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[-174-]
CHAPTER CXC.
TWO OF OUR OLD ACQUAINTANCES.
WE must again transport our readers to the great
metropolis of England.
It was late in the evening of the 24th of January,
1841, — with Byron, we "like to be particular in
dates," — that a man, of herculean form, weather-beaten
countenance, and whose age was apparently somewhat past forty, was passing down
Drury Lane.
He was dressed like a labourer, with a smock frock and a
very broad-brimmed straw hat, which was slouched as much as possible over his
face.
Passing into Blackmoor Street, he continued his way
towards Clare Market; whence he turned abruptly into Clements' Lane, and entered
a public-house on the right hand side of this wretched scene of squalor and
poverty.
No one possessing the least feeling of compassion for
the suffering portion of the industrious millions — (and how large
is that portion!) — can pass along the miserable thoroughfare called
Clements' Lane without being shocked at the internal misery which the exterior
appearance of many of the dwellings bespeaks. There is ever a vile effluvium in
that narrow alley — a miasma as of a crowded churchyard!
Entering the parlour of the public-house, the man with
the weather-beaten countenance and slouched hat was immediately recognised by a
lad seated apart from the other inmates of the room.
This youth was about eighteen or nineteen years of age,
very short in stature, but well made. On a former occasion we have stated that
his countenance was effeminate and by no means bad-looking; his eyes were dark
and intelligent; his teeth good; and his voice soft and agreeable. His manners
were superior to his condition; and his language was singularly correct for one
who was almost entirely self-taught, and who had filled menial employments since
his boyhood.
He was dressed in a blue jacket and waistcoat, and dark
brown trousers; and that attire, together with a boy's cap, contributed towards
the extreme youthfulness of his appearance.
A pint of porter stood, untouched, upon a table at which
he was sitting.
The man with the weather-beaten countenance proceeded to
take his seat next to this lad: he then rang the bell, and having ordered some
liquor and a pipe, entered into conversation with his young companion.
"Have you heard any thing more of that villain
Tidkins, Harry?" asked the man.
"Nothing more since I saw you yesterday morning,
Jem," replied Holford. "I have lost all trace of him."
"But are you sure that it was him you saw the day
before yesterday?" demanded Crankey Jam — for he was the
individual with the weather-beaten countenance and slouched hat.
"Don't you think I know him well enough, after all
I have told you concerning him?" said Henry Holford, smiling. "When
you and I accidentally met for the first time, the day before yesterday, in this
parlour, and when in the course of the conversation that sprang up between us, I
happened to mention the name of Tidkins, I saw how you fired — how
you coloured — how agitated you became. What injury has he done you,
that you are so bitter against him?"
"I will tell you another time, Harry,"
answered Crankey Jem. "My history is a strange one - and you shall know it
all. But I must find out the lurking-hole of this miscreant Tidkins. You
say he was well dressed?"
"As well as a private person can be," answered
Holford. "But did the Resurrection Man put on the robes of the greatest
monarch in the world, he could not mitigate the atrocious expression of his
cadaverous — hang-dog countenance. I confess that I am afraid of
that man: — yes — I am afraid of him!"
"He was well-dressed, and was stepping into a cab
at the stand under the Charterhouse wall, you said?" observed Crankey Jem.
"Yes — and he said, 'To the
Mint — Borough,"' replied Holford "those were his very
words — and. away the cab went."
"And you have since been to see if you could
recognise the cab, and pump the cab-man?" continued Jem.
"By your request I have done so," answered
Holford; "and my researches have been altogether un-[-175-]successful.
I could not find the particular cab which he took."
"Why didn't you question the waterman and the
drivers?" asked Jem.
"So I did; but I could glean nothing. Now if you
really want to find the Resurrection Man, I should advise you to go over to the
Mint, and hunt him out amongst the low public-houses in that district. Depend
upon it," added Holford, "he has business there; for he is not a man
to run about in cabs for nothing."
