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not altogether edifying。 I say it is best for the sake of the
good； that the bad should not all be found out。 You don't want
your children to know the history of that lady in the next box； who
is so handsome； and whom they admire so。 Ah me； what would life be
if we were all found out and punished for all our faults？ Jack
Ketch would be in permanence； and then who would hang Jack Ketch？
They talk of murderers being pretty certainly found out。 Psha！ I
have heard an authority awfully competent vow and declare that
scores and hundreds of murders are committed； and nobody is the
wiser。 That terrible man mentioned one or two ways of committing
murder； which he maintained were quite common； and were scarcely
ever found out。 A man； for instance； comes home to his wife；
and 。 。 。 but I pauseI know that this Magazine has a very large
circulation。* Hundreds and hundreds of thousandswhy not say a
million of people at once？well； say a million； read it。 And
among these countless readers； I might be teaching some monster how
to make away with his wife without being found out； some fiend of a
woman how to destroy her dear husband。 I will NOT then tell this
easy and simple way of murder； as communicated to me by a most
respectable party in the confidence of private intercourse。
Suppose some gentle reader were to try this most simple and easy
receiptit seems to me almost infallibleand come to grief in
consequence； and be found out and hanged？ Should I ever pardon
myself for having been the means of doing injury to a single one of
our esteemed subscribers？ The prescription whereof I speakthat
is to say； whereof I DON'T speakshall be buried in this bosom。
No； I am a humane man。 I am not one of your Bluebeards to go and
say to my wife； 〃My dear！ I am going away for a few days to
Brighton。 Here are all the keys of the house。 You may open every
door and closet； except the one at the end of the oak room opposite
the fireplace； with the little bronze Shakespeare on the
mantelpiece （or what not）。〃 I don't say this to a womanunless；
to be sure； I want to get rid of herbecause； after such a
caution； I know she'll peep into the closet。 I say nothing about
the closet at all。 I keep the key in my pocket； and a being whom I
love； but who； as I know； has many weaknesses； out of harm's way。
You toss up your head； dear angel； drub on the ground with your
lovely little feet； on the table with your sweet rosy fingers； and
cry； 〃Oh； sneerer！ You don't know the depth of woman's feeling；
the lofty scorn of all deceit； the entire absence of mean curiosity
in the sex； or never； never would you libel us so！〃 Ah； Delia！
dear； dear Delia！ It is because I fancy I DO know something about
you （not all； mindno； no； no man knows that）。Ah； my bride； my
ringdove； my rose； my poppetchoose； in fact； whatever name you
likebulbul of my grove； fountain of my desert； sunshine of my
darkling life； and joy of my dungeoned existence； it is because I
DO know a little about you that I conclude to say nothing of that
private closet； and keep my key in my pocket。 You take away that
closet key then； and the house key。 You lock Delia in。 You keep
her out of harm's way and gadding； and so she never CAN be found
out。
* The Cornhill。editor。
And yet by little strange accidents and coincidents how we are
being found out every day。 You remember that old story of the Abbe
Kakatoes； who told the company at supper one night how the first
confession he ever received wasfrom a murderer； let us say。
Presently enters to supper the Marquis de Croquemitaine。
〃Palsambleu； abbe！〃 says the brilliant marquis； taking a pinch of
snuff； 〃are you here？ Gentlemen and ladies！ I was the abbe's
first penitent； and I made him a confession； which I promise you
astonished him。〃
To be sure how queerly things are found out！ Here is an instance。
Only the other day I was writing in these Roundabout Papers about a
certain man； whom I facetiously called Baggs； and who had abused me
to my friends； who of course told me。 Shortly after that paper was
published another friendSacks let us call himscowls fiercely at
me as I am sitting in perfect good humor at the club； and passes on
without speaking。 A cut。 A quarrel。 Sacks thinks it is about him
that I was writing： whereas； upon my honor and conscience； I never
had him once in my mind； and was pointing my moral from quite
another man。 But don't you see； by this wrath of the guilty…
conscienced Sacks； that he had been abusing me too？ He has owned
himself guilty； never having been accused。 He has winced when
