CHAPTER LXXXV.

THE HISTORY OF A LIVERY-SERVANT.

"My parents were very poor, but very honest; and I was their only child. My father was a light porter in a warehouse, earning fifteen shillings a week; and my mother took in washing to obtain a few shillings more. We lived in a court leading out of High Holborn, and occupied one room, which was very decently furnished for people in my parents' condition of life, the things moreover being all their own. My father had a good suit of clothes, and my mother a nice gown, bonnet, and shawl, for Sundays and holidays; and they also took care to keep me neat and decent in my dress. Neither of them ever went to the public-house except just to fetch the beer for dinner and supper; and they were always regular in their attendance at church. In addition to all these proofs of good conduct and respectability, they put by two or three shillings a-week as a provision against a rainy day; and you may be sure that to be able to do this, they lived very economically indeed. In fact a more industrious couple did not exist than my father and mother; and you will admit that they deserved to succeed in the world. This much I have heard from people who knew them; for they died when I was too young to be able to understand their ways or judge of their merits.

"It seems that my mother was a very pretty young woman. She had been a servant in the family of the merchant in whose warehouse my father was; and, an attachment, springing up between them, they married. The merchant, whose name was Shawe, had a son—a dissipated young man, addicted to gaming and bad company, and consequently a source of great uneasiness to his parents, who were highly respectable people. During the time that my mother was in service at the merchant's, Frederick Shawe was on the Continent, his father having sent him to a commercial establishment at Rotterdam, in the hope that he would amend his ways when under the care of comparative strangers. But this hope, it appears, was completely disappointed; and the young man was after all sent back to his father's house as irreclaimable. At this time my parents had been married three years, and I was two years old. My mother was in the habit of taking my father's dinner to him at the warehouse, whenever his duties prevented him from running home to get it; and on one of these occasions, Frederick Shawe saw her as she was going out of the establishment. He followed her, made insulting proposals, and behaved most grossly. She had me with her; and this circumstance rendered his conduct the more abominable, if any thing was wanting to aggravate it. Indeed, his persecution was carried to such an excess, that she was obliged to take refuge in a shop, where she went into hysterics through fright and indignation. Shawe sneaked away the moment he found that the master of the shop was disposed to take my mother's part against him; and when she was a little recovered, she was sent home in a hackney-coach. On the return of my father in the evening, she told him all that had occurred; and it seems that she had scarcely made an end of her narrative, when Frederick Shawe entered the room. He declared that he had come to express his sincere penitence for what he had done, and to implore that his father might not be made acquainted with his behaviour. He seemed so earnest, and so excessively sorry for his infamous conduct, that my parents consented to look over it. He thanked them over and over again, and took his departure. My father, however, desired his wife never to come to the warehouse to him any more, as he was unwilling to expose her to even the chance of a repetition of the insult.

"A few weeks after this occurrence Frederick Shawe one evening, when under the influence of liquor, called at our lodgings, my father being absent, and renewed his outrageous conduct towards my mother. An alarm was created in the dwelling—a constable was sent for—and the young gentleman was taken off to the watch-house. Of course the matter was now too serious to be hushed up; and the elder Mr. Shawe necessarily learnt all the particulars. His son was fined and held to bail to keep the peace towards Mrs. Jeffreys; and my father obtained another situation—for though the old merchant knew that his son was alone to blame, yet my father thought that he could not prudently remain in a place where he must daily meet a person who, he felt convinced, was now his sworn enemy. And such indeed did Frederick Shawe prove to be; for by misrepresentations and heaven only knows what other underhand means, he so successfully avenged himself that my poor father soon lost his new situation, and was totally unable to find another. The most infamous reports were circulated concerning him; and he took the cruel treatment he had received so much to heart, that his spirit was completely broken—he fell ill, and died in a few weeks.

"Poverty and despair thus seized upon my mother at the same moment. She saw all her happiness suddenly blasted by the agency of a reckless villain; and, to add to her afflictions, the only friend who showed any compassion for her or who came forward to assist her in the midst of her wretchedness—namely, the old merchant—was suddenly snatched away by the hand of death, ten days after the earth had closed over my father's remains. The poor woman was unable to bear up against her sorrows: she languished for a few months, and then departed this life, leaving me a friendless and unprotected orphan at the tender age of three years! You may guess what then became of me: I was taken to the workhouse!

"I have sketched these circumstances just to show you how unfortunate I was in my earliest infancy. My parents would have lived to thrive and prosper had it not been for the miscreant Frederick Shawe; and under their protection I should have been happy. However, it was destined that my father and mother should be cut off thus early; and their cruel fate threw me as a pauper-child upon the parish. At the workhouse I remained until I was thirteen; and it was from an elderly couple whom distress brought to the same place, and who had known my parents well, that I learnt all the particulars which I have related to you. Well, at the age of thirteen I was transferred to the care of a surgeon and accoucheur, who took me into his house to clean the boots and shoes, run on errands, and beat up drugs in the mortar. Finding me active and, as he said, a good-looking lad—for I was not then seared with the small-pox as I am now—he put me into the regular livery of a doctor's boy after I had been with him a few months; and I was then entrusted with the delivery of the medicine. My master was an old man; and his wife was a bustling, active, elderly lady, in whom implicit confidence might be placed as long as she was well paid for her services and her secresy. You will understand what I mean very shortly. In fact one day I noticed a great deal of whispering between the doctor, his wife, and the housekeeper; and their looks were mysterious and important. Certain preparations, too, commenced, which showed me that a visitor was expected; for I was a shrewd and observing boy for my age. I was ordered to clean the windows in the spare bed-room and the well-furnished little parlour communicating with it; and while I was thus occupied, the housekeeper put the two apartments into the nicest possible order. I asked her if any one was coming to stay at the house, and was desired to mind my own business. I accordingly held my tongue; but my curiosity was only the more excited in consequence of the answer I received and the mystery in which the motive of the preparations in progress was involved. At an earlier hour than usual I was ordered to retire to my own room; but as it commanded a view of the street—it was Brook Street, Holborn—I sate up, watching at my window—for I felt sure that I had not been dismissed to my attic without some good reason. Nor was I mistaken. At about half-past ten a hackney-coach drove up to the door: two trunks were carried into the house, and a lady, muffled in a cloak, was assisted to descend from the vehicle by the doctor and his wife, who seemed to treat her with the greatest respect. I was able to notice all that passed, because the moon was bright and I was looking out of the open window. The lady accompanied the doctor and his wife in-doors; and the coach drove away.

