SIXTY YEARS OF THE LIFE

OF

JEREMY LEVIS.

BOOK FIRST.

CHAPTER I.

Juno Lucina, fer opem! serva me, obsecro!

TER.-And.

DEAR READER-If you have ever read at all, you must have read of certain countries, where, whensoever an addition is about to be made, in the natural way, to the number of the inhabitants, every circumstance attending the entrance of the new comer is observed and remembered as an omen of his future good or bad fortune. Now, with your free leave, it is a most excellent custom, and one which I shall strictly observe in recording the birth of the proper subject of these memoirs that is to say, of my own proper, masculine self.

Be pleased then to sketch, upon the tablet of your fancy, as vile a little village, and in as vile a site, as your pure imagination will permit. Well-follow my finger whilst I indicate certain spots therein worthy of your VOL, I. 2

attention. Here, on the right-next neighbour to that spireless church-you have a long, low house. You see it displays some little regard to cleanliness. It is indeed no other than the parsonage. Now look at that one-eyed dwelling, at the end of the street-directly facing you— there. What says its sign?

MEG. HAndy. daRY.

wOMan. anD. MIDWIFE.

n.B. GooD. attENshun. to. Kow S. anD.

That speaks for itself.

laDEES.

Now put by the picture, and I will commence my history.

One morning, in the month of January, and year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight, a young woman was seen standing beneath Meg's comfortable sign. I say seen, inasmuch as the noise she made, by using her fist as a drumstick on Mrs. Handy's door, had drawn to the neighbouring windows many a curious face-though the day had scarcely broke. The truth is, our village, like all other villages, was famous for the number of its newspapers. I do not mean those dirty, black and white articles, which we cannot open without first opening our pockets; but those respectable, elderly ladies, whose business it is to gather, polish, and arrange all the news of the day, and, when thus prepared, to retail it for the mere asking. In sooth, they are a generous race, and have their enemies; but they who love the "dissemination of knowledge" love the gossips, and—so do I.

No wonder then, that the noise made by Meg's customer should produce such a sensation among Meg's neighbours. As soon as the former's fist commenced knocking, a dozen noses simultaneously ceased snoring— off jumped a dozen coverlets-down on their respective supporters leaped a dozen bodies-up flew a dozen windows-and, ere a second had elapsed, out popped a dozen night-capped heads.

CH. I.

LIFE OF JEREMY LEVIS.

15

"Who is it, young woman? who is it?" screamed out a dozen voices.

"None of your business!" was the ready answer. "You'd best keep your tongues in doors, neighbors !— Meg! Meg Handy! why Meg, I say! get up, you old

The last word of this gentle exhortation was either clipped off by the frost, or swallowed through dread of it; for not one of the twenty-four ears could catch it. Presently Meg's solitary window opened, and out peeped a flannel night-cap of uncertain color, beneath whose greasy folds a pair of rheumy eyes might be seen, opening and shutting their rugose lids with the most be witching modesty; whilst between them a barometer, in the form of a nose of portentous magnitude, thrust forth its purple sign of cold weather. A wrinkled mouth followed this latter, within whose ample folds grinned two or three fangs, that no one, however envious, would have taken for artificial.

"Who's there?" began Meg's throat forte. "O! it's you, is it, Betty? The parson's lady is heh? oh, I understand, I understand!-Yes, yes, I'm coming, Betty! wait a moment, my dear!" concluded Mrs. Handy's voice piano.

What a happy thing it is, that we are beings so susceptible! Do you not think so, Reader?—You seem to hesitate, as though you do not altogether comprehend me. Well, I will explain. Suppose that Mistress Meg Handy, Dairy Woman, etc., had been less susceptible: suppose, I say, that being, as was natural, somewhat irritated at the necessity of quitting her warm bed on a cold winter's morning, the sight of a customer had been unable to warm her—that is, to soothe her irritated feeling-what would have been the consequence? Would not the gentle Betty have forgot her nature and waxed wroth? and would not Meg have been injured thereby?

16

You nod assent.

SIXTY YEARS OF THE

BK. I.

Well then, is it not a happy thing that we are beings so susceptible?

-I don't know that, Mr. Author; we are not all dairy-women, nor midwives.

Very true, Mr. Reader; but we are all Mrs. Handies, however. Why, I remember that when I was a schoolboy, I made it a regular rule never to learn my lessons on quarter-day,-and why, forsooth? Because, just as the master was meditating an assault upon my breeches' buttons, I would meekly present the amount of his bill, and in an instant would he "unknit his threatening brows," and smile as sweetly as a May morning after clouds. Now, all this is a proof of the amiability of human nature. Reader! are you satisfied?

After the lapse of a few minutes, the honorable Mrs. Handy, Dairy-woman and Midwife, was seen accompanying the honoured Miss Betty, Chamber-maid and Errand-girl, with the most condescending and envied familiarity.

This was all the dozen heads had waited for. Down went the dozen windows; and in less than half an hour afterwards, the whole village was talking of babies. Oh, those gossips are useful creatures!

The affectionate pair found the family of the Reverend Mr. Levis in the greatest excitement. Some of its members were seen running up and down stairs on tiptoe, with their fore-finger on their close-drawn lips, as though they themselves were about to be delivered-of some mighty secret. These were all females. Others were sitting in silent agitation, with their eyes and ears wide open,-looking occasionally at one another, as though each sus. pected her neighbour might know more of the matter than herself. These too were all females.-While the only male in the house, the Reverend parson himself, was measuring, with rapid yet noiseless steps, the length and