'Come, Tummas," said he to Mr. | confidants elsewhere. For want of a Bullock, "since we can't have the girl female companion, she was compelled of our hearts, why, hang it, Tummas, to bestow her sympathies upon Mr. let's drink her health!" To which Brock; who, as the Count's corporal, Bullock had no objection. And so was much in his lodgings, and who strongly did the disappointment did manage to survive the disappointweigh upon honest Corporal Brock ment which he had experienced by that even when, after unheard-of quan- Mrs. Catherine's refusal of him. tities of beer, he could scarcely utter a word, he was seen absolutely to weep, and, in accents almost unintelligible, to curse his confounded ill-luck, at being deprived, not of a wife, but of a child: he wanted one so, he said, to comfort him in his old age. The time of Mrs. Catherine's couche drew near, arrived, and was gone through safely. She presented to the world a chopping boy, who might use, if he liked, the Galgenstein arms with a bar-sinister; and in her new cares and duties had not so many opportunities as usual of quarrelling with the Count: who, perhaps, respected her situation, or, at least, was so properly aware of the necessity of quiet to her, that he absented himself from home morning, noon, and night. The Captain had, it must be confessed, turned these continued absences to a considerable worldly profit, for he played incessantly; and, since his first victory over the Warwickshire Squire, Fortune had been so favorable to him, that he had at various intervals amassed a sum of nearly a thousand pounds, which he used to bring home as he won; and which he deposited in a strong iron chest, cunningly screwed down by himself under his own bed. This Mrs. Catherine regularly made, and the treasure underneath it could be no secret to her. However, the noble Count kept the key, and bound her by many solemn oaths (that he discharged at her himself) not to reveal to any other person the existence of the chest and its contents. But it is not in a woman's nature to keep such secrets; and the Captain, who left her for days and days, did not reflect that she would seek for About two months after the infant's birth, the Captain, who was annoyed by its squalling, put it abroad to nurse, and dismissed its attendant. Mrs. Catherine now resumed her household duties, and was, as before, at once mistress and servant of the establishment. As such, she had the keys of the beer, and was pretty sure of the attentions of the Corporal; who became, as we have said, in the Count's absence, his lady's chief friend and companion. After the manner of ladies, she very speedily confided to him all her domestic secrets: the causes of her former discontent; the Count's ill-treatment of her; the wicked names he called her; the prices that all her gowns had cost her; how he beat her; how much money he won and lost at play; how she had once pawned a coat for him; how he had four new ones, laced, and paid for; what was the best way of cleaning and keeping gold-lace, of making cherry-brandy, pickling salmon, &c., &c. Her confidences upon all these subjects used to follow each other in rapid succession; and Mr. Brock became, ere long, quite as well acquainted with the Captain's history for the last year as the Count himself:- for he was careless, and forgot things; women never do. They chronicle all the lover's small actions, his words, his headaches, the dresses he has worn, the things he has liked for dinner on certain days; - all which circumstances commonly are expunged from the male brain immediately after they have occurred, but remain fixed with the female. To Brock, then, and to Brock only (for she knew no other soul), Mrs. Cat breathed, in strictest confidence, the history of the Count's winnings, and his way of disposing of them; | plot that was formed against her. how he kept his money screwed down But Mr. Brock had: for he had seen in an iron chest in their room: and many times a gilt coach with a pair a very lucky fellow did Brock con- of fat white horses ambling in the sider his officer for having such a large neighborhood of the town, and the sum. He and Cat looked at the Captain on his black steed caracolchest; it was small, but mighty ling majestically by its side; and he strong, sure enough, and would defy had remarked a fat, pudgy, palepicklocks and thieves. Well, if any haired woman treading heavily down man deserved money, the Captain the stairs of the Assembly, leaning did ("though he might buy me a few on the Captain's arm: all these yards of that lace