Observe that lean wretch, how dejected he looks, The while these fat Justices pore o'er their books.—
“Hem, hem,—this here fellow our fortunes would tell,—
He thence at the treading-mill must have a spell:
He lives by credulity!”—Most people do,—
Even you on the bench there,—ay, you Sir, and you!
Release then the Confrer at Equity's call,
Or otherwise build treading-mills for us all!
[317] Adverting to the trick recently and successfully practised on Sir Felix O'Grady, by a juvenile adept in fraud, obtaining from the Baronet a new suit of clothes; his servant, indignant at his master having been thus plundered with impunity, had, for several days, been meditating in what manner most effectually to manouvre, so as to recover the lost property, and retrieve the honor of Munster, which he considered tarnished by his master having been duped by a stripling; when one morning a hand-bill was found in the area, intimating the residence in Town, pro bono publico, of a celebrated professor of the Occult Sciences; to whom was given the sublime art of divination, and who, by astrological and intuitive knowledge, would discover lost or stolen property, with infallible precision. Thady, whose credulity was of no inferior order, elate with the idea of consummating his wishes, communicated to his master the happy opportunity, and was permitted to seek the counsel of the celestial augurer. Not that the Baronet entertained any belief of its proving available of discovery, but rather with the view of introducing to his friends, Dashall and Tallyho, a fresh source of amusement, as connected with their diurnal investigation of Real Life in London.
Thither then, Thady repaired, and consulting the Seer, was astonished by responses which implied the most profound knowledge of times past, present, and to come! The simplicity of Thady had not escaped the Astrologer's [318] notice, who, by dint of manouvre having contrived to draw from the Munster man, unwittingly, the requisite intelligence, merely echoed back the information thus received, to the utter amazement of Thady, who concluded that the Doctor must have intercourse with the Devil, and thence that he merited implicit veneration and belief. The sage predictor having received the customary douceur, now dismissed his credulous visitant, saying that the planets must be propitiated, and desiring him to come again at the expiration of twenty-four hours, when he would receive further intelligence.
Tom and his Cousin having called at the lodging of Sir Felix during the time that Thady was out on his expedition of discovery, the Baronet apprized his friends of the amusement in reserve; and they agreed to visit this expounder of destinies on the servant's return.
Thady at last arrived, and having reiterated his belief that this marvellous conjurer was the devil's own relative, the party set out to ascertain by what means they could prove the truth of the affinity between his infernal majesty and the sage descendant of the Magi.
Gaining the sublunary domicile of this mystical unraveller, which for the greater facility of communication with the stars he had fixed in the loftiest apartment of the house, our trio knocked at the door, which, after some hesitation, was opened by an ancient Sybil, who was presently joined by her counterpart, both “so withered and so wild in their attire,” that “they looked not like inhabitants o' th' earth, and yet were on it.” On the party requiring to see the Doctor, the two hags explained in a breath that the Doctor received only one visitor at a time; and while one gentleman went up stairs, the other two must remain below; and this arrangement being acquiesced in, Tom and Bob were shewn into a mean looking room on the ground floor, and Sir Felix followed the ascent of his conductor to the attic.
Entering the presence chamber,—“Welcome, sphinx,” exclaimed the Doctor.
“By the powers,” said the Baronet, “but you are right to a letter; the Sphinx is a monster-man, and I, sure enough, am a Munster-man.”
“I know it.—What would'st thou, Sir Felix O'Grady?”
[319] The Baronet felt surprised by this familiar recognition of his person, and replied by observing, that as the inquirer so well knew his name, he might also be acquainted with the nature of his business.
“I partly guess it,” rejoined the Seer, “and although I cannot absolutely predict restitution of thy lost property, yet I foresee that accident will throw the depredator in thy way, when the suit may perhaps find its way back to thy wardrobe. Now, hence to thy business, and I to mine.”
The Baronet having nothing further to ask, withdrew accordingly; and our Squire of Belville-hall was next ushered into the sanctum sanctorum.
Bob was at a loss what to say, not having prepared himself with any reasonable pretext of inquiry. A silence of a few moments was the consequence, and the Squire having first reconnoitred the person of the conjurer, who was arrayed in the appropriate costume of his profession, scrutinized the apartment, when the attention of the visitor and visited being again drawn to each other, the Soothsayer addressed himself to Tallyho in the following words:
The shadows of joy shall the mind appal,
And the death-light dimly flit round the hall
Of him, by base lucre who led astray,
Shall age into fruitless minion betray!
