THE FIRE-KING FLUE.

Frank Heartwell seizing Brady as the murderer of his Father.

The question was like an electric shock to the stranger—he started, his countenance became contorted, and in the wild rolling of his eye, Frank was instantly reminded of the period at which he had first seen it when a child in the lawyer's room at Lincoln's Inn. He sprang from his chair, and grasping the man by the collar, exclaimed, "You—you are my father's murderer!" Brady drew a pistol, and presented it at Frank's head—the lieutenant knocked up the muzzle, and the ball flew harmlessly to the ceiling. At this moment two men rushed in to the lawyer's rescue, butnot till Frank had wrenched the pistol from his hand, and struck him a severe blow with the butt—the next instant the candles were extinguished, and Heartwell lost consciousness through the stunning effects of a hit on the back of his head, and resigned his grasp; he quickly, however, regained it, and a desperate struggle ensued. At this moment the gardener returned from the manor-house—he had seen a light waggon standing on the common under the care of a boy, and on entering the gate, had been nearly knocked down by a tall stout man, who mounted a horse that was in waiting, and galloped off. Hurrying into the cottage, his timely succour turned the fate of the encounter—the two scoundrels were overmatched; one contrived to steal away, Frank still grasped the other, and having managed to get hold of his dirk that lay upon a sofa, the fellow was wounded past resistance and sank upon the floor. Lights were brought; the lieutenant gazed earnestly on the face of his prisoner—it was not Brady, but Shipkins; for the lawyer, though desperately hurt, had taken advantage of Frank's momentary weakness to throw down the candles and effect his escape, and the lieutenant had unknowingly seized the clerk in his stead.

Great were the consternation and alarm of Mrs. Heartwell on her return from the metropolis, to which she had been deluded by a pretended message got up by the vile confederates. The gardener too was similarly deceived; for the scoundrels, unaware that the treasure had been removed, had hoped to find the cottage destitute of protection, so that they might easily carry off the booty they expected to find. Frank's presence had disconcerted Brady, who invented a plausible excuse, but villany met with detection and punishment, as already described.

When calmness was somewhat restored, it was proposed to send Shipkins to prison in the waggon which had brought him out on his nefarious excursion; but the man was evidently dying, and Mrs. Heartwell conjectured that by detaining him at the cottage, and treating him with kindness, he might be induced to make admissions and confessions which would tend to elucidate the past. At first, however, he was stubborn and morose, and refused the assistance that was proffered him—he was not aware that his last hour was so near at hand, but when assured by a surgeon that he had not long to live, and he was earnestly exhorted to unburthen his mind of guilty concealment before entering the presence of his Maker, the hitherto hardened sinner was subdued—the near approach of death, and the terrors of a future state, wrought powerfully on his conscience, and these increased as his physical energies decayed.

None can tell the agonised suspense of Mrs. Heartwell and the agitation of her son as that period seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer which, they expected, would disclose the fate of a husband and a father. Frank, though much hurt, would not quit his mother, and both occasionally visited the room of the dying man. Remorse at length prevailed, and willing to atone as far as practicable for his misdeeds, he requested that a magistrate might be sent for to take his deposition. Mr. Wendover, acting in that capacity, promptly attended, and to him he revealed acts of enormity and crime in which he and Brady had for years been engaged, particularly the circumstances connected with the victim of their diabolical practices—Lieutenant Heartwell.

I.Whoburnt theHouse of Lords?Who, sir, who?An answer brokeThrough fire and smoke,"Iburnt it down,And it wasn't in joke!With a horrible flare-upI caused it to glare up,Idoneit 'quite brown'To astonish the town!Yes,Iburnt it down!"You, you! Who are you?"Why, I am the Fire-King Flue!"II.WhoburntSt. Stephen's Chapel?Ay, who, sir, who?In thunder the same,Through fume and flame,The answer came,"Iburnt the chapel,And panted to grappleWith Abbey andHall;'Twere easy to doAs roasting an apple,Or smashing a stall—For I am the Fire-King Flue!"III.Whofired theRoyal Exchange?Yes, who, sir, who?The reply as beforeCame in ravage and roar—"Ifired the 'ChangeWith a bad kitchen range!Should I do it once moreWhen 'tis rear'd up anew,You must not think it strange,Since I'm fire-proof too;Yes, I am the Fire-King Flue!"IV.Whotried to fire theBank?Ah! who, sir, who?"Why,Itried the Bank,Though it wouldn't quite do;And the City may thankThe fire-brigadeWith their hose and tank;Or the blazeImadeWould have fired that too—Yes, I, the great Fire-King Flue!"V.Oho! is it so?Then we pretty well know,Who set fire to theTower.We do, we do!In evil hour,King Flue, 'twasyou!With your red-hot pipeFor mischief ripe—With your fiery breathBringing ruin and death—With your cast-iron face,You set fire to the place—Oh! pest of our race,Grim, ghastly, Fire-King Flue!VI.WhoburntWoolwich Dockyard, eh?Who, who, who?"I—King Flue!A bit of a flare, you'll say;Yes, thanks to the drum and gong,And the engines thundering along,And sappers and miners,All regular shiners,Marines and artillery,And convicts that flock'dAs if freed from the pillory;Or between me and youThe Dockyard had been dock'd,As sure as my name's King Flue!"VII.Who'llset the Thames on fire?"Iwill," says Flue;"'Tis the thing I should like to do!Only give me the TunnelTo use for a funnelOf thrice-heated air,And you'll see such a flare!Or the Monument—that would do;In fact I should much prefer it;'Twould make such a capitalflue;Or when the tide turningFound out it was burning,'Twould do for a poker to stir it."VIII.To save our notes and gold,And our trophies now too few;To save our buildings oldAnd to save our buildings new;Tell us, Braidwood, what shall we do?Spirits Aquatic, help us through,For we're in the clutch of fierce King Flue!This prayer at least put up,Good people, before you sup:"God bless the Queen, and her loving Prince,And the Royal Infantstwo;And castle and palacePreserve from the maliceOf this terrible Fire-King Flue!"P.S.—May we ask who threwThat shell in theHorse Guards,With one in the barrack-yardsTo blow up theGallerytoo?"Ha ha! Ho ho!" roars Flue,"With that I had nothing to do;So mind number one,For foul deeds may be done,Without coming through a foul flue!"

