ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL. in hor secret heart, she believed her own was a saving presence; for never once, never to a human ear, had she disclosed the source of her poverty, or the cause of her wretched home; but in all stages of their sad life, and hitherto to every inquiry, Alice had covered Mary's sins, either by excuses, or what she hoped was an impenetrable veil, which others more curious, and less merciful, had long withdrawn. Poor Alice! Still did her old love cleave to Mary, even through the gathering shadows of hate and fear. But this one week of absence had done its final work. Mary, in a state of drunken imbecility, received back the wretched girl; so thus, at last, roused and nerved, Alice that same night resolved, at whatever hazard or -a cost, to quit Mary, partially at least, if not wholly. To emancipate herself, she must finish her translation,thing impossible to do in the brawl and discord of a drunkard's chamber. who must of necessity understand the subject, either 66 The little boys of London are considered and estimated in the world of boyhood, according to the reputed or real metallic substance of their fathers, passing current only in proportion to the soundness, or credit, of the parental bank from which they are issued; and, therefore, treating them as ore upon which we are about to set the ourselves and the public, we arrange them like the preimpression which is to render them exchangeable between golden, or "aristocratic little boy;" the silver-gilt, or cious metals, in their natural order of value, viz., the young gentleman" little boy; the silver, or "respectacommon" The old room, which had been such a haven to them in their early London life, was to let. She took it; and ble" little boy; and lastly, the copper, or in this place, day by day, she laboured, rarely return- little boy; and thus we have a quadrangular case of the ing till late, and then with the beating heart of fear. juvenile community which, pyramidically viewed, with Hitherto nothing had irritated Mary like this escape of his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales at the apex, her victim; it increased her hate, her cruelty, her tyranny; forms a monument of the little boy class worthy of a ." Ptolemy, and fit and proper for transmission in a first"seek the streets for a home and bread." it led her to say, At last the crowning moment of so much error came. class carriage by the express train time in the railway of Struck down, and bitterly reproached for her poverty, progress, down to that ultimatum of all distances-the Alice, one cold winter's night, quitted the house for ever, terminus of posterity. her sole resource being eighteen pence, from the sale of some school-books; her sole friend, dear old Pincher! Alone, within this chamber, she fell upon her knees; "Oh, God!" she prayed, "thou hast been a witness of my patience and my truth. Therefore, for the sake of long suffering and a broken heart, let me henceforth walk in the purity my soul craves; and however stern the poverty, however deep the suffering, let that which is around me, and about me, no longer desecrate Thy image, and Thy name !" (To be continued.) Pen and Enk Portraits. THE LITTLE BOYS OF LONDON. ARE the little boys of London worthy of an article all to themselves? Have they peculiarities sufficient to form portraits which may be hung with dignity within our mental walls? Are we capable of extracting their essence, and presenting it to our readers in a neat and savoury style? To the first query, we fearlessly answer, that little boys are as worthy of the dignity of print as cabinet ministers or "leaders" in the Times; and if these two termini of society were playing on the draught-board of life for the stake of honesty, we fear that the juveniles would be the winners, or at least make a drawn game of it. The political big boys cheat as much at that expensive and interesting game, "foreign affairs," as their humbler embryos in the streets do at "ring-taw" or "buttons." When a number of little boys playing a friendly game at marbles see a few bigger and stronger boys approaching, they endeavour to guard their property, put on a pugnacious attitude, and instinctively roar out, "no smugging" a term which may be rendered-no annexation. Now, the only difference which our most obtuse brain will permit us to see between the antagonistic boys in the Punjaub, and the little boys in the streets, is, that the plunder of the one may be called petty larceny, while the other bears the alias, "aggressive warfare." Secondly; our imaginative organs could as easily devise an invention capable of catching and potting the whole of the sprat family within the narrow compass of half a pint, as to describe, in our present small space, the entire peculiarities of all the little boys in London; our readers, The apex little boy, according to popular belief, is He is