whom I've the pleasure of addressing? Jackson, I conclude, is merely an assumed name."

"What does it signify?" returned the latter, angrily.

"A great deal!" replied Thames. "If you won't disclose your name, I will for you! You are Jonathan Wild!”

"Further concealment is needless," answered the other, pulling off his wig and black patch, and resuming his natural tone of voice; "I am Jonathan Wild!"

66

Say you so!" rejoined Kneebone; eternity!"

"then be this your passport to

Upon which he drew the trigger of the pistol, which, luckily for the individual against whom it was aimed, flashed in the pan.

"I might now send you on a similar journey!" replied Jonathan, with a bitter smile, and preserving the unmoved demeanour he had maintained throughout; "but I prefer conveying you, in the first instance, to Newgate. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow."

So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper. And so sudden and well-directed was the assault, that he completely overthrew his gigantic antagonist. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up. "Look quick, d―n you, or we

shall never master him!"

"Murder!" shrieked Mrs. Wood, at the top of her voice.

"Here's a pistol !" cried Thames, darting towards the undischarged weapon dropped by Blueskin in the scuffle, and pointing it at Jonathan, Shall I shoot him?"

"Yes! yes! put it to his ear!" cried Mrs. Wood; "that's the surest way!" "No! no! give it me!" vociferated Wood, snatching the pistol, and rushing to the door, against which he placed his back. “ I'll Jonathan Wild!" he added, in a loud voice,

soon settle this business.

"I command you to release your prisoner !"

"So I will," replied Jonathan, who, with Blueskin's aid, had suc. ceeded in slipping a pair of handcuffs over the woollen-draper's wrists, "when I've Mr. Walpole's order to that effect-but not before." "You'll take the consequences, then?"

"Willingly."

"In that case I arrest you, and your confederate Joseph Blake, alias Blueskin, on a charge of felony," returned Wood, brandishing his staff; "resist my authority if you dare."

"A clever device," replied Jonathan; "But it won't serve your turn. Let us pass, sir. Strike the gag, Blueskin.”

"You shall not stir a footstep. Open the window, Thames, and call for assistance."

Stop!" cried Jonathan, who did not care to push matters too far, "let me have a word with you, Mr. Wood."

"I'll have no explanations whatever," replied the carpenter, disdain. fully, "except before a magistrate."

"At least state your charge. It is a serious accusation."

"It is," answered Wood. "Do you recollect this key? Do you recollect to whom you gave it, and for what purpose? or shall I refresh your memory?"

Wild appeared confounded.

"Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened."

"Mr. Wood," said Jonathan, advancing towards him, and speaking in a low tone, "the secret of your adopted son's birth is known to me. The name of his father's murderer is also known to me. I can help you to both,—nay, I will help you to both, if you do not interfere with my plans. The arrest of this person is of consequence to me. Do not oppose it, and I will serve you. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase.' "Don't listen to him, father," cried Thames, unconscious of what was passing; "there are plenty of people outside."

"Make your choice," said Jonathan.

"If you don't decide quickly, I'll scream," cried Mrs. Wood, popping her head through the window.

"Set your prisoner free!" returned Wood.

"Take off the ruffles, Blueskin," rejoined Wild. "You know my fixed determination," he added, in a low tone, as he passed the carpenter. "Before to-morrow night that boy shall join his father."

So saying, he unlocked the door, and strode out of the room.

"Here are some letters, which will let you see what a snake you've cherished in your bosom, you uxorious old dotard," said Blueskin, tossing a packet of papers to Wood, as he followed his leader.

"'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the superscription of one of them. "Why, this is your writing, Dolly, and addressed to Mr. Kneebone."

"My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper.

"Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone. "What's to be done?"

"What's to be done!--why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. But men are so careless, there's no trusting any thing to them! However, I must try to brazen it out. Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning ac. cents; "they're some wicked forgeries."

"Excuse me, madam," replied the carpenter, turning his back upon her, and sinking into a chair: "Thames, my love, bring me my spectacles. My heart misgives me. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered, that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way."

SARDANAPALUS.

SARDANAPALUS was Nineveh's king;

And, if all be quite true that the chroniclers sing,
Loved his song and his glass,
And was given, alas!
Not only to bigamy,

Nor even to trigamy,

But [I shudder to think on't) to rankest polygamy:
For his sweethearts and wives were so vast in amount,
They'd take you a week or two only to count !

One morning his Majesty jump'd out of bed,
And hitting his valet a rap on the head,

By way of a joke, "Salamenes," he said,

66

Go, proclaim to the court,

'Tis our will to resort,

By way of a lark,

To our palace and park

On the banks of Euphrates, and there, with our wives,

Sing, dance, and get fuddled, for once in our lives;

So, bid our state-rulers and nobles, d'ye see,

Hie all to our banquet, not later than three,

And prepare for a long night of jollity."

When the court heard these orders, with rapture elate,
They adjourn'd all the business of church and of state,
And hurried off, drest
Each man in his best;

While the women, sweet souls,

Went with them by shoals,

Some in gigs, some in cabs, some on horseback so gay, And some in an omnibus hired for the day—

(If busses in those days were not to be seen, All I can say is, they ought to have been)— Like a torrent, the throng

Roll'd briskly along,

Cheering the way with jest, laughter, and song,
To the Banqueting Hall, where the last of the group
Arrived, by good luck, just in time for the soup.

