RICHARD BIDDULPH;1

OR,

THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A SCHOOL-BOY.

CHAPTER XXVII.

MARY STONE IN SEARH OF A SITUATION-MEETS WITH A BUTTERMAN.

GOOD, kind, gentle, loving kind of people have pleasing dreams, full of charitable fancies, and replete with private philanthropy, which helps to make their sleep sweet and exceedingly refreshing, so that they get up with light hearts, full of warm affection towards the whole of mankind, and go about their practices with renewed enthusiasm. Little girls too, who try to make doves happy and kittens more playful than they naturally are,-kindly disposed little darlings, who nurture pure thoughts, and practise small infantile kind of virtues, have their dreams also, which make them smile as they lie upon their pillows, and continue smiling when they desert them. Men of the world dream; as also do beauteous ladies, cheesemongers, butchers, and drapers: then it must be remembered, that woe-begone paupers have their dreams too--hard, lean, revengeful kind of dreams-not substantial, but shadowy and hard-hearted felons are plagued with horrible shapes, which open jagged wounds, from which issues red glittering blood; whilst parted lovers,-whether in palaces or in unions-see one another, and clasp one another, and love one another over and over again in dreams. There are indeed, a world of dreams—of so varied a character, that we look, and watch, and behold, and wonder, until even this actual life appears to be but a mere dream-a thought—a fantasy-an emotion-or anything but a real bona fide, natural, everyday existence, made up of proud luxury on one side of the street, and squalid poverty on the other.

We left Mary Stone, if you remember, dear reader, snug between a pair of coarse sheets, fast asleep, since which time, she had many little episodes of dreams flitting before her eyes as she slept, which made her smile a sweet and gentle smile, as though she were returning that of a smiling angel; but, as so much has been said about dreams already, it is better to pass into positive, stirring, striving life.

The little girl, at an early hour, jumped out of bed, and, after putting on her stockings, garters, frock, and those sort of things, partook of a simple breakfast with the waggoner's boy, when they went forth together, in order that she might get a respectable place in a respectable family. The waggoner's boy was a keen-witted, suspicious kind of fellow, who was up to every practice of the Londoners; and having

1 Continued from page 220, vol. XLI.

taken a kind of liking to Mary, he was determined to see her planted in a respectable house, in order that he might see her when he came up with the waggon, and continue his acquaintance.

Mary had no inclination to call upon Mister Death and his wife, so that with the advice of the boy, she thought she would surprise them one day when she was well off and to do in the world, rather than risk any unkindness now she was nearly pennyless. Accordingly, they went about searching for a place, out of one shop into another, and so on, into many houses to which they were recommended, although Mary was not successful, and was beginning to despair, when her companion slapped her gently on the back, and said,

"Come, come, lassie, don't be downhearted-like-Rume wasn't built in a day; and if we only persevere we are sure to get on somehow or another."

"Yes, but only think of your time, and you must think of that," enjoined Mary.

"Puuf about time, lassie, if we aint got time to do a good turn, we oughtn't to have none to do a bad'un, ought we?"

"No, that we ought not, and there is not, surely, is there?" "Oh, ain't there though! Why, look there," he continued, as he pointed out to Mary a big costermonger, who was belabouring a small donkey, with a thick stick, although it did not seem to go any the faster for it. "Now, look there, ain't that a bad action?"

"Yes, indeed it is, very bad indeed," replied the girl, as she looked at the fellow, and saw the boy go up and take the stick from his hand, and use it so adroitly over the front of the fellow's face, that he actually cried out for mercy, when the boy snapped the weapon into four pieces, and presented the brute-not the donkey-with one of his own cabbages, in order that he might persuade by kindness rather than by force. If the waggoner's boy had not been a strong lusty-armed fellow, he would have got the worst for his interference, but as he was used to handling butts of wine, or vinegar, or oil, as well as larger packages, he thought nothing of mastering men twice his own size, or subduing morose, big-headed vagabonds.

"Now, lassie, after paying that fellow out like, go into that butter-shop, for two of my sisters got places at butter-shops. I have heard, that getting places for girls, helps butter-shops like, because, servants as get situations through butter-shops, can't say nothing about bad butter. And it does seem possible like, don't it?"

