Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/600

16, 1860.] new theory—at least it was so to me—of gout is indescribably satisfactory. I like to think that rich and poor—the capitalist and the beggar—the bishop and the curate, must meet at last in the same form of suffering; unless, indeed, the rich man, the capitalist, or the bishop, has had bowels of compassion for his struggling, sorrowful fellow-creatures—in which case may his years be long, and painless, and when he has at last accomplished the period of man’s pilgrimage, may he gently fall asleep amidst the blessings and tears of all around him! Look at that fat, stupid boy inside—his cheeks all sticky with raspberry jam—he is doomed. I see him at forty-three years of age with bloated cheeks waddling along, and fumbling with a dinner-pill in his waistcoat-pocket. Look at that eager little girl who is slobbering down the custard, but with her eye upon a three-cornered cranberry-tart. The thin long boy has partaken of two sausage rolls, and innumerable tartlets, and he is now washing them down with ginger beer. Ah! young gentleman, there will come a day of reckoning for these things: Far better would it have been to commit half the duty of digestion to one of those small dirty parties outside, to whom a Bath bun would have been a foretaste of Paradise. Poor little things!—how eager and intent they are!—how their eyes follow the acts of the mid-day revellers as they plunge their fingers into the labyrinth of tarts, and—so help me Jellies and Blancmanges—they feel the first crunch of the happy-one’s teeth all up their hungry spines. You see they interchange rapid glances as a fresh tart is chosen, and then their attention becomes keen again, and they watch its gradual demolition with a look of Egyptian fixedness. Now may all bright fortunes follow on that little lady’s path in life who has interchanged some few words with her mother, I suppose, and has taken the open raspberry tart to the poor little cripple outside! May all good attend upon her as she passes on her gentle way through life—happy and shedding happiness around her! It is but a child’s act if you will; but she does not give herself the airs of a patroness, nor wait to be thanked, but runs back to her mother as half ashamed of what she had done. The little cripple does not seem to know what to make of it, but holds it up in an appealing way to his ragged grimy sister who is looking after him. He would, I think, only that his wits do not work quickly, transfer the responsibilities of the tart, with its delights, to her, only he lets the moment for action fly past. She encourages him to proceed with his labours, and the little Bedouins gather round to see Limping Bob perform the feat of disposing of the tart. They lick the smut on their hands as though it were jam, and encourage him to proceed. I had almost feared that when he had taken the first bite, and animal passion had obtained the mastery over him, he would in the delirium of the moment have forgotten everything in the world save the sensation of raspberry jam. No, he is not quite half way through the tart, and his infantine sense of justice whispers to him that enough is done. As he leans on his crutches he holds the tart up to his sister—there is the mark in the jam of his last bite—and says in a husky, undemonstrative way, “Now, Jenny, you have a go-in!” There was something in Adam after all!

Dear me—here I am, well-nigh arrived at the end of my allotted tether, and it seems to me that I have only just begun to talk to you about London children. I had wanted to tell you all about the child-crowds which gather round, and how they look round to the parlour windows to see if their child-betters are taking their jokes:—and about the processions for beating the bounds, when my little friends are so grand with their banners and flags;—and about the babies in the perambulators, who have determinations of blood to their large heads, whilst the nurse-maids are flirting with the tall Horse Guards who sit by their sides sucking the nobs of their rattans;—and how angry the old gentlemen get when the perambulators are run over their dear old toes;—and about the Fifth of November, when all my sympathies are with the merry crowd who

see no reason

Why gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot;—

and about the Blue Coat Boys, and the Sons of the Clergy upon their Great Field Day at St. Paul’s;—and what the little boys say to the Grenadiers at St. James’s Palace, and the tall Life Guards (Blue) at the Horse Guards, and how those men of war lose their warlike tempers, only it isn’t any use,—they can’t desert their posts, and they can’t shoot my young friends down on the spot;—and about the naughty little boys who, when I take I my favourite chesnut charger to Rotten Row, are so anxious to know “if I have left the key of the animal at home,” and “why I do not get inside him.” Well, well, it is no use, my friends, we have talked together awhile about London children,—now each of you add something of his own, and so you will fill up my shortcomings. Only let me say, in conclusion, that I hope we shall all be always very gentle and considerate in our conduct to these little miniature Adams and Eves—for we can do somewhat for Childhood and Youth—it is more difficult to be of service to our fellow-creatures afterwards. They will then take their own way, and sometimes they had better not. But we can keep children out of scrapes, and make the first years of their lives bright and happy. 2em

is well known that Lord Kingsale and Lord Forester both enjoy the singular privilege of standing covered in the presence of royalty. Lord Forester obtained this concession from Henry VIII.; but the right belonging to Lord Kingsale dates from the reign of King John. It originated as follows: His ancestor, the Earl of Ulster, had a very strong arm, and one day, at the desire of the king, he chopped a massive helmet in twain in the presence of the French sovereign. King John was so pleased at the feat that he desired him to ask at his hands any favour that he pleased; and the Earl replied that as he had estates and wealth enough, he would only ask for himself and his successors the singular privilege alluded to above.