house of public entertainment, kicked the
landlord in the knee, and thereby caused his death. We say it _ought_ to
have been Mr. Barker, because the action was not a common one, and could
have emanated from no ordinary mind.

It has now become matter of history; it is recorded in the Newgate
Calendar; and we wish we could attribute this piece of daring heroism to
Mr. Barker. We regret being compelled to state that it was not performed
by him. Would, for the family credit we could add, that it was achieved
by his brother!

It was in the exercise of the nicer details of his profession, that Mr.
Barker's knowledge of human nature was beautifully displayed. He could
tell at a glance where a passenger wanted to go to, and would shout the
name of the place accordingly, without the slightest reference to the
real destination of the vehicle. He knew exactly the kind of old lady
that would be too much flurried by the process of pushing in and pulling
out of the caravan, to discover where she had been put down, until too
late; had an intuitive perception of what was passing in a passenger's
mind when he inwardly resolved to 'pull that cad up to-morrow morning;'
and never failed to make himself agreeable to female servants, whom he
would place next the door, and talk to all the way.

Human judgment is never infallible, and it would occasionally happen that
Mr. Barker experimentalised with the timidity or forbearance of the wrong
person, in which case a summons to a Police-office, was, on more than one
occasion, followed by a committal to prison. It was not in the power of
trifles such as these, however, to subdue the freedom of his spirit. As
soon as they passed away, he resumed the duties of his profession with
unabated ardour.

We have spoken of Mr. Barker and of the red cab-driver, in the past
tense. Alas! Mr. Barker has again become an absentee; and the class of
men to which they both belonged is fast disappearing. Improvement has
peered beneath the aprons of our cabs, and penetrated to the very
innermost recesses of our omnibuses. Dirt and fustian will vanish before
cleanliness and livery. Slang will be forgotten when civility becomes
general: and that enlightened, eloquent, sage, and profound body, the
Magistracy of London, will be deprived of half their amusement, and half
their occupation.

CHAPTER XVIII--A PARLIAMENTARY SKETCH

We hope our readers will not be alarmed at this rather ominous title. W