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In the street the tide of being how it hustles, how it rolls! Gents with staring "Sydenham trousers," beggara, 'busmen, thieves, and trolls;

In this stream of human being, banked by plate-glassfronted shops,

Flatt'ning nose against a window do I gaze on mutton. chops!

I'd loved her three days silently-but now love fain would speak In the quiv'ring lip of boyhood-the flush on boyhood's Sniffing up the grateful savour of the beef that's alamode, cheek; Eating luscious mental mouthfuls of imaginary food; I'd never breathed my love till now-my coward heart did Gazing through the glass with envy on the knife of Sheffield

fail

Till there, unto my gentle Jane, I breathed the tender tale.

One arm was round her slender waist-the balmy summer breeze

Played with her dancing ringlets as it murmured through the
trees-

I pressed her hand within my own, till, answering to its grasp,
I felt the small hand tremble ere it thrilled me with its clasp.

I vowed love's vows with lover's truth-I swore that I
would be

For ever faithful to the love told 'neath that linden tree;
"Oh! give," I cried, "my gentle Jane, one tress of flaxen
hair,

That love o'er love's unquiet heart that token aye can wear.
""Twould cheer thy poet's lonely lot-'twould spar his
spirit on,

Till o'er his path that gas-lamp, Fame, went out or clearer
shone;

Until he claim thee as his bride that token aye he'll wear"-
"I wish you'd asked me, love, before-the barber cut my

hair!

The summer wind was sighing through the shady linden trees,
As down upon the daisied sward I sank upon my knees;
I felt my wild heart's pulses throbbing strongly 'neath my

coat

Like the pistons in the engine-room within the Chelsea boat! While sporting with a flaxen tress, "a boon! a boon !" I cried

"A gage of love-one little lock-oh, be not this denied!" My pocket-knife gleamed 'neath her nose-the daring deed was done

Unto my heart I pressed the lock, and found-'twas not her own!

Oh! foolish heart!-hot tears will start-oh! hollow-hearted
maid!

I think of thee whene'er I rove through Burlington's Arcade;
Whene'er I glance o'er Truefitt's shop my mind is ill at ease,
I think on Truefitt's fair, false curls, and certain linden trees,
Still through those shady linden trees the soft south wind
may sigh;

Unto the merle the mavis there may make a sweet reply;
But nevermore, there nevermore my heart's hope can I fix
On ringlets such as Truefitt makes, and sells at ten and six.

steel

As it cuts through lovely slices of red ham and pallid veal.

'Midst this stream of human being, banked by houses tall and grim,

Pale I stand, this frosty morrow, with red eyes with teardrops dim;

Here I stand with empty stomach, as the rich man passeth
by-

With a vision of hashed venison flitting o'er his mental eye-
Walking homeward to French dishes, whose variety grows

stale,

While I count my coppers sadly for one glass of Alton Ale!

I could make my empty stomach a poor mark for scorn and sneers,

I could wet my mental whistle with imaginary "beers ;" Once before with hunger maddened I despised the glazier's art,

And, furious as a hungry dog, I grabbed at pie and tart.

Soon I filled my empty stomach. O'er the fragments of his pies

Leaped the cook, with imprecations on a starving outcast's

eyes;

Dragged me off to Bow-street station, choking till I scarce could speak,

With his pies within this stomach, and his knuckles on this neck;

Told "the beak" lean hunger's story-how I'd smashed his window fine,

And devoured his "muttons" gratis-that I paid for in
'lang syne;"

Sentence-six months oakum-picking, in a habitation snug
Of a felon-manufactory, ye call the "NEW STONE JUG."

I could make his words-my sentence-a wide mark for scorn and sneers;

I did "gammon" the Gaol Chaplain with well-counterfeited tears;

I did leave the prison-pious with his prayers for future
weal,

And the Government's permission to beg, or starve, or steal!
Oh! if I were now as once, sir, ere my money all was gone,
I could play commercial "thimble-rig" and do the public
brown;

148

THE MEETING-HYMN OF THE HOUSES.

