first and greatest man that dwelt upon it. How did her face shine, when she heard his rap at the street door about five o'clock, when he returned from the city; how glow, as she placed his bit of roast upon the tablecloth, the mealy potatoes, vis-a-vis, and took his cane, or umbrella, whichever it happened to be, from his hand; then, stirring up the fire, and with officious respect attending to his every want! Betty was, indeed, a jewel of a servant; nor had she, I verily believe, a spark of ambition in her whole being, beyond the desire of hearing Mr. George Stevens say, when he had refreshed his inner man to his heart's content-" Betty, take away; you have done the mutton to a turn;" or, "the lamb is excellent." This was his meed of reward for all her culinary skill, and on it she quietly existed (I mean mentally), for Betty had her full portion of the aforesaid mutton, or lamb, down in the kitchen, when her master had been served, and of the barrel of ale also; for she was actually trusted by him with the key of it, but had it run out a single day before the appointed time, such honour would have been, without scruple, taken from her for ever; but she bore her honours meekly, filled not her cup twice down in the cellar, and was, in all things, as far as I could see, the very perfection of an old bachelor's servant.

Whilst I was staying at Peckham, in my little drawing-room on the first floor, Mr. George Stevens gave a party, actually a dinner party, to a couple of city friends and their wives; and, much to my astonishment, Betty came up to me the day previous with her master's compliments, "and would I eat a bit of mutton with him next day?" Seeing that I hesitated, she added, "that a fine piece of salmon, too, was coming down by the coach, and it was a pity if I did not taste it."

"There will be ladies here, then, I suppose ?" enquired I, still undecided.

"Oh, certainly there will, ma'am," answered Betty, "or Master would not have taken the liberty of asking you. Mrs. Fearn, the wine-merchant's lady, and—I declare I forget the other's name."

I was just on the point of saying, "My cough is so troublesome (the cause of my visiting Peckham) that I must decline the favour intended me," when the truth came out fully upon me, by the unpractised "housekeeper," as she loved to call herself; "that Master would be disappointed, if I refused, since there would be no place for the ladies to take their tea in, if I refused, for I had possession of the drawing-room, and there was no third room they could use for that purpose.'

This made it altogether a different sort of an affair; so, not wishing to appear ill-natured, I accepted Mr. Stevens's invitation most graciously, and dressed myself accordingly; yet, not being very anxious to be under an obligation to mine host for my mutton, &c. next day, I proposed, to the great satisfaction of Mrs. Betty, that I would add a pigeon pie to the dainties already alluded to by her, and, as she had so much to do, take on myself the office of purchasing the materials wanted at Camberwell-green, when I walked out in the course of the day, and of making this same savoury pie myself. From that moment I became a most popular personage with both the master and his faithful domestic.

All went on most prosperously during dinner; all the eatables were praised, and all were deserving of it. As for my pigeon pie, it was pronounced by the whole party, including Mr. Stevens himself, to be

one of the very nicest the most highly flavoured-the most deliciously seasoned pie-with the best of all possible crusts, that ever was built up together by the hand of woman. Had I not sufficient cause for self-gratulation during this my health-seeking visit at salubrious Peckham?

During dinner, much was talked about the forthcoming Lottery, and the chances whether Hazard or Bish would have either, or both of the two great capital prizes of £30,000 each. Many anecdotes were related, of how fortunate shares in former lotteries had changed hands; and, in short, that there was something very mysterious about these state speculations altogether. Mr. Fearn, I remember, with a good deal of pomposity, told us what had happened to a young cousin of his, who had been educated in Christ's hospital, and who had by himself and his powerful interest been got into a clerkship, after coming out of that establishment, of forty pounds a year, "which, I assure you," said Mr. Fearn, was a very pretty sum for a young chap, who had not a shilling in the world, nor a friend to give him one, except, indeed, myself."

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"Yes, indeed," interrupted Mrs. Fearn, throwing back her flaxen ringlets, and adjusting a little her large pearl comb at the back of her head, which was large enough and heavy enough to give her a brain fever"Yes, indeed, and prettily has he repaid you; a nasty ungrateful vagabond was that cousin of your's, Mr. Fearn, so kind as we both were to him. Did I not give him half a dozen of your fine shirts, not half worn out, when he went to Mr. Wilkin's office? and did you not take him to the warehouse of Mr. Dixon, and order all his clothes?"

"It is very true, my dear," said the gentleman, with much complacency; "but we will not amuse the company with the story of his ingratitude; I was only mentioning about the Lottery, my dear, just to show how very odd the chances are that that 'child of Satan,' for such, Mr. Stevens, I always call it."

"Pray go on," said the other visitor gentleman and lady," let us hear how it was that Tom Fearn got his thirty thousand pounds."