Whoburnt theHouse of Lords?Who, sir, who?An answer brokeThrough fire and smoke,"Iburnt it down,And it wasn't in joke!With a horrible flare-upI caused it to glare up,Idoneit 'quite brown'To astonish the town!Yes,Iburnt it down!"You, you! Who are you?"Why, I am the Fire-King Flue!"

Whoburnt theHouse of Lords?

Who, sir, who?

An answer broke

Through fire and smoke,

"Iburnt it down,

And it wasn't in joke!

With a horrible flare-up

I caused it to glare up,

Idoneit 'quite brown'

To astonish the town!

Yes,Iburnt it down!"

You, you! Who are you?

"Why, I am the Fire-King Flue!"

II.

WhoburntSt. Stephen's Chapel?Ay, who, sir, who?In thunder the same,Through fume and flame,The answer came,"Iburnt the chapel,And panted to grappleWith Abbey andHall;'Twere easy to doAs roasting an apple,Or smashing a stall—For I am the Fire-King Flue!"

WhoburntSt. Stephen's Chapel?

Ay, who, sir, who?

In thunder the same,

Through fume and flame,

The answer came,

"Iburnt the chapel,

And panted to grapple

With Abbey andHall;

'Twere easy to do

As roasting an apple,

Or smashing a stall—

For I am the Fire-King Flue!"

III.

Whofired theRoyal Exchange?Yes, who, sir, who?The reply as beforeCame in ravage and roar—"Ifired the 'ChangeWith a bad kitchen range!Should I do it once moreWhen 'tis rear'd up anew,You must not think it strange,Since I'm fire-proof too;Yes, I am the Fire-King Flue!"

Whofired theRoyal Exchange?

Yes, who, sir, who?

The reply as before

Came in ravage and roar—

"Ifired the 'Change

With a bad kitchen range!

Should I do it once more

When 'tis rear'd up anew,

You must not think it strange,

Since I'm fire-proof too;

Yes, I am the Fire-King Flue!"

IV.

Whotried to fire theBank?Ah! who, sir, who?"Why,Itried the Bank,Though it wouldn't quite do;And the City may thankThe fire-brigadeWith their hose and tank;Or the blazeImadeWould have fired that too—Yes, I, the great Fire-King Flue!"

Whotried to fire theBank?

Ah! who, sir, who?

"Why,Itried the Bank,

Though it wouldn't quite do;

And the City may thank

The fire-brigade

With their hose and tank;

Or the blazeImade

Would have fired that too—

Yes, I, the great Fire-King Flue!"

Oho! is it so?Then we pretty well know,Who set fire to theTower.We do, we do!In evil hour,King Flue, 'twasyou!With your red-hot pipeFor mischief ripe—With your fiery breathBringing ruin and death—With your cast-iron face,You set fire to the place—Oh! pest of our race,Grim, ghastly, Fire-King Flue!

Oho! is it so?

Then we pretty well know,

Who set fire to theTower.

We do, we do!

In evil hour,

King Flue, 'twasyou!

With your red-hot pipe

For mischief ripe—

With your fiery breath

Bringing ruin and death—

With your cast-iron face,

You set fire to the place—

Oh! pest of our race,

Grim, ghastly, Fire-King Flue!

VI.

WhoburntWoolwich Dockyard, eh?Who, who, who?"I—King Flue!A bit of a flare, you'll say;Yes, thanks to the drum and gong,And the engines thundering along,And sappers and miners,All regular shiners,Marines and artillery,And convicts that flock'dAs if freed from the pillory;Or between me and youThe Dockyard had been dock'd,As sure as my name's King Flue!"

WhoburntWoolwich Dockyard, eh?

Who, who, who?

"I—King Flue!

A bit of a flare, you'll say;

Yes, thanks to the drum and gong,

And the engines thundering along,

And sappers and miners,

All regular shiners,

Marines and artillery,

And convicts that flock'd

As if freed from the pillory;

Or between me and you

The Dockyard had been dock'd,

As sure as my name's King Flue!"

VII.

Who'llset the Thames on fire?"Iwill," says Flue;"'Tis the thing I should like to do!Only give me the TunnelTo use for a funnelOf thrice-heated air,And you'll see such a flare!Or the Monument—that would do;In fact I should much prefer it;'Twould make such a capitalflue;Or when the tide turningFound out it was burning,'Twould do for a poker to stir it."

Who'llset the Thames on fire?

"Iwill," says Flue;

"'Tis the thing I should like to do!

Only give me the Tunnel

To use for a funnel

Of thrice-heated air,

And you'll see such a flare!

Or the Monument—that would do;

In fact I should much prefer it;

'Twould make such a capitalflue;

Or when the tide turning

Found out it was burning,

'Twould do for a poker to stir it."

VIII.

To save our notes and gold,And our trophies now too few;To save our buildings oldAnd to save our buildings new;Tell us, Braidwood, what shall we do?Spirits Aquatic, help us through,For we're in the clutch of fierce King Flue!This prayer at least put up,Good people, before you sup:"God bless the Queen, and her loving Prince,And the Royal Infantstwo;And castle and palacePreserve from the maliceOf this terrible Fire-King Flue!"

To save our notes and gold,

And our trophies now too few;

To save our buildings old

And to save our buildings new;

Tell us, Braidwood, what shall we do?

