Ay! mark the matron well—and laugh not, ,   At her old steeple-hat and guard—
  I've call'd her like the ear of Dionysius;
  I mean that ear-form'd , built o'er his ,
  To catch the and discontented
  Of his poor bondsmen—Even so doth Martha
  Drink up, for her own purpose, all that passes,
  Or is supposed to pass, in this wide city—
  She can it too, if that her profit
  Shall call on her to do so; and retail it
  For your advantage, so that you can make
  Your profit jump with hers.
                            The .
We must now introduce to the reader's acquaintance another character, busy and important far beyond her situation in society—in a word, Ursula Suddlechop, wife of Benjamin Suddlechop, the most barber in all Fleet Street. This dame had her own particular merits, the principal part of which was (if her own report could be trusted) an infinite desire to be of service to her fellow-creatures. Leaving to her thin half-starved partner the boast of having the most snap with his fingers of any shaver in London, and the care of a shop where starved the faces of those who were boobies enough to trust them, the dame drove a separate and more trade, which yet had so many odd turns and , that it seemed in many respects to contradict itself.
 
Its highest and most important duties were of a very secret and nature, and Dame Ursula Suddlechop was never known to betray any transaction intrusted to her, unless she had either been indifferently paid for her service, or that some one found it convenient to give her a double douceur to make her disgorge the secret; and these happened in so few cases, that her character for trustiness remained as unimpeached as that for honesty and .
 
In fact, she was a most admirable matron, and could be useful to the impassioned and the in the rise, progress, and consequences of their passion. She could an interview for lovers who could show proper reasons for meeting ; she could relieve the frail fair one of the burden of a guilty passion, and perhaps establish the hopeful offspring of unlicensed love as the heir of some family whose love was , but where an heir had not followed the union. More than this she could do, and had been concerned in deeper and dearer secrets. She had been a pupil of Mrs. Turner, and learned from her the secret of making the yellow , and, it may be, two or three other secrets of more consequence, though perhaps none that went to the criminal extent of those whereof her mistress was accused. But all that was deep and dark in her real character was covered by the show of outward mirth and good-humour, the laugh and jest with which the dame knew well how to conciliate the elder part of her neighbours, and the many petty arts by which she could recommend herself to the younger, those especially of her own sex.
 
Dame Ursula was, in appearance, scarce past forty, and her full, but not overgrown form, and still features, although her person was plumped out, and her face somewhat coloured by good cheer, had a expression of gaiety and good-humour, which set off the of beauty in the . Marriages, births, and christenings were seldom thought to be performed with sufficient ceremony, for a considerable distance round her , unless Dame Ursley, as they called her, was present. She could contrive all sorts of pastimes, games, and jests, which might amuse the large companies which the hospitality of our ancestors assembled together on such occasions, so that her presence was considered as indispensable in the families of all citizens of ordinary rank, at such joyous periods. So much also was she supposed to know of life and its , that she was the willing confidant of half the loving couples in the vicinity, most of whom used to communicate their secrets to, and receive their counsel from, Dame Ursley. The rich rewarded her services with rings, owches, or gold pieces, which she liked still better; and she very generously gave her assistance to the poor, on the same mixed principles as young in medicine assist them, partly from , and partly to keep her hand in use.
 
Dame Ursley's reputation in the city was the greater that her practice had extended beyond Temple Bar, and that she had acquaintances, , patrons and patronesses, among the quality, whose rank, as their members were much fewer, and the of approaching the courtly sphere much more difficult, bore a degree of consequence unknown to the present day, when the toe of the citizen presses so close on the courtier's heel. Dame Ursley maintained her with this superior rank of customers, partly by driving a small trade in perfumes, essences, pomades, head-gears from France, dishes or from China, then already beginning to be fashionable; not to mention drugs of various descriptions, chiefly for the use of the ladies, and partly by other services, more or less connected with the esoteric branches of her profession heretofore to.
 
Possessing such and so many various modes of thriving, Dame Ursley was nevertheless so poor, that she might probably have mended her own circumstances, as well as her husband's, if she had them all, and set herself quietly down to the care of her own household, and to assist Benjamin in the concerns of his trade. But Ursula was and in her habits, and could no more have endured the economy of Benjamin's board, than she could have reconciled herself to the bald chat of his conversation.
 