"Next morning I saw the housekeeper take up a breakfast-tray to those rooms which I had now no doubt were occupied by the lady who had arrived the night before; but I was cautious not to appear even to notice that any thing unusual was going on, much less to ask questions,—for I remembered the rebuff I had already received in this latter respect. The cook and housemaid were as mysteriously reserved as the housekeeper herself; and I could not for the life of me make out what it all meant. To be brief, a month passed away; and though I never saw the tenant of the spare-rooms all the while, yet I knew that a tenant those rooms had; for the meals were regularly taken up—the doctor looked in there two or three times a day—and his wife passed hours together there. At length the housemaid, who was a pretty, wicked-looking girl of about nineteen, undertook to initiate me into the secret which so much puzzled me; and, taking advantage of a Sunday evening when she and I were alone together, the other servants having gone out, she explained how some young lady, who was not married, was about to become a mother—and how the spare-rooms were always kept for lodgers of that kind.—'Have you seen her?' I asked.—'No,' she replied; 'nor am I likely to see her. I have been four years in this house, and during that time there have been eight or ten ladies here in the same way; but I never caught a glimpse of the face of any one of them. They pay, or their friends pay for them, a good round sum to master for the accommodation; and that is the manner in which he has made so much money; for you can see that his regular practice is not very great. But you must not tell any body that I have been talking to you in this style, John; or else I shall lose my place.'—I promised her not to betray her.—'How old are you, John?' she asked.—'Going on for fourteen,' I said.—'You are a pretty boy,' she continued. 'Would you like to give me a kiss?'—'You would think me very rude,' I answered.—'No, I shouldn't: try.'—'But I should feel so ashamed,' I said.—'Then you are a fool, John,' exclaimed the pretty housemaid; and she got into a pet, which lasted all the rest of the evening.

"I lay awake a long time that night thinking of what I had heard concerning the lady in the private apartments; and, I can't say how it was—but I felt an extraordinary longing to catch a glimpse of her. The more I reflected on this wish, the stronger it grew: and at last I determined to gratify it somehow or another. Having come to this resolution I fell asleep. Next morning the twopenny postman at eight o'clock brought a letter directed to my master; but in the corner were two or three initials which I could not quite make out. I took it into the parlour, where the doctor was seated alone at the time; and, when he had glanced at the address, he said, 'Oh! it is to go up stairs: give it to the housekeeper:'—and he went on reading his newspaper. Here was an opportunity which presented itself almost as soon as my desire to see the tenant of the spare-rooms had been formed; and, without any hesitation, I hurried upstairs. I knocked at the door of the parlour communicating with the bed-chamber; and a sweet voice said, 'Come in.' I accordingly entered the room and beheld a beautiful creature of about seventeen or eighteen, dressed in a morning wrapper, all open at the bosom, and reclining in an arm-chair. She uttered an exclamation of surprise when she saw me, and drew the wrapper completely over her breast. It was evident that she had expected to see either the housekeeper or my mistress. I handed her the note, stammered out something about 'Master having told me to bring it up,' and then retired, awkward and embarrassed enough. A few minutes afterwards the bell of the spare-rooms was rung rather violently; and the housekeeper went up. She shortly came down again, and went into the parlour, to which I was presently summoned. The doctor and his wife were seated at the breakfast-table, looking as gloomy and solemn as possible, and the housekeeper was standing in the middle of the room. I suspected that a storm was brewing. 'John,' said the doctor, 'what induced you to take such a liberty as to enter the apartments of a lady who is lodging in my house?'—'Please, sir,' I answered, as boldly as possible, 'you told me to take up the letter; and I did so.'—The doctor, his wife, and the housekeeper looked at each other by turns; and then they all three looked very hard at me. 'Well,' said the doctor, 'I suppose it _was_ a misunderstanding on the boy's part;'—for I did not blush nor seem at all confused while they were all staring at me.—'But you must not tell any one that you saw the lady up stairs, John,' exclaimed my mistress.—'I don't know a soul who would care about knowing such a simple thing, ma'am,' I replied, pretending to be very innocent indeed. I was then told to withdraw; and thus passed off this little affair.

"Throughout that day I saw the pretty housemaid showing great anxiety to speak to me alone; but circumstances so occurred, that we had not an opportunity of exchanging a word in private together. At half-past nine I went to bed as usual, an hour before the other servants; and I soon fell asleep. But I was awoke by some one shaking me gently; and I was also startled by seeing a light in the room. In another moment my fears subsided; for my visitor was the pretty servant-girl in her night-gear. She sate down on the edge of the bed, and asked me what I was called into the parlour for in the morning. I told her all that had occurred. 'You are a dear boy,' she said 'not to have confessed that I had put you up to any thing; for that was what I was afraid of:'—and she gave me two or three hearty kisses. Then she asked me a great number of questions about the lady I had seen—what she was like—how old—the colour of her hair and eyes—and all sorts of queries of that kind. I replied as well as I could; and she seemed vastly to enjoy the idea of my cool impudence in taking up the letter just for the sake of getting a peep at the lady. In fact she was so much pleased with me, that she kept on kissing me; and all this ended just as you might suppose—for the pretty housemaid shared my bed during the remainder of the night. This occurrence was most unfortunate to us both; for we over-slept ourselves,—and the housekeeper, doubtless having vainly searched for us down stairs, came up to look after us. We were discovered fast asleep in each other's arms; and a terrible scene ensued. The housekeeper alarmed the doctor and his wife with her cries—for I suppose the old lady was quite scandalised, though she herself had often chucked me under the chin in a tender manner. The result was that the pretty housemaid was packed off without delay; and I was stripped of my livery, compelled to put on my workhouse clothes again, and sent back to the parish officers.

