Puslapio vaizdai

in ‘Horace,' particular in the gesture number, little while after he sent to inforın the Russian two. At the moment of the imprecations his that the bust was finished. The husband development of number three was beautiful : hastened to the atelier ; he shook his head : and, as to number one, we applauded him in " That is not my wife, who is young and beauit several times during the evening. He was tiful. You bave taken the lady that sat beside so satisfied with himself in it, that he repeated her, a middle-aged friend of hers." it several times on purpose.”. The next day Talking of sculpture, the group that has been Talma himself visited the stinging critic, and so much criticized before the new opera-house, made his peace with him. Maurice, of course, and on which some one threw a bottle of ink, was often obliged to fight, and his wife kept an bas been cleaned by a chemist, and all the ink alphabetical list in a book of his duels, to refer has disappeared. to when asked whether he had measured his A wit states that M. Ségur d’Aguesseau says sword with this or that person. He was also in one of his speeches that his "hair stood up one of the last in Paris to wear a pigtail.

at an end on his head only to make people beDantan, the sculptor, was taken away very lieve that he still had some hair on his head. suddenly a few days ago. He leaves a name and another affirms that, when a gentleman told honoured amongst artists. His Wellington, a would-be young baroness that there was a Vestris, Count d'Orsay, Lord Brougham, and grey hair in her head, she exclaimed that it was Adelaide Kemble are well known. He pos- impossible: it must be in her false chignon ! sessed a most extraordinary memory in his Madame G. Sand's pretty tale, art, and could make the bust of a person from Fadette," has been reset to music, and is to be once seeing him. A Russian gentleman, of a represented at the Opera Comic. certain age, very much desired to have the bust The female dressmakers are about dethroning of his wife. The lady refused to sit for it. the male ones. The last new creations in feDantan was told by the husband that his wife male attire, worn by two actresses noted for went every day, at such an hour, in the omnibus, their great taste, made by women. to see her sister. Dantan undertook to satisfy Short dresses are to reign during this winter, the husband's wishes, so took his place in the they say on all occasions. Au revoir, omnibus opposite the lady, went home, and a

S. A.

“La petite




“ Arrived at the Hotel Waldoborough, ac- , address, and we were clattering away towards cordingly, I stepped out of the coupé, and the Rue des Vieux Augustins, when I rememhelped out the ladies and the lap-dog, and was bered, with a sinking of the heart I trust you going in with them, as a matter of course. But may never experience, that I had not six francs the Spider said, 'Do not give yourself ze pain, in the world--at least in this part of the worldMonsieur ! and relieved me of King Francis. thanks to my Todworth cousin; that I had, in And Madam said, “Shall I order the driver to fact, only fifteen paltry sous in my pocket! be paid ? or will you retain the coupé ? You “ Here was a scrape! I had ridden in Madam will want it to take you home. Well, good day,' Waldoborough's carriage with a vengeance ! offering me two fingers to shake. I am very Six francs to pay! and how was I ever to pay happy to bave met you ; and I hope I shall see it? Cocher! cocher! I cried out, despairyou at my next reception. Thursday eve- ingly, 'attendez ! ning, remember; I receive Thursday evenings. «« * Qu'est-il ?' says the cocher, stopping Cocher, vous emporterez ce monsieur chez lui, promptly, comprennez?'

Struck with the appalling thought that every Bien, Madame!' says the cocher.

additional rod se travelled involved an increase “ • Bon jour, Monsieur' says Arachne, gayly, of expense, my first impulse was to jump out tripping up the stairs with the king in her arms. and dismiss him. But then came the more

"I was stunned. For a minute I did not frightful nightmare fancy, that it was not possiknow very well what I was about; indeed, I ble to dismiss him unless I could pay him! I should bave done very differently if I had had must keep him with me until I could devise my wits about me. I stepped back into the some means of raising the six francs, which an coupé, weary, disheartened, hungry; my dinner. hour later would be eight francs, and an hour hour was past long ago; it was now approach- later ten france, and so forth. Every moment ing Madau’s dinner-hour, and I was sent away that I delayed payment swelled the debt, like a fasting. What was worse, the coupé was leit ruinous rate of interest, and diminished the for me to pay for. It was three hours since it possibility of ever being able to pay him at all. had been ordered; price, two francs an hour; And of course I could not keep him with me total, six francs. I had given the driver my for ever-go about the world henceforth in a hired coach, with a driver and span of horses man will remain waiting for you at the door impossible to get rid of.

until you have traversed half Paris. That will ««Que veut, Monsieur?' says the driver, be a capital point to the joke, a splendid finale looking over at me with his red face, and waiting for your little comedy ! for my orders.

