four dances last night, fell in love, and dreamed that I was kissing my partner. Die! why you don't think I mean to die because I sent for you to make my will, Old Crab? I'm not dead yet, nephey Bat-I am not dead yet.' 'I will tell you a piece of my mind,' quoth Old Crab; 'the sooner you are dead the better for the reputation of ages past; you may be taken for a sample of what women were formerly, and bring more disgrace upon our greatgrandmothers than their share comes to, galloping about at this time o' day to balls, routs, and masquerades; I wonder what the plague ails you, for my part, or what the devil is come to a parcel of old bones! Come, send the crockery away, if a will is to be made.' Upon which the old lady rang her bell, and having cleared the breakfast table, the butler put an inkstand under Old Crab's nose, who, dipping his pen therein, and taking a sheet of paper, said, 'Now, aunt, what is your will? what d'ye mean to do with your money?' 'Why,' said she, 'folks are apt to part with their money when they can keep it no longer: John, you tell me, is upon good ground, and like to keep so-and a man worth three-and-twenty thousand pounds a year has enough and to spare for himself and his children; there is my nephew Lamsbroke too is rolling in money; and as for my lord, he would spend Mexico in one day and Peru in another, and not know where to find money to buy a supper before he went to bed; besides, these good folks never come near me, never make any inquiries after me no more than if I had a ton of marble upon my bones-not they; I know as little of them and care as little: they all live at a vast distance from me, certainly, but a kind letter now and then would comfort my old soul: you have always been a kind and dutiful nephey, taken care of my money, done all my business all my me, little matters, saved me all expense and all trouble, and moreover put three hundred pounds a-year to my income by your skill and knowledge in the money markets-you, therefore, I make my heir, who ought to have all that John enjoys at this moment, if my brother had not listened, like a hot-headed fool, to Lord Budemere, who, to tell you a secret, was the sole cause of your being turned out of your estates: I tell you this that you may take no trouble in that man's matters, who has been the greatest enemy that you ever had to your back. In the first place, aunt,' quoth Old Crab, I have to say that this thing is no secret to me, for I

for

VOL LXXXI.-NO. CCCCXCV.

found a packet of letters, and their answers, among John's papers, when I settled his matters, that told me everything in the next, I have to add that I will have none of your money, madam: what I have done I have done, but I will have none of your money: John lets me have my farm cheap, and I have improved my church: I have enough, and will take none of your money, not I.' 'Highty, tighty,' quoth the old lady, 'none of my money, quoth-a: why, you don't know what is good, nephey-you don't know what is good; not take any of my money! O' my conscience 'tis the first time a bag of gold ever went a-begging! For the shame of the world and the speech of the people! what will folks say if I leave my money to another after all you have done for me? Who will tell my story for me after my bones are dry, when some fleering coxcomb shall lift his foot upon my tombstone and say, here lies an old toad under a slab that deserved to be buried under a dog kennel-how she used her nephey Bat after all he had done for her, a man that would ride five hundred miles on end upon a full gallop to come and cut her corns for her! an old harridan, to cut such a man off with a shilling! My Lady Wixwax and I had a world of talk upon this matter the other evening over a dish of gunpowder-tea, but I believe neither of us heard one word of what the other said for four hours, for we both talked together the whole time: seeing how matters were like to go, we agreed, at last, to take it by turns to hold one another's tongues in the sugarnippers: gracious heaven! how Lady Wixwax did run on after the ninth dish of gunpowder! I paid her off, though, when it was my turn to nip, though her tongue quivered all the while between my fingers as if I had got hold of the tail of a snake ! Never trust me, nephey Bat, if I think there is a woman beneath the silent sun that can talk so long, so lively, and so loud as the old Countess of Wixwax. We came both of us at last upon one thing dab, phiz., that you was the man for my money; and if you will not take it, or take it into your own family, I shall not go out of the world with a quiet soul.' 'What have I done to deserve your money,' quoth Old Crab, 'what the plague have I done to deserve your money? I'll have none of your money.' 'My name,' quoth the old virgin,' will offend above ground after my body is turned into snuff and my coffin into a snuff-box; I cannot abide ingratitude, nephey Bat: what did I know about worldly matters? I should

