wretched draper, reading Moss Wakem's certificate. child, my unfortunate nephew!"

"Oh, my wife, my

Mr. Trinder here sank into a chair, quite overcome with the thoughts of meeting his wife, for whom Dr. Joynes proposed to send at once; but there was no help for it, and within an hour he was in his wife's arms, repentant in the matter of twenty guinea shawls and carriage customers. The drapery and valuables were never recovered. Job Knowles left Mrs. Bantwig and her property at the Brighton terminus of the London Bridge Railway Station, and returned home with a crown-piece, and a high opinion of the old lady in black satin. A porter took the parcel into the station and set it down by Mrs. Bantwig's directions. Presently she called another porter, and desired him to carry the parcel to the main line platform. She then called another, who carried it outside the station, where she found a light porter in the person of Jonas Schwep, who walked behind her, bearing his load. They soon parted company, however, and the parcel found its way to "The Wart," in a costermonger's barrow, covered over with empty sacks. The jewellery was in Mrs. Bantwig's reticule.

Here the narrative stops to my great disappointment. I should have been glad to hear how much Jonas realised, and how long he waited, before bringing the things into the market. A needy person would endeavour to realise at once and so lose all; an extravagant person would have melted the jewellery down, a wasteful course, because you lose the value of the workmanship, and perfectly unnecessary. I have not the least doubt but that Jonas kept these goods a long time, perhaps a twelvemonth, and then sold them at full price. It is a theory with the police that all jewellery goes into the melting pot if not recovered within twenty-four hours. Nothing could be more absurd; the most competent men would scorn such waste.

I cannot leave this narrative without remarking upon one point in which the plan would have proved defective but for the readiness of the operator. Had Pottle, the jeweller, insisted on accompanying his goods, Moss would have been obliged to forego the best part of his winnings, and have invented some excuse for not taking the jewellery, but in all cases much depends upon the operator. A case was related to me the other day which illustrated this point in a remarkable manner. I have no hesitation in describing it, because it is not only paltry in itself, but is simply an imposition upon the generosity of the public; the operator must, therefore, be a very mean person.

Three men meet and form themselves into a suburban society for the protection of life and property from fire. Jones, say, is appointed Secretary at five shillings per week; Brown is appointed Treasurer; and,

Robinson, Collector, at a similar salary. Then all three go out to collect, dressed in fireman's uniform, and carrying books having subscriptions, ficticious or otherwise, entered in them. I'm told it pays remarkably well. People are generally dissatisfied with the authorised fire brigades, and subscribe eagerly for what they believe goes to maintain a fire station in their own locality. Some may think this obtaining money under false pretences, but it is nothing of the kind. The law, which, next to the police is the most contemptable system ever conceived by man, cannot reach these fictitious firemen. They form a regularly constituted society, and if householders are fools enough to subscribe the collectors are wise men to take the money.

However, there was a split in one of these societies. One of the collectors, who managed to bring in more money than his companions, wanted a larger share of the profits; his companions objected, and they parted company. An ordinary person might suppose that upon these men falling out those whom the world is pleased to call "honest" would get their own. Nothing of the kind. The two indifferent collectors joined with another, and the seceding collector set up for himself. Of course, it was too absurd for an individual to hold himself out as a society, so he called himself "The Clifton Fireman," took a house with a stable to it, painted "Fire Engine" on the stable gates in large letters, and being industrious collected several hundred pounds in a fortnight. His two friends did not succeed as well as he, and resolved to put him down. They went to a speculating attorney-one of a class which has my unqualified admiration-and laid their plans to apprehend him at five o'clock, on a certain afternoon, for obtaining money under false pretences. He did not hear of their plans until ten o'clock the same morning, but he was equal to the occasion. Did he run away? Certainly not. That's what a weak man would have done. He considered his position, and in five minutes resolved to make it secure against all the law in England. He took a cab into the city, scoured the town for a fire-engine, managed to find one by two o'clock, paid £100 down for it, hired a cab horse, and drove it home by half-past three. At five o'clock, punctual to the minute, came the attorney's clerk and a policeman in plain clothes, that is, supposed to be in disguise. Their knock brought out the Clifton fireman, himself, in full uniform, and before they could say a word, he shouts out,

"Fire, gents? Where is it? High, Jem! horse the engine."

