The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1841-02-02 00:00:00

A. COINERS' DEN.—The coiners were at their work. A
man, seated on a stool before a desk, was entering accounts
in a large book. The man was William Gawtrey. While,
with the rapid precision of honest mechanics, the machinery
of the dark trade went on in its several departments. Apart
—alone—at the foot of a long table, sat Philip Morton. The
truth had exceeded his darkest suspicions. He had con-
sented to take the oath not to divulge what was to be given
in his survey ; and, when led into the vault, the bandage was
taken from his eyes, it was some minutes before he could
fully comprehend the desperate and criminal occupations of
the wild forms amidst which towered the burly stature of his
benefactor. As the truth slowly grew upon him, he shrunk
from the side of Gawtrey ; but, deep compassion for his
friend's degradation swallowing up the horror of the trade,
he flung himself on one of the rude scats, and felt that the
bond between them was indeed broken, and that the next
morning he should be again alone in the world. Still, as the
obscene jests, the fearful oaths, that from time to time rang
through the vault, came on his ear, lie cast his haughty eye
in such disdain over the groups, that, Gawtrey observing him,
trembled for his safety ; and nothing but the sense of his own
impotence, and the brave, not timorous, desire not to perish
by such hands, kept silent the fiery denunciations of a na-
ture, still proud and honest, that quivered on his lips. All
present, were armed with pistols and cutlasses except Morton,
who suffered the weapons presented to him to lie unheeded
on the table. " Courage, mes amis !" said Gawtrey, closing
the book,—" Courage !—a few months more, and we shall
have made enough to retire upon, and enjoy ourselves for the
rest of our days. Where is Birnie ?" Did he not tell
you?" said one of the artisans looking up. "He has found
out the cleverest band in France,—the very fellow who helped
Buchard in all his five-franc pieces. He has promised to
bring him to-night." " Ay, I remember," returned Gaw-
trey, " he told me this morning,—he is a famous decoy?"
" I think so, indeed !" quoth a coiner ; " for he caught you,
the best head to our hands that ever les industriels were
blessed with—sacr6 fichtre !" " Flatterer !" said Gawtrey,
coming from the desk to the table, and pouring out wine
from one of the bottles into a huge flagon—" Here's to your
healths !" Here the door slided back, and Birnie glided in.
" Where is your booty, mon brave ?" said Gawtrey. "We
only coin money ; you coin men, stamp with your own seal,
and send them current to the devil !" The coiners, who
liked Birnie's ability (for the cidevant engraver was of ad-
mirable skill in their craft), but who hated his joyless man-
ners, laughed at this taunt, which Birnie did not seem to
heed, except by a malignant gleam of his dead eye. "If you
mean the celebrated coiner, Jacques Giraumont, he waits
without. You know our rules—l cannot admit him without
leave." " Bon ! we give it,—eb, messieurs ?" said Gawtrey.
" Ay—ay," cried several voices. "He knows the oath, and
will fear the penalty." " Yes, he knows the oath," replied
Birnie, and glide back. In a moment more he returned with
a small man in a mechanic's rouse. The new-comer wore
the republican beard and mustache,=of a sandy grey—his
hair was of the same colour; and a black patch over the eye
increased the ill-favoured appearance of his features.—Night
and Morning: a new Novel, by Sir E. L. Bulwer.