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Venus in Boston: A Romance of City Life

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Title: Venus in Boston: A Romance of City Life

Author: George Thompson


        
Release date: March 7, 2009 [eBook #28267]
                Most recently updated: January 4, 2021

Language: English

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VENUS IN BOSTON;

A Romance of City Life.







 "Ah, Vice! how soft are thy voluptuous ways!
 While boyish blood is mantling, who can 'scape
 The fascination of thy magic gaze?
 A Cherub-hydra round us dost thou gape,
 And mould to every taste, thy dear, delusive shape."
                                BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD


{First published 1849}


CONTENTS

  VENUS IN BOSTON;

  A Romance of City Life


  INTRODUCTION                                            3

  CHAPTER I. _The blind Basket-maker and his family._     3

  CHAPTER II. _Innocence in the Grip of Lust._            7

  CHAPTER III. _The Rescue._                             17

  CHAPTER IV. _A night in Ann street._                   20

  CHAPTER V. _The Chevalier and the Duchess._            52

  CHAPTER VI. _The Stolen Package._                      75

  CHAPTER VII. _Showing the operations of Jew Mike._     90

  CHAPTER VIII. _The Chambers of Love._                  98

[Illustration: Frontispiece to _Venus in Boston_, 1850 edition. By
courtesy of the Trustees of the Boston Public Library.]




INTRODUCTION


I conceive it to be a prominent fault of most of the tales of fiction
that are written and published at the present day, that they are not
sufficiently _natural_--their style is too much exaggerated--and in
aiming to produce startling effects, they depart too widely from the
range of probability to engage the undivided interest of the enlightened
and judicious reader. Believing as I do that the romance of reality--the
details of common, everyday life--the secret history of things hidden
from the public gaze, but of the existence of which there can be no
manner of doubt--are endowed with a more powerful and absorbing interest
than any extravagant flight of imagination can be, it shall be my aim in
the following pages to adhere as closely as possible to truth and
reality; and to depict scenes and adventures which have actually
occurred, and which have come to my knowledge in the course of an
experience no means limited--an experience replete with facilities for
acquiring a perfect insight into human nature, and a knowledge of the
many secret springs of human action.

The most favorable reception which my former humble productions have met
with, at the hands of a kind and indulgent public, will, I trust,
justify the hope that the present Tale may meet with similar
encouragement. It certainly shall not prove inferior to any of its
predecessors in the variety of its incidents or the interest of its
details; and as a _romance of city life_, it will amply repay the
perusal of all country readers, as well as those who reside in cities.

With these remarks, preliminary and explanatory, I proceed at once to
draw the curtain, and unfold the opening scene of my drama.




CHAPTER I

_The blind Basket-maker and his family._


It was a winter's day, and piercing cold; very few pedestrians were to
be seen in Boston, and those few were carefully enveloped in warm cloak
and great coats, for the weather was of that intense kind that chills
the blood and penetrates to the very bone. Even Washington street--that
great avenue of wealth and promenade of fashion, usually thronged with
the pleasure-seeking denizens of the metropolis--was comparatively
deserted, save by a few shivering mortals, who hurried on their way with
rapid footsteps, anxious to escape from the relentless and iron grasp
of hoary winter. And yet on that day, and in that street, there stood
upon the pavement directly opposite the "Old South Church," a young girl
of about the age of fourteen years, holding in her hand a small basket
of fruit, which she offered to every passer-by. Now there was nothing
very extraordinary in this, neither was there anything very unusual in
the meek and pleading look of the little fruit girl, as she timidly
raised her large blue eyes to the face of every one who passed her--for
such humble callings, and such mute but eloquent appeals, are the common
inheritance of many, very many of God's poor in large cities, and do not
generally attract any great degree of notice from the careless (and too
often unfeeling) children of prosperity;--but there was something in the
appearance of the pale, sad girl, as, in her scant attire she shivered
in the biting wind, not often met with in the humble disciples of
poverty--a certain subdued, gentle air, partaking of much unconscious
grace, that whispered of better days gone by.

At length the clock in the steeple of the "Old South" pronounced that
the dinner hour had arrived--and despite the intense cold, the street
soon became alive with people hurrying to and fro; for what weather can
induce a hungry man to neglect that important era in the events of the
day--his _dinner_? This perfumed exquisite hurried by to fulfil an
appointment and dine at Parker's; the more sober and economical citizen
hastened on his way to "feed" at some establishment of less pretensions
and more moderate prices; while the mass of the diners-out repaired to
appease their hunger at the numerous cheap refectories that abound in
the neighborhood. But the poor, forlorn little fruit girl stood
unnoticed by the passing throng, which like the curtain of a river
hurried by, leaving her upon its margin, a neglected, drooping flower.

"Ah," she murmured--"why will they not buy my fruit? I have not taken a
single penny to-day, and how can I return home to poor grandfather and
my little brother, without food? Good people, could you but see them,
your hearts would be softened--." And the tears rolled down her cheeks.

While thus soliloquizing, she had not noticed the approach of a little
old man, in a faded, threadbare suit, and with a care-worn, wrinkled
countenance. He stopped short when he saw that she was weeping, and in
an abrupt, yet not unkind manner, inquired--

"My child, why do you weep?"

The girl looked up through her tears at the stranger, and in a few
artless words related her simple story. She was an orphan, and with her
little brother, lived with her grandfather. They were very poor, and
were wholly dependent upon a small pittance which the grandfather (who
was blind) daily earned by basket making, together with the very small
profits which she realized by the sale of fruit in the streets. Her
grandfather was very ill, and unable to work, and the poor family had
not tasted food that day.

"Poor thing!" exclaimed the little old man when she had concluded her
affecting narrative. He straightaway began fumbling in his pockets, and
it seemed with no very satisfactory result, for he muttered--"The devil!
I have no money--not a copper; bah! I can give you nothing. But hold!
where do you live, my child?"

The girl stated her place of residence, which was in an obscure but
respectable section of the city. The little old man produced a greasy
memorandum book, and a stump of a pencil, with which he noted down the
direction; then, uttering a grunt of satisfaction, but without saying a
single word, he resumed his walk, and was soon lost in the crowd.

Evening came, and with it a furious snow-storm. Madly the wind careered
through the streets--now fiercely dashing the snow into the faces of
such unfortunate travellers as chanced to be abroad in that wild
weather--now shaking the roofs of crazy old houses--and now tearing away
in the distance with a howl of triumph at its power. The storm fiend was
abroad--the elements were at war, and yet in the midst of that furious
tumult, the poor fruit girl was toiling on her way towards her humble
home. She reached it at last. It was a poor and lowly place, the abode
of humble but decent poverty; yet the angel of peace had spread her
wings there, and contentment had sat with them at their frugal board.
True, it was but a garret; yet that little family, with hearts united by
holy love, felt that to them it was a _home_. And then its little window
commanded a distant view of a shining river, and green, pleasant fields
beyond; and all day long, in fine weather, the cheerful sunshine looked
in upon them, casting a gleam of gladness upon their hearts. It had been
a happy home to the blind basket-maker and his grandchildren; but alas!
sickness had laid its heavy hand upon the aged man, and want and
wretchedness had become their portion.

The girl entered with a sad heart, for she brought no relief to the
hungering and sorrowing inmates of that lowly dwelling. Without saying a
word she seated herself at the bed-side of her grandfather, and taking
his hand in hers, bedewed it with her tears. The old man turned towards
her, and said--

"Thou art weeping, Fanny--what distresses thee? Tears are for the aged
and the sorrowing--not for the young. Thou hast not brought us
food?--well, well; the will of Heaven be done! I shall soon be in the
grave, and then thou and Charley--"

"No, no, grandfather, pray don't say so," cried the poor girl, sobbing
as if her heart would break--"what should we do without you? Heaven may
spare you many happy years. I can work for you, and--"

"So can I, too," rejoined her brother Charley, a lad eight or nine years
of age--"and only to-day I got a promise from Mr. Scott the tailor, that
I might, when a little older, run of errands for him, and my wages will
be a dollar and a half a week--only think how much money I shall earn!"

"Thou art a brave little man," said the grandfather--"but, my children,
let us put our trust in God, and if it is His will that my earthly
pilgrimage should end, be it so! Thank Heaven, I owe nothing, and can
die at peace with all the world."

It had long been Fanny's custom to occupy an hour or so every evening,
in reading to her grandfather. But that evening she did not, as usual,
draw up the little table, and open the pages of some well-thumbed,
ancient volume, to read, for perhaps the twentieth time, of the valorous
deeds of some famed knight of the olden time, or mayhap, of the
triumphant death of some famed martyr for religion's sake. For alas! the
frugal but wholesome meal which had always preceded the reading of those
ancient chronicles, was now wanting; and the little family sat
listening to the raging of the pitiless storm without and counting the
weary moments as they passed.

The bell in a neighboring steeple had just told the hour of nine, when,
as the echo of that last stroke died away in the distance, a heavy step
was heard ascending the stairs that led to their humble apartment. As
the sound approached nearer, Fanny heard a voice occasionally giving
utterance to expressions of extreme irritation and impatience,
accompanied by certain sounds indicating that the person, whoever it
might be, often stumbled upon the dark, narrow and somewhat dilapidated
stair-case. "Blood and bomb-shells!" exclaimed a voice--"I shall never
reach the top, and my shins are broken. The devil! there I go again.
Corporal Grimsby, thou art an ass, and these stairs are the devil's
trap!" And here the luckless unknown paused a moment to breathe, rub his
shins, and refresh himself with an emphatic imprecation upon all dark
and broken stair-cases in general, but upon _that_ one in particular. At
this moment, Fanny made her appearance at the landing with a light, and
was astonished to behold her new acquaintance of that afternoon, the
little old man who had inquired her residence. A most rueful expression
sat upon his visage, and he carried upon one arm a huge basket. The
friendly light enabled him soon to reach the end of his journey; he
entered the little room without ceremony, and depositing his burden upon
the table, exclaimed--

"Hark'ee, child, I am an old soldier, am not apt to grumble at trifles,
[_illegible word_] and blunderbusses! I never before got into such a
snarl.--Mounting the ramparts of the enemy was mere child's play to it!"
Here he began to take out the contents of the basket, meanwhile keeping
up a running commentary, during which his countenance wore an expression
of the most intense ill-humor, in strange contrast with the evident
benevolence of his character and intentions. He found fault with
everything which he had brought, although, in truth, the articles were
all of excellent quality.

"Here," said he, with a growl of dissatisfaction--"is a pair of
chickens--starved, skinny imps, for which I paid double their value to
that knave of a poultry merchant--bah! And here are some French rolls,
that I'll be sworn are as hard as the French cannon balls that were
thrown at Austerlitz. These vegetables are well enough, and this pastry
hath a savory smell, but pistols and cutlasses! this wine _looks_ as
sour as General Grouty's face on a grand parade. Let me draw the cork
and taste--no, by the nose of Napoleon! it is excellent--fit for the
great Frederick himself. Here, child, haste and spread a cloth, for I am
hungrier than a Cossack. Powder and shot! we shall have a supper fit for
a Field Marshal!"

By this time the eccentric but kind old man had placed upon the table
all the materials of an excellent and substantial repast. This done, he
turned to the grandfather of Fanny, who had listened to his speech with
much astonishment, and exclaimed--

"Cheer thee up, old friend, cheer thee up, and pick a bone with us;
here, wash the cobwebs from thy throat by a hearty draught from this
flask. I am an old soldier, and love all men; I stand on no ceremony; so
fall to, fall to!"

Saying this, he seated himself at the table, and having seen that all
were duly supplied with a liberal portion of the edibles, commenced the
attack with [_illegible word_] truly surprising. Nor were the others at
all backward in emulating so good an example. The grandfather, whose
illness had mainly been produced by a lack of those little luxuries so
essential to the debilities and infirmities of advanced age, after
partaking sparingly of what was set before him, felt himself much
bettered and refreshed thereby; and Fanny, who had dried her tears, and
satisfied the cravings of hunger, smiled her gratitude upon the kind
provider. Little Charley had already become much attached to "good
Corporal Grimsby," who had given him such a nice supper--while the
latter gentleman, having finished his meal, drew forth an antiquated
pipe, having a Turk's head for the bowl and a coiled serpent for the
stem, which having lighted, he proceeded to smoke with much gravity and
thoughtfulness. Not a word did he utter, but smoked away in silence,
until the clock struck ten; then pocketing his pipe, and depositing the
now empty flask and dishes in the basket, he announced his intention of
departing. The grandfather was cut short in a grateful acknowledgment of
the stranger's kindness, by the abrupt exit of that singular personage,
who bolted down stairs with a precipitancy that was truly alarming,
scarce waiting for Fanny to light him down.

This singular visit was of course the subject of much surprise and
conjecture in the little family of the blind basket-maker; but when
Fanny related how the stranger had accosted her in the street, and
inquired her residence, they concluded that he was some eccentric but
benevolent person, who had taken that method of contributing to the
relief of their wants.

And who was this queer little old man, so shabby and threadbare--so
"full of strange oaths,"--so odd in his manner, so kind in his
heart--calling himself Corporal Grimsby--who had come forward at that
opportune moment to supply a starving family with food? Time will show.




CHAPTER II

_Innocence in the Grip of Lust._


The day which succeeded the stormy night described in the last chapter,
was an unusually fine one. The sun shone clear and bright, and many
people were abroad to enjoy the fine bracing air, and indemnify
themselves for having been kept within doors on the preceding day. The
streets were covered with an ample garment of snow, and the merry music
of the sleigh-bells was heard in every direction.

At an early hour, Fanny Aubrey (for that was the name of our little
heroine,) issued from her dwelling, and taking the sunny side of the
streets, resumed her accustomed perambulations, with her basket on her
arm. Fanny was small for her age, but exceedingly pretty; her eyes were
of a dark blue--her hair a rich auburn--her features radiant with the
inexpressible charm of youth and innocence. I have said that her air was
superior to her condition; in truth, every motion of hers had in it a
certain winning grace, and her step was light as a fawn's, although her
figure was not without a certain degree of plumpness, which gave ample
promise of a speedy voluptuous development. Though plumpness in the
female figure is considered to be incompatible with perfect grace, I
agree with those who regard it as decidedly preferable to an excessive
thinness, though the latter be accompanied with the lightness of a
zephyr, and the grace of a sylph.

Dress is sometimes acknowledged to be a sign of character--and the dress
of Fanny Aubrey certainly indicated the native refinement of her
mind--for though poor in material and faded by long use, it was well put
on and scrupulously neat--indeed, there was something almost coquettish
in the style of her bonnet and the arrangement of her scanty shawl--too
scanty, alas! to shield her adequately from the inclemency of the
weather.

As she passed along the street, her beauty and prepossessing appearance
attracted the attention of many gay loiterers, who regard her with
various feelings of admiration, pity and surprise that one so lovely
should pursue so humble an occupation; nor were there wanting many
well-dressed libertines, young and old, who gazed with eyes of lustful
desire upon the fair young creature, evidently so unprotected and so
poor.

Reader, pardon us if for one brief moment we pause to contemplate the
black and hideous character of THE SEDUCER. Should the teeming hosts of
hell's dominions meet in grand convention, amid the mysterious darkness
and lurid flames of their eternal abode--should that infernal conclave
of murderers, robbers, monsters of iniquity, perpetrators of damning
crimes; possessors of black hearts and polluted souls on earth, whose
mighty sins had sunk them in that burning pit--should all those lost
spirits select from among their number, _one fiend_, the worst of them
all, to represent them _all_ on earth--unite within his being _all_ the
crimes of which they had collectively been guilty--to show mankind how
vast and stupendous have been _all_ the sins perpetrated since the
creation of the globe--_that fiend_ could not cast a blacker shadow upon
human nature than doth the seducer of female innocence. Oh! if there be
one wretch living who deserves to be cast forth from the society of his
fellow men--if there be one who deserves to be trod on as a venomous
insect, and crushed as the vilest reptile that crawls--it is he who
calmly and deliberately sets himself about the hellish task of
accomplishing the ruin of a weak, confiding woman--and then, having
sipped the sweets and inhaled the fragrance of the flower, tramples it
beneath his feet. Will not the thunderbolts of Omnipotent wrath shatter
the perjured soul of such a villain?

But to resume. Fanny Aubrey pursued her walk, and was so fortunate as to
escape the insults (except such as were conveyed in glances,) of the
many libertines who are ever ready to take advantage of a female in a
situation like hers. As she was passing a magnificent mansion in a
quarter of the city mainly occupied by the residences of the
aristocracy, a beautiful young lady alighted from a splendid sleigh, and
observing the little fruit girl, beckoned her to approach. Fanny
modestly complied, and the young lady, with one of the sweetest smiles
imaginable selected an orange from her basket, and taking out a purse,
presented her with a bright gold coin.

"I have no change, Miss," said Fanny, in some confusion.

"Keep the money, my poor girl," rejoined the young lady, with a look of
deep compassion, as a tear of pity dimmed her bright eyes--"I am sure
you need it; you are much too pretty for such an employment. If you will
try and pass this way to-morrow at about this time, you may see me
again."

Amid Fanny's heartfelt thanks, the young lady entered the mansion, and
the door was closed.

Poor Fanny! she resumed her journey with a light heart. She never before
had possessed so much money. Five dollars! the sum seemed inexhaustible,
and she began to devise a thousand plans to expend it to advantage--and
the fact that she herself was not included in any of those plans, was a
beautiful illustration of the unselfishness of her character. Not for a
moment did she dream of appropriating it to the purchase of a good warm
shawl or dress for herself, although, poor girl! she so much needed
both. She would buy a nice comfortable rocking-chair for her
grandfather; or a thick great-coat for little Charley--she couldn't make
up her mind which, she loved them both so much--yet when she thought of
the poor, sick, blind old man, a holy pity triumphed over sisterly
affection, and she resolved upon the rocking-chair. Then she determined
to hasten homewards to communicate her good fortune to her friends; and
on her way she could not help thinking of the beautiful young lady who
had given her the money, of her sweet smile, and the kind words she had
spoken; and wondered if she should really see her again the next day.
These thoughts, and the hope of seeing her benefactress again, made her
feel very happy; and she was hastening towards her home with a glad
heart, when her footsteps were arrested by a crowd of those dissolute
young females, who pervade every section of the city, and are
universally known as "apple girls."

These girls are usually from ten to fifteen years of age, and are
proverbial for their vicious propensities and dishonesty. Under pretence
of selling their fruit, they are accustomed to penetrate into the
business portions of the city particularly; and in doing this they have
two objects in view. In the first place, if on entering an office or
place of business, they find nobody in, an opportunity is afforded them
for plunder; and it is needless to say they are ever ready to steal and
carry off whatever they can lay their hands on. Secondly, these girls
have been brought up in vice from their infancy; they are, for the most
part, neither more nor less than common prostitutes, and will freely
yield their persons to whoever will pay for the same.--Should the
merchant, or lawyer, or man of business, into whose office one of these
"apple girls" may chance to intrude, solicit her favors (and there are
many miscreants, _respectable_ ones, too, who do this, as we shall
show,) and offer her a small pecuniary reward, he has only to lock his
door and draw his curtains, to accomplish his object without the
slightest difficulty. Thus, their ostensible employment of selling fruit
is nothing but a cloak for their real trade of prostitution and
thieving. The profanity and obscenity of their conversation alone, is a
sufficient evidence of their true character.

The girls whom we have mentioned as having encountered Fanny on her
return home, were a squalid and dirty set, though several of them were
not destitute of good looks, as far as form and features were
concerned. They surrounded her with many a fierce oath and ribald jest,
and it was easy to see that they were jealous of her superior
cleanliness of person and respectability of character.

"Ha, ha!" cried one, a dirty-faced wench of thirteen, clutching Fanny
fiercely by the arm, while the poor girl stood afraid and trembling in
the midst of that elfish crew--"ha, ha! here is my fine lady, with her
smooth face and clean gown, who disdains to keep company with us, and do
as we do! Let us tear off her clothes, and roll her in the mire!"

They were proceeding to act upon this suggestion, when Fanny, bewildered
and speechless with terror, dropped her gold coin, which she held in her
hand, upon the ground. It was instantly snatched up by one of the gang,
who was immediately attacked by the others, and a fierce struggle
ensued, for the possession of the coin, the young wretches tearing,
scratching and biting each other like so many wild cats. During this
conflict, Fanny made off as fast as she could run, but was followed and
overtaken by one of the gang, a large girl of fifteen, who was known
among her companions by the pleasing title of "Sow Nance." She was a
thief and prostitute of the most desperate and abandoned character,
hideously ugly in person, and of a disposition the most ferocious and
deceitful.--Laying her brawny hand upon Fanny's shoulder, she said, in a
hoarse and croaking voice--

"See here, Miss What's-yer-name, I wants to speak to you, if you please.
You needn't be afraid of me, for I won't hurt you. Them thieving hussies
has got your money, and you must make up your loss the best way you can.
Look at my basket--you see it's empty, don't yer? I've sold all my fruit
already, and if you'll go with me, I'll show you a nice gentleman who
will buy all the fruit in your little basket, and pay you well, too.
It's not far--will you go with me?"