"At the very moment when I was conveyed into the presence of the overseers by the doctor, a middle-aged lady, magnificently dressed, was returning to her carriage which waited at the door. She immediately recognised the doctor as an acquaintance, and he addressed her by the name of Mrs. Beaumont. The exchange of a few remarks led the lady to observe that she had applied to the parish officers for a well-conducted, genteel-looking lad to take the place of a page in her household; and, as she spoke, she eyed me very attentively. The doctor informed her that I had been in his service and was a good boy in all respects save one:—and he explained to her the indiscretion which had compelled him to part with me; adding, 'The lad was no doubt won over by the young woman herself; but as my professional success depends on the reputation of my house, I could not overlook this occurrence.'—The lady declared that she entertained great compassion for me, and said what a pity it was that such a nice boy should be thrown back on the parish. In a word, the business ended by her agreeing to take me on trial; and, before the doctor left me, he whispered in my ear, 'You see, John, that I have not ruined your character as I might have done; and therefore you must be a good lad, and never mention to any one that you saw the lady who is now lodging at my house.'—He then took his departure; and Mrs. Beaumont, having arranged with the overseers relative to receiving me into her service, desired that I might be sent to her abode in the evening. The instructions were obeyed; and I entered my new place, the first appearances of which pleased me much.

"Mrs. Beaumont was a widow-lady of about six-and-forty, and was still a very handsome woman considering her age. Her house was in Russell Square; and she lived in an elgant style—keeping a butler, a footman, and three female domestics. She had a Miss Stacey residing with her as a companion; and this lady was about five or six-and-twenty—somewhat stout—and rather good-looking. The moment I entered my new place, I was supplied with a page's livery, and was informed that I was to consider myself at the orders of the butler. I soon found that I had got into very comfortable quarters; for the best of provisions were consumed in the kitchen as well as in the parlour, and the butler, who was fond of a glass of good liquor himself, often treated me to some likewise. Mrs. Beaumont saw a great deal of company; and there were dinner-parties or evening-parties at least three or four times every week. I had not been many days in this place, before I began to notice that both Mrs. Beaumont and Miss Stacey treated me with much the same kind of innocent familiarity which the housekeeper at the doctor's had shown towards me. They would pat me on the cheek, or chuck me under the chin, and tell me I was nice boy: but this they never did before each other—only when I happened to be alone with either one of them. Indeed, when they _were_ together, and I entered the room to answer the bell or for any other purpose connected with my duties, they would both appear as indifferent towards me as if they had never shown any other feeling in my behalf. Of the two I liked Miss Stacey much the best, because she was younger; and I felt a strange excitement come over me whenever she began to toy about with me in the way I have described. One day, when I entered the drawing room, where I found her alone at the time, she said to me, 'John, you are a very nice boy; and here is half-a-guinea for you to buy what you like. Only don't let any one know that I gave you the money.'—'Certainly not, Miss,' I replied.—'And now, John,' she continued, 'I want you to answer me a question which I am going to put to you. Will you tell me the truth?'—I of course declared that I would.—'Then tell me,' she said, patting my face, and looking full at me with her large blue eyes, 'does Mrs. Beaumont ever play about with you as I do?'—'Oh! never, Miss,' I answered immediately, and without undergoing the least change of countenance.—'You are a good boy, John,' she said; and pulling me towards her, covered me with kisses. A double-knock at the front-door interrupted her amusement, which, as you may suppose, I took in very good part; and she hurried me out of the room, enjoining me not to tell any one that she played about with me.

"The next day Mrs. Beaumont was rather indisposed, and kept her own chamber until the evening, when she descended to the drawing-room. Miss Stacey had gone out to a party at a married sister's; and, the footman being absent likewise, it devolved upon me to take up the tea-tray. 'Well, John,' said my mistress, 'are you comfortable in your present place?'—'Quite, thank you, ma'am,' I replied.—'You like it better than the doctor's?' she continued, smoothing down my hair, and then passing her hand over my face.—'Oh! a great deal ma'am.'—'But do you not miss the pretty servant-girl, John?' she asked, with a sly look and a half smile. 'Why, what a naughty boy you must be, and at such an age too!'—'It was all the young woman's fault, ma'am,' I said; 'and I hope you do not think any the worse of me for it.'—'If I had I should not have taken you into my service, John,' she answered. 'And to show you that I am really attached to you and consider you to be a very good boy, here's a sovereign for you. It is not on account of your wages, mind; but a little gift. You must not however tell any body that I gave it to you, or else you will make the other servants jealous.'—'I'll be sure not to tell, ma'am,' I said: 'and I thank you very much.'—'And now, John,' continued Mrs. Beaumont, 'I have one question to put to you, and you must tell me the truth. Does Miss Stacey ever speak kindly to you? I mean, does she ever do any thing to show you that she likes you better than the other servants?'—'No, ma'am,' I replied. 'On the contrary, I fancy she sometimes speaks sharp to me.'—'Oh! indeed,' said Mrs. Beaumont; and she then subjected me to the same kissing process that I had undergone on the part of Miss Stacey—only I did not like it quite so well. The old lady hugged me very tight, and seemed as if she wanted to say something, but did not exactly like to do so. At last she spoke out plainly enough, though in a whispering tone. 'John,' she said, 'I just now gave you a sovereign, because you are a good boy; and I will give you another if you will do what I ask you and not tell any one about it. Should you like to have another sovereign?'—'Very much indeed, ma'am,' I answered.—'Well, then,' continued Mrs. Beaumont, 'you must come to my room to-night, when the house is all quiet; because I want to speak to you very particularly indeed.'—'But I promised the servants, ma'am, to sit up to let Miss Stacey in,' I answered.—'So much the better,' observed Mrs. Beaumont. 'Miss Stacey has promised to be back by twelve at latest; and as soon as you have let her in, you can go up to your own room, and then a few minutes afterwards come down to mine.'—I promised to do exactly as I was desired; and, having received a few more kisses and pawings about, was suffered to return to the kitchen.

