on his sorrow, grief, and woe.  She was very advanced in wordly science, as young ladies are apt to be when they are educated in the retail liquor trade.  When Smithers had been several years at the inn, and Jemima was already in her teens, she thought the world went slowly; she had no lover, there was nobody coming to marry her, nobody coming to woo.  But at length she was determined to find a remedy for this state of things.  She had never read the history of the loves of the great Catherine of Russia, nor of those of our own virgin Queen Elizabeth, but by an inborn royal instinct she was impelled to follow their high example.  If lovers did not offer their adoration to her charms spontaneously, there was at any rate one whose homage she could command.  One Sunday afternoon, while her mother was absent, she went to the stable and ordered Smithers to come and take a walk with her, directing him first to polish his shoes and put on his best clothes.  She brought out a bottle of scented oil to sweeten him, and told him to rub it well into his hair, and stroke his head with his hands until it was sleek and shiny.  She had put on her Sunday dress and best bonnet; she had four ringlets at each side of her face; and to crown her charms, had ventured to borrow her mother’s gold watch and chain.  Being now a perfect princess in stateliness and beauty, she took Jack by the arm—­she called him Jack—­and made him march away with her.  He was rather abashed at the new duty imposed upon him, but he had been so well kicked and cuffed all his life that he never thought of disobeying orders.  Love fooled the gods, and it gave him little trouble to fool so sorry a pair as Jack and his Jemima.  They walked along Perkins’ Lane where many of the neighbours were likely to see them, for Jemima was anxious that all the other girls, her dearest friends, should be filled with spite and envy at her good fortune in having secured a lover.

When the happy youth and maid were returning with wandering steps and slow, Jemima saw her mother pass the end of the lane on her way homewards, much sooner than she had expected.  The golden hours on angel wings had flown away too quickly for the lovers.  Miss Cobbledick was filled with sudden alarm, and her brief day of glory was clouded.  It was now impossible to reach home in time to avoid trouble.  Her mother would be certain to miss the watch, and what was she to do with it?  What with Jack, and what with herself?  Self-preservation being the first law of nature, Jemima resolved to sacrifice Jack in order to shield herself from her mother’s rage.  He was not of much account in any respect; so she gave him the watch and chain, telling him to keep them safely till she asked for them, and to hurry round by the yard gate into the stable.  This gave great relief to her conscience, and enabled her to meet her mother with a face of untroubled innocence.

Jack had not a lively imagination; but during the night he had a clear and blissful vision of his future destiny, the only dream of fortune his life was ever blessed with.  He was to be the landlord of the hotel, when Mrs. Cobbledick had gone to bliss, and Jemima was to be his bride, and the landlady.