"I confess to you that, perplexed and des“That recalled me from my hideous reverie. perate as I was, I felt for an instant tempted to I knew I might as well be travelling as standing accept this infamous suggestion. Not that I still, since he was to be paid by the hour; so I would willingly have wronged the coachman; said, ' Drive on, drive faster!'

but since there was no hope of doing him “I had one hope-that on reaching my lodg- justice, why not do the best thing for myself? ings I might prevail upon the concierge to pay If I could not save my honour, I might at least for the coach. I stepped out with alacrity, save my person. And I own that the picture of said gayly to my coachman, 'Combien est-ce him which presented itself to my mind, waiting que je vous dois ?' and put my hand in among at the door so complacently, so stolidly, intent my fisteen sous with an air of confidence. only on sticking by me at the rate of two francs

"The driver looked at his watch, and said, an hour until paid of, without feeling a shadow with business-like exactness, ' Six francs vingt- of sympathy for my distress, but secretly laughcinq centimes, Monsieur.' Vingt-cinq centimes ! ing at it, doubtless-that provoked me; and I My debt had increased 25 cents. whilst I had was pleased to think of him waiting there still, been thinking about it! Avec quelquechose after I should have escaped, until at last his pour la boisson,' he added with a persuasive beaming red face would suddenly grow purple smile. With a trifle besides for drink-money; with wrath, and his placidity change to consterfor that every French driver expects.

nation, on discovering that he had been out“Then I appeared to discover, to my surprise, witted. But I knew too well what he would do. that I had not the change; so I cried out to the He would report me to the police! Worse than old woman in the porter's lodge, Give this man that, he would report me to Madam Waldosix francs for me, will you?' • Six francs ! borough! echoed the ogress, with astonishment: 'Monsieur, “Already I fancied him, with his whip under je n'ai pas le sou!'

his arm, smilingly taking off his hat, and ex"I might have known it; of course she tending his hand to the amazed and indignant wouldn't have a sou for a poor devil like me; lady, with a polite request that she would pay but the reply fell upon my heart like a death- for that coupé! What coupé? And he would sentence.

tell his story, and the Goddess would be thun“I then proposed to call at the driver's derstruck; and the eyes of the Spider would stand and pay him in a day or two, if he would sparkle wickedly; and I should be damned for. trust me. He smiled and shook his head. ever!

“Very well,' said I, stepping back into the “ Then I could see the Parisian detectives coach, 'drive to number five, Cité Odiot. I (the best in the world) going to take down from had an acquaintance there, of whom I thought the lady's lips a minute description of the adI might possibly borrow. The coachman drove venturer, the swindler, who had imposed upon away cheerfully, seeming to be perfectly well them, and attempted to cheat a poor hack-driver satisfied with the situation; he was having em- out of his hard-earned wages ! ployment; his pay was going on, and he could "No,' said I; “'tis impossible! If you can't hold me in pledge for the money. We reached help me to the money, I must try—but where, the Cité Odiot: I ran in at number five, and how can I hope to raise eight francs (for it is up stairs to my friend's room. It was locked; four hours by this time, to say nothing of the he was away from home.

drink-money!)-how can I ever hope to raise “ I had but one other acquaintance in Paris that sum in Paris?' on whom I could venture to call for a loan of a "You can pawn your watch,' says my false few francs; and he lived far away, across the friend, rubbing his hands, and smiling, as if he Seine, in the Rue Racine. There seemed to be really enjoyed the comicality of the thirg. no alernative; 80 away we posied, carrying my “But I had already eaten my watch, as the ever-increasing debt, dragging at each remove a French say: it had been a week at the Mont de lengthening chain. We reached the Rue Racine; Piété. I found my friend; I wrung his hand. For “ • Your coat then,' says my counsellor, with Heaven's sake,' said I,“help me to get rid of good-mannered unconcern. this Old Man of the Sea-this elephant won in

“And go in my shirt-sleeves ?' for I had a raffle!' “I explained. He laughed. What a funny of my landlord, as scurity for the payment of

placed my trunk and its contents in the charge adventure! says

he. And how curious that at this time, of all others, I haven't ten sous in

board and room-rent.

my the world! But I'll tell you what I can do,'

". In that case, I don't see what you will do,

unless you take my original advice, and dodge "'For mercy's sake, what ?'

the fellow.' «•I can get you out of the building by a “I left my fair-weather acquaintance in disprivate passage, take you through into the Rue gust, and went off, literally staggering under de la Harpe, and let you escape. Your coach. I the load, the ever-increasing load, the Pelion

says he.

