he already had his fingers on a royal pulse, whose harmonious throbbings communicating with his own ennobled anatomy, sweetly troubled his beating heart. However, with the will of a strong man he put down the emotion, and returned to his lordship's business.

"You spoke of revenge, my lord? Upon that wealthy wretch, Snipeton? May I ask what sort of revenge your lordship desires to take?

"Faith! Mr. Crossbone, my revenge is like Shylock's. I'd take it," said the young gentleman, with a smile of significant bitterness- I'd take it nearest his heart."

Yes, I understand; perfectly, my lord," said Crossbone with new gaiety. "The flesh of his flesh, eh? His wife ?"

"His wife," cried St. James passionately.

46

Excellent, my lord! Excellent! Ha! ha ha!" And the apothecary could not resist the spirit of laughter that tickled him; it was so droll to imagine a man-especially an old man-despoiled of his wife. "She would be sweet revenge," cried Crossbone, rubbing his hands with an implied relish.

"And practicable, eh?" cried St. James. Crossbone smiled again, and rubbed his hands with renewed pleasure, nodding the while. "He has carried her from Dovesnest; buried her some where; for this much I know-she is not at his house in the city."

"I know all, my lord; all. I have received a letter-here it is" and Crossbone gave the missive to St. James: "you see, he writes me that she is ill-very ill-and as he has great faith in my knowledge-for there is no man without some good point, let's hope that in my knowledge of her constitution, he desires me to come and see her. I've arrived this very morning in London. I was going direct to him; but surely there's providence in it, my lord-but something told me to come and see you first."

66

"And I am delighted," said St. James, that you gave ear to the good genius. You'll assist me?'

"My lord," said Crossbone solemnly, "I have, I hope, a proper respect for the rights of birth and the institutions of my country. And I have always, my lord, considered politics as nothing more than enlarged morals."

"Thank you for the apophthegm"-said the flattering St. James. "May I use it in parliament when I get there?"

66

Oh, my lord!" simpered Crossbone, and continued.

"En

larged morals. Now, this man Snipeton, in opposing your lordship

You can't touch him through his money.

No: 'tis

for Liquorish, in bringing in a muffin-maker over your noble head -all the town is ringing with it-has, I conceive, violated wholesale morality, and should be punished accordingly. But how punished? his coat of mail. He's what I call a golden crocodile, my lord, with but one tender place-and that 's his wife. Then strike him there, and you punish him for his presumption, and revenge the disgrace he has put upon your family."

66

Exactly," said St. James, a little impatient of the apothecary's morals." But, my good sir, do you know where the lady is?

66

No. But I shall order her wherever may be most convenient. Would the air of Bath suit you?" asked the apothecary with a leer.

"Excellently-nothing could be better," said St. James.

"Bath be it, then. And she must go alone; that is, without that Mrs. Wilton. I don't like that woman. There's a cold watchfulness about her that we can do without, my lord."

"But how separate them?" asked St. James.

"It

"Leave that to me. Well handled, nothing cuts like a sharp lie; it goes at once through heartstrings." St. James passed his hand across his face: he felt his blood had mounted there. has often separated flesh of flesh and bone of bone, and may easily part mistress and servant. Talking of servants, have you no trusty fellow to go between us, my lord?"

Even as the apothecary spoke Ralph brought in a card; the card given by St. James to St. Giles. The returned transport

awaited in the hall the command of his patron.

"Nothing could be more fortunate," cried St. James. "Ralph, tell the man who brings this, to attend this gentleman and take his orders. To-morrow I will see him myself."

"And to-morrow, my lord," said the apothecary, with new courage holding forth his hand, "to-morrow you shall hear from

me.

"To-morrow," said St. James.

"To-morrow; heaven be with your lordship ;" and with this hope, the apothecary departed.

St. James hastily paced the room. The walls were hung with

mirrors.

The young gentleman-was it a habit ?—still walked with his hand to his face.

397

THE POOR MAN'S COAT.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE "PURGATORY OF SUICIDES."