The guests set to work in superlative style,
And his Majesty, equally busy the while,
Encouraged their efforts with many a smile.
The High Priest was the first

Who seemed ready to burst;
(For the ladies so sly,

They swigged on the shy!)

But, proud of his prowess, he scorn'd to give o'er, "Till at length with a hiccup he fell on the floor, Shouting out, 'mid his qualms,

That verse in the Psalms,

Which saith (but it surely can't mean a whole can!) That" Wine maketh merry the heart of a man."

While thus they sate tippling, peers, prelates, and all,
And music's sweet voice echoed light through the Hall;
His Majesty rose,

Blew his eloquent nose,

And exclaiming, by way of exordium,

"Here goes!"

Made a speech which produced a prodigious sensation,
Greatly, of course, to the King's delectation:

One courtier, o'erpower'd by its humour and wit,
Held both his fat sides, as if fearing a fit;

While another kept crying, "Oh, God, I shall split!"
(So when a great Publisher cracks a small joke,
His authors at table are ready to choke.)
And all, with the lungs of a hurricane, swore
They had ne'er heard so droll an oration before,
With the single exception of one silly fellow,
Who not being, doubtless, sufficiently mellow,
Refused to applaud, or to join in the laughter,
And was hang'd for a traitor just ten minutes after.

By this time Dan Phoebus in ocean had sunk,
And the guests were all getting exceedingly drunk,
When, behold! at the door

There was heard a loud roar,

And in rush'd a messenger covered with gore,
Who bawl'd out, addressing the Head of the State,
"If your Majesty pleases, the Foe's at the gate,
And threatens to kick up the Devil's own din,
If you do not surrender, and bid them come in ;
The mob, too, has risen,

And let out of prison,

With the jailor's own keys (but it's no fault of his'n),
Some hundreds of burglars, and fences, and prigs,
Who are playing all sorts of queer antics and rigs;
Already they've fired up one church for a beacon,-
Hocussed a bishop and burked an archdeacon,
And swear, if you don't give them plenty of grog,
They'll all become Chartists, and go the whole hog!"

Quoth he, "Have forced open the gates of the town,
And are knocking by scores the rich citizens down;
As I pass'd with bent brow,

By the Law Courts just now,
Lo, sixty attorneys lay smash'd in a row,
Having just taken wing for the regions below,

(When lawyers are dead, none can doubt where they go,)
'Mid the cheers of each snob, who sung out, as he past,
'So the scamps have gone home to their father at last!"

Oh! long grew the face of each guest at this tale,
The men they turn'd red, and the women turn'd pale;
But redder and paler they turn'd when they heard
The more terrible tidings of herald the third !—
In he bounced with a visage as black as a crow's,
And a mulberry tinge on the tip of his nose;
He'd a rent in his breeches,

A tergo, the which is

(As Smollett has taught us long since to believe*)
Not the pleasantest sight for the daughters of Eve;

* Vide Miss Tabitha Bramble, in Smollett's "Humphrey Clinker."

And he shook like a leaf, as thus hoarsely he spake
In the gruff and cacophonous tones of a drake,--
The town's all on fire,

Hut, palace, and spire

Are blazing as fast as the foe can desire :
Such crashing and smashing,

And sparkling and darkling!

Such squalling, and bawling, and sprawling,
And jobbing, and robbing, and mobbing!

Such kicking and licking, and racing and chasing,
Blood-spilling and killing, and slaughtering and quartering!
You'd swear that old Nick, with Belphegor his clerk,
And Moloch his cad, were abroad on a lark !"

"Here's a go!" said the king, staring wild like a bogle
At these tidings, and wiping his eyes with his fogle;
"'Tis vain now to run for

Our lives, for we're done for:

So, away with base thoughts of submission or flight,
Let's all, my brave boys, die like heroes to-night;
Raise high in this Hall a grand funeral pile,

Then fire it, and meet our death-doom with a smile!"
He ceased, when a courtier replied in low tone,
"If your Majesty pleases, I'd rather live on ;

For, although you may think me as dull as a post,
Yet I can't say I've any great taste for a roast;
'Tis apt to disorder one's system; and so,
Good night to your majesty-D.I.O.!"

So saying, he made for the door and rush'd out,
While quick at his heels rush'd the rest of the rout,
Leaving all alone,

The king on his throne,

With a torch in one hand which he waved all abroad,
And a glass in the other, as drunk as a lord!

That night, from the Hall, late so joyous, there broke,
Spreading wide in 'mid air, a vast column of smoke;
While, higher and higher,
Blazed up the red fire,

As it blazed from Queen Dido's funeral pyre !--
Hark to the crash, as roof, pillar, and wall

Bend-rock-and down in thunder fall!

Hark to the roar of the flames, as they show

Heaven and earth alike in a glow!

The hollow wind sobs through the ruins, as though

'Twere hymning his dirge who, an hour ago,

Was a King in all a king's array;

But now lies, a blackened clod of clay,

In that Hall whose splendours have past away,
Save in old tradition, for ever and aye!