Spirits Aquatic, help us through,

For we're in the clutch of fierce King Flue!

This prayer at least put up,

Good people, before you sup:

"God bless the Queen, and her loving Prince,

And the Royal Infantstwo;

And castle and palace

Preserve from the malice

Of this terrible Fire-King Flue!"

P.S.—May we ask who threwThat shell in theHorse Guards,With one in the barrack-yardsTo blow up theGallerytoo?"Ha ha! Ho ho!" roars Flue,"With that I had nothing to do;So mind number one,For foul deeds may be done,Without coming through a foul flue!"

P.S.—May we ask who threw

That shell in theHorse Guards,

With one in the barrack-yards

To blow up theGallerytoo?

"Ha ha! Ho ho!" roars Flue,

"With that I had nothing to do;

So mind number one,

For foul deeds may be done,

Without coming through a foul flue!"

[Formerly, when a public building was scorched or burnt, the accident was accounted for by saying, "Oh! theplumbershave been at work"—or "It was the carpenter's glue-pot." "The flue" in these days supersedes every explanation; it is the great mystery that solves all other mysteries.]

BY JOHN COPUS.

Mr. John Leakey inherited an income of five hundred a-year, and a very neat cottage, situated on the high road about three miles from C——, in one of the finest parts of the county of Essex. Of his parentage little need be said. His father was a clergyman, his maternal parent a cook in his grandfather's establishment whom his progenitor rashly married. This fact was a constant source of misery to the sensitive John, and will fully account for the decided antipathy, manifested by him on all occasions, to that useful class of domestics in general, and especially to that particular individual who happened for the time to superintend the culinary department of Hill Cottage. Indeed his language regarding cooks was occasionally quite shocking. His maiden sister Jemima, a highly nervous female of spare and meagre proportions, frequently went into small fits caused by John's outrageous and unbecoming language or conduct, when the subject of cooks was by any chance introduced.

"If I had my way," worthy John would say with stern voice and solemn countenance, "I'd let no woman be a cook who was not fifty at least; had it not been for Jane Grubbings I might hold up my head as a gentleman. They are all of them a set of vicious, impudent, and designing hussies. I attribute half the miseries of human life to cooks."

"No doubt, John—like enough!" replies the ever calm and peaceful Jemima, anxious to agree with her brother in all things; "I've alwayssaid that nothing causes greater misery than indigestion, and badly-cooked things, you know, causeit; don't they, John?"

"Jemima, you're a jackass, so hold your tongue!" was the tender answer given to poor Jemima's remarks, on this and on every occasion.

It may be necessary to give the reader some idea of Mr. Leakey. He was a large tall man, of an unwieldy form and ogre-like gait. His countenance was broad and singularly flat; his eyes large and heavy; and as to his nose, I am quite at a loss in what category to class that nasal organ of his. At the top it was all very well, but in its descent it was like the stone gathering moss—a vires acquirit eundokind of affair; for by the time it reached its termination it was fearfully broad. It was a family nose not maternally but paternally obtained, and that was one comfort. He had it in full vigour at school, and Jemima told a story about it. "Poor John," she would say to a gossip, "certainly has a funny nose. When he was at school, a procacious boy (Jemima occasionally miscalled words) took it into his head, d'ye know, that John had pushed it on purpose into his face, and every morning regularly when he got up, he used to pull it as hard as he could to ascertain, as he said, whether that sneaking nose of Leakey'swouldcome out." A poor Irishman too who had applied for relief at Hill Cottage, and been repulsed, spoke of Leakey as a "quare gentleman anyhow! wid a face for all the world as if a crowner's quest had been on it, and the crowner being a great man, had sat on his face entirely, and the rist of them on his body, and brought in a vardict of 'Found Soft.'"

Enough, however, has been said of John's personal appearance; I only add that he wore bluchers, with trousers tightly strapped over them, cherished flannel waistcoats and comforters, was an intolerable politician because he never read anything but the ——, which was his oracle; and on the whole was a little close-fisted.

Years had flown quietly over Hill Cottage, from which, farther than occasionally to C——, neither John nor his sister Jemima had ever gone; nor indeed did they wish to go. Great, consequently, was the amazement and consternation which prevailed in their quiet little breakfast parlour, when there came from Mr. Jiggins, John's agent in town, a letter announcing said John's accession to some property, and the necessity of his appearance in the great metropolis for a few hours at the least.

"Three hundred a-year, John!" exclaimed his sister; "indeed you are a very fortunate man."

"Ay, ay! no doubt, Jemima; but what in the name of goodness gracious am I to do in London? I've not been there for thirty-five years."

"Well, love!" soothingly answered Jemima; "you can go up at seven by the Star, you know, and return again the same night. So you'd better write and tell Mr. Jiggins when you mean to go, and he can arrange matters accordingly." And John did write forthwith, appointing the hour of twelve on the following Tuesday, to meet the necessary parties at Jiggins' offices, in Tokenhouse Yard.

On Tuesday morning the whole household was in motion as early as four, the coach leaving at seven. There was such a wrapping of shawls, airing of musty camlet cloaks, and putting up of sandwiches and ginger lozenges, as never was seen before. Nay, Jemima insisted on his carryinga basket with him in which she told him had been placed theRousseauxleft at yesterday's dinner.

The arrival of the Star at Hill Cottage put an end to all these preparations, and with fear and trembling Mr. Leakey was consigned to the inside of the coach. Jemima, elevated on her pattens, and bearing a lantern, came down to the end of the little garden for the purpose of recommending her brother to the especial care of the coachman Burrell, adding by way of further inducement on his part to attend to her request, a small fib, to the effect that "indeed he had not been at all well lately."