I love so," inter- Mr. Brock had seen, not without rupted Cat), -if any man deserved reflection. Indeed, the Count one money, he did, for he spent it like a day, in great good-humor, had slapped prince, and his hand was always in him on the shoulder, and told him his pocket. that he was about speedily to purchase a regiment; when, by his great gods, Mr. Brock should have a pair of colors. Perhaps this promise occasioned his silence to Mrs. Catherine hitherto; perhaps he never would have peached at all; and perhaps, therefore, this history would never have been written, but for a small circumstance which occurred at this period. It must now be stated that Monsieur de Galgenstein had, during Cat's seclusion, cast his eyes upon a young lady of good fortune, who frequented the Assembly at Birmingham, and who was not a little smitten by his title and person. The "four new coats, laced, and paid for," as Cat said, had been purchased most probably by his Excellency for the purpose of dazzling the heiress; and he and the coats had succeeded so far as to win from the young woman an actual profession of love, and a promise of marriage provided Pa would consent. This was obtained, for Pa was a tradesman; and I suppose every one of my readers has remarked how great an effect a title has on theme than many a better man. He is lower classes. Yes, thank heaven! there is about a free-born Briton a cringing baseness, and lickspittle awe of rank, which does not exist under any tyranny in Europe, and is only to be found here and in America. All these negotiations had been going on quite unknown to Cat; and, as the Captain had determined, before two months were out, to fling that young woman on the pavé, he was kind to her in the meanwhile: people always are when they are swindling you, or meditating an injury against you. The poor girl had much too high an opinion of her own charms to suspect that the Count could be unfaithful to them, and had no notion of the "What can you want with that drunken old Corporal always about your quarters?" said Mr. Trippet to the Count one day, as they sat over their wine, in the midst of a merry company, at the Captain's room. "What!" said he. "Old Brock? The old thief has been more useful to brave in a row as a lion, as cunning in intrigue as a fox; he can nose a dun at an inconceivable distance, and scent out a pretty woman be she behind ever so many stone walls. If a gentleman wants a good rascal now, I can recommend him. I am going to reform, you know, and must turn him out of my service." And pretty Mrs. Cat?" "Oh, curse pretty Mrs. Cat! she may go too." "And the brat?" Why, you have parishes, and what not, here in England. Egad! if a gentleman were called upon to keep all his children, there would be no living: no, stap my vitals! Croesus couldn't stand it." "No, indeed," said Mr. Trippet: CHAPTER III. 'you are right; and when a gentle- IN WHICH A NARCOTIC IS ADMINIS man marries, he is bound in honor to give up such low connections as are useful when he is a bachelor." "Of course; and give them up I will, when the sweet Mrs. Dripping is mine. As for the girl, you can have her, Tom Trippet, if you take a fancy to her; and as for the Corporal, he may be handed over to my successor in Cutts's :- for I will have a regiment to myself, that's poz; and to take with me such a swindling, pimping, thieving, brandy-faced rascal as this Brock will never do. Egad! he's a disgrace to the service. As it is, I've often a mind to have the superannuated vagabond drummed out of the corps." Although this résumé of Mr. Brock's character and accomplishments was very just, it came perhaps with an ill grace from Count Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian, who had profited by all his qualities, and who certainly would never have given this opinion of them had he known that the door of his dining-parlor was open, and that the gallant Corporal, who was in the passage, could hear every syllable that fell from the lips of his commanding officer. We shall not say, after the fashion of the story-books, that Mr. Brock listened with a flashing eye and a distended nostril; that his chest heaved tumultuously, and that his hand fell down mechanically to his side, where it played with the brass handle of his sword. Mr. Kean would have gone through most of these bodily exercises had he been acting the part of a villain enraged and disappointed like Corporal Brock; but that gentleman walked away without any gestures of any kind, and as gently as possible. "He'll turn me out of the regiment, will