finding out by the smell, and the smoke and the heat coming through to his feet, when he sat with his boots on in Black Rod's seat, that Dick Reynolds was right, when he said that night, that the fire in the stoves was a great deal too bright, stuff'd deep with sticks to three-fourths of their height, when sent in her fright, by poor Mistress Wright, to admonish Josh Cross, so full of his sauce, though rebuked by Weobly, who heard so feebly the words of Phipps, who allowed the chips to be burnt in the flues, but never told the news to Mr. Milne, who had said that a kiln was the place for the sticks that heated the bricks that set fire to the house that Josh burnt.

"This is Whitbread, the waiter, who added his negatur, to that of John Riddle, who only cried Fiddle !' when they told him that Cooper, of Drury-lane, had been down to Dudley and back again, and had heard that day, some traveller say that the house was a-blazing, a thing most amazing to even John Snell, who had found by the smell, and the smoke and the heat that was scorching his feet, as he sat in his boots in the Black Rod's seat, that Dick Reynolds was right, when he said that night that the fires in the stoves were alarmingly bright, stuff'd up with sticks to three-fourths of their height, when Mistress Wright, being really in a fright, sent him off to Josh Cross, full of his sauce, to Surveyor Weobly, who heard so feebly the orders of Phipps, who permitted the chips to be burnt in the flues, without carrying the news to Commissioner Milne, who had told him a kiln was the place for the sticks that heated the bricks that set fire to the house that Josh burnt.

"This is the Peer, who in town being resident, signed the report for the absent Lord President, and said that the history by Whitbread, the waiter, adding his negatur, to that of John Riddle, who laughed and said Fiddle!' when told Mr. Cooper, of Drury-lane, had been down to Dudley and back again, and had heard the same day, a bagman say, that the house was a-blazing, a thing quite amazing even to John Snell, who knew very well, by the smoke and the heat that was broiling his feet through his great thick boots in the Black Rod's seat, that Dick Reynolds was right, that the fires were too bright, heaped up to such an unconscionable height, in spite of the fright they gave poor Mistress Wright, when she sent to Josh Cross, so full of his sauce both to her and Weobly, who'd heard so feebly the directions of Phipps, when he told him the chips might be burnt in the flues, yet never sent the news, as he ought, to Milne, who'd have burn'd in a kiln those confounded old sticks, and not heated the bricks, nor set fire to the house that Josh burnt."

On the morning of June 17, 1845, Mr. Barham expired in the fifty-seventh year of his age, without a struggle, in faith and hope, and in charity with all men.

Independently of any admiration Mr. Barham's wit and

VOL. I.

14

talent might excite, there was a warmth of heart about him, and an amiability of disposition which rendered him justly dear to many, even beyond the pale of intimacy. His spirits were fresh and buoyant, his constitution vigorous, and his temperament sanguine. His humour never ranged "beyond the limits of becoming mirth," and was in its essence free from gall. When irony was employed it was commonly jest, and always gentle. His remains were laid within the walls of the church of St. Gregory, in the rectors' vault, beneath the altar at which he had ministered so long.

66

Perhaps," says his son, R. H. D. Barham, the author of the Life and Letters, "his virtues were of a kind especially adapted to win their own reward; certain it is that to him humanity was ever presented under its fairest aspect. He never lost a friend; he never met with coldness or neglect. His family were devotedly attached to him; those upon whom he was instrumental in conferring benefits were rarely, if ever, wanting in gratitude; and his own claims to consideration were readily and liberally allowed. All these things pass away. His memory may be cherished as a faithful pastor and firm friend, by some few fashioned of the better sort of clay, and his qualities may secure him a place for a season in the recollection of those who only sought in him an agreeable companion, but as an author he can scarcely be forgotten. His productions, whatever may be their defects or blemishes, must occupy that niche in the literature of the country which his genius has unquestionably carved out."

DOUGLAS JERROLD.

THIS brilliant wit, dramatist, and writer of truthful satire, was born in Greek Street, Soho, on the 3rd of January, 1803, and christened Douglas William, when he was carried in swaddling clothes to Cranbrook, in Kent, by his grandmother, whose maiden name was Douglas. His father was lessee of the Sheerness wooden theatre in the suburbs, which was among little Douglas's earliest recollections. In 1806, when he was in his third year, he was a strong, rosy, white-haired boy. "That intense love of nature, that thirst which the grown man felt for the freshness of the breeze, and that glow of heart with which he met the sunshine in after-life, appear to have first moved his soul as an infant. The memory of the sheep-bell, which made the hills about Cranbrook ever musical, was his earliest impression. Led by his grandmother, with whom he chiefly lived, for careful walks among the cleaner paths, he gathered the abundant wild flowers of the Kentish hedges, and trotted early home to bed, that the old lady might be at her humble post of money-taker at the Wilsby Theatre."*

Lord Cochrane used to be often at the theatre when he was at Sheerness, in the Pallas, and his lordship would always insist upon paying double. "The little white-haired boy, who ran about the theatre then, looking up with awe at the naval hero, was destined many years afterwards to take up the hero's cudgels. And very handsomely did the hero acknowledge his generous and very powerful advocacy of the investigation of the hero's case, having contributed to promote that act of justice, and produced a division of the Cabinet Council, after due deliberation, to recommend to her Majesty his immediate restoration to the Order of the Bath, which recommendation her Majesty has been graciously pleased to accept."

