Very shortly after Messrs. Mudflint and Bloodsuck had gone to pay this, their long-expected visit, to the governor of York Castle, Mr. Parkinson required possession of the residence of each of them, in Yatton, to be delivered up to him on behalf of Lord Drelincourt, allowing a week's time for the removal of the few effects of each; after which period had elapsed, the premises in question were completely cleared of everything belonging to their late odious occupants—who, in all human probability, would, infinitely to the delight of Dr. Tatham and all the better sort of the inhabitants, never again be there seen or heard of. In a similar manner another crying nuisance—viz. the public-house known by the name of The Toper's Arms—was got rid of; it having been resolved upon by Lord Drelincourt, that there should be thenceforth but one in Yatton, viz.,—the quiet, old, original Aubrey Arms, and which was quite sufficient for the purposes of the inhabitants. Two or three other persons who had crept into the village during the Titmouse dynasty were similarly dealt with, infinitely to the satisfaction of those left behind; and by Christmas-day the village was beginning to show signs of a return to its former condition. The works going on at the Hall gave an air of cheerful bustle and animation to the whole neighborhood, and afforded extensive employment at a season of the year when it was most wanted. The chapel and residence of the Rev. Mr. Mudflint underwent a rapid and remarkable alteration. The fact was, that Mr. Delamere had conceived the idea, which, with Lord Drelincourt's consent, he proceeded to carry immediately into execution, of pulling down the existing structure, and raising in its stead a very beautiful school, and filling it with scholars, and providing a matron for it, by way of giving a pleasant surprise to Kate on her return to Yatton. He engaged a well-known architect, who submitted to him a plan of a very beautiful little Gothic structure, adapted for receiving some eighteen or twenty scholars, and also affording a permanent residence for the mistress. The scheme being heartily approved of by Mr. Delamere and Dr. Tatham, whom he had taken into his counsels in the affair, they received a pledge that the school should be completed and fit for occupation within three months' time. There was to be, in the front, a small and tasteful tablet, bearing the inscription—

The mistress of Kate's former school gladly relinquished a similar situation which she held in another part of the county, in order to return to her old one at Yatton; and Dr. Tatham was, in the first instance, to select the scholars, who were to be clothed at Delamere's expense, in the former neat and simple attire which had been adopted by Miss Aubrey. How he delighted to think of the charming surprise which he was thus preparing for his lovely mistress, and by which, at the same time, he was securing for her a permanent and interesting memento in the neighborhood!

About this time there came a general election; the nation being thoroughly disgusted with the character and conduct of a great number of those who had, in the direful hubbub of the last election, contrived to creep into the House of Commons. Public affairs were, moreover, getting daily into a more deranged and dangerous condition: in fact, the Ministers might have been compared to a parcel of little mischievous and venturesome boys, who had found their way into the vast and complicated machinery of some steam-engine, and set it into a fearful motion, which they could neither understand nor govern; and from which they were only too glad to escape safely—if possible—and make way for those whose proper business it was to attend to it. All I have to do, however, at present, with that most important political movement, is to state its effect upon the representation of the borough of Yatton. Its late member, Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse, it completely annihilated. Of course, he made no attempt to stand again; nor, in fact, did any one in the same interest. The Yorkshire Stingo, in its very last number, (of which twelve only were sold,) tried desperately to get up a contest, but in vain. Mr. Going Gone—and even Mr. Glister—were quite willing to have stood—but, in the first place, neither of them could afford to pay his share of the expenses of erecting the hustings; and, secondly, there were insurmountable difficulties in the way of either of them procuring even a pseudo qualification.[21] Besides, the more sensible of even the strong Liberal electors had become alive to the exquisite absurdity of returning such persons as Titmouse, or any one of his class. Then the Quaint Club had ceased to exist, partly through the change of political feeling which was rapidly gaining ground in the borough, and partly through terror of the consequences of bribery, of which the miserable fate of Mudflint and Bloodsuck was a fearful instance. In fact, the disasters which had befallen those gentlemen, and Mr. Titmouse, had completely paralyzed and crushed the Liberal party at Yatton, and disabled it from ever attempting to contend against the paramount and legitimate influence of Lord Drelincourt. The result of all this was, the return, without a contest, of the Honorable Geoffrey Lovel Delamere as the representative of the borough of Yatton in the new Parliament; an event, which he penned his first frank[22] in communicating to a certain young lady then in London. Nothing, doubtless, could be more delightful for Mr. Delamere; but in what a direful predicament did the loss of his seat place the late member, Mr. Titmouse! Just consider for a moment. Mr. Flummery's promise to him of a "place," had vanished, of course, into thin air—having answered its purpose of securing Mr. Titmouse's vote up to the very moment of the dissolution; an event which Mr. Flummery feared would tend to deprive himself of the honor of serving his country in any official capacity for some twenty years to come—if he should so long live, and the country so long survive his exclusion from office. Foiled thus miserably in this quarter, Mr. Titmouse applied himself with redoubled energy to render available his other resources, and made repeated and most impassioned applications to Mr. O'Gibbet—who never took, however, the slightest notice of any of them: considering very justly that Mr. Titmouse was no more entitled to receive back, than he had originally been to lend, the £500 in question. As for Mr. O'Doodle and Mr. M'Squash they, like himself, were thrown out of Parliament; and no one upon earth seemed able to tell whither they had gone, or what had become of them, though there were a good many people who made it their business to inquire into the matter very anxiously. That quarter, therefore, seemed at present quite hopeless. Then there was an Honorable youngster, who owed him a hundred pounds; but he, the moment that he had lost his election, caused it to be given out to any one interested in his welfare—and there suddenly appeared to be a great many such—that he was gone on a scientific expedition to the South Pole, from which he trusted, though he was not very sanguine, that he should, one day, come back.—All these things drove Mr. Titmouse very nearly beside himself—and certainly his position was a little precarious. When Parliament was dissolved, he had in his pocket a couple of sovereigns, the residue of a five-pound note, out of which, mirabile dictu, he had actually succeeded in teasing Mr. Flummery on the evening of the last division; and these two sovereigns, a shirt or two, the articles actually on his person, and a copy of Boxiana, were all his assets to meet liabilities of about a hundred thousand pounds; and the panoply of Parliamentary "privilege" was dropping off, as it were, hourly. In a very few days' time, in fact, he would be at the mercy of a terrific host of creditors, who were waiting to spring upon his little carcass like so many famished wolves. Every one of them had gone on with his action up to judgment for both debt and costs—and had his Ca. Sa. and Fi. Fa.[23] ready for use at an instant's notice. There were three of these injured gentlemen—the three Jews, Israel Fang, Mordecai Gripe, and Mephibosheth Mahar-shalal-hash-baz—who had entered into a solemn vow with one another that they would never lose sight of Titmouse for one moment, by day or by night, whatever pains or expense it might cost them—until, the period of privilege having expired, they should be at liberty to plunge their talons into the body of their little debtor. There were, in fact, at least a hundred of his creditors ready to pounce upon him the instant that he should make the slightest attempt to quit the country. His lodgings consisted, at this time, of a miserable little room in a garret at the back of a small house in Westminster, not far from the Houses of Parliament, and of the two, inferior to the room in Closet Court, Oxford Street, in which he was first presented to the reader. Here he would often lie in bed half the day, drinking weak—because he could not afford strong—brandy and water, and endeavoring to consider "what the devil" he had done with the immense sums of money which had been at his disposal—how he would act, if by some lucky chance he should again become wealthy—and, in short, "what the plague was now to become of him." What was he to do? Whither should he go?—To sea?—Then it must be as a common sailor—if any one would now take him! Or suppose he were to enlist? "Glorious war, and all that," et cetera; but both these schemes pre-supposed his being able to escape from his creditors, who, he had a vehement suspicion, were on the look-out for him in all directions. Every review that he thus took of his hopeless position and prospects, ended in a fiendish degree of abhorrence of his parents, whose fault alone it was—in having brought him into the world—that he had been thus turned out of a splendid estate of ten thousand a-year, and made worse than a beggar. He would sometimes spring out of bed, convulsively clutching his hands together, and wishing himself beside their grave, to tear them out of it. He thought of Mr. Quirk, Mr. Snap, and Mr. Tag-rag, with fury; but whenever he adverted to Mr. Gammon, he shuddered all over, as if in the presence of a baleful spectre. For all this, he preserved the same impudent strut and swagger in the street which had ever distinguished him. Every day of his life he walked towards the scenes of his recent splendor, which seemed to attract him irresistibly. He would pass the late Earl of Dreddlington's house, in Grosvenor Square, staring at it, and at the hatchment suspended in front of it. Then he would wander on to Park Lane, and gaze with unutterable feelings—poor little wretch!—at the house which once had been his and Lady Cecilia's, but was then occupied by a nobleman, whose tasteful equipage and servants were often standing at and before the door. He would, on some of those occasions, feel as though he should like to drop down dead, and be out of all his misery. If ever he met and nodded, or spoke to those with whom he had till recently been on the most familiar terms, he was encountered by a steady stare, and sometimes a smile, which withered his very heart within him, and made the last three years of his life appear to have been but a dream. The little dinner that he ate—for he had almost entirely lost his appetite through long addiction to drinking—was at a small tavern, at only a few doors' distance from his lodgings, and where he generally spent his evenings, for want of any other place to go to; and he formed at length a sort of intimacy with a good-natured and very respectable gentleman, who came nearly as often thither as Titmouse himself, and would sit conversing with him very pleasantly over his cigar and a glass of spirits and water. The oftener Titmouse saw him, the more he liked him; and at length, taking him entirely into his confidence, unbosomed himself concerning his unhappy present circumstances, and still more unhappy prospects. This man was a brother of Mahar-shalal-hash-baz the Jew, and a sheriff's officer, keeping watch upon his movements, night and day, alternately with another who had not attracted Titmouse's notice. After having canvassed several modes of disposing of himself, none of which were satisfactory to either Titmouse or his friend, he hinted that he was aware that there were lots of the enemy on the look-out for him, and who would be glad to get at him; but he knew, he said, that he was as safe as in a castle for some time yet to come; and he also mentioned a scheme which had occurred to him—but this was all in the strictest confidence—viz. to write to Lord Drelincourt, (who was, after all, his relation of some sort or other, and ought to be devilish glad to get into all his, Titmouse's, property so easily,) and ask him for some situation under government, either in France, India, or America, and give him a trifle to set him up at starting, and help him to "nick the bums!" His friend listened attentively, and then protested that he thought it an excellent idea, and Mr. Titmouse had better write the letter and take it at once. Upon this Titmouse sent for pen, ink, and paper; and while his friend leaned back calmly smoking his cigar, and sipping his gin and water, poor Titmouse wrote the following epistle to Lord Drelincourt—the very last which I shall be able to lay before the reader:—