refined gold, something more than standard gold. This little and forms an estate in himself; an estate, by the way, which we trust for his little boy compeer's sakes, will be improved, more usefully than ornamentally. boy is the last fashioned circle in that glittering chain of ancestry, whose primitive link is supposed to have been wrought out of brain and bright steel; so powerful are rounded is it with a dazzling halo of burning glory, that the rays emitted from that foundation hoop, and so surthe most presumptuous and daring eagle, who would think it mere fun and pastime to fly at the sun, impudently stare at it full in the face, and claw at its very spots; would blink, wink, singe its eyelids and fall discomfited, did it dare to cast but a single glance at that circlet, which is as much hidden by the chaos of tradition, as the sun by a fog in November. For the habits and customs of this little boy, we must refer our readers to the court chroniclers of the daily papers. A doubtful son, or a maternal descent, is the formation frequently of the next, the golden, or aristocratic order of little boys, who are the satellites which form the orb of the pure gold little boy, and partake as much as nature, the influence of their parents, and their own powers of imitation will permit of, his characteristics. They creep into this bustling world in some quiet corner, through the circle of a jewelled coronet, the latter fact giving them as much right to lord it over all other little boys as the incipient comb with which a cock is born entails upon that bird the right of crowing. Some philosopher has compared the minds of little boys to sheets of white paper, upon which anything may be traced; but he has not said how many qualities of paper there are. While some minds may hold comparison with mere outside foolscap, or whitey-brown, of course the golden little boys are of the very best texture-a kind of cream-laid, gilt-edged, "Queen's note." They snuff the genial and aristocratic breezes of the West. The calyx of their minds is developed by zephyrs, not torn rudely open by the rough hands of old Boreas. The common little boy must not approach them, although they would, like sensitive plants, frequently wither prematurely were it not for the kind offices of the common little boys' mothers. They are the pets of Fortune; and as Fortune, like all other pets, cannot bear crossing, we pass to the next, or silver gilt class. These form the connecting link between the golden and the silver little boys, i. e., they are neither one nor the other; they are born on the neutral ground of society. In fact, these little boys are the product of the imitative organs of their ambitious parents, and are mere copies of the golden, or aristocratic little boys; like We Birmingham jewellery-pretty, but not standard. have often met a specimen of this class where we little expected, and less wanted him, viz., at a dinner-party. He is frequently a rising wit, and much given to practical joking; such, for instance, as mistaking your plate for his own, dropping pieces of bread into your wine, letting his handkerchief fall under the table; then rapidly slipping himself down in quest of it, holding the table-cloth, and probably upsetting the contents of his plate into your lap, and certainly pitching with the aim of a sharpshooter on your favourite corn; and then (bless his innocent little heart) laughing immoderately at the grimaces extracted from you by the pain, adding the exclamation, "Oh, pa! what a funny man he is!" At which his papa rejoins, "Fie, sir, for shame," whilst his anxious mamma blesses his little heart, and requests him to mind he don't hurt himself; and in the same breath, for your consolation, tells you what a dear boy he is, and how she fears that his papa spoils the funny little rogue. This kind of young gentleman engendereth much deceit among the servants; they outwardly call him a little dear, but inwardly a young plague. The longer a servant has been in the family, the greater the amount of injuries she has chronicled in her memory, all of which must be paid off, and the young gentleman knows it by experience. The settling day arrives; the servant has received or given warning. It is her pay-time, and the only time when the little boy can be kept from visiting the kitchen. You are given to understand that his holidays from school come twice a-year, and you are led to believe that that must be winter and summer, for go when you will, the little darling is there; and you must, as a matter of course, not only endure, but admire and praise him for his specimen of oratory as exhibited in his recitations of "Alexander's Feast," " My name is Norval," &c. So little interest is there attached to the characteristics of these juveniles, that we should have passed them entirely, had it not been for the fear of loosing a link in the little boy chain. The silver, or respectable