"The strangest thing in the world," resumed Mr. Fearn. "there's no accounting for such things. The Devil was determined Tom should have the capital prize, whether he would or no. I'll tell you all about it. You know the counting-house where I put this youngster was in St. Mary Hill, Eastcheap; it was at a wine merchant's. He was sent one evening with some letters to the post: the old Post-office, you know, in Abchurch Lane, when, as he was going through Eastcheap, he had to pass through half a-dozen young fellows he knew, who were standing talking together there by the Weigh-house; Clayton's Chapel, you know—"

I perceived that Mrs. Betty was fidgetting about the side-board, and seemed determined to hear the rest of this long-winded Lottery-yarn. "You are just the lad we wanted,' said the young men, when Tom was running past them with the letters in his hand, "what say you, my fine fellow, to making your fortune in the Lottery?'

"Say,' said Tom, that I should like, of all things, to do it; but be pleased to tell me, gentlemen, the way to do it.'

"Oh, easy enough,' said they, we have just clubbed together to buy a Lottery ticket; but here is one-sixteenth of it that nobody seems much

inclined to take you shall have it, Tom Fearn, a bargain, because you were a Blue-coat boy, and wore the yellows.'

"Now cousin Tom was always very proud and aspiring; he did not like to hear of his yellow petticoats, so he was proceeding on his way to the Post-office with a very indignant look, when one of the chaps said, Now don't be a fool, Tom Fearn, we mean you no harm: but just run and put in your letters, and then come back to us at the Falstaff's Head, and you shall hear more about it.'

"And so he did. They asked him how much money he could muster, to pay for the odd sixteenths. He fumbled in his pockets, and pulled out a seven-shilling piece (they were current, then, you know), and five shillings more."

"Yes," interrupted the flaxen-headed wife, for the second time," and you had given him that very seven-shilling piece to buy himself a new hat with, an ungrateful—”

"Never mind, my dear," said the placid husband, "let me tell my story my own way, or I shall never have done with it. So, gentlemen and ladies; I beg your pardon, the ladies ought to be mentioned first. Mrs. Griffiths-madam, will you take wine with me? madam, I wait your move. So to finish my story about Tom and this same Lottery ticket. He just called in at the Falstaff's Head, in Eastcheap, on his return from putting the letters in, when they all agreed (I mean the young chaps, gentlemen), to let him have the odd sixteenth for his seven-shilling piece; and his five shillings, which was, you know, a piece of good luck, as the sixteenth was worth then, for the wheel was immensely rich, as it is indeed now, at least six and twenty shillings."

I still observed that Mrs. Betty loitered about the room to hear the finishing of this interminable, and, to me, most stupid story; and so did the master of the house, and the relater's own wife to boot, who had no doubt often heard it before. Mr. Stevens fidgeted about in his chair, hemmed once or twice, sipped his wine, and played with his doyley. But no mercy existed in the bosom of Mr. Fearn: on he went, as he passed the bottle, filling the glass of the sober-minded lady who sat before him, whose name I have forgotten; thus defrauding her of that portion of fame she would otherwise have gained, by being mentioned in these

narratives.

"Well, my cousin Tom went without his new hat by this lottery speculation of his," continued Mr. Fearn." In a few days after this, these foolish young men, who had clubbed together to buy the ticket, wanted their money again; and so they resolved to make a raffle of their shares, and by this means get a few shillings besides. They had soon their raffle-paper nearly full, when they apprised Tom Fearn of it, advising him to include his sixteenth with their shares of the ticket, and realise a profit. They met again at the Falstaff's Head,' where they were to decide who was to be the fortunate winner of the ticket which was now to be thrown for, entire, as Tom agreed to let his share be included, in order that he might make himself sure of about fourteen shillings profit, more than cent. per cent. you know, Mr. Stevens, for his first outlay."

"A shrewd, clever fellow he must have been," observed Mr. Stevens, approvingly, "no man should ever refuse such an advantage. That was realising".

"As I said before," continued the loquacious Mr. Fearn, "Tom was born to be fortunate. The raffle-paper wanted still one member to be filled; it was No. 9."

Mrs. Betty now threw down a large tumbler from the side-board; but strange to relate, it was not broken. "Nine is a very fortunate number," said Mr. Fearn," I have always found it so; and I think my cousin Tom had often heard me say so: for when he found that it was Number Nine that was vacant, he was seized with a strong desire to fill in his own name opposite to it, but he had no money-he had cleaned himself out, as I may say, the week before, when he had purchased his sixteenth.

"Have you no silver filligree at all, Mr. Tom Fearn?' said the President, the shares in the raffle are only five shillings a-piece; have you no money's worth? That will do quite as well.'

