No. 48.] ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL SATURDAY, MARCH 30, 1850. THE LIFE OF A SHOWMAN. [PRICE 1d. articles of wearing apparel, and even many of what we now consider as the ordinary necessaries of life. The nobility and gentry, and the great monastic establishments, laid in their stock of goods at fairs, sometimes travelling to them upwards of one hundred miles for the purpose; the farmers sold their grain and cattle, and hired their servants there. High courts were held by the Bishop or Lord of the Manor, to accommodate which special buildings were erected, which were used only at fair times. Particular streets were set apart for the sale of different commodities, and regulations were ordered and strictly enforced on such occasions; royal charters were granted to certain towns, authorizing them to hold their fairs, and often peculiar and especial privileges were attached to them. By no means an inconsiderable portion of the revenues of the religious houses was drawn from the tolls, which they were, from time to time, authorized to levy on the goods passing towards the fair. The concourse of people attending these fairs was immense; and merchants came even from beyond seas for the purpose of selling their commodities there. The great merchants of London were represented, and their large stock of goods performed the round of the great fairs. In the train of all this bustle and trade, followed a crowd of ministers to the popular amusement-quack-salvers, single-stick players, jugglers, minstrels, mummers, and a host of strolling sport-makers and merrimen. But these times have passed away. Elegant and well-stocked shops are now to be found in every town; the glory of the fairs has departed; and nearly all that remains of them are the travelling showmen and ginger-bread sellers of the village festivals. THE remains of a singular nomadic race are still extant in England, who may be found journeying about from town to town during the season of fairs and feasts. On the eve of a town or village fair, you find converging from nearly all points of the compass a motley crew of tumblers, organ-grinders, nut and ginger-bread sellers, toymen, swing-men, hobby-horse men, and last, but not the least interesting of the lot, Punch and Judy exhibitors and showmen. In a single day, these men throw a violent life into even the most demure little village; and instead of sleeping in its wonted quiet, you find it suddenly resounding with the din of gongs, drums, trumpets, cymbals, and watchmen's rattles; and the very night is made hideous by the noisy competition of rival establishments for the patronage of the village population. On the stages in front of the booths, Indian princes and Spanish monarchs strut in fictitious diamonds and brazen spangles, until the eyes of the infant populace ache in gazing at them. Sundry pennies and half-pennies, carefully hoarded up for the occasion, are expended on these indefatigable caterers for the public amusement; after which, the booths are closed, the tents struck, the hobbyhorses taken down, the nuts and ginger-bread stowed away in boxes, and all packed up and conveyed away in a night by horses and donkies, and the village is as suddenly abandoned to silence as it had been suddenly invaded by noise, the whole troop of small dealers and showmen having betaken themselves to some similar village fair or festival, perhaps twenty cr fifty miles off. There is no doubt that the nomadic gentry of whom A curious little book just published entitled "The Life we speak are nearly all that remains of the old travelling of a Showman, by David Prince Miller, late proprietor merchants, travelling quacks, travelling troubadours, and and manager of the Adelphi Theatre, Glasgow," has travelling stage-players of England. Some centuries ago, come under our notice, and from this interesting account these were a far more important people than they are we are enabled to give the reader a brief insight into the now. Fairs and festivals were then regarded as of great strange wandering life of the modern Showman. This importance and interest. Every town held its festival, little book is full of the most curious incident and adwhich was also the time of its fair, under the protection of venture; it bears the impress of truth; and, though the some especial saint, and the business and pleasures of the style in which it is written, is very unpretending, it has neighbourhood were generally concentrated on that par- proved far more interesting to us than many a popular three ticular occasion. The shops then established in the volume novel. A Dickens could find in its pages some towns throughout the country were few and paltry. No capital material for original character. Miller was born well-assorted stock of goods was kept; and all classes in London, where his father was employed in a mercanwaited for the season of the fair to supply themselves with tile agency office. Young Miller