H

"Now, upon the arrival of Old Crop and Old Crab at Skeleton House, for that was the name of his aunt Biddy's palace, he found the old lady's carriage at the door, and her already dressed in her best tackle to go to a ball. Now at that time the clock struck ten, and the cock had been upon the perch an hour: Aunt Biddy,' quoth Old Crab, after the usual ceremonies of salutation, I am come to make your will' and cast thereupon his eye over a gay knot of artificial flowers stuck with an air into the old lady's cap. Hæ, hæ, nephey,' quoth the frisky old lass with a smile, it will be time enough for that to-morrow, I am going to a dance in the neighbourhood:' when, giving her people orders to take care of Old Crab and Old Crop, the old lady stept into her carriage with a little more alacrity than her aged limbs could well afford, that complained in half-a-dozen loud cracks that they were in no such skipping humour. Old Crab sucked up his cheeks at the gay old lady, who scuttled into her coach too quickly to leave him any time for a reply. The next morning at breakfast, Aunt Biddy,' quoth Old Crab, d'ye mean to dance into your grave with a tabor and pipe? In the devil's name, d'ye know how old you are?' 'Past fifteen, nephey,' quoth the merry old virgin with a smile. Past fifteen!' quoth Old Crab; 'd'ye know how many fifteens there are in ninety?' 'I love the age of fifteen so well,' quoth she, 'that I don't care how often it comes over.' 'You have got it in your head it seems,' quoth Old Crab, 'that it is time to make your will; now, look ye, madam, if you can get the fiddles out of your brains I have a world of work on my hands, and could be glad to come to the business:' upon which he went on to tell her that he had a great deal to do for her nephew Lord Budemere, who was running post haste to the devil. His lordship should have come there long ago,' quoth she, for everybody said that he took the nearest way whenever he gets there, however, he will be sure to meet with a warm reception, for he and the devil are old friends; hand and glove, nephey Bat, on the best of terms. You have another lame dog to help over a stile, then, it seems, nephey Bat; but John is upon good ground again, you tell me. Yes, but this is the most confounded business of the two by much,' quoth Old Crab; 'I have just written to the blockhead, and told him that I must put him on spare diet these ten years, before I can get this lame dog

upon all fours again. I got disinherited, and kicked out of the kingdom, for giving that very advice, which, if taken, had saved my sister's fortune; that, and all the money the frugal old lord left, is spent: but come to the will -it has been high time any day these last forty years.' 'Accidents may happen, nephey,' quoth she, 'accidents may happen to the youngest of us all.' 'Accidents may happen!' thundered Old Crab; 'ay, you may die in a ballroom, and be fiddled into eternity: the devil take these colt's teeth, how they stick in your mouth, old woman! What d'ye mean to do with your money? 'tis time you thought about it while the spark of life sticks in your old tinder, if a serious thought can come into such a bedlam.' Come, come, Old Crab,' quoth aunt Biddy, 'will you never leave off spitting brimstone and sulphur? Will you never leave off galloping, dancing, rigging and romping amongst the boys and girls? answer me that, old female. What money have you in your banker's hands?' 'Not a groat,' said aunt Biddy. Not a groat!' quoth Old Crab;' why, how the plague can you contrive to spend three thousand pounds a-year? answer me that, ye old romp.' 'I never was a miser, nephey,' quoth the old lady; but you know, who manage all my money matters, madcap as I am, that I never once outran the constable and, truly, what is money good for? how can we put a penny to a better use than to call one's friends about one's house, and make them all happy, hæ, nephey Bat? if one is merry and wise, hæ, nephey Bat?' 'You are merry enough,' quoth Old Crab, if you were but as wise, and old enough too to be more of the one and less of the other, to my thinking.' 'Why, look you, nephey, the more merry the more wise, that's my motto, though it mayn't be so much to your liking.-I give a ball to-morrow, and tonight I am going to a masquerade, so if you please we will come to parish business as soon as we have done breakfast. I may die, hæ, nephey Bat? I may die; the youngest of us all may die, nephey Bat, hæ, hæ, hæ, nephey Bat! Whereupon the old lass clapt her hand gaily on Old Crab's shoulder, and sang the following staves:

[We omit the old lady's song as peculiar.]

