The jury-box felt the appeal, and looked proudly dignified; and after dwelling for two hours and three quarters on "the villain who by his insidious wiles"—Theophilus looked patiently unconscious of his Don Juan accomplishments—"had wormed himself into the lady's affections, and then basely left her, a daisy on the stalk, to pine!" he called upon them as husbands,—"Think of your wives," continued the counsel: they evidently did, and looked anything but pleased; and urging them as fathers and as men to give the plaintiff such damages as the enormity of the crime and the wealth of the defendant warranted, the learned counsel sat down, evidently to the satisfaction of himself and all who heard him.
It is needless to dwell longer upon this interesting trial, as the curiously inclined may read a full account of it in any newspaper of the date, and therein they will see it stated in evidence how the "mutual friend" bore witness to Mr. Bullfinch picking the poppy and paying for the widow at cards. Theophilus had often accused himself of the folly, and sundry other little etceteras "too numerous to mention." The housekeeper, in being cross-examined, also bore evidence, though much against her will, to the intimacy of the parties. The maid—women invariably hold by each other—always considered master 'gaged to Mrs. Jennings. The jury seemed to think so too, and returned a verdict of—Theophilus never recovered the shock—five hundred pounds!
Ye elderly bachelors, and ye bachelors of all degrees, hear this and pause! There are specks in the sun; can you, in the vanity of your hearts, think women more immaculate? Alas, the error! Pause then, and, whenever you play at cards with a lady, think of Theophilus Bullfinch, and never pay for your partner; and for the rest of your lives, if you would escape actions for "breach," never pick poppies, or walk in clover with widows!
"After all," said Theophilus, as he wrote a check for the amount of damages, and another for the costs, "even this is better than being bothered by Mrs. Jennings, especially as she wanted somebody to care for her."
H. H.
HINTS FOR AN HISTORICAL PLAY,
TO BE CALLED
WILLIAM RUFUS; OR, THE RED ROVER.
Act 1. Walter Tyrrel, the son of a Norman Papa, Has, somehow or other, a Saxon Mamma: Though humble, yet far above mere vulgar loons, He's a sort of a Sub in the Rufus dragoons; Has travell'd but comes home abruptly, the rather That some unknown rascal has murder'd his father; And scarce has he pick'd out, and stuck in his quiver, The arrow that pierc'd the old gentleman's liver, When he finds, as misfortunes come rarely alone, That his Sweetheart has bolted,—with whom is not known. But, as murder will out, he at last finds the lady At court, with her character grown rather shady; This gives him the "Blues," and impairs the delight He'd have otherwise felt when they dub him a Knight For giving a runaway stallion a check, And preventing his breaking King Rufus's neck.