was employed to go about collecting subscriptions; and he thus introduces gagement" with Richardson, and, hiring from one of the the story of his fall from this respectable office to the status of a strolling player: The performers "a most splendid spangled Spanish costume," he invited the crowd in front of the booth to "walk "One day I was returning home with the sum of about forward, walk forward, just going to commence, &c." £18 in my pocket, which was my father's property, and The fair, however, passed, as also two other fairs in three or four shillings of my own, when opposite Astley's neighbouring towns, after which, as the concern was Amphitheatre, a large crowd attracted my attention. about to proceed to some smaller fairs, supernumeraries They were witnessing the performance of a very clever were discharged, and our hero among the number. An boy, one of a company of show people; he was tossing in engagement with the owner of a caravan followed,-his the air, knives, rings, balls, &c., and catching them in a duty being to invite the public to "step forward," and very dexterous manner. After a part of the performance patronize the establishment. With this caravan he trahad been exhibited, a collection was made, and the hat was velled northward. The wonders of the exhibition conheld to me. I certainly was very much pleased with the sisted of "a giantess, nearly eight feet high, a dwarf, performance, and gave the man a shilling, prompted as thirty-six inches in height, and a lady with white hair. much by the desire to show off as to be liberal, for in The dwarf was a little decrepid old woman, though in the act of dropping the shilling into the hat, I did not the bills she was depicted as symmetry itself. forget to call out loud enough to be heard, and with white-haired lady was certainly a curiosity, although now great pomp Here my man is a shilling for you! Not-no great novelty; and the giantess, who was exhibited withstanding this, the man who had been collecting, in as eight feet high, was in reality about five feet ten. his harangue to the assembled crowd, said, 'he had been rival showman at Leeds, having, however, offered to round among this ere lot of people and all the money these attractive personages higher wages, they left the he'd got was seven-pence ha'penny; there is just seven caravan; and the owner was put to his wits, having on us,' said he, and the donkey, so that it's only a nothing to produce. penny a piece and a ha'penny for the donkey; and I cannot think of allowing the exhibition to go on unless we get eighteen pence, vich I considers is little enough for our trouble; so, if you make up tenpence ha'penny more among you, you shall see the whole of the performance, and the strong man will balance the donkey on his chin.' In a very few seconds lots of coppers were showered into the ring-I should think at least three shillings;--but the showman was not an adept at calculation, and upon counting the cash he said, 'It was all right, 'septing three ha'ponce--three ha'pence more, and up goes the donkey! Another shower of coppers, I may venture to say a shilling. The rest of the performance was exhibited, and-up went the donkey!" "Some years previous to this, he had had a black giantess, who, in consequence of getting married, left his concern. He still retained her dress, and proposed that I should personate the black giantess, who he said was about my size. I at first refused, but he became so importunate, that I consented: for he was not a bad sort of man, notwithstanding his present attempt at imposi tion, which I considered harmless, and almost excusable under his peculiar circumstances; as he was also very short of money, the loss of the fair might altogether ruin him. I was consequently attired in a fantastic sort of dress, which was decorated with feathers, beads, &c., and I was exhibited as the great black giantess, nearly eight feet high. Of course my face had to undergo the operation of being blackened with burnt cork and grease. We had a very good fair. A number expressed their doubts as to my being what was alleged. Sometimes a drunken fellow would endeavour to take liberties with me, when my ladyship would most indignantly repel the insult by giving the fellow a sound thump on the head. Indeed, I was compelled to be very violent, for too close an inspection would have exposed the whole affair. At the conclusion of the performance, Miller was proceeding homewards, when he was overtaken by the showmen, one of whom exclaimed on seeing him, "Vy Bill, that's the young gemmen vot giv'd me the shilling.' The lad's vanity was excited, and nothing would serve him but treating the men to a drop of porter. From porter the party passed to stronger drink, and the young man soon became insensible. He opened his eyes the following morning in a beggar's lodging-house, when a "One day a sturdy fellow seemed resolved to have a strange sight met his eyes-eight cribs ranged around