The prospect of effecting a speedy sale of her stock in trade, was too
tempting to be resisted by poor Fanny, especially in view of the severe
loss she had just sustained, in being robbed of the money which the kind
young lady had given her. She therefore gladly consented to accompany
Sow Nance to the nice gentleman who would pay her so well for the
contents of her basket.

Poor, innocent, unsuspecting Fanny! she little thought that the
abandoned creature at her side was leading her into a snare, imminently
dangerous to her peace of mind and future happiness! "I will save up
money enough to buy grandfather a rocking-chair, after all," thought
she, as she gaily trudged onward, while ever and anon Sow Nance would
glare savagely at her from the corners of her snake-like eyes. It is one
of the worst qualities peculiar to corrupt human nature, the hatred with
which the wicked and abandoned regard the innocent and pure. Fanny had
never in the slightest degree injured the wretch who was plotting her
ruin;--and Sow Nance had no other reason for hating her, than because
she herself was a guilty and polluted being, while Fanny she knew to be
without stain or blemish.

In about a quarter of an hour they reached a handsome brick house in
South street.

"This is the place," said Sow Nance, as she rang the door bell; the
summons was immediately answered by an old negro woman, who, exchanging
a significant look with Nance, admitted them, and ushered them into a
large parlor. The apartment was handsomely furnished, the walls adorned
with many pictures, and the floor covered with a very rich carpet.

"Sit down, young ladies, and I will call Mr. Tickels down," said the old
negro woman, as she left the room; in a few moments, a gentleman
entered, and regarded Fanny with a gaze so piercing, that the poor girl
was covered with confusion.

The gentleman was, to all appearances, full sixty years of age; he was a
large, portly man, with very gray hair and a very red face: he was
attired in a dressing-gown and slippers, and wore a magnificent diamond
pin in his shirt frill.

This man was one of those wealthy beasts whose lusts run riot on the
innocence of young females--whose crimes outnumbered the gray hairs upon
his head, and whose riches were devoted to no other purpose than the
procurement of victims for his appetite, and the gratification of his
abominable passions.

A vague, strange fear stole over Fanny, while this gentleman thus viewed
her so closely--a fear which she could not define, yet which rendered
her excessively uneasy. Apparently the survey was satisfactory to the
gentleman--for he smiled, and in doing so displayed two rows of teeth
not unlike the fangs of a wolf. Then he beckoned Sow Nance to follow him
from the room, and held a whispered conversation with her in the
passage.

"Who is she, Nance?" asked the gentleman.

"Not _one of us_," was the reply, "she sells fruit, and is poor, but her
folks are respectable;--you must pay me well for bringing her here, for
she's handsome."

"True; but are you sure she has never--"

"_Sure!_" replied Nance, almost fiercely--"I'll take my oath on it;
hasn't she always kept away from us, and ain't all the girls hating her
like h----l, 'cause she's virtuous? Don't you suppose _I_ know?"

"Good," said the gentleman; and taking a gold coin from his pocket, he
gave it to Nance, who, stooping down, secreted it in her stocking; then
she noiselessly opened the front door and left the house, singing in a
hoarse voice, as she sped on her way towards Ann street, (where she
lived,) these barbarous words:--

    "The lamb to the wolf is sold, sold, sold;
    No more she'll return to her fold, fold, fold--
    And Sow Nance will dare another to snare,
    And the wolf shall have her for gold, gold, gold!"

The gentleman (I use the word _ironically_, reader,) re-entered the
parlor, advanced to where Fanny was seated, and laying his heavy hand
upon the young girl's shoulder, glued his polluted lips to her pure
cheek. She sprang from his profaning grasp with a cry of terror, and
fled towards the door--it was _locked_! The gentleman laughed, and
said--

"No, no, my pretty bird, you cannot escape from your cage so easily; and
why should you wish to? Your cage shall have golden wires, and you shall
be fed on delicacies, my little flutterer--so smooth the feathers of
your bright wings, my dear, and sing your sweetest notes!"

Fanny burst into tears, and fell on her knees before the old
libertine.--Young and innocent as she was, a dark suspicion of his
purpose came like a shadow over her soul, and she cried in piteous
accents--

"Pray, good sir, let me go home to my poor grandfather and my little
brother--they will be expecting me, and will feel worried at my absence.
Surely, sir, you will not have the heart to harm me--I am but a poor
fruit girl, without father or mother. Pray let me go, sir."

That appeal, made touching by the youth and innocence of the speaker,
and by her profound distress, might have melted a heart of iron--but it
moved not the stony heart of the old villain, and he looked upon her
with his cold, hard eyes, and his disgusting smile, as he said--

"Your tears make you doubly interesting, my sweet child. I am afraid
that your poor grandfather and your little brother, as you call them,
will be obliged to wait a long while for your return, let them worry
ever so much at your absence. You say truly that I have not the heart to
harm you, a poor fruit girl,--no, I will make a lady of you; and as you
have, you say, neither father nor mother, I will supply their place, my
pretty dear, and be your _lover_ into the bargain. Those coarse garments
shall be changed for silks and satins,--that shining hair shall be made
radiant with gems,--jewels shall sparkle on that fair neck, and on those
taper fingers,--you shall ride in a carriage, and have servants to wait
on you,--and you shall sleep on a downy bed, and live in a grand house,
like this. Say, will not all these fine things be better than selling
fruit in the cold streets?"

But the sobbing girl implored him to let her go home. The gentleman
ground his teeth with rage.

"Well, well," said he, after a brief pause, and speaking in an assumed
tone of kindness, "you _shall_ go home, since you wish it." He rang a
bell, and the old negro woman appeared, to whom he whispered for a few
moments, and then left the room.

"Come, Miss," said the old wench, addressing Fanny, with a grin that was
anything but encouraging or expressive of a friendly feeling--"come with
me up stairs, and wash the tears from your pretty face; then you shall
go home--ha, ha, ha!"

It was a demon's laugh, full of malice and hatred; yet Fanny smiled
through her tears, for she saw not the old wretch's malignity, and only
thought of her escape from the danger which had menaced her, and
anticipated the happiness she should feel when once more in safety
beneath her own humble roof, in the society of all she held dear on
earth. Joyfully did she follow the old wench up stairs and into an
apartment still more handsomely furnished than the one below; but what
was her astonishment and affright, when her sable conductress gave her a
violent push which threw her violently to the floor, and then quickly
left the room and locked the door! A presentiment that she was
imprisoned, and for the worst of purposes, flashed through her mind, and
she made the apartment resound with her shrieks. But, alas! no help was
near--no friendly hand was there to burst open the door of her prison,
and rescue her from a house, within whose walls she was threatened with
the worst fate that can befall a helpless maiden--the loss of her honor.
Her loud shrieks penetrated not beyond the precincts of that massive
building--her calls for help were answered only by the taunting laugh of
the black hag outside, who loaded her with alternate abuse, threats, and
curses. At last, exhausted and despairing, poor Fanny threw herself upon
the carpet, and prayed--oh, how earnestly!--that no harm might happen to
her, which could call the blush of shame to her cheek, or make her poor
grandfather think of her as a lost, polluted thing.

Somewhat relieved by this, (and who shall say that a holy whisper
breathed not into her pure heart the assurance that she should pass
unscathed through the fiery furnace?) she arose with a calmer spirit,
and began to survey the apartment in which she was confined. It was a
large room, very elegantly furnished, containing a piano, and a
profusion of paintings. On examining one of these, Fanny turned away
with a burning cheek--for it was one of those immodest productions of
the French school, which show how art and talent can be perverted to the
basest uses. She looked at no more of the pictures, but went to a window
and looked out. The view from thence was not extensive, but merely
included a garden of moderate size, surrounded by a high wall; the
prospect was not a pleasant one, for instead of blooming flowers, the
appropriate divinities of such a place, nothing was to be seen but a
smooth surface of snow, relieved here and there by gaunt trees, whose
leafless branches waved mournfully in the breeze, seeming to sing a
requiem for the departed summer.

Fanny turned sadly away from this gloomy prospect, and seating herself
upon a luxurious sofa, abandoned herself to the melancholy reflections
engendered by her situation. Soon the fortitude which she had summoned
to her aid, deserted her, and as the increasing darkness of the room
betokened the approach of night, a thousand fears chilled her heart. She
was alone in that strange house--no friends were near--the treatment she
had received from the gentleman and his negro menial, indicated that
neither of them would hesitate to do her mischief, if they were so
inclined--what if they should murder her--or, dreadful thought! first
outrage, and then despatch her! While employed in such terrible
meditations as these, the darkness increased; grim shadows hovered
around, and dim but terrific shapes seemed to glide towards the
trembling girl. She groped her way towards the window, and looked
out--there was no moon, and not a star glimmered in the firmament. Soon
the darkness grew so intense, that had she held her hand close to her
eyes, she could not have seen it.

Every moment augmented her fears; and sinking down in one corner, she
pressed her hands to her aching eyes, as if to shut out some hideous
spectacle.

Not long had she been thus, when a mortal terror, to which all her other
fears were as nothing, seized her; she shivered with horror, and cold
perspiration started from every pore of her skin--for her sense of
hearing, painfully acute, detected the presence of a _moving object_ in
the room--she heard the rustle of garments--a footstep--the sound of
breathing; she strained her eyes through the intense darkness, but could
distinguish nothing. The moving object approaching her, nearer and
nearer--it seemed to be groping in search of her--and her blood froze
with horror when at last a cold hand touched her cheek, and she beheld a
pair of eyes glaring at her through the gloom. A low, mocking laugh--a
whispered curse--and the object glided away; then Fanny lost all
consciousness.

When she recovered from the swoon into which she had fallen, daylight
was shining through the windows. Hours passed away, and no one came to
invade the girl's solitude. At about noon, the door was unlocked, and
the old negro woman appeared, bearing a plate of provisions and a basket
full of clothing. Placing the food before Fanny, the hag bade her eat, a
request readily complied with, as she had fasted since the preceding
day. While she was eating, the old negress regarded her with a hideous
grin, and eyes expressing all the malignity of a serpent; and at the
conclusion of the repast, asked her--

"Well, Miss, how did you pass the night?"

Fanny related the fearful visitation she had experienced, and implored
to be released from her confinement; the black woman laughed
disdainfully.

"No, no, Miss," said she, "my master will never let you go until of your
own free will, you become his own little lady, and take him for a lover.
Listen to me, girl: I am going to speak for your own good. My master is
very fond of young ladies such as you, and goes to every expense to get
them into the house; but he never likes to _force_ them to his wishes,
his delight being to have them _willing_ to receive him as a lover--do
you understand? But those silly girls who are _not_ willing, he shuts up
in this room, which is haunted by a fearful spectre, who every night
visits the obstinate girl, and sometimes punishes her dreadfully, until
she consents to my master's wishes."

Fanny shuddered--and the old black woman continued, in a gentler tone--

"Now won't you, to avoid this fearful spectre, consent to become my
master's little lady? I am sure you will, my dear. See--I have brought
you some fine clothes to wear, so that you may be fit to receive Mr.
Tickels this afternoon, as he intends to visit you. Now, don't fail to
be very good and kind to him, for he loves you very much, and will make
a fine lady of you. Come, let us take off those old clothes, and put on
this beautiful silk dress that has been bought on purpose for you."

We have so far depicted Fanny as a very timid, gentle girl; but she was
not destitute of a becoming spirit.--When, therefore, she heard that old
wretch so calmly and deliberately talk of her surrendering herself to
dishonor and shame, the flush of indignation mantled her cheek; she
arose, and boldly confronting her tormentor, said, with spirit and
determination--

"I _will not_ wear your fine clothes, nor become the slave of your
master's will! He is a villain for keeping me here--and you are a
wretch, a wicked wretch, for trying to tempt me to do wrong. I am not
afraid of the spectre you speak of, for God will protect me, and keep me
from harm. You may kill me, if you like, but I will not--_will not_ be
guilty of the wickedness you wish me to commit; and if ever I get free
from this bad place, you and your master shall be made to suffer for
treating me so. Remember this, you nasty old black devil--remember
this!"

The negress quailed before the young girl, whose singular beauty was
enhanced ten-fold by the glow of indignation on her cheek and the
sparkle of anger in her eye. Then, without saying a word, she left the
room, locking the door after her.

Half an hour elapsed, and the wench again made her appearance; in her
hand she carried a short, stout piece of rope. With the fury of a
tigress, and a countenance (black as she was) livid with rage, she flew
at the young girl, tore every shred of clothing from her person, and
then beat her cruelly with the rope, until her fair skin was covered in
various places with black and blue marks. In vain poor Fanny implored
for mercy; the black savage continued to beat her until obliged to
desist by sheer exhaustion. Throwing herself breathless into a chair,
she said, with a fierce oath--

"So, Miss--I'm a nasty old black devil, am I? You impudent hussy, how
dare you use such language to me? But I'll learn you better. You shall
be more civil, and do as my master wishes, and obey me in everything, or
I'll not leave a whole bone in your skin. Now put on these new clothes
instantly, or I solemnly swear I'll not leave off beating you, until you
lie at my feet, a corpse!"

Poor Fanny was obliged to obey--for, apart from the black woman's
threat, she had no alternative but to put on the costly garments which
had been procured for her, her own clothes being torn to pieces; and of
course she did not wish to remain in a state of nudity. She therefore
dressed herself--and in truth, the garments were well selected, and
fitted her to a charm. Even when attired in her old clothes, she had
looked exceedingly pretty; but now, dressed in an elegant costume which
displayed her fine shape and budding charms to the best advantage, she
was positively beautiful. Even the old black woman could not help
smiling with satisfaction at her improved appearance.

"She is a choice tit-bit for my master's appetite," thought she,
chuckling to herself; and then she brought water, and made Fanny wash
the traces of tears from her face, and arrange her rich auburn hair
neatly and tastefully. This done, the negress departed, after telling
the young girl to prepare to receive Mr. Tickels in the course of the
afternoon.

What must have been the reflections of that poor young creature, while
dreading the entrance of the hoary villain who sought her ruin? We can
but imagine them: doubtless she thought with agony of her poor
grandfather and little Charley, both of whom she knew would suffer all
the anguish of uncertainty and fear, with reference to her fate. Then,
perhaps, her mind reverted to the happiness she used to enjoy within the
hallowed precincts of her humble home--which, humble as it was, and
devoid of every luxury, and many comforts, was nevertheless endeared to
her by a thousand tender associations, and had been to her as an ark of
safety from the storms of life. Her thoughts next dwelt upon the kind
young lady, who had given her the gold coin, and whose sweet smile and
pitying words still lingered in her heart. And should she ever see those
dear relatives or that kind friend again? Or if she did, would she be
able to look them in the face as a pure and stainless girl, or would she
blush in their presence with a consciousness of degradation? But she was
interrupted in these painful meditations by the sound of the key turning
in the lock; and a moment afterwards Mr. Tickels entered the room, and
advanced towards her. On observing her improved appearance, a smile of
intense satisfaction overspread his bloated face and sensual
features--and his eyes rested admiringly upon her form, which, though
not ripened, was beginning to assume a voluptuous fullness that
betokened approaching womanhood. Taking her hand, he drew her to a sofa
and seated her by his side. How tumultuously her heart beat with
apprehension and fear!--and the old _gentleman's_ first words were by no
means calculated to allay her alarm.

"My charming little girl," said he, raising her hand to his lips--"how
beautiful you look! A _fruit girl_!--by heavens, you are fit to be a
duchess! Such sweet blue eyes--such luxuriant hair--such pure Grecian
features--such a complexion, the rose blending with the lily--such a
snowy breast, expanding into the two "apples of love!" And that little
foot, peeping so coquettishly from beneath the skirts of your dress,
should ever be encased in a satin slipper, and press naught but rich and
downy carpets in the magnificent saloons of aristocratic wealth! Nay,
nay, my little trembler, be not afraid, but listen to me: I love you
more than words can express--you are the star of my life, and your
lustre shall light me on my way to more than celestial felicity. Hear me
still further: the world bows the knee to me because I am rich--thus do
I kneel to you, my angel, for you are beautiful. You shall dwell with me
in a mansion, to which, in point of splendor, this is nothing. I will
have a _boudoir_ prepared expressly for your use; it shall be lined with
pink satin, and in summer the windows will overlook a beautiful garden,
full of choice fruits and rare flowers; a sparkling fountain shall play
in its centre, and your ears will be ravished with the melody of birds.
You shall wander in that garden as much as you choose, and when you are
tired, you shall repose in a shady arbor, and dream of love and its
thousand blisses. In the winter season, like this, the opera, the
ballroom, the theatre, shall minister to your pleasure; and in those
places, none shall surpass you in splendor of dress or magnificence of
jewels. Say, _belissima_, will you give me your love in exchange for all
these things?"

While uttering the above wild rhapsody, (which is given at length in
order to show the temptations with which the old libertine sought to
allure his intended victim,) he had kneeled at her feet, and, despite
her resistance, encircled her waist with his arm.

And did that poor girl--the daughter of poverty--the child of
want--whose home was a garret, and who was familiar with the chills of
winter and the cravings of hunger,--did she, while listening to the
splendid promises of the rich man who knelt at her feet, for a moment
waver in her pride of virtue, or even dream of accepting his brilliant
offers? No! for even had she no other scruples, a host of holy memories
encircled her heart, as a shield of power against the tempter's
wiles,--the memory of home, of the two loved beings she had left there,
of former happiness in a more elevated sphere; and of a gentle mother,
whose beauty and virtues she had inherited, whose counsels she
remembered, and who was sleeping in the churchyard.

Disengaging herself from the libertine's embrace, and thoroughly aroused
to a sense of her danger, and the necessity of making all the resistance
she was capable of, to preserve her chastity and honor, the young girl,
losing all sense of fear, poured forth a torrent of indignant eloquence
that for the time completely abashed and overcame the hoary and
lecherous villain.

"No, sir--I will not, cannot love you; I hate and despise you, old
wretch that you are, seeking to tempt a poor child like me to her ruin.
Oh! you are rich, and have the manners of a gentleman before the
world,--and yet you are more base, mean and cowardly than the commonest
ruffian that ever stole a purse or cut a throat! Let me go hence, I
command you; you dare not refuse me, for I know there is a law to
protect _me_, as well as the richest and the highest, and I will go to
those who execute the law, and have you dragged to the bar of justice to
answer for this outrage. Do you hear, sir?--let me go from this accursed
place, or dread the power of the law and the vengeance of Almighty God!"

The libertine quailed before the flashing eyes and proud scorn of his
intended victim; his discomfiture, however, lasted but for a moment. His
red face grew black with the passions of rage and lust combined; he
muttered a fierce curse, and springing forward, seized her in his
vice-like grasp, and forced her towards the sofa, exclaiming--

"Curses on you, little hell-bird, since neither persuasions nor promises
will make you mine, it shall be done by force. Nay, if you scream so, by
the powers of darkness I'll strangle you!"

In all human probability he would have been as good as his word, for
Fanny continued to scream louder and louder; when suddenly Mr. Tickels
received a blow on the head that brought him to the ground, and a voice
cried out--

"Broad-swords and bomb-shells! I am just in time!"

While the libertine lay sprawling upon the carpet, Fanny turned to thank
her deliverer; and what was her astonishment and joy when she beheld the
wrinkled, care-worn face, and odd, shabby garments of--Corporal Grimsby.




CHAPTER III

_The Rescue._


"By the nose of Napoleon!" cried the worthy Corporal, clasping Fanny in
his arms,--"this is fortunate. Attacked the enemy in the rear--drove him
from his position,--completely routed him, and left him wounded on the
field; and you, my dear child, are the spoils of war!"

Mr. Tickels arose with difficulty from his prostrate position, rubbing
his forehead, which was decorated with a token of the Corporal's vigor,
in the shape of a huge bump not included in the science of phrenology.
Turning fiercely to the latter gentleman, and quivering with rage, he
demanded--

"Death and fury, sir! how dare you intrude into this room,--into this
house? Who are you, and what in the devil's name brings you here? Speak,
you villain, or--"

"Hold!" cried the Corporal, his face crimsoning with anger, for he was a
choleric little old gentleman, was the Corporal, and as quick to become
enraged as to do a good action; "hold! No man shall call me villain with
impunity; I shot two rascally Dons at Madrid for the same word, and by
God, sir, if _you_ repeat it, I'll cane you within an inch of your
life!"

Mr. Tickels was as great a coward as a scoundrel; and though he was a
much more powerful man than the Corporal, he deemed it prudent not to
enrage the fierce little old gentleman more than necessary. He therefore
adopted a milder tone, and asked,--

"Well, sir, what is your business here?"

"To convey this poor child to her home and friends," replied the
Corporal, sternly. "It matters not how I ascertained her whereabouts;
'tis enough to know that I arrived here in time to rescue her from your
brutality. You shall pay dearly for this outrage, damn you!" added the
Corporal, again getting into a passion, and turning very red in the
face. "But come, my child, let us leave the den of this old hyena, and
go to your poor grandfather and little Charley."