little boy, is of rougher clay than the last, and generally appertains to tradesmatic society. They are brought up between the school and the little shop-parlour; their first nursery tale is of the marvellous history of that astonishing genius Whittington, and their brains are trained for the discovery of an animal likely to be as lucky to them as the cat was to the illustrious, but almost antediluvian, lord mayor. They are taught that the animal they are then in search of is called Industry, as that is a cat whose claws will rake up anything, and create its own California. They are frequently set up in life when their parents are set up in business, and both business and little boy usually prosper or fall together; fall entirely with such culture they cannot. Their infant ideas are expanded by the winds of profit and loss; they are taught to compute time by the seconds, and its value is explained to them to be so much per hour. They look upon the old gentleman, who has a scythe and an hour-glass for his initials, as medical students do upon "a subject," as a body that if properly dissected, every part is of so much value; the student calling his worth knowledge, and the other money. "Time saved is money earned," "Early to bed and early to rise," are the two maxims upon which is founded their whole system of moral, domestic, and political economy. "Quite a little man of business" is the highest praise you can bestow. To mount the flag (wear an apron) or plant a pen behind his ear, is the very acme of his ambition. See him behind his father's counter, or at his desk; notice the dignity with which he struts; no knighted alderman has more pleasure in first listening to the delicious sound of "Sir Toby," than he has in being called the "young master." Go into his shop and call him "my little man," and see if you read not in the indignant flash of his eye, 'Oh, if you was'nt a customer, would'nt I, though!" No midshipman or ensign first mounting his virgin uniform enters the presence of his own circle with a greater consciousness of his new-born consequence, and his first move on the chequered board of manhood, than our incipient tradesman when he meets a school-fellow, who is still doing the "shining morning face and satchel at his back" business. And why, we ask should he not have all this pride, this pride of usefulness, and anxiety, to enter the great world of work and taxes? He is a budding, loyal subject of the community, for who is more loyal than he who contributes his share to the prevention of riots and poorrates, by the employing of the physical, and engaging the mental powers of the millions. We have seen that the silver, or respectable little boy, becomes a current commodity at an early age; occasionally they are to be found as productive of bread as little corn fields. Look at that little boy at the booksellers; he is one of this class, and if taken at his monetary value, like black slaves in America, and white slaves nearer home, he is of the metallic value of at least ten shillings per week to a widowed mother. He can tell you the value of his master's stock singly and collectively. Astonishing is the memory of that little boy. If you have been in that shop but once before, he will tell what book you then bought, off what shelf he took it, and many other little facts which have, perchance, clean escaped your memory. He will show you everything in the shop with untiring perseverance, and thank you politely if you do not purchase. That shop is the theatre of his existence, and the sale of a single article or the taking of an order, is of as much importance to him as the settlement of a treaty, or the disposal of a ribbon to the premier. He is learned in all the technicalities of his trade, from the price of a steel pen, to the cost of the last cyclopædia. He has saved up ten bright sovereigns, and is prouder of the savings' bank book than his master is of his banker's account. In fact, he is a thriving little boy, and has made up his mind to get on. He is somewhat given to atmospheric architecture, or what is commonly called, building castles in the air, for he has some indistinct idea of being like the " "good apprentice" (his model) and marrying his master's daughter; albeit, there are at least three religious ceremonies to be performed before he can do that, viz., a marriage, a churching, and a christening, seeing that his worthy master is yet single. However, that little boy is dauntless; he knows where there is a will there's a way, and he remembers being told that "faint heart never won fair lady." He is the Tom Thumb of trade, hewing his way through trade to fortune, as the magnanimous hero of infant history did to fame through giants' carriages. Our bookseller's boy has a little brother, who, at an early period of his existence, manifested a talent for writing. The cultivation of this talent being exotically brought forward, it