kiss. I resisted with all my might, but was overpowered: him, most of them occupied. One gent in a state of the gentlemen not only got a kiss, but a face nearly as nudity, was half leaning out of bed smoking a short black as my own, a considerable quantity of my dingy pipe, another was in the act of putting on a bundle of complexion being transferred from my face to his, prerags, and a third was stitching away at his inexpres-senting to the on-lookers a rather ludicrous appearance, sibles. A distant recollection of what had passed The crowd retired from the caravan expressing their conthe previous night flashed through the young man's tempt at the exhibition; but, amidst the noisy din of brain, and he asked for his trowsers in which his money drums and trumpets, nobody heard them; the proprietor had been placed. Strange to say, it was all there, with at the same time bawling through a speaking trumpetthe exception of a few shillings which had been spent the Hear what they say of the black giantess !-never saw night previous at the drinking house. The men had such a sight before! Hear them-they say its worth a taken care of him after he became insensible, and shilling a piece! Come on, only a penny! And anobrought him to their lodgings lest harm should come to ther crowd would rush in to see the tall, black, Indian him. He was afraid however to return home, fearful of queen, as I was denominated. the anger of his father for having stopped out all night, and also because he could not make good the entire amount of subscriptions he had collected. So he unbo- The next character he appeared in was at Halifax, n somed himself to one of the showmen, confessed his par- the "Warwickshire Hero," in a sparring booth. Deaf tiality for the stage, and was assured by his confidant Burke, and the Welsh Champion were the main attracthat he could easily procure for him a situation in some tions; but as the junior exhibitor was put first to mext theatre in the country, whither they intended to proceed all comers, and he had no "science," he was terribly in a few days. So he accompanied the showmen on their pommelled, and abandoned the engagement at the close of rounds, so long as his money lasted, and then they dis-the first day's performance. He next joined a conjuror, appeared, and he was left to his own shifts, destitute. He reached Portsmouth about fair time, and there accidentally fell in with an old acquaintance, who was engaged as a strolling player with Richardson, the celebrated showman. He succeeded in obtaining "an en "I soon became tired of the confinement necessary to this engagement, and gave up the situation." and from him acquired the accomplishments of eating fire, and ejecting ribbons, pins, and needles, in any quantity. from his mouth. Then he formed one of a company of equestrians; after that, served as bill-distributor for a quack-doctor-" the celebrated Doctor De Magno”—s great scoundrel, whose service he soon left in disgust. He reached, one evening, the neighbourhood of a village in which a fair was about to be held, and having no money in his pocket, was about to enjoy the luxury of a night's lodging in the open air. "It was a beautiful moonlight night, and at the end of the town I espied a large barn, with a quantity of clean straw outside. Here I resolved to take up my quarters, but upon inspection I found, by creeping through a hole, that there was more comfortable accommodation within; and, naturally preferring being under cover, I crept through the hole, and was proceeding to arrange for my night's rest, when I stumbled upon something which proved to be a man, who bawled out, "Hollo! what the dickens are you about?" I answered, I was a poor fellow who had crept in for shelter, a stranger, and meant no offence. "If that's the case," said the voice, "lie down and make yourself comfortable;" which I did, and slept soundly until morning. publicans, too, at this period, were more profitably employed than attending to the orders of the poor showman, whose whole stock of cash did not amount to more than a shilling or two, and often wet, cold, and perhaps hungry, we were obliged to take up our quarters in a hay-loft, and glad to get it. And in a year or two afterwards, the natural consequence of most marriages, presented itself in the persons of a couple of young showmen, who did not by any means diminish our locomotive vicissitudes, as the aforesaid young gentleman could not think of travelling on foot, the eldest being but fifteen months old." To accommodate his little family of showmen, Miller bought a donkey-cart, and trundled on with them from town to town. Once he lost his donkey, and had to drag the cart for twenty miles to a fair held the following day. Another time his donkey died-severe calamity indeed to a poor showman. Wife fell ill, and in the midst of sickness the showman played merry-andrew. While his "When I awoke, I found that the barn was occupied heart was torn, he had to make