THE RESUSCITATED.
Touching was the scene in the bed-chamber at the house in Red Lion
Street,—that scene which the return of the Earl of Ellingham,
accompanied by Mr. de Medina, was to render more touching still.
But previously to their arrival, the group was interesting and must be
specially noticed.
Rainford was seated in the bed, propped up with the pillows; for he
still felt very weak, though all danger had completely passed.
Standing by his side, with one hand locked in his, was Tamar, clad in
deep mourning—a mourning now no longer necessary, and which covered a
heart beating with ineffable joy.
Dr. Lascelles and Esther de Medina were also standing close by the bed;
and Jacob Smith was leaning over the foot-board, surveying Rainford with
eyes dimmed by tears, and in a kind of wonderment as if he were scarcely
able to convince himself of the miracle the _living evidence_ of which
was before him.
The hearts of all were too full for connected discourse; for even the
doctor himself was more moved by the incidents in which he had that day
performed so prominent a part, than ever he had felt before.
At length Tamar turned towards her sister, and said in a low, tremulous
tune, "Do you think, dear Esther, that Lord Ellingham will succeed—can
you hope it?"
"I have every hope," replied Esther, firmly. "His lordship suggested a
plan by which all our father's scruples may be overcome."
"And by which we shall not be separated, save for a few days, Tamar,"
observed Rainford.
"I would not quit you even for an hour," answered the elder sister,
emphatically; "were it not that I was previously assured of being
speedily re-united to you."
Rainford pressed her hand tenderly.
"If my friend Arthur does not succeed with Mr. de Medina," said Dr.
Lascelles, "I must go myself, and see what I can do. But I confess that
I should despair of producing any effect, were Arthur's eloquence to
fail."
"Hark!" cried Jacob Smith: "the front door opens!"
The physician hastened to assure himself that no unwelcome step was
approaching; and the sisters exchanged looks indicative of the most
acute suspense.
"Bravo!" cried the good doctor, returning in a few moments, and clapping
his hands together.
But before he had time to give any explanation as to the cause of a joy
so unusual in one of his calm and unexcitable disposition, footsteps
approached the room.
The eyes of Rainford, the sisters, and Jacob Smith were anxiously cast
towards the door.
Lord Ellingham entered first—his countenance radiant with joy. Another
moment—and Tamar bounded forward to meet her sire, in whose arms she was
immediately received.
"Oh! my dear—dear father!" exclaimed Tamar; "is it possible that you can
forgive me—that this happiness is not a dream?"
"Let the past be forgotten, my child!" said Mr. de Medina, pressing her
again and again to his breast: for now that she _was_ forgiven, all the
long-smothered generosity and tenderness of his heart in respect to her
revived with fresh vigour. "And you, Esther, my well-beloved," he added,
"come also and share your father's joy that the day of pardon has at
length arrived!"
Most affecting was the scene. The physician pretended to be busily
occupied in wiping his eye-glass; but the tears fell fast upon
it:—Rainford and Lord Ellingham both wept aloud; and Jacob Smith
whimpered like a little child.
At last the party grew somewhat composed; and Mr. de Medina advanced
towards the bed.
"Mr. Rainford," he said, extending his hand, which the resuscitated
highwayman grasped with grateful warmth, "to you also do I say, '_Let
the past be forgotten_.' From the very bottom of my heart do I forgive
you; and this forgiveness I the more readily accord, because I learn
that your conduct has been uniformly kind and tender towards my
daughter,—because you are prepared to make her your wife according to
the ritual of your creed,—and also because I have heard from your noble
relative—far more noble in nature even than in name—that you have
manifested so many proofs of an excellent heart and a generous
disposition towards _him_, that it is impossible not to admire your
behaviour in this respect. I have now said all that I intend to utter
upon these subjects; for if I be stern and severe in my displeasure, I
am equally sincere and profound in my forgiveness."
"My dear Earl," whispered Dr. Lascelles, in the most solemn manner
possible, and in a tone audible only to himself and the young nobleman,
"I did not think of asking you for any reward for all I have this day
done to serve you and yours. But I am so charmed with this Jew, who
positively shows more good feeling than many Christians whom I know,
that I would give any thing to possess a cast of his head. Do you
think——"
"Depend upon it, my dear Doctor, I will not forget your wish," said the
Earl, smiling: "but you must admit that this is not precisely the time
to ask a favour of so delicate a nature."