"The footman came back at eleven; and as Mrs. Beaumont had already retired to her chamber, all the servants except myself went off to theirs. I then remained alone in the kitchen, thinking of what had occurred between my mistress and myself, and not half liking the idea of sleeping with her—for I knew very well what her object was in asking me to go to her room. I wished it had been Miss Stacey who had made such an appointment with me; for, young as I was, I was greatly smitten with that lady; and I thought she had never looked so well as when I saw her that evening dressed for the party to which she had gone. She had on a very low gown, and her neck was so beautifully white, and her naked arms seemed so plump, that I was really quite in love with her. It gave me great pleasure to think that I had been chosen to sit up for her, and I longed for her return. The clock struck twelve; and a few minutes afterwards a vehicle stopped at the door. I knew it must be Miss Stacey who had come back; and I did not wait for the knock and ring, but hurried to the hall to admit her. She seemed pleased when she saw who it was that opened the door for her; and I observed that her countenance was rather flushed, as if she had been drinking an extra glass of champagne, of which I knew she was very fond. The moment I had closed and bolted the door, she asked me in a low whisper, whether any of the other servants were up. I answered in the negative.—'Does your mistress know that you are sitting up for me?' she next inquired.—'No, Miss,' I unhesitatingly said.—She began to caress me, and I found that she smelt rather strong of wine; but she looked so nice that I did not care about that; and I was so excited that I kissed her in return.—'Light me up stairs, John,' she at length said; 'and let us go as gently as possible, so as not to make any noise, on account of Mrs. Beaumont, who is unwell.'—I led the way up stairs, my heart beating violently; for I more than half suspected that I should not keep my appointment with my mistress that night. Nor was I mistaken: for, on reaching the door of Miss Stacey's chamber, she took my hand, drew me towards her, and said in a low, hurried whisper, 'Come down to my room in about a quarter of an hour: I wish to speak to you very particularly indeed.'—I promised to do so, and hurried up to my own chamber, Miss Stacey having previously lighted her candle and said, 'Good night, John,' in a tolerably loud voice, but making a sign to convince me that it was only a precaution on her part. When I reached my room, I sate down on the bed to think how I should act. My inclination prompted me to keep the appointment with Miss Stacey: my fears urged me to keep the one given me by Mrs. Beaumont. I cared nothing about the sovereign promised me by my mistress, now that I had received such an invitation from her pretty companion; and I thought that it would be very easy to excuse myself to Mrs. Beaumont, should she question me next day, by saying that I fancied her to be only joking, or perhaps trying me. So, at last, I resolved to follow my inclinations, and disregard my fears; and I acted in pursuance of this determination. I accordingly repaired to Miss Stacey's room, and was completely happy.

"We had been an hour together, when a knock at the door alarmed us. Who could it be? what could it mean? We remained silent as the dead. The knock was repeated, and was immediately followed by Mrs. Beaumont's voice, saying, 'Miss Stacey, dear! Miss Stacey!'—'Good God! what can she want?' whispered Miss Stacey to me; 'she is perhaps unwell, and will come into the room to speak to me. John, my dear boy, you must get under the bed, and keep as quiet as a mouse.'—This was done in a moment, and Miss Stacey bundled my clothes under the bed after me. She then opened the door, and, sure enough, my mistress entered the room, saying, 'I am sorry to disturb you, my dear; but I am so unwell I cannot sleep. I have got such nervous feelings that I am really afraid to be alone.'—'Had I not better call up one of the servants and send for the doctor, my dear madam?' asked Miss Stacey, her voice trembling; I could well conjecture why.—'No, thank you, dear,' answered the lady; 'if you have no objection, I will pass the remainder of the night with you.'—'Oh! with pleasure, ma'am,' exclaimed Miss Stacey. 'I will accompany you to your room directly.'—'We may as well remain here,' replied Mrs. Beaumont; and it struck me that there was something strange in the way that she spoke. Miss Stacey urged that it was very injurious for persons in delicate health to change their beds; but Mrs. Beaumont declared it to be a mere prejudice. Miss Stacey invented some other frivolous excuse, and I suppose that this confirmed Mrs. Beaumont's suspicions; for she immediately exclaimed, 'Really, one would suppose that you wished to get rid of me, Miss Stacey!'—'To speak candidly, my dear madam,' was the reply, 'I can't bear sleeping with another person.'—'Indeed!' said Mrs. Beaumont. 'Hey day! what shoes have we here? Why, surely these cannot be your's, my dear?'—I have noticed that the more spiteful ladies are together, the more they '_dear_' each other.—'It must be some oversight on the part of one of the servants,' said Miss Stacey, in a faint tone.—'It's very strange!' cried Mrs. Beaumont; and I heard her stoop down and take up the unfortunate shoes. Oh! how I did shiver and tremble! and how sincerely I wished both the amorous ladies at the devil at that moment! But matters grew speedily much worse; for, in stooping down to pick up the shoes, Mrs. Beaumont had spied my trowsers; and these she fished up in another moment. Miss Stacey shrieked; Mrs. Beaumont raised the drapery hanging round the bed to the floor—and, behold! by the light of the candle which had been left burning in the room, she discovered unfortunate me!

"I cannot tell you what a scene ensued. Mrs. Beaumont raved like a mad-woman, and Miss Stacey protested her innocence. The house was alarmed—the other servants came down to the door—and Mrs. Beaumont's reproaches and upbraidings, levelled against Miss Stacey and myself, made every thing known to them. I scarcely know how I had pluck enough to play the part which I did play; but it is, notwithstanding, a fact that I was resolved to screen Miss Stacey, and throw all the scandal on Mrs. Beaumont. I accordingly begged to be allowed to explain; and when I could obtain a hearing, I swore that Mrs. Beaumont had given me a sovereign, and promised me another to sleep with her—that I had mistaken the room—and that the moment I had seen Miss Stacey enter and perceived my error, I had managed to creep under the bed, unnoticed by her. Mrs. Beaumont went into strong hysterics at this accusation, and was conveyed away to her own apartment by the female servants, while I hurried off to my own room. You may suppose that I scarcely slept a wink all the remainder of the night. I knew that I had lost both my place and my character—but I felt satisfied in having done all I could to screen poor Miss Stacey, though it did not strike me at the time that my version of the business could not possibly be taken as a very probable story. Next morning the butler came up to me very early, and in a long, humbugging speech, assured me that, out of good feeling towards me, Mrs. Beaumont had consented to keep me in her service, and look over the affair, if I would confess the truth. I however persisted in my original statement, and displayed the sovereign that Mrs. Beaumont had given me. The butler went away, telling me not to leave my room until he came back. Half an hour passed before he returned, and again he tried to argue me into his views; but I was obstinate, and the interview ended by his desiring me to pack up my things and leave the house directly. This I very willingly agreed to, and in a few minutes my preparations were complete. 'Where are you going to, youngster?' asked the butler, when he had paid me the amount of wages due.—'I don't know,' was my reply.—'Well,' he said, 'I should advise you to take a room at the family washerwoman's. She has got one to let, I know; and if you hold your tongue about what has occurred in this house, I will try and get you another place.' I readily gave the required promise, and also followed the advice relative to the lodging, in which I was installed in another half hour.