the populace laugh. He with scenery, and other effects denoting theatrical pro-lost his clothes, and had to travel under the cover of perty. The corps dramatique had taken up their lodging night as a Spanish Don, in spangles. He joined a small in the barn, not being able to procure accommodation theatrical party at Birmingham, consisting of four men, elsewhere, and had not yet commenced their season. I two women, and a fiddler. In his own person he repreinquired for the manager, and was introduced to a little sented the whole French army at Waterloo. One evenman, who had just emerged from a Punch and Judy ing, in The Fatal Snow Storm, he was employed in frame, which he had made into a sort of tent, and, after making a heavy fall of snow descend upon those beneath, a short conversation, was by him engaged. the snow being composed of pieces of cut paper contained in a tea-board," when in an unlucky moment, his foot slipped, and down he feil and broke his arm. "Magical delusions" followed when his arm got well, then he joined a partner in a small caravan, and set up his erection at the village of Chowbent, near Manchester. The structure was very frail, and the uncouth villagers jeered its proprietor rudely. "I learnt from the leading actor, a chimney-sweep, that this was the first attempt of the Punch and Judy-man at theatrical management, he having purchased a few old scenes and dresses for a mere trifle, these having been left behind for debt by some unfortunate strollers some time before. The company, besides myself and the sweep, consisted of a young lady (a vender of oranges), Mr. Punch and his wife, and two other gentlemen, one of whom had been a timber-merchant (a match-maker), but the former profession of the other I did not learn. "I received and accepted an invitation to breakfast with the manager, immediately after which we proceeded to fit up the scenery, which was accomplished in about two hours. The manager then issued forth with his Punch and Judy exhibition, performing publicly through the fair; and the leading actress was also engaged as a dealer in foreign fruit, her stock consisting principally of oranges, which she sold at the low rate of two for a penny. The sweep also practised his avocation, but being fair time, he imagined he was not likely to get much employment." Our hero's first experiments, as a theatrical manager, proved failures, and he left his valuable wardrobe and properties in a granary at Middleton, but he never thought it worth his while to reclaim them. He engaged in other partnerships; performed privately in magic and jugglery; attended races, and gave expositions of the trickery of thimble-rig; officiated in the front of caravans containing giants and menageries of wild beasts. He served under the great Wombwell, and invited admiring thousands to "step forward." Sometimes he succeeded in saving as much as ten pounds, and made bold to set up for himself, but in a week he would be without a farthing, and everything was gone to pledge. A partnership with a company of tumblers at Bristol did him no good; nor did his exhibition of a pig-faced lady-the said "lady" being a shaved bear, strapped in a chair. He could not tell lies enough for this exhibition, and was discharged. In the Lidst of his utter bankruptcy he married. Poor wife of the travelling showman! "Experience taught her that the itinerant showman's wife has any thing but an easy life. For instance, to travel thirty miles to a fair, and when you arrive to find the town so full of strangers, that no accommodation can be procured; and to add to our discomfort, perhaps drenched to the skin with rain; indeed this was frequently the case. The "I say ow'd lad, what's that for?" was asked by a gentleman, in a velvet shooting-coat, with his shirt-collar turned down over his coat, displaying a neck and breast as red as a turkey-cock's. "It's a show," was the answer. "A show! whoy it's more like a gipsy's camp! How much do you give to anybody to go into it, for I'd be hanged if I would enter it unless I were paid for it." Such remarks as these rather damped the proprietor's hope of success; and he almost wished he had not paid a visit to Chowbent. But the performances were arranged, and the showman, in white trowsers and a spangled jacket, mounted an old box, and commenced a concert of instrumental music-blowing an old tin trumpet till he was nearly black in the face, and lustily beating a drum with his spare hand. He was carrying on a roaring trade, and hoped to save a few pounds out of the Chowbentians, when an unlucky incident occurred which again made him bankrupt. A bull-bait had taken place at the end of the village, and after the animal had been tortured till it was mad, it broke loose, and ran foaming through the village, overturning everything that came in its way. The poor showman's booth lay across its path, and some second-hand red curtains which decorated its front having particularly attracted the