Mr. Tickels closed the door, and placed his back against it with a
determined air.

"You are mistaken, sir," said he, calmly,--"if you suppose that you can
thus force yourself into my house, and into my private apartments, and
without explanation kidnap or carry off a young person whose presence
here is no affair of yours. Do you know me, sir? I am the Honorable
Timothy Tickels, ex-member of Congress, men are not in the habit of
questioning my motives or interfering with my actions. I am rich, and my
influence is unbounded, and, were I so disposed, I could have you
severely punished for the assault which you have committed on me. Your
dress and appearance indicate poverty, although your language evinces
that you have enjoyed more elevated fortunes; I am disposed to be not
only merciful, but generous. Come, sir--leave this young person with me,
unmolested; depart from this house quietly, and say nothing about what
you have seen, and here is a fifty dollar bill for you. When you need
more, come to me, and you shall have it."

The Honorable Mr. Tickels drew from his well-filled wallet a bank-note
for the amount named, and handed it to the Corporal, who regarded it
with a curious smile, and twirled it in his fingers. His smile may have
been one of gratification at receiving the money--but it looked very
much like a sneer of contempt for the donor and his bribe.

"Now is it not strange," quoth the Corporal, soliloquizing,--"that this
dirty little bit of paper--its intrinsic value not one cent, its
representative value fifty dollars,--is it not strange, I say, that this
flimsy trifle, that an instant's application to the sickly flame of a
penny candle would destroy, can procure food for the starving, clothing
for the naked, shelter for the homeless? Great is thy power,
money!--thou art the key to many of earth's pleasures,--the magic wand,
which can summon a host of delights to gild the existence of thy
votaries; thou cans't buy roses to strew life's rugged pathway--but thou
cans't not, O great deity at whose shrine all men kneel, thou cans't not
cleanse the polluted soul, still the troubled conscience, or dim the
pure surface of unsullied honor. Nor cans't thou purchase _me_, thou
sordid dross. Guns and grappling-irons!" abruptly added the Corporal,
abandoning his philosophical strain, and getting into a towering
passion,--"would you bribe me to desert my post as a guardian of
innocence, and turn traitor to every principle of honor in my
heart?--Bah!" and crumpling the bill in his hand, he threw it into the
face of the Honorable Mr. Tickels, much to that individual's amazement.

"What do you mean, sir?" he demanded, "do you scorn my gift?"

"Yes!" thundered the little Corporal, "you and your gift may go to the
devil together; and hark'ee, sir, perhaps 'tis well that you should know
who _I_ am, as you have so formally introduced yourself to me; I am--"

The remainder of the sentence was whispered in the ear of his listener,
but the effect was magical. The Honorable Mr. Tickels started, and
rapidly surveyed the person and countenance of the Corporal; then he
reddened with confusion, and began to murmur a broken apology for his
conduct, in which he was interrupted rather abruptly.

"Not a word, sir, not a word," said the little old gentleman, "all your
apologies cannot remove from my mind the impression created by your
treatment of this poor child; and, sir," (here the Corporal again lost
his temper) "you cannot destroy my conviction that you are the d----dest
scoundrel that ever went unhung! Consider yourself fortunate if you are
not held legally responsible for your forcible detention of the young
girl in your house, and for your attempted outrage on her person,--damn
you! Come, my child, this gentleman will no longer oppose our exit from
his mansion."

The Corporal was right; the Honorable Mr. Tickels offered not the
slightest objection to their departure, but on the contrary ushered them
down stairs with great politeness, and held open the street door for
them to pass out.

When Fanny found herself once more in the open street, out of the power
of her persecutor, and on the way to her home and friends, her gratitude
to her deliverer knew no bounds; she thanked the good Corporal a
thousand times, and spoke of the approaching meeting with her
grandfather and brother with rapture. Soon they reached their place of
destination; once more the young girl stood in the humble apartment
wherein all her affections were centered;--once more her aged
grandfather clasped her in his arms, and again did she receive the fond
kiss of fraternal love from the lips of her brother.

As soon as they had left the residence of the Honorable Mr. Tickels, in
South street, the gentleman locked himself up in his study, threw
himself into a chair, and actually began tearing his hair with rage and
vexation.

"Hell and furies!" cried he--"to be thus fooled and baffled at the very
moment when my object was about to be accomplished--to have that
luscious morsel snatched from my grasp, when I was just about to taste
its sweets. The thought is madness! And, in the name of wonder, how came
HE to know that she was here, and why does _he_ interest himself in her
at all? I dare not trifle with _him_! Were some poor, poverty-stricken
devil to constitute himself her champion, I might crush him at once; but
_he_ is above my reach. No matter; she shall yet be mine--I swear it, by
all the powers of hell! I care not whether by open violence, or secret
abduction, or subtle stratagem; I shall gain possession of her person,
and once in my power, not all the angels in heaven, or men on earth, or
fiends in hell, shall tear her from my grasp.--Ah, by Beelzebub, well
tho't of!--I know the mistress of a house of prostitution (of which
house I am the _owner_,) beneath whose den, as she has often told me,
there is a secret cellar, which she has had privately constructed, and
to which there is no access except through a panel in her chamber--which
panel and the method of opening it, are known only to her, and a few
persons in whom she can place implicit confidence.--This brothel-keeper
told me, too, that she had the cellar made as a safe depository for
young females who had been abducted from their homes,--a place of
security from the search of friends, and the police. In that
subterranean retreat, (which she informed me, is luxuriantly furnished,
although the light of day never penetrates there,) these stolen girls
are compelled to receive the visits of their lovers; and there, amid the
gloom and silence of that underground prison they are initiated in all
the mysteries of prostitution. By heaven 'tis the very place for my
little fruit girl; she shall be abducted and conveyed there--and once
safely lodged in these secret "Chambers of Love," HE who spoiled by
sport to-day, shall in vain search for her. Let him come, bringing with
him the myrmidons of the law; and let them search my house--then let
them, if they choose, go to the brothel, beneath the foundation of which
the girl is hidden, and search _that_ house, too,--ha, ha, ha! They will
search for her in vain. But _how_ to abduct her--there's the rub! Tush!
when did my ingenuity ever fail me, when appetite was to be fed or
revenge gratified? Courage, Timothy Tickels, courage! Thy star, though
dim at present, shall soon be in the ascendant!"

Such were the reflections of the old libertine, as he sat in his study
after the departure of the Corporal and Fanny; and he was so delighted
at the thought of a safe asylum for the latter, that, with restored good
humor he applied himself to the discussion of a bottle of wine, and
then, stretching himself comfortably on a sofa, fell asleep and dreamed
of the subterranean "Chamber of Love," and the little fruit girl.




CHAPTER IV

_A night in Ann street._


We proceed now to show how the Corporal discovered the fact that Fanny
Aubrey was confined in the mansion of the Honorable Mr. Tickels, in
South street.

Great was the consternation and alarm of the blind basket-maker and
little Charley, as the day passed away and evening came on, without the
return of Fanny. They were agitated with a thousand fears for her
safety, for both their lives were bound up in hers, and they doted on
her with an affection rendered doubly ardent by their poverty and almost
complete isolation from the world. In the midst of their distress,
Corporal Grimsby entered, bringing, as on the evening before, a basket
of provisions. To him they communicated the intelligence that Fanny had
not returned; and the eccentric old man, without waiting to hear the
recital of their fears, threw the basket on the table, bolted
precipitately down stairs, and walked away towards Ann street with a
rapidity that betokened the existence of some fixed purpose in his mind.
Meanwhile, his reflections ran somewhat in the following strain, and
were half muttered aloud, as he trudged quickly onward, now nearly
upsetting a foot passenger and receiving a malediction on his
awkwardness, and then bruising his unlucky shins against lampposts and
other street fixtures.

"By the nose of Napoleon! what can have become of the little minx? lost
or stolen?--most probably the latter, for in this infernal city a pretty
girl like her, so unprotected and so poor, can no more traverse the
streets with safety, than can a fine fat goose waddle into the den of a
wolf unharmed. Curses on these lampposts, I am always breaking my neck
against them--bah! Well, to consider: but why the devil do I interest
myself in this little girl at all? Is it because I am a lonely, solitary
old codger, with neither chick nor child to bless me with their love,
and whom I may love in return? Bah! no--that can't be; and yet, somehow,
there is a vacant corner in my old heart, and the image of that little
girl seems to fill it exactly. I am an old fool, and yet--damn you, sir,
what d'ye mean by running against me, eh!--and yet, it did me more good
to see that hungry family last night, eat the food that I had provided
for them, than it did when I, Gregory Grimsby, was promoted to the
elevated rank of Corporal. Now about this little girl--I'll bet my
three-cornered cock'd hat against a pinch of Scotch snuff that she has
been abducted--entrapped into the power of some scoundrel for the worst
of purposes. That's the most natural supposition that I can get at. Now
display thy logic, Corporal: thy supposed scoundrel must be rich, for
poor men can seldom afford such expensive luxuries as mistresses; being
rich implies that he is _respectable_--so the world says and
thinks--bah! Being respectable, he would not compromise his character by
engaging personally in such a low business as entrapping a girl; no--he
would employ an _agent_; and such an agent must necessarily be a very
low person, whether male or female--if a male, he is a ruffian--if a
female, she is a strumpet--and where do ruffians and strumpets, of the
_lower orders_ (for even in crime there is an aristocracy)[A] where do
they usually reside? why, in a congenial atmosphere--in the lowest
section of the city; and what is the lowest section of this city? why,
_Ann street_, to be sure. Truly, Corporal Grimsby, thou art an admirable
logician! So now I am on my way to Ann street, to explore its dens, in
the hope (a vain one, I fear) of finding the supposed agent who was
employed by the supposed rich scoundrel to abduct, kidnap, or entrap my
little Fanny. Should I be so fortunate as to find that agent, money will
readily induce him or her to divulge the place where the girl is hid;
for the principle of "honor among thieves" has, I believe, but an
imaginary existence."

[A] The honest Corporal was right; the well-dressed, gentlemanly,
speculating, wholesale swindler would scorn to associate with the needy
wretch who protracts a miserable existence by small pilferings--and the
fashionable courtezan who promenades Washington street and "sees
company" at a splendidly furnished brothel, can perceive not the
slightest resemblance between her position in society and that of the
wretched troll who practises indiscriminate prostitution in some low
"crib" in Ann street. And yet philosophy and common sense both level all
moral distinction between the two conditions.--A noble murderer once
protested against being hung on the same gallows with a
chimney-sweep--there was aristocracy with a vengeance! We opine that the
lofty and arrogant pretensions of some of our "nabobs," who are often of
obscure and sometimes of ignominious birth, are scarcely less ridiculous
than the aristocratic notions of a gentlemanly rascal who robs _a la
mode_ and picks a pocket with gentility and grace!

Leaving the Corporal to explore the intricate labyrinths of Ann street,
(in the hope of obtaining some clew to the fate of Fanny Aubry,) thou
wilt have the kindness, gentle reader, to accompany us into one of the
squalid dens of that great sewer of vice and crime. But first we pause
to read and admire the sign which decorates the exterior of a "crib"
opposite Keith's Alley, and which, with a peculiarity of orthography
truly amusing, notifies you that it is a "_Vittlin Sollor._" (This sign
remains there to this day.) Passing on, we cannot fail to be impressed
with the "mixed" nature of the society of the place; colored ladies and
gentlemen (by far the most decent portion of the population) are every
where to be seen, thronging the side-walks, indulging in boisterous
laughter; loafers of every description are lounging about, whose
tattered garments indicate the languishing condition of their wardrobes;
great, ruffianly fellows stare at you with eyes expressive of the
villainy that prompts to robbery and murder;--miserable men, ghastly
women, and dirty children obstruct the pathway, and annoy you with their
oaths and ribald jests. Let us descend this steep flight of steps, and
enter this cellar. Be not too fastidious in regard to the odor of the
place, for _eau de cologne_ and otto of rose are not exactly the
commodities disposed of here, the place being devoted to the sale of
that beverage classically termed "rot-gut," and eatables which, unlike
wine, are by no means improved in flavor by age. There is the "bar," and
the red-nosed gentleman behind it seems to be one of its best patrons. A
wooden bench extends around the apartment, and upon it are seated about
twenty persons of both sexes. A brief sketch of a few of the "ladies" of
this goodly company may prove interesting, from the fact that the names
are real, and belong to prostitutes who even now inhabit the regions of
Ann street.

That handsome, finely-formed female, with dark eyes and hair in
ringlets, and who is also very neatly dressed, is "Kitty Cling-cling,"
who has been termed the "belle of Ann street." That lady in a red dress,
with hair uncommonly short, (she having only recently dispensed with a
wig,) is Joannah Westman, of Fleet street, and Liverpool Jane from the
same _respectable_ neighborhood. This renowned "Lady" of the town was
(and is) distinguished by a huge scar on her left cheek, which seems to
be the exact impression of a gin bottle, probably thrown in some brawl
in Liverpool, her native place. Then there is Lize Whittaker, from
Lowell, who "ties up" at the corner of Fleet and Ann streets. Then we
notice two ladies who rejoice in the mellifluous names of "Bald-head"
and "Cockroach," and who are both worthy representatives from Keith's
Alley. These, with a small sprinkling of ebony lasses and their
attendant cavaliers, make up the very respectable assemblage.

And now everybody brightens up, as a couple of colored gentlemen enter
the cellar, and seating themselves upon a raised platform termed by
courtesy "the orchestra," commence tuning a fiddle and base viol,
preparatory to a dance by "all the characters."--Away the musicians
glide into the harmonious measures of a gay quadrille--and to say the
truth, the music is excellent, for Picayune and Joe are very skillful
performers on their respective instruments; and are well qualified to
play for a much more select and fashionable auditory. And now the
voluptuous Kitty Cling-cling is led to the centre of the festive hall by
a sable mariner, and begins to foot it merrily to the dulcet strains;
while Bald-head and Cockroach find partners in two African geniuses,
whose dress and general appearance would most decidedly exclude them
from admission into a fancy ball at Brigham's. Away they go, through all
the intricate mazes of the giddy dance. But see--a crowd of well-dressed
but dissipated young men enter the cellar, their wild looks and
disordered attire plainly indicating that they are on a regular "time."
Those young men have been imbibing freely at some fashionable saloon in
Court or Hanover street, and have come to consummate the evening's "fun"
by having a dance with the fallen goddesses of Ann street. With a
facetious perversity, they select as partners the most hideous of the
negro women, and "mix in" the dance with a relish that could not be
surpassed if their partners were each a Venus, and the cellar a
magnificent hall of Terpsichore. The dance concluded, they throw down a
handful of silver upon the counter, and invite "all hands to take a
drink," but very rarely drink themselves in such a place, well knowing
the liquor to be unworthy the palate of men accustomed to the superior
beverages of the aristocratic establishments. At the completion of this
ceremony, they take their departure, to visit some other "crib," and
repeat the same performances.

But let us (supposing ourselves to be invisible) pass from the dance
hall and enter the adjoining apartment, which is smaller. Seated around
a rough deal table are about thirty men and women, engaged in smoking
and drinking. The room is dimly lighted by a couple of tallow candles,
stuck in bottles; the walls are black with dust and smoke, and the
aforesaid table and a few benches constitute the entire furniture of the
room. The general frequenters of the cellar are not admitted to this
place, it being especially reserved for the use of those ladies and
gentlemen who gain their living on the principle of an equal division of
property--or in other words, _thieves_. In this room, secure from being
overheard by the uninitiated and vulgar crowd, they could "ply the
lush," and "blow a cloud," while they talked over their exploits and
planned new depredations. The room was called the "Pig Pen," and the
society who resorted there classed themselves under the expressive tide
of "Grabbers." Although not a regularly organized association, it had a
sort of leader or captain whose authority was generally recognized. This
gentleman was called "Jew Mike," from the fact of his belonging to the
Hebrew persuasion; he was a gigantic, swarthy ruffian, with a long,
black and most repulsive features, and was dressed in a style decidedly
"flash," his coat garnished with huge brass buttons, and his fingers
profusely adorned with jewelry of the same material. He had recently
graduated from the State Prison, where he had served a term of ten years
for manslaughter, as the jury termed it; although it was universally
regarded as one of the most cold-blooded and atrocious murders ever
committed. To sum up the character of this man in a few words, he was a
most desperate and blood-thirsty villain, capable of perpetrating the
most enormous crimes; and dark hints were sometimes thrown out by his
associates in reference to his former career; some said that he was an
escaped murderer from the South; others that he had been a pirate; while
all united in bearing unqualified testimony as to the villainy of his
character and the number and blackness of his crimes. He could not plead
_ignorance_ in extenuation of his manifold enormities, for he possessed
an education that would have qualified him to move in a respectable
sphere of society, had he been so disposed. Upon his right was seated no
less a personage that "Sow Nance," the hideous girl who had that day
entrapped poor Fanny Aubry into the power of Mr. Tickels; she was much
intoxicated, and by the maudlin fondness which she displayed for Jew
Mike, it was easy to surmise the nature of the relation existing between
her and him. Included in the company were several other "apple girls,"
whose proficiency as thieves entitled them to the distinction of being
considered as competent "Grabbers;" each one of these wretched young
creatures had her lover, of "fancy man," who was generally some low,
petty thief--although, among the male portion of the assembly, there
were several expert and daring robbers, the most distinguished of whom
was Jew Mike himself, whose skill as a burglar had elevated him to the
highly honorable position of captain of the "Grabbers."

The "lush" was freely handed round, and the company soon grew "half seas
over;" then came wildly exaggerated narratives of exploits in robbery,
thieving, and almost every species of crime, interspersed with smutty
anecdotes and obscene songs, in which the females of the company were
not a whit behind the males. At length Jew Mike himself was vociferously
called on for either a song or a story; and not being a vocalist, the
gentleman preferred entertaining his friends with the latter; so,
clearing his throat by an enormous draught of brandy, he began as
follows:


                         JEW MIKE'S STORY

  "You see, lads and lasses, a year or two before I came to this
  accursed country to be _jugged for a ten spot_, for manslaughter, (it
  was a clear murder, though, and a good piece of work, too,) I was a
  nobleman's butler in the great city of London. Ah, _that_ was the
  place for a man to get a living in! No decent "Grabber," would stoop
  to petty stealing there; beautiful burglaries, yielding hundreds of
  pounds in silver plate; elegant highway robberies, producing piles of
  guineas and heaps of diamond watches,--that was the business followed
  by lads of the cross at that time in England. Well, there's no use in
  crying over spilt milk, any how; I was obliged to step out of England
  when the country got too hot to hold me, and if I returned there, by
  G----! my life wouldn't be worth a moment's purchase. And now to go on
  with my story. I was a nobleman's butler, and glorious times I had of
  it--little to do, plenty of pickings and stealings, free access to the
  pantry and wine-cellar, and enjoying terms of easy intimacy with the
  prettiest chambermaid in London. The only drawback upon my happiness
  was Lord Hawley's _valet_, a Frenchman, named Lagrange, who had been
  in his lordship's service many years, and was regarded as a remarkably
  honest and faithful man,--and so he was; but those qualities which
  rendered him valuable to his lordship, of course rendered him devilish
  obnoxious to me,--for he suspected my real character, and was
  continually playing the spy upon me, and informing my master of all my
  little peccadilloes. For instance, his lordship would send for me in
  his library, and say, sternly,--'Simpson, my valet Lagrange informs me
  that you are improperly intimate with one of the female domestics; you
  must stop it, or quit my service.' And perhaps the next day he would
  again summon me before him, and, with that cursed valet grinning
  maliciously at me from behind his chair, say to me,--'Simpson, I hear
  that you make too free with my wine, and are frequently intoxicated;
  stop it, or I shall dismiss you.' In short, Lagrange was the bane of
  my existence, and I secretly swore to be terribly revenged upon him
  for his tattling propensities. You'll soon see how well I kept my
  oath.

  "My Lady Hawley was a very gay, dissipated and beautiful woman, and I
  had long been aware that during my master's absence she was in the
  habit of receiving the clandestine visits of a handsome young officer
  of dragoons. To tell the truth, I used to admit him to the house, and
  see that no one was in the way to observe him enter her ladyship's
  chamber, for which services I received very liberal rewards from both
  her ladyship, and Captain St. Clair. Lord Hawley doted upon his wife,
  who was many years younger than himself; and often have I laughed in
  my sleeve when I thought what a cuckold she made of him. But he
  suspected nothing of the kind; I was the only person, besides the
  parties, who knew of the intrigue; even Lagrange, artful spy as he
  was, did not discover it. My master, who was addicted to gambling, was
  absent until a late hour every night, at Crockford's; and thus her
  ladyship had every opportunity to enjoy frequent interviews with her
  lover. As I knew of her frailty, I had her completely in my power; and
  often I was tempted to threaten her with exposure, unless she would
  "come down" handsomely with a thousand pounds or so, and grant me _any
  other favor_ that I might choose to demand, as the price of my
  silence,--for, as I said before, she was a beautiful woman, and a
  butler has feelings as ardent as those of a captain of dragoons.