"The fact is, Harry," returned Jem, "
that it doesn't suit my schemes to look after Tidkins myself. He would only get
out of my way; and — as I have missed my aim once — I
must take care to thrust home the next time I fall in with him."
"You mean to say that you have poniarded him once,
and that he escaped death?" whispered Holford.
"Yes: but I will tell you all about it presently,
Harry," said Crankey Jem; 'and then, perhaps, you will be induced to assist
me in hunting out the Resurrection Man."
"I certainly have an old score to settle with
him," returned Holford; "for — as I told you — he
once laid a plot against my life. To-night you shall tell me how you came to be
so bitter against him: tomorrow night I will visit the Mint, and make the
inquiries you wish concerning him; and the night afterwards I must devote to
particular business of my own."
"And what particular business can such a younker as
you have in hand?" asked Crankey Jem, with as much of a smile as his grim
countenance could possibly relax itself into.
"I now and then visit a place where I can
contemplate, at my ease, a beautiful lady — without even my presence
being suspected," answered Holford, in a mysterious tone.
"A beautiful lady! Are you in love with her,
then?" demanded Crankey Jem.
"The mere idea is so utterly absurd — so
extravagant - so preposterous," replied Holford, "that my lips dare
not speak an affirmative. To acknowledge that I love this lady of whom I speak,
would be almost a crime - an atrocity — a diabolical insult, — so
highly is she placed above me! And yet," he added mournfully, "the
human heart has strange susceptibilities — will
indulge in the idlest phantasies! My chief happiness is to gaze upon this
lady — and my blood boils when I behold him on whom all her
affection is bestowed."
"She is married, then!" said Crankey Jem,
interrogatively.
"Yes — married to one who is handsome
and young, and who perhaps loves her all the more because he owes so much — -so
very much to her! But I actually shudder — I feel alarmed — I
tremble, while I thus permit my tongue to touch upon such topics, — topics
as sacred as a religion — as holy as a worship."
"You have either indulged in some very foolish and
most hopeless attachment, Harry," said his companion; "or else your
wits are going a-wool-gathering."
"May be both your remarks apply to me,"
muttered Holford, a cloud passing over his countenance. "But - no - no: I
am in the perfect possession of my senses — my intellects are
altogether unimpaired. it is a fancy — a whim of my mine to
introduce myself into the place I before alluded to, and, from my concealment,
contemplate the lady of whom I have spoken. It gives me pleasure to look upon
her — I know not why. Then — when I am alone - I brood
upon her image, recall to mind all I have heard her say or seen her do, and
ponder on her features - her figure - her dress — her whole
appearance, until I become astonished at myself — alarmed at my own
presumption — terrified at my own thoughts. For weeks and
weeks — nay, for months — I remain away from the place
where she often dwells; — but at length some imperceptible and
unknown impulse urges me thither; I rove about the neighbourhood, gazing
longingly upon the building; — I endeavour to tear myself away — I
cannot; — then I ascend the wall — I traverse the
garden — I enter the dwelling — I conceal myself — I
behold her again — him also, — and my
pleasures and my tortures are experienced all over again!"
"You're a singular lad," said Crankey Join,
eyeing the youth with no small degree of astonishment, and some suspicion that
he was not altogether right in his upper storey. "But who is this lady that
you speak of? and why are you so frightened even to think of her? A cat may look
at a king — aye, and think of him too, for that matter. Human
nature is human nature; and one isn't always answerable for one's
feelings."
"There I agree with you, Jem," said Holford.
"I have often struggled hard against that impulse which urges me towards
the place where the lady dwells — but all in vain!"
"Who is she, once more!" demanded Jem.
"That is a secret — never to be
revealed," answered Harry.
Crankey Jem had commenced an observation in reply, when
one of the persons who were sitting drinking at another table, suddenly struck
up a chant in so loud and boisterous a tone that it completely drowned the voice
of Holford's companion: -
FLARE UP
Flare up, I say, my jolly friends,
And pass the bingo gaily: —
Who cares a rap if all this ends
Some morn at the Old Bailey?
