osom of this amiable family Mary Clifford enters; and we tremble
for her virtue and her meals! not, alas, in vain, for Mr. John is not slow
in commencing his gallantries, which are exceedingly offensive to Mary,
seeing that she has already formed a liaison with a school-fellow, one
William Clipson, who happily resides at the very next door with a baker.
During the struggles that ensue she calls upon her "heart's master," the
journeyman baker. But there is another and more terrible invocation. In
classic plays they invoke "the gods"--in Catholic I ones, "the saints"--the
stage Arab appeals to "Allah"--the light comedian swears "by the lord
Harry"--but _Mary Clifford_ adds a new and impressive invocative to the
list. When young Brownrigg attempts to kiss, or his mother to flog her, she
casts her eyes upward, kneels, and placing her hands together in an
attitude of prayer, solemnly calls upon--"the governors of the Foundling
Hospital!!" Nothing can exceed the terrific effect this seems to produce
upon her persecutors! They release her instantly--they slink back abashed
and trembling--they hide their diminished heads, and leave their victim a
clear stage for a soliloquy or a song.

We really _must_ stop here, to point out to dramatic authors the importance
of this novel form of conjuration. When the history of Fauntleroy comes to
be dramatised, the lover will, of course, be a banker's clerk: in the
depths of distress and despair into which he will have to be plunged, a
prayer-like appeal to "the Governor and Company of the Bank of England,"
will, most assuredly, draw tears from the most insensible audience. The old
exclamations of "Gracious powers!"--"Great heavens!"--"By heaven, I swear!"
&c. &c., may now be abandoned; and, after "Mary Clifford," Bob Acres'
tasteful system of swearing may not only be safely introduced into the
tragic drama, but considerably augmented.

But to return. Dreading lest Miss Mary should really "go and tell" the
illustrious governors, she is kept a close prisoner, and finishes the first
act by a conspiracy with a fellow-apprentice, and an attempt to escape.

Mr. Brownrigg, we are informed, carried on business at No. 12, Fetter-lane,
in the oil, paint, pickles, vinegar, plumbing, glazing, and pepper-line;
and, in the next act, a correct view is exhibited of the exterior of his
shop, painted, we are told, from the most indisputable authorities of the
time. Here, in Fetter, lane, the romance of the