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upon Ossa, of francs, francs, francs-despair, francs! I laugh now at the image of myself, despair, despair!

as I must have appeared then, pouring forth " Eh bien?' says the driver, interrogatively, torrents of broken aud hardly intelligible as I went out to him.

French, questioning, cursing, imploring, and “. Pas de chance!' And I ordered him to receiving the invarible, the inexorable reply, drive back to the Cité Odiot.

always polite, but always firm, 'On ne passe “. Bien !' says he, polite as ever, cheery as

pas, Monsieur.' ever; and away we went again, back across the Absolutely no admittance! The train Seine, up the Champs Elysées, into the Rue de started, and I was ruined forever! l'Oratoire, to the Cité, my stomach faint, my "I went back to my hackman. His serenity head aching, my thoughts whirling, and the had vanished as mine had arrived. carriage wheels rattling, clattering, chattering • Who will pay me? he demanded, fiercely. all the way, 'Two francs an hour, and drink- “My friend,' said I, it is impossible. And money! Two francs an hour, and drink-money!' I repeated my proposition to call and settle

“Once more I tried my luck at number five, with him in a day or two. and was filled with exasperation and dismay to And you will not pay me now?' he vocifefind that my friend had been home, and gone rated. off again in great haste, with a portmanteau in “My friend, I cannot.' his hand.

“Then I know what I shall do ;' l' turning “Where had be gone? Nobody knew; but away in a rage. he had given his key to the house-servant, say- «I have done what I could, now you shall ing he would be absent several days.

try what you can,'I answered, mildly. “ . Pensez-vous qu'il est allé à Londres?' I “ Turning once more upon me, he said, 'I hurriedly inquired.

go to Madam. I demand my pay of her. What “Monsieur, je n'en sais rien,' was the calm, do you say to that?' decisive response.

• A few minutes before I should have been "I knew he often went to London; and now my overwhelmed by the suggestion-I was not only hope was to catch him at one of the railway pleased with it now. I ought to have had the stations. But by which route would be be likely courage to say to Mrs. Waldoborough, when to go? I thought of only one-that by way of she had the coolness to send me off with the Calais, by which I had come, and I ordered my coupé, instead of my dinner, “Excuse me, coachman to drive with all speed to the Great Madam, I have not the money to pay this Northern Railway Station. He looked a little man! glum at this, and his ‘Bien !' sounded a good “ It would have been bitter, that confession ; deal like the 'bang' of the coach-door, as he but better one pill at the beginning of a malady shut it rather sharply in my face.

than a whole boxful afterwards. I had, through “ Again we were off, my head hotter than my folly, placed myself in an embarrassing and ever, my feet like ice, and the coach-wheel say- ludicrous position, and I mnst take the conseing vivaciously, as before, Two francs an hour, quences. and drink-money! Two francs an hour, and "Very well,' said I, that is the best thing drink-money! I was terribly afraid we should you can do; but say to madam that I expect be too late; but on arriving at the station, I my uncle by the next steamer, and that you not found there was no train at all. One had left only refused to wait till his arrival, but also put in the afternoon, and another would leave late in me to a great deal of trouble. You fellows should the evening. Then I remembered there were be more accommodating.' other routes to London, by the way of Dieppe True ! true!' says the driver, 'but I must and Hayre. My friend might have gone by one have my pay all the same. I shall tell Madam of those! Yes, there was a train at about that what you say.' time, my driver somewhat sullenly informed “He was going; and now happened one of me-for he was fast losing his cheerfulness: those wonderful things which occur in real life, perhaps it was his supper-time, or perhaps he but which, in novels, we pronounce improbable. was in a hurry for his drink-money. Did he Whilst we were speaking a train arrived, and I know where the stations were ? Know, of noticed a withered old man coming out of the course he did! There was but one terminus building. I looked at him earnestly, because for both routes; that was in the Rue St. La- he, although old and withered, yet seemed

Could he reach it before the train start- happy, whilst I, so young and fresh, yet so ed. Possibly; but his horses were jaded. miserable ; and I was wondering at his selfWhy didn't I tell him before that I wished to satisfaction, when I saw-what think you?stop there?

something fall to the ground, out of one of the We reached the Lazarus-street Station; the pockets of the coat he was carrying on his arm. train was about starting; but, owing to the It was – will you believe it ?-a pocketbook, a strict regulations which are enforced on French | well-filled pocketbook—the pocketbook of a railways, I could not even force myself into the millionaire, by Jove! I pounced upon it like passenger-room, much less get through the an eagle upon a rabbit. He was passing on, gate. Nobody could enter there without a when I ran after him, politely called his attenticket. My friend was going, and I could not tion, and surprised him by returning that which rush in and catch him, and borrow my-ten dhe supposed was safe in his coat-pocket.