"A short life and a merry one"
Should be our constant maxim;
And he's a fool that gives up fun
Because remorse attacks him.
Here Ned has forks so precious fly,
And Bill can smash the flimsies;* [*pass
fictitious bank-notes]
No trap to Tom could e'er come nigh.
For he so fleet of limbs is.
Bob is the best to crack a crib,
And Dick to knap a fogle;* [*Handkerchief]
And I can wag my tongue so glib
A beak would wipe his ogle.
Who are so happy then as we —
Each with such useful knowledge!
For Oxford University
Can't beat the Floating College.* [*The Hulks]
To parish prigs one gives degrees,
To lumber-lags* [*transports]
the latter:
But I would sooner cross the seas,
Than in a humbox* [*pulpit]
patter.* [*preach]
Each state in life has its mishaps: —
Kings fear a revolution;
The knowing covey dreads the traps —
And both an execution.
Death will not long pass any by —
Each chance is duly raffled;
What matters whether we must die
In bed or on the scaffold!
[-176-] Flare up, I say,
then, jolly friends,
And pass the bingo gaily;
Who cares a rap if all this ends
Some morn at the Old Bailey?
A short life and a merry one"
Should be our constant maxim;
And he's a fool that gives up fun
Because remorse attacks him."
"Now let us be moving, young sprig," said
Crankey Jem, when the song was brought to a conclusion. "You shall come
with me to my lodging, where we'll have a bit of supper together; and then I'll
tell you my story; it is a strange one, I can assure you."
Holford rose, and followed Crankey Jem from the
public-house.
The latter led the way to a court in Drury Lane; and
introduced the lad into a small back chamber, which was tolerably neat and
comfortable.
On a table near the window, were small models of ships,
executed with considerable taste; various tools; blocks of wood, not yet shaped;
paint-pots, brushes, twine, little brass cannon and anchors, — in a
word, all the articles necessary for the miniature vessels which are seen in the
superior toy-shops.
"That is the way I get my living, Harry," said
Jem, pointing towards the work-table. "I have been a sad fellow in my time:
but if any one who has gone through all I have suffered, doesn't change, I don't
know who the devil would. Sit down, Harry — the fire will soon blaze
up."
Jem stirred the fire, and then busied himself to spread
a small round table standing in the middle of the room, with some cold meat, a
substantial piece of cheese, and a quartern loaf. He also produced from his
cupboard a bottle of spirits, and when there was a good blaze in the grate, he
placed the kettle to boil.
"You have got every thing comfortable enough here,
Jem," said Holford, when these preparations were concluded.
"Yes; I can earn a good bit of money when I
choose," was the answer. "But I waste a great deal of time in making
inquiries after Tidkins — yes, and in brooding on my vengeance, as
you, Harry, do upon your love."
"Love!" ejaculated Holford. "My God! if
you only knew of whom you were speaking!"
"Well — well," cried Join,
laughing; "I see it is a sore point - I won't touch on it any more. So now
fall to, and eat, Harry. You're sincerely welcome. Besides, you can and will
serve me, I know, in ferretting out this villain Tidkins. If you behave well,
I'll teach you how to make those pretty ships; and you can earn six times as
much at that work, as ever you will obtain as pot-boy at a public."
"Oh! if you would really instruct me, Jem, in your
business," exclaimed Holford, "how much I should be obliged to you!
The very name of a pot-boy is odious to my ears. Yes — I will serve
you faithfully and truly, Jem," continued the lad: "I will go over to
the Mint to-morrow evening; and if Tidkins is there, you shall know where."
"That's what I call business, Harry," said Jem.
"Serve me in this — and you can't guess all I'll do for
you."
They ate their supper with a good appetite. Jem — who
was somewhat methodical after a fashion — cleared away the things,
and placed two clean tumblers and a bowl full of sugar upon the table.
When the grog was duly mixed and "every thing was
comfortable," as the man termed it, he commenced his truly remarkable
history, which we have corrected and improved as to language, in the following
manner.
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