in time produced the power of making those perpendicular characters, a number of which horizontally strung together, makes law-hand. Tom was then promoted to the rank of an attorney's imp, and commenced a life of dodging in and out after black gentlemen in the intricate mazes of the law courts and offices. Now, Tom is proud, very proud in his family circle, and boasts of being a member of (if verbiage is considered) the most liberal of the liberal professions. He has some indefinite idea of wearing a wig and gown; he has heard, or he believes, that great law judges are but little law boys grown up; and, consequently, in the same spirit as the lady who owned the milk pails, he is great with anticipated dignity. He is the embryo man, prouder in anticipation than possession. ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL. As for the "copper," or common little boys, i.e. common to the public, as they vegetate in the London streets, we think that anything less than an article to themselves would be an insult to the body. WILLIAM DALTON. SOMETHING ABOUT GRETNA-GREEN. IF Gretna-Green marriages do not always prove the happiest in the end, they are at least by far the merriest at the time; and Miss Lydia Languish was partly in the right when she pettishly remarked, that there was no fun in a love affair at all that did not lead to a leap from a window into a lover's arms, a chase, a challenge, and, as a matter of course, a paragraph in the newspapers. In England they make a terrible fuss about an ordinance, which in Scotland is the simplest business imaginable. Proclamation of bans is all very well, so long as a brace of lovers, with their maid and man, can slip into the manse, together or separately, at any hour of the day they please, or even appoint the clergyman to meet them in some quiet corner, where nobody suspects that a marriage is going forward. This, I say, is all very well, but it is quite another thing when you must walk in procession to the parish church, form a sort of semi-circle round the altar, answer a great number of questions, and return in nearly the same order, exposed to the gaze of bevies of gossips, and annoyed by crowds of idle boys, who run shouting and hallooing, and begging a largess, like the crones that followed our funerals of old. Such an exhibition is more than the nerves of many are equal to. Yet mistake me not, gentle reader. I am no advocate for imprudent marriages, and have no great respect for your boarding-school misses, who devour novels until their heads are turned, and with their feelings wound up to the highest pitch, are ready to fly into the arms of the first man they meet, whose address is easy, face handsome, and carriage debonair. Love, they say, must be caught at first sight; and yet I should doubt whether a courtship in which the eye is the sole arbiter, is likely to lead to the happiest results. A good husband gained in this way would be as great a windfall as the highest prize in a state lottery; and for every rash and inconsiderate nymph who espouses a man of sterling sense, whose talents and industry more than compensate for his lack of fortune and humble lineage, there are probably a hundred that throw themselves away upon dolts and dandies, who are generally too much in love with themselves to become permaOn this principle, nent worshippers at any other shrine. a cross maiden-aunt or an obdurate parent, who looks exclusively to an union of interest, may often do the state signal service by checking the evils of which Dr. Malthus is so much afraid. But are there no cases of a different character?-is there no bane of an opposite nature, to which Gretna-Green has furnished an antidote? If rashness be the besetting sin of youth, avarice is the besetting sin of age; and again and again, instances have occurred, in which a father, though kind and indulgent even to a fault, has actually set his daughter up to auction, and knocked her down to the highest bidder. Here, then, we have two evils to guard against, and truly it would be difficult to determine which is the greatest. At what precise period the first run-away marriage was celebrated at the spot called Gretna-Green, cannot now be satisfactorily ascertained; but in common parlance the the custom is said to have existed from time immemorial. Old Joseph Paisley, who died in 1814, at the advanced age of fourscore years, resided in his youth at Megg's Hill, a small farm situated betwixt Gretna and Springfield; and hence the name of Gretna-Green. Blacksmith, he knew nothing of the secrets of the anvil It is a remarkable fact, that two former occupants of the woolsack were both married at Gretna-Green,-Lord Erskine and Lord Eldon.