Sir, in arf a jiffy, as you is touched in the legs with the rheumatics, or summat like it; but besides you and a old gent on crutches from Portland Buildings, there ain’t no real invalid public ’ere at all, and one can’t expect to make a livin’ out of you two; for if you mean to do the thing ever so ’ansome, it ain’t reasonable to expect you and the old gent I was a referring to, to stand seven hours a day goin’ up and down the Esplanade between you, and you see even that at a bob an hour ain’t no great shakes when you come to pay for ‘ousing her and keepin’ her lookin’ spic and span, with all her brass knobs a shining and her leather apron fresh polished with patent carriage blackin’:  and Lor, Sir, you’d not b’lieve me if I was to tell you what a deal of show some parties expects for their one bob an hour.  Why, it was only the other day that Lady GLUMPLEY (a old party with a front of black curls and yaller bows in her bonnet, as I dare say you’ve noticed me a haulin’ up and down the Parade when the band’s a playin’), says to me, says she, ‘It ain’t so much the easy goin’ of your chair, Mr. WISTERWHISTLE, as makes me patronise it, as its general genteel appearance.  For there’s many a chair at Brighton that can’t hold a candle to it!’” But at this point he was interrupted by the appearance of a dense crowd that half filled the street, and drew up in silent expectation opposite my front door.  Dear me, I had quite forgotten I had sent for him.  But the boy who cleans the boots and knives has returned, and brought with him the One Policeman!

* * * * *

THE BOY THE FATHER OF THE MAN.

(A CHAPTER FROM A SEA STORY OF THE FUTURE.)

“Lash the lubber to the top-gallant yard and give him five hundred with the cat o’ ninetails!” shouted the pirate Captain, blue with passion.

There was a murmur amongst his crew.  Because their messmate had forgotten to touch his cap, it seemed hard to their poor untutored minds he should receive so heavy a punishment.

“What, mutiny!” cried the ruffian skipper, “here take this and this and this!” and he distributed the contents of his revolver amongst the sailors aft.

In the meanwhile, the poor wretch was hanging to the topgallant yard, expecting every moment to be his last.

“A sail, Sir,” said the boatswain, saluting, as he mounted to the quarter-deck.

“Get ready the torpedoes, and serve out per man a hundredweight of smokeless powder cartridges.  We shall have rough work.”  Then he added, “By the way, what is the time?”

“About half-past two, Sir,” returned the other, and then, as his Captain made an unsuccessful grab, he muttered, “No you don’t!”

The ship in pursuit came on apace, and soon the two vessels were yard-arm to yard-arm engaged in mortal combat.  For a while the confusion was so great that it was impossible to say what would be the upshot.  But a fortunate torpedo sent the pirate craft to the bottom, and of all her crew, only the skipper survived.  He was brought (loaded with chains) before his conqueror.