  "Well, matters continued very quiet and agreeable, until late one
  night, after I had gone to bed, I heard a low but hurried knock at the
  door of my room. I arose, hastily threw on a few garments, and opened
  the door, when to my astonishment in rushed Lady Hawley, in her
  night-dress, and threw herself into a chair, breathless with
  agitation. Almost instantly the thought flashed through my mind that
  her intrigue had been discovered; cautiously closing the door, I
  advanced towards her ladyship, and in a respectful manner inquired why
  she had honored me with a visit so unexpected, and what might be the
  cause of her evident agitation, at the same time assuring her of my
  assistance, should she require it. She fixed her proud, beautiful eyes
  upon my face, and said, in a voice trembling with emotion,--

  "'Good heavens, Simpson, only think of it, my foolish affair with
  Captain St. Clair is discovered!'

  "'Is it possible, your ladyship?' I cried, 'and may I ask who--'

  "'His lordship's valet, Lagrange, saw me, half an hour ago, conducting
  the Captain to the private stair-case which leads to the garden,'
  replied her ladyship, shuddering, and shading her face with her hands.

  "'And might not your ladyship purchase his silence?' I asked. She
  replied,--

  "'I have just come from his room; you know how obstinate he is,--how
  entirely devoted to his lordship,--how blindly honest and faithful
  he has ever been,--how singularly averse to receiving presents from
  any source whatever, fearing it might have the appearance of bribery.
  I went to his room, and offered him a hundred guineas if he would
  solemnly swear never to reveal what he had seen. In a tone of cold
  indifference he said, 'I must do my duty to his lordship, to whom I am
  bound by the strongest ties of gratitude, even at the sacrifice of
  your ladyship's honor.' I entreated him, almost on my knees, to give
  the required promise; I offered to double, nay, treble the sum that I
  had named, but no; he turned from me, almost with disdain, (the
  low-born menial!) and requested me to retire, as I must be aware of
  the impropriety of such a visit, at such an hour. Perceiving the
  uselessness of attempting to bribe him to secrecy, I left him, cursing
  him for his obstinacy, and came direct to you. Heavens!' added her
  ladyship, drawing her robe over her partially denuded bosom, 'how
  desperate the fear of exposure has made me, that in this indecent
  attire I go at midnight to the chambers of male servants!--Simpson,
  can you help me in this dreadful emergency? You have heretofore proved
  faithful to me,--do not desert me now. _Lagrange must be
  silenced!_--do you understand me? At any cost,--at any risk,--his
  babbling tongue must be hushed, _by you_, for you are the only person
  whom I can trust in the affair. Yes, he must never speak the word that
  will proclaim my dishonor to the world!'

  "'_At any cost_, your ladyship?' rejoined I, fixing my eyes steadily
  upon hers, for her despair rendered me bold, and I was not one to
  suffer an opportunity to slip by unimproved.

  "'I understand you, fellow!' she replied, with a hysterical laugh and
  a glance of scorn,--'and much as I despise you, I answer yes! at any
  cost. But, gracious Heavens, what do I say? _you_, a menial, a
  base-born servitor! But no matter; even _that_ is far preferable to
  exposure. Good God! to think of being cast off by his lordship with
  loathing and contempt, despised and hated by my relatives,--an eternal
  blot upon my name,--forever excluded from the sphere of society of
  which I am the star and centre,--no, that shall never, never be.
  Silence Lagrange--silence him forever,--then ask of me any favor, and
  it shall not be denied.'

  "I approached her ladyship; she was pale as marble, but how superbly
  beautiful! Her glossy hair, all disordered, hung in rich masses upon
  her uncovered shoulders; her seductive night-dress but imperfectly
  concealed the glories of her divine form,--her heaving bosom, so
  voluptuous and fair, was more than half disclosed to my gaze. With a
  palpitating heart I laid my trembling hand upon one of her plump,
  white shoulders. Never shall I forget the majestic rage and scorn of
  her look, as she started to her feet, and stood before me in all the
  pride of her imperial beauty.

  "'Fellow,' she said, with desperate calmness, 'you are bold; but
  perhaps I ought to have expected this. I perceive that you are
  disposed to take every advantage of my situation. Be it so, then; but
  not until you have _earned the reward_, can you claim it. Remember
  this. Fortunately, his lordship is out of town, and will not return
  until the day after to-morrow; but oh! how unfortunate that his
  accursed valet did not accompany him! Lagrange pretended to be ill,
  and was left behind, and my lord was attended by another servant. No
  matter,--you will have an opportunity to dispose of this French spy
  ere the return of his master. I care not what method you take to
  silence his tongue,--but be secret and sure; and when the work is
  done, you shall have your reward--not before.'

  "Having thus spoken, her ladyship swept out of the room with the air
  of a queen, leaving me to devise the best method of silencing Lagrange
  forever. I could not mistake her ladyship's meaning; she wished me to
  _murder_ the man. Now, the fact is, ladies and gentlemen, murder's a
  devilish ticklish business, any how; not that I ever had any false
  delicacy in relation to the wickedness of the thing--pshaw! nothing of
  the kind,--you'll all believe me when I assure you that I'd as soon
  cut a human throat, as wring the neck of a chicken, for that matter;
  but then the consequences of a discovery are so ducedly unpleasant,
  and although I am confident in my own mind that I am destined to
  terminate my existence ornamented with a hempen cravat, I have never
  had any desire to hasten that consummation. So I didn't altogether
  relish the job which her ladyship had given me; but when I thought of
  her surpassing beauty, my hesitation vanished like mists before the
  rising sun, and I resolved to do it.

  "Several times the next day I tried to provoke Lagrange into a
  quarrel, but the wily rascal, as if divining my intentions, only
  shrugged his shoulders and smiled in the cold and sarcastic manner
  peculiar to him. This enraged me greatly, and after applying the most
  abusive epithets to him, I finally struck him. But all availed
  nothing; unlike the majority of his countrymen, the fellow was cold
  and passionless, even under insults and blows. I had provided myself
  with a sharp butcher's knife, which I carried in my sleeve, ready to
  plunge into his heart, had he offered to attack me in return; and thus
  I hoped to make it appear that I had slain him in self-defence. But
  his admirable coolness and self-possession defeated that scheme,--and
  I saw that I would be obliged to slay him deliberately at the first
  opportunity.

  "That opportunity was not long wanting.

  "During the afternoon he had occasion to visit the wine vault, of
  which I alone had the key; I accompanied him thither, and while he was
  engaged in selecting some malt liquor for the servants' table, I said
  to him,--

  "'Monsieur Lagrange, you are acquainted with a secret that intimately
  concerns her ladyship; what use do you intend to make of this
  knowledge?'

  "The Frenchman very coolly intimated that it was none of my business,
  and continued his employment. His back was towards me; I approached
  nearer to him, and said, in a low tone--

  "'You infernal, backbiting, sneaking scoundrel, you have often
  betrayed me to my master, and would now betray her ladyship. You shall
  not live to do it--die like a dog, as you are!'

  "While thus addressing him, I had drawn forth my knife; and as I
  uttered the last words, I plunged it with all my force into his left
  side, up to the very handle. The blade passed directly through his
  heart, and without a groan he fell dead at my feet.

  "No remorse--no sorrow for the bloody deed I had committed, found
  entrance to my soul; on the contrary, I gazed at the corpse with
  savage exultation. 'That babbling tongue is now forever hushed,'
  thought I; and then, as a sudden strange thought struck me, I
  added--'and that tongue shall be my passport to a bliss more exquisite
  than the joys of Paradise.' With an untrembling hand I cut off the
  dead man's tongue, secured it about me, and having hid the body behind
  a row of wine casks, left the cellar, securely locked the door, and
  then went about my usual avocations, resolving to dispose of the
  corpse that night in some manner that should avert suspicion from me,
  for I had every confidence in my own ingenuity.

  "Towards evening, I sought and obtained an interview with her
  ladyship, in private. She advanced to meet me with a hurried step and
  sparkling eyes.

  "'Simpson, _is it done_?' she asked, in a tone of extreme agitation,
  and laying her delicate hand on my arm.

  "'It is, your ladyship,' was my reply, producing and holding before
  her the bloody evidence of the deed--'and here is the tongue of
  Lagrange,--the tongue that would have proclaimed your shame and
  effected your ruin, had its owner lived; but he now lies a cold
  corpse, and this once mischievous member is now as powerless as a
  piece of carrion beneath a butcher's shamble.'

  "'And the body--how will you dispose of that?' she asked, shuddering,
  and turning from the sickening spectacle with disgust.

  "'To-night it shall be sunk deep in the waters of the Thames,' I
  replied; and then, in a more familiar manner than I had as yet
  ventured to assume, I reminded her ladyship of the _reward_ she had
  promised me, as soon as the job should be completed. Again she
  shuddered;--and turned deadly pale; and with a bitter smile, which
  seemed to me to be expressive of hatred and contempt combined, she
  answered--

  "'You are right, Simpson; you have obeyed my wishes, and merit your
  reward,--but not now, not now! Come to my chamber at midnight; I shall
  expect you,--you understand. Go now--leave me; remove all traces of
  your crime. I shall take care to have a quantity of plate removed from
  the house to-night, and destroyed, and when his lordship returns
  to-morrow, he will imagine that Lagrange, despite his supposed
  faithfulness and integrity, has absconded and stolen the plate,--that
  will account to him for the valet's sudden disappearance. Leave me.'

  "'Remember, at midnight, your ladyship,' said I, and left her; but
  when I had closed the door of the apartment, I imagined that I heard
  her give utterance to a scornful laugh. However, I attributed it to
  her gratification at the death of Lagrange, and descending to the wine
  cellar, I busied myself in washing away the stains of blood from the
  floor. How impatiently I longed for the arrival of midnight! the hour
  that was to bring with it the reward of my crime!

  "During the evening, I paid a visit to a noted "_boozing ken_" in St.
  Giles', which bore the very suitable appellation of the "Jolly
  Thieves." Here I engaged two desperate fellows of my
  acquaintance--(for I went on a _crack_, now and then, myself, just to
  keep my hand in,)--to make away with the body of Lagrange; they were
  to come to the rear of my master's house, an hour after midnight,
  provided with a sack and some means of conveyance; and, for a liberal
  reward, they promised to carry off the corpse, and, having attached a
  heavy weight to it, sink it in the Thames,--although I felt assured
  in my own mind, that, instead of giving it to the fishes, they would
  make a more profitable disposition of it, by selling it to some
  surgeon for dissection;--body-snatching being a part of their
  profession, as well as burglary and murder. Having made this important
  arrangement, and paid them a good round sum in advance, (for I was
  well provided with money,) I returned to my master's house, which I
  reached about eleven o'clock.

  "At length the welcome midnight hour arrived, and with a beating heart
  I repaired to the chamber of her ladyship. It was a large apartment,
  furnished with exquisite taste and elegance,--in fact, a perfect bower
  of the graces; and, to my somewhat voluptuous mind, not the least
  attractive feature of it, was a magnificent and luxurious _bed_,
  mysteriously hidden beneath a profuse cloud of snowy drapery, heavily
  laden with costly lace. I had already pictured to myself the delights
  of an amorous dalliance within that bower of Venus, with one whose
  glorious beauty could not have been surpassed by that of the ardent
  goddess herself--but how grievously was I doomed to be disappointed,
  at the very moment when I fancied my triumph certain! But I must not
  anticipate my story.

  "In answer to my respectful, and I must own, somewhat timid, knock at
  the chamber door, I heard the musical but subdued voice of her
  ladyship bidding me to 'come in.' I entered, and having softly closed
  the door, noiselessly turned the key in the lock, and advanced to
  where she was seated by a table, upon which there stood wine, and
  materials of a _recherche_ supper. Drawing a chair close to her
  ladyship, I seated myself, and gazed at her long and ardently, while
  she, apparently unconscious of my presence, seemed to be deeply
  engaged in perusing a splendid volume of Byron's poems.

  "Surprised and not perfectly at ease, in consequence of her silence
  and abstraction (for she had not even glanced at me,) I at length
  ventured to observe--

  "'Your ladyship sees that I am punctual; as of course I could not
  neglect to keep so delightful an appointment.'

  "Still she answered nothing, nor even raised her eyes from the book!
  During the silence of some minutes that ensued, I had an excellent
  opportunity to feast my eyes upon the seraphic loveliness of her face,
  and the admirable proportions of her queen-like form. She was dressed
  with studied simplicity, and in a style half _neglige_, infinitely
  more fascinating than the most elaborate full dress. A robe of snowy
  whiteness, made so as to display her plump, soft arms, and fine,
  sloping shoulders, and entirely without ornament, constituted her
  attire; and a single white rose alone relieved the jet darkness of her
  clustering hair. She was seated in a manner that enabled me to view
  her profile to the best advantage; I was never more forcibly struck
  with its purely classical and Grecian outlines; and I observed that a
  soft expression of melancholy was blended with the usual _hauteur_
  that sat enthroned upon her angelic features.

  "As I gazed admiringly upon the beautiful woman, whom I could almost
  imagine to be a being from a celestial world, I could not help saying
  to myself--

  "'After all, she is an adulteress and a murderess; and is now about to
  sacrifice her person to me, the instrument of her murderous wishes.
  Why, what a devil is here, in the form of a lovely woman, whose beauty
  would seem to proclaim her a tenant of the skies, while the black
  depravity of her heart fits her only for the companionship of the
  fiends below! Why do I hesitate and tremble in her presence? She is in
  my power--my _slave_! Yet, by heavens, what a superb creature! A
  thousand passionate devils are dancing in her brilliant eyes--her lips
  are moist with the honey of love--and her form seems to glow with
  ardent but hidden fires! Come, let me delay no longer, but speak to
  her in the language befitting a master to his slave!'

  "'Lady,' said I, in a tone familiar, yet not disrespectful--'why this
  reserve and silence? You know for what purpose I come thus at midnight
  to your chamber--it is by your own appointment, and to receive the
  reward of a difficult and dangerous service which I have performed for
  you. Nay, I see that you have anticipated my coming, by preparing this
  delicate and acceptable feast for our entertainment. Is it not so, my
  charmer? And you have dressed yourself in this bewitching style of
  chaste simplicity, solely to please me--am I right? But come; though
  you have not yet spoken or looked at me, sweet coquette that you are,
  I read in your bright eyes the confirmation of my hopes. Let us first
  banquet upon the delights of love, and then sip the ruby contents of
  the sparkling wine-cup, which I'll swear are not one half so sweet as
  the nectar of your lips, which now I taste.'

  "I clasped her in my arms as I spoke, and attempted to imprint a kiss
  upon her lips; but she hurled me from her with disdain, and said, with
  an air of lofty dignity--

  "'Dog, how dare you thus intrude into the sanctity of my chamber? and
  how dared you for a moment presume to think that I intended to keep
  the promise which, in my eagerness to have Lagrange silenced, I gave
  you? Know that, sooner than submit to your base and loathsome
  embraces, I'd brave exposure and even death itself! If _money_ will
  satisfy you, name your sum, and be it ever so great, it shall be paid
  to you; but presume not to think that Lady Adelaide Hawley can ever so
  far forget her birth and rank, as to debase herself with such as you.'

  "'_Money_, your ladyship, was not what I bargained for,' I boldly
  replied; for the scorn and contempt with which she treated me, stung
  me to the quick, and enraged me beyond all measure. 'If your ladyship
  refuses to perform, honorably and fairly, your part of the contract,
  you must take the consequences; you shall be proclaimed as an
  adulteress, and as an accessory to the crime of murder.'

  "'Fool!' she cried--yet her countenance indicated the fear she really
  felt, notwithstanding the boldness of her words--'fool! expose me at
  your peril! You dare not, for your own neck would be stretched in
  payment for your treachery, while your charges against me, low,
  miserable menial that you are, would never be believed--never! Such
  accusations against me, a peeress of the realm, and a lady whose
  reputation has never been assailed, would but add to the general
  belief in your own guilt, and the certainty of your fate; such charges
  would be regarded as a paltry subterfuge, and no one would credit
  them. Go, fellow--the bat cannot consort with the eagle, nor can such
  as you aspire to even the most distant familiarity with persons of my
  rank. Depart, instantly; and to-morrow you shall receive a pecuniary
  reward that will amply compensate you for the disappointment you now
  feel.'

  "With these words she turned away from me, waving her hand in token
  that the conference was closed; but I was enraged and desperate, as
  much by the scorn of her manner as by the disappointment I felt. A
  hell of passion was burning in my heart; and I said to her, in a low,
  deep tone--

  "'Woman, you shall be mine, even if I am obliged to commit another
  murder--I swear it! I hesitated not at perpetrating a deed of blood;
  nor will I hesitate now to obtain, by violence and even bloodshed, the
  reward you promised me for that deed! Lady, be wise; we are alone at
  this silent hour--I am powerful and you are helpless. Consent, then,
  or--'

  "She interrupted me with a scornful laugh, that rendered me almost
  frantic with fury. Reason forsook me; I lost all self-control, and
  rushed upon her with the ferocity of a madman, determined to strangle
  her.

  "Ere I could lay my grasp upon her, I was seized with a force that
  nearly stunned me. I arose with difficulty, and to my astonishment
  beheld the handsome countenance and glittering uniform of her
  ladyship's favored lover, Captain St. Clair!

  "'Villain,' said he, in his usual cold and haughty manner, (he was of
  noble blood, and as proud as Lucifer,) 'you little imagined that I was
  a witness of the entire scene in which you have played so praiseworthy
  a part! Upon my honor, you are the most ambitious of butlers! Cooks
  and chambermaids are not sufficiently delicate for your fastidious
  taste, forsooth!--but you must aspire to ladies of noble birth! Faith,
  I should not be surprised to hear of your attempting an intrigue with
  her gracious Majesty, the Queen! Hark'ee, fellow, begone! and thank my
  moderation that I do not punish you upon the spot, for your infernal
  presumption! Yet I would scorn to tarnish the lustre of my good sword
  with the blood of such a thing as thou!'

  "'Captain,' said I, boldly, (for I am no coward, ladies and gentlemen,
  as you all know,) 'as you have seen fit to play the spy, it is fair to
  presume that you are acquainted with the circumstances upon which my
  claim to the favor of this lady is based. At her instigation, and
  prompted by her promises of reward, I have murdered Lord Hawley's
  valet, Lagrange, in order to prevent his revealing to his master, the
  criminal intimacy existing between you and her ladyship. Now, Captain,
  I submit it to you as a man of honor--having committed such a deed,
  and exposed myself to such a fearful risk, am I not entitled to the
  reward promised by her ladyship? without the hope of which reward, I
  never would have bedewed my hands in the blood of my fellow servant.
  And can I justly be blamed for claiming that reward, and even for
  attempting to obtain it by force, since I have faithfully earned it?'

  "The Captain laughed, half in good nature, half in scorn, and said--

  "'Faith, you are a well-spoken knave, and appeal to my honor as if you
  were my equal; and I am half inclined to pardon your presumption on
  account of your wit. Now listen, my good fellow;--her ladyship, as a
  measure of policy, wished to have a certain person removed, who was
  possessed of a dangerous secret; now you were the only available agent
  she could employ to effect that removal. But you demanded a certain
  favor, (which shall be nameless,) as the price of your services, and
  would accept of no other remuneration. The danger was imminent; what
  could her ladyship do? The man must be disposed of, even at the
  sacrifice of truth; her ladyship gave the required promise (_intending
  never to keep it_,) you performed the service, and very properly, I
  own, come to receive your reward. Of course, you perceive the
  impossibility of a compliance with your wishes. No intrigue can exist
  between the patrician and the plebeian--you are low-born, she of the
  noblest blood of the kingdom. Are you so blind, man, that you cannot
  see--or are you so stupid that you cannot comprehend--the repugnance
  which her ladyship must naturally feel at the very idea of an amorous
  intimacy existing between a high-born lady and--good heavens!--a
  _butler_? Here, my good fellow, is a purse, containing fifty
  guineas--I will double the sum to-morrow. Now go; and remember that
  you have everything to expect from our generosity, in a pecuniary
  point of view; but a repetition of your demand for her ladyship's
  favors, will most assuredly result to your lasting disadvantage.'

  "Seeing the folly of attempting to press my claim further, I sneaked
  out of the room, with very much the air of a disconcerted cur with his
  tail between his legs, to use a simile more expressive than elegant.
  The moment I had entered my own chamber, the clock in a neighboring
  steeple proclaimed the hour of two, and then for the first time I
  remembered the appointment which I had made with my two particular
  friends, from the "Jolly Thieves," in reference to the disposal of
  Lagrange's body. The hour appointed for meeting them, was passed; and
  suddenly a thought struck me--a strange thought--which had no sooner
  flashed through my mind, than I resolved to act upon its suggestion.
  'Twas a glorious plan of revenge, and one which could only have
  emanated from my fertile imagination.

  "'The corpse of the Frenchman shall become the instrument of my
  vengeance,' thought I, chuckling with glee. 'I shall not need the
  assistance of those two fellows now--and, if they are still lurking
  about the house, I will reward them for their trouble and send them
  away. Ah, lucky thought--lucky thought!'