-M'Diarmid. HOME SONNET. AROUND the circle of my childhood's hearth, HENRY MONK LOTT. If any ambitious man have a fancy to revolutionize, at one effort, the universal world of human thought, human own the road to immortal renown lies straight, open, opinion, and human sentiment, the opportunity is his and unencumbered before him; all that he has to do is to write and publish a very little book. Its title should But this little book must be true to its title. Now, is it be simple-a few plain words-" My Heart Laid Bare." which distinguishes so many of mankind, so many, too, thought of them after death, not very singular that, with the rabid thirst for notoriety who care not a fig what there should not be found one man having sufficient hardihood to write this little book? To write, we say. There are ten thousand men, who, if the book were once written, would laugh at the notion of being disturbed by its publication during their life, and who could not even after their death. But to write it-there is the rub. No conceive why they should object to its being published man dare write it. No man ever will dare write it. But so far back as THE true philosophical act is annihilation of self; this 1791, he abandoned Megg's Hill, and removed to Springfield, as a more convenient spot; and though the popular name is still kept up, it is no longer geographically accu-is the real beginning of all philosophy; all requisites for rate. Though he generally went by the name of the being a disciple of philosophy point hither. THE "KNIGHTE-HOODE" OF SIR JOHN DUDDLESTONE, WITH THE MORAL APPLICATION THEREOF.* IN Bristol's ancient city dwelt, in days long past and gone, Did fabricate an article that ladies called a boddice: But so it was, great store of wealth the merchant-traders wrought, His broad gold lace and glittering star the man of rank proclaimed, And busy Rumour's whispering tongue full soon the stranger named. mayor; But still some little doubts arose their cautious minds to clog, John Duddlestone was at his door, the day was soft and sunny, Quoth John, "The Prince seeks not, I'm sure, or merchandize or money; Our ancient city's loyal fame has brought him here to view it; Right heartily the royal Prince approved John's honest cheer, "To London when ye chance to come, be sure you dine with me, John rode to town, his wife behind, one horse conveyed the twain ; In six days' journey, having 'scaped the perils of the road, The tale he told-then (quoth the Queen) "Posterity shall right him; Kneel down, my friend-our sword, Prince George-upon the spot we'll knight him." Then softly on his curly wig she smote the honest man, Close whispered to the Prince his thought, "These folk must be expensive, Straight to the Consort Prince he walked, "May't please your Royal And here Sir John and lady rose, kissed hands, and so retired. Highness, My worthy fellow-citizens have mighty fits of shyness, And this it is, your Majesty, has potently deterred Your very loving subjects from addressing you a word; But if your Highness graciously will condescend to dine, On such poor fare as but befits a humble house like mine, In Bristol long the new-made knight pursued his wonted labour, A place at court was offered him, but John this answer made, He thanked their Majesties, but he was well content with trade. I've good roast beef, and nut-brown ale (my dame's October brew), They made him baronet at last-and here my story ends. I've blood-red wines of Burgundy, and sparkling Rhenish, too—" "Enough, enough, (broke in the Prince) to-day I dine with you." 'Twas an hour past noon by St. Werburgh's clock, the host had changed his clothes, The 'prentices had Sunday wigs, laced hats, and scarlet hose; * In Corry's "History of Bristol," the leading particulars of the above narrative are given, in an extract from an old newspaper. The Rev. S. Seyer, and other writers of the time, also give their testimony to its correctness. But mark the moral well, all ye who read this homely tale PABLO. Printed and Published for the Proprietor, by J. O. CLARKE, (of No. 9, Hemingford Terrace, East, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, in the County of Middlesex) at his Printing Office, No. 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London. Saturday, June 9, 1849. No. 7.] SATURDAY, JUNE 16, 1849. RAILWAY TRAVELLING. In our recent memoir of George Stephenson, we have seen the heroic resolute spirit of the Englishman indomitably at work, overcoming numerous obstacles of birth, position, and education,-toiling up from his dark slavery in the mine to be the engineer of railways, and the tamer of the great fire-horse-the railway locomotivewhich he at length rode at almost lightning speed, like a peaceful Viking, a warrior for a nation's, for a world's progress. To other men, of kindred genius, the development of the railway system has been largely indebted,-to Robert Stephenson, Locke, and Brunel-a man of gigantic conceptions and large genius-to Walker, Braithwaite, and many more. And let us say a word, too, for those men who found the means of railway development, and without which all this array of genius would