I could laugh to scorn the treadmill, and the arm-fatiguing | Now, pæans sing-the day is ours- Pam is no longer crank, "game,"

And could dub myself Director of some "BRITISH BRIGANDS' Hayter hath cried out "Quarter"-(or " Divide"-it's much BANK !"

'Midst the stream of human being, banked by houses tall and grim,

Pale I stand this winter's morning with red eyes with teardrops dim;

Eager plead I for" a trifle" to the worldlings' hollow hearts, Flatt'ning nose against the window, whence I filched those pies and tarts.

Now the world is all before me-and the mutton-chops as well

Whispers head-" be honest !"-stomach another tale doth tall:

the same),

Their ranks are breaking like a flock of sheep before a dog, The floor is strewn with ill-worked sums from Lewis "Chequer Log."

Then Dizzy thought on vengeance, and all along his van, "Remember Eighteen Fifty-two," was passed from man to

man;

But out spake gentle Palmerston-"No member is my foe, Down with the grumbling public, but let our brethren go. Give me my own way, Ben beloved, and should a place occur To give away, it shall be thine without the least demur. Two men of talent like ourselves should brethren sworn be; I'd part with Grey or Clarendon, ere I'd cross my sword with thee."

Through the window steamed and greasy will I dash my cold, Then Dizzy clasped the Premier's hand within his jewelled

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Down all the House a deaf'ning shout of "Order! hush'! hear, hear!"

paws,

For office was a dearer thing to him than Queen or laws.
Oh! was there ever such a peer for English eyes to see
As Henry John, Lord Viscount Pam, for Tiverton, M.P.?
And the "country party" worshipped at the shrine of Pam
the clever,

And political millennium seemed nearer now than ever,
And Napier in his shooting-coat, and huge starch-stiffened
gills,

Thought this much finer fun by far than the Russians' iron

pills;

And he showed his high hilarity in his most facetious way, Exclaiming "Blank my blank blank eyes-now here's the

deuce to pay.

Now blow me tight, I'd wonder not if I get a fleet once more,

To'rile' Sir James, and do again—just what I did before!" And patriotic M.P.'s think, "If thus good things come round,

Perhaps we'll get berths also on the ministerial ground,— You'll choose the Navy,' I "the War," abolish lazy hives; (Retiring on annuities for the remainder of our lives.)

And Pellatt for the second time doth bonnet poor Locke King,

Emphatic as aforetime, when he'd said some wond'rous thing. "And if our one and fourpence fall-as fall it may full well, And the knight of the "succession law" starts up with For I see much enmity abroad against our G.C.L.

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Hurrah! the foe is moving-hark to the mingled squeak Of Dizzy's pumps, and Russell's voice, and Pam's tongue within his cheek,

From "the Reform" club Gibson hies within a Hansom cab, With all the noisy chivalry of Manchester to blab.

"Now by the seals ye love so well, Conservatives be true, Charge for the Treasury benches, and make the varlets rue!" See still they menace and they roar against the man of wax, Against Sir G. C. Lewis, the scape-goat of the tax.

curses deep,

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CHAPTER I.

THE BEGGARS AND THE BETROTHED.

"TIs a lovely night, Tovalito; see how brightly the stars are shining! Many a worse night than this have I slept beneath their canopy, with nothing but my cloak for a covering; and I will venture to say that I slept as well, if not better, than many of those grand signors now assembled in yonder mansion ever slept on their downy beds; and, please God, I will make my couch this blessed night upon this green turf, with the sod for my pillow, and the heaven's for my roof," said Paco Rosales, stretching himself on the sward in front of a large mansion, situated near Valencia, the ancient city of the Cid, in the midst of its own gardens, which were watered by the Guadalquiver, whilst another mendicant, who had lost his right arm, and was also blind of one eye, stood looking through the windows of the brilliantly illuminated hall of the mansion.

"I am here for the whole night," repeated Paco Rosales, as he drew his tattered cloak around his shoulders. "It cheers me to hear the sound of the flutes, and the tinkling of the violas. Be sides, I like to watch all those great lords and fine ladies going in and coming out, and who knows but we may chance to pick up a handful or two of reals. I did hear this morning, at the door of Notre Dame de los Desemparados, that the Signor Don Antonio de Guevara, in celebration of his marriage, had given alms to be distributed among the poor of Valencia. May God reward him for his charity. Come this way, Tovalito."