  "I found my two friends in waiting for me; they grumbled much at my
  want of punctuality, but their murmurings were hushed when I paid them
  liberally, and dismissed them, saying that I had discovered a much
  safer and more convenient method of disposing of the body, than the
  plan originally proposed, and therefore should not require their
  assistance.--They departed, rejoicing at their good fortune in being
  freed from a difficult and dangerous task, and congratulating
  themselves on having received as much money as they had been promised
  for its performance.

  "Taking with me a dark lantern, I descended noiselessly into the wine
  vault, and having secured the massive iron door, proceeded to execute
  my plan of vengeance. Comrades, can you guess what that plan was? No,
  I'll swear you cannot. But listen, and you shall hear.

  "Placing my light in a convenient position, I dragged the dead body of
  Lagrange from its place of concealment; then I bent over it, and
  examined the ghastly countenance. The features were pale and rigid,
  the teeth firmly set, and the glassy eyes wide open and staring. The
  awful expression of those dead orbs seemed, bold as I was, to freeze
  my very soul as with the power of a basilisk. For a single moment I
  repented the deed; but that feeling soon passed, and I rejoiced at it.

  "It occurred to me to search the pockets of my victim; I did so, and
  found a small sum of money, and a sealed letter, addressed to Lord
  Hawley. The valet had probably intended to despatch that letter to his
  master that afternoon--which design was frustrated by his sudden death
  by my hand. Eagerly I broke the seal, and read as follows:--

    "'LONDON.

    "'My lord.--Should your lordship have possibly designed extending
    your visit to Berkshire beyond the time originally allotted to the
    same, I entreat your lordship to set aside every
    consideration--every engagement, however pressing or important its
    nature may be, and to return immediately to town. Something has
    occurred, in the conduct of her ladyship, intimately affecting your
    lordship's honor. To relieve your lordship from any painful
    uncertainty that may be occasioned by this indefinite announcement,
    you will pardon me for stating plainly, that I myself saw her
    ladyship and Captain St. Clair, under circumstances that admitted of
    but one opinion in reference to the nature of the intimacy existing
    between them. Simpson, the butler, whom I am persuaded is in the
    confidence of her ladyship and the Captain, this afternoon
    questioned me in regard to my knowledge of the affair, and the use I
    intended to make of that knowledge; and he, not deeming my replies
    satisfactory, abused and struck me. My duty to your lordship
    prevented any retaliation on my part; and that duty, (the offspring
    of humble gratitude for your lordship's many acts of generous
    kindness to me, both in this country and in France,) now impels me
    to communicate these unpleasant facts--which I do, with sincere
    sorrow for her ladyship's indiscretion, and every desire for the
    preservation of your lordship's honor.

                                 "'From your lordship's humble servant,
                                                     "'LOUIS LAGRANGE.'

  "This letter, so characteristic of the polished, wily and educated
  Frenchman, was written in the French language, with which I was well
  acquainted, I therefore easily translated it. After a careful perusal,
  I placed it in my pocket-book--for I was well aware that it might one
  day prove a valuable auxiliary to me, should I feel disposed to inform
  my master of his wife's infidelity, and his lordship then could not
  doubt the truth of his own favorite and faithful servant, in whom he
  had the most unbounded confidence.

  "'Oh, scornful Lady Hawley and sarcastic Captain St. Clair!' I could
  not forbear exclaiming--'ye shall both be caught in a net of your own
  making, when ye least expect it! My lady will be turned out of doors
  as an adulteress; and my gentleman will perhaps be shot through the
  head by the husband he has wronged! Patience, patience, good Simpson;
  thou shalt yet riot in the very satiety of thy vengeance. But now to
  put in operation my first method--an ingenious one it is, too--of
  avenging my wrongs!'

  "Among the various wines with which the extensive cellar was
  abundantly stocked, was a large cask containing a particular kind, of
  a very rich and peculiar flavor; and of this wine I knew Lady Hawley,
  who was a luxurious woman, very fastidious in her taste, to be
  especially fond. Captain St. Clair, too, preferred it above all other
  kinds; and at the midnight suppers which he so often enjoyed with her
  ladyship, the ruby contents of this particular cask was most
  frequently called into requisition, as I well know, for I had been
  accustomed to carry it from the cellar to the door of the bed-chamber
  wherein the amorous pair indulged in the joys both of Venus and of
  Bacchus. The wine had been imported by his lordship, who was a _bon
  vivant_, from Bordeaux and was particularly valued for its rich color,
  solid body, and substantial yet delicate flavor, rivalling in these
  qualities, perhaps, that classic beverage, the famed Greek wine.

  "'I will add to the exquisite flavor of this wine,' said I--'her
  ladyship and her lover shall banquet on human blood; the corruption of
  a putrifying corpse shall be mingled with the sparkling fluid that
  nourishes their unholy passions.'

  "With but little difficulty, and less noise, (for I well understood
  such matters,) I removed the head of the cask, which I found to be
  about half full. How luxurious was the odor that arose from the dark
  liquid, fragrant with spices! Taking a small vessel, I drank a
  bumper--then another. My blood instantly became charged with a
  thousand fires; my heart seemed to swell with mighty exultation; my
  brain seemed to swim in a sea of delight. I laughed with mad glee to
  think of the superb vengeance I was about to wreak on my enemies; then
  I raised the corpse of Lagrange with Herculean strength, thrust it
  into the cask, and pressed it into the smallest possible compass; but
  found to my inexpressible chagrin, that it would be absolutely
  impossible to re-adjust the head of the cask, unless the body was in
  some manner made smaller. After a few moments' reflection, a happy
  thought struck me. I hesitated not a moment, but drew a sharp clasp
  knife from my pocket, deliberately severed the head from the body, and
  thrust it into the cask. Then, without the least difficulty, I
  replaced the top of the cask, and my work was accomplished.

  "I repaired to my chamber but slept not, as you may suppose; the
  events of that day and night had been of a nature too singularly
  exciting to admit of repose. Shortly after I had retired, I heard Lady
  Hawley conduct her lover to the back stair-case; there was a sound of
  kissing, and a whispered appointment made for another meeting, on a
  night when his lordship would probably be absent. 'Yes, and at that
  interview, my amorous pair,' thought I, 'shall you taste of the wine
  which I have improved by an addition which you little suspect, but
  with which you shall one day be made acquainted.' And then I laughed
  till the tears rolled down my cheeks.

  "Lord Hawley returned at the expected time, and immediately inquired
  for his valet, Lagrange. The gentleman was, of course, among the
  missing; and I overheard her ladyship announcing to her husband that
  the Frenchman had absconded, carrying off plate and jewelry to a
  considerable amount. Lord Hawley was extremely shocked and grieved on
  receiving this (false) intelligence; and I heard him mutter, as he
  retired in great perturbation of mind to his study,--'What, can it be
  possible?--Lagrange, whom I esteemed to be the most honest and
  faithful fellow in the world--of whose fidelity I have had so many
  evidences,--whom I have often benefitted,--can it be that _he_ has
  deserted and robbed me? Then indeed do I believe all mankind to be
  false as hell!'

  "A week passed, and nothing occurred in Hawley House worthy of
  mention. At the expiration of that time, his lordship went on a short
  journey, (connected with some political object,) which would occasion
  him a fortnight's absence from home. Then was her ladyship and the
  captain in clover! and then was afforded me an opportunity to set
  before them the wine which I had enriched by my famous _addition_!

  "Not deeming it necessary to adopt the usual precautions, my lady
  feasted, toyed and dallied with her handsome lover in her own private
  apartments, fearing no detection, as she was certain that her husband
  would not return before the specified time, and as I was the only
  person aware of the captain's presence in the house; she feared not,
  thinking that I dared not betray her, as she imagined that I was
  completely in her power on account of the murder I had committed.
  Pretty fool! she little thought of the plan I had formed for her
  destruction, and that of her haughty and hated paramour.

  "I waited on them at table in my humblest and most respectful manner;
  and I could perceive that they inwardly congratulated themselves on
  having, as they thought, completely subdued me, and bribed me to
  eternal silence with regard to their amours.

  "At their very first banquet, (for the splendor of their repasts
  merited that high-sounding title,) I was requested to bring from the
  cellar a decanter of their _favorite_ wine. You may be sure I did not
  mistake the cask, comrades. I drew from the cask which contained the
  corpse of Lagrange, a quantity of the wine, and holding it to the
  light, observed with intense satisfaction that it had assumed a darker
  tinge--it looked just like blood. For a moment I was tempted to
  _taste_ it; but damn me! bad and blood-thirsty as I was, I could not
  do _that_. The corpse had been soaking in the wine a full week; I was
  convinced that the liquid was pretty thoroughly impregnated with the
  flavor of my scientific improvement; and even my stomach revolted at
  the idea of drinking wine tainted and reeking with the dead flesh and
  blood of the man I had murdered.

  "I placed the wine on the table before my lady and the Captain; and I
  am free to confess that I trembled somewhat, in view of the
  possibility of their detecting, at the first taste, the trick which I
  had played them. Very nervous was I, when the Captain slowly poured
  out a wine glass full, and raised it to his lips; but how delighted
  was I, when he drained every drop of it with evident satisfaction,
  smacked his lips, and said to the lady--

  "'By my faith, Adelaide, 'tis a drink for the gods! How that wine
  improves by age! Never before has it tasted so rich, so fruity, so
  delicious! Observe what a firm body it has--what deep, rich color--a
  fitting hue for a soldier's beverage, for 'tis red as blood. Allow me
  to fill your ladyship's glass, that you may judge of its improved and
  wonderful merits.'

  "Her ladyship drank, and pronounced it excellent. I was in silent
  extacies. 'Drink the blood and essence of the murdered dead, ye fools,
  and call it sweet as honey to your taste!' I mentally said--'ere many
  days your souls shall be made sick with the knowledge of _what_ ye
  have drank!'

  "The guilty pair were not in the slightest degree reserved in my
  presence; on the contrary they jested, they talked, they indulged in
  familiarities before my face, in a manner that astonished me not a
  little. Comrades, none of you have seen much of fashionable life, I
  take it; for although you all belong to the very best society in Ann
  street, you can't reasonably be supposed to have much of an idea of
  society as 'tis seen in the mansion of an English nobleman. Therefore,
  if you don't think my yarn already too tedious, (it's as true as
  gospel, every word of it, upon the unsullied honor of a gentleman!)
  and if you'd like to know something of the capers of rich and
  fashionable people in high life, I'll tell you, in as few words as
  possible, some of the sayings and doings of my lady Hawley and her
  handsome lover, Captain St. Clair, as witnessed by me, at the time of
  which I have been speaking, in London."

Jew Mike paused to take breath and "wet his whistle;" while all his
listeners eagerly requested him to "go on" with his yarn. During the
progress of the narrative, an old, comical looking man, not over well
dressed, had entered the room, unnoticed; and seating himself in one
corner, he pulled a pipe from his pocket, lighted it, and began to
smoke, at the same time taking a keen and intelligent survey of the
motley assembly. Jew Mike, having quenched his thirst, resumed his
story. [The reader will be good enough to observe, that while we give
the substance of this worthy gentleman's narrative, we pretend not to
give his precise words. It is highly probable that he adapted his
language to the humble capacities of his low and illiterate auditors;
and we have taken the liberty to clothe his ideas in words better suited
to the more intelligent and refined understandings of our readers.]

  "Well, ladies and gentlemen," said Jew Mike--"as I was saying, Lady
  Hawley and Captain St. Clair got so bad that they never minded my
  presence a bit, but talked and acted before me with as much freedom as
  if I were both deaf and blind. My lady would dress herself in the
  Captain's uniform, which fitted her to a charm, for she was a large,
  magnificent woman, while he was of no great stature for a man,
  although exceedingly well-made and handsome. Not was that all: the
  Captain would attire himself in her splendid garments, and, but for
  his moustache and imperial, might have passed for a very handsome
  woman. And, to carry out the idea still further, my lady would pretend
  to take very wild and improper liberties with her lover, which he
  would affect to resent with all the indignation proper to his assumed
  sex. Then they would roll and tumble upon the soft carpet until they
  were quite spent and breathless; after which the Captain would run
  into the chamber, and conceal himself beneath, behind, or _in_ the
  bed; she would follow in pursuit, close the chamber door, and--I would
  apply my eye to the key-hole; but as I am a polite man, and as there
  are ladies present, (ahem!) you'll excuse me for not entering into
  particulars.

  "So much for their actions, now for their words. I was attending them
  at supper one night, and to say the truth they were both of them
  highly elevated in consequence of having too profusely imbibed their
  favorite wine, seasoned with the _essence of Lagrange,_ the name which
  I had privately given it. The Captain was very slightly attired, and
  my lady had on nothing but a very _intimate_ garment, which revealed
  rather more than it concealed--for they had just before been playing
  the very interesting game of "hide and seek," and had not yet resumed
  all their appropriate garments. I had formerly regarded lady Hawley as
  the very _beau ideal_ of all that was dignified, haughty and majestic;
  but that night she looked lewd and sensual, in an eminent degree, and
  appeared utterly reckless of all decency. She exposed her person in a
  manner that astonished me, and seemed to abandon herself without
  reserve, to all the promptings of her voluptuous nature. Her
  appearance, conversation and actions were not without their influence
  on me, you may be sure; and if ever I envied mortal man, it was that
  young officer, who could revel at will in the arms of the beautiful
  wanton at his side.

  "The Captain, reclining his head upon her fair bosom, said--

  "'And so Adelaide, in a few days your odious husband will return, and
  terminate these rapturous blisses. Why in the devil's name don't the
  accursed old man die of apoplexy, or break his neck, or get shot in a
  duel, or do something to relieve us of his hated interference with our
  stolen joys?'

  "'Ah, St. Clair,' answered the lady, with a glance of passion--'would
  that the old man were dead! Since I have tasted the sweets of your
  society--since I first listened to the music of your voice, and since
  first this heart beat tumultuously against yours, my whole nature is
  changed--my blood is turned to fire; my religion is my love for you;
  my deity is your image, and my heaven--is in your arms. Oh,' she
  suddenly exclaimed, as the rich blood mantled on her face and
  neck--'how terrible it is for a young and passionate woman to be
  linked in marriage to an old, impotent, cold, passionless being, who
  claims the name of _man_, but is not entitled to it! And then if she
  solaces herself with a lover--as she must, or die--she is continually
  agitated with fears of her husband's jealousy, and the dread of
  discovery. Like the thirsty traveller in a barren waste, her soul
  yearns for an ocean of delights--and pants and longs in vain.
  Husband--would that there was no such word, no such relation as it
  implies--'tis slavery, 'tis madness, to be chained for life to but one
  source of love, when a thousand streams would not satiate or overflow.
  Yet the world--the world--disgraces and condemns such as I am, if
  discovered; it points to my withered husband, and says--'there is your
  only _lawful_ love.' Heavens! the very thought of him sickens and
  disgusts me; _he_ a lover! He is no more to be compared to thee, my
  St. Clair, than is the withered leaf of autumn to the ripe peach or
  juicy pomegranate!'

  "'By all the gods of war,' exclaimed the Captain, fired with
  admiration at her beauty and the fervor of her passion for him, and
  straining her to his breast in a perfect phrenzy of transport--'thy
  husband shall be no longer a stumbling-block between us, angel of my
  soul; I will insult him--he will challenge me--we will fight--I am the
  best shot in Europe, and he will be shot through the heart, if the
  cold dotard have one. Yet stay--damn it, why not have him disposed of
  after the manner of the valet? Ha, ha! a good thought! Simpson, what
  say you? Will you do it for a couple of hundred guineas, and without
  laying claim to the favors of her ladyship?'

  "The last sentence was uttered with a very palpable sneer; it enraged
  me, for by it I was reminded of the manner in which I had been
  swindled out of the reward promised for my other murder. Besides, the
  man's cool villainy, and the woman's shameless lechery, disgusted me,
  bad as I was; for they belonged to that class which professes all the
  gentility, refinement and virtue in the world; and to hear the one
  glorying in adultery, and the other deliberately proposing murder,
  afforded such a damnable instance of the sublime hypocrisy peculiar to
  the "upper ten" of society, that I became desperately angry, and
  answered the Captain in a manner that astonished him.--You will
  remember, comrades, that as great a villain as I am, I am no
  hypocrite, and was never accused of being one. And yet hypocrisy
  prevails in every department of life. Look," continued Jew Mike,
  getting into a philosophical strain, and stroking his enormous beard
  with an air of profound complacency--"Look at that venerable looking
  old gentleman, who every Sabbath stands in his pulpit to declaim
  against wickedness and fleshy lusts. Mark his libidinous eye, as he
  follows that painted strumpet to her filthy den. There's hypocrisy.
  Then turn your eyes toward a sister city, and mark that grey-headed,
  sanctimonious editor, who every week solemnly prates of honesty,
  sobriety, and their kindred virtues. 'What an excellent man he is,'
  exclaim the whole tribe of fat, tea-drinking old women in mob-caps,
  raising their pious eyes and snuffy noses to heaven.--Ha, ha, ha! Why,
  ladies and gentlemen, that editor is so cursedly dishonest and so
  im--_mensely_ mean, that his hair wouldn't stay black, but turned to a
  dirty white before its time--so mean, his food won't digest easy--his
  shirt won't dry when washed--his clothes won't fit him--the cholera
  won't have him--musquitoes won't bite him--and if, after his lean
  carcass is huddled under the turf, his cunning little soul should
  attempt to crawl through the key-hole of hell's gate, the devil, whose
  lacky he has ever been, would kick him with as much disgust as this
  _fraction_ once displayed in kicking a poor wretch whom he had
  beggared, starved and ruined!

  "But I see, comrades, that you begin to grow impatient at this
  moralizing--and well you may, for 'tis always distasteful to look at
  such reptiles as we have been contemplating. Well, to take up the
  thread of my yarn, which I shall bring to a close as speedily as
  possible, for 'tis getting late.--When the Captain proposed that I
  should murder Lord Hawley, his and her ladyship's hypocrisy enraged me
  to such an extent, that I boldly looked him in the face, and said to
  him--

  "'Say, who is the greater villain, you or I? You, who prate of your
  birth, rank and position in life, and propose a murder, or I, making
  no pretensions whatever, I that have committed a murder at the
  instigation of one of your class, in the hope of reward? Look you,
  Captain; neither you nor your noble strumpet at your side shall bribe
  me to commit further crime. Wretches that you both are, false in honor
  and in truth, know that I am already fearfully revenged upon you--and
  your exposure is at hand. Another murder, indeed!--_have you not both
  drank blood enough?_'

  "This last sentence I uttered with such significance that the Captain
  started and turned pale. 'What mean you, scoundrel?' he demanded.

  "'Follow me, both of you, to the wine cellar!' I exclaimed in answer,
  fully determined to reveal the awful truth to them at once. Astonished
  and subdued by the impressiveness of my manner and the singularity of
  my words, they obeyed. Having seized a light from the table, I led
  the way to the cellar, and advanced to the cask wherein rotted the
  remains of the murdered Lagrange.

  "The scene must have been a striking one, comrades. There was the vast
  vault, dimly lighted by a single wax taper; around were many black and
  mouldering casks containing the juice of the grape, some of which was
  of a great age. Before one of those casks, much larger than the
  others, stood I, brandishing aloft the implement with which I was
  about to break open that strange tomb, and disclose its awful secret.
  Beside me, dressed in the slight garments I have already described,
  their pale countenances expressive of mingled curiosity and fear,
  stood Lady Hawley and Captain St. Clair, whom I thus addressed--

  "'This cask, may it please your ladyship and the Captain, contains the
  wine which you both are so extremely fond of. You have observed, with
  some surprise, that its flavor has of late much improved. I shall now,
  with your permission, show you the cause of that improvement, for
  which--ha, ha, ha!--you are solely indebted to me. The opening of this
  cask will disclose a mystery that you have never dreamed of. Look!'

  "They both strained forward in eager expectation. A few blows sufficed
  to remove the head of the cask. Horror! a sickening stench arose, and
  there became visible the headless trunk of a human being. That portion
  of the body which was not immersed in the wine, was putrid. 'Look
  here!' cried I, in mad triumph, plunging my arm into the cask, and
  drawing forth the ghastly head of Lagrange. I held aloft the horrid
  trophy of my vengeance; there were the dull, staring eyes, the
  distorted features, and drops of wine oozed from between the set
  teeth. With a long, loud shriek, her ladyship fell to the ground
  insensible; muttering fierce curses on me, the Captain turned to raise
  her, and profiting by the opportunity, I escaped from the cellar and
  fled from the house. Making the best of my way to the 'Jolly Thieves,'
  in St. Giles, I sought safety and concealment there, where I had ample
  leisure to mature my future plans.

  "In a day or two I saw it announced in one of the newspapers that a
  cask had been found floating in the river Thames, which on opening was
  found to contain the body and head of a man, and a quantity of wine.
  The circumstance gave rise to the supposition that the body had been
  procured by some surgeon for dissection, and for some reason had been
  abandoned and thrown overboard. The cask and its contents had, of
  course, been thrown into the river through the agency of the Captain;
  and the affair gave rise to neither excitement nor investigation.

