cipitous hill, crowned by the Green Man, famed for its spacious ballroom, and long, low, and narrow tea-room, where bad hyson, worse coffee, and discourse as slip-slop, regaled, in those days, the half-gentry of the vicinity. We live in an age of improvement-not too often meeting with (even) half-gentry now. Small thought had the Doctor on matters like these. Leaving behind him the dense atmosphere which London spreads around itself so far, he found the air clear as he approached L'Homme Vert, and the sky enlightened by "the poetry of heaven," as Byron called the stars, though he did not prove them so. The Doctor's admiration of their beams was more prosaic; he felt grateful for any means of descrying the objects near him, and so gaining time, that he might screw his courage to the sticking place, whatever place that may be: for, veracious as he had ever been till this perilous night, he did intend sticking, or rather whipping, if forced to defend his money with his life. Gaining the hill's top, before him lay the long straight road that led to his own house. Shooter's hill was dimly visible, and the light colour of the soil, contrasted with the dark sward on either side, enabled him to perceive two men on horseback, their faces towards London, stationed one on either side of his path. "I have fallen among the Philistines!" inwardly ejaculated the Doctor, casting a wistful look at the inn; not a solitary candle denoted that any one was still awake there. His heart beat violently as he passed between the horsemen, who, instantly turning their steeds, sidled up to the carriage. In a moment he recognised the pair he had previously overtaken. "Arcades ambo, id est, blackguards, both," he would have quoted, had the line then been written; yet, although cold perspiration ran down his ample forehead, and excitement nearly choked his utterance, he lost not his self-commanding, ready-witted presence of mind. "Well met again, Sirs," he began; "you have not made up your minds to proceed, I see-wish you had, for I should have been happy in your company." "How far do you go to-night?" asked the one called captain. "Why, whether I get so far as Rochester, or not, must depend upon circumstances." "I see by your hat," said the other, "that you belong to the clergy. Is your living in Kent?" "Yes, I get my living in Kent," laughed the Doctor; "I belong to St. Nicholas, who, I presume, is your patron saint, gentlemen." This innocent ruse was unintelligible to its hearers. W-- found that he must suit his conversation to his company, with so heavy a stake depending on the chance of the party coming to an agreeable understanding that is, a misunderstanding on one side, agreeably safe for the other. Accordingly he said, with much significance, "This hat of mine stands me in good stead; it covers more than you think; and this old-fashioned chaise holds more than a new-fangled gig could. A man might manage to stow away a good many pieces of bandanas under the seat, when going to leave cards from Mechlin or Valenciennes, on ladies in town. D'ye happen to know a woman at Chatham who goes by the name of Mother Moonshine, gentlemen ?" "I believe I've heard of such a person," said the captain. "Ah-well, if ever you should want anything, either in the shape of dry goods, or a tub or two of white Nantz, I could introduce you to her." "Thank you kindly," said one. "You know the road thoroughly, it seems ?" added the other. "Every bush on it, my masters; but it isn't what it used to be, when Slim Billy took his airings late. They wern't good for his health in the end, though." t "What, did you know poor Bill ?" asked the captain. Aye, that I did—and was with him to the last." "You be hanged! at least Bill was." Nay, Sir, that's as ugly a word for me to hear, as for you to use,” took up the Doctor, his heart set on conciliating his fellow travellers; aye, even in my quiet smug way, those who don't live slaves to the rules laid down by the twelve, can't remember poor Bill's end without queer feelings; but I was given leave to be with him at the very tree, we shall pass it presently, not far from the castle. 'Doctor,' says he to me" "Doctor!" shouted the henchman. "To be sure, he knew my travelling name, as well as I knew he was called the Pride of the Green. 