"* Is it possible!' said he, in very poor | sidered for a moment, and the scene in the Rue French, which betrayed bim to be a foreigner St. Lazare flashed across my mind. I rememlike myself. “You are very kind, very honest, bered him well, very obliging-very obliging indeed!'

“Madam released Louise from her arms, and • If thanks and smiles would answer my greeted the yellow-complexioved one. Then purpose I had them in profusioa. He looked she was introduced to my uncle. Then the at the pocketbook, and, feeling satisfied it had bride id, 'You know my cousia erbert, I not been opened, again and again thanked me. believe?' He seemed very anxious to do the polite thing, Ah, yes !' says Waldoborough, “I recog. yet still more anxious to be passing on; but I nize him now !? giving me a smile and two would not allow him-I held him with my glit- fingers. “You have been to one or two of my tering eye.

receptions, have you not?' “Ah!' said be, 'perhaps you won't feel "' I have not yet had that pleasure,' said I. yourself insulted by the offer' (he saw that I "Ah, I remember now! You called one was well-dressed, and probably hesitated to re- morning, did n't you? And we went someward me on that account), and, putting his where together—where did we go!-or was it hand in his pocket, he took it out again, with some other gentleman ?' the palm covered with glittering gold pieces. “I said I thought it must have been some

Sir,' said I, 'I am ashamed to accept any other gentleman; for indeed I could hardly bething for so trifling a service; but I owe this lieve now that I was that fool. man-how much is it now?'

"• Very likely,' said she; for I see so many* Ten francs and a-hall,' said the driver, my receptions, you know Louis, are always so whom I had stopped just in time.

crowded! But, dear me, what am I thinking “. Ten francs and a-hall,' I repeated.

of? Where are you, my love?' and the steaner “Mais n'oubliez pas la boisson' he added, brought the skiff alongside. his persuasive smile returning.

Louis, and gentleman,' then said my lady, " With something for his dram, I con- with a magnificent courtesy, the very wind of tinued : 'which, if you will have the kindness which I feared would blow him away-but he to pay him, and at the same time give me your advanced triumphantly, bowing and smiling exaddress, I will see that the money is returned travagantly–allow me the happiness of preto you without fail in a day or two.'

senting to you Mr. Joha Waldoborough, my He paid the money, with a smile, saying it husband.' was of no consequence, and neglecting to give How I rafrained from shrieking and throrme bis address. And he went his way well ing myself on the floor, I never well knew ; for satisfied; and the driver went bis, also well sa- I declare to you, I was never so caught by surtisfied; and I went mine, infinitely better satis- prise and tickled through and through by any fied than either of them.

denouement of situation on or off the stage ! To “Well, I had got rid of Madarn Waldo- think that pigmy, that wart, that ltttle grimaborough's carriage, and learned a lesson which cing monkey of a man, parchment-faced, antique I think will last me the rest of my life. But I -a mere money-bag on two sticks-should be must haste and tell you the dénouement of the the husband of the great and glorious Madam affair.

Waldoborough! His wondrous self-satisfac“I was not so anxious to cultivate Madam's tion was accounted for. Moreover, I saw that acquaintance after riding in her carriage, you Heaven's justice was done : Madam's husband may well believe. For months I did not see had paid for Madam's carriage !" her. At last my Todworth cousin and her Here Herbert concluded his story. And it yellow-complexioned husband came to town, was tiune; for the day had closed, as we walked and I went, with my uncle, to their hotel. They up and down, and the sudden November night were delighted to see me. A card was brought bad come on. Gas-light had replaced the light in. My cousin smiled, and directed that thc of the sun throughout the streets of the city. visitor should be admitted. There was a rustle The brilliant cressets of the Place de la Con-a volume of flounces came sweeping in, and corde flamed like a constellation; and the a well-remembered voice cried, “My dear Avenue des Champs Elysées, with its rows of Louise ! and my Todworth cousin was clasped lamps, and the throngs of carriages, each bearin the embrace of Madame Waldoborough. ing now its lighted lantern, inoving along that

But what did I behold? Following in Ma- far extended slope, looked like a new Milky dam's wake, a withered old man, whose coun- Way, fenced with lustrous stars, and swarming tenance was strangely familiar to me. I con- / with meteoric fire-flies.