"True!" observed Lascelles. "And yet the interests of science——"
"Hush!" said Lord Ellingham: "you will be overheard."
As soon as the party were sufficiently composed to deliberate upon the
course now to be adopted, considering the position of Rainford, a solemn
conclave was held.
The results of the council may be thus summed up:—Dr. Lascelles, feeling
convinced that Rainford was totally out of danger, proposed to return
without delay to the West End, to visit his patients who would be
otherwise astonished and vexed at his absence. Mr. de Medina was to
repair home with his two daughters: and while the young ladies made all
the necessary arrangements for the trip to France, their father
undertook to proceed to Dover, and secure a sailing-vessel to be in
readiness by the time that Lord Ellingham and Rainford should reach that
port. Mr. de Medina would then return to London to fetch his daughters;
and the family would follow the half-brothers as speedily as possible to
Paris. On his side, Lord Ellingham expressed his intention of remaining
with Rainford until the moment for their departure together should
arrive. Jacob Smith was to stay also in the house in Red Lion Street,
and to accompany Tom Rain not only to France, but also to America; for
the poor lad was devotedly attached to him, and Rainford felt it almost
a duty to remove the youth from the scene of his former temptations and
miseries.
Dr. Lascelles accordingly quitted the house, first having promised to
see Rainford again next day. Mr. de Medina and his daughters next took
their departure, Tamar having taken a tender farewell of him whom she
loved, and whom, according to present arrangements, she was not to meet
again until they arrived in Paris. As for Esther, ere she turned to quit
the room, she gave her hand to Rainford, who respectfully touched it
with his lips.
At length the Earl and Jacob were left together with the resuscitated
highwayman, who now lost no time in narrating to them the particulars of
his visit to that very house a few weeks previously. For when, on
awaking from his deep sleep, he was sufficiently recovered to collect
his scattered ideas,—and when the first emotions attendant upon his
meeting with Tamar had passed,—he had recognised the chamber in which he
was lying. But finding himself under the care and protection of Dr.
Lascelles, whom he had seen, it will be remembered, in the house on the
night of his memorable adventures beneath that roof, he had so far
mastered his surprise and momentary alarm, as to maintain a profound
silence relative to his recognition of the place.
But now that there was leisure to converse on matters of secondary
importance, and that she in whose breast he was fearful of exciting
fears for his safety was no longer present, he detailed at full length
all the particulars with which the reader is acquainted, not even
omitting the impression existing in his mind that Old Death was no more.
Then Lord Ellingham learnt how Rainford had happened to visit the
laboratory when he was disturbed by the entrance of Lascelles; and he
also heard for the first time how his half-brother had recovered his
money, with compound interest, and had obtained all the private papers
proving the history of his birth and the marriage of the late Earl of
Ellingham with Octavia Manners. Jacob, likewise for the first time,
learnt that the very house in which he then was, contained the
store-rooms of Old Death; and he now also ascertained the cause of that
individual's sudden and mysterious disappearance.
Arthur, in his turn, related the entire particulars of the outrage
perpetrated upon him—his imprisonment in a dungeon for four long
weeks—the reason of his writing the laconic letter which Rainford had
received in prison—his escape by means of the sewers—and his suspicion,
in consequence of all he had heard that morning from Dr. Lascelles, that
the scene of his late incarceration was not altogether unconnected with
the mysterious subterranean of that very house.
But conjecture was useless in respect to all these circumstances; and
the only point to which any positive decision could be arrived at, was
the absolute necessity that existed for defending the house from all
intruders so long as Rainford should remain in it.
Jacob Smith went out to purchase refreshments; and Rainford felt himself
so well that he was enabled to make a hearty meal.
Hour after hour passed; and at length evening came.
"Arthur," said Tom Rain, breaking a silence during which he had
partially dozed, and now aroused by a sudden idea that had struck
him,—"Arthur, I have a strange fancy—a whim, which I much desire you
would gratify——"
"Name it, Thomas," returned the nobleman.
"I should like to see the evening paper," continued Tom Rain. "I need
scarcely tell you that never again will the highways of this nor any
other country be rendered dangerous by me—never shall this right hand of
mine perpetrate a crime. My career as a desperate plunderer terminated
this morning—on the roof of the gaol: from the instant of my
resuscitation I date a new term of existence—new in a moral as well as
in a physical sense. But I _should_ like to see what is said of me _in
my last moments_."