'Doctor,' says he, 'if ever you meet any of my old cronies, tell 'em I died like a man; and as for the parson, you shall have it to swear that all I said here, from first to last, was to you; so, if any of the chaps are ever going to treat you uncivilly, you just cry, Onion sauce!' they'll know my pass-word.' "None of your sauce, my fair trader," said the captain, "that word won't pass now, if ever it did; 'tis my belief, Slim Billy was game to the end, and humbugged you." cr Lord, Sir," said the Doctor, "did you never hear why he chose that pass?" 66 No; but if you can tell us, out with it." "You see, as our friend-my friend-William, I should say, gentlemen, drew the principal part of his revenue, collected in his rents, on Shoulder of Mutton Green,* he thought onion sauce the fittest garnish for his favourite dish." "The wag! that's just like him," laughed his former associates, and the Doctor, per force, laughed with them. Brown George, with home in perspective, had stepped out manfully, or rather horsefully, so that our trio had made considerable way across the uninclosed portion of the heath, during their "colloquy divine." An isolated public-house, denominated "the Sun in the Sands," stood on the left side of the road, about midway from the commencement of Blackheath to the bottom of Shooter's Hill. This house, like the Bell at Hounslow, was, in those days, a chosen resort of " the Trojans who took purses, either singly or running in couples. The inhabitants of this hostel were seldom" objective to the garish eye of day; but from gloaming till dawn, at the service of all accredited customers. The belated wayfarer might have applied for meat or drink in vain, while knights of the post found jugs of smoking spicy wine, glasses of curious Cognac, and divers other comforts fit to drown the qualms of conscience, with all other ills which the breathers of night air are heirs to." * This green lies at the bottom of Shooter's Hill on the Dover side. "Ned," said the captain, who rode on the Doctor's left, "can't you and I persuade our friend to stop and wet his whistle at the baiting crib ?" "In course; he won't part company when he knows he's got gentlemen of the right sort going down the road with him,-eh, Doctor?" To enter this house, where his person was known, not only as a clergyman but as a justice of peace, would have been fatal to my revered friend's "'Cognito." Almost within sight of his home to be detected as an impostor by perhaps a host of desperadoes at another sacrifice of truth he must, if possible, evade such a catastrophe. "You're very kind, my good friends," said he, "but you know as well as I do, there are secrets in all trades. Sharp, the landlord, is a straight up, right down honest fellow in his way, but we had a bit of a tiff lately about a small parcel of Hollands, and I swore that I'd never set foot in his house again. However, don't let that hinder you. I shan't have got to the top of the hill before you have taken your swig, and come up with me.” "No, deuce take it!" said the captain; "we're not so unsociable as to drink without you,-why, you're one of us, I may say." "Proud of the compliment, Sir; but, if it's all one to you, instead of my drinking your brandy there, let me stand treat. I can promise ye as fine a bowl of bishop as ever wetted lips; fit drink for me, eh? Come on to the Bull." "They'll all be snoozing by this time," demurred Ned. 66 "Not all," said the Doctor, with an insinuating air; for, between friends, and it goes no farther, I'm expected to-night. Old Dame Dudgeon is rather particular in her laces. I carried her a piece of black t'other day, which don't hit her fancy; she wants me to take it back, for Mother Moonshine to change it, so Dame's sitting up for me; and any friends of mine will be right welcome, therefore let Sharp go to bed, or to any other place you like, gentlemen; but we're for the Bull." They were now abreast of the Sun, yet, to his inexpressible relief, the others did not pull bridle. A heavily laden waggon was seen advancing: drowning men catch at straws; my nearly exhausted hero derived consolation from the idea that no violence could be offered him while this machine was near, guarded by one man if not more. The old horse put his best foot foremost. The strangers interchanged some words in a patois or slang, of which their auditor was ignorant, and the foot of the hill was gained! The Doctor's brain reeled, his unwelcome companions had hitherto preserved the positions they had originally assumed. His aim was now to get rid at least of the man at his right, the side on which his own house stood. Accordingly, when within a hundred yards of it, he said to him, "Now, Sir, if you will ride forward, and knock lustily at the Bull door, it will be open long before this sluggard of a horse of mine can drag me there." A bright notion," said Ned, and trotted off to obey the instructions. This was a great point gained, but, scarcely was it achieved, when, to his