Nimrod has so eloquently described the utter amazement of a gentleman of the old school when travelling by a modern ten-mile-an-hour coach, as to render it quite unnecessary for me to attempt any description of worthy John's surprise at the rapid progress made by the Star towards the metropolis; how he gazed in silent wonder at the splendid teams of cattle which at every stage stood ready in their glittering harness to carry him on to town; and finally, how he marvelled when in the space of four hours he was safely landed in Aldgate, having travelled thirty-eight miles in that short time: on all this it is unnecessary for me to dilate. His troubles now seemed to crowd upon him.

"Vant a cab, sir?" eagerly demands an impudent-looking fellow, rushing up, whip in hand, to where the unhappy Leakey stood utterly confounded by the bustle which surrounded him. "Gen'lm'n called me, Bill," exclaims a second in a chiding voice; "I see him a noddin' his head as he come along!" "Don't you go vith them, sir!" angrily breaks in a third; "I've got a reg'lar comfortable old jarvey, sir, cut down o' purpose for you, 'cos I know'd you vos a coming up to-day—and sich a hoss—only cab fares, sir—this vay!" And he was beginning to drag off the unresisting Leakey, when, "Come, just move orf!" exclaims the burley voice of Burrell; "I'll put you into a coach, sir, and remember I leaves this here place at hafe past three, punctooal!" So John was placed in a coach.

"Vhere's shall I drive, sir?" demands the coachman. "Oh! ah!" exclaims our hero, drawing forth a card from which he reads—"a basket,—an umbrella,—a camlet cloak,—two shawls,—a great-coat,—a comforter,—a pair of galoshes,—all right—and self?—yes, then drive to Mr. Jiggins' offices in Tokenhouse Yard, Lothbury." "Wery good, sir." And off they went.

Arrived at Mr. Jiggins's office, he found that worthy engaged, and the other parties not arrived. "Give Mr. Leakey a chair, Jemes," said Mr. Jiggins, "and here's this morning's paper, sir; splendid leader, Mr. Leakey; powerful writing. Stir the fire, Jemes, and put some more coals on—that'll do."

So Leakey was placed on a chair before the fire to amuse himself with a perusal of a paper of whose existence he was only conscious by the fearful denunciations contained occasionally in the —— against it. There sat Leakey, still enveloped in his panoply of cloth and camlet, shawl and galoshes, eyeing "the leader" which had been the subject of Jiggins's eulogium. He read on. Could his eyes have ceased to possess discriminating power? or was there living the caitiff wretch so utterly reprobateas to call his loved —— by such names? It was too true. The more he read, the more convinced was he of the utter depravity of the human heart, and especially of the horrible wickedness of the man who could coolly declare that long article in the ——, over which he, John Leakey, had only yesterday gloated, to be "twaddle." His anger was excessive; another moment and he would have cast "that pestilential rag," as he ever afterwards denominated the vituperating journal, into the fire, had not Jiggins at that moment entered, and with him the men whose presence was required for the settlement of John Leakey's affairs.

Scarcely checking his excited feelings, John suffered himself to be led to business. This being, after a time, satisfactorily finished, an adjournment took place to a neighbouring hostel; John, for once in his life, on the strength of three hundred a-year added to his former property, being generous enough to volunteer tiffin. The beefsteaks were done to a turn, the stout magnificent, the sherry first-rate. Jiggins had no particular business to call him home, so, with the two gentlemen beforenamed, thoroughly enjoyed himself at Leakey's expense, making fun occasionally of poor John, who, luckily, at all times rather obtuse, was becoming more and more muddled and confused every moment, so as not to dream, when his friends burst out into a loud laugh, that he was the subject of it. At half-past three, Jiggins accompanied our friend to Aldgate, saw him safely deposited once more in the Star, and as it was now raining heavily, and he had no further inducement to remain, wished him good-bye, and returned to Tokenhouse Yard.

The coach was full inside, and John had just satisfactorily arranged his camlet, &c., when Burrell came to the door, put his head gently in at the window, as he stood on the steps, and said, "Have you any objection, gen'lm'n, to let a young ooman ride inside? it's raining fearful, and she'll get her death, I know she will, outside."

"No, no!" gruffly responded the other three. It would have been well had John been equally opposed to five inside. As it was, however, "tiffin" had enlarged his heart, and he said, "Oh, yes, Burrell, I'll make room for her; you know, gentlemen, it would be a sad thing if she got her death through our unkindness."

The persons addressed made no reply, nor had Leakey much time to consider the prudence of his act, before the door was opened, and Burrell handed a good-looking young woman into the coach, who seeing no disposition on the part of the other three to make room for her, very quietly sat down on Mr. J. Leakey's knees, being no mean weight. This was, however, scarcely a voluntary act, for the coach moved on at the moment and forced her to assume that position. Thus for twelve miles did he sit, at times wincing rather under his somewhat uncomfortable position, and not particularly pleased with the undisguised amusement of the others.

Eventually he was liberated, for the three hard-hearted individuals left the coach at the end of twelve miles, and Leakey and the interesting female were left together. John felt that some little stimulus to his exhausted spirits might be desirable, so called for a glass of brandy-and-water; of which he drank as much as he wished for, and offered the rest to his fairvis-à-vis, who really seemed a very pleasing kind of person. She thankedhim, and saying, "Here's to your very good health, sir," smirked, and drank it off. When the coach went on again, Leakey felt wonderfully invigorated, and entered into conversation with the lady, who proved highly communicative as to the respectability of her mother, and the moral excellence of all her relations. It was a very critical moment for an old bachelor, muddled as poor John most undoubtedly was. He called to mind Jemima's spare figure and not very beautiful face, and more than once thought how much pleasanter it would be to have at the head of his table so comely and intelligent a person as seemed the interesting individual now before him.