"To the Right Hon. Lord Drelincourt, My Lord—

"Natrally situated In The Way which I Am With y^r lordship Most Unpleasantly Addressing you On A Matter of that Nature most Painful To My feelings Considering My surprising Forlorn Condition, And So Sudden Which Who c^d Have A Little While Ago suppos'd. Y^r Lordship (of Course) Is Aware That There Is No fault of Mine, But rather My Cursed Parents w^h Ought To be Ashamed of Themselves For Their Improper Conduct w^h Was never made Acquainted with till Lately with Great Greif. Alas. I Only Wish I Had Never Been Born, or Was Dead and Cumfortable in An Erly Grave. I Humbly, My Lord, Endevoured To Do My Duty when In the Upper Circles and Especially to the People, which I Always voted for, Steady, in The House, And Never Injured Any One, Much less you, My Lord, if You Will Believe Me, For I surely w^d. Not Have Come Upon You In the Way I did My Lord But Was obliged, And Regret, &c. I Am Most Truly Miserable, Being (Betwixt You and Me, my Lord) over Head and Years in debt, And Have Nothing To pay With and out of The House So Have No Protection and Fear am Going Very Fast To y^e. Dogs, my Lord, Swindle O'Gibbet, Esq. M.P. Owes me £500 (borrowed Money) and Will not Pay and is a Shocking Scamp, but (depend upon it) I will stick To Him Like a Leach. Of Course Now your Lordship Is Got into y^e Estate &c. you Will Have y^e Rents, &c., but Is Not Half The Last Quarter Mine Seeing I Was in possession w^h is 9-10ths of y^e law. But gave it All up To you willingly Now For what can't Be cur'd, Must Be Indur'd can y^r lordship Get me Some Foreign Appointment Abroad w^h sh^d be much obliged for and Would Get Me out of the Way of Troubling y^r lordship about the Rents w^h freely give Up.

You Being Got To that High Rank w^h was to Have Been mine can do What You please doubtless. Am Sorry To Say I am Most Uncommon Hard Up Since I Have Broke up. And am nearly Run Out. Consider my Lord How Easy I Let You Win y^e Property. When might Have Given Your Lordship Trouble. If you will Remember this And Be So obliging to Lend me a £10 Note (For y^e Present) Will much oblige

"Your Lordship's to Command,

"Most obed^t

"Tittlebat Titmouse.

"P.S.—I Leave This with my Own Hand That you May be Sure and get it. Remember me to Miss A. and Lady D."

Mr. Titmouse contented himself with telling his new friend merely the substance of the above epistle, and, having sealed it up, he asked his companion if he were disposed for a walk to the West End; and on being answered in the affirmative, they both set off for Lord Drelincourt's house in Dover Street. When they had reached it, his friend stepped to a little distance; while Titmouse, endeavoring to assume a confident air, hemmed, twitched up his shirt-collar, and knocked and rang with all the boldness of a gentleman coming to dinner. Open flew the door in a moment; and—

"My Lord Drelincourt's—isn't it?" inquired Titmouse, holding his letter in his hand, and tapping his ebony cane pretty loudly against his legs.

"Of course it is! What d'ye want?" quoth the porter, sternly, enraged at being disturbed at such an hour by such a puppy of a fellow as then stood before him—for the bloom was off the finery of Titmouse; and who that knew the world would call, and with such a knock, at seven o'clock with a letter? Titmouse would have answered the fellow pretty sharply, but was afraid of endangering the success of his application: so, with considerable calmness, he replied—

"Oh—Then have the goodness to deliver this into his Lordship's own hand—it's of great importance."

"Very well," said the porter, stiffly, not dreaming what a remarkable personage was the individual whom he was addressing, and the next instant shut the door in his face.

"Dem impudent blackguard!" said he, as he rejoined his friend—his heart almost bursting with mortification and fury; "I've a great mind to call to-morrow, 'pon my soul—and get him discharged!"

He had dated his letter from his lodgings, where, about ten o'clock on the ensuing morning, a gentleman—in fact, Lord Drelincourt's man of business—called, and asking to see Mr. Titmouse, gave into his hands a letter, of which the following is a copy:—

"Dover Street, Wednesday Morning.

"Lord Drelincourt, in answer to Mr. Titmouse's letter, requests his acceptance of the enclosed Bank of England Note for Ten Pounds.

"Lord D. wishes Mr. Titmouse to furnish him with an address, to which any further communications on the part of Lord D. may be addressed."

On repairing to the adjoining tavern, soon after receiving the above most welcome note, Mr. Titmouse fortunately (!) fell in with his friend, and, with somewhat of an air of easy triumph, showed him Lord Drelincourt's note, and its enclosure. Some time afterwards, having smoked each a couple of cigars and drank a couple of tumblers of brandy and water, Mr. Titmouse's companion got very confidential, and in a low whisper said, that he had been thinking over Mr. Titmouse's case ever since they were talking together the night before; and for five pounds would put him in the way of escaping all danger immediately, provided no questions were asked by Mr. Titmouse; for he, the speaker, was running a great risk in what he was doing. Titmouse placed his hand over his heart, exclaiming, "Honor—honor!" and having called for change from the landlord, gave a five-pound note into the hand of his companion, who thereupon, in a mysterious undertone, told him that by ten o'clock the next morning he would have a hackney-coach at the door of his lodgings, and would at once convey him safely to a vessel then in the river, and bound for the south of France; where Mr. Titmouse might remain till he had in some measure settled his affairs with his creditors. Sure enough, at the appointed time, the promised vehicle drew up at the door of the house where Titmouse lodged; and within a few moments' time he came down-stairs with a small portmanteau, and entered the coach where sat his friend, evidently not wishing to be recognized or seen by anybody passing. They talked together earnestly and eagerly as they journeyed eastward; and just as they arrived opposite a huge dismal-looking building, with a large door, and immensely high walls, the coach stopped. Three or four persons were standing, as if they had been in expectation of an arrival; and, requesting Mr. Titmouse to alight for a moment, his friend opened the coach door from within, and let down the steps. The moment that poor Titmouse had got out, he was instantly surrounded, and seized by the collar by those who were standing by; his perfidious "friend" had disappeared; and almost petrified with amazement and fright, and taken quite off his guard by the suddenness of the movement, poor Titmouse was hurried through the doorway of the King's Bench Prison, the three Jews following close at his heels, and conducted into a very gloomy room. There he seemed first to awake to the horrors of his situation, and went into a paroxysm of despair and fury. He sprang madly towards the door, and on being repulsed by those standing beside him, stamped violently about the room, shouting, "Murder, murder! thieves!" Then he pulled his hair, shook his head with frantic vehemence, and presently sank into a seat, from which, after a few moments, he sprang wildly, and broke his cane into a number of pieces, scattering them about the room like a madman. Then he cried passionately; more, in fact, like a frantic school-girl, than a man; and struck his head violently with his fists. All this while the three Jews were looking on with a grin of devilish gratification at the little wretch's agony. His frenzy lasted so long that he was removed to a strong room, and threatened with being put into a strait waistcoat if he continued to conduct himself so outrageously. The fact of his being thus safely housed, soon became known, and within a day or two's time, the miserable little fellow was completely overwhelmed by his creditors; who, absurd and unavailing as were their proceedings, came rushing down upon him, one after another, with as breathless an impetuosity as if they had thought him a mass of solid gold, which was to become the spoil of him who could first seize it. The next day his fate was announced to the world by paragraphs in all the morning newspapers, which informed their readers that "yesterday Mr. Titmouse, late M.P. for Yatton, was secured by a skilful stratagem, just as he was on the point of quitting this country for America, and lodged in the King's Bench Prison, at the suit of three creditors, to the extent of upwards of sixty thousand pounds. It is understood that his debts considerably exceed the sum of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds." As soon as he had become calm enough to do so—viz. three or four days after his incarceration—he wrote a long, dismal epistle to Lord Drelincourt, and also one to Miss Aubrey, passionately reminding them both that he was, after all, of the same blood with themselves, only luck had gone for them and against him, and therefore he hoped they would "remember him, and do something to get him out of his trouble." He seemed to cling to them as though he had a claim upon them—instead of being himself Lord Drelincourt's debtor to the amount of, at least, twenty thousand pounds, had his Lordship, instead of inclining a compassionate ear to his entreaties, chosen to fling his heavy claim, too, into the scale against him. This, however, was a view of the case which never occurred to poor Titmouse. Partly of their own accord, and partly at Miss Aubrey's earnest entreaty, Lord Drelincourt and Mr. Delamere went to the King's Bench Prison, and had a long interview with him—his Lordship being specially anxious to ascertain, if possible, whether Titmouse had been originally privy to the monstrous fraud by means of which he had succeeded in possessing himself of Yatton, at so fearful a cost of suffering to those whom he had deprived of it. While he was chattering away, more after the fashion of a newly-caged ape, than a MAN, with eager and impassioned tone and gesticulation—with a profuse usage of his favorite phraseology—"'Pon my soul!" "'Pon my life!" "By Jove!" and of several shocking oaths, for which he was repeatedly and sternly rebuked by Lord Drelincourt, with what profound and melancholy interest did the latter regard the strange being before him, and think of the innumerable extraordinary things which he had heard concerning him! Here was the widowed husband of the Lady Cecilia, and son-in-law of the Earl of Dreddlington—that broken pillar of pride!—broken, alas! in the very moment of imaginary magnificence! Here was the late member of Parliament for the borough of Yatton, whose constituency had deliberately declared him possessed of their complete confidence!—on whose individual vote had several times depended the existence of the king's ministry, and the passing of measures of the greatest possible magnitude! This was he whom all society—even the most brilliant—had courted as a great lion.—This was the sometime owner of Yatton! who had aspired to the hand of Miss Aubrey! who had for two years revelled in every conceivable species of luxury, splendor, and profligacy! Here was the individual at whose instance—at whose nod—Lord Drelincourt had been deprived of his liberty, ruthlessly torn from the bleeding bosom of his family, and he and they, for many, many weary months, subjected to the most harassing and heart-breaking privations and distresses! On quitting him, Lord Drelincourt put into his hand a ten-pound note, with which Titmouse seemed—though he dared not say so—not a little disappointed. His Lordship and Mr. Delamere were inclined, upon the whole—for Titmouse had displayed some little cunning—to believe that he had not been aware of his illegitimacy till the issue of the ecclesiastical proceedings had been published; but from many remarks he let fall, they were satisfied that Mr. Gammon must have known the fact from a very early period—for Titmouse spoke freely of the constant mysterious threats he was in the habit of receiving from Mr. Gammon. Lord Drelincourt had promised Titmouse to consider in what way he could serve him; and during the course of the day instructed Mr. Runnington to put the case into the hands of some attorney of the Insolvent Debtors' Court, with a view of endeavoring to obtain for the unfortunate little wretch the "benefit of the Act." As soon as the course of practice would admit of it, he was brought up in the ordinary way before the court, which was quite crowded by persons either interested as creditors, or curious to see so celebrated a person as Tittlebat Titmouse. The commissioners were astounded at the sight of the number and magnitude of his liabilities—a hundred thousand pounds at least!—against which he had nothing to set except the following items:—