For an instant the Earl hesitated—but only for an instant; and Jacob
Smith was sent to purchase the evening newspaper.
In due time he returned; and Rainford sate up in bed _to read the
account of his own execution_!
"I am glad of that!" he exclaimed, as his eyes ran down the column
headed with the awful words—EXECUTION OF THOMAS RAINFORD; and his
countenance became flushed with excitement, as he read aloud, in a tone
that trembled not in the least degree, a few of the sentences which
seemed to give him pleasure:—"_He underwent the dreadful process of
pinioning with extraordinary courage_"—"_his footsteps were as firm as
if anything save a scaffold were his destination_"—"_he ascended the
stairs leading to the roof of the prison with steps that faltered
not_"—"_the same dauntless courage sustained him as he mounted the fatal
ladder which conducted him to the drop_"—"_nor did he once exhibit signs
of fear; no, not even when the executioner descended beneath the
platform to draw the bolt that was to launch him into eternity._"—"_Thus
died a man who possessed a courage that would have rendered him
distinguished had his destinies cast him in the profession of arms._"
"For heaven's sake, no more of this, my dear brother," exclaimed the
Earl, painfully excited.
"Burn the paper, Arthur," said Tom Rain, handing it to the nobleman, and
then throwing himself back on his pillow. "I have seen enough—and never
wish to read that narrative again. But pardon me for having given you
pain; and think not it was any frivolous sentiment of vanity that made
me desirous to peruse the account, or that excited me as I read it. I
merely wished to convince myself that no injustice was done me, Arthur,"
he added, very seriously; "for, of all things, I abominate a coward; and
I confess—it may be a weakness on my part—that I should not like _my
last moments_ to have been misrepresented. But let us talk no more on
this topic—since it gives you pain. And now, by way of changing the
conversation, I will tell you some of the plans I have shadowed out in
my mind. Perhaps they may never be realized:—I hope they may."
Arthur had set fire to the newspaper by means of a lamp which was
burning upon the table; and, having crushed out the expiring flames with
his foot, he drew his chair towards the bed, to listen with attention to
his half-brother.
Jacob Smith leant over the foot-board, anxious to drink in the words
which Rainford was about to utter.
"I have been thinking," resumed this individual, "that my past life
requires a great atonement through the medium of my new existence. I am
not, however, one of those men who turn saints, and who hope to win the
good opinion of the world and the favour of heaven by means of incessant
prayer. No—my ideas are quite at variance with such proceedings. I
believe that one good _deed_ is worth ten thousand _psalms_. It
certainly is more beneficial to our fellow-creatures, and must therefore
be more acceptable to the Almighty. I have been thinking, then, how
pleasant it would be for one who possesses an independence, to employ
his leisure time in seeking out those poor, unhappy beings whom adverse
circumstances, or even their own faults, have plunged into misery. If
they be cast down through misfortunes unconnected with errors, it would
be delightful to aid them: but doubly pleasing must it be to reclaim
those who have erred, and to afford even the felon a chance of quitting
his evil ways and acquiring an honest livelihood."
"Oh! it would—it would, indeed!" ejaculated Jacob Smith, all the
adventures and incidents of his own chequered life rushing to his
memory.
"I have been reflecting, moreover—not merely within the last few
moments," continued Rainford, "but ever since I heard the narrative of
one who became an ill-doer in spite of himself,"—looking significantly
for an instant towards the lad,—"but who struggled successfully at last
against temptation, cruel attempts at coercion, and almost unheard-of
wretchedness,—I have been reflecting, I say, that society is wrong in
refraining from the adoption of strenuous means to reform those whom it
considers to be the most abandoned. The reformist does not enter the
criminal gaol: he considers it to be useless. But whither should he go,
if not _there_? He should reason with himself that it is impossible for
men willingly to cling to the unnatural—the feverish excitement of a
life of incessant crime, if they had any chance of adopting pursuits
unattended with constant peril. Setting aside the morality of the case,
nine-tenths of those very persons who sing the loudest, swear the
hardest, and appear the most depraved, would gladly quit a course that
makes their conscience see a constable in every shadow. I think I can
give you a parallel case, which will fully illustrate my meaning. It is
the custom to vilify the Irish—to declare that they cling with a species
of natural tenacity to their rags, their dirt, and their penury—to
assert that they themselves are the foes to any civilizing principles
which may be applied to them. But look at Irish labourers in
England—look at the Irishman when in _this_ country, supplied with
plenty of work, earning adequate wages, and removed from scenes of
political excitement. Does he not work hard? is he indolent? does he
adhere lovingly to rags and misery? No such thing! Well, then, it is
equally absurd to suppose that criminals cling with affection to crime,
prisons, and an existence harassed by constant apprehensions. Remove the
thief or the housebreaker from the sphere into which circumstances have
cast him, and from which he cannot extricate himself,—give him a chance
of earning an honest livelihood, and of redeeming his character,—and in
nine cases out of ten, he may be reclaimed. There are, of course,
exceptions to all rules; but I am convinced, from all I have seen and
heard, that I am now speaking of a rule, and not of the exceptions.
