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guardians of his royal revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world, to seek elsewhere for that repose and peace which a custom-house can never afford. Some time before his death, he became the father, gentlemen, of a little boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Goswell Street; and here she placed in her front parlor-window a written placard, bearing this inscription : « Apartments furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire within." I entreat the attention of the jury to the wording of this document:-“ Apartments furnished for a single gentleman.

2. Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. She had no fear,-she had no distrust, she had no suspicion; all was confidence and reliance. “Mr. Bardell,” said the widow, “was a man of honor; Mr. Bardell was a man of his word; Mr. Bardell was no deceiver; Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself: to single gentlemen I look for protection, for assistance, for comfort, and for consolation; in single gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and untried affections. To a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let.”

3. Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse, (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen,) the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the bill up in her parlor-window. Did it remain there long? No. The serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mine was preparing, the sapper and miner was at work! Before the bill had been in the parlor-window three days,—three days, gentlemen, a being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house ! He inquired within; he took the lodgings; and on the very next day he entered into possession of them. This man was Pickwick,-Pickwick, the defendant.

4. Of this man Pickwick I will say little : the subject presents but few attractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness and systematic villainy. I say systematic villainy, gentlemen; and when I say systematic villainy, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if be be in court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in him, more becoming, in better judgment, and in better taste, if he had stopped away. Let me tell him, gentlemen, that any gestures of dissent or disapprobation, in which he may indulge in this court, will not go down with you; that you will know how to value and how to appreciate them; and let me tell him, further, that a counsel, in his discharge of his duty to his client, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the other, or the first or the last, will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff or be he defendant; be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson. ..

5. I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you, that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and prepared it for wear when it came home; and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you, that, on many occasions, he gave half-pence, and on some occasions even sixpences, to her little boy; and I shall prove to you, by a witness whose testimony it will be impossible for my learned friend to weaken or controvert, that on one occasion he patted the boy on the head, and, after inquiring whether he had won any alley-tors or commoneys lately, (both of which I understand to be species of marbles much prized by the youth of this town,) made use of this remarkable expression :-"How would you like to have another father ?” I shall prove to you further, gentlemen, that, about a year ago, Pickwick suddenly began to absent himself from home during long intervals, as if with the intention of gradually breaking off from my client; but I shall show you, also, that his resolution was not at that time sufficiently strong, or that his better feelings conquered,-if better feelings he has,

or that the charms and accomplishments of my client prevailed over his unmanly intentions, by proving to you that on one occasion, when he returned from the country, he distinctly and in terms offered her marriage,-previously, however, taking special care that there should be no witnesses to their solemn contract.

6. And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed between these parties,-letters which are admitted to be in the handwriting of the defendant, and which speak volumes indeed. These letters, too, bespeak the character of the man. They are not open, fervid, eloquent epistles, breathing nothing but the language of affectionate attachment. They are covert, bly, underhanded communications; but, fortunately, far more con clusive than if couched in the most glowing language and the most poctic imagery, -letters that must be viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye, -letters that were evidently intended at the

time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any third parties inte whose hands they might fall. Let me read the first :-“Garraway's, twelve o'clock.—Dear Mrs. B.-Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick.” Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and tomato sauce! Yours, Pickwick! Chops! Gracious heavens! and tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such shallow artifices as these?

7. The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspi. cious :-“Dear Mrs. B.-I shall not be at home to-morrow. Slow coach.” And then follows this very remarkable expression :“Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan!” The warmingpan! Why, gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan? When was the peace of mind of man or woman broken or disturbed about a warming-pan, which is in itself a harmless, a useful, and I will add, gentlemen, a comforting, article of domestic furniture? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire,-a mere substitute for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to some preconcerted system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated desertion.

8. And what does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I know, it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has most unquestionably been a criminally slow coach during the whole of this transaction, but whose speed will now be very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose wheels, gentlemen, as he will find to his cost, will very soon be greased by you! But enough of this, gentlemen. It is difficult to smile with an aching heart; it is ill jesting when our deepest sympathies are awakened. My client's hopes and prospects are ruined ; and it is no figure of speech to say that her occupation is gone indeed. The bill is down;—but there is no tenant! Eligible single gentlemen pass and repass;—but there is no invitation for them to inquire within, or without! All is gloom and silence in the house : even the voice of the child is hushed; his infant sports are disregarded when his mother weeps; his "alley-tors," and his commoneys," are alike neglected; he forgets the long-familiar cry of “knuckledown,” and at tip-chesse, or odd-and-even, his hand is out.

9. But Pickwick, gentlemen, Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis in Goswell Street, Pickwick, who has choked up the well, and thrown ashes on the sward,-Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with his heartless tomato sauce and warming-pans,—Pickwick still rears his head with unblushing effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin he has made. Damages, gentlemen,-heavy damages, --is the only punishment

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with which you can visit him; the only recompense you can award to my client. And for those damages she now appeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, a right-feeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympathizing, a contemplative jury of her civil ized countrymen.

LESSON CLXVII.
RIENZI TO THE ROMANS.

BY MARY RUSSELL MITFORD.

FRIENDS,
I come not here to talk. You know too well
The story of our thralldom. We are slaves !
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam
Falls on a slave; not such as swept along
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads
To crimson glory and undying fame,
But base, ignoble slaves! slaves to a horde
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots ! lords
Rich in some dozen paltry villages,
Strong in some hundred spearmen,-only great
In that strange spell,-a name.

Each hour, dark fraud,
Or open rapine, or protected murder,
Cries out against them. But this very day,
An honest man, my neighbor,—there he stands,-
Was struck,-struck like a dog, by one who wore
The badge of Ursini; because, forsooth,
He toss'd not high his ready cap in air,
Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts,
At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men,

And suffer such dishonor? Men, and wash not
· The stain away in blood ?

Such shames are common.
I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye,
I had a brother once,-a gracious boy,
Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope,
Of sweet and quiet joy,--there was the look
Of heaven upon his face which limners give

To the beloved disciple. How I loved
That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years,
Brother at once and son! He left my side,
A summer bloom on his fair cheek; a smile
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour
The pretty, harmless boy was slain !

. I saw
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried
For vengeance! Rouse ye, Romans! Rouse ye, slaves!
Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl
To see them die. Have ye fair daughters? Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distain'd,
Dishonor'd; and, if ye dare call for justice,
Be answer'd by the lash!

Yet this is Rome,
That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne
Of beauty ruled the world! Yet we are Romans !
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman
Was greater than a king! And once again,
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutus,-once again, I swear,
The eternal city shall be free!

LESSON CXLVIII.

ADAMS AND JEFFERSON.

BY EDWARD EVERETT. 1. No, fellow-citizens, we dismiss not Adams and Jefferson to the chambers of forgetfulness and death. What we admired, and prized, and venerated in them, can never die, nor, dying, be forgotten. I had almost said that they are now beginning to live ; to live that life of unimpaired influence, of unclouded fame, of unmingled happiness, for which their talents and services were destined.

2. They were of the select few, the least portion of whose life dwells in their physical existence; whose hearts have watched, while their senses slept; whose souls have grown up into a higher being; whose pleasure is to be useful; whose wealth is an unblemished reputation; who respire the breath of honorable fame; who have deliberately and consciously put what is called life to

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