The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-07-24 00:00:00

TWO MONTHS AFTER MARRIAGE.

(From "Oliver Twist" in Bentley's Miscellany for July.
Mr. Bumble sat in the workhouse parlour; with his eyes
moodily fixed on the cheerless grate, whence, as it was sum-
mer time, no brighter gleam proceeded than the reflection of
certain sickly rays of the sun, which were sent back from its
cold and shining surface. A paper fly-cage dangled from the
ceiling, to which he occasionally. raised his eyes in gloomy
thought; and, as the heedless insect hovered round the
guady net-work, Mr. Bumble would heave a deep sigh, while
a more gloomy shadow overspread his countenance. Mr.
Bumble was meditating, and it might be that the insects
brought to mind some painful passage in his own past life.
Nor was Mr. Bumble's gloom the only thing calculated to
awaken a pleasing melancholy in the bosom of a spectator.
There were not wanting other appearances, and those closely
connected with his own person, which announced that a great
change had taken place in the position of his affairs. The
laced coat and the cocked hat, where were they? He still
wore knee-breeches and dark cotton stockings on his nether
limbs, but they were not the breeches. The coat was wide-
skirted, and in that respect like the coat, but, ob, how diffe-
rent! The mighty cocked-bat was replaced by a modest
round one. Mr. Bumble was no longer a beadle.
There are some promotions in life which, independent of
the more substantial rewards they offer, acquire peculiar va-
lue and dignity, from the coats and waistcoats connected with.
him. A field-marshal has his uniform, a bishop his silk
apron, a counseller his silk gown, a beadle his cocked hat.
Strip the bishop of his apron, or the beadle of his cocked hat
and gold lace, what are they? Men,—mere men. Dignity,
and even holiness too, sometimes, are more questions of coat
and waistcoe, than some people imagine.
Mr. Bumble had married Mrs. Corney, and was master of
the workhouse. Another beadle had come into power, and
on him the cocked hat, gold-laced coat and staff, had all
three descended.
"And to-morrow two months it was done!" said Mr.
Bumble with a sigh. "It seems an age."
Mr. Bumble might have meant that he had concentrated
a whole existence of happiness into the short space of eight
weeks • but the sigh—there was a vast deal of meaning in
the sigh.
" I sold myself," said Mr. Bumble, pursuing the same train
of reflection, " for six tea-spoons, a pair of sugar tongs, and
a milk-pot, with a small quantity of second-hand furniture,
and twenty pound in money. I went very reasonable—
cheap, dirty cheap."
" Cheap !" cried a shrill voice in Mr. Bumble's ear: "You
would have been dear at any price; and dear enough I paid
for you, Lord above knows that."
Mr. Bumble turned and encountered the face of his inte-
resting consort, who, imperfectly comprehending the few
words she had overheard of his complaint, had hazarded the
foregoing remark at a venture.
" Mrs. Bumble, ma'am !" said Mr. Bumble, with senti-
mental sternness.

" Well," cried the lady.
" Have the goodness to look at me," said Mr. Bumble,
fixing his eyes upon her.
" If she stands such an eye as that," said Mr. Bumble to.
himself, "she can stand anything. It is an eye I never knew
to fail with paupers, and if it fails with her my power is gone."
Whether an exceedingly small expansion of eye is sufficient
to quell paupers, who, being lightly fed, are in no very high
condition, or whether the late Mrs. Corney was particularly
proof against eagle glances, are matters of opinion. The
matter of fact is, that the matron was in no way overpowered
by Mr. Bumble's scowl, but, on the contrary, treated it with
great disdain, and even raised a laugh thereat, which sound-
ed as though it were genuine.
On hearing this most unexpected sound, Mr. Bumble
looked first incredulous, and afterwards amazed. He then
relapsed into his former state; nor did he rouse himself until
his attention was again awakened by the voice of his partner.
"Are you going to sit. snoring there all day?" inquired
Mrs. Bumble.

" I am going to sit here as long as I think proper, ma'am,"
rejoined Mr. Bumble; " and although I was not snoring, I
shall snore, gape. sneeze, laugh, or cry, as the humour strikes
me, such being my prerogative."
Your prerogative!" sneered Mrs. Bumble, with ineffable
c!)1'

I said the word, ma'am," observed Mr. Bumble. " The
prerogative cif a man is to command."
" And what's the prerogative of a woman, in the name of
goodness? cried the relict of Mr. Corney deceased.
"To obey, ma'am," thundered Mr. Bumble. "Your late
unfortunate husband should have taught it you, and then,
perhaps, he might have been alive now. I wish he was, poor
man !"