  "Meanwhile, Lord Hawley had returned to town. No sooner was I apprised
  of the fact, than I sent him the following blunt and somewhat rude
  epistle--for I felt too keen a thirst for vengeance on my enemies to
  admit of my being very choice or respectful in my language, even to a
  nobleman:--

    "'My lord,--you are a cuckold. Do you doubt it? I can prove it,
    beyond the shadow of a doubt. Captain Eugene St. Clair is your
    lady's lover--she is his mistress. For a long time past, she has,
    during your absence, received him into her chamber. You are laughed
    at by the pretty pair, as a withered, impotent old dotard. You know
    the handwriting of your late valet, Lagrange. Accompanying this is a
    letter written by him, to you; before he had an opportunity of
    sending it to you, he was _made away with_, through the
    instrumentality of your amiable wife, who had every reason to
    suppose that he would betray her. The tale trumped up by the noble
    harlot about the Frenchman's having stolen your property and fled,
    is a lie. My lord, I think you have reason to be grateful to me for
    exposing the guilty parties; if so, any pecuniary reward which you
    may see fit to send me, by one of your servants, (I am at the _Jolly
    Thieves_, in St. Giles,) will be gratefully accepted by

                                                       MICHAEL SIMPSON.'

  "I thus freely disclosed my place of concealment to his lordship,
  because I apprehended no danger to myself, knowing that the nobleman
  was a man of honor, who would not injure the person who had rendered
  him such an important service as to put him on the track to avenge his
  wrongs. And I also anticipated receiving a liberal reward for my
  information; nor was I disappointed,--for that very evening a servant
  in the Hawley livery called at the _Jolly Thieves_, and presented me
  with a small package, which on opening I found to contain bank notes
  to the amount of five hundred pounds, and the following note, which
  though in his lordship's handwriting, bore neither address nor
  signature:--

    "'Here is the reward of your information. Accept, also, my thanks.
    The proof you have furnished of the truth of your statement, admits
    of no doubt. I know how to punish the w**e and her blackguard
    paramour. You had better leave the country, for I can surmise what
    agency _you_ had in the affair of Lagrange's disappearance; but as
    you were the tool of others, I stoop not to molest you. Should the
    event, however, gain notoriety, _the law_ of course, will not prove
    equally considerate.'

  "I was overjoyed! Five hundred pounds, and the certainty of having
  ruined my enemies! That night I gave a sumptuous supper to all the
  frequenters of the _Jolly Thieves_; and a jolly time we had of it,
  I'll assure you, comrades. The most respectable men in London were
  present at the feast; there were nine cracksmen, five highwaymen,
  twelve pickpockets, two murderers, three gentlemen who had escaped
  from transportation, and a smart sprinkling of small workmen, in the
  way of _fogle hunters_, (handkerchief thieves,) and _body snatchers_,
  (grave robbers). Full forty of us sat down to a smoking supper of
  stewed tripe and onions,--ah, how my mouth waters to think of it now!
  And then the _lush_!--gallons of ale, rivers of porter, and oceans of
  grog! Every gentleman present volunteered a song; and when it came to
  be my turn, I gave the following, which, (being something of a poet,)
  I had myself composed, expressly for the occasion, to the air of the
  _Brave Old Oak_:--


  SONG OF THE JOLLY THIEF.

    "A song to the thief, the jolly, jolly thief,
      Who has plied his trade so long;--
    May he ne'er come down to the judge's frown,
      Or the cells of Newgate strong.
    'Tis a noble trade, where a living's made
    By an art so bold and free;
    May he never be snug in a cold, stone jug,
    Or swing from a two-trunk'd tree!

    CHORUS
    Then here's to the thief, the jolly thief
    Who plies his trade so bold--
    May he never see a turnkey's key,
    Or sleep in a prison cold!

  "This song was received with the most uproarious applause by the
  jovial crew; and we separated at a late hour, after giving three
  groans for the new police.

  "A few days passed away. I never neglected each morning to carefully
  peruse all the newspapers; and just as I was beginning to despair of
  ever seeing any announcement calculated to assure me that my enemies
  were overthrown, I had the intense satisfaction of reading the
  following paragraph in the _Times_:--

  "'AN AFFAIR OF HONOR. Yesterday morning, his lordship Viscount Hawley
  and the Honorable Captain Eugene St. Clair had a hostile meeting in
  the suburbs of London. Circumstances of a delicate nature, of which we
  are not at liberty to speak at present, are reported to have led to
  the difficulty between the noble gentlemen. At the first fire Captain
  St. Clair fell, and upon examination it was found that he had been
  shot through the heart. He died instantly. His lordship was uninjured,
  and immediately departed for the Continent unaccompanied by her
  ladyship.'

  "I danced with delight when I read this paragraph. 'My vengeance is
  already half accomplished,' thought I. But what had become of Lady
  Hawley? The newspapers, from day to day and from week to week, were
  silent with respect to her fate. At length I began to fear that her
  ladyship, after all, was destined to escape uninjured by my endeavors
  to effect her ruin. Was I right? You shall see.

  "Nearly two years passed away, during which time, with the aid of my
  five hundred pounds, I had set up a first-rate public house in a
  populous and respectable neighborhood, and was making money. I have
  little doubt but that the sign of '_The Red Cask_' is still remembered
  in that vicinity--for that was the name which, actuated by a strange
  whim, I had given to my tavern; and the same was illustrated by a huge
  swinging sign in front, on which was painted the representation of a
  large cask overflowing with blood--which, I need scarcely tell you,
  was a sly and humorous allusion to the affair of Lagrange's
  murder.--Well, one cold, stormy winter's night, when the wind was
  howling like ten thousand devils around the house, I was seated in my
  comfortable tap-room, making myself extremely happy over a reeking
  jarum of hot rum punch. I was alone, for the hour was late, and all my
  guests had departed; when suddenly, during a pause in the clatter of
  the elements, I heard a low, timid knock at my outer door, which faced
  on the street.--Supposing it to be either some thirsty policeman, or a
  belated traveller anxious to escape from the fury of the storm, I
  arose and unbarred the door; as I opened it, a fierce gust of wind
  rushed in, so piercing cold, that it seemed to chill me to the very
  marrow of my bones; and at the same moment I beheld a human form
  crouching down under the narrow archway over the door, as if vainly
  endeavoring to shield herself from the fury of the tempest. I knew it
  was a woman, for I caught a glimpse at an old bonnet and tattered
  shawl. She shivered with the cold, which even made my teeth chatter,
  stout and rugged as I was. 'What do you want?' I demanded roughly--for
  I was impatient at having been thus unseasonably interrupted while
  paying my devotions to the mug of hot rum punch, in front of a rousing
  fire. As she made no immediate reply, I was about to bid her begone
  and shut the door, when she said, in a faint, yet earnest tone--'Oh,
  sir, for God's sake, as you hope for mercy yourself hereafter, let me
  come in for a moment--only a moment--that I may warm my benumbed and
  freezing limbs!' I paused a moment; I am not naturally hard-hearted,
  unless there is something to be gained by it; and besides, I felt a
  kind of curiosity to see what sort of a creature it was who wandered
  the streets that awful night, destitute and houseless; so I bade her
  come in, and with difficulty she followed me into the tap-room;
  placing a seat for her near the fire, I resumed my own, and while
  leisurely sipping my punch, a good opportunity was afforded me to
  examine her narrowly. She was probably about twenty years of age, but
  much suffering had made her look older. Though her features were worn
  and wasted, and though her cheeks were hollow by the pinchings of
  want, she was beautiful; her eyes were large, lustrous and eminently
  expressive, and two or three stray curls of luxuriant hair peeped from
  beneath her old, weather stained bonnet. Her form was tall, and
  graceful in its outlines; but what particularly struck me was the
  singular whiteness and delicacy of her hands, which plainly indicated
  that she had never been accustomed to labor of any kind. Her dress was
  wretched in the extreme, and was scarce sufficient to cover her
  nakedness, much less shield her from the inclemency of the
  weather,--nay, my inquisitive researches soon convinced me that the
  miserable gown she wore was, excepting an old shawl, her _only
  garment_--no under clothing, not even stockings,--and her feet (I
  noticed that they were small and symmetrical,) were only separated
  from the cold sidewalk by thin and worn-out shoes.--Yet,
  notwithstanding all her poverty and wretchedness, there was about her
  a look of subdued pride, which, though in strange contrast with her
  garb, well became her general air, and regular handsome features.
  Everything about her, excepting her dress, convinced me that she had
  fallen from better days, and, somehow, that look of pride struck me as
  being strangely familiar; yet I racked my brain in vain to recall from
  the dreamy past some image that I could identify with the female
  before me, who sat in front of my blazing fire and warmed her chilled
  limbs with every appearance of the most intense satisfaction.

  "Her superior air commanded my involuntary respect. 'Madam,' said I,
  'are you hungry?' She eagerly answered in the affirmative; I placed
  provisions before her, and she ate with an appetite almost ravenous. I
  then gave her some mulled wine, which seemed to revive her greatly;
  and she returned me her thanks in a manner so lady-like and refined (a
  manner, however, which insensibly partook of a peculiar and indirect
  kind of _hauteur_, as remarkable in her tone as in the expression of
  her features,) that I was more than ever satisfied that she had
  descended to her present wretched situation, certainly from a
  respectable, if not from a very superior, order of society.

  "'You have benefitted me greatly, sir, and I thank you,' said she,
  inclining her head towards me with an air almost condescending. 'I
  assure you, you have not bestowed your _assistance_ (she didn't say
  _charity_, observe!) upon a habitual mendicant or common person. I am
  by birth a lady; you will pardon me for declining to state the causes
  of my present condition. Again I thank you.'

  "The devil, comrades! here was a starving, freezing beggar woman whom
  I had picked out of the street, and warmed and fed, playing the
  condescending, reserved lady, forsooth! and abashing and humbling me
  by her d----d lofty, proud looks! Ha, ha, ha! and yet I liked it,
  mightily; the joke was too good; and so I continued to 'madam' her,
  until at last I actually detected her on the very point of calling me
  'fellow;' but fortunately for her, she checked herself in time to
  escape being turned into the street forthwith.

  "And yet the superiority of her air and the haughtiness of her manner
  had for me an indescribable charm, no less than her beauty; and I
  resolved, if possible, to make her my mistress, for I doubted not that
  when she should become nourished and strengthened by proper food and
  rest, she would make a very desirable companion for a man of my
  amorous temperament. However, I did not broach the subject at that
  time, but contented myself with seeing that she was comfortably
  provided for that night, under the charge of one of the females of the
  house, to whom I gave money with which to provide the strange lady
  with proper and respectable clothing in the morning. The next day I
  had occasion to go away at an early hour, and did not return until
  late in the afternoon, and on entering my little parlor, I was
  surprised at beholding a lady, handsomely dressed, who advanced
  towards me with an air of dignified politeness. Her rich hair was most
  tastefully arranged; her neat dress closely fitted a slender but
  elegant shape, and I was struck with the dazzling fairness and purity
  of her complexion, and the patrician cast of her features. A second
  glance told me it was the female whom I had relieved the previous
  night; and I became aware of the fact that the strange lady was no
  other than Lady Adelaide Hawley!

  "She did not recognize me, for I was much changed, in consequence of
  having removed the huge beard which I had worn, while in her husband's
  service. You may imagine my triumph at finding the proud lady an
  inmate of my house and a dependent on my bounty, under circumstances
  so humiliating to her and so gratifying to me; and you may well
  believe that I lost no time in giving her to understand the nature of
  the reward I expected in return for my hospitality. Would you believe
  it? She actually repulsed me with scorn, and began to talk of her
  birth, and the superiority of her rank to mine! Her confounded pride
  had now become altogether ridiculous; and somewhat enraged, I told her
  who I was. She started, regarded me for a moment with a scrutinizing
  look, and burst into tears, saying--'It is so, indeed! My punishment
  is just; I am humbled and degraded before the very menial I despised.
  Take, me, Simpson; do with me as you will; crime levels all ranks. Yet
  stay; I am still feeble; delay the consummation of your triumph for
  one week. During that period I shall regain the strength I have lost,
  and the beauty that has faded; then shall I be a fitting partner for
  your bed.' I consented; two or three days passed, and I was rejoiced
  to perceive that she daily grew in strength and beauty, and was fast
  regaining that voluptuousness of person which had formerly
  distinguished her. She related to me, at my request, the particulars
  of her downfall. She had been cast off by her husband and rejected by
  her relations with scorn and curses, when the fact of her adultery
  with St. Clair was discovered.--Entirely friendless and without
  resources, she was compelled to place herself under the protection of
  a gentleman of fashion and pleasure, who rioted on her luxuriant
  charms for a brief season, until possession and excess produced
  satiety, the sure forerunner of disgust--she was then thrown aside as
  a worthless toy, to make room for some fresh favorite. Rendered
  desperate by her situation, she became an _aristocratic courtezan_,
  freely sacrificing her person to every nobleman and gentleman of rank
  who chose to pay liberally for her favors. In this manner she
  subsisted for a time in luxury--but at last, her patrons (as is always
  the case) grew tired of her; she had become

    "Like a thrice-told tale,
    Vexing the dull ears of a drowsy man,"

  and was again thrown upon the world without resources. Her indomitable
  pride still clung to her, through all her misfortunes; and though she
  plainly saw that her amours with the aristocracy were at an end
  forever, she disdained to seek meaner lovers among the humbler
  classes. Every offer made to her by men of medium rank, was spurned by
  the proud harlot with supreme contempt. 'I am a companion for
  nobility--not for the grovelling masses,' she would reply, in answer
  to all such offers; nor did the pinchings of want and hunger even for
  a moment shake her resolution, or disarm her prejudices. She might,
  had she been disposed, have still lived in comfort and even splendor,
  by becoming an inmate of some fashionable brothel; but as in such an
  establishment she would be required to bestow her favors
  indiscriminately on men of all ranks, who could pay for the same, she
  recoiled from the idea with disgust. Thus did the pride of this
  singular woman triumph over her wants and poverty; when on the very
  verge of starvation, with the means of relief within her grasp, the
  thought--'I am of noble birth,' would sustain her, and enable her to
  resist successfully the longings of hunger and the sufferings
  incidental to a homeless life. No scrupulous delicacy prevented her
  from accepting any assistance, pecuniary or otherwise, that might be
  offered to her; she even did not hesitate to ask for charity, in tones
  of _affected_ humility; but the all-pervading principle, PRIDE OF
  BIRTH, implanted within her breast, imperiously restrained her from
  bestowing the favors of her patrician person upon 'vulgar plebeians;'
  and, in consequence, she had sunk lower and lower in want, destitution
  and misery, until driven, on that terrible winter's night, to
  supplicate for a slight and temporary relief at the door of one whom
  she had formerly so much despised, but on whom she was now so
  dependent.

  "It was a cold evening, and her ladyship and myself were seated before
  a comfortable fire. An abundance of wholesome food, and every comfort
  which it was in my power to procure for her, had improved her
  appearance greatly. Her form had regained much of its natural
  roundness, and her countenance had recovered all its original beauty.
  She was gazing pensively into the fire; while I regarded _her_ with an
  eye of admiration, and a heart full of amorous longings. At length I
  broke the silence. 'To-morrow night, madam,' said I, 'the week for
  which you stipulated, will have expired.' She sighed deeply, and
  murmured, in an almost inaudible tone, 'It is so, indeed.' Noticing
  the sigh which accompanied her words, a frown of displeasure gathered
  on my brow; but it was almost instantly dispelled, in the delight I
  felt at my approaching happiness. 'Yes,' I continued, 'to-morrow night
  I shall be the happiest of men; but madam, why delay until to-morrow
  night that felicity which may as well be enjoyed to-night? You can
  never be more beautiful or more voluptuous than you are at this
  moment.' During the utterance of these words, I had drawn my chair
  close to hers, and encircled her enchanting waist with my arm; I felt
  her heart throbbing wildly beneath my hand, which had invaded the
  snowy regions of her swelling charms--and I took it to be the wild
  throbbing of passion. We were alone--not a soul was stirring in the
  house; propitious moment! How longingly I gazed upon her dewy lips,
  which reminded me of the lines in Moore's _Anacreon_--which, I
  suppose, is all Latin and Greek to you, comrades:--

    "Her lips, so rich in blisses,
    Sweet petitioners for kisses!
    Pouting nest of bland persuasion,
    Ripely suing Love's invasion."

  And they did not long sue in vain; for such vigorous salute as I gave
  them would have put even Captain St. Clair to the blush. While thus
  tasting the honey of the sweetest and most luscious pair of lips in
  the three kingdoms, I fancied that I felt her trembling with delight
  in my arms; but too soon did I become aware that she was only
  shuddering with disgust; for by a vigorous effort she struggled from
  my embrace, and, breathless and panting, said--'Not now, Simpson, not
  now, I entreat, I implore you! To-morrow night, the week's exemption
  which I craved, will be completed,--then--then--at this hour--you
  may--you will find me in my chamber; _then_, so help me God! I will
  offer no resistance; but now, not now!' I surveyed her ladyship with
  some surprise; her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and her face, neck and
  bosom were suffused with a ruddy, glowing hue. 'As you please, madam,'
  I coldly rejoined, for I was provoked at her violent and unexpected
  resistance--'as you please; but remember, I am no longer to be trifled
  with. To-morrow night be it, then; and see that you do not repeat this
  obstinacy of conduct, for I will then accomplish my object, even if I
  have to resort to force and violence!' '_I will not then resist you_,
  I swear it!' said she, with much solemnity of manner, and then
  added--'one favor I will ask of you: permit me to remain all day
  to-morrow in my chamber, and do not even attempt to see me, until
  twelve o'clock to-morrow night, at which hour you will find me waiting
  for your appearance.' I agreed to this request; and she bade me
  good-night in a tone almost cheerful, as she left the room to seek her
  chamber.

  "The next day and the next evening passed;--the midnight hour arrived.
  I closed my house, and repaired to the chamber which had been
  assigned to the use of my lady guest. Finding the door unlocked, I
  softly entered the apartment; it was a spacious room, tolerably well
  furnished, and the bed was shrouded by muslin curtains; a lighted
  candle stood upon the table; glancing around I saw nobody. 'She is in
  bed,' thought I, and every nerve in my body thrilled with delight at
  the thought. I approached the bed, and drew aside the curtain. There
  she lay--but how very still! 'She sleeps,' thought I, somewhat
  surprised; and bending over in the dim light of the unsnuffed candle,
  I kissed her lips--heavens! what made them so very cold--and why was
  the hand which I had lasciviously laid upon her bosom, dampened with a
  warm liquid? I rushed to the table, seized the candle, and returned to
  the bed-side. There she lay--DEAD! The life-blood was welling from an
  awful gash in her left breast; her right hand grasped a dagger--the
  instrument of her death; the bed on which she lay was literally soaked
  with her blood, and my hand was stained with it. Then I comprehended
  her words--'_I will not then resist you!_' I staggered back,
  horror-stricken; the shadow of remorse for the first time darkened my
  soul; I would have wrested the dagger from her lifeless hand, and
  plunged it into my own heart, but in the agonies of death she had
  clutched it too firmly to admit of my easily tearing it from her
  grasp. I turned from the bed, and again placed the candle upon the
  table; I sat down by it, with the cold perspiration starting from
  every pore. Ha! what is this? a letter, and addressed to me? I had not
  observed it before. Eagerly I tore it open, and instantly recognized
  the elegant handwriting of her ladyship--not a blot, not a misformed
  letter marred the beautiful chirography of the missive; it was written
  with the same grace and precision that had in former days
  characterized her ladyship's notes of invitation to her splendid
  parties. As near as I can remember, it read as follows:--

  "'Death is preferable to the dishonor of your vile embraces. Were you
  a man of birth, gladly would I accept the protection of your arms; but
  Lady Adelaide Hawley can never become the mistress of a menial. I
  welcome death, as it will preserve me from staining the purity of my
  noble blood by cohabitation with such as _thou_ art. May heaven pity
  and forgive me!'

  "After I had read this characteristic note, I reflected deeply upon
  the tragic event--her suicide. Innocent as I was of her death, might I
  not be arrested as her murderer?[B] Circumstances were strong against
  me; how could I prove my innocence? Many men have been hung on
  circumstantial evidence less strong. Though I had escaped detection on
  a murder which I had actually committed, I now feared that I should
  suffer for a deed of which I was not guilty. The gallows arose before
  my excited fancy, in all its terrors; my throat seemed encircled by
  the fatal rope.--I determined to fly the country; instantly acting
  upon this impulse, I left the chamber, and hastily collected together
  all my money (which was considerable) and valuables. Then I left the
  house, and seeking a safe asylum in an obscure party of the city,
  remained there until an opportunity was afforded me to take ship to
  America. I arrived here--soon spent all my money--was hauled up for a
  murder--was convicted of manslaughter only, and did the State service
  for a period of ten years in the stone institution at Charlestown;
  served out my time--and here I am. Now, comrades, you have heard my
  story; that it has been a long one, and a dry one, I grant--at all
  events, the narration of it has made _me_ confoundedly dry. Here's a
  health to jolly thieves all the world over, and confusion to honesty,
  the law, and the police!"

