Wackles, Miss Jane. Youngest daughter of Mrs. Wackles, and instructor in the art of needlework, marking, and samplery, in the "Ladies' Seminary" presided over by her mother. viii. Wackles, Miss Melissa. Teacher of English grammar, composition, geography, and the use of the dumb-bells, in her mother's seminary for young ladies. She is the eldest daughter, and verges on the autumnal, having seen thirty-five summers, or thereabouts. viii. Wackles, Miss Sophy. A fresh, good-humored, buxom girl of twenty; Mrs. Wackles's second daughter, and teacher of writing, arithmetic, dancing, and general fascination in the "Ladies' Seminary." An unsuccessful attempt is made to inveigle Swiveller into a match with Miss Sophy. viii.

Wackles, Mrs. Proprietor of a very small day-school for young ladies, at Chelsea; an excellent but rather venomous old lady of threescore, who takes special charge of the corporal punishment, fasting, and other tortures and terrors of the establishment. viii. West, Dame. The grandmother of a favorite pupil of Mr. Marton's, the schoolmaster. XXV.

Whisker. A pony belonging to Mr. Garland, obstinate, independent, and freakish, but "a very good fellow, if you know how to manage him." xiv, xx, xxii, xxxviii, xl, lvii, lxi, lxv, lxviii, lxxiii.

See SWEET WILLIAM.

William, Sweet. Witherden, Mr. A notary; short, chubby, fresh-colored, brisk, and pompous. xiv, xx, xxxviii, xl, xli, lxi, lxiii, lxv, lxvi, lxxiii.

BARNABY RUDGE

OUTLINE

Chapter On the 19th of March, 1775, it being a cold and stormy I night, a little group of people were gathered in the Maypole Inn, on the borders of Epping Forest, about twelve miles from London. There were old John Willet, the innkeeper, Solomon Daisy, the sexton, a few other cronies, Joe Willet, old John's son, and two guests. Of the latter, one was Mr. Edward Chester, a handsome young man, who, having ridden down from London to see Miss Haredale, the niece of a country gentleman in the vicinity, was sadly disappointed to find that the young lady was away, and presently set off for London. The other was a morose, shabby, illlooking man, who sat apart from the others, with a big slouch hat drawn over his eyes. The fire burned cheerfully; the highly polished boiler reflected the blaze, and every member of the company was accommodated with a pipe and a glass of grog. Under these favoring circumstances Solomon Daisy related how, on that very day of the month, two and twenty years before, a double murder had occurred, at dead of night, in Mr. Haredale's house, called the Warren. His only brother, Reuben Haredale, was found dead in his room. The steward and gardener were both missing; but months afterward a body, supposed to be that of Rudge, the steward, was found at the bottom of a piece of water near by, with a deep gash in the breast where he had been stabbed with a knife. It was concluded, therefore, that the gardener was the guilty person.

II

This story being finished, the ill-looking stranger hastily rose, mounted his horse, struck Joe Willet roughly on the head with the butt end of his whip, and galloped away, through the mud and darkness, with such recklessness that he ran into the chaise of stout Gabriel Varden, the locksmith from London. But finding that his horse had not been hurt, he remounted and, with an oath, galloped away as furiously as before.

After this encounter Gabriel Varden thought it necessary to call at the Maypole to replace his lantern, which had become broken; and once there he could not resist the temptation to partake of the

III

good cheer. When at last the convivial company broke up, Joe Willet brought round the locksmith's horse, and confided to him his intention of running away to seek his fortune, rather than to endure any longer the humiliation of being treated like a child, as his father still considered him. "I am a by-word all over Chigwell," cried the unfortunate lad. Giving him some kindly advice, Gabriel, in a rather muzzy condition, set out for London. But hearing loud outcries as he neared the city, he turned aside from the road and found Barnaby Rudge waving a torch over his head, while at his feet lay the figure of a man who proved to be young Mr. Chester, stabbed and robbed by a highwayman. Barnaby was the son of the widow Rudge, as she was called, her husband having been Rudge, the steward, whose dead body—at least it was believed to be his-was found under the circumstances already related. Barnaby, born after that terrible event, was of a disordered intellect. His hair, of which he had a great profusion, was red, and hanging in disorder about his face and shoulders, gave to his restless looks an expression quite unearthly. With Barnaby's assistance, though he was mortally afraid of blood, Varden carried Mr. Chester, who proved to be not seriously wounded, to the house of Barnaby's mother, congratulating himself upon having had an adventure which would silence Mrs. Varden on the subject of the Maypole for that night, or there was no faith in woman.

IV

The locksmith's family consisted of his wife, his beautiful and bewitching daughter, Dolly, Miss Miggs, a cantankerous maid-servant, and Simon Tappertit, his apprentice. Sim was an old-fashioned, thin-faced, sleek-haired, sharp-nosed, small-eyed little fellow, not much more than five feet high, but fully convinced in his own mind that he was above the common height. He also had a majestic idea of the power of his eye, and he was accustomed to boast that he could subdue the haughtiest beauty by a simple process which he termed "eyeing her over." Such was Simon Tappertit, and it is needless to say that he was in love with his master's daughter.