he?" says he, quite piano; and then added (con molta espressione), "I'll do for him." And it is to be remarked how generally, in cases of this nature, gentlemen stick to their word. TERED, AND A GREAT DEAL GENTEEL SOCIETY DEPICTED. OF WHEN the Corporal, who had retreated to the street-door immediately on hearing the above conversation, returned to the Captain's lodgings and paid his respects to Mrs. Catherine, he found that lady in high good-humor. The Count had been with her, she said, along with a friend of his, Mr. Trippet; had promised her twelve yards of the lace she coveted so much; had vowed that the child should have as much more for a cloak; and had not left her until he had sat with her for an hour, or more, over a bowl of punch, which he made on purpose for her. Mr. Trippet staid too. mighty pleasant man," she said, "only not very wise, and seemingly a good deal in liquor." "A "A good deal indeed!" said the Corporal. "He was so tipsy just now, that he could hardly stand. He and his honor were talking to Nan Fantail in the market-place; and she pulled Trippet's wig off, for wanting to kiss her.' "The nasty fellow!" said Mrs. Cat, "to demean himself with such low people as Nan Fantail, indeed! Why, upon my conscience now, Corporal, it was but an hour ago that Mr. Trippet swore he never saw such a pair of eyes as mine, and would like to cut the Captain's throat for the love of me. Nan Fantail indeed!" "Nan's an honest girl, Madam Catherine, and was a great favorite of the Captain's before some one else came in his way. No one can say a word against her - not a word." And pray, Corporal, who ever did?" said Mrs. Cat, rather offended. "A nasty, angry slut! I wonder what the men can see in her?" "She has got a smart way with her, sure enough; it's what amuses the men, and " "And what? You don't mean to say that my Max is fond of her now ?" 1 said Mrs. Catherine, looking very "Oh, no; not at all: not of her ; - "Not of her!" screamed she. "Of whom, then? "Oh, psha! nonsense! Of you, my dear, to be sure who else should he care for? And, besides, what business is it of mine?" And herewith the Corporal began whistling, as if he would have no more of the conversation. But Mrs. Cat was not to be satisfied, not she, and carried on her cross-questions. "Why, look you," said the Corporal, after parrying many of these, Why, look you, I'm an old fool, Catherine, and I must blab. That man has been the best friend I ever had, and so I was quiet; but I can't keep it in any longer, no, hang me if I can! It's my belief he's acting like a rascal by you: he deceives you, Catherine; he's a scoundrel, Mrs. Hall, that's the truth on't." Catherine prayed him to tell all he knew; and he resumed. "He wants you off his hands; he's sick of you, and so brought here that fool Tom Trippet, who has taken a fancy to you. He has not the courage to turn you out of doors like a man; though in-doors he can treat you like a beast. But I'll tell you what he'll do. In a month he will go to Coventry, or pretend to go there, on recruiting business. No such thing, Mrs. Hall: he's going on marriage business; and he'll leave you without a farthing, to starve or to rot, for him. It's all arranged, I tell you in a month, you are to be starved into becoming Tom Trippet's mistress; and his honor is to marry rich Miss Dripping, the twenty-thousand-pounder from London; and to purchase a regiment; - and to get old Brock drummed out of Cutts's too," said the Corporal, under his breath. But he might have spoken out, if he chose; for the poor young woman had sunk on the ground in a real honest fit. "I thought I should give it her," said Mr. Brock, as he procured a glass of water; and, lifting her on to a sofa, sprinkled the same over her. "Hang it! how pretty she is." When Mrs. Catherine came to herself again, Brock's tone with her was kind, and almost feeling. Nor did the poor wench herself indulge in any subsequent shiverings and hysterics, such as usually follow the fainting-fits She of persons of higher degree. pressed him for further explanations, which he gave, and to which she listened with a great deal of calmness; nor did many tears, sobs, sighs, or exclamations of sorrow or anger escape from her: only when the Corporal was taking his leave, and said to her point-blank, "Well, Mrs. Cathe rine, and what do you intend to do?" she did not reply a word; but gave a look which made him exclaim on leaving the room, "By heavens! the woman means murder! I would not be the Holofernes to lie by the side of such a Judith as that-not I!" And he went his