Frenchmen, came back, and, clasping the unresisting Mrs. Plumpton in his arms, bestowed a hearty smack upon her lips. "You'll forgive me for putting your affection to this trial, I hope, my dear," he said.

"That I will," replied Mrs. Plumpton-" that I will."

"I'll forgive you, too, serjeant," said Mrs. Tipping, nudging his elbow, "though you don't deserve it."

Without saying a word, Scales turned and clasped her to his breast. But the embrace was certainly not so hearty as that which he had just bestowed on the housekeeper.

"Well, I hope you've taken care of my room in my absence ?” said Scales.

"Come and look at it," cried Mrs. Plumpton; "you'll find it just as you left it."

"Yes, come and look at it," added Mrs. Tipping; "we've cleaned it regularly."

"Thank'ee, thank'ee!" rejoined the serjeant.

"Your drum's as tightly braced as my bodice," said Proddy. "Oh dear! I wish somebody would unlace me."

The coachman being relieved, they all adjourned to the den, and as they went thither, Scales observed to Mrs. Plumpton, that he should never forget the way in which she had received him, saying, “It had made an ineffaceable impression on his heart."

"Ineffaceable fiddlestick!" exclaimed Mrs. Tipping, who overheard the remark. "As if she didn't know you were shamming all the while. Why, bless your simplicity, serjeant, did you think you could impose on us by so shallow a device? No such thing. We saw through it the moment you came in."

The serjeant looked incredulous, but at this moment he reached the den, and his thoughts turned in another channel.

He hesitated for a second, and then, with a somewhat trembling hand, opened the door, and passed in. Everything was in its place the plans, the portrait, the gloves, the sword, the shot, the meerschaum, with the drum standing on the three-legged stool. The serjeant surveyed them all, and a tear glistened in his eye. He said nothing, but squeezed Mrs. Plumpton's hand affectionately.

THE WRONG OMNIBUS.

BY A PHYSICIAN, CONFINED IN BEDLAM.

I was sent for, one cold December evening, to visit a patient residing at Shoreditch. My own dwelling was near St. George's Church, Bloomsbury. The weather was very intense. The snow lay upon the ground to the depth, in many places, of two feet. Accidents were happening every moment. People with pinched noses hurried along the streets; and beggars, beneath archways, besought you to have pity upon them for the love of God.

It happened that every cab was off the nearest stand, and time was urgently pressing. I hastened, therefore, into Holborn, and hailed the first omnibus, which was bound, as I imagined, for the part of the town whither my professional avocations called me. It was not till we had reached Whitechapel Church that I discovered my mistake, and "Hinc illæ lachrymæ.

"Ho, there!-ho, ho!" I cried out.

"Now, sir-Whitechapel Church. You are the gentleman that asked for Whitechapel Church, an't you?" said the conductor.

66

Whitechapel! No, confound you, I said Shoreditch!"

"Bless you, we don't go Shoreditch."

"You told me you did. Surely I am not at Whitechapel! I'll pull you up for this."

White

"You are a merry gentleman. Who'll you pull up? chapel!' cries I. Ho! I'm for that part,' says you. In you gets, and now you grumbles."

"Don't pay him, sir," said a small, chuckling voice, inside; "I am always getting into wrong 'busses myself, and I never pay; rides come cheap that way-he, he, he!"

I had determined, in my own mind, to withhold the fare, but there was something so jeering in this remark, and the laugh with which it was followed up, that I paid the sixpence, and alighted. Cursing my mishap, I cast my eyes about to discover some mode of conveyance to my original destination. There were no vehicles within call, so I put my feet into motion, and hurried off to reach one. Turning an angle in the street, my steps were arrested by the groans of a woman, who was stretched upon the causeway. I stooped, and found her bleeding at the neck.

"Good God!" I exclaimed; "who has done this?"

She made an effort to answer me, but the sound died in her throat. I raised a cry for the police, but, as usual, when their services are required, none of them were to be found.

