Vanity Fair

of Queen

r Pitt, Baronet, Great Gaunt Street, and Queen's Crawley, Hants. This honourable name had figured constantly also in the Parli

that she forthwith erected Crawley into a borough to send two members to Parliament; and the place, from the day of that illustrious visit, took the name of Queen's Crawley, which it holds up to the present moment. And though, by the lapse of time, and those mutations which age produces in empires, cities, and boro

mander of the reign of Queen Anne. The family tree (which hangs up at Queen's Crawley) furthermore mentions Charles Stuart, afterwards called Barebones Crawley, son of the Crawley of James the First's time; and finally, Queen Elizabeth's Crawley, who is represented as the foreground of the picture in his forked beard and armour. Out of his waistcoat, as usual, grows a tree, on the

rom the Prince of Wales's friend, whom his Majesty George IV forgot so completely. Many years after her ladyship's demise, Sir Pitt led to the altar Rosa, daughter of Mr. G. Dawson, of Mudbury, by whom he had two daughters, for whose benefit Miss Reb

, in a note which was written upon an old enve

idge may be hear on Tuesday, as I leaf fo

Gaunt

reet), she began to depict in her own mind what a Baronet must be. "I wonder, does he wear a star?" thought she, "or is it only lords that wear stars? But he will be very handsomely dressed in a court suit, with ruffles, and his hair a little powdered, like Mr. Wroughton at Covent Garden. I suppose he will be awfully proud, and that I shal

hatchment over the middle drawing-room window; as is the custom of houses in Great Gaunt Street, in which gloomy locality death seems to reign perpetual. The shut

e bell was rung, a head appeared between the interstices of the dining-room shutters, and the door was opened by a man in drab breeches and gaiters, with a dirty old

awley's?" says Jo

e man at the d

e 'ere trunks t

yourself," s

ome beer," said John, with a horse-laugh, for he was no longer respectful to Miss Sharp, as her con

s pockets, advanced on this summons, and throwing Miss S

s Sharp, and descended from the carriage in much indignation. "I shall w

u. Shut the door, Jim, you'll get no good out of 'ER," continued John, pointing with his thumb towards Miss Sharp: "a bad lot, I tell you, a bad lot," and so sayi

ed sulkily under the sideboard: the pictures have hidden their faces behind old sheets of brown paper: the ceiling lamp is muffled up in a dismal sack of brown holland: the window-curtains have disappeared under all sorts of shabby envelopes: the marble bust of Sir Walpole Crawley is looking from its black corner a

hered round the fire-place, as was a saucepan over a feeble sputtering fire. There was a bit of

e? It is not too warm for

Crawley?" said Miss

bringing down your luggage. He, he! Ask Tinker if I aynt. Mrs

paper of tobacco, for which she had been despatched a minute before Miss Sharp's arri

"I gave you three halfpence.

nging down the coin; "it's only b

ven shillings a year is the interest of seven guineas. Take care of

n," said Mrs. Tinker, surlily; "because he looks t

d the old gentleman, with an air almost of po

a farthing in his li

and get another chair from the kitchen, Tinker, if you

into pretty equal portions, and of which he partook with Mrs. Tinker. "You see, Miss Sharp, when I'm not here Tinker's on board wages: when

rk, he lighted the rushlight in the tin candlestick, and producing from an intermi

how it happens that I shall have the pleasure o

ess," said Mrs. Tinker, t

dder and another versus Crawley, Bart. Overseers of Snaily parish against Crawley, Bart. They can't prove it's common: I'll defy 'em; the land's mine. It no more belongs to the parish than it does to you or Tinker here. I'll beat 'e

k the law of every one of her tradesmen; and

ime. Whatever Sir Pitt Crawley's qualities might be, good or bad, he did not make the least disguise of them. He talked of himself incessantly, sometimes in the coarsest and vulgarest Hampshire accent; sometimes adopting the tone of a man

u might have fancied, not only that Lady Crawley died in the room, but that her ghost inhabited it. Rebecca sprang about the apartment, however, with the greatest liveliness, and had peeped into the huge wardrobes, and the closets, and the cupboards, and tried the drawers which were locked, and examined the dreary pictures and

awake for a long, long time, thinking of the morrow, and of the new world into which she was going, and of her chances of success there. The rushlight flickered in the basin. The mantelpiece cast up a great black shadow, over half of a mouldy

(the clanging and clapping whereof startled the sleeping echoes in the street), and taking her way into Oxford Street, summoned a coach from a stand there. It is needless to particularize the number of the vehicle, or to state

the worthy Baronet whom he drove to the City did not give him one single penny more than his fare. It was in vain that Jehu appea

d one of the ostlers; "

ronet, approvingly; "and I'd

sulkily, and mounting the Baronet

at, and rage in his soul (for he had promised the box to a young gentleman from Cambridge, who would have given a crown to a certaint

ers' entry of Fleet-Market, which, with Exeter 'Change, has now departed to the world of shadows-how they passed the White Bear in Piccadilly, and saw the dew rising up from the market-gardens of Knightsbridge-how Turnhamgreen, Brentwood, Bagshot, were passed-need not be told here. But the writer of these pages, who has pursued in former days, and in the same bright weather, the same remarkable journey, cannot but think of it with a sweet and tender regret. Where is the road now, and its merry incidents of life? Is there no Chelsea or Greenwich for the old honest pimple-nosed coachmen? I wonder where are they, those good fellows? Is old Weller alive or dead? and the waiters, yea, and the inns at which they waited, and the cold rounds of beef inside, and the stunted ostler, with his blue nose and clinking pail, where i