nobody thought of hitting him。 I did but put the cap out； and
madly butting and chafing； behold my friend rushes out to put his
head into it！ Never mind； Sacks； you are found out； but I bear you
no malice； my man。
And yet to be found out； I know from my own experience； must be
painful and odious； and cruelly mortifying to the inward vanity。
Suppose I am a poltroon； let us say。 With fierce mustache； loud
talk； plentiful oaths； and an immense stick； I keep up nevertheless
a character for courage。 I swear fearfully at cabmen and women；
brandish my bludgeon； and perhaps knock down a little man or two
with it： brag of the images which I break at the shooting gallery；
and pass among my friends for a whiskery fire…eater； afraid of
neither man nor dragon。 Ah me！ Suppose some brisk little chap
steps up and gives me a caning in St。 James's Street； with all the
heads of my friends looking out of all the club windows。 My
reputation is gone。 I frighten no man more。 My nose is pulled by
whipper…snappers； who jump up on a chair to reach it。 I am found
out。 And in the days of my triumphs； when people were yet afraid
of me； and were taken in by my swagger； I always knew that I was a
lily liver； and expected that I should be found out some day。
That certainty of being found out must haunt and depress many a
bold braggadocio spirit。 Let us say it is a clergyman； who can
pump copious floods of tears out of his own eyes and those of his
audience。 He thinks to himself； 〃I am but a poor swindling；
chattering rogue。 My bills are unpaid。 I have jilted several
women whom I have promised to marry。 I don't know whether I
believe what I preach； and I know I have stolen the very sermon
over which I have been sniveling。 Have they found me out？〃 says
he； as his head drops down on the cushion。
Then your writer； poet； historian； novelist； or what not？ The
Beacon says that 〃Jones's work is one of the first order。〃 The
Lamp declares that Jones's tragedy surpasses every work since the
days of Him of Avon。〃 The Comet asserts that 〃J's 'Life of Goody
Twoshoes' is a ＇Greek text omitted＇； a noble and enduring monument
to the fame of that admirable Englishwoman；〃 and so forth。 But
then Jones knows that he has lent the critic of the Beacon five
pounds； that his publisher has a half share in the Lamp； and that
the Cornet comes repeatedly to dine with him。 It is all very well。
Jones is immortal until he is found out； and then down comes the
extinguisher； and the immortal is dead and buried。 The idea （dies
irae！） of discovery must haunt many a man； and make him uneasy； as
the trumpets are puffing in his triumph。 Brown； who has a higher
place than he deserves； cowers before Smith； who has found him out。
What is the chorus of critics shouting 〃Bravo〃？a public clapping
hands and flinging garlands？ Brown knows that Smith has found him
out。 Puff； trumpets！ Wave； banners！ Huzza； boys； for the
immortal Brown！ This is all very well；〃 B。 thinks （bowing the
while； smiling； laying his hand to his heart）； 〃but there stands
Smith at the window： HE has measured me； and some day the others
will find me out too。〃 It is a very curious sensation to sit by a
man who has found you out； and who； as you know； has found you out；
or； vice versa； to sit with a man whom YOU have found out。 His
talent？ Bah！ His virtue？ We know a little story or two about his
virtue； and he knows we know it。 We are thinking over friend
Robinson's antecedents； as we grin； bow and talk； and we are both
humbugs together。 Robinson a good fellow； is he？ You know how he
behaved to Hicks？ A good…natured man； is he？ Pray do you remember
that little story of Mrs。 Robinson's black eye？ How men have to
work； to talk； to smile； to go to bed； and try and sleep； with this
dread of being found out on their consciences！ Bardolph； who has
robbed a church； and Nym； who has taken a purse； go to their usual
haunts； and smoke their pipes with their companions。 Mr。 Detective
Bullseye appears； and says； 〃Oh； Bardolph！ I want you about that
there pyx business！〃 Mr。 Bardolph knocks the ashes out of his
pipe； puts out his hands to the little steel cuffs； and walks away
quite meekly。 He is found out。 He must go。 〃Good…by； 'Doll
Tearsheet！ Good…by； Mrs。 Quickly； ma'am！〃 The other gentlemen and
ladies de la societe look on and exchange mute adieux with the
departing friends。 And an assured time will come when the other
gentlemen and ladies will be found out too。
What a wonderful and beautiful provision of nature it has been
that； for the most part； our womankind ar