Mrs. Bumble, seeing at a glance that the decisive moment
had now arrived, and that a blow struck for the mastership
ou one side or other must necessarily be final and conclusive,
no sooner heard this allusion to the dead and gone, than she
dropped into a chair, and, with aloud scream that Mr. Bum-
ble was a hard-hearted brute, fell into a. paroxysm of tears.
But tears were not the things to find their way to Mr.
Bumble's soul; his heart was water proof. Like wholesale
beaver hats, that improve with rain, his nerves were rendered
stouter and more vigorous by showers of tears, which, being
tokens of weakness, and so far tacit admissions of his own
power, pleased and exalted him. He eyed his good lady
with looks of great satisfaction, and begged, in an en-
couraging manner, that she would cry her hardest, tbe ex-
ercise being looked upon by the faculty as strongly con-
ducive to health.

" It opens the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises
the eyes, and softens down the temper," said Mr. Bumble;
" so cry away."
As he discharged himself of this pleasantry, Mr. Bumble
took his hat from a peg, and putting it rather rakishly on one
side, as a man might do who felt he had asserted his superi-
ority in a becoming manner, thrust his hands into his pockets,
and sauntered towards the door with much ease and waggish-
ness depicted in his whole appearance.
Now Mrs. Corner, that was, had tried the tears, because
they were less troublesome than a manual assault; but she
was quite prepared to make trial of the latter mode of pro-
ceeding, as Mr. Bumble was not long in discovering.
The first proof he experienced of the fact was conveyed in
a hollow sound, immediately succeeded by the sudden flying
off of his hat to the opposite end of the room. This prelimi-
nary proceeding laying bare his head, the expert lady, clasp-
ing him tight round the throat with one hand, inflicted a
shower of blows (dealt with singular vigour and dexterity)
upon it with the other. This done, she created a little vari-
ety by scratching his face and tearing his hair off, and hav-
ing by this time inflicted as much punishment as she deemed
necessary for the offence, she pushed him over a chair, which
was luckily well situated for the purpose, and defied him to
talk about his prerogative again if he dared.
" Get up," said Mrs. Bumble in a voice of command,
" and take yourself away from here, unless you want me to
do something desperate."
Mr. Bumble rose with a very rueful countenance. wonder-
ing much what something desperate might be, and picking
up his hat, looked towards the door.

" Are you going?" demanded Mrs. Bumble.
" Certainly, my dear, certainly," rejoined Mr. Bumble,
making a quicker motion towards the door. •' I didn't in-
tend to—l'm going, my dear—yon are so very violent, that
really I—"

At this instant Mrs. Bumble stepped hastily forward to
replace the carpet, which had been kicked up in the scuffle,
and Mr. Bumble immediately darted out of the room without
bestowing another thought on his unfinished sentence, leav-
ing the late Mrs. Corney in full possession of the field.
Mr. Bumble was fairly taken by surprise, and fairly beaten.
He had a decided bullying propensity, deriving no inconsi-
derable pleasure from the exercise of petty cruelty, and con-
sequently was (it is needless so say) a coward. This is by
no means a disparagement to his character; for many official
personages, who are held in high respect and admiration,
are the victims of similar infirmities. The remark is made,
indeed, rather in his favour than otherwise, and with the
view of impressing the reader with a just sense of his quali-
fications for office.

But the measure of his degradation was not yet full. After
making a tour of the house, and thinking for the first time that
the Poor Laws really were too hard upon people, and that
men who ran away from their wives, leaving them charge-
able to the parish, ought in justice to be visited with no pu-
nishment at all, but rather rewarded as meritorious individu-
als who had suffered much, Mr. Bumble came to a room where
some of the female paupers were usually employed in wash-
ing the parish linen, and whence the sound of voices in con-
versation now proceeded.
" Hem !" said Mr. Bumble, summoning up all his native
dignity. "'These women at least shall continue to respect
the prerogative. Hallo! hallo there I—what do you mean
by this noise, you hussies ?"
With these words Mr. Bumble opened the door and walked
in with a very fierce and angry manner, which was at once ex-
changed for a most humiliated and cowering air, as his eyes
unexpectedly rested on the form of his lady wile.
"My dear," said Mr. Bumble, " I didn't know you were
here."

" Didn't know I was here !" repeated Mrs. Bumble."
What do you do here ?"
"I thought they were talking rather too much to he doing
their work properly, my dear," replied Mr. Bumble, glancing
distractedly at a couple of old women at the wash-tub, who
were comprising notes of admiration at the workhouse nuts-
ter's humility.
"Ynu thought they were talking' too much ?" said Mrs.
Bumble. " What nusiness is it of ?"
" Why, my dear-" urged Mr. Bumble submissively.
"What business is it of yours?" demanded Mrs. Bumble

true you're matron here.
" but I thought. Sou mightn't Jt_,iu tue

ar,"

