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afforded　him；　of　performing　to　his　heart's　content　on　the　first

violin。







MR。　ROBERT　BOLTON：　　THE　'GENTLEMAN　CONNECTED　WITH　THE　PRESS'







In　the　parlour　of　the　Green　Dragon；　a　public…house　in　the　immediate

neighbourhood　of　Westminster　Bridge；　everybody　talks　politics；

every　evening；　the　great　political　authority　being　Mr。　Robert

Bolton；　an　individual　who　defines　himself　as　'a　gentleman　connected

with　the　press；'　which　is　a　definition　of　peculiar　indefiniteness。

Mr。　Robert　Bolton's　regular　circle　of　admirers　and　listeners　are　an

undertaker；　a　greengrocer；　a　hairdresser；　a　baker；　a　large　stomach

surmounted　by　a　man's　head；　and　placed　on　the　top　of　two

particularly　short　legs；　and　a　thin　man　in　black；　name；　profession；

and　pursuit　unknown；　who　always　sits　in　the　same　position；　always

displays　the　same　long；　vacant　face；　and　never　opens　his　lips；

surrounded　as　he　is　by　most　enthusiastic　conversation；　except　to

puff　forth　a　volume　of　tobacco　smoke；　or　give　vent　to　a　very

snappy；　loud；　and　shrill　HEM！　　The　conversation　sometimes　turns

upon　literature；　Mr。　Bolton　being　a　literary　character；　and　always

upon　such　news　of　the　day　as　is　exclusively　possessed　by　that

talented　individual。　　I　found　myself　（of　course；　accidentally）　in

the　Green　Dragon　the　other　evening；　and；　being　somewhat　amused　by

the　following　conversation；　preserved　it。



'Can　you　lend　me　a　ten…pound　note　till　Christmas？'　inquired　the

hairdresser　of　the　stomach。



'Where's　your　security；　Mr。　Clip？'



'My　stock　in　trade；　…　there's　enough　of　it；　I'm　thinking；　Mr。

Thicknesse。　　Some　fifty　wigs；　two　poles；　half…a…dozen　head　blocks；

and　a　dead　Bruin。'



'No；　I　won't；　then；'　growled　out　Thicknesse。　　'I　lends　nothing　on

the　security　of　the　whigs　or　the　Poles　either。　　As　for　whigs；

they're　cheats；　as　for　the　Poles；　they've　got　no　cash。　　I　never

have　nothing　to　do　with　blockheads；　unless　I　can't　awoid　it

（ironically）；　and　a　dead　bear's　about　as　much　use　to　me　as　I　could

be　to　a　dead　bear。'



'Well；　then；'　urged　the　other；　'there's　a　book　as　belonged　to　Pope；

Byron's　Poems；　valued　at　forty　pounds；　because　it's　got　Pope's

identical　scratch　on　the　back；　what　do　you　think　of　that　for

security？'



'Well；　to　be　sure！'　cried　the　baker。　　'But　how　d'ye　mean；　Mr。

Clip？'



'Mean！　why；　that　it's　got　the　HOTTERGRUFF　of　Pope。





〃Steal　not　this　book；　for　fear　of　hangman's　rope；

For　it　belongs　to　Alexander　Pope。〃





All　that's　written　on　the　inside　of　the　binding　of　the　book；　so；　as

my　son　says；　we're　BOUND　to　believe　it。'



'Well；　sir；'　observed　the　undertaker；　deferentially；　and　in　a　half…

whisper；　leaning　over　the　table；　and　knocking　over　the

hairdresser's　grog　as　he　spoke；　'that　argument's　very　easy　upset。'



'Perhaps；　sir；'　said　Clip；　a　little　flurried；　'you'll　pay　for　the

first　upset　afore　you　thinks　of　another。'



'Now；'　said　the　undertaker；　bowing　amicably　to　the　hairdresser；　'I

THINK；　I　says　I　THINK　…　you'll　excuse　me；　Mr。　Clip；　I　THINK；　you

see；　that　won't　go　down　with　the　present　company　…　unfortunately；

my　master　had　the　honour　of　making　the　coffin　of　that　ere　Lord's

housemaid；　not　no　more　nor　twenty　year　ago。　　Don't　think　I'm　proud

on　it；　gentlemen；　others　might　be；　but　I　hate　rank　of　any　sort。

I've　no　more　respect　for　a　Lord's　footman　than　I　have　for　any

respectable　tradesman　in　this　room。　　I　may　say　no　more　nor　I　have

for　Mr。　Clip！　（bowing）。　　Therefore；　that　ere　Lord　must　have　been

born　long　after　Pope　died。　　And　it's　a　logical　interference　to

defer；　that　they　neither　of　them　lived　at　the　same　time。　　So　what　I

mean　is　this　here；　that　Pope　never　had　no　book；　never　seed；　felt；

never　smelt　no　book　（triumphantly）　as　belonged　to　that　ere　Lord。

And；　gentlemen；　when　I　consider　how　patiently　you　have　'eared　the

ideas　what　I　have　expressed；　I　feel　bound；　as　the　best　way　to

reward　you　for　the　kindness　you　have　exhibited；　to　sit　down　without

saying　anything　more　…　partickler　as　I　perceive　a　worthier　visitor

nor　myself　is　just　entered。　　I　am　not　in　the　habit　of　paying

compliments；　gentlemen；　when　I　do；　therefore；　I　hope　I　strikes　with

double　force。'



'Ah；　Mr。　Murgatroyd！　what's　all　this　about　striking　with　double

force？'　said　the　object　of　the　above　remark；　as　he　entered。　　'I

never　excuse　a　man's　getting　into　a　rage　during　winter；　even　when

he's　seated　so　close　to　the　fire　as　you　are。　　It　is　very

injudicious　to　put　yourself　into　such　a　perspiration。　　What　is　the

cause　of　this　extreme　physical　and　mental　excitement；　sir？'