 
The death-light shall glimmer in Belville-hall,
And childless the lord of the mansion fall;
A wife when he weds, vain, ugly, and old,
Though charms she brings forty thousand in gold!
The Squire was not prone to anger; but that this fellow should interfere with his private concerns, and impute to him the intention of forming a most preposterous connexion, under the influence of avarice, roused him into a whirlwind of passion.—“Rascal!” he exclaimed, “who take upon you to predict the fate of others, are you aware of your own! Vagabond! imposter! here I grasp you, nor will I quit my hold until I surrender you into the hands of justice!” And “suiting the action to the word,” he seized and shook the unfortunate Seer, to the manifest discomposure of his bones, who loudly and lamentably cried out for assistance. Alarmed by the clamour, Dashall and the Baronet rushed up stairs, to whom the Squire stated the aggravation [320] received, and at the same time his determination to bring the cheat to punishment. The trembling culprit sued for mercy, conscious that he was amenable to correction as a rogue and vagabond, and if convicted as such, would probably be sent to expiate his offence in the Treading-Mill at Brixton, a place of atonement for transgression, which of all others he dreaded the most.{1}
1 union-Hall.—Hannah Totnkins, a miserable woman of the
town, was brought before R. G. Chambers, Esq. charged with
having robbed another of the unfortunate class of her
clothes. It appeared, that the prisoner had been liberated
from Brixton prison on Friday-last, after a confinement of
three weeks; and that on coming out she was met by the
complainant, Catherine Flynn, by whom she was taken to a
comfortable lodging, supplied with necessaries, and treated
with great kindness. The prisoner acted with propriety until
Monday night, during which she remained out in the streets.
On Tuesday morning, at four o'clock, she came home drenched
with rain. The complainant desired her either to go to bed,
or to light a fire and dry her clothes. The prisoner did
neither, and the complainant went to sleep. At about seven
the latter awoke, and missed her gown, petticoat, and
bonnet. The prisoner was also missing. The complainant
learned that her clothes were at a pawnbroker's shop, where
they had been left a short time before by the prisoner.
Hall, the officer, having heard of the robbery, went in
quest of the prisoner, and found her in a gin-shop in
Blackman-street, in a state of intoxication. He brought her
before the magistrates in this condition. Her hair was
hanging about her face, which was swelled and discoloured by
the hardship of the preceding night. She did not deny that
she had stolen the clothes of her poor benefactress, but she
pleaded in her excuse, that the condition of her body, from
the rain of Monday night, was such, that nothing but gin
could have saved her life, and the only way she had of
getting that medicine, was by pledging Katty Flynn's
clothes. The magistrates asked the prisoner whether she had
not got enough of the treading-mill at Brixton. The prisoner
begged for mercy's sake not to be sent to the treading-mill.
She would prefer transportation; for it was much more
honourable to go over the water, than to be sent as a rogue
and vagabond to Brixton. She was sent back to prison. It is
a remarkable fact, that since the famous Treading-Mill has
been erected at Brixton, the business of this office has
greatly declined. The mill is so constructed, that when a
man ventures to be idle in it, he receives a knock on the
head from a piece OF WOOD, which is put there to give them
notice of what they ere to do!!!
[321] The two ancient Sybils from the lower regions having now ascended the scene of confusion, united their voices with that of the astrologer, and Dashall and Sir Felix also interceding in his behalf, the Squire yielded to the general entreaty, and promised the soothsayer forgiveness, on condition that he disclosed the source whence he derived information as to the Baronet's family concerns. The soothsayer confessed, that he had elicited intelligence from the servant, who in his simplicity had revealed so much of his master's affairs, as to enable him (the conjurer) to sustain his reputation even with Sir Felix himself, whom from description he recognized on his first entrance, and by the same means, and with equal ease, identified the person of the Squire of Belville-hall. He added besides, that he had frequently, by similar stratagem, acquired intelligence; that chance had more than once favoured him, by verifying his predictions, and thus both his fame and finances had obtained aggrandisement. He now promised to relinquish celestial for sublunary pursuits, and depend for subsistence rather on the exercise of honest industry than on public credulity.
Thus far had matters proceeded, when the Baronet's servant Thady was announced. The triumvirate anticipating some extraordinary occurrence, desired the soothsayer to resume his functions, and give the valet immediate audience, while they retired into another apartment to wait the result. In a few minutes the servant was dismissed, and the party readmitted.