•
ust 7
"I'll tell you what, Mr. Bumble," returned his lady, " we
don't want any of your interference, and you're a great deal
too fond of poking your nose into things that don't concern
you, making everybody in the house laugh the moment your
back is turned, and making yourself look like a fool every
hour in the day. Be off; come!"
Mr. Bumble, seeing with excruciating feelings the delight
of the two old paupers who were tittering together most rap-
turously, hesitated for an instant. Mrs. Bumble, whose pa-
tience brooked no delay, caught up a bowl of soap-suds, and
motioning him towards the door, ordered hitt instantly to de-
palrvt,
hat pain oftrierc. .Beivuimngbie do? He looked contentslhe npot dejectedly hisupon
epcoterdtliyy dpreorusnon:
and slunk away ; and as he reached the door the tittering of
the paupers broke into a shrill chuckle of irrepressible de-
light. It wanted but this. He was degraded in their eves;
he had lost caste and station before the very paupers; he-had
fallen from all the height and pomp of headieship to the
lowest depth of the most snubbed ben-peckery.
"All in two months!" said Mr. Bumble, filled with dismal
thoughts. "Two months—not more than two months ago I
was not only my own master, but every body else's so
,far as
the parochial workhouse was concerned, and now ! '
It was too much. Mi. Brumble boxed the.ears of the boy
who opened the gate for him, (for he had reached the portal
in his reverie,) and walked distractedly into the street.
He walked tip one street and down another, until exercise
had abated the first passion of his gidef,,,-AnciAti.e..n.- Like
sion of feeling made biro thirsty. tie passed a great many
public-houses, anti at length paused before one in a bye-way,
whose parlour, as he gathered from a hasty peep over the
blinds, was deserted save by one solitary customer. It began
to rain heavily, at the moment, and this determined him;
Mr. Bumble stepped in, and ordering something to drink as
he passed the bar, entered the apartment into which he bad
looked from the street.

Thecian who was seated there was tall and dark, and wore
a large cloak. He had the air of a stranger, and seemed, by
a certain haggardness in his look, as well as by the dusty
soils on his dress, to have travelled some distance. He eyed
Bumble askance as he entered, but scarcely deigned to nod
his head in acknowledgment of his salutation.

Mr. Bumble had quite dignity enough for two, supposing
even that the stranger bad been more familiar, so be drank

his gin-and-water in silence, rnd read the paper with great
pomp and importance.
It so happened, however—as it will happen very often when
men fall into company under• such ciicumstances—that Mr.
Bumble felt every now and then a powerful inducement,
which he could not resist, to steal a look at the stranger, and
that whenever he did so,-he withdrew his eyes in. some con-
fusion., to find that the stranger was at that moment stealing
a look at him. Mr. Bumble's awkwardness was enhanced by
the very remarkable expression of the.stranger's eye, which
was keen and bright, but shadowed by a scowl of distrust and
suspicion unlike anything he had ever observed before, and
most repulsive to behold.
_ _ _

When. they had encountered each other's glance several
times in this way, the stranger, in a harsh, deep voice, broke
silence.

" Where you lool‘ing for me," he said, "when you peered
in at the window ?"
" Not that lam aware of, unless you're Mr. -." Here
Mr. Bumble stopped short, for he was curious to know the
stranger's name, and thought, in his impatience, he might
supply the blank.
I see you were not," said the stranger, an expression of
quiet sarcasm playing about his mouth, " or you would have
known my name. You don't know it, and I should recom-
mend you not to inquire:"
" I meant no harm, young man," observed Mr. Bumble
majestically.
" And have done none," said the stranger.
Another silence succeeded this short dialogue, which was
again broken by the stranger.
'" I have seen you before, I think," said he. " You were
differently dressed at that time, and I only passed you in the
street, but I should know you again. You were beadle here
once, were you not ?"
" I was," said Mr. Bumble. in some surprise. " ParocLial
beadle."

" Just so," rejoined the other, nodding his bead. "It was
in that character I saw you. What are you now ?"
"Master of the work itouse," rejoined Mr. Bumble slowly
and impressively, to check any undue familiarity the stranger
might otherwise assume. "Master of-the workhouse,. young
man !"

"You have the same eye to your own interests that you
always have had, I doubt not ?" resumed the stranger, look-.
ing keenly into Mr. Bumble's eyes as lie raised them in as-
tonishment at the question. "Don't scruple to answer
freely, man, I know you pretty well, you see."
"I suppose a married man," replied Mr Bumble, shading
his eyes with his hand, and surveying the stranger from head
to foot in evident perplexity, "is not more averse to turning
an honest penny when he can than a single one. Parochial
officers are not so well paid that they can afford to refuse any
little extra fee, when it comes to them in a civil and proper
manner."

The stranger smiled, and nodded his head again, as much
as to say he found he had not.mistaken hid ►nan ; then rang
the bell.