Cash lent Swindle O'Gibbet, Esq. M. P	£	500
Do. do. Phelim O'Doodle		200
Do. do. Micah M'Squash		100

—together with some other similar but lesser sums; but for none of them could he produce any vouchers, except for the sum lent to the Hon. Empty Belly, who had been imprudent enough to give him his I. O. U. Poor Titmouse's discharge was most vehemently opposed on the part of his creditors—particularly the three Jews—whose frantic and indecorous conduct in open court occasioned the chief commissioner to order them to be twice removed. They would have had Titmouse remanded to the day of his death! After several adjourned and lengthened hearings, the court pronounced him not to be entitled to his discharge till he should have remained in prison for the space of eighteen calendar months; on hearing which he burst into a fit of loud and bitter weeping, and was removed from court, wringing his hands and shaking his head in perfect despair. As soon as this result had been communicated to Lord Drelincourt, (who had taken special care that his name should not be among those of Mr. Titmouse's creditors,) he came to the humane determination of allowing him a hundred and fifty pounds a-year for his life, payable weekly, to commence from the date of his being remanded to prison.—For the first month or so he spent all his weekly allowance in brandy and water and cigars, within three days after receiving it. Then he took to gambling with his fellow-prisoners; but, all of a sudden, he turned over quite a new leaf. The fact was, that he had become intimate with an unfortunate literary hack, who used to procure small sums by writing articles for inferior newspapers and magazines; and at his suggestion, Titmouse fell to work upon several quires of foolscap: the following being the title given to his projected work by his new friend—

He got so far on with his task as to fill three quires of paper; and it is a fact that a fashionable publisher got scent of the undertaking, came to the prison, and offered him three hundred pounds for his manuscript, provided only he would undertake that it should fill three volumes. This greatly stimulated Titmouse; but unfortunately he fell ill before he had completed the first volume, and never, during the remainder of his confinement, recovered himself sufficiently to proceed further with his labors. I once had an opportunity of glancing over what he had written, which was really very curious, but I do not know what has since become of it. During the last month of his imprisonment he became intimate with a villanous young Jew attorney, who, under the pretence of commencing proceedings in the House of Lords (!) for the recovering of the Yatton property once more from Lord Drelincourt, contrived to get into his own pockets more than one-half of the weekly sum allowed by that nobleman to his grateful pensioner! On the very day of his discharge, Titmouse—not comprehending the nature of his own position—went off straight to the lodgings of Mr. Swindle O'Gibbet to demand payment of the five hundred pounds due to him from that honorable gentleman, to whom he became a source of inconceivable vexation and torment. Following him about with a sort of insane and miserable pertinacity, Titmouse lay in wait for him now at his lodgings—then at the door of the House of Commons; dogged him from the one point to the other; assailed him with passionate entreaties and reproaches in the open street: went to the public meetings over which Mr. O'Gibbet presided, or where he spoke, (always on behalf of the rights of conscience and the liberty of the subject,) and would call out—"Pay me my five hundred pounds! I want my money! Where's my five hundred pounds?" on which Mr. O'Gibbet would point to him, call him an "impostor! a liar!" furiously adding that he was only hired by the enemies of the people to come and disturb their proceedings: whereupon (which was surely a new way of paying old debts) Titmouse was always shuffled about—his hat knocked over his eyes—and he was finally kicked out, and once or twice pushed down from the top to the bottom of the stairs. The last time that this happened, poor Titmouse's head struck with dreadful force against the banisters; and he lay for some time stunned and bleeding. On being carried to a doctor's shop, he was shortly afterwards seized with a fit of epilepsy. This seemed to have given the finishing stroke to his shattered intellects; for he sank soon afterwards into a state of idiocy. Through the kindness and at the expense of Lord Drelincourt, he was admitted an inmate of a private lunatic asylum, in the Curtain Road, near Hoxton, where he still continues. He is very harmless; and after dressing himself in the morning with extraordinary pains—never failing to have a glimpse visible of his white pocket-handkerchief out of the pocket in the breast of his surtout—nor to have his boots very brightly polished—he generally sits down with a glass of strong and warm toast and water, and a colored straw, which he imagines to be brandy and water, and a cigar. He complained, at first, that the brandy and water was very weak; but he is now reconciled to it, and sips his two tumblers daily with an air of tranquil enjoyment. When I last saw him he was thus occupied. On my approaching him, he hastily stuck his quizzing-glass into his eye, where it was retained by the force of muscular contraction, while he stared at me with all his former expression of rudeness and presumption. 'Twas at once a ridiculous and a mournful sight.