"My poor woman," I said, "who has assaulted you?" At the same time I lifted her from the pavement.

The blood flowed copiously from the wound, which had evidently been inflicted with some sharp instrument, and my sleeves and dress were saturated. Casting a glance upon the pavement, I beheld a large knife glittering in the rays of a lamp which shone from a neighbouring doorway.

By this time, the attention of those who dwelt near the spot was

elicited by my repeated shouts, and more than one door and window opened, and two or three persons made their appearance.

"What's the row?" cried one.

"What's up?" exclaimed another.

"Who has hung himself?" chorused a third. "My friends, come hither, and help me.

through foul play," I cried.

Here is a woman dying

Soon a little crowd had gathered around, and lights were brought; but the woman had died in my arms.

66

1

"How pale he looks!" noted one, observing my features. "How he shakes!" said another. "I'll swear I saw him with her third.

Maybe he did it himself." ten minutes ago!" exclaimed a

"He looks guilty. He has got a gallows' swing in his countenance," averred a fourth.

Why, I know not, unless it was the peculiar position that I occupied, but my trepidation increased momently, and the blood, habituated as my profession had rendered me to the sight, became nauseous, and I appeared to reel beneath the reflection of the gory hues that danced everywhere before me. The crowd, too, closed in around me, and the frosty air of December became, for an instant, sultry as the parching breath of the siroc.

"Let me have fresh air," I cried,

66 or I shall faint.”

"He wants to escape-that's his move," was the response.

At this moment three policemen arrived together.

"He is the murderer," said two or three, pointing simultaneously towards me.

"Here's the knife he did it with," said one individual, picking up from the pavement the weapon with which the deed had certainly

been committed.

"Her name is Nanny Simmons," deposed another. "I know her well. She lives in Swallow-street; and this gentleman is a doctor that used to visit her."

"Are you a doctor, sir?" questioned a policeman.

"I am a doctor," I answered; "but there is some mistake here." "Hark to him, the dirthy vagabone," shouted an Irishwoman. "Oh, there's no mistake, my jewel. Think of his cutting the cratur's throat in a mistake."

"I cut her throat!" I exclaimed; "I found her lying here with her throat cut, and I cried for help."

"Ah, but you did it yourself for all that," said a stout fellow, in a coalheaver's dress. "I know the woman; I saw her, not twenty minutes ago, standing by the church. Good night, Missis Simmons,' says I. I'm waiting for the next 'bus,' says she- Saucy Bill's 'bus. There's some one I knows coming in it. Maybe I shall have some words with him to-night, so it wont be good night, d'ye see.' Them's just her words."

"Well, I didn't see the woman, but I saw this one (pointing to me) get out of Saucy Bill's 'bus, not ten minutes ago, and it was by the church, too," said another.

"We must move off to the station," said a policeman.

"Tom, go

for a stretcher, and take up the body. You must come with us, sir," tapping me on the shoulder.

"I am ready to go with you," I answered.

So, amidst the comments of the crowd, who continued to attend and press upon us, we took our departure.

Many times have I reflected upon the occurrence of that evening, and have striven to account for the unwonted and irresistible depression which stole over me, influencing my limbs, till they appeared to bend under my weight, and lying with an incubus' pressure upon my naturally elastic spirits.

The inspector of night charges, stationed at the office, took a report of the case.

"You found the woman bleeding at the neck?" he said, addressing me. "Have you any idea how the wound was inflicted! Remember, I caution you to avoid saying anything which may criminate yourself. Your answers will be written down, and used in your favour, or against you, as may hereafter happen."

"Anything that may criminate myself! Good God! I am not suspected of murder! Here is my card."

The man took the pasteboard, and, glancing at it, remarked that it was a name well known in the medical profession. He also ordered me a seat, remarking, at the same time, that I was in a state of extreme agitation.