"Infatuated a second time" (as Julia Mannering says to Bertram on his arrival from Portanferry at Woodburne, butwhyI never could discover)—"Infatuated a second time" was our hero, for a second glass of brandy-and-water was had at the next stage, and duly consumed between the lady and himself. Leakey was now thoroughly fuddled, and the lady more agreeable than ever. In short—for the afflicting, the humiliating truth will force its way—before the coach stopped to change for the last time, the frantic John Leakey had actually proposed to his unknown enslaver—nay, worse—he was her accepted!

It was not until this climax of his folly had put a temporary stop to conversation that he had time to think at all. Muddled as he was, he began to fear he had been too hasty. The fair lady was silent, as labouring under powerful emotions; and the coach having changed at C——, was not more than a mile from Hill Cottage, when she said, mildly—

"It's a very fortnit circumstance, sir, as I met with you; becos, I'm a going to a old genlm'n as lives near here—as——"

"Eh?" groaned John, "as—what, eh?"

"Oh, I was a going ascook; on'y, in course, I shan't stay with him long."

"As cook! my gracious me!" exclaimed, or rather screeched, the miserable man; "what's the gentleman's name?—tell me quick!"

"Mr. Leakey, sir!"

When Burrell opened the coach-door as soon as Hill Cottage was gained, he found the unhappy John Leakey perfectly frantic. "Coachman, Burrell, take her away! she's a cook! she's a vicious, designing, impudent thing! she's made me propose to her—me—me—the son of a cook—Oh! o-oh! o-o-oh!"

Draw we a veil over the proceedings which followed. Mr. Leakey, what with brandy and agony of mind, was put to bed perfectly raving. The cook was taken in for the night, and on being attacked by Jemima was scarcely restrained from flying at that exemplary spinster, who called her all the names she had ever heard her brother apply to women of her class. Next morning cook was dismissed, and shortly threatened an action, which Leakey was glad to compromise by the payment of one hundred pounds; making at the same time a solemn vow that he never would travel inside a coach again, or if he did, that he never would take compassion on a woman so far as to let her ride inside, though it should rain cats, dogs, and hedgehogs!

It is essential to the full effect of a parody, whatever that may be, that the original—or, in other words, the thing parodied—should be familiar to the reader. Now, several parodies which we have this month received, undoubtedly possess that advantage. We have had three or four versions of "The Sweet Little Cherub that sits up aloft," dictated by the happy event that has given a young Prince to Wales, and a glad Promise to all England; we have received half-a-dozen parodies on "Gray's Elegy," suggested by the conflagration at the Tower; and we have also been favoured with a like number of variations of the "Beggar's Petition," commemorative of the detection of the fasting philosopher, Bernard Cavanagh, in the act of purchasing a "saveloy." But although the originals are all well known, we are tempted to pass these parodies by, in favour of one upon a poem which should be well known too. We allude to Alfred Tennyson's "Mariana at the Moated Grange." Whoso knoweth it not, will wisely let what follows attract his notice to a singularly touching production; and whoso remembereth it, will read with better relish, and no irreverence to the Beautiful thus companioned by the Burlesque, our accomplished correspondent's ingenious story of

THE CLERK.

A PARODY.

With black coal-dust the walls and floorWere thickly coated one and all;On rusty hinges swung the doorThat open'd to the gloomy wall;The broken chairs looked dull and dark,Undusted was the mantel-piece,And deeply speck'd with spots of greaseWithin, the chamber of the clerk.He only said, "I'm very wearyWith living in this ditch;"He said, "I am confounded dreary,I would that I were rich."His bills came with the bells at even;His bills came ere their sound had died;He could not think why bills were given,Except to torture clerks—and sigh'd.And when the flickering rushlight's flameIn darkness deep could scarce be seen,He mutter'd forth his bottled spleen,Unheard by aught of mortal frame.He said, "My life is very drearyWith living in this ditch;"He said, "I am tarnation weary,I would that I were rich."Upon the middle of the bed,Sleeping, he dream'd of hoarded gold;Sovereigns were jingling in his head,And in his ken was wealth untold.But when he woke, no hope of change,In silver or in circumstance,Before his sorrowing eyes did dance;He thought that it was very strange—But only said, "My life is dreary,I'll go to sleep," he said;He said "I am infernal weary,I would that bill were paid."About six fathoms from the wall,A blackened chimney (much askew)Smoked in his face—and round and smallThe chimney-pots destroy his view,Hard by—a popular highway,With coal-dust turned to pitchy dark,Where many a little dog doth bark,Some black, some mottled, many grey.He only said, "My life is drearyWith living in this ditch;"He said, "I am fatigued and weary,I would that I were rich."E. P. W.

With black coal-dust the walls and floor

Were thickly coated one and all;

On rusty hinges swung the door

That open'd to the gloomy wall;

The broken chairs looked dull and dark,

Undusted was the mantel-piece,

And deeply speck'd with spots of grease

Within, the chamber of the clerk.

He only said, "I'm very weary

With living in this ditch;"

He said, "I am confounded dreary,

I would that I were rich."

His bills came with the bells at even;His bills came ere their sound had died;He could not think why bills were given,Except to torture clerks—and sigh'd.And when the flickering rushlight's flameIn darkness deep could scarce be seen,He mutter'd forth his bottled spleen,Unheard by aught of mortal frame.He said, "My life is very drearyWith living in this ditch;"He said, "I am tarnation weary,I would that I were rich."

His bills came with the bells at even;

His bills came ere their sound had died;

He could not think why bills were given,

Except to torture clerks—and sigh'd.

And when the flickering rushlight's flame

In darkness deep could scarce be seen,

He mutter'd forth his bottled spleen,

Unheard by aught of mortal frame.

He said, "My life is very dreary

With living in this ditch;"

He said, "I am tarnation weary,

I would that I were rich."

Upon the middle of the bed,Sleeping, he dream'd of hoarded gold;Sovereigns were jingling in his head,And in his ken was wealth untold.But when he woke, no hope of change,In silver or in circumstance,Before his sorrowing eyes did dance;He thought that it was very strange—But only said, "My life is dreary,I'll go to sleep," he said;He said "I am infernal weary,I would that bill were paid."

