And managed to hold her up.-
But, when she "comes to,'
Oh! 'tis shocking to view
The sight which the corpse reveals!
Sir Thomas's body,

It look'd so odd-he

Was half eaten up by the eels!

His waistcoat and hose, and the rest of his clothes
Were all gnaw'd through and through;
And out of each shoe

An eel they drew ;

And from each of his pockets they pull'd out two!
And the Gardener himself had secreted a few,
As well we may suppose;

For, when he came running to give the alarm,
He had six in the basket that hung on his arm.

Good Father John*

Was summon'd anon;
Holy water was sprinkled,
And little bells tinkled,
And tapers were lighted,
And incense ignited,

And masses were sung, and masses were said,
All day, for the quiet repose of the dead,
And all night no one thought about going to bed.

But Lady Jane was tall and slim,
And Lady Jane was fair,-

And, ere morning came, that winsome dame

Had made up her mind-or, what's much the same,
Had thought about-once more "changing her name,"
And she said, with a pensive air,

To Thompson, the valet, while taking away,
When supper was over, the cloth and the tray,-
"Eels a many

I've ate; but any

So good ne'er tasted before!—

They're a fish, too, of which I'm remarkably fond.-
Go-pop Sir Thomas again in the Pond-

"Poor dear!"-HE'LL CATCH US SOME MORE!!

MORAL.

All middle-aged Gentlemen let me advise,

If you're married, and have not got very good eyes,

Don't go poking about after blue-bottle flies!

For some account of Father John Ingoldsby, to whose papers I am so much beholden, see Ingoldsby Legends, First Series, p. 216 (2nd Edit.). This was the last ecclesiastical act of his long and valuable life.

If you've spectacles, don't have a tortoiseshell rim,
And don't go near the water,-unless you can swim!

Married Ladies, especially such as are fair,

Tall, and slim, I would next recommend to beware
How, on losing one spouse, they give way to despair;
But let them reflect, "There are fish, and no doubt on 't-
As good in the river as ever came out on 't!"

Should they light on a spouse who is given to roaming
In solitude-raison de plus, in the "gloaming,"-

Let them have a fix'd time for said spouse to come home in!
And if, when "last dinner-bell"'s rung, he is late,
To insure better manners in future-Don't wait!-

If of husband or children they chance to be fond,
Have a stout iron-wire fence put all round the pond!

One more piece of advice, and I close my appeals-
That is if you chance to be partial to eels,
Then-Crede experto-trust one who has tried-

Have them spitch-cock'd,-or stew'd-they're too oily when fried!

313

THE ADVENTURES OF MR. LEDBURY AND HIS

FRIEND, JACK JOHNSON.

BY ALBERT SMITH.

WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY JOHN LEECH.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Which is more especially interesting to Jack Johnson and Emma Ledbury. FROM time immemorial there has been an imperative necessity in all plays and novels-or, at least, in so great a majority of them that the remaining ones are lost in their own insignificance, — for a lovestory, or even two or three distinct courtships, to be worked into the plot and form its leading features. And, moreover, it has been ordained in these compositions, that, for a love-story to possess any interest, its course must be interrupted by frequent breaks and annoyances, which shall from time to time throw obstacles in the way of the principal characters concerned; in fact, that, instead of being a straightforward, smooth course, as the New Mile on Ascot Heath, it shall be rendered perplexing and troublesome, like the ground whilome appropriated to steeple-chases at the Hippodrome.

Now it appears, from hourly instances, that the safest-sailing method of composition in literature or art, is to follow that rule which has hitherto proved most successful, -a plan adopted to admiration by most of the dramatists, musicians, and especially novelists, of the present day, as every new play, opera, or three-volume story, will abundantly testify. And, therefore, we openly avow that this is the line which we ourselves mean to take up; and we confess it at once, to avoid all animadversions on our conduct in so doing; for the world will always lend itself as a willing accomplice to those peccadillos which are not sought to be concealed; and having ourselves pleaded guilty to our own charge of plagiarism, no one else will now care to accuse us of it. And so we will proceed to show how sundry obstacles arose to annoy Jack Johnson during the period that he was paying his attentions to Emma Ledbury, although the manner in which the courtship finally ended must for the present remain undivulged to our readers.

Some few days after the events of the last chapter, Mr. and Mrs. Ledbury were sitting alone one evening in the parlour; the old gentleman being engaged, as usual, in perusing the city intelligence of the evening paper; whilst his consort was performing some curious feats of legerdemain with two whalebone sticks, and a ball of worsted, from whose united manœuvres the foundation of a triangular shawl was gradually being produced. Titus had gone off with his friend to some theatre, upon the strength of an eleventh-hour order, that had come in unexpectedly; and Emma was sitting in the nursery, to keep the olive-branches from setting themselves on fire, or bundling down stairs in the dark, whilst Foster was in the kitchen. Not that such was her usual avocation; but the domestic arrangements of the house had been somewhat disturbed from their

VOL. XIII.

Z

propriety by the sudden loss of the boy in buttons, and the advent of another page in embryo.

