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                               BENTLEY'S
                              MISCELLANY.

                               VOL. II.

                                LONDON:
                           RICHARD BENTLEY,
                        NEW BURLINGTON STREET.

                                 1837.


                                LONDON:
                      PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
                     Dorset Street, Fleet Street.




ADDRESS.


Twelve months have elapsed since we first took the field, and every
successive number of our Miscellany has experienced a warmer reception,
and a more extensive circulation, than its predecessor.

In the opening of the new year, and the commencement of our new volume,
we hope to make many changes for the better, and none for the worse;
and, to show that, while we have one grateful eye to past patronage,
we have another wary one to future favours; in short, that, like the
heroine of the sweet poem descriptive of the faithlessness and perjury
of Mr. John Oakhum, of the Royal Navy, we look two ways at once.

It is our intention to usher in the new year with a very merry
greeting, towards the accomplishment of which end we have prevailed
upon a long procession of distinguished friends to mount their hobbies
on the occasion, in humble imitation of those adventurous and
aldermanic spirits who gallantly bestrode their foaming chargers on the
memorable ninth of this present month, while

    "The stones did rattle underneath,
    As if Cheapside were mad."

These, and a hundred other great designs, preparations, and surprises,
are in contemplation, for the fulfilment of all of which we are already
bound in two volumes cloth, and have no objection, if it be any
additional security to the public, to stand bound in twenty more.

        BOZ.

        30th November, 1837.




  CONTENTS
  OF THE
  SECOND VOLUME.


  SONGS of the Month--July, by "Father Prout;" August; September, by
  "Father Prout;" October, by J.M.; November, by C.D.; December, by
  Punch                                 Pages 1, 109, 213, 321, 429, 533

  Papers by Boz:
    Oliver Twist, or the Parish Boy's Progress,    2, 110, 215, 430, 534
    The Mudfog Association for the Advancement of Everything         397

  Poetry by Mrs. Cornwell Baron Wilson:
    Elegiac Stanzas                                                   16
    Lady Blue's Ball                                                 380
    My Father's Old Hall                                             453

  Fictions of the Middle Ages: The Butterfly Bishop, by Delta         17

  A New Song to the Old Tune of Kate Kearney                          25

  What Tom Binks did when he didn't know what to do with himself      26

  A Gentleman Quite                                                   36

  The Foster-Child                                                    37

  The White Man's Devil-house, by F.H. Rankin                        46

  A Lyric for Lovers                                                  50

  The Remains of Hajji Baba, by the Author of "Zohrab"            51,166

  Shakspeare Papers, by Dr. Maginn:
    No. III. Romeo                                                    57
         IV. Midsummer Night's Dream--Bottom the Weaver              370
          V. His Ladies--Lady Macbeth                                550

  The Piper's Progress, by Father Prout                               67

  Papers by J.A. Wade:
    No. II. Darby the Swift                                           68
       III. The Darbiad                                              464
    Song of the Old Bell                                             196
    Serenade to Francesca                                            239
    Phelim O'Toole's Nine Muse-ings on his Native County             319

  Papers by Captain Medwin:
    The Duel                                                          76
    Mascalbruni                                                      254
    The Last of the Bandits                                          585

  The Monk of Ravenne                                                 81

  A Marine's Courtship, by M. Burke Honan                             82

  Family Stories, by Thomas Ingoldsby:
    No. VI. Mrs. Botherby's Story--The Leech of Folkestone            91
       VII. Patty Morgan the Milkmaid's Story--Look at the Clock     207

  What though we were Rivals of yore, by T. Haynes Bayly             124

  Papers by the Author of "Stories of Waterloo:"
    Love in the City                                                 125
    The Regatta, No. I.: Run Across Channel                          299
    Legends--of Ballar; the Church of the Seven; and the Tory
      Islanders                                                      527

  Three Notches from the Devil's Tail, or the Man in the Spanish
    Cloak, by the Author of "Reminiscences of a Monthly Nurse"       135

