"Exactly. Last night I slept in Drury Lane; the night before in the Borough; to-night, you see, I honour your neighbourhood with a visit; this morning I make a call in Tottenham Court Road, and then on to Gretna Green."
"Gretna Green!" I exclaimed; "whatever is taking you in an advertising van to Gretna Green?"
"A matter of affection," he said, seriously. "Jack, did you ever see an elopement in high life? Well, then, my good fellow, you shall see one this morning. Here, I say, old slowcoach," he exclaimed, putting his head out of the door, and speaking to the driver. "The old shop, Great Russell Street; and take care of the corners, mind. The stupid fool nearly upset the van the other day, driving sharp round Percy Street. I was breakfasting at the time, and received the teapot in my bosom, besides stamping a medal with the exact copy of my features on a pound of butter."
"But how came you here?"
"Why, the constable drove me to it. We had a running match together last week. The long-legged runner of the law was gaining rapidly upon me. I saw Whitecross before me. Fear lent me the rapidity of a mad bull. Every one got out of my way. I bounded through the Little Turnstile like a pea through a tube. I found myself in Holborn. I felt the asthma of the bailiff close behind me. My left shoulder ached with the ague of a thousand writs. There is a touch in human nature which makes all mankind run; and that is the touch of a sheriff's officer. I ran across the road, but lo! an immense tower, a moving house, a mountain on wheels, in short, an advertising van, obstructed my path. Hope whispered into my ear, 'Get into it, you donkey!' In another minute I had jumped over the driver's head, and was inside these hospitable walls. I peeped through one of the eyes of 'Grimstone's Snuff' posters, and saw my pursuer looking wildly for me in every direction, wondering where I had disappeared to. I bought that good driver's silence, and I have remained his tenant ever since. We go on remarkably well together, excepting when he takes a strange turn, and upsets me by his clumsy driving. I stop here, because it is not safe to venture out, and so I have furnished my portable apartment as comfortably as I can." Here the van stopped, and Watts said, "Now, my good fellow, I must trouble you to leave me. This is the house where my flame lives. You see it is burning now in the bedroom window. She elopes with me to-night. I have been courting her now, thanks to that long ladder, for the last week. A modern version of Romeo and Juliet. She has consented to entrust her fortune to me. She is an heiress, as I needn't tell you. But her window opens. Dear creature, how anxiously she's expecting me. Fondest Emily, I fly to you. Leave me, Jackey, and witness this elopement in high life outside my humble habitation." So saying, he ran up the ladder which was perched against the side of the interior of his lodging. I watched him from the street. The top of the monster cart was just on a level with the bedroom windows. A fair form issued out of one. A pair of arms caught the trembling figure, and they disappeared together down the hollow square of the van. The next moment a handkerchief, with a portrait of the winner of the Derby, was waved out of one of the little windows of the vehicle, and I heard Watts's voice call out, "Coachman, Gretna Green!" Whether the van ever reached its destination is a mystery which must remain in darkness for the present.
POPULAR CONTINENTAL DELUSIONS RESPECTING ENGLAND.
That Englishmen never eat anything but "biftecks" and "pomme-de-terres."
That a Lord, when he is displeased with his wife, can take her to Smithfield, and putting a rope round her neck, sell her in the market for a pot of beer, or whatever a drunken drover chooses to bid for her.
That brandy is allowed to be drunk in the House of Lords.
That no daguerreotype can be taken in London, in consequence of the perpetual fogs; and that the church clocks are illuminated for the same obscure reason.