"Not I," said the other mendicant, "I can see what's going on much better where I am.

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'But I see a still better place. Come, follow me," urged Paco Rosales, as he crept stealthily along a quickset hedge, which enclosed the garden, in search of a door that opened on the terrace; but finding it locked, he clambered over the hedge into the garden, closely followed by his companion. They then concealed themselves in a thicket, embowered by vines and Spanish jessamines, which formed the inner enclosure of the terrace. The windows of the ball-room, which was on the ground floor, opening on this side, and the Venetian blinds being raised, enabled the two mendicants to see distinctly into the saloon, the walls of which were hung with green garlands and coloured lamps of every hue, whilst suspended from the centre of the ceiling shone a dazzling lustre, blazing with the light of an hundred highly scented wax tapers.

According to ancient custom, at one end of the room, was a raised dais, covered with a rich carpet, around which was a kind of low divan, whereon the women were seated, whilst at the other end the men stood in groups conversing with each other.

"What a grand sight it is, Tovalito, to see all those grandees of Valencia dressed in their rich brocades and hereditary jewels," said Paco Rosales, "though I can't say that I admire all that powder they wear in their hair; nor that stiff ruff the men wear round their necks, such as we see in the pictures of Philip the Fourth."

In the midst of these observations, a new arrival in the ball room struck the two friends dumb with surprise and admiration. A young girl, apparently not more than sixteen, entered leaning upon a fine tall handsome cavalier. As they advanced up the room, the eyes of the whole assembly were directed towards them, whilst exclamations of wonder and admiration greeted them on every side. Evidently abashed by the sensation which her appearance created, the young girl timidly shrunk back, and would have quitted her partner's side, if he, having taken her hand, had not immediately led her to the dance, where soon her slight form was seen moving in graceful undulations through the mazes of the fantastical bolero. This young creature, so remarkable for her beauty, was also distinguished by the simple elegance of her attire. Completely robed in white, she wore no ornament in her hair, which, drawn back from her round fair forehead, fell in jetty ringlets over her ivory shoulders. A single row of costly diamonds, however, encircled her throat. The cavalier with whom she was dancing, and who appeared to watch her with a jealous anxiety, was a young man of high family and great military renown. He was also wealthy, and the heir of vast estates in Portugal. Doubtless many a young girl envied Donna Theresa her good fortune in having so fine and brave a youth as Antonio de Guevara for her future husband.

"My stars!" said Tovalito, opening his one eye still wider than before, "my stars, what magnificence, what grandeur, what wealth there is in that room, and what beautiful ladies! Why they have as many jewels round their necks as would buy up all Valencia, and make the fortunes besides of two such poor creatures as thou and I. Aye, and as would tempt many an honest fellow as good a Christian as ourselves."

"Hold thy tongue," Tovalito, gravely interrupted Paco Rosales, "covetousness is a useless sin. We

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should look at the property of others without stretching out our hands, except for what they give us. Dost thou see Donna Theresa ?-she who is dancing with the tall cavalier dressed in black velvet, with the diamond egret in his hat?"

"Yes, he looks like a crow leading a white dove," answered Tovalito.

66

Thy comparison only holds good with regard to his dress; for he is the handsomest youth in Valencia," replied Paco. "But how pale she looks!" added he; "her partner must be Don Guevara, her affianced husband; I do not know him. Yet, now that I look at him, I think I have seen him before."

"At the door of Notre Dame de los Desemparados ?" asked Tovalito.