'What d'ye think of that? hah, hah. nephey Bat?' 'A merry old cat!" quoth Old Crab. 'Merry! ay, nephey,' quoth aunt Biddy, 'I danced

thrown there and deserted by his mother in one of her good humours, to take his chance for a nurse of a better temper yes-called by his eries, picked him up, wrapped the baby in his handkerchief, and put him into his great-coat pocket; the lad, knowing Old Crab's way, smiled while Old Crab shook his oaken towel over his head, and had little need be bid to take care of Old Crop and her foal, for he owed Old Crab quite as much as he could ever pay if he lived to the age of Methuselah. 'I hope, Mr Bartho lomew,' said Mr Grove, when he came in, 'you have not been beating poor Will; he is one of the best lads in the world.' 'No, no,' quoth Old Crab, ‘ 'I've

done the scoundrel no hurt, not I.

If

you were to see the lad weep, and hear him call you his kind father, as poor Will often does in my presence, I am sure you would not hurt him,' said Mr Grove. 'He comes after one of my wenches,' quoth Old Crab, ‘and makes the baggage as idle as she can hang together; I'll break his bones next time I catch him in my kitchen. Your second bell has rung, why the devil don't your villains bring in the victuals?' At that moment the butler, with four or five more servants at his tail, came in with the dinner; they all smiled at the sight of Old Crab for some reason or other, who seized a knife and fork, and put half a pound of boiled beef upon his plate the moment after he had said grace. As soon as dinner was over, Old Crab, at the earnest desire of Mr and Mrs Grove, gave a very particular account of all he had done for his brother John, at which Mr and Mrs Grove expressed great

satisfaction."

The pretty spark called George is the lover of Julia, Old Crab's daughter, who leads on her reverend parent's farm a most primitive and pastoral life, going a-milking duly at morn and dewy eve. The road from Hindermark to the castle lies through some of Old Crab's meadows, along which George frequently passes, and, somehow or other, Julia's cows never will stand still properly to be milked, except near this road. One day George sees Julia sitting there under a tree busy about something, and, stealing behind her, finds she is drawing his likeness, commenting upon it in an audible soliloquy highly flattering to the original. Of course, spoon as he is (and we are sorry to say that a more contemptible piece of correctness was never brought up under

the auspices of an aged grandmother except another hero, who appears somewhat later as a lover in the story, a Mr Harry Lamsbroke, who outspoons all other spoons)--spoon as George is, he cannot hear his own warm praises from such pretty lips without making to them his equally warm acknowledgments-much to the surprise of poor Julia. However, the course of their Arcadian loves is far from smooth. Old Crab, coming to the oak, witnesses their endearments, and posts off to apprise Mr Grove, and to propose a match between the young people; but Mr Grove looks higher for George, and Old Crab forbids Julia to see him. However, as we are informed, "fathers and mothers, and duty and obedience, fly like moths about love's torch, and at last into it, and get burned to death." So the lovers often meet at milking time, spite of paternal prohibitions.

--

Julia and her love, however, are but subordinate to the principal female figure, the most wonderful heroine ever met with in or out of a romance -a Miss Genevieve de Roma- wonderfully rich, wonderfully strong, and wonderfully beautiful. She is six feet high, yet of perfeet symmetry-a splendid brunette, with a fortune which, under the fostering care of that universal steward, is, has expanded to fabulous dimenOld Crab, whose niece and ward she sions. Of course she has a host of lovers, whose advances she receives more after the fashion of a shepanther, or a man-hating Amazon, than a modern young lady, treating them so roughly, whenever they presume to touch her hand, that they are, for the most part, glad to get out of her presence with whole bones -after which we are not surprised at the honest chronicler telling us that "she was rather to be gazed and wondered at than to be loved." The only man at that time worthy of her love in all England must, we think, have been Tom Cribb, then in the full flush of his youthful strength and science. However, after a succession of lovers as unlike Cribb as possible, fine gentlemen, foreign noblemen, and sentimental young clergymen, Genevieve returns to the north,

at the close of a London season, with her fancy still free, though she has committed awful ravages in the hearts of the other sex. One of Genevieve's conquests is made in very reverend society. Here is the scene :