Upon the middle of the bed,

Sleeping, he dream'd of hoarded gold;

Sovereigns were jingling in his head,

And in his ken was wealth untold.

But when he woke, no hope of change,

In silver or in circumstance,

Before his sorrowing eyes did dance;

He thought that it was very strange—

But only said, "My life is dreary,

I'll go to sleep," he said;

He said "I am infernal weary,

I would that bill were paid."

About six fathoms from the wall,A blackened chimney (much askew)Smoked in his face—and round and smallThe chimney-pots destroy his view,Hard by—a popular highway,With coal-dust turned to pitchy dark,Where many a little dog doth bark,Some black, some mottled, many grey.He only said, "My life is drearyWith living in this ditch;"He said, "I am fatigued and weary,I would that I were rich."

About six fathoms from the wall,

A blackened chimney (much askew)

Smoked in his face—and round and small

The chimney-pots destroy his view,

Hard by—a popular highway,

With coal-dust turned to pitchy dark,

Where many a little dog doth bark,

Some black, some mottled, many grey.

He only said, "My life is dreary

With living in this ditch;"

He said, "I am fatigued and weary,

I would that I were rich."

E. P. W.

The intense melancholy of the solitary clerk, sighing in his ditch, brought up our scientific reporter, Charles Hookey Walker, with some lucid and valuable notes of an appropriate discourse lately delivered; we append them here, for the benefit of all the doleful clerks throughout her Majesty's dominions.

THE BRIGHTISH ASSOCIATION.—Section B.—Chemistry and Mineralogy.

President—The Rev. Hugh Wells.Vice-Presidents—Dr. Durham & Prof. Hammer.

"On the Formation and Analysis of a Direct Sigh." By Mr. F. Silly.

The author stated that thesigh-directwas that to which he had paid the greatest attention. The "sigh-direct," he explained, was entirely different from the "sigh-inverse," the one being the production of the heart, and the other of the brain; the first being the thing itself, the second merely the symbol of the thing. He found the sigh-direct to consist generally of floating ideas, in the forms of "O dear!" "Ah me!" and "Alas!" held in solution by about their own bulk of a vague composition, formed of wishes and a cloud-vapour (of that class which is used as a site for erecting castles in the air upon), but which were so mixed and intercorporated, as to be inseparable to the nicest analysation. From the analysis, he had determined that the prime motive of a sigh is a longing for more; and that the functions thus acted upon expand the animal economy to its greatest extent, for the purpose of gratifying the longing for getting as much as it can of something, which, in this case, is only air. And this led him to a concluding remark on the extreme uselessness and futility of sighing, perceiving, as he did, that it only gave extra work to the muscles, for no tangible consideration.

Mr. W. R.Fixeread a memoir on the probability of there being a constant chemical action, producing results yet unknown, in the interior of the earth, and that a current of electric fluid was constantly circulating through mineral veins; and that this circulation through the veins of living rocks was of as much importance in the formation of new productions, as the circulation of the blood in the veins of living men.

Our esteemed reporter proceeded to describe the proceedings of another Section.

Section D.—Zoology and Botany.

President—Sir Ely Phante.Vice-Presidents—Proffs. Munky and Nape.

"A New Method of Supplying Agricultural Surfaces." By S. Sappy.

The author had often remarked the tendency of thatched roofs to grow corn; and it struck him that these, at present unemployed surfaces, should be made use of to conduce to the support of the inmates of houses. By growing corn in this manner a family might render itself partially independent of the farmer, grow its own wheat, and thus, at once, be elevated in the scale of existence! He would call this practice stegoculture. He had introduced it in some of his tenants' cottages, and could assure the Association that nothing could have answered better than that experiment.

Mr.Softobserved it was one of those beautifully simple discoveries of application, as he would phrase it, which, like Columbus's egg, only required to be set up in the right manner, to stand a monument of ingenuity and genius to all future ages!

Mr.Plunkey(from the Statistical section) said, that this discovery had relieved his mind of a heavy weight; he had long hoped for some light to dissipate the gloom with which he viewed the increase of population, while the land did not increase, but, on the contrary, diminished; for, as generations sprung up, houses rose also; thus, as more crop-ground was needed, more ground was needed for buildings. But with the aid of stegoculture, he had now no reason to apprehend a scarcity of growing-room, but, on the contrary, it was evident to any geometrist, that the two sides of a roof were of greater area than the ground they cover, thus giving an increase instead of a diminution of surface. With the impressions he had of the usefulness of this mode of culture, he looked forward to the time when agriculture would vanish before the spread of human habitations, and the science of stegoculture become of universal application.

ThePresidentread a letter from Professor de Lenz, and the Schah Pyez, (Professor of Twigology in the University of Cairo), giving an animated description of their discovery of the skeleton of a male flea in the folds of a mummy cloth.

The secretary then read the report of the committee which was appointed last year to inquire into the reason, "why crocodiles laid eggs." The report stated,that, the Association having furnished them with means (£500) to prosecute this inquiry, so important to science; they found it absolutely necessary to take a long and arduous journey into Egypt, to investigate the facts upon the spot. They had run great risks in pursuing their researches: having killed a crocodile for the purpose of dissection (which act had filled the Arabs with horror, as they consider the crocodile holy), they had narrowly escaped becoming martyrs in the cause of science. They had examined many hieroglyphics, and had discovered upon some of the most ancient, figures of a crocodile with wings,—this proved them to have been at one and the same time inhabitants of the water, the earth, and the air, and therefore, from their assimilation to the functions of birds, they laid eggs. This the committee had concluded was the reason of the phenomenon. They also stated, that, from the various facts which had come under their notice during this inquiry, they had no doubt that dragons at one time existed,—and proposed that a grant should be made for the purpose of searching for the skeleton of the famous Dragon of Wantley.