bull's attention, he rushed furiously at the booth, demolished utterly the rickety concern, and dashed away again, bearing half the canvas on his horns. The remainder was sold for old rags, and the showman returned to Manchester with only a few shillings in his pocket. He went to Leeds, joining one Scott, a man famous for his trick of making puddings and pancakes in a hat; removed thence to Northallerton with a party of fifteen, to take the Northallerton Theatre, where he had but small success; then took to exhibiting a sea storm and magical illusions; and for two years thereafter, he wandered about the counties of Durham, Northumberland, Cumberland, and the south of Scotland,-with his wife and family, generally faring very badly, and often reduced to his last sixpence. They were sometimes saved from perishing by mere accident. At the very blackest hour, fortune would take a happy turn, and they were all merry again. Often did the poor showman himself find an opportunity of doing a kind act to some fellow-creature more miserable than himself; for the very poor help the poor far more than the very rich do. They have a strong fellow-feeling, and are the ministers to each other of many small blessings. Here is an instance : establishment (the City Theatre) in his immediate neighbourhood, for the performance of the legitimate drama. The one house drained the other, and both failed. Miller again became bankrupt, and was under the necessity of falling back upon his "magical illusions" and his booth. He contracted for an exhibition of the Bosjesmen; succeeded with them in Glasgow, but failed with them in the country: the issue was, that he was "completely cleaned out." The "Life of a Showman" ends in these words: assisted me to commence again upon my own account; and at the present Leeds fair, 1849, I am practising the vocation (surrounded by a very agreeable chorus of gongs, drums, and trumpets) of bawling at the top of my voice, Walk up! walk up! only a penny!"" THE FACE. The human face is a marvellous book; Having some other little affairs to settle in Newcastle,-"A gentleman high in the theatrical profession has I proceeded thither on foot, for the purpose of conveying our families to Belford. I accomplished the journey, a distance of forty-five miles, in about fifteen or sixteen hours; no very great feat, but I was wretchedly tired before I reached my destination. When I had walked twelve or thirteen miles, I overtook a poor woman with a child in her arms, and another trudging by her side, about three years of age, crying most bitterly. I inquired what was the matter with the poor little fellow, and endeavoured to pacify him. The mother, in broad Irish accents, informed me she was already kil't carrying the two of them, and that he was crying to be carried. I inquired how far she was going? She told me her husband had left her some time since in Berwick, and having obtained work at Newcastle, she was going to him. During this time the poor child had never ceased crying. I thought of my own poor children, and how often I should have felt grateful for a similar favour, and without more ado, placed the little ragged urchin on my back. The poor woman expressed her gratitude; and on we trudged. At length a village presented itself. I disencumbered myself of my burden, and giving the woman a few coppers (I was not overburthened with cash at the time), I desired her to make the best of her way, and that probably I should soon overtake her again, and would again assist her. She left me, after having invoked all sorts of blessings on my head." This kindness done to the poor Irishwoman was like, however, to get the showman into trouble. The constable of the village had almost apprehended him as a vagrant, for sending his "imp " and children begging through the village the Irishwoman having been mistaken for his partner, but an explanation was given, and he was allowed to go his ways. After this, he was nearly converted to Methodism by some indefatigable preachers, one of whom contrived to preach from his stage to the populace without, while he was vomiting fire, pins, needles, &c., for their edification within. After a variety of success, he wandered northward into Scotland, and reached Glasgow in July, 1839, at the period of its annual fair. He erected his booth, and enjoyed a rare run of good luck. At the end of the fair, he found he had saved upwards of seventy pounds. So he commenced theatricals, formed a company, purchased "properties," greatly improved his booth, and made a circuit among the large towns, with but moderate success. He returned again to Glasgow, erected his booth, and issued play-bills. Alexander, the lessee of the Theatre Royal, commenced a prosecution of him, and Miller at once became famous. In course of time he obtained a license, erected the Royal Adelphi Theatre, attracted crowded houses, and performed the legitimate drama. Macready, Miss Cushman, Phelps, Mrs. Butler, G. V. Brooke, Sheridan