Bristol and Birmingham, and could not possibly say how long he might be detained there. Mrs. Plugson was patient as Griselda herself. In forwarding odious Mr. Crank's letter amongst others, she wrote the following to her husband.

"Dearest Charles,

"So you are at Bristol, when I expected you in town, and it may be weeks before I have you with me again. Well, you know I never complain or blame you. I knew you were an engineer when I married you: all I wish is that Parliament would make a law confining all the railroads to London, or at least to the county of Middlesex. I am very well in health, but not quite so well in spirits, for I have poor Mrs. Crank with me, and she is very much depressed indeed, as you will easily believe when I tell you that she has seen the letter from her husband to you, which is amongst the enclosures I send. It is but too plain that Mr. Crank is one of your black sheep, who have naughty ways as well as railways' and indeed, Charles, I am surprised and grieved to think that you are capable of encouraging such a shocking man. Who Adelaide is, I will not inquire: but there is no harm in my asking who is Mrs. D for it appears that Mr. Crank is a beau with two strings to it. But I won't trouble you more now, for I know how very hardworked you are, and I know you will not be absent one moment longer than absolutely necessary from your own

"JANE."

The feelings with which Mr. Plugson received this affectionate and sensible letter are left to the reader to divine. His answer was as follows:

"My dearest Jane, "I can well conceive the effect of Crank's letter upon his unhappy wife. Support her as well as you can. Believe me, dear, I am not to blame in this most extraordinary business. As to Mrs. D- I know nothing whatever about her, but that she is the young wife of an old director of the North-British, and that she laughs by the hour at the extravagant dress of poor Crank, particularly at his waistcoats and jewellery. never saw her; all I know is from Valve and others on that line. With respect to the other lady I prefer to say nothing at present. Let her require what attention she may, I can pay her none while I remain here, which I must do for three days longer at least. On Thursday evening next you may be looking out for your

"C. P."

I

The correspondence of the brother engineers has not been preserved, but it may be presumed that Plugson gave his friend early intelligence of all that took place, and how his wife had found him out at last.

To poor Mrs. Crank every day brought new sorrows, in the shape of fresh proofs of her heartless husband's infidelity. One morning she observed the following advertisement in the Times.

"When will A. hear again from C.? She is in a delicate situation,

and in want of money. A. knows that C. would not willingly suffer her to want any thing.'

Mrs. Plugson thought A. did not necessarily stand for Adelaide; it might be for Augusta, or Ada, or Alice, or twenty others.

"But then," said Mrs. Crank, "there is the Č. as well as the A., so there cannot be a shadow of a doubt."

Then it was that Mrs. Crank announced to her friend the spirited resolution she had come to, never more to receive Mr. Crank as her husband, until he either cleared his character (which it was plain he never could do), or made the most humiliating confession and abjuration that it was possible to make of his conjugal crimes and misdemeanours. Mrs. Plugson, as ardent now that she felt her friend was an ill-used woman, as she had been cold while she thought her suspicions were groundless -applauded this determination, and pressed Mrs. Crank to make Great Coram-street her home until her husband returned to his senses and his duty. The offer was gladly accepted.

Plugson returned on the day he had named in his letter. The wrongs of Mrs. Crank were, of course, the engrossing topic of conversation. Plugson had no comfort to give that unhappy lady. He protested his own innocence; over and over again assured Mrs. Crank, and (what was more important still) assured his wife, that he had never directly or indirectly encouraged his friend's licentious behaviour; but he was forced to admit that Crank was devotedly attached to Adelaide, and he feared it would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to induce him to abandon the connexion. The ladies showed him the advertisement, which they had cut out of the Times. Mr. Plugson said he was confident it was a mere accidental coincidence, upon which Mrs. Crank shook her head.

"But, Mr. Plugson, who is this horrid woman?"

"At present it would be useless to tell "Is she young?"

you."

?" added Mrs. Plugson.

"Yes, my dear, as Mr. Crank says in his letter."
"Charles, did you see her since you came to town?"

"I did."

"Will you promise me not to see her again until Mr. Crank returns ?"

"Do make him promise, Jane."

"I ought to see her every day-she requires it—but to satisfy you both, I do promise."

The following morning, Mr. and Mrs. Plugson, with their disconsolate refugee, were seated at breakfast. There was tea, toast, and the Times. The engineer took the news sheet all to himself, and generously left the advertisements to the ladies. Mrs. Crank threw her eye listlessly over the interminable columns of wants, wishes, offers, sales, proposals, notices, auctions, catalogues, invitations, bargains, schemes, undertakings, July.-VOL. LXXI. NO. CCLXXXIII.

Χ

sacrifices. At length her eye crept up to a very brief advertisement in the left-hand corner at the top of one of the vast pages, and there it instantly laid hold of something that made her cry out,

"Oh, Jane. A. and C. again, I declare!"

Mrs. Plugson ran over and read

"A. received C.'s communication, but she must see her dear C. himself immediately, or the consequences will be dreadful."

"Remember, I tell you," said Mrs. Crank, "he will be in town tomorrow, or the day after at farthest."

Mr. Plugson was still sceptical; he did not think A. stood for Adelaide, or, at least for Mr. Crank's Adelaide. The women, however, had no doubt on the subject.

