THE OLD JEWELLER. A TALE OF THE CITY. "Ah! for youth's delirious hours When quenched hopes and palsied powers -CLARENCE MANGAN. In a well-known street in the city of London there stood, many years ago, and, for all I know, may be standing there still, a large and wellbuilt house, whose grimy aspect was dismal to the eye. Superior to its neighbours in size and finish, it stood out in the bright and busy street like a withered tree in a leafy forest. No sign of care adorned its foul and squalid front-all paint had vanished years ago- the plaster was broken and weather-stained, and the window-panes, which still remained unbroken, were effectually muffed with dirt. Rank weeds flourished on the window-sills and in the gutters, and even by the sides of the two broken steps that led to the shop, itself a pattern of unchecked decay. In it a long, dark counter, lined with drawers, extended from a window that had been originally large, but now much reduced by interior boarding. This counter might once have been painted, or, possibly, polished. Who could say? Its only coating now was dirt varnished with grease. Dust was the prevailing atmosphere. Dust obscured the window and defiled the walls; it lay in thick wreaths on the floor, and clung to the ceiling, where it hid the elaborate fretting, and plugged the rich fantastic cornice. Furniture there was none, save that behind the counter a broken chair was propped, whilst against the opposite wall rested a long, cushioned seat, on which the weariest customer would not venture to repose. The rest of the building was dustier and dingier still, every nook and corner of it, except one room. What was the condition of that unknown, mysterious chamber? Did it match with the rest of the dusky mansion—a rare abode for rats, and mice, and spiders? Was it a great reservoir of dust, from whence the rest of the building was supplied? or was it, as some supposed, an apartment of strange and costly beauty, jealously guarded, and secretly visited, by its eccentric possessor? Various, in truth, were the tales that were told among the neighbouring gossips; for the folk of those days, unlike our neighbours now, used to trouble themselves much anent matters that didn't concern them, and related many an awful story of that haunted chamber, which they made the scene of more than one exciting murder, and considerately peopled with one or two choice spirits. The room in question looked upon the street, but the street could hardly have been said to look upon it, for no mortal eye could pierce the crust which wind, and dust, and rain had fastened on the windowpanes. Its door had not been opened for forty long years, A more suitable inhabitant could not have been found for this dirty old house than the dirty old man who dwelt in it. His godfathers and godmothers, at his baptism, had given him the name of Richard Sharpston, but he was better known among his neighbours as "Dirty Dick.” He merited the sobriquet. I shall but attempt to describe him. But do not fancy he was merely slovenly in his garb and habits; be not so unjust as to think of him as simply soiled-ah, no! peace to his ashes! he was downright, genuinely dirty. Save in the colour of his hair, he was like the despairing lover in the song, who hired an airy garret Near her dwelling-place, Grew a beard of fiercest carrot, Never washed his face." He was moulded, doubtless, in the human form divine, but slight, indeed, were the traces of divinity that marked his outward man. There the unmitigated mortal appeared, and, dust as he was, to dust he had returned before his time. Sharpston was a jeweller, money-lender, and miser. Little token of his trade appeared in the narrow, half-glazed window of his darkened. shop; but in the many strong drawers of the blackened counter lurked sparkling jewels and glittering gold, enough to have purchased half the street. Strange were the ways and customs of the man he sold jewels, he bought jewels, and he took jewels in pledge; and in this musty den received daily visitors of nobility and fashion. Freely and openly they came; some to purchase-and no merchant in the city could tempt their longing eyes with rarer or more costly gems; for, mind you, he had long been wealthy, and could command the marketothers came to sell; and some, as I have hinted, came to pawn the jewels they were loath to part with irredeemably. The old jeweller was secret, trustworthy, and liberal in his dealings, no doubt from policy; so that when the Countess of Almondine experienced a temporary and ridiculous difficulty in opening the heart and pocket of her husband, or when her ladyship had lost at cards more than her pin-money or the doctrine of chances warranted, she quietly slipped into her pocket her set of diamonds, or those matchless emeralds, her wedding-gift, or if she needed but a trifling loan, perhaps the chain that he had brought her from Constantinople the summer she gave him her likeness-then she drove off to the well-known house, before whose very door the carriage boldly stopped; for was she not going to purchase, and Richard was the vogue, though dirty. She was sure of her object. Sharpston would take the glittering baubles in his yellow hand, hold them before his keen old eye, advance her more than she could obtain elsewhere, and lock up the casket safely in his dingy sanctum. There