  The Serenade                                                       149

  The Portrait Gallery, by the Author of "The Bee Hive"
    No. III. The Cannon Family                                       150
         IV. Journey to Boulogne                                     454

  A Chapter on Laughing                                              163

  A Muster-chaunt for the Members of the Temperance Societies        165

  My Uncle: a Fragment                                               175

  Why the Wind blows round St. Paul's, by Joyce Jocund               176

  Papers by C. Whitehead:
    Rather Hard to Take                                              181
    The Narrative of John Ward Gibson                                240

  Nights at Sea, by the Old Sailor:
    No. IV. The French Captain's Story                               183
         V. The French Captain's Story                               471
        VI. Jack among the Mummies                                   610

  Midnight Mishaps, by Edward Mayhew                                 197

  The Dream                                                          206

  Genius, or the Dog's-meat Dog, by Egerton Webbe                    214

  The Poisoners of the Seventeenth Century, by George Hogarth:
    No. I. The Marchioness de Brinvilliers                           229
       II. Sir Thomas Overbury                                       322

  Smoke                                                              268

  Some Passages in the Life of a Disappointed Man                    270

  The Professor, by Goliah Gahagan                                   277

  Biddy Tibbs, who cared for Nobody, by H. Holl                      288

  The Key of Granada                                                 303

  Glorvina, the Maid of Meath, by J. Sheridan Knowles                304

  An Excellent Offer, by Marmaduke Blake                             340

  The Autobiography of a Good Joke                                   354

  The Secret, by M. Paul de Kock                                     360

  The Man with the Club-foot                                         381

  A Remonstratory Ode to Mr. Cross on the Eruption of Mount Vesuvius,
    by Joyce Jocund                                                  413

  Memoirs of Beau Nash                                               414

  Grub-street News                                                   425

  The Confessions of an Elderly Gentleman                            445

  The Relics of St. Pius                                             462

  A few Inquiries                                                    470

  Lines occasioned by the Death of Count Borowlaski                  484

  A Chapter on Widows                                                485

  Petrarch in London                                                 494

  Adventures in Paris, by Toby Allspy:
    The Five Floors                              No. I. 495; No. II. 575

  Martial in Town                                                    507

  Astronomical Agitation--Reform of the Solar System                 508

  The Adventures of a Tale, by Mrs. Erskine Norton                   511

  When and Why the Devil Invented Brandy                             518

  The Wit in spite of Himself, by Richard Johns                      521

  The Apportionment of the World, from Schiller                      549

  Ode to the Queen                                                   568

  Suicide                                                            569

  The Glories of Good Humour                                         591

  Song of the Modern Time                                            594

  Capital Punishments in London Eighty Years ago--Earl Ferrers       595

  A Peter Pindaric to and of a Fog, by Punch                         606

  The Castle by the Sea                                              623

  Legislative Nomenclature                                           624

  Nobility in Disguise, by Dudley Costello                           626

  Another Original of "Not a Drum was heard,"                        632

  Index                                                              633




ILLUSTRATIONS.

BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.


                                                              Page

  Oliver Twist--The Dodger's way of going to work                2

  A Marine's Courtship                                          82

  Oliver Twist recovering from the fever                       110

  Midnight Mishaps                                             197

  Oliver Twist and his affectionate Friends                    215

  A Disappointed Man                                           270

  The Autobiography of a Good Joke                             354

  The Secret                                                   360

  Oliver Twist returns to the Jew's den                        430

  The Confessions of an Elderly Gentleman                      445

  Oliver Twist instructed by the Dodger                        533

  Jack among the Mummies                                       610


  Portrait of Beau Nash, by W. Greatbach                       414




BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.




SONG OF THE MONTH. No. VII.

July, 1837.

BEING A BAPTISMAL CHAUNT FOR THE BIRTH OF OUR SECOND VOLUME, AS SUNG
(IN CHARACTER) BY FATHER PROUT.