I should have been very glad, if, consistently with my duty as an impartial historian, I could have concealed some discreditable features in the conduct of Mr. Tag-rag, subsequently to his unfortunate bankruptcy. I shall not, however, dwell upon them at greater length than is necessary. His creditors were so much dissatisfied with his conduct, that not one of them could be prevailed upon to sign his certificate,[24] by which means he was prevented from re-establishing himself in business, even had he been able to find the means of so doing; since, in the eye of our law, any business carried on by an uncertificated bankrupt, is so carried on by him only as a trustee for his creditors.—His temper getting more and more soured, he became at length quite intolerable to his wife, whom he had married only for her fortune, (£800, and the good-will of her late husband's business, as a retail draper and hosier, in Little Turn-stile, Holborn.) When he found that Mrs. Tag-rag would not forsake her unhappy daughter, he snapped his fingers at her, and, I regret to say, told her that she and her daughter, and her respectable husband, might all go to the devil together—but he must shift for himself; and, in plain English, he took himself off. Mr. Dismal Horror found that he had made a sad business of it, in marrying Miss Tag-rag, who brought him two children in the first nineteen months, and seemed likely to go on at that rate for a long time to come, which made Mr. Horror think very seriously of following the example of his excellent father-in-law—viz. deserting his wife. They had contrived to scrape together a bit of a day-school for young children, in Goswell Street; but which was inadequate to the support of themselves, and also of Mrs. Tag-rag, who had failed in obtaining the situation of pew-opener to a neighboring dissenting chapel. The scheme he had conceived, he soon afterwards carried into effect; for, whereas he went out one day saying he should return in an hour's time, he nevertheless came not back at all. Burning with zeal to display his pulpit talents, he took to street-preaching, and at length succeeded in getting around him a group of hearers, many of them most serious and attentive pickpockets, with dexterous fingers and devout faces, wherever he held forth, which was principally in the neighborhood of the Tower and Smithfield—till he was driven away by the police, who never interfered with his little farce till he had sent his hat round; when, to preserve the peace, they would rush in, disperse the crowd, and taking him into custody, convey him to the police-office, where, in spite of his eloquent defences, he several times got sentenced to three months' imprisonment, as an incorrigible disturber of the peace, and in league with the questionable characters, who—the police declared—were invariably members of every congregation he addressed. One occasion of his being thus taken into custody was rather a singular one:—Mr. Tag-rag happened to be passing while he was holding forth, and, unable to control his fury, made his way immediately in front of the impassioned preacher; and, sticking his fists in his side a-kimbo, exclaimed, "Aren't you a nice young man now?"—which quite disconcerted his pious son-in-law, who threw his hymn-book in his father-in-law's face, which bred such a disturbance that the police rushed in, and took them both off to the police-office; where such a scene ensued as beggars all description. What has since become of Mr. Horror, I do not know; but the next thing I heard of Mr. Tag-rag was his entering into the employ of no other a person than Mr. Huckaback, who had been for some time settled in a little shop in the neighborhood of Leicester Square. Having, however, inadvertently shown in to Mr. Huckaback one of the creditors to whom he had given special orders to be denied, that gentleman instantly turned him out of the shop, in a fury, without character or wages; which latter, nevertheless, Tag-rag soon compelled him, by the process of the Court of Bequests, to pay him; being one week's entire salary. In passing one day a mock auction, on the left-hand side of the Poultry, I could not help pausing to admire the cool effrontery with which the Jew in the box was putting up showy but worthless articles to sale to four patient puffers—his entire audience—and who bid against one another in a very business-like way for everything which was thus proposed for their consideration. Guess my astonishment and concern, when one of the aforesaid puffers, who stood with his back towards me, happened to look round for a moment, to discover in him my friend Mr. Tag-rag!! His hat was nicely brushed, but all the "nap" was off; his coat was clean, threadbare, and evidently had been made for some other person; under his arm was an old cotton umbrella; and in his hands, which were clasped behind him, were a pair of antiquated black gloves, doubled up, only for show, evidently not for use. Notwithstanding, however, he had sunk thus low, there happened to him, some time afterwards, one or two surprising strokes of good fortune. First of all, he contrived to get a sum of three hundred pounds from one of his former debtors, who imagined that Tag-rag was authorized by his assignees to receive it. Nothing, however, of the kind; and Tag-rag quietly opened a small shop in the neighborhood of St. George's in the East, and began to scrape together a tolerable business. Reading one day a flourishing speech in Parliament, on the atrocious enormity of calling upon Dissenters to pay Church-rates—it occurred to Mr. Tag-rag as likely to turn out a good speculation, and greatly increase his business, if he were to become a martyr for conscience sake; and after turning the thing about a good deal in his mind, he determined on refusing to pay the sum of twopence-halfpenny, due in respect of a rate which had been recently made for the repair of the church steeple, then very nearly falling down. In a very civil and unctuous manner, he announced to the collector his determination to refuse the payment on strictly conscientious grounds. The collector expostulated—but in vain. Then came the amazed churchwardens—Tag-rag, however, was inflexible. The thing began to get wind, and the rector, an amiable and learned man—and an earnest lover of peace in his parish—came to try his powers of persuasion—but he might have saved himself the trouble; 'twas impossible to divert Mr. Tag-rag's eye from the glorious crown of martyrdom he had resolved upon earning. Then he called on the minister of the congregation where he "worshipped," and with tears and agitation unbosomed himself upon the subject, and besought his counsel. The intelligent and pious pastor got excited; so did his leading people. A meeting was called at his chapel, the result of which was a declaration that Mr. Tag-rag's conduct was most praiseworthy and noble—that he had taken his stand upon a great principle—and deserved to be supported. Several leading members of the congregation, who had never dealt with him before, suddenly became customers of his. The upshot of the matter was, that after a prodigious stir, Mr. Tag-rag became a victim in right earnest; and was taken into custody by virtue of a writ De Contumace Capiendo, amid the indignant sympathy and admiration of all those enlightened persons who shared his opinions. In a twinkling he shot up, as it were, into the air like a rocket, and became popular, beyond his most sanguine expectations. The name of the first Church-rate martyr went the round of every paper in the United Kingdom; and at length came out a lithographed likeness of his odious face, with his precious autograph appended, so—

Subscriptions were entered into on his behalf; and as they were paid into his hands from time to time, he kept quietly increasing his purchases of linen-drapery and enlarging his business, in a most decisive and satisfactory manner. Nothing could exceed the accounts brought in to the poor martyr of the extent to which his custom was increasing; for in each window of his shop hung a copy of his portrait, attracting the eye of every passenger. But he was not the only person who rejoiced in this state of things; there being others who had a deep stake in his success, and whom—forgetful of the maxim that one should begin nothing till one has well considered the end of it—he had not at first adverted to, viz. HIS ASSIGNEES—to whom belonged, in point of law, the rattling business he was carrying on, and who were watching his movements with lively interest. He was suddenly struck dumb with dismay and astonishment when he heard of this unexpected issue of the affair, and began to fear that he had "missed his providential way." His assignees, however, seemed to think that they had got into theirs—and enlarged the premises, and greatly increased the stock, profiting by the continually augmenting popularity of Tag-rag. From the moment of this dismal discovery, his ardor in the Great Cause wonderfully declined; and he would have jumped at any decent excuse for getting out of the thing altogether. And, indeed, when he came to think of it—where was the difficulty? He had fought a good fight—he had maintained a great principle—he had borne the heat and burden of the day!—But while the martyr was thus musing within himself, powerful forces were coming into the field to his succor—viz. the Society for the Promotion of Civil and Religious Discord; who having caused all the proceedings against Tag-rag to be laid before an ambitious little Radical Barrister, he discovered a fatal flaw in them—viz. that in the Significavit, the word "Bishop" was spelled "Bisop," (i.e. without the "h.") The point was argued with prodigious pertinacity, and incredible ingenuity, by four counsel on each side; each party vehemently declaring that if he failed, the laws of England would be shaken to their very foundation: an intimation which not a little agitated the court. After great deliberation, however, the objection, "being in favor of liberty," was held to prevail; all the proceedings were quashed; and Mr. Tag-rag was consequently declared entitled to his discharge!—On this he was invited to a grand tea-party by the leading friends of the voluntary principle, given in Hackney Fields, where, amid a concourse of at least a hundred souls, (including women and children,) Tag-rag (inwardly shuddering, however, at the thought) avowed himself ready to go again to the stake, "if Providence should require it." That seemed not, however, likely to be the case; for the churchwardens, having already had to pay some £1,750 odd in the shape of costs, resolved never to meddle with him any more. He succeeded in prevailing on his assignees to take him into the shop, in order to carry on the business upon their account, and as their servant—for which they allowed him two pounds a-week. Out of this, however, he was soon after compelled by the parish authorities to allow twelve shillings a-week to Mrs. Tag-rag; and on making her the first payment, he actually spit in the poor woman's face! Dr. Johnson used to say that patriotism was the last refuge of a scoundrel. Now-a-days, however, it is Church-rate Martyrdom; and Tag-rag has had many imitators!

I must not, however, conclude this part of my long history, without adverting to what befell the surviving partners of Mr. Gammon, namely, Messrs. Quirk and Snap. The former had horrible misgivings as to the true cause of Mr. Gammon's death—having a strange inward persuasion that he had destroyed himself. When he heard of the event, very suddenly, from the laundress, he was seized with a fit of trembling which lasted for several days. He dared not attend the funeral—or go to Mr. Gammon's chambers, while his corpse lay there. Mr. Snap, however, had younger and firmer nerves; and resolved to gratify his natural and very delicate curiosity, by seeing "how Mr. Gammon looked in his coffin." The day after the enlightened coroner's inquest had been held, therefore, he went to the chambers for that purpose, and was shown by the sobbing laundress into the silent and gloomy bedroom where the remains of Mr. Gammon lay awaiting burial. The coffin lay on trestles near the window, which of course was darkened; and Mr. Snap, having taken off his hat, removed the coffin-lid and the face-cloth, and there was the cold stern countenance of Mr. Gammon, before him! In spite of himself, Mr. Snap trembled as he looked, and for a moment doubted whether in gazing at the yellow effigy of him that was, he really beheld the late Mr. Gammon; so fixed, so rigid, were the features—so contracted of their proportions, and disfigured by the close-fitting frilled cap. What determination was yet visible in the compressed lips! The once keen and searching eyes of Mr. Gammon were now hid forever beneath the heavy and clammy eyelids; and the ample brow was no longer furrowed by the workings of the active and powerful spirit which had "jumped the world to come!" Mr. Snap gazed for several minutes in silence, and his heart beat a little quicker than usual.

