Broken on the Wheel. By JOSEPH HATTON BY ORDER OF THE KING. (L'Homme qui Rit.) By VICTOR HUGO. (Continued).-Chaps. III.-VIII. 466 555 (Continued).-Chap. vi. CONCLUSION.-Chaps. I.-IV. Bézique. By the Author of "CAVENDISH ON WHIST" CORRESPONDENCE OF SYLVANUS URBAN :- An Ancient School Book-The Aurora Polaris-A Genius The Wild Cat and the Keilder District-Suez Canal-A Bullock of Taxes on Pages and Pageantry (Illustrated)—Performing Fleas― Meteorites-The Manufacture of Antiquities-The Power of the Human Heart-Charles Knubel-Extracting Bullets by Elec- tricity The Mariners' Compass-Warming Houses by Gas- Knockers (Illustrated)—The Perils of the Ballet-Doctors v. The Jewel in the Toad's Eye-Beasts of Burden-Diamonds— Our Lost Contributors-Merchant Sailors and their Grievances- Spots on the Sun-Harmony in Singing-Belief in Charms and Silken Banner, The.. A Story of Sedgemoor. By JOSEPH HATTON. Suez Canal (The) and Upper Egypt. By ESPRIT ÉCLAIRE 129 337 327 524 Tales from the Old Dramatists. By SHIRLEY BROOKS :- No. VII.-Anointed with Vial of Wrath Chaps. v.-VIII. (Continued).—Chaps. III.—VII. THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE DECEMBER, 1869. BROKEN ON THE WHEEL. BY JOSEPH HATTON, AUTHOR OF "CHRISTOPHER KENRICK." E was ever a strange, wild spirit: at one time revelling in fits of dissipation; at another, reading hard and going to church on Sundays, like a plodding, respectable man. A week ago he began to tell me his story, the story of his life from the beginning. There was a peculiarly touching pathos in his style which I can hardly hope to reflect in these pages. It seemed as if he loved to dwell upon his earliest days. He would describe every little incident of his life at the outset, and gradually fall away from this close picturesque painting, as he approached the end, his story becoming more suggestive than narratory, until at last it was nothing but a wild burst of passion, the cry of the maniac broken upon the wheel of fortune, and raving at fate, This is his strange and pitiful story : "What an ugly little rascal!" exclaimed my father, in answer to the "there, sir," of a portly Gampish woman, who held something in a bundle under his nose, "what an ugly little rascal!" "Lor, sir," said the woman, "for goodness sake don't go and say so to the missus, she'll never get over it." But my father had no particularly delicate scruples on that score, as my mother has since told me. He did repeat this rough and ready criticism on the personal appearance of your humble servant, George Newbolde. How rapidly I changed from anything but a handsome baby, my VOL. IV., N. S. 1869. B |