"In the evening the butler came to me, and gave me the addresses of several families in whose service pages were wanted. 'You will have to apply to the butlers at those houses,' he said, 'and therefore you can refer them to me. I will endeavour to make it all right for you, as I should be sorry to see a promising young lad ruined for want of a character.' I thanked him very much, pretending to see nothing but pure friendship in his conduct, although I was quite enough experienced in the ways of the world to understand that Mrs. Beaumont herself had instigated this lenient treatment as a means of sealing my lips. I ventured to ask him about Miss Stacey, and he at once told me that she had left the house at a very early hour in the morning. I longed to enquire if he knew where she was gone, but dared not. On the following day I called at the various addresses which the butler had given me, and was not considered suitable at any. At one I was thought too young—at another too old: here I was too short—there I was too tall. In fact, the objections were trivial, but fatal. I was returning to my lodging along Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, when I saw in a shop window a notice that a livery boy was wanted, and that applications were to be made within. I entered the shop, and received the address of a house in the same street. There I went, and was shown into a small parlour, where I was kept waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour. At last a gentleman and lady—an elderly couple—entered the room, and I was immediately subjected to no end of questions, all of which I answered in the most satisfactory manner, because I did not hesitate to say 'Yes' when an affirmation was required, and 'No' when a negative was necessary. At last the gentleman said to the lady, 'Well, my love, what do _you_ think?'—'What do _you_ think, my dear?' asked the lady.—'I think, my dear——' began the gentleman.—'So do I, Mr. Turner,' exclaimed the lady, without waiting to hear what her husband _did_ think. It however appeared that they perfectly well understood each other; for the lady, turning towards me, said, 'We will give you a trial if the butler at your last place speaks as well of you as you assure us he will. But you will have to be very active here, for I must tell you that this is a boarding-house——'.—'A boarding-house of the highest respectability,' interrupted the gentleman, looking very solemn indeed, as if he was afraid that I was going to say I didn't believe him.—'And there are many ladies and gentlemen to wait upon,' continued Mrs. Turner: 'but we shall see.' I then withdrew. Mr. Turner went about my character in the evening, and found every thing satisfactory; and next day I entered my new place, wondering what adventures would befal me here.

"This boarding-house proved to be the hardest place I ever was in. I had to get up at five in the morning to clean six pairs of boots and ten pairs of ladies' shoes. If they did not shine well, I was blown up on all sides; and if I did make them shine well, Mrs. Turner blew me up for wasting the blacking. Then I had to bees-wax heaven knows how many chairs and tables, and to clean the windows from top to bottom at least twice a-week. In the middle of my work I was constantly interrupted by knocks at the door, or errands to run upon. Then at meal-times something was always wanting—something had always been forgotten. The cleaning of knives and plated forks and spoons would have alone been a good four hours' work for a strong man. If I did them properly and devoted time to them, I was scolded for being slow and lazy: and if I knocked them off in a hurry, they were sure to be found fault with. Sometimes the bells of half a dozen rooms would ring in the morning, when the boarders were getting up, all at the same instant; and if I was long in taking up any particular gentleman's hot water to shave, or any lady's shoes, I was certain to hear of it when Mrs. Turner came down into the kitchen. In fact, it was a hard life, and an unthankful office; for when I did my best, I could not give satisfaction; and yet the cook and housemaid—the only servants kept besides myself—were candid enough to declare that I was the best lad that had ever been in the house during their time.

"There was one elderly lady—a Miss Marigold—who seemed to have taken a particular hatred for me; and only because when, one day, she began to caress me in the same way that Mrs. Beaumont and Miss Stacey had done, I laughed in her face and told her to keep her wrinkled old hands to herself. From that minute she grew desperately malignant against me, and was always finding fault. I determined to have my revenge, and waited patiently for the opportunity. That occasion came at last. One evening Miss Marigold retired earlier to bed than usual; and Mrs. Turner rang for me in the parlour. I went up and found my mistress alone. 'John,' she said, 'go directly with this box,'—pointing to a round paste-board one on the table—'to the hair-dresser's, and tell him that you will call for it at eight precisely to-morrow morning. Then, in the morning, when you come back with it, send it up by the housemaid to Miss Marigold's room.'—I took the box, which was tied round with string, and was particularly light. It immediately struck me that it must be Miss Marigold's wig: for I was convinced she wore one. Accordingly, as I went along the street, I stepped up an alley; and by the light coming from the window of a house, unfastened the strings to peep inside. Sure enough, it was Miss Marigold's wig. It immediately struck me that her going to bed earlier than usual was only an excuse to be able to send her wig in time for the hair-dresser to do it up that night; and this circumstance, joined to the fact that she wanted it the very next morning, convinced me that Miss Marigold had but one wig belonging to her. I therefore resolved that some accident should occur to the wig before it went back to her; but in the meantime I took it to the hair-dresser. He seemed to understand what it was; for without opening the box, the strings of which I had carefully re-fastened, he promised me that I should have _the article_ when I came back in the morning, shortly before eight.

