Poor Orlando Crump came to see us every day; and we, who had never taken the slightest notice of him, in Portland Place, and treated him so cruelly that day, at Beulah Spa, were only too glad of his company now. He used to bring books for my girl, and a bottle of sherry for me; and he used to take home Jemmy's fronts, and dress them for her; and when locking-up time came, he used to see the ladies home to their little three-pair bed-room, in Holborn, where they slept now, Tug and all. "Can the bird forget its nest?" Orlando used to say (he was a romantic young fellow, that's the truth, and blew the flute, and read Lord Byron, incessantly, since he was separated from Jemimarann); "Can the bird, let loose in eastern climes, forget its home? Can the rose cease to remember its beloved bulbul?—Ah! no. Mr. Cox, you made me what I am, and what I hope to die—a hairdresser. I never see a curling-irons before I entered your shop, or knew Naples from brown Windsor. Did you not make over your house, your furniture, your emporium of perfumery, and nine-and-twenty shaving customers, to me? Are these trifles? Is Jemimarann a trifle? if she will allow me to call her so. O, Jemimarann! your pa found me in the workhouse, and made me what I am. Conduct me to my grave, and I never, never shall be different!" When he had said this, Orlando was so much affected, that he rushed suddenly on his hat, and quitted the room. Then Jemimarann began to cry too. "O, pa!" said she, "isn't he, isn't he a nice young man?" "I'm _hanged_ if he ain't," says Tug. "What do you think of his giving me eighteenpence yesterday, and a bottle of lavender water for Mimarann?" "He might as well offer to give you back the shop, at any rate," says Jemmy. "What! to pay Tuggeridge's damages? My dear, I'd sooner die than give Tuggeridge the chance." [Illustration: DECEMBER—Christmas Bustle. ] 1840.] DECEMBER. [Illustration] [Illustration: _Grate_ Wind.] [Illustration: Men and Measures.] [Illustration: Boxing Day.] [Illustration: A Muff-in-Belle.] FAT CATTLE SHOW.