The Sun.
London, England, 1863-10-31 00:00:00

OUR MIRY ANNE.

Mr. Ford closed the door on his visitor ; then going to
the head of the kitchen stairs, he asked, in a subdued tone,
"Susan, are the boys ready to go and see their mother?"
"The boys ha' been and adone all sorts of mischief, sir,"
shortly answered Susan, appearing on the stairs, and
speaking in the same key ; "whilst I opened the door to the
strange gentleman, one ate the tart, and the other the
pigeon, that was for missus's dinner. They're worse than
cats, them boys—they are I"
Mr. Ford had a pimple on his forehead, which he always
scratched in cases of difficulty. He now recurred to it with
a look more perplexed than indignant.
"I am afraid the poor fellows are often hungry," sighed
Mr. Ford
; lOU must get something. else, Susan."
"Itold missus the cat had done it. God forgive me all
the stories Ido tell in this house. And she zaid, 'never
mind.' "
" Well, that is all right ; is it not ?"
it Why, no, sir, it ain't. The cat made me bring in
Mary Ann, and what do you think missus is up to now ?
Why, she wants Mary Ann upstairs."
Now Mary Ann was a fiction, the myth of the household,
and this was a most inconvenient wish, as Mr. Ford's
lengthened face expressed.
"I put it off, saying Mary Ann was ill in bed," pursued
Susan; "but that is not all, missus wishes for fruit. Now,
sir, Covent-garden is not far off: but I put it to you, air,
can I get cherries at this time of the year ?"
" Perhaps het• house grapes would do," suggested Mr.
Ford, looking deeply perplexed.
" Perhaps they will," doubtfully said Susan ; " and per-
haps tilt), will not; but that ain't all. Missus wants an
organ."
6 6 A harmonium, you mean ; well—perhaps I can get one
on hire."
But when Mr. Ford looked round his wretched home,
when he remembered his debts and his downhill name, he
wondered who would be so foolhardy as to trust him with
an instrument.
"Perhaps an accordion would do," said Susan, looking
sagacious; "organs are only fit for churches."
But Mr. Ford shook his head. His wife had been an ac-
complished musician, and none but a first-rate instrument
would answer her.
" God help me I" he exclaimed, distractedly ; " it will be
all out if she does not get that harmonium, and it will
break her heart, Susan, it will break her heart, not for
herself, bat for the boys and me,"
Tears stood in his eyes, and Susan looked sorely troubled,
but the accordion had exhausted her short stores of com-
fort.
" Well," said Mr. Ford, with a deep sigh, " I must put
her cff for a while ; and say lam promised one. Tell the
boys to dress, and come to me, Susan, and then I'll see."

"I am afraid Captain George's loud knock disturbed
you," said Mr, Ford ; but it was Susan who opened-----"
"And why did Susan open ?" interrupted Mrs. Ford :
" Susan is to wait upon me. I must insist on Mary Ann
attending to the door."
Mr. Ford scratched his pimple, but hit on a bright in-
vention.
" Mary Ann was in the dumps," he said, gravely ; I gave
her warning this morning—that girl is getting unmanage-
able,"
And so she was ; and Mr. Ford, whom the practice of
seven years had not yet made perfect in the art of invention,
had resolved to get rid of this troublesome person altogether.
Mrs. Ford shut her eyes again, and sighed ; another man
would have had a footman by this ; but no—thanks to his
folly and imprudence, Mr. Ford would live and die with
two female servants.
" Mr. Ford," she said, gravely, " do as you please about
Mary Ann ; keep or dismiss her—what is it to me ? but do
not take Susan from me. She has enough to do in attend-
ing to me."
" Certainly, my love, by all means."
"As to that Mary Ann, I am glad she is going. I am
tired of hearing about her misdeeds."
" And she shall go," emphatically replied Mr. Ford.
" Take a first-rate servant-instead," pursued his wife ;
" give her twenty, thirty pounds a year if need be—a little
money morn or less is not much matter."

"Of course not."
"And, Mr. Ford, get mean harmonium, if you please.
I cannot talk, and yet the silence ot these rooms is too
much for me."
"Certainly, my love. I really do believe you are getting
better," cried Mr. Ford, ardently.
As may be expected, Mrs. Ford is getting better,
when the unexpected and unwelcome arrival of Mab
arouses alike her mental indignation and her physi-
cal strepgtli. Mab's arrival, and its bewildering
particulars, affecting as they do the " secret" of
the story, we shall not touch upon here. We
cannot but think that the plot, although admirably
contrived, is too much lengthened out in detail.
The interest Should have been more concentrated,
but we forget that as we advance. We can only
feel sympathy for the heart-trials of the poor forlorn
lovelorn koroine, As we have already said, lgtss

Kavanagh's tales are chiefly attractive as revela-
tions of intense feeling, and "Queen Mab" is one
of the best of that class that she has yet given us.

Mr. Harrison Ainsworth's New Novel.
John Law : the Projector. By William Harrison
Ainsworth. Prologue, Chaps. 1.--V. Bentley's
Miscellany for November.

Pleasant news for the lovers of romance! To wit
that in what was originally Boz's Monthly
bantling, what is still, though Boz has long ceased to
have anything to do with it, one of the liveliest of
our popular periodicals, Bentley's Miscellany, there
is begun an entirely new and original story—a story
of comparatively modern times, founded upon his-
torical data, and carrying us back to the begining
of the last century, a new romantic narrative of
mingled fact and fiction, by the author of " Jack
Shepherd." Our only regret is that this new story
is not to be illustrated, like so many of its former
predecessors. A happier notion in the selection of
his hero, eren Mr. Ainsworth has never yet
had. And in the choice of his themes—as
we ourselves in these columns have more than once
had occasion to remark—the Romancist ot Rook-
wood is always peculiarly fortunate. Instance this
—"The Admirable Crichton!" Instance this,
again, "Dick Turpin," the famous Highwaymen !
Instance, " Jack Sheppard," the notorious house-
breaker, afterwards renowned (may we say, a trifle
more creditably ?) in our criminal annals as the
wonderful Prison-Breaker ! Instance, " Old St.
Paul's," that tale of the Great Fire and the
Great Plague of London ! Besides all which,
who is there among Mr. Ainsworth's readers
who bears not still in vivid recollection, the
atmosphere of romance with which his pictu-
resque imagination has enveloped so many
other of our grand old public buildings—yet sur-
viving amongst us--as is not the case in regard to the
one already mentioned, namely, that swept down
amidst the crashing ruins of the Great Fire, Old
St. Paul's Cathedral. Palaces, for example, dating
far back in our annals, such as the " Tower of Lon-
don," "Windsor Castle," " St. James's," and so
forth—tales so exquisitely embellished by the mar-
vellous etching needle of rare George Cruikshank!
Here, again, is as capital a subject in its way as
any Mr. Ainsworth has hitherto hit upon—the
wonderful life and adventures of the most extraor-
dinary financial schemer upon record, John Law,
" the Projector," as our novelist calls him—the most
audacious blower of bubbles that ever breathed the
breath of life. The story, in its mere name, promises
delightfully. And the five chapters of the Prologue
already encourage this happy augury of success.
Here is our romancist's vivid portraiture of his hand-
some hero—