"Oh, sir!" sobbed the laundress at length, as she, too, advanced to look again at the countenance of her deceased master, and from which she seldom took her eyes long together when alone—"he was the kindest and best of men! He was indeed!" Mr. Snap said nothing, but presently took hold of the cold, thin, stiff fingers of Mr. Gammon's right hand, squeezed them gently, and then replaced the hand in its former position.

"I hope he's happy, dear soul!" cried the laundress, gazing at him through her tears.

"Yes, of course he is—no doubt," replied Mr. Snap, in a somewhat lower tone of voice than he had spoken in before, and slowly returned to the sitting-room; whither the laundress followed him as soon as she had replaced the face-cloth and coffin-lid.

"Got a drop of brandy in the room, Mrs. Brown?" he inquired, and passed his hand across his face, which had grown very pale.

She gave him what he asked for; he drank it, and sighed.

"Devilish ugly look that cap gives him—eh, Mrs. Brown? Hardly knew him."

"Ay, poor soul; but it don't much signify how the face looks if the heart's all right. He was always so kind to me; I shall never get another master like him!"

"Died very suddenly, Mrs. Brown; didn't he?"

"Ay, he did, sir! His troubles broke his heart!"

"He'd quite enough of them to do so!" replied Snap, significantly, and took his departure. He was one of the few who attended the funeral, and the day on which it took place was the gloomiest he had ever known.

Mr. Gammon being gone, old Mr. Quirk seemed to have quite lost the use of his head, and could attend to nothing. As for "the matters of the affidavits," which he had been ordered by the Court of King's Bench to answer, it was impossible to do so, except by acknowledging the facts they stated to be true; and he was, in the ensuing term, struck off the roll of attorneys, and ceased to be any longer a "gentleman, one of the attorneys of our lord the king, before the king himself." In short, he was completely broken up. He was quickly compelled to part with Alibi House—in fact, with all his property; and very narrowly escaped being thrown into a prison, there to end his days. During the last week of his stay at Alibi House, while all his effects were being sold, he was observed to sit down for hours together before a certain picture covered with black crape; and once or twice he lifted up the crape, and gazed with a horrid look at the object before him, as if he were meditating something very mysterious and dismal. Nothing, however, happened. If he had ever wished to hang himself, he never could succeed in screwing his courage up to the sticking-place. He prevailed on a friend to buy in, for him, that particular picture; and it was almost the only article that he took with him to the small lodgings to which he removed with his daughter, on the sale of Alibi House. As for poor Miss Quirk, I pity her from my very soul; for, though rather a weak girl, she was perfectly good-natured; and the reader will probably join in my indignation against Mr. Toady Hug, when he hears that that gentleman, on seeing the unfortunate turn which affairs took with Miss Quirk, owing to no fault of hers, at the very moment when he ought to have clung closest to the poor girl, deserted her, after having been engaged to be married to her ever since the period of her having been disappointed of the affections of Mr. Titmouse. It was, however, the business of the firm of Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, that he had desired to marry; and finding that it no longer existed, he considered himself justified in rescinding the contract on the ground of a failure of consideration. Snap, hearing of this, instantly tendered his own "heart" in lieu of that of Mr. Hug—and was accepted. He kept this very quiet, however, till the fate of the action for a breach of promise of marriage, which he persuaded Miss Quirk to allow him to bring in her name against Mr. Hug, should have been decided—as it soon was; for I should have mentioned that no attempt had been made by any one to strike Snap off the rolls. He retained a Mr. Heartbreak, a most eloquent counsel in such cases: and as Mr. Toady Hug defended himself in what he imagined to be a very splendid speech, the jury immediately found a verdict against him of five hundred pounds—a little fortune for Miss Quirk, if Hug could have paid it. But the fact was, that he could not; and after a long negotiation between Snap and him, it was settled that there should be a sort of secret partnership between them; and that Hug should work out the damages, by doing Mr. Snap's business for a quarter only of the proper fees—the full fee, however, for appearance's sake among his brethren, was to be marked on his brief. Shortly after this Snap got married, and took a little house in Saffron Hill, only two doors from the old office; and, as he had always anxiously cultivated the acquaintance of the leading thieves, he soon got into a very respectable connection. A year afterwards, Mrs. Snap made him the happy father of a quaint-looking little child; which, being a boy, his father, out of reverence for his deceased friend and partner, Mr. Gammon, caused to be christened by the name of "Oily Snap." Old Mr. Quirk lingered on for about a couple of years longer, most inconveniently to Snap, when he died of a broken heart; and as Snap assisted in depositing the revered remains of his father-in-law in St. Andrew's church-yard, he could not help thinking within himself what a horrid thing it would be, were the old gentleman to get up again, and come back and establish himself for another couple of years, in their little back parlor!

Let us now, however, turn to characters worthier of our notice, of our sympathy, and our congratulation.

Two or three days after the assembling of the new Parliament, Lord Drelincourt was introduced by two of his brother barons, (one of whom was Lord De la Zouch,) with the usual formalities, into the House of Lords. As he stood at the table while being sworn in, tranquil and dignified, there was such an expression of noble simplicity and goodness in his features—which had not even then, however, entirely lost the traces of the anxiety and suffering through which he had passed during the last three years—as touched me to the very soul; and I fervently wished him health and long life to enjoy his new honors. He looked quite commanding in his ample ermine and scarlet robes; and having, with the pen which was tendered him, inscribed on the roll the name "Drelincourt"—(that of very nearly the most ancient barony in England)—and formally taken his seat on the barons' bench, and received the congratulations of his brother peers who came crowding around him—he stepped up to the woolsack, and grasped with silent energy the hand of the new Lord Chancellor, Lord Wolstenholme, who, composed and commanding in his appearance and bearing, and familiar with his position as if he had occupied it for more years than days, welcomed the newly-introduced peer with infinite warmth and cordiality. This was Sir Charles Wolstenholme, the Attorney-General of a few short months before, and he to whose masterly ability and unwavering friendship Lord Drelincourt was mainly, if not indeed altogether, indebted for the position which he then occupied. They sat talking together for some time; and the Chancellor happening to mention the ludicrous and yet intolerable pressure to which he was subject for everything he had to give away—particularly in the livings which fell to his disposal—instanced a small one in Devonshire of four hundred a-year, of which he had had notice only two hours before coming to the House, since which time he had had upwards of a dozen applications for it from so many peers then present! "Now, as a small memento of to-day, Drelincourt," said he, with a smile, "can you give me the name of any man who wants, and in your judgment would suit, such a living?"

"Oh, my dear Lord Chancellor!" replied Lord Drelincourt, with eager delight, "I know a man—a very able, exemplary, starving friend of mine, Mr. Neville—the Rev. Ralph Neville. He will do honor to your choice!"

"'Tis his!" replied the Chancellor; "give me his name and address—he shall have it offered him this very evening, if he live in town."

Lord Drelincourt, overjoyed, wrote down Mr. Neville's name and address, and gave it to the Chancellor; and having reminded him that their dinner hour was seven precisely, (the Chancellor had been for some time engaged to dinner with him on that day,) Lord Drelincourt somewhat hastily quitted the House, resolved to be himself the first bearer to poor Mr. Neville of the delightful intelligence of his promotion. His carriage, with Lady Drelincourt and Miss Aubrey in it, had been standing for some time near the House, awaiting his return, in order to drive once or twice round the Park before dinner; but you may guess the kind of transport with which they heard him give directions for their being driven to St. George's in the East, and the object of his errand. When Lord Drelincourt's equipage—simple and elegant, and with the coronet painted on the panels so small as not to challenge the observation of every passenger—drew up opposite the humble lodgings of Mr. Neville, he and his little sick wife were sitting at tea, for which purpose he had a few minutes before propped her up upon the sofa, on which she was obliged to recline during the greater part of each day. Prettily flustered were both of them on seeing the carriage roll up, the steps let down, and hearing Lord Drelincourt, followed quickly by Lady Drelincourt and Miss Aubrey, (it was the first time that they had seen the former two except as Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey,) knock at the door. Oh, how sweet was the office of communicating such news as that which they had brought to Mr. and Mrs. Neville! He, on hearing it, turned immediately, and as it were instinctively, to his pale suffering wife, with full eye and quivering lip—and she returned the look he gave her! Well he knew that the true source of her frail health was their privation and miserably straitened circumstances, and that the intelligence which they had just received, would, as it were, pour into the broken heart the oil of gladness and of health. There was not the slightest change in the deportment of his distinguished visitors; but his own was, in spite of all he could do to the contrary, consciously subdued, and a little embarrassed. What thankfulness was in his heart! How was the great, barren, frowning world around him, turned into a smiling paradise! No longer would they be unable to supply their few and modest wants! No longer deny themselves the innocent enjoyments of life, and cheerful intercourse with society! Soon would he be in the independent exercise of the delightful duties of the pastoral office! And what a thoughtfulness of their humble interests had been evinced by Lord Drelincourt in the first moments of his own excitement and triumph! To all parties, that was, indeed, an occasion of the outgoing of hearts towards each other; and Lord and Lady Drelincourt, before leaving, had insisted on seeing Mr. and Mrs. Neville at dinner in Dover Street, before they left town, as they expected would shortly be the case.