The letters now came in. There was one from Crank to Plugson, which the latter, before he opened it, declared he would let Mrs. Crank read if she desired it, at the same time advising her not to put herself to unnecessary torture. Need it be told that the advice was not taken ? Need it be added that the letter was worthy of the unfeeling writer? It ran as follows:

"Dear P.,

"The instant you return see my Adelaide. I fear she has been neglected. My heart is wrapped up in her. I can think of nothing else. Has the doctor seen her? I hope and trust she will do well. I will be in town very shortly; possibly the day after to-morrow. By the bye, should Mrs. Crank want tea, or sugar, or candles, pray advance her a little cash.

"Yours ever,

"T. C."

Comment on this piece of barbarity would be worse than useless. Mrs. Plugson was wild. As to the monster's wife, it was scarcely pos

sible to make her more wretched than she was before.

The offender came at last-perhaps the advertisement accelerated his movements-perhaps it did not. He went to Cecil-street, and found his hearth cold and his home desolate. So may the home and hearth of every false husband be!

A brief cold note from his abused bride, which he found on the table, announced that his perfidies were known, and stated the only terms upon which a reconciliation was to be thought of.

Over the agonies of a guilty conscience-if Crank was capable of a conscientious pang-we draw the curtain. Perhaps Plugson witnessed them, for he visited him that evening, and the result was an arrangement that Mr. and Mrs. Crank should meet at twelve o'clock, on the day following, at Mr. Valve's office, Tower Stairs (where both the engineers had indispensable business), that Mr. and Mrs. Plugson only should be present, and that "then and there," as the lawyers say, Mr. Crank should vindicate himself if he had a defence to make, or make a clean breast of it, and repeat and subscribe any apology his outraged wife should dictate.

At the appointed hour the parties accordingly met at Valve's, in a

small room that looked out on the river. Mrs. Crank saw the felon in every feature of her lord's face.

Now, Crank," said Plugson, after an interchange of cold salutations and bitter looks, "Mrs. Crank will ask you a few short questions, which you will answer truly, like a gentleman and a man of honour."

"I will," said Crank, with surprising firmness, considering his si

tuation.

"Proceed, madam," said Plugson.

Mrs. Crank looked an indescribable mixture of rancour, grief, and triumph, as she put her first terrible interrogatory.

"And so, Mr. Crank, you have an Adelaide ?"

"I have, madam," he replied, with averted eyes, not daring to meet the glance of justice.

"Where is she?"

"Very near this."

"Who attends her?"

“The doctor and myself."

"Yourself."

"Yes, I think I understand her case as well as the doctor."

"You hear him," said Mrs. Crank, appealing to her friends, "he declares he will never give her up. Then you mean to abandon me?" "I have no such present intention, madam."

"What, sir!-do you mean?-do you think?-you are too odious -too abominable-I will never, never live with you, or see your face again."

"Plugson, has Mrs. Plugson ever seen my Adelaide? I am sure, if-"

"For shame, Mr. Crank! I see your Adelaide! You are too impudent! Charles, let us go."

"Well, you shall see her-you shall all see her-by Jove, you shall, before you leave this room, and in all her beauty."

The ladies screamed.

"You shall, by Jove," thundered the engineer again.

And pulling up the blind of a small window that commanded the Thames, lo! there rode at anchor, within ten yards, a spruce, tight iron steamer, glittering in the sun, and on her varnished paddle-box in huge gold letters, legible at the distance of half-a-mile, flamed the formidable name of

A DELA IDE.

Σ.

"Old cries," "old cries"-there is not one
But hath a mystic tissue spun
Around it, flinging on the ear
A magic mantle rich and dear,

From "Hautboys," pottled in the sun,

To the loud wish that cometh when
The tune of midnight "waits" is done
With "A merry Christmas, gentlemen,
And a happy new year."

The clear spring dawn is breaking, and there cometh with the ray,
The stripling boy with "shining face" and dame in "hodden grey
Rude melody is breathed by all-young-old-the strong and weak,
From manhood with its burly tone and age with treble squeak.
Forth come the little busy "Jacks," and forth come little " Gills,"
As thick and quick as working ants about their summer hills,
With baskets of all shapes and makes, of every size and sort,
Away they trudge, with eager step, through alley, street, and court.
A spicy freight they bear along, and earnest is their care,
To guard it like a tender thing from morning's nipping air,
And though our rest be broken by their voices shrill and clear,
There's something in the well known "cry" we dearly love to hear.
'Tis old familiar music when "the old woman runs"
With "One a penny, two a penny, Hot Cross Buns."
Full many a cake of dainty make has gained a good renown,

We all have lauded "gingerbread" and "parliament" done brown;
But when did luscious "Banburies," or even "Sally Lunns,"
Ere yield such merry chorus theme as "one a penny buns."
The pomp of palate that may be like old Vitellius fed,

Can never feast as mine did on the sweet and fragrant bread,
When quick impatience could not wait to share the early meal,

But eyed the pile of "Hot Cross Buns," and dared to snatch and steal.
Oh the soul must be uncouth as a Vandal's, Goth's, or Hun's,
That loveth not the melody of "One a penny buns."