Here one of the officers spoke to the effect that two or three witnesses were in attendance who could swear to my acquaintance with the deceased, and to having seen me with her only a few minutes before the murder must have been committed. They were ordered in, and questioned.

"What is your name?" said the inspector, to the first-a man of a forward, and yet repulsive appearance.

"Thomas Turnaway," answered the fellow.

"Are you acquainted with the person of the deceased?"

"Very well. She lived only three doors from my house, in Swallowstreet. Her name is Nanny Simmons."

"Have you ever seen the gentleman seated in that chair before?" "I saw him to-night, for the first time. He was talking to her at the corner of Hart-street, about half-an-hour ago."

I was about to interrupt, but the inspector imposed silence. "Are you positive of his identity?" he asked of the witness.

"I am positive that the man I saw talking to the woman who was found with her throat cut is the man now sitting in that chair." "Have you any further evidence?"

"None."

"You may now question him, sir," said the inspector. A minute before I could have spoken; I now declined.

"Then he may stand back," said the officer.

Here a woman made her appearance.

"What is your name?" said the inspector.

"Who is next?"

'Mary Mince, I live at 16, Swallow-street, next door to the house

occupied by deceased, whom I knew well.”

"Do you know this person?" pointing to me.

"Very well, by sight. I never spoke to him.

He used to come

and see her till within a month ago. He hasn't been since."

"Did

you know his name?"

"I did not. I always understood he was a doctor. Mrs. Simmons

told me he was the father of her child. She was a widow. Her husband has been dead many years. She has a child about one year and a half old. She said a doctor was its father, and that he used to come and give her money. I saw him one day coming along the street, and I pointed him out to her, and asked her if he was the father of her child, as I knew he used to call and see her? She answered that he was."

"And can you swear that the person now before you is the gentleman whom you saw on the day you allude to, and whom the deceased said was the father of her child?"

"I can swear it: he is the same."

Another witness deposed to observing the woman standing by the church, and afterwards seeing me alight from an omnibus, upon which she walked away, and I followed her.

A fourth witness stated that the deceased had informed him that she had quarrelled with a doctor, who was the father of her child, and that she had not seen him for a month, but that she expected him that night, when she hoped to make it up with him.

I here claimed right to make an observation.

Scarcely had I commenced to speak, when some one remarked, in an undertone, that my teeth chattered. They did, certainly. The inspector commanded silence, and awaited my speech, but the ardour had passed off, and I was unable to utter a word. On such a charge bail could not be accepted, and I was locked up on suspicion of murder.

Never shall I forget the horror of that night. The certainty that immediate intelligence would be dispatched to the press, and that on the following morning my name would go forth to the world as the suspected perpetrator of so horrible a deed-the damning evidence, every whit false, with which destiny seemed resolved to work my ruin-my own palsied powers-the abstraction of my faculties-the tremour I had exhibited during the inquisition at the station-houseall would be published, and would co-operate against me in the public mind. I was frantic at the thought. I sat in my narrow cell, and gnawed my fingers; then, roused into momentary madness, I impotently struggled at escape.

The next day I was taken before a magistrate, when the same witnesses attended, and the same and even additional evidence was gone into. Saucy Bill, as he was called, the conductor of the omnbius in which (curses on it!) I had arrived at Whitechapel, stated that he had brought me as far as the church; that I had got up at Holborn, at the end of King-street; that I had distinctly said "Whitechapel;" and that on arriving at the spot I had designated, I endeavoured to shuffle him out of his fare, and created a disturbance by pretending that I wanted to have been taken to Shoreditch, and charged him with having falsely called his a Shoreditch omnibus. He added, that a gentleman, who was the only other passenger in the vehicle at the time, and who overheard the altercation, was in court, and had evidence of his own to give. This person was immediately called for by the magistrate, and proved to be the individual before spoken of, with the small chuckling voice. He corroborated the fellow's statement of my attempt to swindle him out of his fare, and avowed his belief that I was the mur derer.