"Yes, but it's the missis that finds out bad butter, isn't it?" asked Mary.

"To be sure it is-but then it's the gal as satisfies the missis as it ain't bad, but actually is good. But come in here," he continued, as they entered into a large butter-shop with great tubs, and piles, and rolls, and pats of butter here there and everywhere, whilst there were elephants, tigers, mice, ducks, polecats, all made of butter, resting themselves luxuriantly in the window. Then there were numberless hams hanging upon nails from the ceiling; and a countless variety of slices, pieces, and flitches of bacon-some very fat and some streaky; with large boxes of eggs one upon another; bladders stretchingly full of lard; and cheeses, varying in form from a circle to a square,

and then going up to a fretted kind of pyramid. It was a large shop in the neighbourhood of the west-end, and had many young men behind its well-scrubbed counters, who were weighing, as fast as they were able, half-ounces, ounces, aye, and even pounds, which made the scales ring again. When the waggoner's boy and Mary entered into the shop, they were treated in the same way as the rest of those within it, but it did come to their turn to be served eventually, when the shopman, in his anxiety to keep the weights alive, mistook the nature of the boy's enquiry, who, upon asking "Do you know of a situation for a gal," was answered with "Prime salt is thirteen, but real nice fresh can't be done under sixteen-and-a-half, that I do assure you."

The shrewd boy knew in a moment the reason of the mistake, and made allowance for it, when, upon repeating the inquiry, they were ushered right down the centre of the shop, with a great deal of "Yes, Sir," and a vast quantity of "Step this way, Miss," into a snug counting-house, with a large fire in it, with a small-featured man sitting at a table, dressed in a white apron, and holding a pen within his hand. Upon learning the object of their visit, he desired them to be seated, when he took down a book, and, after referring to it, said, "What kind of a situation does the young woman want?"

"Oh, I'm not particular, Sir."

"No, she's not particular, Sir," rejoined the boy, "only she won't go where they have red-herrings for dinner twice in a month, nor once either, Sir."

"Well, that's good and proper, and spirited; now I like that-I do, upon my veracity.'

"What's your veracity," asked the boy.

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'Why, I'll tell you," answered the butterman, as he cast a scrutinizing glance at Mary, "there come a tall girl here last Janivary, and wanted a place, just the same as you may now at the present. Well, I takes the book down and refers, upon which, I asks her what she'd had for dinner, when she replied," here he turned to the boy-" when she replied, Red-herrings and a couple of potatoes.' Well, I was green then, so I of course, recommended her to Missis Daws, which used to use two pounds o' fresh, three pounds o' salt, besides a quarter of a flitch weekly. Well, in course she got the situation. Yes, and she's got the situation now-and, as a natural consequence, they only has, no fresh at all, only two pounds and a half of salt, and no bacon, which makes me like them as don't like red-herrings. D'ye see?" he asked, with a scrutinizing glance.

"Yes, Sir, I do," replied the boy.

"Yes, Sir, but that aint all neither, for all the cooks as gets places from this shop, uses fresh butter with pastry. Mind that." "Yes, Sir."

"Yes, and there's something in letting o' the taturs be mashed, mind that."

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, but butter is the staple article, ain't it, though?" he asked, "and if it ain't, why bacon is, and if that ain't, why there's lard, and eggs, and cheese, d'ye see, young man?"

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Yes, Sir, I do, but what place can you recommend to this gal, aye, Sir," he asked, trying to humour the old man.

"Well, then, let's see; there's Mrs. Wilson wants a cook-the last left for stopping here upon an arrant;-then there's Mrs. Smithers wants a cook, which went away because she only got eighty-four pounds of dripping in six months;-then there's Mrs. Jones wants a cook, who was turned away-she was-for giving a policeman two legs of pork, and three-quarters of a pound of fresh;-then there's"— "Yes, but something for this gal like."