"I must now inform you that there was an elderly gentleman at the boarding-house, whose name was Prosser. Captain Prosser he was called; and a jovial kind of old bird he was too. He was amazingly fond of breaking out now and then, staying away all night, and coming home between six and seven in the morning, so precious drunk that he could not see a hole through a ladder. But he was always sensible enough to know that he must not make a noise; and when I let him in on these occasions, he would put his fore-finger by the side of his nose in such a comical fashion, as much as to say, 'Don't let any body know it!' that I could scarcely keep from laughing. Well, on this very night, when the affair of the wig occurred, the Captain went out for a spree; and it happened that he came home rather later than usual the next morning. I had just returned with the wig-box, and had it still in my hand, when the Captain's low sneaking knock at the door summoned me to open it. He came in worse than I had ever seen him before: he could scarcely keep upon his legs, and his head rolled about on his shoulders just as if he had no bones in his neck at all. His hat, too, was smashed completely in; and his coat was slit completely up the back to the very collar. Such a comical figure I never saw in my life. He staggered into the hall, seeming quite to forget where he was, or what he wanted there. A thought struck me, and I resolved to put it into execution. He was so uncommonly drunk, and yet so quiet and tractable, that I saw I could do with him just as I liked: so I led him into the parlour where the long table was laid for breakfast; but no one had come down yet. I seated him on the sofa in such a way that he could not fall off, and in a few moment he was in a sound sleep. I removed his hat, took the wig from the box and fixed it all awry upon his head, purposely tumbling all the curls, so as to make it appear as if he had thus adorned himself with his own hand. I then stole away from the room; and, having suffered about ten minutes to elapse, so as to bring the time nearer to breakfast before the exposure should take place, I went into the kitchen to tell the housemaid that there was a box in the parlour which she must presently take up to Miss Marigold. But she, not knowing what the box might contain, waited a few minutes more to finish something that she was about; and I did not choose to hurry her. At last Miss Marigold's bell rang; and I laughed in my sleeve to think that the poor lady would vainly wait for her wig. The housemaid hastened to answer the summons, and I followed her as far as the parlour, under pretence of taking up some plates for the breakfast-table. But just before we reached that room, seven or eight of the boarders, ladies and gentlemen alike, came pouring down stairs to breakfast; and the moment they entered the parlour, such screams of amazement burst from the women, and such roars of laughter from the men. The housemaid hurried into the room, and I behind her; and almost immediately afterwards in came Mr. and Mrs. Turner, and all the rest of the boarders, except poor Miss Marigold!

"And what a sight burst upon their view! The screams and the roars of laughter had awoke Captain Prosser; and he was sitting, propping himself up, in the corner of the sofa, and looking stupidly about him, as if quite unconscious of where he was, and certainly ignorant of the reason which drew all eyes upon him. Such a comical spectacle as he was, with the wig perched all crooked upon his head! At length the ladies began to give vent to their indignant feelings. 'Shameful!' said one.—'Well, I never!' cried another.—'And _this_ in a respectable boarding-house!' exclaimed a third.—'It all comes of having such a monster as the Captain in the place!' observed a fourth.—'But whose wig is it?' cried one of the gentlemen, a humorous fellow in his way; and, approaching the leather box, he took it up. 'MISS MARIGOLD!' at length he exclaimed, his eyes catching some writing in the inside.—Mrs. Turner, who had suspected the ownership of the wig, declared that she should go into hysterics; but her husband begged her not to do any thing of the kind; and so she followed his advice. Of course no suspicion fell upon me. When questioned, I said that I had brought home the box without knowing its contents; that I had put it on the sofa; and that before I had gone down stairs to tell the housemaid to take it up to Miss Marigold, I had opened the front door to let in the Captain. The thing was therefore clear:—the Captain had come in, in a state for which he ought to be ashamed of himself; and nothing would please him but he must decorate himself with poor Miss Marigold's wig! Such was the explanation agreed upon by all present; and while two or three of the gentlemen conveyed the Captain up to his own room, the wig having been previously removed from his head, Mrs. Turner went up to break the fatal news to Miss Marigold. To make an end of this part of my story, I need only say, that Miss Marigold left the house on the sly the moment her wig was done up again by the hair-dresser; and Mrs. Turner easily persuaded the ladies to forgive the Captain, on condition that he would stand a dozen of wine—which he did.

"Several months passed away after this incident without any adventure worth relating. It was a most unpleasant place; but there was amusement in it; and moreover there was a certain love-affair in progress, in which I felt interested, and the end of which I was determined to wait and see. Not that I was an actor in it at all; but only a go-between. The fact was, that amongst the boarders there was a widow-lady, of about seven or eight and twenty—a very pretty woman, whose name was Percy. There was also a young gentleman of very effeminate appearance, but possessing a handsome—or rather a beautiful countenance, and a very slight figure. He was also short—a complete doll of a man; for he was within four years as old as the widow. His name was Hulse. This couple fell in love with each other: or rather, I think, the love was all on the side of the young gentleman, who possessed some little property and better prospects, whereas the widow was notorious as a husband-hunter ever since she had been in the boarding-house, and was moreover very poor. She was however sweetly pretty; and she had such wicked eyes that it gave me strange sensations to meet her looks. It was in this way that I came to know of the love-matter existing between Mr. Hulse and Mrs. Percy. About the time when the adventure of the wig took place, Mr. Hulse one evening asked me to give a letter privately to the widow-lady; and he slipped half-a-crown into my hands. You may have already seen that I possessed no small degree of curiosity, and I longed to know what that letter could possibly contain. I took it up into my own room with me, and tried to catch a glimpse at the writing inside; but it was so carefully folded that I could not. At last, to my joy, I perceived that the wax was stamped with a seal which was invariably left lying in the ink-stand drawer in the parlour, for the general use of the boarders. I therefore hesitated no longer to open the letter, breaking the wax as carefully as possible. The letter was a declaration of love, the writer stating that he had not courage to make the avowal in words; and he implored a written answer, observing that the lad John was to be trusted, as he seemed a quiet steady youth. I was much amused by the letter, and early next morning I re-sealed it by means of the stamp in the ink-stand drawer: then, watching the opportunity when Mrs. Percy descended to breakfast, I gave it to her as she was coming down stairs. In the evening she put into my hands an answer, accompanied by a shilling for myself; and as she smiled significantly, and showed her pretty white teeth, I felt that I could do any thing to obtain a kiss from that sweet mouth. Fortunately this letter was also fastened with the house-seal, and I was therefore able to read its contents. It thanked Mr. Hulse for the favourable opinion he had entertained of her, and stated that she felt she could love him, but that she required a more explicit avowal of his intentions. This letter I re-sealed and gave to the young gentleman. A reply was ready in the evening; and another half-crown was slipped into my hand. This letter I likewise read, and found that Mr. Hulse professed the most honourable intentions, but begged that their engagement (should the correspondence have that result) might be kept a secret, as he had an uncle (from whom he had considerable expectations) to consult, but who was at present abroad and would not be in England again for several months. The lady's answer, which also passed through my hands, was quite satisfactory; and in the course of a few days I saw that the tender pair exchanged significant looks when they thought themselves unperceived, and that Mr. Hulse was gradually losing much of his bashfulness. Nevertheless frequent notes passed between them, and several presents were made to the lady by the young gentleman, all of which went through my hands and were duly inspected by me. It may seem strange that two people living in the same house should require the aid of a go-between; but such was the fact—for I believe Mr. Hulse to have been one of the very sentimental and romantic class of lovers who are fond of mystery and of tender correspondence.

