The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 170: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ogee [ee ee eee ee eee ad ee oe mnt Ee TI tt I -_ — —| =—- a2 ae | | | | THE MYSTREIES OF THE COURT. “TI don’t quite understand it,” observed his friend dubiously. “ Quite intelligible, my dear fellow!” said Mr. Bealby. “TI inserted an advertisement in a news- paper offering to instruct any ove who sent me five shillings’ worth of postage stamps, in the way of making three or four pounds a week. On receiv- ing the stamps, I sent hbalf-a-dozen practical receipts,—one for making eheap ginger-beer—an- other for soda-powders—a third for pomatum—a fourth for a dentifrice—a fifth for an anti-biljous pill—a sixth for a cosmetic—and so on. Now ob- serve! The advertisement cost me seven-and- sixpence—it brought me twenty letters containing the stamps—that was five pounds: deduct the expenses for advertisement, the little printed slips of receipts, the stationary and postage for replies— and I had at least four pounds eight to put into my own pocket.” “That was a lucrative thing,” observed Ben Limber. ‘“ Why did you give it up?” “It gave moe up,” answered Bealby: “it wore iteolf out. A number of other fellows imitated , the trick: they cheapened the thing—they enly asked for a shilling’s worth of stampa: and ao it soon ceased to be worth while to carry on the buasi- ness atall.” — “Well, what did you do next?” inquired Limber. “I opened a servants’ bazaar,” Bealby. “ But how the douce did you make a connexion amongst servants P” exclaimed Limber. “TI neverdid makeany. I charged half-a-crown for registering each name in my book; and, you see, it was all clear prufit.” “Well, but those who paid, expected recom- mendations to places ?” “Yes—and they got them too. I copied the addresses of persons advertising in the morning papers for domestics; and that was the way I ma- ed.” responded “But the thing could scarcely last,” said Limber. ‘No more it did,” replied Bealby, with a swile: “or else I should be carrying i¢ on now. I was rather too fond of some of the pretty servant-girls that came to pay their fees; and betwixt you and me, Ben, the concern was suddenly broken up by an unplessant little incident which occurred.” ‘“* How ao?” asked Limber. “The fact is, I was had up before the magis- trato on an accusation of trying to snatch a kiss from a certain pair of red lips: an investigation followed—the way in which the business was trans- acted was brought to light—and while passing s month at the House of Correction on account of the kissing affair, I had ample leisure to reflect on what should be the new dodge.” “And what did you do then?” asked Bex Limber. “TI eame out of prison in such precious bad plight,” responded Mr. Bealby, “that I was scarcely fit fur anything except to make myself a victim.” “A vietim !” ejaculated Ben. “A victim of what ?” “ A victim of religious persecution,” answered Mr. Bealby. ‘ Don’t you sec, I was a tradesman 2 aw o > ee ee —' 159 upon for Church-rates ; and resisting the claim upon principle, was made a martyr to the cause. I had come up to London to get some Member to present a petition te Parliament on my behalf; but being reduced to distress, was obliged to apply to the sitting magistrate at one of the police-courte— taking very good care, however, not to address myself to the worsbipful gentleman who had com- mitted me in the kissing case. Well, my story was believed: I had ten shillings given moe from the poor-box; and the next day the caso was in all the papers. ‘ Respectable man’—‘ distressod and careworn appearance ’—and all that sort of thing. It told admirably ; and subscriptions poured in. ‘A.B.C.’ sent two pounds; ‘ A Lady’ five pounds; ‘the Earl of X’ ten pounds; ‘ A Dissenter ’ one guinea ; and so forth. An eldorly Quaker forreted me out and took me to his house. [I received the first subscriptions from the magistrate: they still kept pouring in—but I never got any more; for his worship in the meantime had written to the north, and bad learnt that my tale was a puro fabrication. The Quaker resented a little Yami- liarity of which I was guilty towards his pretty demure-looking daughter, from whose lips I sought a kiss; and so, all things c nsidered, 1 was com- pelled to beat a retreat into another neighbour. hood.” “And what did you do then?” inquired Ben Limber. “J could not immediately settle my mind to anything,” answered Mr. Bealby; “and so the money slipped away bofore I was well-prepared with a scheme for making more. At last, driven by necessity, I took to penny-a-lining for a sport- ing newspaper. It was hard work enough: but I got a good insight into turf-matters—though I did not much relish the vocation. I was thinkiug of giving up the newspaper—when a vacaucy for a Prophet suddenly occurrod.” “A Prophet ?” ejaculated Ben Limber, his eyes staring wide with astonishment, “'Yes—to be sure!” said his friend coully—“ a Prophet at a weekly salary of two guineas. You don't twig, Ieee. Well then, I mean a Prophot to predict the winning horses at all forthcoming races.” “ Ab, I understand !” said Ben Limber. how Jong did you keep that situation ?” “Only six months,” responded Mr. Bealby: “for the truth is that in no single instance did I ever predict accurately. Not that in this respeot I was in any way worse than the Prophets on other newspapers—only the proprietor of the one to which I belonged was rather particular, and he thought that a prophet ought to predict right at least once out of twenty times. So he disobarged me; and I was again thrown upon the world.” “And what did you do then,” asked Ben Limber. “I got up a Benefit Society,” replied Mr. Bealby. “ A Benefit Society ?” echoed his friend. “ For whose benefit ?” _ “For my own,” was the response. “It was ostensibly for the advantage of the working-classes —but in reality for mine. Every one who paid a few pence a week was to have fifteen shillings a wock during illness—to be buried, when he died, “¢ But from the north of England who had been distrained | with a good walking funeral, and his widow to GOnNGIOOKSHeOn