Mr.Smith(of London) read a paper showing that the popular story of "Jack and the Bean-stalk" was founded upon the old tradition of the Lotus-eaters, and that the idea of the tale had been taken from the alleged power the Lotus-fruit had in producing an elevation-above-the-clouds sort of feeling in the eater,—which was only transferred into reality in the case of Jack: the injunction of Pythagoras to his disciples to abstain frombeans, being supposed to refer to the Lotus, may have given the idea of a bean-stalk to the novelist.

Dr.Daubstated, that by watering the ground round the roots of flowers with different chemical solutions, suited to the changes in colour wished for, he had been able to alter the tints of the petals to various colours, thus producing an agreeable and novel effect.

PLAYING ON THE PIANO.

The above communication having been read, a speculative listener suggested as a subject for one of the learned professors, the sympathetic connection which evidently exists between Music and Fire. He cited, as an old example of this, the fiddling of Nero during the burning of Rome; and related, as a recent proof of the secret affinity, the following story: "It is known," he said, "that during the fire at the Tower the soldiers in the fortress, as well as others, were occupied in removing the furniture of many of the inhabitants;" and free access was of course afforded them for that purpose. In one instance, a lady who had rushed up to the top of the house to secure some valuables, was, on descending after a short absence to the drawing-room, astonished to see two enormous 'British Grenadiers'attemptingto play thePiano; upon being discovered, they struck up the 'Grenadiers' March' to 'double-quick time,' carrying off the 'upright grand' in a very orderly and soldier-like manner.

By the way, as we have here recurred to the subject with which we opened this Number, the fire at the Tower, we may mention that a relic of the wheel of the Victory is yet in existence; for a friend of ours assures us that while the fire was raging in the upper floors of the Armoury he saw a personsawoff one of the handles of the said wheel; and if he have not yet given it into the handsof the proper parties, we would recommend him to do so at once, or it may be made ahandleagainst him.

It was upon another occasion that a lady and gentleman, who had just seen their opposite neighbour's house burnt down, were discussing the spectacle with great seriousness. "How I grieved," said the lady, "to see poor Mrs. Tims's beautiful damask curtains on fire." "Ah," returned her husband, who had a musical taste, "I didn't so much mind the curtains; but what grieved me most was to see the firemanplayingupon that capital grand piano of theirs."

The subject next started was equally seasonable—though not seductive. The poet is evidently in the situation of one of her Majesty's subjects that we know of—who is the parent of more of her Majesty's subjects than we do know of—who, in fact, declares that his house is so "full of children" he cannotshut the street-door for them.

NOVEMBER WEATHER.

Autumn leaves are falling round usNow, in all the late green gardens!Summer flowers would quite astound us——Rare are they as "Queen Ann's fardens!"Once green lanes are now mere sloshes;Garden walks are quite unpleasant;Cloaks, umbrellas, and goloshes,Now are aught but evanescent!All the shrubberies are dripping—Plots of grass are soft and spungy—Roads seem only made for slipping—And we fall like—Missolunghi!Now the streets are clear of rabble—Shopkeepers find no employment—Ducks and geese keep gabble, gabble—Mocking us with their enjoyment!Now we cry, "Whenwillit leave off?"—"What a very nasty day 'tis!"—"There!—'tis clearing, I believe, off!"—"No—how tiresome!—that's the way 'tis!""Sarah," says mama, "my dear love,Don't waste time in looking out there,Come, and learn your lesson here, love——Jacky, mind what you're about there!""John dear,MIND! you'll break that window,Come away, John, there's a darling!—Jane, love, put away that pin, do!—Tom,dokeep that dog from snarling!"—"There! you've broke it, John!" "O please, ma,—Couldn't help it!"—(here a blubber)(Enter Pa.) "Why how you tease ma!—Peace, you little squalling lubber!""Pray, my dear, don't let the childrenBreak the panes and roar like this now—Lauk, the noise is quite bewild'ring!""Pa, give little Jane a kiss now."Sweet to be "shut in" and quiet,Pleasant souls all snug together!But when "brats" are there to riot,Heaven defend us from wet weather!—C. H. W.

Autumn leaves are falling round usNow, in all the late green gardens!Summer flowers would quite astound us——Rare are they as "Queen Ann's fardens!"

Autumn leaves are falling round us

Now, in all the late green gardens!

Summer flowers would quite astound us—

—Rare are they as "Queen Ann's fardens!"

Once green lanes are now mere sloshes;Garden walks are quite unpleasant;Cloaks, umbrellas, and goloshes,Now are aught but evanescent!

Once green lanes are now mere sloshes;

Garden walks are quite unpleasant;

Cloaks, umbrellas, and goloshes,

Now are aught but evanescent!

All the shrubberies are dripping—Plots of grass are soft and spungy—Roads seem only made for slipping—And we fall like—Missolunghi!

All the shrubberies are dripping—

Plots of grass are soft and spungy—

Roads seem only made for slipping—

And we fall like—Missolunghi!

Now the streets are clear of rabble—Shopkeepers find no employment—Ducks and geese keep gabble, gabble—Mocking us with their enjoyment!

Now the streets are clear of rabble—

Shopkeepers find no employment—

Ducks and geese keep gabble, gabble—

Mocking us with their enjoyment!

Now we cry, "Whenwillit leave off?"—"What a very nasty day 'tis!"—"There!—'tis clearing, I believe, off!"—"No—how tiresome!—that's the way 'tis!"

Now we cry, "Whenwillit leave off?"—

"What a very nasty day 'tis!"—

"There!—'tis clearing, I believe, off!"—

"No—how tiresome!—that's the way 'tis!"