have been unavailing. At the present day, when railway directors and shareholders are looked upon in the light of so many enormous money-grubbers-Californian "diggers" in another sphere we are too apt to forget the really great services which they have rendered to the cause of human progress. The first projectors of railways Let us do them justice. were the enterprising merchants, manufacturers, and shopkeepers of England-men who have never been sparing of the means, where a large object was to be achieved, a great work to be accomplished. It was no mere selfish love of gain which stimulated them. There was no certainty of gain in the first railways; the leaders of public opinion-those who write in Quarterlies-scouted such projects as "insane." There were great risks in the venture; but, the enterprise was grand, was truly noble; and the men we speak of stood forward with their help at the right season. There were very few "speculators" among those who formed the first railway companies. They were generally far-seeing and strong-headed men, some of the most prominent of whom were found ready to assume the business helm of affairs-capable of inspiring confidence, and of mastering difficulties. After years of hard work, during which their money was dug into the earth, buried in mosses, expended on viaducts, embankments, rails, engines, working stock, and such like, the first lines were opened, set to work amidst much wondering and amazement and predictions of loss and failure. But, a few years' experience incontestibly proved their success, and the wisdom of their promoters. Then it was that speculation, with its bad passions, appeared; then ensued the "railway mania;" and an endless host of new lines were projected, in which many dupes were lured to their ruin, and an opprobrium was cast on railway interests generally, which has not yet passed away. But the day will come when the first projectors of railways will have their just due, nevertheless. [PRICE 1d. Only see what railways have accomplished. They have enormously increased and facilitated all our internal means of communication. Among our forefathers, the maker of a road or the builder of a bridge was regarded as a great public benefactor. The road is the first instrument of civilization-it is the first work of every new settlement; and in proportion to the roads of a country, as imperfect and may you infer the civilization of its people. In the old The first roads were built times of England, the roads were barbarous as the inhabitants. by the Romans, and subsequently formed, in most places, the foundation of modern highways. But down even to a comparatively recent date, until the days of Macadam, the system of our internal communication was very imover roads full of mire and ruts; merchandise was conperfect. All travelling was accomplished on horseback, veyed from town to town on pack-horses, or along narrow pathways, flanked on either side with mud, and sufficiently broad to admit of progress only in single file. Such was the method of transport in Yorkshire, and the northern counties of England, within the memory of men now living. You will there often yet see the sign of "The Pack Horse" over many a road-side hotel-a memento of the imperfect mode of transport of our forefathers. Waggons and coaches, of a rude kind, followed, at a more recent date. Not one of our turnpike roads is yet a hundred and fifty years old. The attempts to construct them at the public expense led to riots, similar to those Even then, we have recently witnessed in Wales-the Rebecca riots. The turnpike roads were chiefly formed after the rebellion of 1745 had shown the necessity for them. they were of the most primitive kind-rude, rutty, and abominable. In the neighbourhood of the metropolis, they were often impassible in vehicles of any description. In the winter months they were generally useless; coaches and waggons stuck in the mud, and were left there. In 1768, the Sussex roads were in a wretched state. The Duke of Somerset, in travelling to London from Petworth, had to pass round by Guilford, in order to get upon the great road leading from Portsmouth to London. To pass across the country, by this road, occupied a whole day, and then, "the keepers and persons who knew the holes and the sloughs," were ofdered to accompany his Grace "with lanthorns and long poles, to help him on his way." The stage, or fly-coaches, when they were at length established, proved but slow coaches. The London and Newcastle diligence, as late as 1783, took four days in performing its journey; now, the same distance is accomplished in seven hours. To avoid robbers, with whom the roads were beset, the coaches halted at sunset, and proceeded leisurely next morning on their way. The neighbourhood of the metropolis was particularly danthen haunted it; hence the frequent announcement of gerous, by reason of the number of highwaymen who |