(Tune "_The groves of Blarney_.")

"Ille ego qui quondam," &c. &c.--_AEneid._


            I.

    In the month of Janus,
    When Boz to gain us,
    Quite "miscellaneous,"
      Flashed his wit so keen,
    One, (Prout they call him,)
    In style most solemn,
    Led off the volume
      Of his magazine.


            II.

    Though MAGA,'mongst her
    Bright set of youngsters,
    Had many songsters
      For her opening tome;
    Yet she would rather
    Invite "the Father,"
    And an indulgence gather
      From the Pope of Rome.


            III.

    And, such a beauty
    From head to shoe-tie,
    Without dispute we
      Found her first boy,
    That she det_a_rmined,
    There's such a charm in 't,
    The Father's _sarmint_
      She'd again employ.


            IV.

    While other children
    Are quite bewilderin',
    'Tis joy that fill'd her in
      This bantling; 'cause
    What eye but glistens,
    And what ear but listens,
    When the clargy christens
      A babe of Boz?


            V.

    I've got a scruple
    That this young pupil
    Surprised its parent
      Ere her time was sped;
    Else I'm unwary,
    Or, 'tis she's a fairy,
    For in January
      She was brought to bed.


            VI.

    This infant may be
    A six months' baby,
    But may his cradle
      Be blest! say I;
    And luck defend him!
    And joy attend him!
    Since we can't mend him,
      Born in July.


            VII.

    He's no abortion,
    But born to fortune,
    And most opportune,
      Though before his time;
    Him, Muse, O! nourish,
    And make him flourish
    Quite Tommy-Moorish
      Both in prose and rhyme!


            VIII.

    I remember, also,
    That this month they call so,
    From Roman JULIUS
      The "_Caesarian_" styled;
    Who was no gosling,
    But, like this Boz-ling,
    From birth a dazzling
      And precocious child!

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!




OLIVER TWIST;

OR, THE PARISH BOY'S PROGRESS.

BY BOZ.

ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.


CHAPTER THE NINTH.

CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT OLD GENTLEMAN,
AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS.

It was late next morning when Oliver awoke from a sound, long sleep.
There was nobody in the room beside, but the old Jew, who was boiling
some coffee in a saucepan for breakfast, and whistling softly to
himself as he stirred it round and round with an iron spoon. He would
stop every now and then to listen when there was the least noise below;
and, when he had satisfied himself, he would go on whistling and
stirring again, as before.

Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he was not thoroughly
awake. There is a drowsy, heavy state, between sleeping and waking,
when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half open, and
yourself half conscious of everything that is passing around you, than
you would in five nights with your eyes fast closed, and your senses
wrapt in perfect unconsciousness. At such times, a mortal knows just
enough of what his mind is doing to form some glimmering conception of
its mighty powers, its bounding from earth and spurning time and space,
when freed from the irksome restraint of its corporeal associate.

Oliver was precisely in the condition I have described. He saw the Jew
with his half-closed eyes, heard his low whistling, and recognised the
sound of the spoon grating against the saucepan's sides; and yet the
self-same senses were mentally engaged at the same time, in busy action
with almost everybody he had ever known.

When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to the hob, and,
standing in an irresolute attitude for a few minutes as if he did not
well know how to employ himself, turned round and looked at Oliver, and
called him by his name. He did not answer, and was to all appearance
asleep.

After satisfying himself upon this head, the Jew stepped gently to the
door, which he fastened; he then drew forth, as it seemed to Oliver,
from some trap in the floor, a small box, which he placed carefully
on the table. His eyes glistened as he raised the lid and looked in.
Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down, and took from it a
magnificent gold watch, sparkling with diamonds.

