THE CHEQUERS:BEING THE

Natural History of a Public-house, SET FORTH IN

_A LOAFER'S DIARY_. 

EDITED BY

JAMES RUNCIMAN, AUTHOR OF "SKIPPERS AND SHELLBACKS, " ETC. 

London:WARD AND DOWNEY, 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W. C. 

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ]

Dedication. 

TOPHILIP WOOD AND JOHN WOOD, OFSOUTH SHIELDS. 

GENTLEMEN, --This record of ruined lives is inscribed to you, for it ismainly owing to you that I have gained such gruesome experience. Fromthe day when, as a boy of seventeen, I formed my connection with yourhonourable house, I have owed my professional success to your culture, your generosity, and your admirable relations with the police force. MySovereign and many other people have been pleased to approve my strangelabours; but my chief distinction in life arises from my being yourrelative. With feelings which I cannot describe, I remain, Your obliged and grateful, JAMES RUNCIMAN. 

CONTENTS. 

 PAGEINTRODUCTION 1THE WANDERER 6THE PINK TOM CAT 23TEDDY 46THE WANDERER AGAIN 64THE ROBBERY 77ONE OF OUR ENTERTAINMENTS 92MERRY JERRY AND HIS FRIENDS 108THE GENTLEMAN, THE DOCTOR, AND DICKY 123POACHERS AND NIGHTBIRDS 140JIM BILLINGS 155OUR PARLOUR COMPANY 175A QUEER CHRISTMAS 192JACK BROWN 215

THE CHEQUERS. 

INTRODUCTION. 

It is risky to go home with some of the company from the Chequers, forgood-fellowship is by no means fostered in the atmosphere of apublic-house. The creatures who write about the cheerful glass, and thejovial evening, and the drink that mellows the heart, know nothing ofthe sad work that goes on in a boozing-place, while the persons who drawwild pictures of impossible horrors are worse than the hired men whowrite in publican's papers. It is the plain truth that is wanted, andone year of life in a public-house teaches a man more than all thestrained lectures and colourless statistics. I am going to give a seriesof pictures that will set forth every phase of public-house life. It isuseless to step casually into a bar, and then turn out a flashyarticle. If you want to know how Drink really acts on the inner life ofthis nation you must actually live among the forlorn folk who drinkCirce's draught, and you must live as their equal, their friend, theirconfidant. I am a Loafer, and not one of the gang at The Chequers wouldever dream of regarding me as anything but an equal. My friend DonkeyPerkins, the fighting man, curses me with perfect affability and I am oneasy terms with about one hundred costermongers. If a "gentleman" wentamong them he could learn nothing. Observe the hush that falls on thebabble of a tap-room if any well-dressed person goes in; listen to thehum of warning, and then notice the laboured hypocrisy of the talk thatgoes on so long as the stranger is there. I have seen that odd changescores of times, and I know that nothing can be more curious than thecontrast between the scrappy, harmless chat that goes on while therepresentative of respectability is there, and the stupid, frankbrutalities which the advent of the visitor silenced. 

At nights I go home with one after another of my set, and at merryseasons we stay together till early morning. They throw off all disguisebefore me, and even the thieves are not afraid. When once you are onlevel terms with the community you begin to see what is the true resultof drink. The clergyman, the district visitor, the professionalslummer--all the people who "patronise"--never learn the truth, and theypositively invite the wastrel classes to lie. 