Well, then, these considerations lead me back to the starting point
which I chose; and I repeat my former words,—that were some man to
devote himself to the visitation not only of the dwellings of the honest
poor, but also the haunts of crime, and the abodes of vice, the deep
sinks of impurity, and even the felons' gaols themselves, he would be
able to effect an immense amount of good. You may be surprised to hear
such sentiments come from my lips——"
"I am delighted—ineffably delighted!" exclaimed Lord Ellingham, speaking
with the enthusiasm of unfeigned joy; "and I agree with every opinion
you have put forth. I see that our laws are miserably deficient, while
they seek only to punish and not to reform—that our legislators are
short-sighted if not actually wicked, in neglecting to adopt means to
prevent crime by reforming the criminal, rather than encourage turpitude
by rendering the criminal a desperate outcast."
"Oh! my dear brother," cried Tom Rain joyfully, "how happy I am to hear
you thus express your adhesion to those theories which I have so rapidly
glanced at. And are not you a legislator of England—an hereditary
legislator? and do you owe nothing to your country? Believe me, when I
declare that were you to apply your intellect—your talents—your
energies, to this great question, you would render your name so
illustrious that the latest posterity would mention it with veneration
and gratitude!"
"Rest well assured, Thomas, that these words of your's shall not be
thrown away upon me," returned Arthur solemnly.
"And, on my side—humble individual that I am, _and that I intend ever to
remain_," added Rainford, with a significant glance towards the Earl,
"my resolution is fixed to make some atonement in another part of the
world for all the bad deeds I have committed in this. Should I reach
America in safety, it will be my task to reduce to practice some of
these theories which I have just now broached; and I believe that the
results will fulfil all my expectations."[26]
"There is no doubt of it—oh! there is no doubt!" exclaimed Jacob Smith,
catching the enthusiasm which now animated him who was _once_—and so
lately—a lawless highwayman, but whom circumstances, and the never
altogether crushed sentiments of a rightly constituted mind, had
suddenly imbued with the hope of atoning for the past by means of the
good which he meditated towards his fellow-creatures.
"Poverty is a fertile source of crime," observed Lord Ellingham; "but
then it is declared that many are poor only through their own idleness.
How are such persons to be reformed? I am prepared to answer the
question. Education will teach them the value of industry, and the
necessity of rendering themselves independent of parochial relief and
eleemosynary assistance. If a child offend, we say, '_He knows no
better_.' The uneducated individual is as ignorant of the real
principles of right and wrong as the lisping child; and therefore must
instruction—not merely religious, but an enlightened species of
education—be provided for the millions."[27]
"It is for you to urge those great and glorious points in the proper
place—in the Parliament of England!" said Rainford: "and, I repeat,
posterity will honour your name!"
"I am not such a hypocrite as to deny the existence of those charms
which a laudable ambition possesses," returned Arthur; "no selfish
considerations will, however, influence me in the public course which I
am now determined to adopt. But I am forgetting, dear Thomas, that this
prolonged discourse on an exciting topic may be prejudicial to you, weak
and enfeebled as you are. Let us not, therefore, pursue the theme at
present: it is now growing late—and you stand in need of repose. Jacob
and myself will watch by your bed-side."
Rainford pressed his brother's hand, and composed himself to woo the
advance of slumber.
In about ten minutes he was fast asleep!
The Earl of Ellingham was seated close by the head of the bed: Jacob
drew a stool near the foot, and the two observed a profound silence.
The Earl looked at his watch: it was half-past ten o'clock.
The lamp burnt upon the table.