"Servants are certainly the greatest plagues in housekeeping," observed Mrs. Ledbury, in a temporary fit of vexation at dropping a stitch.

The old gentleman replied by a motion of his head, something between a shake and a nod, which might have been taken as expressive of anything; for, as he had heard the same terms of reproach separately applied by Mrs. Ledbury during the past week to washing, butchers' bills, and four-and-a-half-gallon tubs of table-ale, he was a little confused as to what was in reality the leading domestic annoyance.

66

I hate all boys!" continued Mrs. Ledbury; "you take a great deal of pains to teach them how to lay a cloth, and wait properly; and just as they begin to be useful, and worth their six pounds a-year, they leave you for something else."

"Then, my dear, I would not trouble myself about them any more," calmly observed Mr. Ledbury.

"And, suppose I did not, Mr. Ledbury, what would become of the house? I ask you again, what would become of the house ?”

Mr. Ledbury, entertaining some peculiar notion that the house would, in all probability, remain where it was, kept silent.

"To think," resumed the lady, "that the Claverleys, who have not been near us for months, should take it into their heads to call to-day!"

"Did they call to-day, my love?" innocently asked the old gentleman.

"Did they! Now, Mr. Ledbury, have I not told you so several times before? You are so very absent! And, the great oafish lout whom you have chosen to take from the school, first kept them at the door until they knocked twice; and then, when they asked if I was at home (I was dressing to go out with Emma), drawled forth, Yes, missis is at home; but she's cleaning herself!' What low, common persons you appear to patronise!"

"Hipkins recommended the boy to me as being exceedingly willing and honest," observed Mr. Ledbury.

"That I do not wish to deny," replied his companion; "but look at his figure; he is all legs and wings. You will never be able to put him into the clothes that William wore; he would be a perfect sight for the impudent little boys in the street to run after and shout at. Titus wished to bring Mr. Johnson back to supper too; and I was obliged to make all sorts of signs to him not to press it. But Titus is so slow at taking a hint."

Perhaps it would all have been as well, my love!" said Mr. Ledbury. "I think he comes here a great deal too often. You must recollect we do not know very much of him; and he pays extraordinary attention to Emma."

"Titus says he is very respectable, my dear," answered his wife; "and I am sure his manners prove him to be so."

For Johnson was one of Mrs. Ledbury's chief favourites, and she always supported him. Indeed, we have generally observed that the suitor of the daughter is more or less befriended by the mother; and the more so, by a delicate shade of conjugal diversity, if there is any paternal prejudice against him.

"Marriage now, Mrs. Ledbury," continued her husband, "is a serious thing, and very different to what it used to be in our days. Increased education has given young people increased ideas, and they all want to commence where their parents leave off, with a ready-made income, and everything about them in first-rate order." "It is very true," replied the lady. "We lived in lodgings when

we were first married."

"We did; and where would you find the young people who would do so now?"

After a little more conversation, the old gentleman agreed that he would speak to Jack that very night, in the event of his returning with his son; and then the subject was dropped, as Emma came back from her charge to the parlour; and commenced a highly interesting domestic relation, of which Master Walter Ledbury was the hero, as to how very naughty he had been; how he had buried the baby's barking white French poodle in the coal-scuttle, and then flung his doll, which now only consisted of the trunk, and part of the head, through the nursery-window, as well as the skylight of Grimley's kitchen, in a fit of violent passion.

Although neither Mr. nor Mrs. Ledbury was certain that Jack would come back with Titus, yet Emma appeared perfectly conscious that such an event would happen; and, under pretence of seeing that the new boy arranged everything properly, she stepped into the kitchen, and made a few additions to the contents of the tray, which, in all probability, she would not have done for her brother alone, with all her love for him. And then, by divers ingenious manœuvres, she put off the usual time of the meal, singing and playing such airs, in a nice fireside manner, as she thought her father and mother would be unwilling to interrupt; or persuading Mrs. Ledbury, by various indirect allusions, to begin a fresh row of knitting for the shawl, until a knock at the door announced the return of Titus, and she heard Jack's voice as they disposed of their hats and coats in the passage.

They had a very merry supper, for Johnson was in better spirits than he had appeared lately; and Titus was exceedingly jocose, retailing all they had seen, accompanied by what he believed to be very correct imitations of the various actors, but which put Jack more in mind of Macready with variations. However, as neither his father, mother, nor sister, was very conversant with the originals, the effect was equally gratifying; and they laughed at him quite as much as the audience had done at the real performers.

"The cabman who brought us home was a great card," observed Jack; "and amused us immensely. We found out he had been a stage-coachman, knocked up by the combined influence of gin and railways."

"What a strange voice he had!" said Titus.

Very!" continued Jack; "it seemed to come through a rusty nutmeg-grater stuffed with horse-hair. He kept saying to his horse, 'Get along, some o' you! I thought at first he was addressing the different legs, for they seemed to need a little urging, until he told us that he had been so used to drive four-in-hand, he couldn't get out of the way of it."

Time crept on; and at last the clock on the mantelpiece warned Jack that the usual hour of retiring at Ledbury's had arrived, and