unutterable satisfaction, our Doctor beheld a lantern at his wished for gate, borne by his sturdy male factotum, followed by the powerful yard-dog, Neptune. Their master could scarcely breathe for agitation; every moment seemed an age till he arrived at the opened gate, when suddenly turning to his companion, he said— "Thank you for your company, Sir; but, as I am at home now, I can wish you a good night, with pleasure!" The fellow, completely taken aback by these words, and the sight of the servant, and the dog, and the lantern, galloped furiously after his second, who was, sure enough, thundering away at the Bull door. “Ride, Ned, ride on, you fool!" yelled the captain. "We're done, -bit,-floored." A moment, and he was joined by his brother in arms. The Doctor's servant, by his master's directions, followed their course to the top of the hill, and saw them rushing down its steep declivity, as if pursued by Justice herself mounted on Eclipse. My excellent preceptor used to narrate this adventure most powerfully, dwelling with gratitude on his preservation; with modesty,-nay, with some half-comic penitence-on the conduct and courage to which, as his elêves were not training for the church, they naturally and justly yielded their unqualified admiration. BENSON E. HILL. TAKE YOUR POLITICS HENCE. BY T. HAYNES BAYLY, ESQ. TAKE your politics hence, for one evening at least, Little orator Puffs in a snug coterie; If you name your vile house you will give me offence, These politics now are become quite a pest; But then-do you think he'd chime in with Lord G. ?" The ladies are now a political race; They think of their canvass much more than their lace, And we'll tell the fair creatures to talk common sense, Aug.-VOL. I. NO. CC. 2 N PERDITUS MUTTON; WHO BOUGHT A CAUL." BY DOUGLAS JERROLD. CHAP. I. PERDITUS MUTTON sat in his solitary chamber, with serious eyes bent upon the "London Post "-the journal of the day; the day being the fifth of November, in the year of our regeneration, seventeen hundred and sixty. "A Child's Caul. "To be disposed of, a Child's Caul: price five guineas. Apply to Miriam Birdseye, Hog Lane, Shoreditch." Such, reader, were the golden tidings suddenly beaming on the delighted orbs of Perditus Mutton. Now, be it known, that Perditus Mutton had long thought to become a voyager. He had read the marvels of Mandeville and Purchas-of Hakluyt and Coryate; and he had no wife to hold him in her white arms-no children to tug at his coatskirts-no fire-side gods to fix him at his hearth. He would therefore cross the perilous sea: he would, with his proper ears, listen to the singing of the mermaids; and, sauntering on Asiatic plains, with his own eyes behold the grazing unicorns. All here was dull, cold, faded—all there was luscious, genial, radiant. Perditus had brought an unsuspectin mind-a credulous heart--to the nairations of his darling travellers; they had been to him oracles of truth; their wonders dwelt in his brain, writ with an iron pen in rock. He had given himself a bondsman to those high-priests of fairy-land, the old travellers; the grave tellers of unknown glories; the dreamers, cum privilegio, of rosy dreams. Rare Marco Polo-glorious Mendez Pinto! authorized necromancers-lawful magicians-makers of innocent griffins-guileless dragons! Men, who have seen the phoenix waste in her odoriferous nest, and have watched the birth of the young pullet! Yes, to Perditus Mutton, the old traveller was truth itself on a pilgrimage. Perditus had sworn fealty to the happy man who had heard the syrens sing--who had beheld armies of pigmies mounted on cranes -who had known the ostrich to hatch her eggs by the heat of her eyes --who had seen a king stared to death by a basilisk-a porcupine transfix a roaring lion by a quill shot dexterously through and through its heart. He would have travelled round the globe to kiss the feet of the good bishop Pontoppidan, the worthy ecclesiastic, who, musing on the coast of Norway, did behold a merman rise from the sea, who sang for two hours" and more." For a long time Perditus had determined upon setting forth a traveller. Yet, in his highest hopes, he would feel a pang that brought him to the earth again. England was, unhappily, an island; and qualms came upon his heart as he thought of the weltering main. At least three times a-year, for ten years past, had he dreamt of storm and shipwreck, and had awakened with the sea gurgling in his wind-pipe-singing in his ears. "A child's caul! five guineas!" He would straightway go to Hog Lane, Shoreditch, and so defy even destiny. That he had never before thought of that amulet against sinking, |