It was on the evening of the day on which Lord Nigel Olifaunt dined with the wealthy goldsmith, that we must introduce Ursula Suddlechop upon the stage. She had that morning made a long tour to Westminster, was , and had assumed a certain large elbow-chair, rendered smooth by frequent use, placed on one side of her chimney, in which there was lit a small but bright fire. Here she observed, betwixt sleeping and waking, the simmering of a pot of well-spiced ale, on the brown surface of which bobbed a small crab-apple, roasted, while a little mulatto girl watched, still more , the process of a sweetbread, in a silver stewpan which occupied the other side of the chimney. With these , doubtless, Dame Ursula proposed concluding the well spent day, of which she reckoned the labour over, and the rest at her own command. She was deceived, however; for just as the ale, or, to speak , the lamb's-wool, was fitted for drinking, and the little intimated that the sweetbread was ready to be eaten, the thin cracked voice of Benjamin was heard from the bottom of the stairs.
 
“Why, Dame Ursley—why, wife, I say—why, dame—why, love, you are wanted more than a strop for a blunt razor—why, dame—”
 
“I would some one would draw a razor across thy windpipe, thou !” said the dame to herself, in the first moment of against her helpmate; and then called aloud,—“Why, what is the matter, Master Suddlechop? I am just going to slip into bed; I have been daggled to and fro the whole day.”
 
“Nay, sweetheart, it is not me,” said the patient Benjamin, “but the Scots laundry-maid from neighbour Ramsay's, who must speak with you incontinent.”
 
At the word sweetheart, Dame Ursley cast a wistful look at the mess which was to a second in the stewpan, and then replied, with a sigh,—“Bid Scots Jenny come up, Master Suddlechop. I shall be very happy to hear what she has to say;” then added in a lower tone, “and I hope she will go to the devil in the flame of a tar-barrel, like many a Scots witch before her!”
 
The Scots laundress entered accordingly, and having heard nothing of the last kind wish of Dame Suddlechop, made her with considerable respect, and said, her young mistress had returned home unwell, and wished to see her neighbour, Dame Ursley, directly.
 
“And why will it not do to-morrow, Jenny, my good woman?” said Dame Ursley; “for I have been as far as Whitehall to-day already, and I am well-nigh worn off my feet, my good woman.”
 
“Aweel!” answered Jenny, with great composure, “and if that sae be sae, I maun take the langer tramp mysell, and maun gae down the waterside for Mother Redcap, at the Hungerford Stairs, that deals in comforting young creatures, e'en as you do yoursell, hinny; for ane o' ye the bairn maun see before she sleeps, and that's a' that I on't.”
 
So saying, the old emissary, without farther , turned on her heel, and was about to retreat, when Dame Ursley exclaimed,—“No, no—if the sweet child, your mistress, has any necessary occasion for good advice and kind tendance, you need not go to Mother Redcap, Janet. She may do very well for skippers' wives, chandlers' daughters, and such like; but nobody shall wait on pretty Mistress Margaret, the daughter of his most Sacred Majesty's horologer, excepting and saving myself. And so I will but take my chopins and my cloak, and put on my muffler, and cross the street to neighbour Ramsay's in an instant. But tell me yourself, good Jenny, are you not something tired of your young lady's frolics and change of mind twenty times a-day?”
 
“In troth, not I,” said the patient , “unless it may be when she is a wee fashious about washing her laces; but I have been her keeper since she was a bairn, neighbour Suddlechop, and that makes a difference.”
 
“Ay,” said Dame Ursley, still busied putting on additional defences against the night air; “and you know for certain that she has two hundred pounds a-year in good land, at her own free disposal?”
 
“Left by her grandmother, heaven rest her soul!” said the Scotswoman; “and to a daintier lassie she could not have bequeathed it.”
 
“Very true, very true, mistress; for, with all her little , I have always said Mistress Margaret Ramsay was the prettiest girl in the ; and, Jenny, I warrant the poor child has had no supper?”
 
Jenny could not say but it was the case, for, her master being out, the twa 'prentice lads had gone out after shutting shop, to fetch them home, and she and the other maid had gone out to Sandy MacGivan's, to see a friend frae Scotland.
 