Jem, who was a promising boy of fourteen, scuffled out to do it, threw open the gates, and there stood the fire-engine ready for use, with the cab horse harnessed, all but his bridle, eating hay from a basket, the most complete thing in the world.

The attorney's clerk declined to lay himself open to an action for illegal arrest, so the policeman went home, and put on his uniform.

I was thinking of continuing my remarks by giving one or two hints with regard to the most popular kind of fraud of the present day, I mean the Joint Stock Company plan; but as I am at present engaged in one or two frauds of this description, and hope to realise much profit by them, I feel constrained, from obvious reasons, to refrain.

We cannot allow this curious production to go forth to the world, without pointing out that a great many more virtues appear to be required successfully to practice the science of knavery, than are necessary for the practice of common honesty.

THE BALLAD OF THE "RHINOCEROS."

BY WALTER C. BRYCE.

[The writer desires to state that the picture drawn in these verses is, of course, of the past. It requires this explanation to justify incidents now, in all probability, wholly unknown in merchant vessels.]

I had read my Peter Simple and my Tops'l Sheet Blocks too;
I'd also read my Basil Hall, and captains not a few,
And, although a simple landsman, my ambition was to be
Familiar with the pleasures and the perils of the sea.

So at last when my employers, Messrs. Bishopsgate and Co.
(They're the eminent importers in the Borough as you know),
Allowed me a vacation, my intention long had been
To devote it to the study of the Mercantile Marine.

And I rigged myself in serges, with buttons big as plates,

And I bought a "Naval Necktie"-one of Belcher's "six an' eights," And I sought a distant seaport, remarking on my way

There I swept the far horizon with my scientific eye

(That's the costly "achromatic" I'd been fool enough to buy), And if I spied a vagrant plank, or buoyant packing-case,

I reported it as "flotsam" to the Coast-guard of the place.

At last I met a "party"-"Let us liquor, mate," he said, "You air a natʼral mariner, a Neptoon born and bred;"

And I "owned the soft impeachment," for, to tell the truth, I thought
That this "party" might afford me the experience I sought.

True, his coat was somewhat dirty, and he had a pinky eye,
And his bearing altogether was equivocal and sly;
Yet I might pick up a wrinkle ;-and whoever would despise
Useful knowledge for its jacket, and the colour of its eyes?

So we "liquored." And what follows is exactly like a dream
Of a
smoky little pot-house, and a swelter and a steam,
Then a drinking, and a dancing, and a fighting; then again
A persistant oscillation like the rocking of a train.

Which it was. For I was going, with my benefactor, down,
a semi-drugged condition, to another seaport town,

And I woke up rather dizzy, in a pair of pants and shirt,
Shipped on board of the Rhinoceros, and could'nt well desert.

For the good ship the Rhinoceros was standing right away
On a pleasant three month's voyage to Calcutta and Bombay,
With my name on her agreement (I'm a pretty fairish clerk
But in this peculiar instance, I had signed it with a mark);

And a friendly voice requested me at once to "bear a hand "
Or he'd extricate my vitals in the very sight of land;
And another more benevolent-(its owner being drunk)
Said he'd cut me into ribbons, and he'd pickle me for junk.

Well the thing was done 'twas certain. So I reasoned in this way,
After all the British sailor is entitled to his pay;

But my friend, with fond prevision, had "annexed" my first advance
And had left me to subsist upon a shirt and pair of pants.

For, alas, the suit of serges, with the buttons big as plates,
Not a doubt some manlier beauty with its splendour decorates!
And, alas, the "achromatic" I was fool enough to buy,
Not a doubt by now is fitted to some new observer's eye.

Then I thought of Newton Forster, and I looked above the " trees,"
Where the rather-ragged banner braved the battle and the breeze;
And I said, let others cavil for the niceties of rank,

Though I havn't any stockings, still I tread a British plank;

And I said at least my fellows are the countrymen of Drake,
Though inadequately shirted, I but follow in his wake;
After all a twelve month's voyage is but relatively long,

Let me still retain the "light heart" with the "breeches" of the song.