"Genevieve fixed her bright eyes on this handsome young clergyman, who had not as yet run his head into a great wig, however a great wig might run in his head; she saw him stare at her, but presently to take his eyes off, and, though he had a fair opportunity of sitting next her, and she gave him one of her sweet glances to coax him to her side, she had the mortification to see him file off, and take a chair close by the old maid on the other side of the table. She felt this very sensibly, but took no notice. Mr Smith was related to the dean, and he had introduced him to her. At this reverend table, Genevieve seemed to be unusually alone, and actually sat silent for want of one to converse with her, after a little talk, and a glass of wine, with the good old dean. On each side of her sat two great wigs, full of powder and very terrible; and Genevieve looked at one, and then at the other, and was sure there must be a great deal in them if she knew how to get it out. The talk, as far as she could hear, ran upon very grave matters, which the Reverend Doctor Blow, who sat on her left, kept pretty much in his own hands, conversing directly across her nose with the Reverend Doctor Boarcole, who sat on her

right: now Doctor Boarcole was a little

hard of hearing, and Doctor Blow was fain to lean towards him when he spoke, who, out of politeness, met him half way, which inclination on both parts brought their great wigs over Genevieve's face in such a manner as to cast her under a total eclipse of hair, during a great part of the time she sat at the table; for Doctor Blow and Doctor Boarcole presently fell into an argument upon the divine right of tithes, which waxed so warm, that the two doctors, during the heat thereof, frequently gave Genevieve a brush on either cheek with the eaves of their wigs which, mixing their white powder with her jetty locks on both sides, might induce a belief on one who knew nothing of the matter, that Genevieve had got kissed by both the doctors at once to keep her face steady, for the ladies have a trick of turning their faces away when they are kissed, a thing very well known to all doctors in divinity, who may wear great wigs to hide the ladies' blushes, else what use can they be of? Now if Doctor Blow

had fixed his lips on one cheek, and Doctor Boarcole on the other, their wigs would have met over Genevieve's nose! No such fun for Genevieve, however; who, during the argument, came in for a very small share of attention. It has been said, when there is a contest between two, nobody can long stand neuter, that is, without siding with one or the other of the combatants: Doctor Blow had cast his eyes twice on Genevieve, and Doctor Boarcole four times during the discussion, whereupon Doctor Boarcole was Genevieve's man, and she felt pleased whenever he gave Doctor Blow a shrewd turn; and whether her smiles of applause upon Doctor Boarcole invigorated the doctor's wit and genius, or the loss of them discouraged Doctor Blow, Doctor Boarcole certainly overturned Doctor Blow, who, converting his attention to a slice of plum-pudding and Madeira sauce, put such a great bit into his mouth at once as might very well make it a doubt whether it had

been stopt by argument or by pudding."

This young clergyman makes some impression on the magnificent amazon's heart; but on finding that a poor young woman is pining to death for love of this faithless son of the church, who had been engaged to her before the sight of her splendid rival caused him to forget his vows, Genevieve takes leave of him, and insists on his marrying his former fiancée forthwith, which he does, and shortly

Mean

after dies of a broken heart. time, Genevieve grows more and more stony-hearted out of suspicion that her admirers are attracted by her fortune -a groundless hallucination which we have known many amiable young women of property labour under.

"Ah Beauty,' quoth Old Comical one day to Genevieve, for so he always called her Radiance, who is to come in at last for all that's between your cap and pattens?' 'Why, John,' said she, 'what's between my cap and pattens is the least of the matter; if the men could get hold of my money, the sooner I were thrown, cap and pattens, into the next ditch the better; it is what they are all after; how is such a rich gypsy as I am to know who is sincere? and who will offer, after all, that is worth having, while all this money lies in my lap?' 'Ah Beauty,' quoth Old Comical, as music is the caper sauce to a country-dance, so it is the chiming of the guineas in a woman's apron that sets the men a-prancing