It couldn't have come about better!" The old man crossed his arms upon his breast, and, drawing his head and shoulders into a heap, literally hugged himself for joy. "Ours!" said Sikes. "Yours, you mean." "Perhaps I do, my dear," said the Jew with a shrill chuckle. "Mine, if you like, Bill." "And wot," said Sikes, scowling fiercely on his agreeable friend," wot makes you take so much pains about one chalkfaced kid, when you know there are fifty boys snoozing about Common Garden every night, as you might pick and choose from ?" "Because they're of no use to me, my dear," replied the Jew with some confusion, "not worth the taking; for their looks convict 'em when they get into trouble, and I lose 'em all. With this boy properly managed, my dears, I could do what I couldn't with twenty of them. Besides," said the Jew, recovering his self-possession, "he has us now if he could only give us leg-bail again; and he must be in the same boat with us; never mind how he came there, it's quite enough for my power over him that he was in a robbery, that's all I want. Now how much better this is, than being obliged to put the poor leetle boy out of the way, which would be dangerous,and we should lose by it, besides." "When is it to be done?" asked Nancy, stopping some turbulent exclamation on the part of Mr. Sikes, expressive of the disgust with which he received Fagin's affectation of humanity. "Ah, to be sure," said the Jew, "when is it to be done, י? Bill 66 66 "I planned with Toby the night arter to-morrow," rejoined Sikes in a surly voice, if he heard nothing from me to the contrairy." "Good," said the Jew; "No," rejoined Sikes. "there's no moon." "It's all arranged about bringing off the swag,* is it?" asked the Jew. Sikes nodded. "And about "Oh ah, it's all planned," rejoined Sikes, interrupting him; never mind particulars. You'd better bring the boy here to-morrow night; I shall get off the stones an hour arter daybreak. Then you hold your tongue, and keep the melting-pot ready, and that's all you'll have to do." After some discussion in which all three took an active part, it was decided that Nancy should repair to the Jew's next evening, when the night had set in, and bring Oliver away with her: Fagin craftily observing, that, if he evinced any disinclination to the task, he would be more willing to accompany the girl, who had so recently interfered in his behalf, than anybody else. It was also solemnly arranged that poor Oliver should, * Booty. for the purposes of the contemplated expedition, be unreservedly consigned to the care and custody of Mr. William Sikes; and further, that the said Sikes should deal with him as he thought fit, and should not be held responsible by the Jew for any mischance or evil that might befal the boy, or any punishment with which it might be necessary to visit him, it being understood that, to render the compact in this respect binding, any representations made by Mr. Sikes on his return should be required to be confirmed and corroborated, in all important particulars, by the testimony of flash Toby Crackit. These preliminaries adjusted, Mr. Sikes proceeded to drink brandy at a furious rate, and to flourish the crowbar in an alarming manner, yelling forth at the same time most unmusical snatches of song mingled with wild execrations. At length, in a fit of professional enthusiasm, he insisted upon producing his box of housebreaking tools, which he had no sooner stumbled in with, and opened for the purpose of explaining the nature and properties of the various implements it contained, and the peculiar beauties of their construction, than he fell over it upon the floor, and went to sleep where he fell. "Good night, Nancy!" said the Jew, muffling himself up as before. "Good night!" Their eyes met, and the Jew scrutinised her narrowly. There was no flinching about the girl. She was as true and earnest in the matter as Toby Crackit himself could be. The Jew again bade her good night, and, bestowing a sly kick upon the prostrate form of Mr. Sikes while her back was turned, groped down stairs. "Always the way," muttered the Jew to himself as he turned homewards. "The worst of these women is, that a very little thing serves to call up some long-forgotten feeling; and the best of them is, that it never lasts. Ha ha! The man against the child, for a bag of gold!" Beguiling the time with these pleasant reflections, Mr. Fagin wended his way through mud and mire to his gloomy abode, where the Dodger was sitting up, impatiently awaiting his return. "Is Oliver a-bed? I want to speak to him," was his first remark as they descended the stairs. "Hours ago," replied the Dodger, throwing open a door. "Here he is!" The boy was lying fast asleep on a rude bed upon the floor, so pale with anxiety, and sadness, and the closeness of his prison, that he looked like death; not death as it shows in shroud and coffin, but in the guise it wears when life has just departed when a young and gentle spirit has but an instant fled to heaven, and the gross air of the world has not had time to breathe upon the changing dust it hallowed. "To "Not