As I have already intimated, Lord Drelincourt had that evening a select dinner party; and there was a little incident connected with it, which will, I think, serve to set forth, were it necessary, his considerate good-nature. His guests consisted of the Lord Chancellor and Lady Wolstenholme, Lord and Lady De la Zouch, Mr. Delamere, three or four other friends, Mr. Runnington, and a Mr. Staveley, a former fellow-pupil of Lord Drelincourt's, and whom he had left still studying closely in the chambers of Mr. Mansfield. Lord Drelincourt had always entertained a very friendly feeling towards Mr. Staveley, who was a young man of very strong understanding, great industry, sound principle, and perfect frankness and simplicity of character. Mr. Aubrey had from the first observed the depression of spirits to which his companion was subject, and which, in the course of their subsequent unreserved communications with each other, he had discovered to be occasioned by the sad precariousness of his pecuniary circumstances, and the absence of all prospect or apparent chance of professional connection. It seemed that the relative by whose liberality alone he had been enabled to enter himself a student at Lincoln's Inn, and become a pupil of Mr. Mansfield's, had died suddenly, leaving his nephew almost totally destitute. Was it not likely that he was just such a person as would excite the yearning sympathies of his now ennobled fellow-student? Indeed it was so; and the reason of Lord Drelincourt's asking him to dinner on the present occasion was, to give him a personal introduction to two individuals capable of being hereafter of vast service to any candidate (possessed of industry, energy, and talent) for professional business and distinction; namely, Mr. Runnington, as a solicitor of first-rate eminence, great personal respectability, and amiability of character—and the Lord Chancellor; with both of whom, as may easily be believed, Lord Drelincourt had much personal influence. Mr. Staveley was the first guest that arrived, and he found Lord Drelincourt alone in the drawing-room. His Lordship seized the opportunity of conversing with his friend unrestrainedly upon the topics above alluded to, and of assuring him that he might always rely on any good offices which it might be in his Lordship's power to perform for him. He spoke to his desponding companion in a tone of earnest and inspiriting encouragement. "Come, come, my dear Staveley," said he, "exporrige frontem! It would seem to be the tendency of close and solitary legal study to make a man despair, and distrust the utility of his labors! But—go straight on!—Constancy, honor, industry, and talent, will inevitably clear the way for their possessor, and also in due time force him forward. Ah! believe me, I know what your feelings are; for very recently I shared them, but always endeavored to master them. As for the want of a connection, I can only say that I knew but one attorney and solicitor in all London—my own—a Mr. Runnington, (who dines with me to-day;)—but had I known none, I should not have been disheartened, so long as I had health of body and mind, and the means of pursuing my studies"——Here Lord Drelincourt's quick ear caught a faint and half-suppressed sigh, uttered by his companion.—"I did my best while engaged in the study of the law, and am sure that I shall never have occasion to regret it; and I frankly tell you, Staveley, I was as poor as a church mouse the whole time—over head and ears in debt; and, but for the kindness of this very Mr. Runnington, who lent me three hundred pounds, I never could have entered Mr. Mansfield's chambers, or formed your acquaintance."—While saying this, Lord Drelincourt was looking very keenly indeed at his companion.—"The law," continued his Lordship, "is a noble profession! I should have become an enthusiast in it had I continued to devote myself to its study and practice;—by the way, will you accept, as a little memento of our friendship—which I trust you will not permit to be broken off, Staveley—my few law-books? Of course, I have no further occasion for those which relate to the more practical"——Here one of the doors opened, and Lady Drelincourt and Miss Aubrey—oh, you beautiful Kate!—entered, looking each of them exceedingly lovely, and receiving Mr. Staveley with a charming cordiality and courtesy; for they had often heard Lord Drelincourt mention his name. The other guests then made their appearance, in quick succession; and Lord Drelincourt made a point of introducing Mr. Staveley, in very flattering terms, to the Chancellor, who received him with great urbanity, as indeed did Mr. Runnington. 'Twas truly a delightful dinner party—all were in high spirits. As for the Lord Chancellor, he took an opportunity during the evening of pressing on Lord Drelincourt the acceptance of an important office under the new government—one which they were exceedingly anxious to have satisfactorily filled, and to which would be annexed a seat in the cabinet!—Lord Drelincourt, however, firmly declined the brilliant offer, on the plea of the repose which he felt to be requisite, both for his family and himself, and also the attention due to his private affairs, to which it would be necessary to devote his personal superintendence for some time to come.—But to return for a moment to Mr. Staveley. Soon after he had sat down to breakfast the next morning, a servant of Lord Drelincourt's brought to his chambers a parcel, which, in fact, consisted of the books of which his Lordship had begged his acceptance over-night. With what peculiar interest did Mr. Staveley glance over them, finding in every page slight pencil marks, evidencing the careful reading of their former owner. In laying down the first book which he had opened, something fell from it upon the floor, which, on his picking it up, proved to be a letter addressed to himself, in the handwriting of Lord Drelincourt. On opening it, what were his feelings on seeing it contain an enclosure of a draft on his Lordship's banker for the sum of £300, which he begged Mr. Staveley to accept as a loan, to be repaid whenever and however he might think fit; and in terms of the most earnest delicacy, reminding him of the circumstance which his Lordship had named over-night; namely, his own acceptance of a similar sum from Mr. Runnington. Mr. Staveley colored under a conflict of emotions, which subsided quickly, into one strong and deep feeling of gratitude towards his truly noble and generous friend; and that morning he wrote a letter, acknowledging in fitting terms the munificent act of Lord Drelincourt, and enclosing his note-of-hand for the amount; both of which, however, on his receiving them, Lord Drelincourt, with a good-natured smile, put into the fire, that there might exist no evidence whatever of the transaction between himself and Mr. Staveley. His Lordship did not even take Lady Drelincourt in this matter into his confidence.

At length every arrangement had been made in London for their quitting it, and at Yatton for their arrival. The last article of furniture, a magnificent piano for Lady Drelincourt, had gone down a fortnight before. Lord and Lady De la Zouch, together with Mr. Delamere, had been at Fotheringham for some time; and the accounts which they gave in their letters, of the scene which might be expected on the memorable occasion of Lord Drelincourt's resuming possession of Yatton, threw them all into a flutter of excitement. From Mr. Delamere's accounts, it would seem as if the day of their return was to be a sort of jubilee. He himself had been to and fro twenty times between Yatton and Fotheringham; an entire unanimity of feeling existed, it seemed, with reference to all the leading arrangements, between himself, Mr. Griffiths, Dr. Tatham, Lord and Lady De la Zouch, and the Earl and Countess of Oldacre, whom it had been deemed expedient to take into their counsels upon the occasion; and a difficult negotiation concerning a certain fine military band, belonging to a regiment stationed only eleven miles off, had been brought to a most satisfactory termination! Dr. Tatham wrote letters to them, especially to Miss Aubrey, almost every day, and, in fact, they all began to imagine themselves already at Yatton, and in the midst of the delicious bustle that was going on there.

At length, the long-expected day for their setting off arrived—the 5th day of May 18—. About ten o'clock in the forenoon might have been seen standing, opposite Lord Drelincourt's door in Dover Street, two roomy travelling carriages and four. Several newly engaged servants had gone down two or three days before, in charge of a large van full of luggage; and in the first carriage were going only Lord and Lady Drelincourt and Miss Aubrey, his Lordship's valet and Lady Drelincourt's maid sitting in the rumble behind; while the second carriage was occupied by little Charles and Agnes, and their attendants, together with Harriet, Miss Aubrey's faithful and pretty little maid. Everything being at length ready, the word was given, crack went the whips, and away they rolled on their memorable and exciting journey. There was an evident air of expectation and interest along the road, for a long while before they approached Yatton; for in fact it was generally known that Lord Drelincourt, who, it was believed, had passed through a series of romantic adventures, was going down to take possession of the ancient family estate in Yorkshire. How the hearts of the travellers yearned towards the dear old familiar objects on each side of the road, which, as they advanced at a rapid pace, they passed with increasing frequency! At length they reached the last posting-house, which was within twelve miles of Yatton, and where there were manifest symptoms of preparation and stir. Eight very fine horses were brought out in a twinkling, and the harness appeared both new and gay. Mrs. Spruce, the landlady, together with her two daughters, all of them dressed with unusual smartness, stood at the inn door, courtesying repeatedly; and on Lady Drelincourt and Kate seeing them, they beckoned them to the carriage door, and inquired after their health, with such a kindness and interest in their manner, as almost brought tears into their eyes.

"So you have not forgotten us, Mrs. Spruce?" asked Lord Drelincourt, with a gay smile, as they handed a couple of glasses of water into the carriage, at the request of Lady Drelincourt and Kate, who were evidently getting very nervous with their proximity to Yatton, and the exciting scenes which must there be awaiting them.

"Oh, my Lord, forgotten your Lordship! No, my Ladies, not for one minute since the dismal day you all went—my Lord! There's such a stir, my Ladies, along the road—you'll see it all when you get a mile farther on!—Of course, your Lordship and your Ladyships know what's going to be done at the Hall"——

"Ah, ah! so I hear! Well—good-day, Mrs. Spruce!" cried Lord Drelincourt, and the next moment they had dashed off, in their last stage, and at a thundering pace, to be sure. It was nearly twelve o'clock at noon, and the day was bright and beautiful—and there was a fresh and exhilarating breeze stirring, which oft came laden with the rich scents of summer fields.