"I have a bran new India handkerchief at home,' said Tom, that a cousin of mine has just given me.'

"That was I," said Mrs. Fearn, "I liked him then very much; I bought that handkerchief at Flint's, and paid five shillings for it, and it was worth seven; but as you did not like the pattern, my dear, I gave it, after I had hemmed and marked it, to your cousin; he was certainly then a very handsome youth indeed."

"And a handsome man he is now," said the whole company in a breath, saving myself and Mrs. Betty, who uttered not a word, but seemed to drink in the whole discourse, to me dull as ditch-water, with greedy ears.

"Run and fetch your handkerchief, lad,' said the good natured President, who was a banker's clerk, and had been in the Blue-coat School himself, Let Tom Fearn have another chance; who knows but he may ride in his coach yet.' Away scampered cousin Tom; he had to run as far as the Minories, where he lodged; but no time lost he, and he filled in his name opposite No, 9, before he set off.

"They would not wait 'till he returned, for they could not spare the time; so the dice were brought in, and above twenty of them had thrown as he entered the room, and gave his handsome red and yellow India handkerchief into the hands of his friend the President.

"Not a quarter of the people were there who had put down their names and money; so the President threw for them, as is always usual in such cases."

1

"I don't like that way at all," said both ladies. "It is not always done fairly; I remember at Margate I put in," said Mrs. Fearn," for a very beautiful ivory work-box, and"

"My dear!" remonstrated the half-angry husband, "you should never let one story cross the road of another, and try to smother it. I shall have done in a moment, and then you will be at liberty to relate to the company all about your mischance at Margate, where, I do think, you were, as they say, completely jockied."

"You go to Margate every year," ventured just to observe the master of the house, hoping to strangle this long-winded story himself, of which he was heartily sick. Vain effort! his guest was not to be beat off his ground, or drawn off it by a false scent.

"Mrs. Fearn knows every lane and alley in Margate, as well as

N. S.-VOL. I.

3 Y

she

does her way to church, and a great deal better too," observed facetiously her admiring spouse.

"She knew how to lead you there, however," exclaimed the taciturn gentleman opposite, whose name I recollect not. "I don't know how it is, gentlemen, but most all the ladies contrive, not only to find their way themselves to church once in their lives at least, but to make us follow them."

"Ladies are always led up to the altar by the gentlemen, I should imagine," remarked Mrs. Fearn with a little toss of her well arranged head, "do you not think so, Madam ?" turning to me.

"Oh, certainly," I replied, smiling, "we must not allow that we are ever the leaders in this expedition, especially as we are obliged to be wheelers ever afterwards. But we interrupt your husband's story."

There was some little malice in this last remark of mine; but it was not made altogether from such motive. I had interrupted, clearly, the high interest our good, clean, bustling Mrs. Betty had in the story of Mr. Tom Fearn and his lottery ticket; so I wished she might be, at the end of it, gratified.

"Madam, you are most polite," said the historian of his cousin's fortune, bowing to me, "I will now finish it off in a brace of semi-quavers. "You are entitled to your throw, Mr. Tom Fearn,' said the President, putting the silk handkerchief into his pocket, after having ascertained its value.

"Which was worth at least seven shillings," interrupted the voluble help-mate of the narrator.

"Give me leave, my dear-" continued he, "I wish you had not such a knack of stopping me, whenever I am telling a story.'

"It is more than I, or all the women in England could do together," muttered the lady with the flaxen ringlets, "is it not time we should go up stairs?" and she actually yawned.

Mr. Fearn affected not to hear this whispered aside; on he bowled, fixing his eye now on me; for had not I been the patroness of his little history?

"Well, madam, my cousin Tom took up the dice-box-it was the first time he had ever clutched one; and the Devil, we all know, assists young beginners.

"Doublets, sixes !' exclaimed the President, writing it down opposite number nine. Now, throw again. Doublets again! by all that's wonderful; look, gentlemen, he has thrown fives. Once more, my hearty;" and he slapped Tom Fearn kindly on the shoulder.

"Rattle went the box; all the members now crowded round the table -out poured the dice- Sixes, or I am no gentleman,' vociferated the President. My friend, Mr. Tom Fearn, has won the ticket, I'll bet any of hundred to one;' but no one would take him up.

you a

"The matter was soon settled; there was no competition that could come near my cousin Tom's throw: only think, the astonishing number he had thrown!"

Mr. Stevens, having nothing better to do, began to calculate, "Let me see," said he, "first, the doublets, sixes, they make just twenty-four; then the fives, twenty; after that, the other sires, twenty-four more: yes, exactly sixty-eight. I would have taken five hundred to one in his favour."