Knowles, Mrs. Glover, Captain Harvey Tucket, and the other leading stars of the theatrical world, successively performed in his theatre. It was in the Adelphi that the strange incident occurred (which went the round of the papers at the time), of a military gentleman suddenly recognising his wife in one of the performers. They had been separated for nineteen years, each party thinking the other to have been dead long ago. The man and his wife were again formally married, and are now living in retirement at Liverpool. Miller enjoyed a fair measure of success, until Mr. Anderson, the great wizard, erected a rival Our summers are deepening the dimple of mirth, Till years have worn threadbare the velvet of birth, The beatings of hearts that are breaking unseen, As the hand of the clock tells the working within, How closely these sorrowful miniatures stand, LUCY DEAN; THE NOBLE NEEDLEWOMAN. (Continued from page 331.) Thus early and late Lucy plied her needle. On Sunday, however, just as the day closed in, and if it were in any degree passable weather, she might be seen on her way to the village where Mary Austen lived, and there, after a gaze upon the lighted casement panes, a moment's lingering by the garden wicket, a leaf of ivy gathered, and a blessing and a prayer, she retraced her steps, refreshed and newly strengthened for the labour of the coming week! One evening in February, and about three months after her first knowledge of Mary Austen, and whilst sitting at her work, she suddenly recollected that her promise to visit Brutus Twiddlesing had never been fulfilled. She therefore, as the night was bright, and her eyes and fingers sore-tired with the long day's work, she put it by, dressed, and went her way thither. Everything was in its old place; the shop, the birds, the little old man, his quaint snuff-box, saving that O'Flanagan was not there, and that Brutus, instead of leaning indolently on the counter, was busy at a sort of little carpenter's bench, at the rear of his shop, with an owl, chained to its perch, roosting solemnly above his head. "This wisit," said Brutus, in a somewhat mysterious manner, when he had recognised and greeted the needlewoman, "isn't jist the thing in the way o'time; it 53 should have bin a little afore, or a little to come. For nose, how was she dressed, was she tall or short, what did she say?" And when Lucy with brimming eyes had answered these to the best of her ability, by relating entirely her two interviews with Mary Austen, the enthu siasm of the three old men knew no bounds; they took "birds' eggs" to an amazing extent, repeated their questions again and again, vowed severally and together, that there was not such another little woman in the whole world as this Mary, and that her writings, instead of being done up in "silk paper," deserved the very best “ gilt and morocco!" Yes! thus shall it ever be with genius; it speaks from out the heart; it links soul to soul; it flows around the universe, and ascending to the heavens, man must, by the very condition of his being, worship what comes from thence, what there returns, what is there enshrined, as what is greatest and divinest in all nature! "Oh, dear, no," replied Brutus, taking a pinch of snuff by way of assistance, "only changed his condition." So saying, he brought from the snuggest retreat of the Twiddlesing Aviary" a cage as big as a large barrel-organ, in which, to Lucy's astonishment, was not only roosted Sweet, but snugly by his side another little bird, as golden as himself, though smaller, whilst on a little shelf at the rear of the cage was a tiny nest, which, though not yet completed, was already snug and warm with moss and wool, and downy feathers. The cage, too, was not only roomy enough to have accommodated a brood hen and a dozen ducklings most conveniently to their respective tastes, but was also so trimly kept as to show the love and care of the bird-fancier. "Ye see," continued Brutus, delivering himself most gravely, "this here matter has bin o' great consideration | to me; for, in the first place, it's an uncommon bird; next, it was lonely; third, as you are going far away, and O'Flanagan has taken amazingly to it, I thought it would be best with a little mate: and so, if there was a brood, there might not only be an uncommon little songster a-piece for the Counsellor, for the dear young lady, whose writings O'Flanagan and Noseby put up in silk paper, for me as may be said to be their rearer and edicater, but also one or two for you; so that in far-off lands, if one should die, you won't be quite out o' them sort o' notes, as many a sunny morning 'll make ye think o' dear old England and absent friends. Ay! ay! in them far-off lands, a woice as the ear has bin used to is a precious thing. But, as I said, ye come at a wrong time; a little afore you'd have known nothing about it—a little later, and you'd've seen the little eggs, or four or five little Sweets with gaping