"The very place," replied Paco, with a mysterious look; "and for that reason I came here to sce the bridal party. I can tell thee now, that it was not for him the Donna Theresa made such long prayers every morning at the church of Notre Dame."

daughters being unprovided for, their mother, a proud ambitious woman, sooner than they should marry beneath their rank, resolved that they should take the veil. The two eldest of these entered the Benedictine convent. Donna Theresa, the youngest of the sisters, was to have been provided for in the same manner; but when she attained her fifteenth year, every one who saw her saidDonna Theresa is so very beautiful that the widow Vasconcellos will not be under the necessity of providing for her in a nunnery; the signors will be too glad to marry her portionless as she is.' She always came to prayers with her mother at the Notre Dame de los Desemparados. At that time I stood near the door on the third step towards the left; we had held that place from father to son without ever having given cause of offence or complaint, I can say that. When Donna Beatrice and her daughter arrived, I never failed to take off my hat, and say in a respectful tone, Noble descendants of the Cid, charity, in the name of God!' It flattered the old lady's pride to be thus addressed, and she invariably gave me

"Ah! and who told thee that, friend Paco ?" something, and Donna Theresa, putting aside her asked the blind mendicant.

"Never mind, comrade, we respectable beggars who frequent the doors of churches see a great deal which we never talk about."

"Good!" said the other mendicant, as he crossed his only remaining arm over his breast, and closed his one eye with a look of beatitude. "I am going to repose myself; and as no one will come here to disturb us, thou shalt relate me a story-a tale of love."

CHAPTER II.

THE STRANGE LOVER.

"FRIEND Tovalito," said Paco Rosales, much in the same manner as the Sultaness Scheherazade commenced her fine stories, "if I were to relate to thee all the love tales that I know, we should have enough for every night of our lives, but this one that I am going to tell thee, although not less interesting and curious, will not last till the dawn. Now, since we have abundance of time before us, I must first tell thee the genealogy of the Vasconcellos, which many carry back to the time of the Cid Campeador's, but we are not at all agreed upon that, nor does it prevent us, when we ask charity from the family, from saying: For the name of God! have pity upon a poor Christian, noble descendant of the Cid.' It was thus that I always asked alms of Don Diego, a good old Sig. nor, who came to the Church of Notre Dame de los Desemparados, and to which I owe many a handful of reals. It is now about ten years since the worthy old man died, leaving behind him a widow and four daughters, who are still quite young. He did not leave much property to his wife, and that being a small entailed estate, goes to the eldest daughter; so that the three youngest

veil, would drop a maraveda into my hat. Sometimes she would say to me in her low, sweet voice, 'God help thee, my poor man! say a prayer for me at Notre Dame de las Nieves.' And I did pray, Tovalito, that He would bless the young girl, and grant her a good husband, instead of shutting her up between four walls. And I am not sure that He has not heard my prayer; for thou seest that she has found a fine one, young, brave, and rich! Many's the serenade she has had under her window when the old lady was a-bed. I know of four handsome cavaliers who were in love with Donna Theresa, who used to follow her to Notre Dame de los Desemparados, and wait for her outside. But she never looked at one of them, and kept herself closely veiled. I know of another, however, at whom she did look. He was the most persevering of all her admirers. At first she treated him with the same cold indifference she did the others; but one morning this fine, aristocratic-looking Signor, whose name I do not know

for he was a stranger in Valencia-came up to me: Thou art acquainted with the beautiful young lady who goes to church at Notre Dame. Wilt thou give her this note, aud take this for thy trouble?' said he, putting a note and a doubloon into my hand. He spoke so politely, and yet with so much authority that I could not refuse."

"Aye, friend Paco, there is certainly an irresistible authority in a doubloon!" interrupted Tovalito.

"But I was greatly embarassed," continued Paco, without noticing this sarcastic observation, "for I knew not who the Signor was, nor did I know in what manner to accost Donna Theresa.

However, I took my usual station on the third step of Notre Dame, put the paper into my hat, and the doubloon into my pocket, and awaited patiently the arrival of the two ladies. I was not

A ROMANCE OF VALENCIA.

there long when they made their appearance. Dost thou know, Tovalito, that there is a natural cunning in all women, that would deceive and throw any man off his guard? Would'st thou believe it; when Donna Theresa was passing me on her way out of church, she slipped her hand very quietly, without even looking at me, into my hat, and took out the note, leaving in its stead a hand. ful of reals? The strange cavalier, who was standing a step below me, had no occasion to ask if I had performed his commission, for he saw the transaction. A moment afterwards he walked away after the ladies. I saw no more of him for several days after that, till one day that Donna Beatrice had gone to pay her eldest daughter the Countess de Vasconcellos, a visit at Orihuela. I was in my usual place when Donna Theresa came with her duenna to morning prayers, and immediately following her was the young cavalier who had given me the letter ten days before. From that day he came regularly to the morning service, but he gave me no more epistles. Three weeks afterwards the Dowager Countess de Vasconcellos returned to Valencia, and I again lost sight of Donna Theresa's lover. The first Sunday after her return, the old lady was more profuse than usual in her charity, and said to me as she passed me on her way from church, On Thursday morning after Pentecost, I give bread and wine to the poor; come and take thy part of it'"

"It was to-day," interrupted Tovalito.