[Illustration: Oliver amazed at the Dodger's Mode of 'going to work']

"Aha!" said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and distorting every
feature with a hideous grin. "Clever dogs! clever dogs! Staunch to the
last! Never told the old parson where they were; never peached upon old
Fagin. And why should they? It wouldn't have loosened the knot, or kept
the drop up a minute longer. No, no, no! Fine fellows! fine fellows!"

With these, and other muttered reflections of the like nature, the
Jew once more deposited the watch in its place of safety. At least
half a dozen more were severally drawn forth from the same box, and
surveyed with equal pleasure; besides rings, brooches, bracelets, and
other articles of jewellery, of such magnificent materials and costly
workmanship that Oliver had no idea even of their names.

Having replaced these trinkets, the Jew took out another, so small
that it lay in the palm of his hand. There seemed to be some very
minute inscription on it, for the Jew laid it flat upon the table, and,
shading it with his hand, pored over it long and earnestly. At length
he set it down as if despairing of success, and, leaning back in his
chair, muttered,

"What a fine thing capital punishment is! Dead men never repent; dead
men never bring awkward stories to light. The prospect of the gallows,
too, makes them hardy and bold. Ah, it's a fine thing for the trade!
Five of them strung up in a row, and none left to play booty or turn
white-livered!"

As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes which had been
staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver's face; the boy's eyes
were fixed on his in mute curiosity, and, although the recognition was
only for an instant--for the briefest space of time that can possibly
be conceived,--it was enough to show the old man that he had been
observed. He closed the lid of the box with a loud crash, and, laying
his hand on a bread-knife which was on the table, started furiously up.
He trembled very much though; for, even in his terror, Oliver could see
that the knife quivered in the air.

"What's that?" said the Jew. "What do you watch me for? Why are you
awake? What have you seen? Speak out, boy! Quick--quick! for your life!"

"I wasn't able to sleep any longer, sir," replied Oliver, meekly. "I am
very sorry if I have disturbed you, sir."

"You were not awake an hour ago?" said the Jew, scowling fiercely on
the boy.

"No--no, indeed, sir," replied Oliver.

"Are you sure?" cried the Jew, with a still fiercer look than before,
and a threatening attitude.

"Upon my word I was not, sir," replied Oliver, earnestly. "I was not,
indeed, sir."

"Tush, tush, my dear!" said the Jew, suddenly resuming his old manner,
and playing with the knife a little before he laid it down, as if to
induce the belief that he had caught it up in mere sport. "Of course I
know that, my dear. I only tried to frighten you. You're a brave boy.
Ha! ha! you're a brave boy, Oliver!" and the Jew rubbed his hands with
a chuckle, but looked uneasily at the box notwithstanding.

"Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?" said the Jew, laying
his hand upon it after a short pause.

"Yes, sir," replied Oliver.

"Ah!" said the Jew, turning rather pale. "They--they're mine, Oliver;
my little property. All I have to live upon in my old age. The folks
call me a miser, my dear,--only a miser; that's all."

Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser to live in
such a dirty place, with so many watches; but, thinking that perhaps
his fondness for the Dodger and the other boys cost him a good deal
of money, he only cast a deferential look at the Jew, and asked if he
might get up.

"Certainly, my dear,--certainly," replied the old gentleman. "Stay.
There's a pitcher of water in the corner by the door. Bring it here,
and I'll give you a basin to wash in, my dear."

Oliver got up, walked across the room, and stooped for one instant to
raise the pitcher. When he turned his head, the box was gone.

He had scarcely washed himself and made everything tidy by emptying
the basin out of the window, agreeably to the Jew's directions, than
the Dodger returned, accompanied by a very sprightly young friend whom
Oliver had seen smoking on the previous night, and who was now formally
introduced to him as Charley Bates. The four then sat down to breakfast
off the coffee and some hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had brought
home in the crown of his hat.

"Well," said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and addressing himself
to the Dodger, "I hope you've been at work this morning, my dears."

"Hard," replied the Dodger.

"As nails," added Charley Bates.

"Good boys, good boys!" said the