bills above the nest, for bliss ye, little creturs like them take an uncommon deal o' nourishment, and never leave off gaping till they git sumfen." Whilst thus speaking, Mr. Brutus had been unlatching Sweet's cage door, and now disturbing the tiny householder from its perch, placed it on Lucy's finger. Though it was then night-time, though thus disturbed from its quiet sleep, the little tiny fluttering thing recognised the seamstress in a minute, and pecking and rubbing its bill upon her finger, flitted at last to her shoulder with downy wing, there to repeat its tiny homage, as it were, to the poor dead lad who had raised it from its callow nest. As it thus perched, Brutus Twiddlesing adjourned to the place where he had been working when Lucy came in; soon returning with a half-finished cage of very large dimensions, which he was constructing himself, as he informed Lucy, "for Sweet's woyage," and which he exhibited with an amount of pride quite ludicrous. It was pretty clear, however, that the greatest amount of Twiddlesing's genius was being expended on it; for a sort of movable shutter "to keep out wind, and rain, and sun" encompassed it, it had a receptacle for a great amount of bird-seed, plantains, sugar, and lady's-fingers, and a proposed fountain, large enough for an aviary. When thus this handicraft had been duly exhibited, Sweet was restored to the company of Mrs. Sweet, the cage hung up, and Lucy was invited to the inner room. Though not desirous of staying, and telling Brutus so, yet the instant he heard that she had seen Mary Austen, he not only overwhelmed her with questions, but must make her remain whilst he himself set off to fetch Noseby and O'Flanagan, and they returning with him, the fire was stirred up, the cloth laid for supper, and this quickly over, the table was drawn aside, the "bird's-nest" restored, the fat bottle produced, and the three old men, as great oddities in their way as could be, commenced a ceaseless fire of questions. "What sort of eyes had she, what sort of hair, what sort of a Leaving the three enthusiastic old men to their "bird's-nest" and further discourse, Lucy returned home. The house where she lodged was, as I have said, a mean and sordid place, and the staircase used in common by many, led to the street door being often left to stand ajar for hours together. She was therefore surprised, though not alarmed, when, on the garret landing, she stumbled over something lying there. Procuring a light, and bringing it from her room, she was astounded to find a human being lying huddled up, and more so when, putting down the candle, she recognised the pinched and emaciated features of Mrs. Moss's little servant, Peg. As the girl was either insensible from cold or illness, Lucy dragged her into the room, lighted the fire, laid her before it, made some tea, and succeeded in pouring a few drops into her mouth, but with little effect for some considerable time. At length, when partly roused, she seemed suddenly to recognise Lucy, and wildly clinging round her, begged to be saved. "Oh! I thought I should never find you," she sobbed, 'for since I run away, after the dreadful beating missis gave me, and Mr. Moses helped her mum, I bin searching for you everywhere. Oh! please, and now I've found you, don't let me go again there. Oh, pray don't. I won't eat no wittles Miss; I'll go begging, and get some, only let me be with you; I'll clean the room, and do anything "But I am very poor, Peg," said Lucy, "and though I have work, it is upon condition that I save as much of my earnings as I can, and besides, I am going to sail away in a ship to a far land, in a little while. So, perhaps, if I speak to your parish about you, they'd "Oh no, mum, not the parish; they'd punish me, and send me back to Mrs. Moss; and I can't go there, I'd rather be drownd'd, that I would. Please let me stop, I won't eat no wittles." Repeating these last words over and over, and over again, as if stamped upon her brain by some process of the Jewess, as iron letters on a granite rock, she relapsed into insensibility, and as to have driven into, or laid in the street the miserable child who had fed her with the herring and potatoe in her own hungry hour, was an impossibility, let the consequences be what they might, Lucy placed small Peg in her bed, fetched the parish doctor, and till she grew better, was the tenderest of nurses. By this time, habit brought about what a sense of duty might not have permitted in the first instance: and thus Peg remained from week to week-always going, to be sure-but never gone. length Lucy found her too useful to part with, for, besides cleaning the room and going errands, she began to sew tidily, and to do the plainer portion of the work in hand. At One night as they sat together, Peg said abruptly, having never mentioned the circumstance before,"Please mum, don't Miss Nelly bring her baby here sometimes?" Baby," gasped Lucy, as turning pale, and faint, and |