"This absurd courtship went on for several months; and the lovers little suspected that I was as well acquainted with its progress as themselves. At length I perceived by one of Mr. Hulse's letters that his uncle was expected home in a few days, and he spoke of the necessity which would compel him to go on a visit to the old gentleman, but also expressed his hopes that the result would be according to the wishes of the lady and himself. And in less than a week he did depart on the proposed visit, having previously exchanged most tender and affectionate letters with the widow. The very next morning a new boarder arrived—a gentleman who in every respect was quite different from Mr. Hulse. He was tall, largely-made, and wore a great deal of hair about his face. Without being handsome, he was a very fine man; and he talked away at a rapid rate, getting on good terms with all the other boarders by the time breakfast was over, and very intimate indeed before the cloth was removed after dinner. He sate next to the widow, to whom he paid great attention; and she appeared very well satisfied with his civilities. In fact, in one single day he made more progress in thrusting himself into the good graces of Mrs. Percy than Mr. Hulse had done in a week. The name which the gentleman bore at the house was Jameson; but I did not believe it to be his right one, because his hat had the initials of F. S. in it; the same letters were marked, as I heard from the housemaid, on all his linen; and they were also described by means of brass nails on the lid of his trunk. However, a few days passed; and I saw that Mr. Jameson and Mrs. Percy were becoming more and more intimate. They sate together at meals—they lounged together on the sofa in the drawing-room—and, as I watched them narrowly, I saw that they exchanged glances which convinced me that Mr. Hulse had been forgotten by the faithless lady. Somehow or another I took an immediate hatred to Mr. Jameson, the moment he set foot in the house; and this feeling was increased by his harsh and commanding ways towards me. I was moreover sorry for Mr. Hulse, who had been kind and generous in his behaviour to me; and I longed to do Jameson some evil turn. The opportunity arrived sooner than I expected; for one morning—about a fortnight after he had arrived at the establishment—I was accosted in the street, when going on an errand, by an ill-looking fellow who was loitering about, and who said he wanted to speak to me particularly. I asked him his business; but he would not exactly explain it. He however said he was very anxious to learn some tidings of a certain gentleman, and that he had received a hint of the person alluded to being at a boarding-house in Great Russell Street, under a feigned name. It instantly struck me that the gentleman thus enquired about was Jameson; and I was moreover convinced, by the appearance of the enquirer, that he had no good intentions towards the individual whom he was seeking. I therefore readily gave such information as convinced the man that Mr. Jameson was the person he was looking for; and I then learnt, to my astonishment, that this Mr. Jameson's real name was Frederick Shawe! I now showed myself so much interested in the affair, and expressed myself in so hostile a way relative to Mr. Frederick Shawe, that the man at last admitted to me that he was a sheriffs'-officer's follower, and had a writ against the man who, I was convinced by all I now heard, was the same that had treated my deceased parents in so scandalous a manner. We did not part before we came to an understanding together; and I returned to the boarding-house, overjoyed to think that the moment of vengeance was not very far distant.

"The dinner-hour was five o'clock; and on the day of which I am speaking, there was company present besides the boarders. Mr. Jameson, as usual, sate next to Mrs. Percy; and his attentions were of the most amiable description. Had Mr. Hulse returned at the moment, he would not have been very well pleased at the way in which she received them. But a storm was brewing over the head of the successful rival; and I was longing for it to burst. Towards the close of the meal Jameson asked me for a glass of porter. I pretended not to hear him, and waited on some one else. He called me again; and when I at length drew near his chair to serve him, he said in a harsh voice, 'You're very neglectful, John; and I wonder how Mrs. Turner can keep such a stupid boy in the house.'—'Then why don't you ask her to discharge me, _Mr. Shawe_?' I said.—You should have seen how he turned—first as white as a sheet, and then as red as scarlet.—'_Mr. Jameson_ you mean, John,' exclaimed Mr. Turner. 'Call gentlemen by their proper names, and don't be rude, sir, or you shall leave the house directly.'—'I did call _this gentleman_ by his proper name, sir,' I answered: 'and that name is _Shawe_.'—'The poor boy is labouring under a mistake,' said Shawe, dreadfully confused and stammering as he spoke; 'but don't be harsh with him: he did not intend any harm.'—'I do not want _you_ to speak in favour of me, sir,' I exclaimed; 'and perhaps you'll guess why, when you know that my name is _Jeffreys_.'—The villain's countenance now showed the most awful dismay; and the scene produced great excitement amongst all present. But at that moment, a knock at the front-door was heard; and I ran to answer it, well knowing who were there. How my heart beat with joy when I admitted the officer and his follower (the man I had seen in the morning) into the house; and, without caring how my master and mistress might take it on my part, I threw open the dining-room door, led the officers in, and, pointing to the person they wanted, said, '_This_ is Mr Frederick Shawe!' The officers instantly arrested him; and a scene of extraordinary confusion followed. Mrs. Turner fainted in right earnest, and while several of the ladies flocked round her, others began tittering and whispering, and Mr. Turner requested Mr. Shawe to pay his bill before he went to prison. But the conduct of Mrs. Percy was the most extraordinary part of the whole performance. It is, however, most probable that she acted in the way she did to conceal her vexation and annoyance. For, bursting out into a loud laugh, and casting a look of contempt at the man with whom she was on such good terms a few minutes before, she expressed her surprise that '_fellows of his stamp_ should dare to force their way into _genteel society_!'—To be brief, Mr. Turner could not get the amount of his claim on Shawe, whose trunks he accordingly detained; and the scoundrel was conveyed away by the officers. I followed the party to the street-door, and took good care to let Shawe know that it was I who had betrayed him. The exposure of this person caused such a sensation in the house, that my share in it created a feeling of curiosity; and, when questioned by Mr. Turner before all the company, I explained how he had treated my parents, so that I was rather praised than blamed for what I had done. But Mrs. Percy applauded me the most, and spoke warmly in my favour—at which I was very much pleased.