every drawer had, from time to time, been laden with these golden spoils of the noble and the wealthy; for Dick had no dealings with the poor, no drawers for articles of trifling value or spurious worth-all his treasures must be rich and real, But he not only bought and sold his precious ware; he would hire them out for a whole season-for a month, a week, a single night, In this species of dealing, it is true, his terms were somewhat exorbitant; but then the water of his diamonds was so pure, his gold so fine, and the fashion of his trinkets so graceful and rare, that a buckish youth of moderate means, who yet did not care to be seen in an everlasting buckle or an eternal chain, deemed a pleasing variety not too dearly purchased at a somewhat expensive charge. Moreover, the merchant kept up an ever-changing variety in his goods; and as he always sent to some distant market the revived bijouterie of his fashionable but embarrassed friends, it followed as a happy consequence, that Mrs A. could safely borrow a gem without any fear that Lady B. might recognise it as her first admirer's gift, which she had lately sold to Dirty Dick, while its case lay still fondly treasured in her ladyship's repertoire of love-tokens. It is a matter worth more than a passing thought, what curious relations frequently exist in life between some, whose outward circumstances would seem to say that no close link could probably connect them. What an ugly story the old domestic might tell of her mistress's former years! Could not the obscure and drudging lawyer render a queer account of his noble client? Does not the homely physician lock up in his medicine-chest the most dreaded secret of his most courtly patient? Could he not, any day, flush with shame the cheeks, and flood with bitter tears the eyes, that perhaps forget to see him in society? And so with our money-getting friend. Many a proud and high-born dame has confided her woes, her household griefs, her pressing little wants, to the stooping ear of this despised old man; many a fair name has been saved by his timely gold; many a fair bosom has heaved beneath a sparkling gem, that was in reality the property of Dirty Dick. But how had all this come to pass? How had such a being as this, with all his wealth, become the confidant of noble lords and courtly ladies? How was it, above all, that the manners of the man had always been suited to his high-born customers, and his conversation delighted their fastidious fancies as much as his gold relieved their wants? You are not to suppose that this poor old man had been always the miserable creature already described. Strange indeed in its kind, and very humbling in its lesson, was the contrast between the beginning and the end of that blighted life. Who that now saw the wretched miser in his dusty lair, careless of everything on earth or in heaven, except the amassing of gold, which to him was most truly worthless, could have recognised the gay, wild youth who, fifty years before, had issued forth to sun his manhood in the world? Ah! then his eyes were bright, and his locks were glossy; laughter hung upon his tongue, and his whole spirit of youth was tingling with joy. "Costly his habit as his purse could buy." Crimson silks and purple velvets, the fashion of the day, clad those limbs so shrunken now; and brilliant rings adorned the white fingers, that were now like the talons of an unseemly bird. He would have been open to the criticism of the Frau Himmelhahn, mentioned in Longfellow's "Hyperion," who thought Paul Flemming had a rakish look because his hair curled, and pronounced his gloves "a shade too light for a strictly virtuous man.” He was redolent, in those days, of dainty soaps, and delicate powders, and essences whose names I cannot tell, but, doubtless, they were as fragrant as Frangipanni, and as sug gestive as Kiss-me-quick, Richard Sharpston was the only child of a London merchant, who lived at a period when merchants dwelt in the city where they made their wealth. Villas near town were then unknown, West End terraces had not been built, the auriferous hum of the railway had never been heard, nor had excursion-trains as yet decimated the seekers of pleasure. City merchants, no matter how great their wealth, lived in the city, inhabiting large, solid, richly-built mansions, of which many still survive, but are humbled into counting-houses, warehouses, and banks. There they entertained their friends with hospitalities which, if not as refreshingly pungent as more modern banquets, were at least as munificent and cordial. There is a melancholy interest attached to buildings which have become reduced in their circumstances, and have fallen in their position in life. Ivy-covered ruins are notoriously picturesque and suggestive to the moralist, but quite as fanciful a train of thought may be suggested by a building which is ruined, not in its fabric, but in its uses. Is not this felt when wandering through some lofty mansion, whose fretted ceilings and broken carvings are desolate mementos of its palmier days? Imagination peoples again with statesmen and nobles the panelled rooms where cockney clerks hang up their coats and scribble; or in the great state hall, where the oaken planks are now laden with bales of merchandise, gallants and beauties, whose charms have long since mouldered into