THE sun shone out so gay,

of late,

I hastened to St. James' Park gate,
And entered in to breathe the breeze,-
To glad me with the budding trees,
The verdant sward, the graceful swans,
The diving fowls, and little ones

Who laugh, while throwing crumbs of bread,
To see how eager to be fed,

The quick-eyed ducks throng o'er the lake,
And scarce have leisure to cry "quake!"

'Twas lightsome for the heart, to view
Nature put on her robes anew ;—
To see those feathered things of life
Skim to the verge, in giddy strife ;—
To hear the laugh of children, there,
And see how glad their faces were ;—
To mark the pairs of decent people,
Although 'twas Sunday, shun the steeple,
And hold their church withouten thrall,
'Neath "the blue sky that bends o'er all;
'Twas very pleasant, altogether,

To see these sights in such fine weather,
And feel how freely one could walk,
And, to one's self, so calmly talk.

And talk unto myself I did,

Saying, "These waters pellucid,

These plumaged things, this goodly grass,

These spreading elms,-each lad and lass,
Linked arm-in-arm, can freely view;
And, after all, 'tis scarcely true
That only lords and ladies grand
Are privileged, in British land,

To have their holidays of mirth;
For none seem here of lordly birth:
'Tis true, they all are fairly drest;

But then, of course, folk wear their best
On Sundays."

Thus I sagely talked,

And to the other gate I walked :

The gate, I mean, that 's near the mansion,
So vasty in its stone expansion,-
Within which, Majesty-some seasons—
Sits to hear Peel's sagacious reasons
For making oath she governs well :—
Doth she dispute it? I can't tell ;
But think, by royal orthodoxy,
She must believe in-Rule by Proxy:
At least, you know, the House of Lords,
Some colour to my thought affords-
Since he who learned midst deathly strife
To govern men in peaceful life-
Our war-enlightened Wellington-
Holds seventy peers' sage brains in one
Pocket, and useth them for any
Service that curbs th' unruly Many!

Just as I reached the gate in question,
I saw a sight 'tis sad to mention.

One whose worn features showed he toiled,
With coat his work had somewhat soiled,-
The coat in which he earned his bread,-
Ventured into the park to tread ;
Whereat, a thing with gilt-band hat,
Thrust him with rudeness to the gate,

And turned him out! I stared: but, quick,

The porter hid his splenetic

And ruby face, that did betoken

He feared some harsh words would be spoken By me and others, who did look

Little inclined that deed to brook.

Then forth to him that out was thrust
I sped, and thus his case discussed:
I guess, my honest friend, you bought,
With your own hard-earned brass, that coat?

"I did," he answered, " and I work
Daily as hard as any Turk,

To win a crust, and think it hard
To be a walk i' th' park debarred.
My Sunday coat, to help my mother,
I pawned; and I have not another,
Save this upon my back, to wear.
This usage, sir, is hard to bear!”

"It is," said I:

Upon that coat

cr

a tax was laid

that tax you paid;

And, though your coat is stained and soiled,
In it for taxes you have toiled:
Taxes, to keep in sovereign pride
Her whose grand palace doth bestride
This soldiered space: taxes, to feed
That menial who hath done this deed:
Taxes, to keep this goodly park

In pleasing trim :—but now, friend, hark!
Think of these things, until you feel
This show of red-coat men with steel,
That serves to awe the toiling crowd,
And keep in useless pomp the proud,
Will vanish,-if poor men will learn
Their rights and duties to discern,
And league, a peaceful, moral band,
To end injustice through the land.
Think of these things, and tell aloud,
Where'er you go, what wrongs the Proud
Inflict on Toil. Man, speak it out!
And it will soon be brought about,
No high-taxed coat you 'll take to pawn,
But Sunday clothes become your own ;—
And working-men will cease to be
Taxed for a park that's not more free
For them than for a mangy dog!"

"Did you say this, seditious rogue?"
"I did; and, if I see another
Poor, honest, toiling, work-coat brother
Treated as vilely, words as strong
I'll utter. Can you prove me wrong?"