varmint, is your thanks to me; to me, you scorpin, as has been better than a father to you! To me, who's taught you balladchanting, and everything as is decent you know; to me, as has laid awake in my bed thinkin' what I could do for you in the mornin'; to me, who's always looked on you as a rasher of my own flesh! And you 'll shake them little mawleys at me!" The picture of ingratitude was almost too much for Mr. Blast. He was nearly melted in his own tenderness.

"None o' that: that won't do for me, no how, " cried St. Giles. "You made me steal the pony-you sold it, and now—

The charge was too much for the indignant virtue of Mr. Blast. With an exclamation of disgust, he aimed a blow at his accuser, that but for his agility, would have laid him senseless on the floor. Bobbing his head and doubling himself up with wonderful elasticity, St. Giles escaped the meditated punishment, and the next moment saw him fastened on Tom: clasping him round the waist, and kicking with all his might and malice at his benefactor's shins. Tom, mad with pain and vexation, sought to fling the urchin off but he held to his prey like a stoat. For some moments the boy heroically suffered the worst punishment that his master in iniquity could inflict, returning it with unequal powers. At length, Blast unclasping the urchin's hold, seized him in his arms, and threw him violently off. The boy fell, stunned, against the wainscot. The infuriate savage-his passion raging was about to deal a blow-it would have been the lastupon the prostrate boy, when Capstick, Bright Jem; and a couple of officers burst into the room. Blast immediately divined their business, and with masterly coolness observed, pointing to St. Giles lying in the corner a senseless heap,-" There's your young oss. stealer for you and a nice job I've had to nibble him. A varmint of a pole-cat as he is.

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“The young un and the old un, too," said one of the officers. Why this is better luck than we bargained for."

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Jem lifted up the boy between his knees: he was still pale and senseless. "Mr. Capstick," said Jem, for God's sake, some water!" Then turning an indignant look upon Blast, he added, Why, what a paving-stone you must have for a heart, to use a poor child like this."

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"A child!" cried Blast, " a young devil!

"And if he is," said Jem, "who's made him one? Murder! why it's the worst of murders; to take and kill all the good in a

child's soul, and then to fling him into the world to do his worst, and answer for 't."

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There, there, never mind, Jem," cried Capstick, who was turning himself round, and shuffling about, visibly affected by the miserable condition of the child, yet struggling to maintain his outward misanthropy. "All wretches: all alike, worthless animals!" And then he roared at the waiter as he entered"Why don't you bring some water-some brandy-anything, everything for this poor creature this miserable-helplessforlorn-unhappy little boy?" And then Capstick turned his face in a corner, and violently blew his nose, and coughed, and vowed he never had such a cold in all his life.

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There, there, ," said one of the officers, as Jem bathed the boy's face, "he'll come round again, never fear."

Jem groaned, and shook his head. " Yes, he will come round," he said. "If it wasn't that blood would be on somebody's head, it would be a good thing, if he didn't. Lord! Lord!" cried Jem, "to think this is the babby's face I once knew."

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Pooh-pooh!-nonsense," said Capstick; "we've nothing to do with that; nothing at all. The ends of justice-the ends of justice, Mr. Aniseed "-and again the muffin-maker coughed;

he had such a cold.

However, whilst Jem-with his heart running at his eyes-is solacing young St. Giles, we will, as briefly as we may, inform the reader of the cause that has brought the muffin-maker and the liak-man to Smithfield.

Ever since the conclusion of our sixth chapter-which the urbanity of the reader will consider to be no less than six years ago fortune smiled upon Capstick. True it is, she often smiles upon the strangest lumps of men-is oft a very Titania enamoured with an ass's head-nevertheless, she showed good judgment in the favours she bestowed upon the muffin-maker. So fortune made interest with her good sister fame to play a flourish on her trumpet in praise of Capstick's muffins; that in time rejoiced many hearths without the circle of St. Giles's. In a word, Capstick soon built an enduring reputation upon muffins: and therefore had a better chance of his name going buttered down to posterity, than has the name of every monarch duly buttered in birthday ode. Well, the calls upon Capstick's oven were so increasing, that his wife suggested he should forthwith start a horse and very genteel cart. She, good woman! had no eye to a Sunday