“Chance,” said the augurer, “has again befriended me. I told you, Sir Felix, that the depredator would be thrown in your way: my prediction is realized; he has been accidentally encountered by your servant, and is now in safe custody.”
On this information our party turned homewards, first leaving the astrologer a pecuniary stimulation to projected amendment of life.
“There seems nothing of inherent vileness,” said the Squire, as they walked onwards, “in this man's principles; he may have been driven by distress to his present pursuits; and I feel happy that I did not consign the poor devil to the merciless fangs of the law, as, in the moment of irritation, I had intended.”
“By my conscience,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “I cannot discover that he ought to be punished at all. He has been picking up a scanty living by preying on public credulity; and from the same source thousands in this metropolis derive affluent incomes, and with patronage and impunity.”
[322] “And,” added Dashall, “in cases of minor offence a well-timed clemency is frequently, both in policy and humanity, preferable to relentless severity."{1}
1 As a contrast to these exemplary feelings, and in
illustration of Real Life in London, as it regards a total
absence of sympathy and gentlemanly conduct, in one of a
respectable class in society, we present our readers with
the following detail:—
 
Hatton Garden. On Saturday sennight, Robert Powell was
brought before the magistrates, charged with being a rogue,
vagabond, and imposter, and obtaining money under
fraudulent pretences, from one Thomas Barnes, a footman in
the service of Surgeon Blair, of Great Russell-street,
Bloomsbury, and taking from him 2s. 6d. under pretence of
telling him the destinies of a female fellow-servant, by
means of his skill in astrological divina-tion. The nature
of the offence, and the pious frond by which the disciple of
Zoroaster was caught in the midst of his sorceries, were
briefly as follow:—This descendant of the Magi, born to
illumine the world by promulgating the will of the stars,
had of course no wish to conceal his residence; on the
contrary, he resolved to announce his qualification in the
form of a printed handbill, and to distribute the manifesto
for the information of the world. One of these bills was
dropped down the area of Mr. Blair's house; it was found by
his footman, and laid on the breakfast-table, with the
newspaper of the morning, as a morceau of novelty, for his
amusement. Mr. Blair concerted with some of the agents of
the Society for the Suppression of Vice, a stratagem to
entrap the Sidéral Professor; in the furtherance of which he
dictated to his footman a letter to the Seer, expressive of
a wish to know the future destinies of his fellow-servant,
the cook-maid, and what sort of a husband the constellations
had, in their benign influence, assigned her. With this
letter the footman set out for No. 5, Sutton-street, Soho,
where he found the Seer had, for the convenience of prompt
intercourse, chosen his habitation as near the stars as the
roof of the mansion would admit. Here the footman announced
the object of his embassy, delivered his credentials, and
was told by the Seer, that “lie could certainly give him an
answer now, 'by word of mouth,' but if he would call next
day, he should be better prepared, as, in the meantime, he
could consult the stars, and have for him a written answer.”
 The footman retired, and returned next morning, received the
written response, gave to the Seer the usual donation of 2s.
6d. previously marked, which sum he figured upon the answer,
and the receipt of which the unsuspecting Sage acknowledged
by his signature. With this proof of his diligence, he
returned to his master, and was further to state the matter
to the magistrates. A vigilant officer was therefore sent
after the prophet, whom he found absorbed in profound
cogitation, casting the nativities of two plump damsels,
and consulting the dispositions of the stars as to the
disposition of the lasses; but the unrelenting officer
entered, and proceeded to fulfil his mission. On searching
the unfortunate Sage, the identical half-crown paid him by
Barnes was found, with two others in his pocket, where such
coins had long been strangers; and the cabalistical chattels
of his profession accompanied him as the lawful spoil of the
captor. The magistrate, before whom he had been convicted on
a former occasion of a similar offence, observed that it was
highly reprehensible for a man who possessed abilities,
which by honest exertion might procure him a creditable
livelihood, thus to degrade himself by a life of imposture
and fraud upon the ignorant and unwary. The wretched
prisoner, who stood motionless and self-convicted, exhibited
a picture of wretchedness from whicli the genius of
Praxiteles would not have disdained to sketch the statue of
Ill Luck. Never did soothsayer seem less a favourite of the
Fates! Aged, tall, meagre, ragged, filthy and care-worn, his
squalid looks depicted want and sorrow. Every line of his
countenance seemed a furrow of grief; and his eyes gushing
with tears, in faint and trembling accents he addressed the
Court. He acknowledged the truth of the charge, but said,
that nothing but the miseries of a wretched family could
have driven him to such a line of life. If he had been able,
he would gladly have swept the streets; but he was too
feeble so to do; he had tried every thing in his power, but
in vain,—
 
“He could not dig, to beg he was ashamed;”
 
and even if begging, either by private solicitation or
openly in the streets, could promise him a casual resource
in the charity of the passing crowd, he was afraid he should
thereby incur prosecution as a rogue and vagabond, and be
imprisoned in Bridewell. Parish settlement he has none; and
what was to be done for a wretched wife and three famishing
children? He had no choice between famine, theft, or
imposture. His miserable wife, he feared, was even now
roaming and raving through the streets, her disorder
aggravated by his misfortunes; and his wretched children
without raiment or food. To him death would be a welcome
relief from a life of misery, tolerable only in the hope of
being able to afford, by some means, a wretched subsistence
to his family.