Suddenly, slow and heavy steps were heard _beneath_—as if some one were
ascending the flight of stairs under the floor.
Lord Ellingham placed his finger upon his lips to enjoin Jacob to
maintain the strictest silence, and then instantly extinguished the
light.
In another moment some one was heard preparing to raise the trap-door—a
proceeding which Arthur did not attempt to thwart. He knew that if the
person or persons now approaching were debarred the ingress which was
sought, the front door would be the alternative next essayed; and he
therefore resolved that, come what might, he would endeavour to capture
and secure any intruders whose presence threatened in any way to
interfere with his plans.
These calculations were all weighed in a single moment by the energetic
and brave young nobleman.
The trap-door was raised slowly—the carpet was thrust aside from the
aperture by the arm of him who was ascending; and a light suddenly
gleamed from beneath.
[Illustration]
The intruder carried a lamp in his hand.
Arthur and Jacob Smith maintained the most death-like silence—the former
nerved for the trying scene, the latter ready to sink with apprehension
on account of Rainford, who still slept soundly.
Having removed the carpet from the aperture,—a task which occupied
nearly a minute, as the intruder held the lamp in his left hand and was
compelled to support the trap-door in a half-open position with his head
or back, while he worked with the right hand,—the individual—for Lord
Ellingham was by this time pretty well satisfied that only one person
was approaching—prepared to ascend into the room.
But the moment he had removed the carpet, and advanced another step or
two upwards, the lamp was dashed from his hand, and he was violently
seized by the collar, in the powerful grasp of Lord Ellingham, who
exclaimed at the same instant, "Be silent—or you are a dead man!"
The individual thus captured, uttered a low growl, but said nothing.
Then, quick as thought, and with a degree of strength which astonished
even him who exercised it, the Earl dragged the man up the steps into
the room, but fortunately without awaking the soundly-sleeping Rainford.
All this took place amidst the most profound darkness, be it remembered;
but, acting with wonderful energy and presence of mind, Arthur dragged
the man along the floor of the bed-chamber into the laboratory; and
then, without relaxing his hold, he exclaimed, "Jacob, light the lamp
and bring it hither!"
"Jacob!" muttered the prostrate intruder, "Jacob!"
"Silence!" cried the Earl. "You are in the grasp of a desperate man," he
added in a menacing tone; "but if you mean no harm, you will receive no
injury."
Scarcely were these words uttered, when Jacob Smith, having hastily
relighted the lamp, entered the laboratory, closing the door behind
him—for he fully comprehended the Earl's motive in dragging the man,
whoever he might be, away in the dark from the chamber where Rainford
was lying.
But hardly had the light of the lamp fallen upon the countenance of the
individual who was now half-lying—half-sitting on the floor, restrained
by the vigorous grasp of Lord Ellingham, who bent over him,—when Jacob
uttered a cry of mingled horror and alarm, exclaiming, as he staggered
back, "_'Tis Old Death!_"
The lamp fell from his hand, and was instantly extinguished.
-----
Footnote 26:
Mr. Brandon, in his admirable preface to Mr. Miles's work on _Poverty,
Mendicity, and Crime_, places on record the ensuing observations:—
"It is a generally-admitted axiom that among the uneducated, the human
mind is more prone to evil than virtue; how greatly, then, must vice
be disseminated, and the evil propensities encouraged, by persons of
all descriptions, from the hardened murderer to the truant-playing
apprentice, mingling and without one admonitory antidote to check
them, all unemployed, all uneducated in the proper school of morality.
The idlers, tyros in crime, or petty misdemeanants, be they boys or
adults, will listen with eager curiosity to the gossiping of the old
and hardened offenders, while relating to each other the exploits they
had achieved, or when giving instruction how to escape detection in
certain situations, which from their own experience they have been led
to conceive the best, and to hear them plot fresh depredations to be
committed as soon as they shall have finished the term of their
captivity, or be set at large upon a verdict of 'not guilty;' what but
evil can arise from such a state of congregating? the mind cannot fail
to become contaminated in some degree, even in the best disposed among
them; whilst others, incited by the picture of pleasure they have
described in the event of a successful enterprise, and from the
encouragement given to the growing desires by the hardened wretches,
enter recklessly into the path of vice as soon as they have turned
their backs on the prison door; future accomplices and companions of
the 'gaol bird,' who had been their tutor; commencing their career
perhaps by a robbery planned whilst in prison. Minds, not over strong
nor sufficiently guarded by moral education, are easily led astray,
and the very punishment they are enduring as a requital for faults
committed, will be used as the rudder by which they are steered to
crime, in persuading them that they are aggrieved victims instead of
criminals paying the penalty due to offended justice. This is the
certain effect of the present system, and to expect any thing like
repentance or thorough reform in a criminal, would be ridiculous.