" Fill this glass again," he said, handing Mr. Bumble's
empty tumbler to the landlord. " Let it be strong and hot.
You like it so, I suppose ?"
" Not too strong," replied Mr. Bumble, with a delicate
cough.
" You underitand what that means, landlord !" said the
stranger drily.
The host smiled, disappeared, and shortly afterwards re-
turned with a steaming jorum, of which the first gulph brought
the water into Mr. Bumble's eyes.
" Now, listen to me," said the stranger, after closing the
door and window. " 1 came down to this place to-day to
find you out, and, by one of those chances which the devil
throws in the way of his friends sometimes, you walked into
the very room I was sitting in while you were uppermost in
my mind. I want some information from you, and dont' ask
you to give it for nothing, slight as it is. Put up that to
begin with."
As he spoke be pushed a couple of sovereigns across the
table to his companion carefully, as though unwilling that
.thc chinking of money should be heard without; and when
Mr. Bumble had scrupulously examined the coins to see that
they were genuine, and put them up with much satisfaction
in his waistcoat pocket, he went on.
"Carry your memory back—let me see—twelve years last
winter."

" It's a long time," said Mr. Bumble.
done it."
" The scene the Workhouse."
" Good !"
"And the time night."
" Yes."

"Very good. I've

" And the place the crazy hole, wherever it was, in which
miserable drabs brought forth the life and health so often de-
nied to themselves—gave birth to puling children for the
parish to rear, and hid their shame, rot 'em, in the grave."
"The lying-in room, I suppose that means?" said Mr.
Bumble, not quite following the stranger's excited descrip-
tion.

"Yes," said the stranger. "A boy was born there."
" A many boys," observed Mr. Bumble, shaking his head
despondingly.
" A murrain on the young devils I" cried the stranger im-
patiently; "1 speak of one, a meek-looking, pale-faced
hound, who was apprenticed, down here, to a coffin-maker,
(I wish he bad made his coffin, and screwed his body in it;)
and who afterwards ran away, to London, as it was sup-
posed."
" Why, you mean Oliver--young Twist ?" said Mr. Bum-
ble; " I rember him, of course. ['here wasn't a onstinater
.young rascal—
" It's nut of him I want to hear ; I've heard enough of
him," said the stranger, stopping Mr. Bumble in the very
outset of a tirade on the subject of poor Oliver's vices.—
"It's of a woman—the hag that nursed his mother. Where
is she?"

" Where is she?" said Mr. Bumble, whom the gin and
water had rendered facetious. "It would be hard to tell.
There's no midwifery there, whichever place she's gone to;
so I suppose she's out of employment any way."
" What do you mean ?" demanded the stranger, sternly.
• "That she died last winter," rejoined Mr. Bumble.

The man looked .fixedly at hint when he had given this
information, and although he did 'not. withdraw his eyes for
some time afterwards, his gaze gradually became vacant and
abstracted, and he seemed lost in thought.. For some time
he appeared doubtful whether he ought to be relieved or dis-
appointed by the intelligence, but at length he breathed
more freely, and withdrawing his eyes, observed that it was
no great matter, and rose as if to depart.
Mr Bumble was cunning enough, and he at once saw
that an opportunity was opened for the lucrative disposal of
some secret in the possession of his better half. He well
remembered the night of old Sally's death, which the occur-
rences of that day had given him good reason to recollect as
the occasion on which ire-had vroposed to Mrs. Carney; and
although that lady had sever confided to him the disclosure
of which she had °been the solitary witness, he had heard
enough to know that it related to something that had oc-

curred in the old woman's attendance as workhouse nurse,
upon the young mother of Oliver Twist. Hastily calling this
circumstance to mind, he informed the stranger, with an air
of mystery, that one woman had been closetted with the old
harridan shortly before she died, and that she could, as he bad
reason to believe, throw some light on the subject of his in-
quiry.
" How can I find her?" said the stranger, thrown off his
guard, and plainly showing that all his fears (whatever they
were) were aroused afresh by the intelligence.
"Only through me," rejoined Mr. Bumble.
"'When?" cried the stranger hastily.
" To.morrow," rejoined Bumble.

"At nine in the evening," said the stranger, producing a
scrap of paper, and writing down an obscure address, by the
water-side, upon it, in characters that betrayed his agitation,
"at nine in the evening, bring her to me there. I needn't
tell you to be secret, for it's your own interest."
With these words he led the way to the door, after stopping
to pay for the liquor that had been drunk; and shortly re-
marking that their roads were different, departed without
more ceremony than an emphatic repetition of the hour of
appointment for the following night.
On glancing at the address, the parochial functionary ob-
served that it contained no natre. The stranger had not
gone so far, so he made after him to ask it.
" Who's that ?" cried the man turning quickly round as
Bumble touched him on the arm; "following me."

"Only to ask a question," said the other, pointing to the
scrap of paper. " What name am Ito ask for?"
"MONKS !" rejoined the man, and strode hastily away.