*

Life of Douglas Jerrold. By his son, Blanchard Jerrold (1859).

The thousand-pound note with which Lord Cochrane paid the fine inflicted on him, when he was found guilty, is, we believe, still preserved in the Bank of England, and bears this indorsement: "My health having suffered by long and close confinement, and my oppressors being resolved to deprive me of my property or life, I submit to robbery to save myself from murder, in the hope that I may live to bring the delinquents to justice."

The old door-keeper of the theatre remembered well the performance of the Stranger, and that "little Douglas," a handsome boy, appeared as one of the children in it; he did not remember that the manager's son often appeared, but he did remember that he never seemed to "take to it." "The truth is that Douglas Jerrold appeared on the paternal stage in several pieces when a child was needed. Edmund Kean, for instance, carried him on as Rolla. But not within the wooden walls of this theatre were the boy's thoughts. He had no inclination towards the footlights, and never cared, in after-life, for the drama-seen from behind the scenes.”—Life, by Blanchard Jerrold.

Mr. Wilkinson, who joined the Sheerness company, was engaged early in 1809, when little Jerrold was six years of age, to teach him reading and writing. At this time "little Douglas" showed a remarkable love of reading; and years afterwards, when the good old lady was blind and bed-ridden, she would tell stories of how she used to lock up "the dear child" in her own room with his books before she went to take the money at the theatre. He had then a passion for the sea, was graver than other children, and somewhat unusually ready "to show fight."

After Mr. Wilkinson left Sheerness, Douglas Jerrold was sent to Mr. Herbert's school, including about 100 scholars, where he remained four or five years; his scholars being able to read, write, and manage arithmetic. He gazed wistfully, passionately, at the noble frigates that ploughed the waves under his window. It is certain that the sea, and the glories of the sea, first evoked a longing in his young heart; he was surrounded by grand and most attractive realities; the docks and the arsenal of Sheerness-ships coming home to refit after various cruises-sailors who could talk of the Nile and Trafalgar. The lad, delicate and sensitive, was smitten with a passion for the life at sea; and his wishes prevailing,

a midshipman's appointment was obtained for him from Captain Austen, brother of Miss Austen, the novelist.

From Sheerness, his birth-place, Jerrold passed into his Majesty's service as midshipman : his son relates:

"He had gone ashore with Captain Hutchinson, and was left in command of the gig. While the commander was absent, two of the men in the midshipman's charge requested permission to make some trifling purchases. The good-natured officer assented, adding 'By the way, you may as well buy me some apples and a few pears.'-'All right, sir,' said the men; and they departed. The captain presently returned, and still the seamen were away on their errand. They were searched for, but they could not be found. They had deserted. Any naval reader whose eye may wonder over this page will readily imagine the disgrace into which Midshipman Douglas Jerrold fell with his captain. Upon the young delinquent the event made a lasting impression, and years afterwards he talked about it with that curious excitement which lit up his face when he spoke of anything he had felt. He remembered even the features of the two deserters; as he had, most unexpectedly, an opportunity of proving. The midshipman had long put his dirk aside, and washed the salt from his brave face. He had become a fighter with a keener weapon than his dirk had ever proved, when, one day strolling eastward, possibly from the office of his own newspaper to the printing premises of Messrs. Bradbury and Evans, in Whitefriars, he was suddenly struck with the form and face of a baker, who, with his load of bread at his back, was examining some object in the window of the surgical instrument-maker who puzzles so many inquisitive passers-by, near the entrance to King's College. There was no mistake. Even the flour-dredge could not hide the fact. The ex-midshipman walked nimbly to the baker's side, and rapping him sharply upon the back, said— 'I say, my friend, don't you think you've been rather a long time about that fruit?' The deserter's jaw fell. Thirty years had not calmed the unquiet suggestions of his conscience. He remembered the fruit and the little middy, for he saidLor', is that you, sir?' The midshipman went on his way laughing."

In 1815, Douglas William Jerrold, volunteer, stepped ashore and turned his back for ever on the service. Yet, he never ceased to be at heart a sailor; he loved the sea-was proud of British oak. But he also spoke with horror of the