Such　was　the　very　philosophical　address　of　Mr。　Robert　Bolton；　a

shorthand…writer；　as　he　termed　himself　…　a　bit　of　equivoque　passing

current　among　his　fraternity；　which　must　give　the　uninitiated　a

vast　idea　of　the　establishment　of　the　ministerial　organ；　while　to

the　initiated　it　signifies　that　no　one　paper　can　lay　claim　to　the

enjoyment　of　their　services。　　Mr。　Bolton　was　a　young　man；　with　a

somewhat　sickly　and　very　dissipated　expression　of　countenance。　　His

habiliments　were　composed　of　an　exquisite　union　of　gentility；

slovenliness；　assumption；　simplicity；　NEWNESS；　and　old　age。　　Half

of　him　was　dressed　for　the　winter；　the　other　half　for　the　summer。

His　hat　was　of　the　newest　cut；　the　D'Orsay；　his　trousers　had　been

white；　but　the　inroads　of　mud　and　ink；　etc。；　had　given　them　a　pie…

bald　appearance；　round　his　throat　he　wore　a　very　high　black　cravat；

of　the　most　tyrannical　stiffness；　while　his　TOUT　ENSEMBLE　was

hidden　beneath　the　enormous　folds　of　an　old　brown　poodle…collared

great…coat；　which　was　closely　buttoned　up　to　the　aforesaid　cravat。

His　fingers　peeped　through　the　ends　of　his　black　kid　gloves；　and

two　of　the　toes　of　each　foot　took　a　similar　view　of　society　through

the　extremities　of　his　high…lows。　　Sacred　to　the　bare　walls　of　his

garret　be　the　mysteries　of　his　interior　dress！　　He　was　a　short；

spare　man；　of　a　somewhat　inferior　deportment。　　Everybody　seemed

influenced　by　his　entry　into　the　room；　and　his　salutation　of　each

member　partook　of　the　patronizing。　　The　hairdresser　made　way　for

him　between　himself　and　the　stomach。　　A　minute　afterwards　he　had

taken　possession　of　his　pint　and　pipe。　　A　pause　in　the　conversation

took　place。　　Everybody　was　waiting；　anxious　for　his　first

observation。



'Horrid　murder　in　Westminster　this　morning；'　observed　Mr。　Bolton。



Everybody　changed　their　positions。　　All　eyes　were　fixed　upon　the

man　of　paragraphs。



'A　baker　murdered　his　son　by　boiling　him　in　a　copper；'　said　Mr。

Bolton。



'Good　heavens！'　exclaimed　everybody；　in　simultaneous　horror。



'Boiled　him；　gentlemen！'　added　Mr。　Bolton；　with　the　most　effective

emphasis；　'BOILED　him！'



'And　the　particulars；　Mr。　B。；'　inquired　the　hairdresser；　'the

particulars？'



Mr。　Bolton　took　a　very　long　draught　of　porter；　and　some　two　or

three　dozen　whiffs　of　tobacco；　doubtless　to　instil　into　the

commercial　capacities　of　the　company　the　superiority　of　a　gentlemen

connected　with　the　press；　and　then　said　…



'The　man　was　a　baker；　gentlemen。'　　（Every　one　looked　at　the　baker

present；　who　stared　at　Bolton。）　　'His　victim；　being　his　son；　also

was　necessarily　the　son　of　a　baker。　　The　wretched　murderer　had　a

wife；　whom　he　was　frequently　in　the　habit；　while　in　an　intoxicated

state；　of　kicking；　pummelling；　flinging　mugs　at；　knocking　down；　and

half…killing　while　in　bed；　by　inserting　in　her　mouth　a　considerable

portion　of　a　sheet　or　blanket。'



The　speaker　took　another　draught；　everybody　looked　at　everybody

else；　and　exclaimed；　'Horrid！'



'It　appears　in　evidence；　gentlemen；'　continued　Mr。　Bolton；　'that；

on　the　evening　of　yesterday；　Sawyer　the　baker　came　home　in　a

reprehensible　state　of　beer。　　Mrs。　S。；　connubially　considerate；

carried　him　in　that　condition　up…stairs　into　his　chamber；　and

consigned　him　to　their　mutual　couch。　　In　a　minute　or　two　she　lay

sleeping　beside　the　man　whom　the　morrow's　dawn　beheld　a　murderer！'

（Entire　silence　informed　the　reporter　that　his　picture　had　attained

the　awful　effect　he　desired。）　　'The　son　came　home　about　an　hour

afterwards；　opened　the　door；　and　went　up　to　bed。　　Scarcely

（gentlemen；　conceive　his　feelings　of　alarm）；　scarcely　had　he　taken

off　his　indescribables；　when　shrieks　（to　his　experienced　ear

MATERNAL　shrieks）　scared　the　silence　of　surrounding　night。　　He　put

his　indescribables　on　again；　and　ran　down…stairs。　　He　opened　the

door　of　the　parental　bed…chamber。　　His　father　was　dancing　upon　his

mother。　　What　must　have　been　his　feelings！　　In　the　agony　of　the

minute　he　rushed　at　his　male　parent　as　he　was　about　to　plunge　a

knife　into　the　side　of　his　female。　　The　mother　shrieked。　　The

father　caught　the　son　（who　had　wrested　the　knife　from　the　paternal

grasp）　up　in　his　arms；　carried　him　down…stairs；　shoved　him　into　a

copper　of　boiling　water　among　some　linen；　closed　the　lid；　and

jumped　upon　the　top　of　it；　in　which　position　he　was　found　with　a

ferocious　countenance　by　the　mother；　who　arrived　in　the　melanc