V

The following night Gabriel Varden called at the widow Rudge's house, and found that her patient was in a fair way to recover. While Varden was in the house, a strange thing happened. There came a muffled knock at the door, and a voice close to the window- a voice which the locksmith seemed to recollect, and with which he seemed to have some disagreeable association-whispered, “Make haste.” The locksmith rushed to the door, but the widow followed, clung to him, and kept him from pursuit. "What does this mean?" cried the locksmith. "Don't ask," said the woman, in agitation. "He is not to be followed,

VI

checked, or stopped." Perplexed by this action, Varden remained within, and when Barnaby Rudge entered he went with him to the chamber where Edward Chester lay, and heard from the injured man the story of the attack he had suffered. He felt sure that the fellow who had felled Chester and the visitor of the evening were one and the same man, and was startled enough when a hoarse voice right beside him cried, "What's the matter here? Keep up your spirits! Never say die! I'm a devil, I'm a devil!" but this was only Grip, Barnaby's tame raven.

VII

VIII

There were other men abroad on that night besides the mysterious caller at the house of the widow Rudge. When all was quiet, Simon Tappertit stole downstairs and out of the house, and repaired to a dingy cellar, where a secret club of 'prentices, headed by Simon himself, held their meetings, and plotted insurrection and rebellion, and death to their masters. But Miggs heard Simon go out. She plugged the keyhole of the front door, and sat up all night till he came back, and was forced to call upon his " Angelic Miggs" (she was then looking out of an upper window) to let him in. This done, "Simmun is safe," she cried, and fainted away.

IX

ΧΙ

Not long after that windy, rainy night on which this X story opened, the Maypole Inn had another notable guest. This was Mr. Chester, senior, the father of Edward, who was soon installed in the best room of the inn, with a good dinner ordered, and Barnaby despatched as a messenger to Mr. Haredale at the Warren, requesting an interview. This aroused great excitement among the cronies below, for it was well known that Mr. Chester and Mr. Haredale had been for many years bitter enemies. "Willet," said Solomon Daisy, "when Mr. Chester come, did he order the large room?" “He signified, sir,” said John, "that he wanted a large apartment. Yes, certainly." 'Why, then, I'll tell you what," said Solomon. "He and Mr. Haredale are going to fight a duel in it." And the little party below, Mr. Haredale having now arrived, and having been ushered upstairs, listened with bated breath for the sound of falling bodies. The gentlemen did not fight, however, though their interview was a stormy one. For the first time in their lives they came to an agreement, Mr. Chester through self-interest, Mr. Haredale from pride and resentment. The agreement was that, by hook or by crook, by fair means or foul, the engagement between Mr. Chester's son and Mr. Haredale's niece, whom he dearly loved, should be broken. It was unfortunate for the lovers that XIII Joe Willet was away from home, for he might have discovered the intrigue. It happened that he had gone to London on

XII

XIV

that very day, as he did twice every year, to pay the vintner's bill. Joe had also a little errand of his own, which was to see the charming Dolly. But alas! when he arrived at the locksmith's house, Dolly was just setting out for an evening party. Joe soon mounted, and rode despondently home, meeting on the way Mr. Edward Chester, who was bound for the Warren. Joe held his horse, while Mr. Chester alighted. A maid-servant admitted him; and after waiting a few minutes in the old and gloomy hall, a lovely girl appeared whose dark hair, next moment, rested on his breast. Almost at the same instant Mr. Haredale stepped between them, thrust Edward away, and forbade him the house. So Edward and Joe, thus hampered in their loves, betook themselves to the Maypole; and the next day Edward, having returned to London, was informed by his selfish father that he was expected to retrieve the family fortunes by marrying an heiress; and when he indignantly declined to make this sacrifice of his honor and his inclinations, Mr. Chester, senior, coolly and politely cast him off and disowned him.

XV

XVI

XVII

Among the worst and poorest vagrants and criminals who haunted the dark places of London at this time was one whose constant restlessness gave rise to strange stories. He was always in motion, always alone. He had a pale, wild face, and was never seen without a slouch hat pulled over his brows. This man forced his way into the widow Rudge's house early one evening. "The very marrow in my bones," he said, "is cold with wet and hunger. I must have warmth and food, and I will have them here." The widow gave him food, and after he had eaten like a wild animal he sat crouching before the low-burning fire. A voice and a knock were heard at the door. The man seized a knife from the table, hid it in his coat-sleeve, and slunk into the closet, just as Barnaby opened the window and stepped into the room with Grip on his back. An hour later, when Barnaby had fallen asleep, the fellow crept out of his hiding-place, gazed intently at the face of the sleeper, and said in a hoarse whisper to the widow, "Observe. In him of whose existence I was ignorant until to-night, I have you in my power. Be careful how you use me. I am destitute and starving, and a wanderer upon the earth. I may take a sure and slow revenge." Then he XVIII went out into the darkness, and after wandering about the streets till it was nearly morning, bargained his last shilling for permission to lie down and sleep in that very cellar where Simon Tappertit and his companions at an earlier hour held their revels.

XIX

As soon as Edward Chester was able to go out, he came to the locksmith's with a note for Miss Haredale, thinking