"Two or three days after this occurrence, Mr. Hulse returned—but only for a few hours; and during that time he was alone with Mrs. Percy in the parlour. The nature of their interview was soon known throughout the house; for it appeared that the news he had brought from his uncle were favourable, and their engagement was now no longer kept secret. It was fortunate for the widow that he did not remain in the boarding-house until their marriage; for, if he had, some kind friend would have been sure to tell him of the flirtation that had gone on between herself and the scoundrel Shawe. As it was, every thing turned out well: Mr. Hulse took and furnished a nice house in Bloomsbury-square, and in a few weeks he and Mrs. Percy were married. My former services were not forgotten by either; but, on the contrary, were rewarded on the wedding-day by a guinea from the gentleman and half that sum from the lady. I had thus seen the end of this very extraordinary courtship, and being thoroughly tired of my place, began to look out for another. I accordingly made the usual enquiries, and heard of several vacancies. My very first application was successful, and I was engaged by the Honourable Mr. Ilverton, Mr. Turner giving me a good character and expressing no dissatisfaction at my desire '_to better myself_.'

"The Honourable Mr. Ilverton resided in St. James's Square. He was a gentleman of about forty years of age, and was on the point of marriage with a lady much younger than himself, and who was one of the numerous daughters of the Marquis of Mountcharlton. But as Mr. Ilverton was very rich, and the Marquis was but a poor peer, the match was considered a very desirable one by the friends of Lady Hortensia Stanhope. I heard my fellow-servants in my new place say that she was a very beautiful creature; and I longed to see her; but six weeks were yet to elapse before the celebration of the marriage. The place was a very nice one; and the establishment was on a large scale. There were six female servants, and four men, besides the butler and coachman. Two of the footmen were constantly on duty in the hall, that is, they had nothing to do for the four hours that their turn lasted, but to look out of the hall-windows, and attend the front-door. When their four hours expired, the other two took their place for a like interval. There was a great deal of aristocratic feeling amongst these servants. The butler had _his_ room, and the housekeeper had _her_ room; and they took their meals apart from the rest. The other servants were obliged to say '_Sir_' to the butler, and '_Ma'am_' to the housekeeper. The cook and the two housemaids were likewise above the kitchen-maids, who said '_Miss_' when addressing either one of them. The footmen also considered themselves above the coachman; but they allowed the latter to take his meals at their table. As for myself, I was looked upon as a mere child by the men; and probably by the women too—for they were very much addicted to fondling me when I happened to be alone with either one of them.

"Well, the six weeks passed away; and the day came on which Mr. Ilverton was to be married. The ceremony was performed at St. George's, Hanover Square; and the 'happy couple,' as the newspapers always call new-married people, started off for Mr. Ilverton's country-seat. A fortnight elapsed; and then came the day when the town-mansion was to receive its new mistress, whom I had not yet seen. I remember the profound curiosity which I felt on that occasion, my fellow-servants, who had frequently beheld her, having spoken so high of her beauty. It was about six o'clock in the evening when they were expected to arrive, dinner having been provided for seven. I stationed myself in the hall to obtain as early a view as possible of Lady Hortensia Ilverton; and shortly after six the carriage drove up to the door. From the hall-window I saw her ladyship alight; but she had a veil over her face. I was, however, enabled to admire the beauty of her figure, which was very finely proportioned; and I thought, as she stepped from the vehicle, that I had never before seen such a charming foot and ankle. The loveliness of her form rendered me the more anxious to behold her face; and this curiosity on my part was soon gratified. For, on entering the hall, the lady threw back her veil;—but no words can explain the full extent of my astonishment, when I beheld the very same charming creature of whom I had once before caught a hasty glimpse at the doctor's house in Brook Street! A faint exclamation of surprise escaped my lips; no one however heard it—and I instantly mastered my feelings. Lady Hortensia passed through the hall, leaning on her husband's arm, without looking either to the right or to the left;—and as she did not therefore observe me, I had no opportunity of knowing whether she would remember me or not.

"It was a part of my duty to help to wait at table; and I longed for the dinner-hour to arrive, to clear up that point. At length my doubts were set at rest;—dinner was served up—the lady saw me; and I felt convinced that she had completely forgotten my face. I was not however quite a year older than when I saw her at the doctor's, and therefore not much changed: nevertheless, she evidently did _not_ know me again. I really felt relieved on her account; for she was such a beautiful creature, and seemed so amiable, that I should have been sorry for her to have experienced any annoyance or vexation on my account. During the whole of dinner, I took my station near her chair, and watched her attentively; and though she conversed pleasantly enough with her husband when he started a subject, or addressed himself to her, yet it struck me that she was not altogether happy—for she seldom commenced a topic of her own accord, but seemed rather to love silence; and I now and then fancied that she sighed in a subdued manner. I don't know when I ever felt a deeper interest in any one than I did in this lady; and it seemed to me as if I could do any thing to serve her. But I am afraid that I am tiring you with this long story;"—and Jeffreys abruptly broke off.

"Not at all, old fellow," exclaimed Tim the Snammer. "It's only just struck twelve by St. George's; and we don't mean to separate yet awhile."

"No—not quite yet, I should hope," observed Josh Pedler. "Besides I'm getting deucedly interested in that Lady Hortensia of your's. I all along expected that the beautiful young creature at the doctor's would turn up again somehow or another."

"To be sure," said Old Death: "it wouldn't be a regular romance if she didn't."

"It's all as true as gospel!" cried Jeffreys. "Do you think I could invent such a pack of curious adventures? If you don't believe what I've told you already, I'm sure you won't believe what there is to come; and so I'd better hold my tongue."

"Now don't be angry, my dear boy," said Old Death: "I was but joking. I like your story amazingly: so pray finish it. We're in no hurry, and there's plenty of drink."

Jeffreys accordingly complied with the solicitations of his comrades, and proceeded uninterruptedly to the end of his narrative.