drive-the vanity never entered her head: all she thought of was business she was a woman, and therefore had no wish to adulterate it with even a drop of pleasure. Mr. Capstick was somewhat twitted with himself that such proposal emanated from his wife : it was so good, so reasonable, it ought to have been his own. However, he would say, the woman had caught something like judgment by living with him. At once, then, Mr. Capstick consented to the vehicle; and that purchased a bargain, he took his way-in pestilent hour for him-to Smithfield, to buy a horse. Now, Mr. Capstick knew no more of the points of a horse than of a unicorn. As, however, he had little faith in human nature, and none whatever when mixed up with horse-flesh, he said to himself that he might as well be cheated at first hand as at second; therefore, went he alone to buy a steed. Arrived in the market, full soon was he singled out by a benevolent, yet withal discerning dealer, who could see in a twinkling the very sort of thing that would suit him. "A nice little cretur that would eat nothing, and go fifty miles a day upon it. In brief, the worthy man sold it to the muffin-maker, sold it to him for an old songto be sure, he could afford to let it go thus cheap-the black pony which only two days before had been the valued possession of Lord St. James. For four-and-twenty hours alone did the muffin-man rejoice in his purchase: for on his very first attempt to degrade the high-blooded animal to a cart-it was quite as fit to draw St. Paul's the creature, although its flowing tail and mane had been ruthlessly docked and cropped-was identified by Cesar Gum, on his way, with a sisterly message, to Short's Gardens. Never before had Mr. Capstick known the full value of a good character. His story of the transaction was received as truth; and though he lost the ten pounds - the value of the old song he had given for the animal, he maintained his untarnished reputation. Of course, St. Giles was soon known as the horse-stealer. It also came out, that Mr. Thomas Blast had been seen in very earnest conversation with the boy, as he led the pony. Every search was made for Tom; and as, with a modesty not usual to him, he seemed wholly to have withdrawn himself from his native parish, curiosity to learn his whereabout was the more quickened. Mr. Capstick felt his judgment, his pocket, too, somewhat involved in the transaction. He felt that he stood fair and upright in the eye of the world, nevertheless it would be to him a peculiar satisfaction could he detect Mr. Thomas Blast, or

the benevolent, simple-spoken tradesman who—for the price of an old song-had sold the pony. With this wish thumping at his heart, Capstick every day visited Smithfield and its neighbourhood; taking with him Bright Jem, whom he had accustomed himself to think an honest, worthy fellow, and his particular friend: that is, so far as the misanthropy of the muffin-maker would acknowledge the existence of such a treasure. It was strange, however, that Capstick-in his thoughts of revenge-had no thought of young St. Giles. No: all the vehemence of his wrath was roused against the boy's tutor.

We have now, we trust, sufficiently explained the course of accidents that brought the muffin-maker and Jem to Porterstreet, and so made them hearers of the unprofitable oratory of Tom Blast. Fearful that they might be recognised by him, they employed a third party to watch him to his haunt, whilst they secured the attendance of officers. Hence, they saw not St. Giles, who-as we have before observed--kept himself close among the mob. They were the more astonished to find the ill-used boy in the same room with his schoolmaster.

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There, now-he's all right," cried one of the officers, as St. Giles-restored by the efforts of Bright Jem-looked about him. However, no sooner was he conscious of the presence of Capstick and his fast friend Jem, than his face glowed like a coal. He hung down his head, and burst into tears: there was no sham whimpering-no taught effort of sorrow-but the boy's heart seemed touched, melted, and he wept and writhed convulsively. A recollection of the goodness-the disregarded kindness of the men before him—thrilled through his soul, and though he knew it not, he felt the yearnings of a better nature. There was anguish-penitence-in the sobs that seemed to tear his vitals. "Thank God for that!" cried Jem; and the poor fellow wept, "I like to hear that, eh, Mr. Capstick?"

too.

Mr. Capstick felt an odd queasiness in his throat, and could say nothing. He therefore again threw himself upon his pockethandkerchief. Then, conscious that he had a great duty to perform for the ends of justice—a fact, that when otherwise puzzled he had more than once insisted upon-he turned to the officers, and pointing his thumb towards Blast, observed with peculiar loftiness, You will be good enough to handcuff that man.” "Handcuff me!" cried Mr. Blast. 66 They'll do it at their peril."

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"Ha! my good man-I beg your pardon-you desperate scoundrel!" said Capstick with withering urbanity; "they're accustomed to do a great deal at their peril: thanks to such rascals as you. Handcuff him."

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They darn't do it-they darn't do it," shouted the struggling Blast: and in a moment afterwards his wrists were locked in iron. "I'll make you pay for this-never mind; it's no matter to me-but I'll make you pay for this," he said; and then, like a Tyburn philosopher, Tom became suddenly reconciled to his manacles.

We will not dwell upon the details of the examination of the prisoners. It will be sufficient for the reader to know that, after certain preliminaries, a sitting alderman committed St. Giles and his tutor for horse-stealing. Both scholar and master awaited their trial in Newgate.

It was not until after the culprit's first examination, that Capstick felt the full annoyance of his position. When Jem would shake his head, and look dumpish on the matter, Capstick would talk loud, and beg him to think of the ends of justice but when the boy was committed on the capital charge, the muffin-maker's public spirit wholly forsook him. Evidence had brought the accusa

:

tion quite home to the boy; however legal proof might fail to criminate his tempter. They'll never-never think of much hurting the boy—a child, you know—a mere child," said Capstick to Jem, as they left Guildhall together.

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Humph! I don't know what you call hurting, Mr. Capstick," said Jem, moodily. "But I shouldn't think hanging pleasant."

Capstick turned pale as flour, and he could scarcely articulate the words" Impossible-ridiculous-they couldn't do it."

"Ha!" cried Jem, "when hanging 's the thing, you don't know what they can do. Well, I 'd rather ha' been in bed, with a broken limb, than had a finger in this matter. I shall have that poor child always about me: I know I shall. When he's killed

and

gone, I shall never take my pipe without seeing his face in the fire. And then my poor old woman! She that still 's so fond of him-poor orphan thing! for his mother's worse than lost to him-she'll lead me a nice life-that is, though she won't say anything outright, she 'll always be a crying about him. We've done a nice thing, Mr. Capstick, to make our lives pleasant as long as they last!"