combs his hair straight down like a methodist parson. He always does when he's serious.” "What do you mean, Phil?" "Eh? don't you know? why, whenever he gets into trouble, and can't get a character, he puts an advertisement into the Newspapers, Wants a situation in a pious, regular family, in a place where the Gospel is preached, a young man of serious views, who can wait at table and milk a cow.'-Well, some old woman, in petticoats or out of them, is sure to hire him the next day; he goes to his place with a bundle of Tracts under his arm, humbugs the mistress, kisses the maids, and by then he has milked the cow dry (he knows no more of milking than your red nightcap does), he has contrived to pack up the silver spoons and forks, and then,— hey presto, pass!'-and away he goes. He has regularly cleaned out six old cats this way, to my certain knowledge, during the last two years." "That's a choice way of doing business certainly; and I suppose Mrs. Becket up yonder is to be the next....Ha! you baggage! who sent for you?"— (this was addressed to Nelly, who had crept up unperceived, during the previous conversation, and who had only just been observed by her father.) "If you don't get to bed, and lie still there, you shall have a taste of this," added the brute, doubling his fist. Nelly's countenance, which had been marked by an expression of eager curiosity as she listened to Pipes, at once assumed that of stolid idiocy, and she slunk away muttering to her bed, and soon slept or appeared to sleep. 66 66 'Why as to that," observed Phil, in continuation, we have rather bungled the business. While we were at Brighton, Phil had nearly filed through the bars of the pantry window, and Jennett and I-(you know Jennett) were to have got in, and taken the things off all quiet and comfortable; but Jennett got into trouble about a job at Shoreham, and then the old lady left her house before anything could be settled. They say she ran away from the beggars, but I reckon, Jack, it won't be your fault if she don't find that she has got out of the frying-pan into the fire.” "She's well known to our people certainly," observed Mr. Roe. "Well, she's a good old soul," answered Philomel rather sentimentally, "and I wouldn't see a hair of her head injured: she gave me five pounds for my six orphan children when I was drowned off Beachy Head: but she's quite a fool about her money,-not fit to be trusted with it; and there's some rather heavy plate, and....in short, if we dont have it, somebody else will,-and in the course of nature she can't keep it long; and when she's dead and gone, it can't matter to her who has it." With this choice specimen of morality on his lips, Tom Pipes threw himself back on his chair, and invited Mrs. Batterflaps to prepare a broiled bone, and supply him with hot brandy and water. He then proceeded in his conversation; but as the result of it will appear in the sequel, and the reader has been made sufficiently acquainted with the character of the inmates of the Dog and Duck, the present chapter may be brought to a conclusion. CHAPTER VI. Real and Unreal. An unlessoned girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd; Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; and happier than this, SHAKSPERE. THE inquiry, which the Warden instituted with respect to Susan Allen, had the effect, not only of establishing the entire correctness of her statement, but of making the Board of Guardians better acquainted with Mr. Venham's real character than had hitherto been the case. The history of the Allens was a melancholy one. The father, who was a very respectable man, and in good business as a Baker at Berkingholt, became, in an evil hour, surety for a relation who subsequently WARDEN OF BERKINGHOLT. 117 fled the country, carrying with him a considerable sum of the public money. The Crown, of course, came upon Mr. Allen for the deficiency, and he was left without a shilling in the world. The poor man was in bad health at the time this catastrophe befel him; the shock was greater than his constitution was able to stand; and he only entered the work-house, to die there at the end of a few weeks, of a broken heart his friendless widow soon followed him; and his two orphan children were left a burden on the parish. The eldest, a proud, high-spirited, and violent-tempered boy became the object of Mr. Venham's special antipathy, probably, because he had more independence about him than suited that worthy official's views of what a pauper's spirit ought to be. Accordingly, Mr. Venham exercised all sorts of petty tyranny against him, set him to the most menial offices, wounded his feelings in all conceivable ways, and subjected him to every indignity which he thought would be most galling, and which his office gave him the power to inflict. Occasionally the unhappy lad resented such treatment, and once had audacity enough to complain to Mr. Livingstone, the Chairman of the Board of Guardians, of the master's cruelty. It was the lamb appealing to the wolf. Venham was Mr. Livingstone's protege, and like the sovereign himself, could do no wrong. The unfortu |