[B] Acute and sagacious as Jew Mike was, it did not occur to him, in his
trepidation and alarm, that the note which he had just read, and which
was in Lady Hawley's own handwriting, would clearly exonerate him from
all suspicion of his having murdered her. But guilt is sometimes
singularly short-sighted, and Mike, as cunning a villain as he was,
threw aside or perhaps destroyed the only evidence he could have
possibly produced to substantiate his innocence.

Jew Mike did honor to his own toast in a bumper of brandy; nor were the
others backward in following his example. Sow Nance, who had just awoke
from a sound sleep, swore it was the most capital story she had ever
heard in her life, which opinion she enforced by many oaths that we need
not repeat. 'Charcoal Bill' and 'Indian Marth' were loud in their
expressions of delight; and Jew Mike had the satisfaction of perceiving
that he had pleased his audience, and made himself the hero of the
night. A general conversation followed, which lasted until the Jew, as
chairman of the meeting and Captain of the _Grabbers_, called the
assembly to order, and announced that Sow Nance had the
floor;--whereupon silence was restored, and that lady gave utterance to
the following words, in a hoarse voice.--Her remarks were copiously
interspersed with oaths, which, out of respect for the reader's feelings
and our own credit, we omit:--

  "Well, gals and fellers, being as how my Mike here has been a blowin'
  off his gas, I might as well blow mine. You all know how I first came
  to be se-duced, don't yer? It was a rich State street lawyer wot first
  did it, when I was 'leven years old. Ha, ha, ha! a jolly old cock he
  was, with a bald head and a face all over red pimples--he used to be
  mighty fond of us girls, I tell yer. Maybe I didn't use to suck the
  money out of him, by threatenin' to _blow_ on him--well, I did! Yer
  all know how I had a young-'un, and how--ha, ha, ha!--the brat was
  found, the next day after it was born, dead in the _Black Sea_; it
  never died no nat'ral death that young-'un didn't, yer can bet yer
  life; the old Cor'ner wasn't far out of the way when he said in his
  werdict that the child had been strangled! The State street lawyer was
  its father, I believe, tho' I can't say for certain, I had so many
  partick'lar friends; for if I _ain't_ werry good-looking, I've got
  winnin' ways. I came from a first-rate family, I did; my father was
  hung for killing my mother--one of my brothers has also danced a horn
  pipe in the air, and another is under sentence of death, off South,
  for beating a woman's brains out with a fire shovel, and choking her
  five children with a dishcloth. He's one of the true breed, he is. I
  ain't no dishonor to my family, either; for besides that strangling
  business, (mind, I didn't say _I_ did it!) I once pitched a drunken
  sailor down stairs, which accidentally broke his neck, after I had
  lightened his pockets of what small change he had about him.--To tell
  the honest truth, I'm rather too ugly to make much money by doing
  business myself; so I've gone into the business of picking up young,
  good-looking gals, coaxing them off, and getting them into the houses
  of my regular customers, who pay me well, at so much a head. My best
  customer is the rich Mr. Tickels, who lives in South street; many's
  the young gal I've carried to him, and many's the dollar I've earned
  by it. Look here--do you see this five dollar gold piece? I earned it
  this morning by coaxing a gal to go with me to Mr. Tickel's house; she
  was a little beauty, I tell yer, and I'll bet she won't come out of
  that house the same as she went in, no how. She was a fruit gal, but
  she wasn't one of us; her name, I believe was Fanny--"

"Blood and battering-rams!"

This singular exclamation was made by the comical looking old man, who
had entered the "Pig Pen" unperceived, and had been seated in the corner
unnoticed by any of the company. He had arisen from his seat, and stood
in an attitude which betokened profound interest and great astonishment.
For a moment the whole gang, male and female, regarded him with surprise
and suspicion; then Jew Mike sprang forward, seized him by the throat,
shook him strongly, and in a rough, fierce voice, demanded:--

"Death and the devil, old scoundrel, how came you here? Who are
you?--are you a police spy--one of Marshal Threekey's gang? Speak,
d----n you, before I break every bone in your accursed old carcass!"

It was a singular contrast, between the great, powerful ruffian, and the
little old man--nevertheless, the latter individual (who, the reader
need scarcely be told, was no other than our eccentric friend, the
Corporal,) did not tamely submit to such rough treatment; extricating
himself, with much agility, from the grasp of the Jew, he dealt that
worthy such a quick and stinging blow in the region of his left ear,
that it laid him sprawling on the floor, at the same moment exclaiming--

"Skulls and skeletons! do you take me for a child? Nay, come on again,
if you are so disposed, and by the nose of Napoleon! I'll beat you to a
jelly!"

It is difficult to say what might have been the fate of the gallant
Corporal, had a second encounter taken place, for the Jew arose from the
floor with a howl of rage, his dark face livid with passion. But,
fortunately for our friend, at this crisis there stepped forward a big,
brawny, double-jointed Irishman, with a fist like a shoulder of mutton;
this gentleman gloried in the title of 'Cod-mouth Pat,' in humorous
allusion to the peculiar formation of his 'potato trap,' an aperture in
his head which might have been likened either to a cellar door or a coal
scuttle.

"Och, be the powers, Misther Jew Mike," said Pat, placing himself
between the Corporal and his gigantic antagonist--"be asy, and lave the
owld gintlman alone; he's a brave little man intirely, and it's myself
that'll fight for him. Whoop! show me the man that 'od harm my friend,
and be the holy poker, and that's a good oath, I'll raise a lump on his
head as big as the hill of Howth, and that's no small one!"

The good-hearted Irishman's interference saved the Corporal from a
severe beating, if not from being killed outright--for the Jew dared not
engage in a personal conflict with a man of Pat's resolution and
strength. Yet any ordinary observer could not have failed to notice the
look of deadly vengeance that gleamed in his eyes, indicating that he
would not soon forget or forgive the blow he had received.

At that moment, a loud noise resembling the crash of decanters and
glasses, mingled with loud oaths and yells of defiance, which sounds
proceeded from the adjoining dance cellar, plainly indicated that one of
those "bloody rows" for which Ann street is famous, had commenced. Such
a scene was too much the element of Cod-mouth Pat for him to remain
tranquil during its progress; with an unearthly yell he grasped a short,
thick cudgel which he always carried, and leaving the "Pig Pen," plunged
into the thickest of the fight. Many a black eye and broken head
attested the vigor of his arm; but the glory of his achievements did not
screen him from being borne to the watchhouse, nor did his valor prevent
the magistrate in the morning from inflicting upon him a very decent
fine, which drew from him the indignant remark that--"'Tis a great
country, any how, where a man can't have a ginteel bit of a fight
without paying for it!"

The Corporal's case again looked desperate, when Pat left the "Pig Pen,"
for he was then without a protector from the vengeance of Jew Mike. But
the Jew did not appear inclined to assail the old man personally, though
his ferocious eyes still gleamed with rage. Standing apart, he held a
whispered conversation with Sow Nance, during which the Corporal could
occasionally overhear the words--'spy,' 'danger,' 'police,' 'murder,'
and the like. At last they seemed to arrive at some definite conclusion;
for the Jew came forward, and said--

"Old fellow, whoever you are, you have heard too much of our private
discourse, for our safety.--We must confine you, until such time as you
may succeed in convincing us that you meant no foul play in thus
intruding into our secret rendezvous."

The Corporal began to speak, but the Jew fiercely commanded him to be
silent. Meanwhile, Sow Nance had procured a rope, and ere the old man
was aware of her intention, she had seized and pinioned his arms with
great dexterity.

"Into the _Black Hole_ with him!" shouted the Jew. The poor Corporal was
hurried from the room, through a low, narrow door, along a dark, winding
passage, and soon found himself in a spacious cellar, crowded with
negroes, who were drinking "blue ruin" and smoking vile cigars. This
resort of the "colored society" was a place of the most degraded and
vicious kind, frequented by the lowest of the black population of Ann
street. At that period, respectable public houses for the exclusive
accommodation of the colored aristocracy, were very rare; and it is only
recently that the enterprise and public spirit of Mr. William E. Ambush
has established a _recherche_ and elegant Saloon in Belknap street,
bearing the poetical cognomen of "_The Gazelle_." We allude to this
latter place for the purpose of showing that however degraded may be the
colored denizens of Ann street, and however low their resorts, there are
nevertheless those of the same complexion who are elevated in their
notions of propriety, and strictly exclusive in their associations.

"Hallo, here--where's Pete York?" demanded the Jew, looking around upon
the sable assembly with an air of authority.

A small, very black and hideous looking negro stepped forward in answer
to the name, with a grin that would not have disgraced the very devil
himself.

"Dat's me, master," said he. (It may be as well to remark here, that
this negro was soon afterwards sentenced to be hung for an atrocious
murder, in Ann street. His sentence was, however, commuted by the
Governor to imprisonment for life. He is now comfortably located in the
Charlestown State Prison.)

"Well, then, you black scorpion, I wish you to take charge of this old
fellow, and let him not escape, as you value your life. Keep him here
safely for a day or two, and I'll reward you well for your trouble.
Sooner than let him escape, _kill him_--do you hear?"

The negro _did_ hear, and perfectly comprehended, also. He replied not
in words, but in expressive pantomime. Drawing a knife from his belt, he
passed his finger approvingly along its glittering edge--then he drew it
lightly across his own throat, in the immediate vicinity of his
windpipe; by which actions he meant to intimate that should the old
gentleman, with whose guardianship he had the honor to be entrusted,
manifest the least inclination to "give him the slip," he, Mr. Peter
York, would, in the most scientific manner, merely cut his throat from
ear to ear, as a particular token of his warm personal regard. Jew Mike
appeared perfectly satisfied with the assurance thus eloquently
conveyed, and, accompanied by Sow Nance, left the cellar, leaving the
Corporal to the tender mercies of as desperate a band of villains and
cut-throats as ever prowled about in the dark alleys and underground
dens of Ann street.

"Now, my good fellow," said the old gentleman, addressing the negro
whose prisoner he now was--"you had better instantly unbind me, and
suffer me to take my departure from this infernal trap. Give me my
liberty, and I will pay you ten times the sum that your Jew friend can
afford to give you for detaining me here. What say you?"

"Oh, you shut up!" responded Pete York--"you s'pose I'm going to b'lieve
any such gas as dat? You look like paying more money than Jew Mike, and
not a decent coat on your back! Hush up your mouf, or you'll get this
knife a-twixt your ribs in less than no time."

The black ruffian, in order to convince his prisoner that he meant what
he said, pressed the sharp point of his knife so closely to the
Corporal's breast, that it penetrated the skin. Mr. York, having thus
practically admonished his victim to preserve silence, (which the
Corporal thought it best to do, under the circumstances,) called to
another negro, who was indulging in deep potations at the bar, in
company with his "ladye love," a wench whose personal attractions
consisted of a knotty head, flat nose, and mouth of immoderate
dimensions--and that she _was_ attractive to her lover, was afterwards
manifested by the fact that in a fit of jealousy he murdered a rival in
her affections; for which amusement he was hung in the yard of the
Leverett street jail on the 25th day of May, 1849, in the presence of a
very jovial party, who were highly delighted with the exhibition.

"Wash Goode," cried Mr. Peter York, addressing that gentleman with a
familiar abbreviation of his patriotic Christian name--"look yeah, a
moment, will you nigger?"

Mr. Washington Goode crossed the cellar, and desired to know in what way
he could be serviceable to his particular friend and boon companion, Mr.
Peter York. The latter gentleman explained himself in a few words.

"Jew Mike has put this old white man under my charge," said he, "for a
few days, and I don't know where the h----l to keep him. What shall I do
with the old son of a----?"

"Why, put him in de coal-hole, to be sure," replied the other, with a
boisterous laugh at his own ingenious suggestion.

Mr. York signified his approval of this plan, and dragging the poor
Corporal into the dark passage which he had traversed in going to the
cellar, he seized a large iron ring, opened a trap door, and violently
pushed his victim into the dark and yawning chasm. Then he shut down the
trap door, securely fastened it and departed.

The unfortunate Corporal fell a distance of about eight feet, and landed
upon a soft, damp bed of earth, with but little personal injury. It will
be recollected that his arms had been pinioned by Sow Nance; but, by a
desperate effort, the old man succeeded in freeing himself from his
bonds. He then essayed to examine and explore the dismal pit into which
he had been thrown--which, in the intense darkness that prevailed, was a
task of no little danger. However, he cautiously began to grope about,
and soon became satisfied that the place was of considerable extent.

It will readily be inferred that our friend Corporal Grimsby was a man
of dauntless courage; but, notwithstanding this, a thrill of terror
nearly paralysed his limbs, when, while exploring the dungeon into which
he had been thrown, his feet came in contact with an object, which, on
examination, he discovered to be a human skeleton. The dread of being
left to starve and perish in that dismal den, in such awful company,
well nigh overcame both his philosophy and courage; and seating himself
upon the damp earth, he abandoned himself to those feelings of
despondency naturally engendered by his situation.

A man placed in such circumstances, in the midst of intense darkness,
can "take no note of time." An hour of horror will sometimes seem an
age, while a week of unalloyed pleasure will often glide by seemingly
with the same rapidity as a few fleeting moments. It may have been one
hour--it may have been ten--that the Corporal sat on the floor of his
dungeon; when suddenly he was startled by the noise of the trap-door
above his head being opened, and looking up, he beheld Sow Nance gazing
down upon him, holding in her hand a lantern. After regarding him
intently for a few moments, she thus addressed him:--

"Say, old chap, what'll yer give me if I help yer to 'scape from this
hole? Yer don't look as if yer had any money--but if yer have, pay me
well, and I'll get you out."

"Lower down a ladder or a rope, and raise me from this infernal trap,
and you shall have this purse--see, 'tis full of gold!" replied the
Corporal, at the same time producing from his pocket a purse which was
evidently well lined with the "needful."

Nance uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, and then
disappeared; in a few minutes she returned and lowered a ladder into the
pit; the Corporal rapidly ascended, and soon stood at the side of his
deliverer, whom he could not avoid thanking warmly, as he gave her the
purse. Bidding him follow her, she conducted him through the dark
passage; they entered the "Pig Pen," which was empty--passed through the
dance cellar without attracting any attention, and to the intense joy of
the Corporal, he found himself standing in the open air, with the sun
shining brightly, and no one to hinder his departure from those corrupt
regions of sin and horror.

He distinctly remembered that Sow Nance had boasted of having enticed a
young girl to the abode of Mr. Tickels in South street. Now this latter
individual was known to him as a libertine and a villain; and inwardly
praying that he might not be too late to rescue his fair young friend
(for he doubted not it was Fanny Aubrey,) from the power of such a
monster, in season to preserve her virtue undefiled, he made the best of
his way to South street. The reader knows how he rushed into the room
just as Tickels was preparing to consummate the outrage, and how he laid
the villain sprawling upon the floor, exclaiming--

"Broad-swords and bomb-shells! I am just in time!"

We have now seen the manner in which Corporal Grimsby discovered the
whereabouts of Fanny Aubrey: and the mystery of his having arrived at a
moment so very opportune, is explained.




CHAPTER V

_The Chevalier and the Duchess._


A period of six months elapsed, and it was now the month of
June--voluptuous June, clad in the gorgeous livery of summer. A great
change had taken place in the circumstances of several of the most
prominent characters of our narrative. The grandfather of Fanny--the
blind old basket-maker--had been "gathered to his fathers," and was
sleeping in a humble but honorable grave. The excellent old Corporal,
having seen the remains of his aged friend consigned to its kindred
dust, had procured a comfortable and delightful asylum for the two
orphans in the family of a valued friend of his--an elderly gentleman
whom we shall call Mr. Goldworthy; he was a retired merchant, possessing
an ample fortune, and was a widower, having an only daughter, with whom
he resided in a splendid mansion in Howard street. Miss Alice
Goldworthy, (then in her eighteenth year,) was one of those rare
creatures who seldom bless this grovelling earth with their bright
presence. She was truly an admirable combination of excellent personal
and mental qualities, and possessed in an eminent degree that beautiful
art (so seldom attained) of making all who came within the sphere of her
genial influence, _perfectly happy_. But her most amiable characteristic
was her good heart, which prompted her to entirely overlook every
consideration of self, in her desire to benefit others. We have now, in
our mind's eye, the exquisite original from whom we imperfectly draw
this beautiful character; her pure soul looks gently forth from the
azure depths of her soft eyes; lovely in her smile, for it is the glad
sunshine of a happy heart--but has that heart ne'er known affliction or
grief? Ah, yes; the harsh world hath, in former times, bruised that
gentle sanctuary of all womanly virtue, by its rude contact; but an
o'er-ruling Providence would not suffer the blighting storms of life to
crush the sweet flower that bent resignedly to the blast--for the angels
in heaven are not more pure and holy than she. Peace be with her, now
and forever! and should her eyes e'er encounter these humble lines, she
will pardon their unknown author for having ventured to gild his pages
with her beautiful character--for he has gazed upon her as upon a star,
shipping with a serene and softened lustre from the blue vault of
heaven.

Her domestic accomplishments were not inferior to her social virtues. In
the charming (because truthful) words of an unpretending but excellent
poet--

    "She had read
    Her father's well-filled library with profit,
    And could talk charmingly; then she could sing
    And play, too, passably, and dance with spirit;
    Yet she was knowing in all needle-work,
    And shone in dairy and kitchen, too
    As in the parlor."

When Fanny Aubrey was ushered into the presence of this amiable young
lady, she started with surprise and pleasure--for she instantly
recognized in her the kind young lady who had presented her with the
gold coin on the memorable day when she was entrapped by Sow Nance into
the house of Mr. Tickels. The recognition was mutual; Miss Alice
instantly remembered the pretty fruit girl whose appearance had so much
interested her; and warmly did she welcome both the young orphans, as
future inmates of her family. Fanny had never before lived in such a
grand house, surrounded by every appliance of luxurious wealth; yet the
unbounded kindness of Miss Alice and her worthy father soon placed her
perfectly at her ease. Excellent teachers were provided for her and her
brother Charles--and, under the fostering care of their generous
patrons, they promised to become ornaments to the elevated sphere of
society in which they were probably destined to move.

Time passed on, and nothing occurred to interrupt the smooth current of
Fanny's existence, until it was deemed advisable to engage a person
properly qualified to give her instructions on that indispensable
fixture to a fashionable parlor--the piano-forte. A teacher of some
reputed talent was employed for this purpose; he was a Mr. Price, of
Charlestown--and has since rendered himself somewhat famous for his
amours in the above city with a married lady whom we shall call Mrs.
Stout; he had for some time been giving her lessons on the piano--but
the husband suspected that he was in the habit of imparting to her
secrets more profound than those of music; he accordingly placed himself
in a position to observe the operations of the parties--and soon
detected them under circumstances of a very unequivocal character.
Rushing in, he severely castigated the gay Lothario, who, laboring under
the great disadvantage of having his costume seriously disarranged,
could only implore for mercy, while he assumed the abject posture so
faithfully depicted by a talented artist, in the engraving which
accompanies this chapter. Long previous to this humorous event, Mr.
Price was, as we have stated, engaged to instruct the pretty Fanny
Aubrey in the science and mystery of the noble instrument of which he
was a well-known professor; but he soon began to indulge in such
alarming familiarities with his fair pupil, that she acquainted her
friends with his conduct, and the consequence was that Mr. Price
received a very dishonorable dismissal from the house. Nature has been
very miserly of her favors to this amorous music teacher: his
countenance resembles that of an unwashed charcoal merchant, while his
manners are utterly devoid of anything like gentlemanly refinement.--We
are no great critic of the art of piano teaching; but we opine that it
is rather unnecessary, in the first stages of the instruction, to clasp
a lady's waist, or even to bring one's mouth in too close proximity to
her rosy lips. It leads a sensitive female, or a fastidious gentleman to
suspect the existence of a strong desire to enjoy a more familiar
intimacy with a feminine pupil, and is apt to result in the teacher's
ignominious ejection from the house and family which he attempts to
dishonor.

With the exception of Mr. Price's insults, (from which she easily
escaped by appealing to her kind patrons for protection,) Fanny's life
passed on happily and quietly for some time; until one evening, on
entering the parlor, she was startled by seeing no less a person than
the Hon. Timothy Tickels, of South street, in familiar and friendly
conversation with Mr. Goldworthy and Miss Alice. Mr. Tickels himself
started and turned pale on beholding the maid whom he had attempted to
dishonor under circumstances of such peculiar atrocity; however, he
quickly recovered himself, and bowed low as Mr. Goldworthy presented her
to him, saying--

"Mr. Tickels, this is Miss Aubrey, the young lady whom I spoke to you
about, as having recently come to reside with me. Fanny, this is an old
and much esteemed friend of mine, who has expressed a great desire to
see you, and whom, I am sure, you will love and respect for his piety
and moral excellence!"

