fast, like two wild beasts in dens, trying to get
glimpses of each other through the bars, to
the unutterable interest of MR. WHELKS.

But when the Hunchback made himself
known, and when More did the same; and
when the Hunchback said he had got the
certificate which rendered Eva's marriage illegal;
and when More raved to have it given to
him, and when the Hunchback (as having
some grains of misanthropy in him to the last)
persisted in going into his dying agonies in a
remote corner of his cage, and took unheard-of
trouble not to die anywhere near the bars
that were within More's reach; MR. WHELKS
applauded to the echo. At last the Hunchback
was persuaded to stick the certificate
on the point of a dagger, and hand it in;
and that done, died extremely hard, knocking
himself violently about, to the very last gasp,
and certainly making the most of all the life
that was in him.

Still, More had yet to get out of his den
before he could turn this certificate to any
account. His first step was to make such a
violent uproar as to bring into his presence a
certain 'Norman Free Lance' who kept watch
and ward over him. His second, to inform
this warrior, in the style of the Polite Letter-
Writer, that ' circumstances had occurred '
rendering it necessary that he should be
immediately let out. The warrior declining to
submit himself to the force of these
circumstances, Mr. More proposed to him, as a
gentleman and a man of honour, to allow him to
step out into the gallery, and there adjust an
old feud subsisting between them, by single
combat. The unwary Free Lance, consenting
to this reasonable proposal, was shot from
behind by the comic man, whom he bitterly
designated as ' a snipe ' for that action, and
then died excedingly game.

All this occurred in one day—the bridal
day of the Ladye of Lambythe; and now
MR. WHELKS concentrated all his energies
into a focus, bent forward, looked straight in
front of him, and held his breath. For, the
night of the eventful day being come, MR.
WHELKS was admitted to the ' bridal chamber
of the Ladye of Lambythe,' where he beheld a
toilet table, and a particularly large and
desolate four-post bedstead. Here the Ladye,
having dismissed her bridesmaids, was
interrupted in deploring her unhappy fate, by the
entrance of her husband; and matters, under
these circumstances, were proceeding to very
desperate extremities, when the Ladye (by
this time aware of the existence of the
certificate) found a dagger on the dressing-table,
and said, ' Attempt to enfold me in thy pernicious
embrace, and this poignard—! ' &c. He
did attempt it, however, for all that, and he
and the Ladye were dragging one another
about like wrestlers, when Mr. More broke
open the door, and entering with the whole
domestic establishment and a Middlesex
magistrate, took him into custody and claimed
his bride.

It is but fair to MR. WHELKS to remark on
one curious fact in this entertainment. When
the situations were very strong indeed, they
were very like what some favourite situations
in the Italian Opera would be to a
profoundly deaf spectator. The despair and
madness at the end of the first act, the
business of the long hair, and the struggle in
the bridal chamber, were as like the
conventional passion of the Italian singers, as the
orchestra was unlike the opera band, or its
' hurries ' unlike the music of the great
composers. So do extremes meet; and so is there
some hopeful congeniality between what will
excite MR. WHELKS, and what will rouse a
Duchess.

SONNET

TO LORD DENMAN.

Retiring from the Chief Justiceship of England.

THERE is a solemn rapture in the Hail
With which a nation blesses thy repose,
Which proves thy image deathless—that the close
Of man's extremest age whose boyhood glows
While pondering o'er thy lineaments, shall fail
To delegate to cold historic tale
What DENMAN was; for dignity which flows
Not in the moulds of compliment extern,
But from the noble spirit's purest urn
Springs vital; justice kept from rigour's flaw
By beautiful regards; and thoughts that burn
With generous ire, no form but thine shall draw
Within the soul, when distant times would learn
The bodied majesty of England's Law.

LIZZIE LEIGH.

IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAPTER III.

THAT night Mrs. Leigh stopped at home;
that only night for many months. Even Tom,
the scholar, looked up from his books in
amazement; but then he remembered that
Will had not been well, and that his mother's
attention having been called to the circumstance,
it was only natural she should stay to
watch him. And no watching could be more
tender, or more complete. Her loving eyes
seemed never averted from his face; his
grave, sad, care-worn face. When Tom went
to bed the mother left her seat, and going
up to Will where he sat looking at the fire,
but not seeing it, she kissed his forehead, and
said,

' Will! lad, I've been to see Susan Palmer! '

She felt the start under her hand which
was placed on his shoulder, but he was silent
for a minute or two. Then he said,

' What took you there, mother? '

' Why, my lad, it was likely I should wish
to see one you cared for; I did not put myself
forward. I put on my Sunday clothes, and tried
to behave as yo 'd ha liked me. At least I
remember trying at first; but after, I forgot
all.'