"Oh Agnes! oh Kate! what a contrast is this to the day on which our horses' heads, two years ago, were turned the other way!" exclaimed Lord Drelincourt; but received only a faint reply, for his companions were getting flurried and restless with the rapidly increasing evidences of excitement on the road. As they advanced, they overtook vehicles of every description, all containing people in gay holiday trim, and all with their horses' heads turned one way; viz. towards the great centre of attraction, Yatton. At length the augmenting number of carriages, chaises, cars, gigs, vans, carts, wagons—many of them decked with ribbons, flowers, and laurel boughs—compelled them to slacken their speed, and gave them fuller opportunities of witnessing the joyful enthusiasm with which their approach was greeted. Already they heard, or imagined they heard, from the direction of Yatton, the sounds of voices and music.

"I'm sure, Charles, I shall cry like a child"—quoth Kate, her eyes suddenly filling with tears; and such was the case also with Lady Drelincourt.

"And what, Kate, if you do?" cried her brother, joyfully, kissing and embracing them affectionately.

"Charles! Charles!—I declare there's old Granny Grimston—it is indeed!" cried Kate, eagerly, as they passed an old-fashioned market-cart, in which sat, sure enough, the good creature Miss Aubrey had mentioned, beside her daughter, to whom Kate waved her hand repeatedly—for the former had been an old pensioner of the late Mrs. Aubrey's.

Oh, what a sight burst upon them as soon as they had reached the turning of the road which brought them full in view of Yatton—the village and the Hall! They came, too, to a dead stand-still—'twas impossible to get on for some time, for they seemed to have got suddenly into the middle of some great fair! What a shout rent the air! Boughs of laurel were waving in all directions, with wreaths and ribbons! Beautiful nosegays were flung in through the carriage windows by men, women, and even children, all dressed in their best and gayest attire! Here was formed an equestrian procession that was to precede them into Yatton, consisting of some hundred stout Yorkshire yeomen, chiefly tenants of Lord Drelincourt and his neighbors. Louder and louder came the shouts of welcome from all quarters, before and behind, intermingled at length, as they entered the village, with the clash and clangor of cymbals, the thundering of drums, the sounds of trumpets, trombones, clarionets, and shrill inspiriting fifes. 'Twas really most exciting; and Lady Drelincourt and Kate were already amply fulfilling their own predictions. Their carriage suddenly stopped for some moments; and a louder shout than had till then been heard, burst around them, while the military band approached playing "Rule Britannia!" followed by a procession of at least two hundred horsemen, headed by Delamere, and all wearing his bright blue election colors! He thrust his hand into the carriage, and grasping those of each of them, again rode off. Here an attempt was made to take the horses out of Lord Drelincourt's carriage, which he peremptorily forbade, acknowledging, however, the affectionate enthusiasm which prompted the proposal, by repeatedly bowing in all directions as they passed down the village. Flags and branches of laurel hung from almost every window, and the crowd had become so great as to prevent them frequently from moving on for more than a minute or two together. At length they saw the dear old church, with its long, thin, gray spire—no doubt its little bells were ringing as loudly as they could be rung, but they were not heard; for the band at that moment, when within a few yards of the park gates, struck up in fine style the inspiriting air of "The King shall hae his ain again!" A great number of carriages were drawn up on each side of the entrance to the park, and the high antique iron gates and stone pillars were covered with wreaths of flowers and branches of laurel. Immediately within the gates, on each side, upon forms and stools, sat about a dozen of the oldest tenants on the estate, male and female, who, on the approach of Lord Drelincourt, lifted up their hands feebly towards heaven, while tears ran down their eyes, and they implored a blessing on those who were re-entering their own, after so long and cruel a separation from it. But here the eager and affectionate eyes of the travellers lit upon an object infinitely more interesting and affecting than any they had yet seen—'twas the venerable figure of Dr. Tatham, who, with his hat off, stood with his hand and his face elevated momentarily towards heaven, imploring a blessing upon those who were approaching. Lord Drelincourt instantly called for the carriage door to be opened, and within a moment or two's time, he had grasped the little doctor's hands in his own; and Lady Drelincourt and Kate, having also hastily alighted, had thrown their arms around him, and kissed him, with the feelings of two daughters towards a fond and venerated father. The little doctor was quite overcome, and could scarcely say a word—indeed, they were all much excited. At this point came up Mr. Delamere, who had dismounted at the gate, and placing Kate's arm hastily, and with a proud and triumphant air, within his own, while Lady Drelincourt was supported between her husband and Dr. Tatham, the two children following, with their attendants, immediately behind—in this manner they approached the Hall, each side of the avenue being lined with the gayly-dressed gentry of the neighborhood, collected from far and wide. When they reached the fine old gateway, there shot up suddenly into the air, upon a flag-staff planted upon the centre of the turret, a splendid crimson banner, while the band within the court-yard struck up the spirit-stirring air, one which no Englishman can listen to without emotion—"See the conquering hero comes!" The moment that they had passed under the gateway, what a gay and brilliant scene presented itself! Upon the steps fronting the door, and indeed all around, stood the most distinguished persons in the county, ready to greet the new-comers. There was the Lord-Lieutenant, the High Sheriff, two of the county Members—Catholics and Protestants—high Tories and high Whigs—there they were—the high-born, the beautiful—the gifted, the good—all crowding with eager and enthusiastic welcome around those who were thus returning to their own, after so extraordinary and infamous an exclusion and banishment. To Lady Drelincourt, to Miss Aubrey, to Lord Drelincourt himself, amid the overpowering excitement of the moment, it appeared as though they were in a vivid and dazzling dream; and they felt completely confused and bewildered. Lady De la Zouch, and one or two others of their considerate friends, observing the painful emotions with which Lady Drelincourt and Miss Aubrey were very nearly overcome, succeeded in withdrawing them for a while from the tumultuous scene into their chambers.

A splendid cold collation was spread in the hall for the immediate friends and guests of Lord Drelincourt, while an immense entertainment, of a more substantial description, was prepared under an awning, upon the beautiful terrace at the back of the Hall, for about three hundred people, consisting principally of the tenantry, their families and friends. (Half-a-dozen feasts were going on in the village, for those who were necessarily—from want of room—excluded from the terrace tables.) The substantial business of the day—viz. feasting—was to commence, both for gentle and simple, at three o'clock, shortly before which period Lady Drelincourt and Miss Aubrey appeared in the drawing-room, and then in the hall, infinitely the better for their refreshing toilets. 'Tis true that their eyes looked somewhat impaired by the excessive emotions occasioned by the events of the day—for they had both been several times, during their brief absence, on the verge of hysterics; yet for all that they looked a pair of as lovely women as dear Old England, rich in delicate beauty as it is, could produce. They both wore plain white muslin dresses, with small blue rosettes, which Lady De la Zouch had intimated would give a certain person infinite gratification—meaning the new member for the borough; for his colors were blue—whereof there was a modest glimpse in his own surtout. Lord Drelincourt also appeared greatly the better for his visit to his dressing-room, and was in the highest possible spirits—as well he might be, amid a scene so glorious and triumphant as that around him; all people, high and low, rich and poor, without distinction of party, vying with one another in doing him honor, and welcoming him back to the halls of his ancestors. At length, it being announced that all was in readiness, before sitting down to their own banquet, Lord Drelincourt, with Lady Drelincourt on one arm, and his sister on the other, and followed by Dr. Tatham, Mr. Runnington, and almost all his guests, passed along under the old archway that led over the bridge to the terrace, in order that the doctor might say grace before the feast began: and the instant that Lord and Lady Drelincourt and Miss Aubrey made their appearance, the shouting and clapping of hands, and waving of handkerchiefs, that ensued, defies description, completely overpowering Lady Drelincourt and Kate, and somewhat disturbing the equanimity of Lord Drelincourt himself. 'Twas several minutes before the least cessation occurred. At length, however, Mr. Griffiths, the steward, who was to preside on the occasion, succeeded in directing attention to Dr. Tatham, who stood uncovered ready to say grace, which he did as soon as there was a decent approach to silence; he and those who had accompanied him, then returning to the Hall. What a prodigious onslaught was instantly made on the enormous masses of beef, boiled and roast—the hams, the tongues, the fowls—and all the innumerable other good things which were heaped upon those hospitable tables. There was ale ad libitum; and, in addition to that, a bottle of port and of sherry to each mess of four, which latter luxuries, however, were generally reserved for the business which was to take place after the substantial part of the feast had been discussed.