"Oh, aye. Why, Mrs. Jenson wants a maid of all work-and Mrs. Smith wants a maid of all work-and Mrs., Mrs., Mrs., Mrs., Mrs."there seemed to be no end to the Missus's that wanted maids of all work, all of whom described their respective places as regular heavens upon earth, actual little paradises, where work was a mere name, and where scouring, scrubbing, rubbing, washing, wringing, rinsing, and ironing, were merely nominal, and not at all worthy of being considered or taken into account upon making the bargain. Then again, these several ladies invariably held out great inducements, in the shape of two, three, four, aye, and even five bright, solid, golden,-real golden sovereigns-in consideration of twelve short months playing or trifling about their respective houses. As the butterman closed the long list of wants connected with all-work, he asked the two, which they would prefer trying first, as he observed,

"If the young woman likes, she may run'em all through in a year or two, and even then not make a friend by it."

"Give us a few names, Sir, upon the back of your card, and at any rate, she can go and see some of the ladies."

"To be sure I will-but mind, don't tell'em you like herrings, mind that."

"Yes, Sir, I will be very particular about that, Sir," replied Mary, innocently.

“Aye, and mind you say you come from a butter country, and know what good butter really is."

"Yes, Sir, but I don't, Sir."

“Oh, you don't, don't you, why, I really thought that you did; but you must stick up for the living, mind that."

"Oh, she'll do that, Sir," said the boy, as they wished the butterman good-day, and passed through the shop back again into the street, when the boy took out the card, and thus addressed Mary:

"Do you know, lassie, that that butterman is a bit of a dog, and yet he isn't, neither, for he only wants every one to carry by his waggon, and can't abear any falling off in the weight of the parcels. Now, I tell you, you mus'nt mind what he says about the livings, but simply reply to questions with the truth."

"To be sure, I meant to do so, because our parson"

"Oh, never mind what the parson said, lassie," broke in the waggoner's boy, becoming argumentative, "but only look always to what your own heart says like, as that's the best parson. Mind, I don't say nothing agin the parsons, but I do say, that when the parson's asleep, your heart ain't, which bangs the parson hollow, for he's wide-awake to everything, if we're to believe the missis of the charity-school, as well as the hedicated."

"Yes, I do feel my heart bump sometimes," said the girl.

"Do you," asked the waggoner's boy, energetically.

"Yes, yes, there is one boy-he was a little boy when we last saw each other—that I think about, when my heart bumps."

"No, does it though?"

"Yes, and when I think what cruel people there are about the streets, and I don't know what he is doing, or where he is in the world, then my heart bumps."

"But, lassie, look at me, there steadily look at me in the facethere, now does your heart bump now?"

"No, not at all, now."

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'Oh, it don't, don't it," replied the boy, as he winked both his eyes at once, and put her small hand through his lusty arm, when he continued, "that's a lucky fellow what makes your heart bump, lassie." "Is he? I hope he is."

"Why, he ought to be."

"Why? asked Mary, with surprise.

"Why? Because you love him, don't you?"

"Yes, more than all the world beside," replied the girl, as they went off in pursuit of a situation.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE FINE LADY, AND THE SERVANT OF ALL WORK.

AFTER referring to the back of the butterman's card, the waggoner's boy accompanied Mary Stone to the doorway of many respectable houses, which the girl entered one after another, whilst he remained waiting her arrival on the outside. Ladies who engage servants of all work, are such every day kind of characters, and resemble one another so intimately, that it is not necessary to describe more than one of them, in order that she may stand up and speak for her class-which is large --and represent their peculiar notions as well as opinions. Mrs. Catherine Pearse was a thin quick lively lady, of a certain age, with an uncertain temper, who looked for the approbation of society because of her moral and virtuous character, and who, moreover, was most particular-that is, exceedingly nice-about her dress, or out of door appearance. Mrs. Pearse had a snug kind of house enough, up a quiet court, on the outside of which there were two scrapers, a lump of straw, and an old mat, which were merely hints-but for all that they were to be attended to that the young men lodgers, as well as those few young ladies who came to see them, were expected to scrape, wipe, and rub their boots, or ankle-jacks, as the case might be, previous to entering into the dominion of cleanliness. Upon opening the door, Mary saw three other mats one after another, which invited her, as well as all those who gained admission, to wipe, and wipe, and wipe again, before ascending the narrow stairs which led to the lodgers single habitations. Still for all these scrapers and mats, Mary could not help observing the slovenly appearance of the place generally, although it was not for her to say so; and really it was well that she did not, for Mrs.