Fanny coldly returned the salutations of the lecherous old hypocrite,
whom she had such a good reason to hate and despise; it was evident to
her that he had imposed on her worthy patrons, who really believed him
to be a man of unblemished moral and religious character. During the
evening, other company came in, and Tickels, having placed himself at
Fanny's side, whispered in her ear--

"My dear young lady, I see you recognize me; I also knew you instantly;
for God's sake do not expose me! I am sincerely sorry for the wrong I
meditated against you--I have since repented in sackcloth and ashes.
Promise me, I entreat you, that you will not whisper a word in regard to
that infamous affair to Miss Alice or her father--or, indeed, to any one
else; promise me, angel that you are--will you not?"

Fanny reflected a few moments, during which she asked herself--"What is
the right course for me to pursue in this matter? It will be very wrong
for me to ruin this man by exposing him, if he has sincerely repented.
The Bible tells us to forgive our enemies--ought I not to forgive him?
Yes, I will; my heart and conscience tell me it will be right to do so.
Mr. Tickels," she added, aloud--"I forgive you for having tried to
injure me, and, if you have truly repented, I will never say anything
about the affair which you wish to have kept secret."

How artlessly and ingenuously she pronounced those words of forgiveness,
to a man who had tried to inflict upon her the greatest injury that can
befall woman--a man who, even at that moment, in the black hypocrisy of
his heart, gloated upon her youthful charms as the wolf doth feast his
savage eyes upon the innocent lamb! Yes, and even at that moment, too,
his polluted soul was hatching an infernal plan to get her again in his
power, in a place where no aid was ever likely to wrest her from his
grasp--a place established for purposes of lust and outrage, to which he
had alluded, (in his soliloquy after the rescue of Fanny by the
Corporal,) as the "Chambers of Love."

"Ah, my young paragon of virtue," said the old hypocrite to himself--"it
is all very well for you to prate of forgiveness; but I'll have you in
the 'Chambers' in less than a month--then see if you can again escape
me! In that luxurious underground retreat, from whose mysterious recess
no cry can reach the ears of prying mortals above--there, amid the
sumptuousness of an Oriental palace, will I riot on those charms of
thine, which now I dare but gaze upon! I'll make thee a slave to every
extravagant caprice of my passion; I'll become a god of pleasure, and
thou, my beautiful blonde, shall be my ministering angel; for me shalt
thou fill the glittering wine-cup with the sparkling gem of the grape;
for me shalt thou sing at the banquet, and preside as Venus at the rosy
couch of love."

Such were the thoughts that passed through the mind of the disgusting
old voluptuary, while his lying tongue gave utterance to words like the
following:--

"A thousand thanks, my kind young lady, for that promise! Ah, if you
only knew how beautiful you are, you would not so much blame me for my
folly--my wickedness. But I'll say no more, as such language seems to
pain you. I have, by long fasting and sincere prayer, succeeded in
cleansing my heart from every impure desire--I can now view you with the
holy feelings--the passionless regard, of a father for his daughter. My
dear child, forget not your promise to refrain from exposing an erring
fellow mortal; and may Heaven bless you!"

Poor, unsuspecting Fanny!--could she have seen the black heart of the
smooth villain who addressed her with such pious humility, how well she
might have exclaimed, with Byron--

    "Thy love is lust, thy friendship all cheat,
    Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit."

Mr. Tickels continued to visit the Goldworthys frequently; and they, far
from suspecting his real character, always received him with the
familiarity of an old friend. They noticed that Fanny treated him with
marked coolness and reserve; this they thought but little of, however,
merely regarding it as an excess of diffidence.

It is now necessary that we introduce a new character on the stage. This
was a gentleman who bore the rather aristocratic title of the "Chevalier
Duvall," and was supposed to be a foreigner of distinguished birth; and
if noble lineage ever indicated itself by splendid personal or mental
gifts, then was the Chevalier entitled to the fullest belief when he
declared himself to have descended from one of the noblest families of
France--for a man of more superb and commanding beauty never won the
heart of a fair lady. We confess ourselves rather opposed to the
prevailing tastes of authors, who make all their heroes and heroines
perfect paragons of personal beauty--but, in the present instance, we
are dealing, not with an imaginary creation, but with an actual
character. The Chevalier, then, was a man of a thousand; elegant in his
carriage, superbly graceful in every movement, possessing a form of
perfect symmetry, and a countenance faultlessly handsome, no wonder that
he captivated the hearts of many lovely damsels, and made no unfavorable
impression upon the mind of the fair Alice Goldworthy, whom he had
casually met in polished society, and whose admiration he had enlisted,
as much by the charms of inimitable wit as by the graces of his
matchless person. What wonder that the gentle girl, all unskilled as she
was in the ways of the world, should receive his frequent visits with
pleasure; and when her kind father intimated to her that her lover was a
man possessing no visible resources, and was besides very unwilling to
allude to his former history, which was involved in much obscurity, what
wonder that she made herself his champion, and assured her father that
he (the Chevalier) was everything that the most fastidious could desire.
And the good old man, never very inquisitive or meddlesome in what he
considered the affairs of others, and satisfied that his daughter's
views of her lover must be correct, forbore to pain her further by any
insinuations derogatory to the Chevalier's character, and made no
objections to his oft-repeated visits.

Delicious was that dream of love to the pure-hearted maiden! Her lover
was to her the _beau ideal_ of manhood; so delicate in his attentions,
so uniformly respectful in his behavior. What if mystery _did_ exist in
reference to his history and resources?--when did Love ever stop to make
inquiries relative to descent or dollars? As long as she believed Duvall
to be an honorable and good man, she would have deserted her luxurious
home and shared poverty and exile with him, if necessary. Ah, how often
does Love, in the best and purest natures, triumph over filial affection
and every consideration of worldly or pecuniary advantage.

"My Alice," said Duvall, as they were seated in Mr. Goldworthy's
luxurious parlor, at that most delightful period of the
day--twilight--bewitching season, when day softly melts into the embrace
of night!--"_My_ Alice, there is much connected with my name and
fortunes that must be to you a profound mystery; but, believe me, my
name is untainted with dishonor, and my fortunes are free from disgrace.
A solemn vow prevents me from explaining myself further, until the
blissful moment when I can call you wife; then, idol of my soul, shall
you know all. Behold this right hand; it has never committed an action
that could make this cheek blush with shame. And now, fairest among
women, when shall I claim this soft hand as my own lawful prize?"

The day was named, and the happy Alice was for the first time clasped to
the bosom of her lover.

       *       *       *       *       *

At the hour of noon, on the next day, a gentleman might have been
standing on the steps of the Tremont House, gazing with an eye of
abstraction upon the passing throng. The age of this gentleman might
have been a matter of dubious inquiry; he was not young, you'd swear at
the first glance, and yet, after you had gazed two minutes into his
superb countenance, you would be as ready to swear that he was not over
thirty, or thirty-five at most. In truth, he was one of those singular
persons whose external appearance defies you to form any opinion as to
their age, with any hope of coming within twenty years of the truth. Not
a single gray hair could be seen among the glossy curls that fell over
his noble forehead--not a wrinkle disfigured the smooth surface of his
dark, beautiful skin--and yet there was _something_ that we cannot
define or describe, in the expression of his eyes, which now flashed
with all the fire of youth, and then grew almost dim as with the shadows
of advancing age--a something that indicated to any acute observer that
the elegant stranger had passed the prime of manhood.

He was dressed with tasteful simplicity. A splendid black suit set off
his fine form to advantage; yet his attire was utterly devoid of
ornament. Many were the bright eyes that glanced admiringly at his
handsome person; yet he seemed unconscious of the admiration he excited,
and gazed upon the passing crowd with all the calm complacency of a
philosopher.

This gentleman was the Chevalier Duvall. Not long had he been standing
upon the steps of the Tremont House, when he was accosted by an elderly
gentleman of a portly appearance, whom he cordially greeted with every
token of familiar friendship.

The portly old gentleman was the Honorable Timothy Tickels; he and the
Chevalier had long been intimate friends, having frequently met at the
house of Mr. Goldworthy. After the usual compliments, Mr. Tickels
remarked to his friend--

"By the way, my dear Chevalier, you remember that you long since
promised to introduce me to a sister of yours, whose charms you highly
extolled. I am anxious to see if she really merits your somewhat
extravagant praise. I have a few hours of leisure to-day, and if you
will present me to her, I shall be delighted."

"Certainly, my good sir, certainly," rejoined the Chevalier--"the
distance is but trifling, and if you will do me the honor to accompany
me, to my humble abode, you shall be made acquainted with the most
beautiful woman in Boston. My sister is called the _Duchess_, and as
mystery is the peculiar characteristic of myself and family, you will
have the kindness to address her by that title."

Mr. Tickels expressed his thanks; and the two gentlemen proceeded to
Somerset street, wherein stood the residence of the Chevalier. It was a
house of modest exterior, very plain but respectable in appearance; yet
the interior was furnished very handsomely. On entering the house,
Duvall directed a servant to inform the Duchess that he had brought a
gentleman to be introduced to her; and in about a quarter of an hour the
lady sent word that she was prepared to receive her brother and his
friend in her _boudoir_. Accordingly, the gentlemen ascended to that
apartment; and on entering, Mr. Tickels stood for a few moments rooted
to the floor with astonishment.

It was a small chamber, but furnished with every indication of the most
exquisite taste. Fresh flowers, smiling from beautiful vases, scented
the air with their delicious perfume; classic statuary adorned every
corner, and gorgeous drapery at the windows excluded the glare of day,
producing a kind of soft twilight. Voluptuous paintings, with frames
superbly carved and gilded, ornamented the walls; and the footsteps fell
noiseless on the rich and yielding Turkish carpet. A splendid harp and
piano evinced the musical taste of the tenant of that elegant retreat.

But it was not the fragrance of flowers, or the beauties of sculpture,
or the divine skill of the painter, that enthralled the senses of Mr.
Tickels, and caused him to pause as if spell-bound in the centre of the
room. No--his gaze was riveted upon a female form that reclined upon a
sofa; and now we are almost inclined to throw down our pen in despair,
for we are conscious of our inability to describe such a glorious
perfection of womanly beauty as met the enraptured gaze of a man, whose
sensual nature amply qualified him to appreciate such charms as she
possessed.

She was not what the world calls a _young_ woman; yet thirty
years--thirty summers--had not dim'd the lustre of her beauty. Truly,
she was the VENUS OF BOSTON! A brow, expansive and intellectual--hair of
silken texture, that fell in massive luxuriance from beneath a jewelled
head-dress which resembled the coronet of a duchess--cheeks that glowed
with the rosy hue of health and a thousand fiery passions--eyes that
sparkled with that peculiar expression so often seen in women of an
ardent, impetuous nature, now languishing, melting with tender desires,
now darting forth arrows of hate and rage--these were the
characteristics of the Duchess! There she lay, the very personification
of voluptuousness--large in stature, full in form, and exquisitely
beautiful in feature! Her limbs (once the model of a renowned sculptor
at Athens,) would have crazed Canova, and made Powers break his "Greek
Slave" into a thousand fragments; and those limbs--how visible they were
beneath the light, transparent gauze which but partially covered them!
Her leg, with its exquisite ankle and swelling calf,--faultless in
symmetry,--was terminated by a tiny foot which coquettishly played with
a satin slipper on the carpet,--a slipper that would have driven
Cinderella to the commission of suicide. Her ample waist had never been
compressed by the wearing of corsets, or any other barbarous tyranny of
fashion; yet it was graceful, and did not in the least degree approach
an unseemly obesity; and how magnificently did it expand into a glorious
bust, whereon two "hillocks of snow" projected their rose-tinted peaks,
in sportive rivalry--revealed, with bewildering distinctness, by the
absence of any concealing drapery! When she smiled, her lips, like "wet
coral," parted, and displayed teeth of dazzling whiteness, and when she
laughed, she did so _musically_. Her hand would have put Lord Byron in
extacies, and her taper fingers glittered with costly gems. Such was the
glorious creature who entranced the senses of the Honorable Timothy
Tickels on entering her luxurious _boudoir_.

She greeted her brother the Chevalier with a smile, and his friend with
a graceful inclination of her head; but she did not arise, for which she
apologized by stating that she was afflicted with a slight lameness
caused by a recent fall. Then she glided into a discourse so witty, so
fascinating, that Mr. Tickels was charmed beyond expression.

"I must really chide you, Chevalier," said she, turning to her
brother--"for not having afforded me the gratification of an earlier
introduction to your friend; for I now have the honor of making his
acquaintance under extremely unfavorable circumstances;--almost an
invalid, and arrayed in this slovenly _dishabille_. My dear Mr.
Tickels," she added, "you must not look at me, for I am really ashamed
of having been caught in this deplorable plight."

Admirable stroke of art!--to apologize to an accomplished libertine, for
liberally displaying to his amorous gaze charms that would have moved a
marble statue!

"Magnificent Duchess," quoth Mr. Tickels, drawing nearer to her, and
eagerly surveying the exposed charms of her splendid person--"offer no
apology for feasting my eyes on beauty such as yours. I am no fulsome
flatterer when I declare to you, that you are the queen and star of all
the beautiful women it has ever been my lot to behold! You are not
offended at my familiarity?"

The Duchess only said "fie!" and pouted for a moment, so as to display
her ripe lips to advantage; and then her face became radiant with a
smile that made Mr. Tickels' susceptible heart beat against his ribs
like the hammer on a blacksmith's anvil.

The Chevalier rose. "You must excuse me, both of you," said he, as he
took up his hat--"I have got an engagement which will oblige me to
deprive myself of the pleasure of your agreeable company for the
present. So _au revoir_--make yourself perfectly at home, my dear Mr.
Tickels; and it will be your own fault if you do not ripen the intimacy
which has this day commenced between yourself and the Duchess."

The Chevalier departed, and Mr. Tickels was alone with the magnificent
Duchess.

The old libertine spoke truly when he declared that he had never before
seen such a beautiful woman. Accustomed as he was to the society of
ladies, in whose company he always assumed a degree of familiarity that
was almost offensive, he was nevertheless so awed and intoxicated by the
divine loveliness of the Duchess, that, when he found himself alone with
her, he completely lost his usual self-possession, and could only
declare his admiration by his glances--not by words. For a few minutes
she coquettishly toyed with her fan--then she carelessly passed her
jewelled hand over her queenly brow to remove the clustering hair; and
finally, with an arch glance, she complimented Mr. Tickels on his
taciturnity, and laughingly enquired if he was always thus silent in the
society of ladies?

"Madam," replied Mr. Tickels--"I am struck dumb by your unsurpassable
beauty. Forgive me, but my tongue is mute in the presence of such a
divinity."

"Fie, sir! I must scold you if you flatter me," responded the Duchess,
as her cheeks were suffused with a charming blush--"and yet I find it
very hard to be angry with you, for your compliments are clothed in
language so elegant, that they are far from being odious. Here is my
hand, in token of my forgiveness."

She gave him her hand--a hand so white, so soft, so exquisitely
delicate, that its touch thrilled through the entire frame of Mr.
Tickels. Involuntarily he raised it to his lips, and knelt down before
her;--then suddenly recollecting himself, he arose, murmuring a confused
apology for his rudeness. Her brilliant eyes were turned upon his, with
a soft expression, like that of languishing desire; and partly rising
from the sofa, she made room for Mr. Tickels to seat himself at her
side. This action she accompanied by a gesture of invitation; and
eagerly did the old gentleman sink down upon the soft and yielding sofa.
At first he sat at a respectful distance from her; but gradually he
edged closer and closer, until their persons touched. Still she
manifested not the slightest displeasure; and at last, maddened by his
close proximity to such matchless charms--for lust very often triumphs
over prudence--he ventured to steal his arm around her voluptuous waist.
To his inexpressible delight, she did not repulse him; and then how
wildly palpitated his heart, as he gazed down into those swelling
regions of snow, within whose mysterious depths a score of little Cupids
might have nested! Bolder and bolder grew the excited old voluptuary, as
he found that she did not resist his amorous advances; her fragrant
breath fanned his cheek, and the glances of her lustrous eyes dazzled
his senses. Her ripe lips were provokingly near to his--why not taste
their nectar? He pressed her closer to him, and she turned her charming
face full towards him, and seemed, with an arch smile, to challenge him
to bear off the prize. One little inch alone intervened between her rosy
mouth and his own _watering_ one; in a moment 'twas done! He had stolen
a kiss, and received in return a playful tap with her fan. Who, that has
once ravished a kiss from the divine lips of a lovely woman, does not
feel inclined to repeat the offence? Again and again he kissed her; and
finally, almost beside himself with rapture, he glued his hot lips to
her neck, her shoulders, her bosom. Then Mr. Tickels became sensible
that he had gone too far--for she disengaged herself from his embrace,
and said, with an air of offended dignity--

"You seem to forget yourself, sir; my foolish complacency to the friend
of my brother has, I fear, led me to permit liberties, which have
engendered in your breast desires injurious to my honor. I confess that
I was, for a moment, overcome by certain feelings which I possess, in
common with all others of the human family; nay, I will even admit that
I am of a nature peculiarly ardent and susceptible; and your refined
gallantry, and my close contact with your really very agreeable person,
aroused my passions, and caused me to forget my prudence until your
liberties became so intimate that I feared for the safety of my honor. I
must not forget my position as a lady of character and birth; and I
trust that you will remember your pretensions to the title of a
gentleman."

"Forgive me, beautiful Duchess," cried Tickels, in tones the most
abject--"on my bended knees I implore your pardon. What man, possessing
heart and soul, could view such heavenly charms as thine, without being
betrayed into an indiscretion? But forgive me, and I will ask no greater
favor than to be allowed to kiss that beauteous hand."

"I am not angry with you," said the Duchess, giving him her hand, which
he raised reverently to his lips, "for I can fully appreciate the
feelings which prompted your conduct; therefore, I willingly
forgive,--and now that we are good friends again, you may come and sit
by my side, provided you will promise to be very good, and neither kiss
me or clasp my waist with your arm. So, sir, that is very well--but why
do you gaze so intently at my pretty shoulders and--but, good heavens!
until this moment I was unconscious of my almost naked condition; if you
will persist in looking at me, I must positively cover myself with a
shawl."

"Charming Duchess, that would be worse sacrilege than to cover a costly
jewel with tow-cloth," rejoined Tickels; and the lady smiled at his
gallantry, as she remarked--

"Nevertheless, naughty man, you must not take advantage of my negligent
and slight attire to devour my person with your eyes. Besides, I am too
_em bon point_ for either grace or beauty, and am naturally anxious to
conceal that defect."

"Defect!" exclaimed Tickels,--"if there is one single defect in your
glorious person, then is Venus herself a pattern of ugliness. The
voluptuous fullness of your form is your most delightful attribute."

A silence of some minutes ensued, during which the old libertine
continued his longing gaze, while the lady took up and fondly caressed a
beautiful little lap-dog, whose snowy fleece was prettily set off by a
silver collar, musical with bells. How Tickels envied the little animal,
when its mistress placed it in her bosom, and bestowed upon it every
epithet of tender endearment!

"Poor Fido!" at length said the lady, with a soft sigh,--"thou art the
sole companion of my solitude. You would scarcely believe, Mr. Tickels,
how devotedly I am attached to this little creature, and how much he
loves me in return. He will only take his food from my hand, and I feed
him on the most delicate custards. Every morning I wash him carefully in
rose water, and he is my constant bed-fellow at night. ('Lucky dog!'
sighed Tickels.) I have only his society to dispel the _ennui_ of my
solitude;--but, now I think of it, I have other sources of amusement:
for there are my books, my music, my flowers. By the way, are you fond
of music? Yes, I know you are; for you are a gentleman of too much
elegant refinement of mind, not to love the divine harmony of sweet
sounds. And now I shall put your gallantry to the test by requesting you
to bring my harp hither; and to reward you for your trouble, you shall
hear a song."

The instrument was placed before her, and she sang, with exquisite
feeling and pathos, the beautiful song commencing with--

    "'Twere vain to tell thee all I feel,
    Or say for thee I sigh."

Tickels, to do him justice, was a true connoisseur in music; and warmly
did he express his gratification at the performance, particularly as the
Duchess accompanied the words by glances expressive of every tender
emotion.

"Heigho! what can have become of the Chevalier? Devoted as he is to the
erratic pursuits of a man of fashion, he is seldom at home, and
consequently I see but little of him." Thus spoke the Duchess, after a
long pause which had begun to be embarrassing.

"Do you long for his return?" asked Tickels--"will not my society
compensate for his absence?"

"Oh, yes!" laughingly replied the lady--"you are gallant and agreeable;
whereas my brother is often moody and abstracted. Besides, you know, a
_brother_ cannot of course be such a pleasant companion to a lady,
as--as--I had almost said a _lover_. In truth, I am willing to confess
that you are a dear, delightful old gentleman, and I am half in love
with you already. Nay, don't squeeze my hand so, or I shall repent
having made the declaration."

"You are a sweet creature," rejoined Tickels--"and very cruel for having
afforded me a glimpse of heaven, and then shut out the prospect from my
longing gaze. But tell me, how is it that you and your brother are so
completely is

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