 
The magistrates, obviously affected by this scene, said that
they felt themselves obliged to commit the prisoner, as he
had not only been repeatedly warned of the consequences of
his way of life, but was once before convicted of a similar
offence. He was therefore committed for trial.
 
Does Surgeon Blair, who obtains his twenty guineas a day,
and lives in affluence, think by such conduct as the present
to merit the esteem of the world, by thus hunting into the
toils of justice such miserable objects? If he does, though
we cannot respect him or his associates for their humanity,
we may undoubtedly pity them for their ignorance and
superstition.
[324] On the arrival of the party at the lodgings of Sir Felix, they learned from the servant, that the latter having met the young swindler in the streets, Thady recognized and secured him; and he was now at the disposal of the Baronet, if he chose to proceed against him.
The sprig of iniquity, when made forthcoming, did not deny the accuracy of the charge, neither did he offer any thing in exculpation. It was with much difficulty, however, and under the threat of his being immediately surrendered to justice, that he would disclose the name of his father, who proved to be a respectable tradesman residing in the neighbourhood. The unfortunate parent was sent for, and his son's situation made known to him. The afflicted man earnestly beseeched, that his son might not be prosecuted; he was not aware, he said, that the lad was habitually vicious; this probably was his only deviation from honesty; he, the father, would make every reparation required; but exposure would entail upon his family irretrievable ruin. It was elicited from the boy, amid tears and sobs of apparent contrition, that the articles of apparel were in pledge for a small sum; redemption, and every other possible atonement, was instantly proposed by the father: Sir Felix hesitated, was he justifiable, he asked, in yielding to his own wishes, by foregoing prosecution?—“The attribute of mercy,” said Dashall, “is still in your power.”—“Then,” responded the Baronet, “I shall avail myself of the privilege. Sir, (to the father), your boy is at liberty!” The now relieved parent expressed, in the most energetic manner, his gratitude, and retired. The prediction of the Seer was fully verified, for in the course of the evening the stray suit found its way back to the wardrobe of its rightful owner.
This business happily concluded, and the day not much beyond its meridian, the three friends again sallied forth in the direction of Bond-street, towards Piccadilly. As usual, the loungers were superabundant, and ridiculous. Paired together, and swerving continually from the direct line, it required some skilful manouvring to pass them. Our friends had surmounted several such impediments, when a new obstruction to their progress presented itself. A party of Exquisites had linked themselves together, and occupied the entire pavement, so that it was impossible to precede them without getting into the carriage-way, thus greatly obstructing and inconveniencing all other passengers. Lounging at a funeral pace, and leaving not the smallest opening, it was evident that [325] these effeminate animals had purposely united themselves for public annoyance. Sir Felix, irritated by this palpable outrage on decorum, stepped forward, with hasty determined stride, and coming unexpectedly and irresistibly in contact, broke at once the concatenated barrier, to the great amusement as well as accommodation of the lookers-on, and total discomfiture of the Exquisites, who observing the resolute mien and robust form of their assailant, not forgetting a formidable piece of timber, alias “sprig of shillaleagh,” which he bore in his hand, prudently consulted their safety, and forebore resentment of the interruption.{1}
1 If in walking the streets of London, the passenger kept
the right hand side, it would prevent the frequent
recurrence of much jostling and confusion. The laws of the
road are observed on the carriage-way in the metropolis most
minutely, else the street would be in a continual blockade.
But
 ............