The shadows of joy shall the mind appal, And the death-light dimly flit round the hall Of him, by base lucre who led astray, Shall age into fruitless minion betray! The death-light shall glimmer in Belville-hall, And childless the lord of the mansion fall; A wife when he weds, vain, ugly, and old, Though charms she brings forty thousand in gold!
The Squire was not prone to anger; but that this fellow should interfere with his private concerns, and impute to him the intention of forming a most preposterous connexion, under the influence of avarice, roused him into a whirlwind of passion.—“Rascal!” he exclaimed, “who take upon you to predict the fate of others, are you aware of your own! Vagabond! imposter! here I grasp you, nor will I quit my hold until I surrender you into the hands of justice!” And “suiting the action to the word,” he seized and shook the unfortunate Seer, to the manifest discomposure of his bones, who loudly and lamentably cried out for assistance. Alarmed by the clamour, Dashall and the Baronet rushed up stairs, to whom the Squire stated the aggravation received, and at the same time his determination to bring the cheat to punishment. The trembling culprit sued for mercy, conscious that he was amenable to correction as a rogue and vagabond, and if convicted as such, would probably be sent to expiate his offence in the Treading-Mill at Brixton, a place of atonement for transgression, which of all others he dreaded the most.{1}
1 Union-Hall.—Hannah Totnkins, a miserable woman of the town, was brought before R. G. Chambers, Esq. charged with having robbed another of the unfortunate class of her clothes. It appeared, that the prisoner had been liberated from Brixton prison on Friday-last, after a confinement of three weeks; and that on coming out she was met by the complainant, Catherine Flynn, by whom she was taken to a comfortable lodging, supplied with necessaries, and treated with great kindness. The prisoner acted with propriety until Monday night, during which she remained out in the streets. On Tuesday morning, at four o'clock, she came home drenched with rain. The complainant desired her either to go to bed, or to light a fire and dry her clothes. The prisoner did neither, and the complainant went to sleep. At about seven the latter awoke, and missed her gown, petticoat, and bonnet. The prisoner was also missing. The complainant learned that her clothes were at a pawnbroker's shop, where they had been left a short time before by the prisoner. Hall, the officer, having heard of the robbery, went in quest of the prisoner, and found her in a gin-shop in Blackman-street, in a state of intoxication. He brought her before the magistrates in this condition. Her hair was hanging about her face, which was swelled and discoloured by the hardship of the preceding night. She did not deny that she had stolen the clothes of her poor benefactress, but she pleaded in her excuse, that the condition of her body, from the rain of Monday night, was such, that nothing but gin could have saved her life, and the only way she had of getting that medicine, was by pledging Katty Flynn's clothes. The magistrates asked the prisoner whether she had not got enough of the treading-mill at Brixton. The prisoner begged for mercy's sake not to be sent to the treading-mill. She would prefer transportation; for it was much more honourable to go over the water, than to be sent as a rogue and vagabond to Brixton. She was sent back to prison. It is a remarkable fact, that since the famous Treading-Mill has been erected at Brixton, the business of this office has greatly declined. The mill is so constructed, that when a man ventures to be idle in it, he receives a knock on the head from a piece OF WOOD, which is put there to give them notice of what they ere to do!!!
The two ancient Sybils from the lower regions having now ascended the scene of confusion, united their voices with that of the astrologer, and Dashall and Sir Felix also interceding in his behalf, the Squire yielded to the general entreaty, and promised the soothsayer forgiveness, on condition that he disclosed the source whence he derived information as to the Baronet's family concerns. The soothsayer confessed, that he had elicited intelligence from the servant, who in his simplicity had revealed so much of his master's affairs, as to enable him (the conjurer) to sustain his reputation even with Sir Felix himself, whom from description he recognized on his first entrance, and by the same means, and with equal ease, identified the person of the Squire of Belville-hall. He added besides, that he had frequently, by similar stratagem, acquired intelligence; that chance had more than once favoured him, by verifying his predictions, and thus both his fame and finances had obtained aggrandisement. He now promised to relinquish celestial for sublunary pursuits, and depend for subsistence rather on the exercise of honest industry than on public credulity.
Thus far had matters proceeded, when the Baronet's servant Thady was announced. The triumvirate anticipating some extraordinary occurrence, desired the soothsayer to resume his functions, and give the valet immediate audience, while they retired into another apartment to wait the result. In a few minutes the servant was dismissed, and the party readmitted.
“Chance,” said the augurer, “has again befriended me. I told you, Sir Felix, that the depredator would be thrown in your way: my prediction is realized; he has been accidentally encountered by your servant, and is now in safe custody.”
On this information our party turned homewards, first leaving the astrologer a pecuniary stimulation to projected amendment of life.
“There seems nothing of inherent vileness,” said the Squire, as they walked onwards, “in this man's principles; he may have been driven by distress to his present pursuits; and I feel happy that I did not consign the poor devil to the merciless fangs of the law, as, in the moment of irritation, I had intended.”
“By my conscience,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “I cannot discover that he ought to be punished at all. He has been picking up a scanty living by preying on public credulity; and from the same source thousands in this metropolis derive affluent incomes, and with patronage and impunity.”
“And,” added Dashall, “in cases of minor offence a well-timed clemency is frequently, both in policy and humanity, preferable to relentless severity."{1}