way, immersed in deep thought. When the Captain returned at night, she did not speak to him; and when he swore at her for being sulky, she only said she had a headache, and was dreadfully ill with which excuse Gustavus Adolphus seemed satisfied, and left her to herself. He saw her the next morning for a moment: he was going a-shooting. Catherine had no friend, as is usual in tragedies and romances, no mysterious sorceress of her acquaintance to whom she could apply for poison, so she went simply to the apothe caries, pretending at each that she had a dreadful toothache, and procuring from them as much laudanum as she thought would suit her purpose. When she went home again, she seemed almost gay. Mr. Brock complimented her upon the alteration in her appearance; and she was enabled 28 to receive the Captain at his return from shooting in such a manner as made him remark that she had got rid of her sulks of the morning, and might sup with them, if she chose to keep her good-humor. The supper was got ready, and the gentlemen had the punch-bowl when the cloth was cleared, Mrs. Catherine, with her delicate hands, preparing the liquor. It is useless to describe the conversation that took place, or to reckon the number of bowls that were emptied; or to tell how Mr. Trippet, who was one of the guests, and declined to play at cards when some of the others began, chose to remain by Mrs. Catherine's side, and make violent love to her. All this might be told, and the account, however faithful, would not be very pleasing. No, indeed! And here, though we are only in the third chapter of this history, we feel almost sick of the characters that appear in it, and the adventures which they are called upon to go through. But how can we help ourselves? The public will hear of nothing but rogues; and the only way in which poor authors, who must live, can act honestly by the public and themselves, is to paint such thieves as they are: not dandy, poetical, rose-water thieves; but real downright scoundrels, leading scoundrelly lives, drunken, profligate, dissolute, low; as scoundrels will be. They don't quote Plato, like Eugene Aram; or live like gentlemen, and sing the pleasantest ballads in the world, like jolly Dick Turpin; or prate eternally about rò κazov, like that precious canting Maltravers, whom we all of us have read about and pitied; or die whitewashed saints, like poor "Biss Dadsy" in " Oliver Twist." No, my dear Madam, you and your daughters have no right to admire and sympathize with any such persons, fictitious or real: you ought to be made cordially to detest, scorn, loathe, abhor, and abominate all people of this kidney. Men of genius like those whose works we have above alluded to, have no business to make these characters interesting or agreeable; to be feeding your morbid fancies, or indulging their own, with such monstrous food. For our parts, young ladies, we beg you to bottle up your tears, and not waste a single drop of them on any one of the heroes or heroines in this history: they are all rascals, every soul of them, and behave "as sich." Keep your sympathy for those who deserve it: don't carry it, for preference, to the Old Bailey, and grow maudlin over the company assembled there. Just, then, have the kindness to fancy that the conversation which took place over the bowls of punch which Mrs. Catherine prepared, was such as might be expected to take place where the host was a dissolute, dare-devil, libertine captain of dragoons, the guests for the most part of the same class, and the lostess a young woman originally from a country alehouse, and for the present mistress to the entertainer of the society. They talked, and they drank, and they grew tipsy; and very little worth hearing occurred during the course of the whole evening. Mr. Brock officiated, half as the servant, half as the companion of the society. Mr. Thomas Trippet made violent love to Mrs. Catherine, while her lord and master was playing at dice with the other gentlemen; and on this night, strange to say, the Captain's fortune seemed to desert him. The Warwickshire Squire, from whom he had won so much, had an amazing run of good luck. The Captain called perpetually for more drink, and higher stakes, and lost almost every throw. Three hundred, four hundred, six all his winnings of the hundred · previous months-were swallowed up in the course of a few hours. The Corporal looked on; and, to do him justice, seemed very grave, as, sum by sum, the Squire scored down the Count's losses on the paper before him. Most of the company had taken |