now," said the Jew turning softly away. morrow. To-morrow." THE LONELY GIRL. SHE walk'd alone in the mingled throng, She was dress'd in the pride of fashion's glare, I saw her smile as her gallant pass'd,— For she thought of the times when she led the dance, She thought of the times when the joys of to-day She thought of the cot and the rustic gown, She thought of the parents that bless'd their child, For Mary was once the pride of the plain, The flute and the cymbal welcomed her then,- But now there are none to hear her woes, To wipe from her eye the penitent tear, Or chase away thoughts of the morrow. Yes, Mary, there's one whose heart beats for thee yet, Who thinks of her child far away, Who blesses thee still, in the stranger land, Tho' mouldering fast to decay. She weeps for thee e'en in the midnight hour, She prays for her once adored, still beloved child,- She prays to the Power that rules the winds She prays the prayer of a parent's grief, Child of sin! to thy parent speed, For know that Love can only rest THE APPORTIONMENT OF THE WORLD. FROM SCHILLER. "TAKE the world!" from his throne on high, God cried; His attribute for ever. Go! divide; Apportion it like brothers, if you can!" Straight at his bidding, forth on either hand Both old and young to take their portion came : The merchant from all climes his wares did bring; Last of the throng, from wandering far and wide, And saw that nought remain'd for him to share. "Ah, wo is me! and must I be forgot, The trustiest of your subjects, I, alone?" As thus he bitterly deplored his lot He cast himself before the Almighty's throne. "If in a world of reverie and rhyme You ever live," God answer'd, “blame not me. Where hast thou been? how hast thou pass'd thy time?" "I was," replied the poet, “ nigh to thee; "My eyes have gloated on thy glory's blaze; My ears have drunk the music of the spheres: Of heaven, I have for earth nor eyes nor ears." "What then remains?" God answered. "All is given; But, if thou wilt abide with me in heaven, Come when thou wilt,-best life for thee to live!" VOL. II. 2 s SHAKSPEARE PAPERS.-No. V. HIS LADIES.-I. LADY MACBETH. "Then gently scan your brother man, BURNS. "Je donne mon avis, non comme bon, mais comme mien." MONTAIGNE. THE ladies of Shakspeare have of course riveted the attention, and drawn to them the sympathies, of all who have read or seen his plays. The book-trained critic, weighing words and sentences in his closet; the romantic poet, weaving his verses by grove or stream; the polished occupant of the private box; the unwashed brawler of the gallery; the sedate visitant of the pit, are touched each in his several way by the conjugal devotion and melancholy fate of Desdemona, the high-souled principle of Isabella, the enthusiastic love and tragic end of Juliet, the maternal agonies of Constance, the stern energies of Margaret of Anjou, the lofty resignation of Katharine, the wit and romance of Rosalind, frolic of tongue, but deeply feeling at heart; the accomplished coquetries of Cleopatra, redeemed and almost sanctified by her obedient rushing to welcome death at the call ringing in her ears from the grave of her self-slain husband; the untiring affection of Imogen, Ophelia's stricken heart and maddened brain, or the filial constancy of Cordelia. Less deeply marked, but all in their kind beautiful, are the innocence of Miranda, the sweetness of Anne Page, the meek bearing-beneath the obtrusion of undesired honours-of Anne Boleyn, the playful fondness of Jessica ;-but I should run through all the catalogue of Shakspeare's plays were I to continue the enumeration. The task is unnecessary, for they dwell in the hearts of all, of every age, and sex, and condition. They nestle in the bosoms of the wise and the simple, the sedentary and the active, the moody and the merry, the learned and the illiterate, the wit of the club, the rustic of the farm, the soldier in camp, the scholar in college; and it affords a remarkable criterion of their general effect, that, even in those foreign countries which, either from imperfect knowledge, defective taste, or national prejudice, set little value on the plays of Shakspeare,-while Hamlet, Richard, Macbeth, King John, Lear, and Falstaff, are unknown or rejected, the names of Desdemona and Juliet are familiar as household words. No writer ever created so many female characters, or placed them in situations of such extreme diversity; and in none do we find so lofty an appreciation of female excellence. The stories from which the great dramatists of Athens drew their plots were, in most of their striking incidents, derogatory to woman. The tale of Troy divine, the war of Thebes, the heroic legends, were their favourite, almost their exclusive sources; and the crimes, passions, and misfortunes of Clytemnestra and Medea, Phædra and Jocasta, could only darken the scene. An adulterous spouse aiding in the murder of her longabsent lord, the King of men, returning crowned with conquest; a daughter participating in the ruthless avenging by death inflicted on a mother by a son; an unpitying sorceress killing her children to sa |