HABDWICK'S MANUAL: for Patrons and subscription was paid to the canons of the Members of Friendly Societies.-(Manchester : cathedral, who, in consideration there of, perJohn Heywood, 141, 143, Dean-street; Lon- formed the necessary rites for the “Souls' Scot.” don : Simpkin, Marshall Co).-The importance The rules of several associations, which date of friendly societies in these days, both from back to the Norman Conquest, are preserved, the numbers enrolled under their various deno- and Mr. Ansell remarks that they were estabminations, the grand sum total of their accumu- lished for the express promotion of religion, lated wealth, and their effect upon the habits, charity or trade. From these fraternities the characters, and condition of the working men various companies and city corporations in the of Great Britain, can scarcely be overrated. kingdom are derived. One is sometimes temp

Hence the condensed information in the ted to think that ideas lie in the human brain small volume before us (which has already like the germs of plants in the ground, to gerreached a second edition), is replete with in- minate from time to time as circumstances terest, not only for the political economist and bring them to the surface. Mr. Hardwick utilitarian, but for the philanthropist and observes, that, by none of the associations rethoughtful readers generally. Mr. Hardwick ferred to, was the article of feasting and conbrings to his task the authority of many years viviality ignored; the self-inflicted fines of the practical knowledge of his subject-knowledge members formed a separate fund in aid of the derived while holding the highest office in expenses of an annual entertainment, of which coonection with one of the most popular and the general public had a share, as they generally powerful of these societies, “the Manchester ended with an interlude or pageant. It is inUnity of Independent Oddfellows.” He has teresting to know that in 1696 Defoe published a evidently gone to the fond of the matter, and is work (“Essay on Projects.") advocating a plan at pains, while urging the excellence of such for the formation of societies “formed by institutions, to open the eyes of less far-seing mutual assurance for the relief of members and pains-taking members, to the weak points in seasons of distress.” By way of experiment, in the rules, and management of some of these he proposes to establish one for the support of associations on which the workman bases his destitute widows. “The same thought,” he hope of help in the hour of sickness and adver- adds, might be improved into methods that sity. The chapter entitled, “The General should prevent the general misery and poverty History of Friendly Societies,” is exceedingly of mankind, and at once secure us against interesting; in it the writer shows that such beggars, parish-poor, alms-houses, and hospico-operative endeavours to guard against the tals, by which not a creature so miserable or so exigencies of accident or poverty, are by no poor but should claim subsistence as their due, means modern. Theophrastus, the pupil of and not ask it of charity.” From this Mr. Aristotle, alludes to associations among the Hardwick infers that not only were no such Athenians, and the citizens of other Greek states, societies then in existence, “but that the “having a common chest, into which a certain author of the immortal · Robinson Crusoe ' monthly contribution, paid by each individual was the first to suggest their formation." He was deposited, so that a fund be raised for the’ is careful to show, that, however Englishmen relief of such members of the society as should pride themselves on the Anglo-Saxon love of in any manner have experienced adverse fortune.” freedom, that the labouring classes of that A species of association or college, much re- period had no share of it; that two thirds of sembling the modern burial club,” existed ihe population were slaves, and that the real amongst the Romans, and the laws of the society, emancipation of the working people may be said inscribed on marble, remain to testify the fact only to have commenced towards the end of the in our times,

last century.

As late as 1768, an act passed, The ancient guilds of the Anglo-Saxons, which compelled all London tailors to work were, according to Sharon Turner, friendly from six in the morning to seven in the evenassociations “made for mutual aid and contri- ing, with the interval of an hour only for rebution to meet the pecuniary exigences which freshment. “The said act likewise decreed were perpetually arising from burials, legal ex. that the wages of the free English fabricator of actions, penal mulets, and other payments or clothing should not exceed two shillings and compensations.” Dr. Hicks has printed se- seven pence per day, except at a period of geneveral documents belonging to these guilds. ral mourning, when, for the space of one month, “A Gilde-scipe” Exeter shews that "its ob- he was permitted to demand the sum of five jects," observes our author, were not unlike shillings and three half-pence! For paying or those of the modern friendly societies, although receiving other than the sums specified, the ofrelief during sickness does not appear to have fender was subjected to two months' imprisonengaged their attention.” Each family or ment, and hard labour !" But we must not hearth” covenanted to subscribe one penny on linger over this interesting general history," the death of a member, male or female. This or we shall bave no space for other portions of

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