“As was very natural, Mrs. Janet,” said Dame Ursley, who found her interest in to all sorts of propositions from all sorts of persons.
 
“And so the fire went out, too,”—said Jenny.
 
“Which was the most natural of the whole,” said Dame Suddlechop; “and so, to cut the matter short, Jenny, I'll carry over the little bit of supper that I was going to eat. For dinner I have tasted none, and it may be my young pretty Mistress Marget will eat a with me; for it is emptiness, Mistress Jenny, that often puts these fancies of illness into young folk's heads.” So saying, she put the silver posset-cup with the ale into Jenny's hands and assuming her with the of one to sacrifice to duty, she hid the stewpan under its folds, and commanded Wilsa, the little mulatto girl, to light them across the street.
 
“Whither away, so late?” said the barber, whom they passed seated with his starveling boys round a mess of stockfish and parsnips, in the shop below.
 
“If I were to tell you, Gaffer,” said the dame, with most contemptuous coolness, “I do not think you could do my errand, so I will e'en keep it to myself.” Benjamin was too much accustomed to his wife's independent mode of conduct, to pursue his farther; nor did the dame tarry for farther question, but marched out at the door, telling the of the boys “to sit up till her return, and look to the house the whilst.”
 
The night was dark and rainy, and although the distance betwixt the two shops was short, it allowed Dame Ursley leisure enough, while she strode along with high-tucked petticoats, to it by the following reflections—“I wonder what I have done, that I must needs at every old beldam's bidding, and every young minx's maggot! I have been marched from Temple Bar to Whitechapel, on the matter of a pinmaker's wife having her fingers—marry, her husband that made the weapon might have salved the wound.—And here is this fantastic ape, pretty Mistress Marget, forsooth—such a beauty as I could make of a Dutch doll, and as fantastic, and humorous, and , as if she were a duchess. I have seen her in the same day as changeful as a marmozet and as stubborn as a . I should like to know whether her little conceited noddle, or her father's old crazy calculating jolter-pate, breeds most . But then there's that two hundred pounds a-year in dirty land, and the father is held a close chuff, though a fanciful—he is our landlord besides, and she has begged a late day from him for our rent; so, God help me, I must be comfortable—besides, the little capricious devil is my only key to get at Master George Heriot's secret, and it concerns my character to find that out; and so, ANDIAMOS, as the lingua franca hath it.”
 
Thus pondering, she moved forward with hasty strides until she arrived at the watchmaker's habitation. The attendant admitted them by means of a pass-key. Dame Ursula, now in and now in gloom, not like the lovely Lady Cristabelle through Gothic sculpture and ancient , but creeping and stumbling amongst of old machines, and models of new inventions in various branches of mechanics with which of useless , either in a broken or half-finished shape, the apartment of the fanciful though ingenious mechanist was continually .
 
At length they , by a very narrow staircase, pretty Mistress Margaret's apartment, where she, the of the eyes of every bold young bachelor in Fleet Street, sat in a which between the discontented and the . For her pretty back and shoulders were rounded into a curve, her round and dimpled chin in the hollow of her little palm, while the fingers were folded over her mouth; her elbow rested on a table, and her eyes seemed upon the dying , which was expiring in a small grate. She scarce turned her head when Dame Ursula entered, and when the presence of that estimable matron was more announced in words by the old Scotswoman, Mistress Margaret, without changing her posture, muttered some sort of answer that was wholly .
 
“Go your ways down to the kitchen with Wilsa, good Mistress Jenny,” said Dame Ursula, who was used to all sorts of freaks, on the part of her patients or clients, whichever they might be termed; “put the stewpan and the porringer by the fireside, and go down below—I must speak to my pretty love, Mistress Margaret, by myself—and there is not a bachelor betwixt this and Bow but will envy me the privilege.”
 
The attendants as directed, and Dame Ursula, having availed herself of the embers of charcoal, to place her stewpan to the best advantage, drew herself as close as she could to her patient, and began in a low, , and confidential tone of voice, to inquire what her pretty flower of neighbours.
 
“Nothing, dame,” said Margaret somewhat , and changing her posture so as rather to turn her back upon the kind inquirer.
 
“Nothing, lady-bird!” answered Dame Suddlechop; “and do you use to send for your friends out of bed at this hour for ............