According to a previous arrangement, about four o'clock intimation was given to the vast party upon the terrace, that Lord Drelincourt, accompanied by his guests, would come and take their seats for a short time at the head of the tables—his Lordship occupying the place of Mr. Griffiths. After a great bustle the requisite space was obtained at the head of the nearest table; and presently Dr. Tatham led in Lady Drelincourt, and Mr. Delamere, Kate; followed by Lord Drelincourt and all his visitors—their arrival being greeted in the same enthusiastic manner as before. After they had selected their places, but before they had sat down, Dr. Tatham returned thanks amid a sudden and decorous silence; and then all, having resumed their seats, had an opportunity of feasting their eager and fond eyes with the sight of those who had been so cruelly torn from them, and so long estranged. Lord Drelincourt sat at the head of the table, with Lady Drelincourt on one side and his sister upon the other, both looking exceedingly animated and beautiful. Beside Kate sat Mr. Delamere, his eyes greedily watching her every look and motion; and beside Lady Drelincourt sat the venerable Dr. Tatham, looking as happy and as proud as it was possible for him to look. After sitting for some minutes conversing with those immediately around him, during which time expectation had gradually hushed down the noise which had prevailed on their entering, Lord Drelincourt slowly poured out a glass of wine, his hand slightly trembling; and while Lady Drelincourt and Kate leaned down their heads, and hid their faces, he slowly rose, amid respectful and anxious silence. His voice was at all times clear and melodious, his enunciation distinct and deliberate; so that every word he uttered could be heard by all present. There were grace and dignity in his countenance and gestures; and you felt, as you looked and listened to him, that he was speaking from his heart. Thus he spoke:—

"Oh, my friends! what a happy moment is this to me and mine! What thanks do I not owe to God for His great goodness in bringing us again together in our former relations of mutual and uninterrupted respect and affection! You must not, however, expect me to say much now, for I cannot, because my heart is so full of love and respect to those whom I see around me, and of gratitude to God. May He, my dear friends, who is now beholding us, and marking the thoughts of our hearts, bless and preserve you all, and enable me never to give you cause to regret having thus affectionately welcomed me back again to my home! It pleased Him, my friends, that I, and those whom you see near me, and whom I so tenderly love, should be torn away suddenly, and for a long time, from all that our hearts held dear. The pangs it cost us—bear with me, my friends—the pangs it cost us"—here Lord Drelincourt was obliged to pause for some moments. "We have, since we left you all, gone through much affliction, a little privation, and some persecution. It was all, however, God's ordering, and we have besought Him that we might at all times feel and know it to be so, in order that we might never be impatient or rebellious. Ah, my friends! He is wiser and kinder in His dealings with us than we are often able to see; and as for myself, I think I can say that I would not have lost the lessons which my recent sufferings have taught me, for a thousand times my present advantages.

"What has befallen me has satisfied me, and I hope you too, of the slight hold we have of those advantages, of which we consider ourselves surest. Who can tell, dear friends, what a day or an hour may bring forth? And I hope I have also learned one of the great lessons of life, better than I knew it before—that cheerful resignation to the will of God is the only source of fortitude! God loves the voice of praise which He hears from the desert! Never, dear friends, when we are in our deepest difficulties and troubles—never, NEVER let us despair! Thank God, I never did, or you would not perhaps have seen me here to-day. God overrules everything for the real good of those who faithfully obey Him: and in our own case, I can assure you, that the very things which we looked upon as the cruellest and hardest to bear of all that had happened to us, turned out to be the very means by which we have been restored to the happiness which we are now met to celebrate! See how good God has been to us! When I look around me, and see what I am permitted to enjoy, and know what I deserve, I tremble.

"You all know, of course, that it has pleased God to place us a little higher in point of mere worldly station than we were before; but I think you will find that it has made only this difference in us; namely, that we are more sensible of the importance of the duties which we have to perform. 'Tis not, dear friends—I deeply feel—the mere coronet which confers true distinction, but how it is worn. I, of course, have only succeeded by birth, and, apparently, by accident, to that mark of distinction which the merit of some other person had won for him long ago. I trust I shall wear it with honor and humility, and that so—" he paused for a moment,—"will my son, after me.

"And now, my dear friends, I must conclude. You see how much those who are sitting near me are affected." Lord Drelincourt glanced fondly but hastily at Lady Drelincourt and his sister, paused for some time, and then in a lower tone resumed. "You may remember, some of you at least, the evening before we left Yatton; what you then said to me"—here again he paused, and for some time. "I have never forgotten that evening; the thought of it has often been like balm poured into a broken heart.

"I have heard that since I left you all, things have gone very differently from the way they went in my time. Oh, dear friends, there shall be no more extortion—there shall be no more oppression, at Yatton! I can, I think, answer for myself; and I think my little son will not take after his father if—you shall see my children presently—God bless you, dear friends! You see that I have now and then been overcome while speaking; I know you will bear with me. Were you in my place, and to look upon those whom I now look upon, you also would be overcome. But let our tears now pass away! Rejoice, dear friends, for it is a day of rejoicing! Be merry! be happy! I now from my heart drink—we all drink—all your healths! Here are health, and peace, and prosperity to you all! God bless you all!—God bless you all!"

Lord Drelincourt raised his glass to his lips, and drank off the wine it contained, his hand visibly trembling the while. He then sat down, evidently much subdued; and as for Lady Drelincourt, Miss Aubrey, and Lady De la Zouch—nay, everybody present—they were deeply affected by the simple and affectionate address that had fallen from Lord Drelincourt; and which was followed by a long silence, infinitely more expressive than the most vociferous responses. After a while, the band commenced playing, in a very beautiful manner,

There were heard several attempts, from time to time, from different quarters, to join in the chorus, but they were very faint and subdued; and Lord Drelincourt, perceiving the true state of the case, suddenly covered his face with his hands, and appeared for some moments powerfully affected. Then, affectionately taking the hands of Kate and Lady Drelincourt, he fondly whispered, that all their past sufferings were surely that day richly recompensed; and fearing lest his presence, and that of his distinguished guests, might be a check upon the freedom and hilarity of the great company before him, he rose, and bowing courteously to all around, and followed by those who had accompanied him, withdrew amid most vehement and prodigious cheering. A few minutes afterwards, according to Lord Drelincourt's promise, little Charles and Agnes were led in amid a thousand exclamations of fondness and admiration, (they were really very beautiful children;) and having had a little drop of wine poured into each of their cups, they drank timidly, as they were told, to the health of all present, and then skipped hastily back whence they had come.

I shall not detain the reader, with whom I am so soon about to part forever, with the description which I had prepared of the opening of Kate's school on the morrow; though I think he would like to have been present. A prettier one there is not in England; and if anything could have increased Kate's love for him who had taken such pains to please her in the matter, it was Dr. Tatham's informing her, a morning or two afterwards, that Mr. Delamere had endowed her school with fifty pounds a-year, forever. In proportion to Kate's sorrow on leaving her school, upon the occasion of their all being driven from Yatton, it may easily be believed, were her delight and gratitude, for this its complete and more efficient restoration. The opening of it by Dr. Tatham, in her presence, and also in that of Mr. Delamere, was doubtless an interesting ceremony, yet not to be compared, perhaps, with one that occurred a short month afterwards at Yatton, and in which the same three persons were principally concerned!

——Here is a heavenly morning in June! and Kate lying trembling and with beating heart, alone, in that old-fashioned chamber of hers, in which she was first seen by the reader—or at least, where he obtained a faint and dim vision of her.—'Tis very early, certainly; and as Kate hath passed a strange, restless night, she is at length closing her eyes in sleep; and as nothing is to be heard stirring, save yonder lark, that is carrying his song higher and higher out of hearing every moment, she will sleep for a while undisturbed.

—But now, rise, Kate! rise! It is your wedding morning! Early though it be, here are your fair bridemaids seeking admittance, to deck you in your bridal robes! Sweet Kate, why turn so pale, and tremble so violently? It is truly a memorable day, one long looked forward to with a fluttering heart—a day of delicious agitation and embarrassment; but courage, Kate! courage! Cannot these three beautiful girls who, like the Graces, are arraying you, as becomes your loveliness, with all their innocent arts and archness, provoke one smile on your pale cheek? Weep, then, if such be your humor; for it is the overflowing of joy, and will relieve your heart!—But hasten! hasten! your lover is below, impatient to clasp you in his arms! The maids of the village have been up with the sun, gathering sweet flowers to scatter on your way to the altar! Hark, how merrily, merrily ring the bells of Yatton church!—Nearer and nearer comes the hour which cannot be delayed; and why, blushing and trembling maiden, should you dread its approach? Hark—carriage after carriage is coming crashing up to the Hall!—Now your maidens are placing on your beautiful brow the orange blossoms—mysterious emblems:—

and a long, flowing, graceful veil, shall conceal your blushes!—Now, at length, she descends—and sinks into the arms of a fond and noble brother, whose heart is too full for speech, as is that of her sister! Shrink not, my beauteous Kate, from your lover, who approaches you, see how tenderly and delicately! Is he not one of whom a maiden may be proud? See the troops of ardent friends waiting to attend you, and do you honor! Everywhere that the eye looks, are glistening gay wedding favors, emblems of innocence and joy. Come, Kate—your brother waits; you go with him to church, but you will come back with ANOTHER! He who loves you as a father, the venerable minister of God, is awaiting your arrival! What a brilliant throng is in that little church!

Now her beautiful form is standing at the altar, beside her manly lover, and the solemn ceremony has commenced, which is to unite, with Heaven's awful sanction, these two young and happy and virtuous hearts!

'Tis done! Kate Aubrey! Kate Aubrey! where are you? She is no more—but, as Mrs. Delamere, is sitting blushing and sobbing beside HER HUSBAND, he elate with pride and fondness, as they drive rapidly back to the Hall. In vain glances her eye at that splendid banquet, as it shrinks also timidly from the glittering array of guests seated around it—and she soon retires with her maidens to prepare for her agitating journey!

Well, they are gone! My pure and lovely Kate is gone! 'Tis hard to part with her! But blessings attend her! Blessings attend you both! You cannot forget dear YATTON, where all that is virtuous and noble will ever with open arms receive you!