"In a work published some time since, which is generally considered
authentic, 'The Autobiography of James Hardy Vaux,' a notorious thief,
is the following anecdote, which, as it corroborates and is
illustrative of the facts above stated, namely, that vice is taught in
prison, is here inserted:—
"He (Vaux) had in a most systematic manner robbed jewellers' shops,
and, as he conceived, every one of note had fallen under his lash. He
was at length taken up for stealing a gold snuff-box, and committed to
Newgate, where he made acquaintance with two brothers, both of the
same profession as his own, and committed for a similar offence; they
were very communicative to each other, and Vaux discovered that there
were some of his favourite shops which had escaped his notice. 'They
pointed out,' says the text, 'about half a dozen shops which it
appeared I had omitted to visit, arising either from their making no
display of their goods, or from their being situated in private
streets where I had no idea of finding such trades. Although I had
little hopes of acquittal, it was agreed that in the event of my being
so fortunate that I should visit these tradesmen I had overlooked, and
I promised, in case I was successful, to make them a pecuniary
acknowledgment in return for their information.' He was further
instructed in what manner to proceed, and what sort of goods to order,
and a Mr. Belger, a first-rate jeweller in Piccadilly, was
particularly recommended to his notice as a _good fiat_. He succeeded
in getting acquitted, and in robbing the shops pointed out to his
notice, when, like a 'man of honour,' he did not fail to perform his
promise to the two brothers—his associates in Newgate. The _good fiat_
he robbed more than once, and once too often, for Vaux was discovered
by him at last, and through his instrumentality convicted."
Footnote 27:
Mr. Brandon has these remarks in his Preface, just quoted
from:—"Poverty is one of the great causes, and proceeds from both
public and private abuse. It is the originator of minor crime, when it
arises from want of employment commensurate to earn sufficient to
maintain a large and growing family so often to be found in the hovels
of the poor; of the greater offences, when it is owing to idleness,
and a total dislike to labour, of which there are but too many
instances, the individuals never attempting to work more days than
will procure food, and of that a scant portion for the family, while
for their particular self they make up the deficiency by a quantity of
those pernicious spirits so destructive to health, and become besotted
the rest of their time, until they are compelled to labour for a
supply of provision; at length work fails altogether, either from a
slackness in trade, or the party having become too enfeebled or
besotted to use proper care and exertion. Then, with poverty staring
him in the face, his favourite liquor refused, and he turned out of
the same house in which he had squandered so much, when flushed with
cash, he becomes half mad, the inflamed state of his mind from drink
adding to it, and the wretches he had associated with in his boozing
hours, being of the worst description, giving bad advice, he is
tempted and fails.—But there are others who struggle in vain, and can
only get a partial employ at most; who find, strive to their utmost,
they cannot gain sufficient to drive 'the gaunt wolf, famine' from the
door, and are doomed to behold the wife and children of their love,
dearer to them than life, in a state of starvation—what wonder that
they should be induced to steal food to soften the cravings of hunger,
and alleviate the bitter cries of the young and helpless infants?
Parental affection is strong, and what for himself a man would scorn
to do, for the sake of his poor and suffering child he rushes to, and
rather than behold his family dying in the agony of starvation, he
begins by robbing victuals; for this he is placed in prison with a set
of reckless vagabonds, by whom he is taught to become as degraded as
themselves, and crime following crime, he stops not till he rises to
the acme of his profession. Whereas, if this description of prisoners
had been kept apart, he would have returned to society nothing the
worse for his incarceration.—Early marriages are one of the great
causes of poverty, a folly to which the labouring classes are greatly
addicted, getting large families before they are enabled by their
strength or abilities to maintain them. Dr. Granville made a very
curious table, showing the ages at which they marry, and as his
calculation is made upon his Lying-in Hospital Practice, which is
confined to the lower classes, none else taking the benefit of such
institutions, it is confirmatory of the fact, and of the extent of
this evil."