"I know it; but I did not choose to put my self out for such a trifle. Donna Theresa kept her veil down, so that I did not see her face, but I knew by the sound of her voice that she was weeping Pray to God for me, good Paco,' said she, putting some money into my hat. That following Sunday, when the prayers were over, the reverend father Marco published the banns of marriage between Donna Theresa de Vasconcellos, and Signor Don Antonio de Guevara, and the report was immediately spread that alms were to be distributed at the church door, to the poor, in the name of Don Guevara, who is a stranger here, and a native of Seville. I, of course, thought that Signor Antonio and the stranger who had been so liberal of his notes and doubloons was the same person. Being, therefore, curious to see the bride and bridegroom, I strung my wallet over my shoulder, and came hither this evening as thou knowest. But instead of seeing, as I expected, the gallant who was so generous to me, I see a man whose face I cannot recognise. By the hairs of head! he is no more like Donna Theresa's lover, than thou art, with thy blind eye, and one arm, Tovalito! No, no! it is not he whom the beautiful bride loves; and yet she will be married to him to-morrow by the dignitary the Canon don Ignacio de Vasconcellos, her uncle."

my

"Perhaps not!" interrupted a voice that made the two mendicants start to their feet. A tall man stood before them; his form was commanding, his features were regular and handsome, his beard,

151

which was light, was cut to a point, and thus displayed the perfect oval of his fine face. A large wide-brimmed hat slouched over his eyes, and fell behind over the collar of the ample cloak which concealed the rest of his person. Here," said he, throwing a doubloon into Paco Rosales' hat, which always occupied a prominent position, even when the owner himself stood modestly back"would'st thou be clever and daring enough to deliver this note"-holding one up" to its address?"

Paco who was quite stupid by the sudden and unexpected appearance of the strauger, made him no reply, but took the note mechanically, and putting it into his hat, left the thicket where he and his companion had lain concealed from obser

vation.

CHAPTER III.

THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER.

THEY were still dancing in the ball-room; twenty couples with their light castanetes marked the time of the lively and graceful bolero, whilst the windows, in the obscurity of the night, formed two vast illumined frames, in which these tableux vivans came and disappeared, like the changing views of the diorama. As Paco drew nearer to the front of the house, he could distinguish the form of Donna Theresa, as she leant pensively over the balcony, apart from the busy crowd within. Don Guevara was standing by her side, and she appeared to listen to the words he addressed to her with a calm and mild attention; but a closer observer might have seen her lip quiver, her cheek grow pale, and her fair young brow slightly contract with the pain of suppressed emotion; whilst the flowers which she held in her hand trembled and shook, although there was not a breath of air sufficient to agitate or set them in motion.

Without, all was still and silent; the terrace, which was but faintly and partially illuminated by the reflection of the lights from the ballroom, was mostly in the shade, and the garden beyond it was in the deepest obscurity; for dark clouds covered the sky and mingled the horizon with the deep blue of the distant sea. Theresa gazed in a silent and melancholy abstraction upon the gloomy landscape before her, which, from its dark and low'ring aspect, seemed to sympathise with the troubled thoughts of the young girl.

At this moment a light breeze sprung up, and shook the branches of the orange trees, and bent the heads of two palms, which grew so near the house that their foliage completely shaded that end of the balcony occupied by the Spanish maiden and her intended lord. The sound evidently awakened some association in her mind that pained and distressed her, for she started, sighed deeply, and turned uneasily aside.

"I fear thou art indisposed, my love," whispered Don Antonio in a tone of tender solicitude.

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