"Sarah," says mama, "my dear love,Don't waste time in looking out there,Come, and learn your lesson here, love——Jacky, mind what you're about there!"

"Sarah," says mama, "my dear love,

Don't waste time in looking out there,

Come, and learn your lesson here, love—

—Jacky, mind what you're about there!"

"John dear,MIND! you'll break that window,Come away, John, there's a darling!—Jane, love, put away that pin, do!—Tom,dokeep that dog from snarling!"—

"John dear,MIND! you'll break that window,

Come away, John, there's a darling!—

Jane, love, put away that pin, do!—

Tom,dokeep that dog from snarling!"—

"There! you've broke it, John!" "O please, ma,—Couldn't help it!"—(here a blubber)(Enter Pa.) "Why how you tease ma!—Peace, you little squalling lubber!"

"There! you've broke it, John!" "O please, ma,

—Couldn't help it!"—(here a blubber)

(Enter Pa.) "Why how you tease ma!—

Peace, you little squalling lubber!"

"Pray, my dear, don't let the childrenBreak the panes and roar like this now—Lauk, the noise is quite bewild'ring!""Pa, give little Jane a kiss now."

"Pray, my dear, don't let the children

Break the panes and roar like this now—

Lauk, the noise is quite bewild'ring!"

"Pa, give little Jane a kiss now."

Sweet to be "shut in" and quiet,Pleasant souls all snug together!But when "brats" are there to riot,Heaven defend us from wet weather!—

Sweet to be "shut in" and quiet,

Pleasant souls all snug together!

But when "brats" are there to riot,

Heaven defend us from wet weather!—

C. H. W.

Even the most agreeable offices and employments of life are sometimes accompanied by melancholy misadventures; and the pleasure which we enjoy from month to month in the good-humoured reader's company, is now subject to a very serious drawback; for a painful duty is imperatively imposed upon us. We have to express our deep and poignant regret at being the medium, innocently and unconsciously, of wounding the susceptible feelings of a lady. We have hurt the feelings of Mrs. Toddles, by publishing some particulars of her life. It is true, we did not consider them to be in the slightest degree calculated to produce such an effect, nor did we vouch for their accuracy: no matter; her feelings are hurt, her sensibilities are shocked; and that deeply-injured lady is entitled to, and is hereby offered, the expression of our most sincere and heartfelt regret.

Thus far in deference and delicacy to Mrs. Toddles. We must now proceed to state that we have received a letter from Col. Walker, or Talker, as he appears to sign himself, in which he remonstrates with us for publishing some professed particulars of the life of Mrs. Toddles, demands satisfaction and atonement on her part, and declares that even while his letter was being written, that injured lady was in violent hysterics. We concludefrom the tone of the gallant Colonel's complaints, that the public mention of Mrs. T.'s "age" has given offence; and our correspondent is pronounced to be totally misinformed on that as on other points. We grant this to be possible; we did not vouch for the accuracy of Mr. Sly's statement, and are of opinion that no gentleman can know a lady's age so well as she knows it herself. Our maxim is, that every lady has a right to be, at all periods of her life, exactly what age she pleases—thirty odd at sixty-two if she likes. We also admit that every lady has a right to go into hysterics as often as she sees occasion; but because Mrs. T. chooses to exercise these sacred privileges of her sex, we do not recognise Col. Talker's right to threaten us with "law," or to attempt to frighten us with notices of "action." We are not to be intimidated there; we have too many lawyers among our acquaintances, and very pleasant fellows they are too.

Col. Walker, as he was seen when going to fetch the Peppermint.

But, after all, we cannot conceive that there is any very great harm done; for we are perfectly well aware, whatever Col. Talker may say, that Mrs. T.'s "fit" was not of a nature to show that her sensibilities had beenveryseriously shocked, and we shall at once let the Colonel into our secret. We beg to tell him candidly thatwe know all about it. The fact is, that a correspondent of ours happens to reside exactly opposite Mrs. T.'s first floor, and without wishing to spy into other people's apartments, or affairs, could not help being a spectator of the scene he thus describes.

He says that Col. T., entering Mrs. T.'s apartment on the first floor aforesaid, found that lady in a state of great excitement, the "Omnibus," No. 7, in her hand. After pointing in a very agitated manner to the last page, she drew forth her pocket handkerchief. The gallant Colonel paced the room evidently moved; he then appeared to be attempting to soothe her, but in vain—she shook her bonnet violently, and went off in a fit. The Colonel hereupon, instead of rushing to the chimney-piece for the smelling-bottle, seized a pint decanter, and hastily quitted the house. Immediately after, the bit of a girl was seen attempting to force a glass of cold water upon her mistress, which only seemed to make her worse; for she kicked the girl's shins with those dear little bits of black legs of hers most violently, something in the manner of Mr. Punch after he has been thrown from his horse. The gallant Colonel, after a short absence, knocked at the street door, and the moment the girl left the room to admit him, up jumped Mrs. Toddles—fact!—ran to the looking-glass over the fire-place, put her bonnet to rights, completing the adjustment with the usual side glances right and left, and then, to the utter astonishment of our informant, she resumed her seat—and her fit!—Oh, Mrs. T.!

We suppress the remainder of our informant's description, merely remarking, that the pint decanter, when Colonel T. drew it from his pocket, contained, to all appearance, some strong restorative, the virtue and quality whereof the Colonel at once tested, by tossing off a bumper in the most gallant manner. We have since ascertained that it waspeppermint.

Whether our statement will be satisfactory to Colonel Walker we neither know nor care; but with respect to Mrs. Toddles we have expressed our contrition, and promise never to mention her age again. Any kindness we can render her will be at all times hers, and as a slight token of our sincerity, we respectfully beg that lady's acceptance of a pound of mixed tea, (eight-shilling green, and six-shilling black, very good,) which is left at our publisher's, if she will send her girl for it.

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