dust, tread once more the measure of some courtly dance, or sigh their love-whispers through the stuccoed galleries. sure. Master Richard, while of tender years, became an orphan, and was adopted by a bachelor uncle, a wealthy jeweller, who promised to make him his heir. They lived together in the house described at the commencement of this history, but then a richly furnished, pleasant abode. The old man loved the boy; lavished money on his education, and when he had arrived at man's estate, sent him forth, with a well-stocked purse, to travel, that he might complete his education and take his pleaRichard was then a handsome, well-formed youth, kindly natured and of good abilities, but of too indolent a temperament ever to cut much of a figure in the world. So he took his pleasure and his ease; studied books a little, and men and manners a little more; made the acquaintance of fine ladies who pleased his vanity, but could not touch his heart, and of fine gentlemen who were not suited to the merchant's nephew. For, after a time, his uncle, who found age beginning to sap his vigour, summoned home his nephew to superintend the business which supplied his wealth, and was the pride of the old man's heart. Richard came at once, and with a good grace entered on his duties; but it must be confessed that the abandoning of habits which he liked, and the yielding of exertion which he did not like, tried pretty deeply the ease-loving young gentleman, who winced considerably beneath his task, and pined not a little at the change of life. Still he had consolationsgay company, fine clothes, handsome horses, and a purse well filled. One more was wanting, and it came. Among the city belles who at that day reigned and lavished their smiles or inflicted their frowns on their admirers, none was more comely and winning than Richard's own cousin, Mistress Dorothy Chipheart. She was extremely beautiful, full of youthful grace, and of a sprightli ness that was akin to wit; and if, as was said, she was somewhat vain, given to coquetry, and abundantly sensible of her own merits, who could not find an excuse for the flattered child. Certain it is, that, however unpopular she may have been with her own sex, she had countless adorers of the other; even Richard Sharpston, so cool to the blandishments of foreign dames, was vanquished at sight by the lively Dorothy. Whether it was owing to his handsome person, or his polished manners, or his uncle's reputed wealth, or to the opportunities that cousinship affords-and they are sometimes no small element in a contested courtship-it quickly came to pass that Master Dick gave the go-bye to his rivals, many of whom soon afterwards joined the opposite party, and pronounced Dorothy heartless and vain, with very slender pretensions to good looks. Those were very happy days for Richard. His pulses were quickened with a joy he had never felt before; a brighter hue had stolen on his life, and he loved the fair young girl very dearly indeed. Dorothy, for her part, was very fond of Richard. If her nature was not capable of such deep and undivided love as his, surely that was no fault of her's; she did her best, and was fonder of her betrothed than of anyone else in the world-except herself. It happened that, at the time of which we write, it was much the custom for young scions of nobility, like the gods who made love injuriously to the daughters of men, to leave now and then their own peculiar sphere, and grow intimate with the families and the feasts of the merchants in the city. They would dissipate and gamble with their sons, and, flirting with their daughters, they used to turn their heads and steal their hearts, and obtain their kisses under false pretences. Dick Among the adepts in this species of amiable robbery, Henry Earl of Storrville was pre-eminently skilful, the most accomplished and most profligate of those busy idlers. He had known young Sharpston in the city of Vienna, and made use of him in the city of London. introduced him to his uncle, who felt no small satisfaction in entertaining his nephew's fashionable acquaintance. His lordship became intimate at the merchant's house, where, in an evil hour, he met his city friend's affianced mistress. Richard, proud of his sweetheart and proud of his friend, presented them to each other, and was subsequently lectured by Dorothy, who vowed she would not have the acquaintance of so wicked a man, earnestly entreated Richard to renounce his companionship, and never lost an opportunity of throwing her eyes at him. As for my lord, his course was soon decided. Dorothy was too lovely a prize to be foregone. Truth to his friend was too small an impediment to embarrass a man of so fine an ability. So it came to pass that, after a few more meetings, the lady discovered that the poor young Earl had been shamefully slandered, and that, at all events, as the friend of Richard, it was her duty to tolerate and, if possible, improve him. Therefore, during evening walks, or country rides, or in the pleasant parties on the river, Dorothy and the gay young lord were constant companions, while Richard found himself either hooked to some of the party who simply bored him, or supporting the steps of his feeble relative. And when, after a long summer's day, during which she had not given him twenty words, nor walked for two minutes by |