Some time ago I read some "revelations" which made a great stir in thecountry. The writer was accused of publishing obscenities, but whatstruck me most in his work was its absolute display of ignorance. Thepoor, innocent man had listened to stories which were told in thedialect that is used to impress outsiders, and I laughed as I seemed tohear the very tones of some shady gentry of my own acquaintance. Theunhappy vendor of revelations went among his subjects of study for sixweeks, and then set up as an authority. Of course, the acute, sleazydogs whom he questioned kept back everything that was essential, andfilled their victim's mind with concoctions which amused professionalblackguards for a month. Could that literary adventurer only have heardthe criticism which daily met my ear, he would have found that manyeager souls were longing for a chance to plunder such an obvious "mug. "Another writer, whose works appear in a morning journal, professes tomake flying visits to various queer places, and his articles arepublished as facts; but I had the chance of testing the truth of twotales which dealt with official business, and I found that these twowere false from end to end. Not only were they false, but theyillustrate nothing, for the writer did not know the conditions of thelife which he pretended to describe, and his fiction misled manythousands. Experience, then--sordid, miserable, long experience--isneeded before anyone can speak the truth concerning the life of whatCarlyle called "the scoundrel classes. " The same experience only canteach you anything about the poor. The scoundrels do not actuallyconfide in anybody, and I never yet knew one of them who would not turnon a confederate; but they exhibit themselves freely before people towhom they have become used. It unfortunately happens that thescoundrels and the dissolute poor are much thrown together. A man maybe a hopeless drunkard without being a rascal, but the rascals and theboozers are generally taken in the lump by persons of a descriptive turnof mind. That is faulty natural history. The chances are always ten toone in favour of the boozer's becoming a criminal; but we mustdistinguish between those who have taken the last bad step and those whoare merely qualifying. And now for our history. 

THE WANDERER. 

The bar was very much crowded last night, and the air was impregnated tochoking point with smoke and evil exhalations. The noisy times onSaturdays come at 2 p. M. , and from ten till closing time. In theafternoon a few labourers fuddle themselves before they go home todinner, and there is a good deal of slavering incoherence to be heard. From seven to eight in the evening the men drop in, and a vague murmurbegins; the murmur grows louder and more confused as time passes, and byten o'clock our company are in full cry, and all the pipes are in fullblast. When I stole quietly in, I thought the scene was hideous enoughin its dull way. The gas flared with drowsy refulgence through the reek, and the low masks of the roaring crew somehow left on me an impressionthat I was gazing on _one_ bestial, distorted face. A man who is aracecourse thief and "ramper" hailed me affably. A beast of prey he is, if ever there was one. His hatchet face with its piggish eyes, his thin, cruel lips, his square jaw, are all murderous, and, indeed, I cannothelp thinking that he will commit a murder some day. When he is in hisaffable mood he is very loathsome, but I cannot afford to loathe anyone, and we smile and smile, though we dislike each other, and though theRamper hardly knows what to make of me. When I first made hisacquaintance we were on our way to a race meeting, and he proposed togive me his company. Like all of his class, he knew many "certainties, "and he offered, with engaging frankness, to put me in the way of"gittin' a bit. " The racing blackguard never talks of money; indeed, hisobliquity of mind prevents him from calling anything by its right name. For him the world is divided between those who "have got it"--_it_ beingmoney--and those who mean to "get a bit" by any means, fair or foul. Onthat day, long ago, this creature fancied that I had some money, and hewas determined, to rob me somehow. I let him imagine that he wasleading me on, for there is no luxury that I enjoy more than watching alow, cunning rogue when he thinks he is arranging a successful swindle. I was introduced to a thoroughly safe man. The safe man's face wasalmost as villanous as that of my mentor, and his manners were, perhaps, a little more offensive. Our first bet closed all transactions betweenus; as I fully expected, I obtained a ridiculously liberal price, and I_won_. On my proposing a settlement, the capitalist glared virtuouslyand yelled with passion--which was also what I expected. Then came mymentor, and softly remarked, "Don't go and queer his pitch. Here's a loton 'em a-comin', and they'll be all over you if you say a word. Waittill he gits a bit and he'll pay. " This was also what I expected. Wehappened to be in an enclosed ground, so I managed to keep my eye on thecapitalist, and the unhappy being vainly strove to dodge away. Catchinghim in the act of sneaking through the turnstile, I touched him gently, and then beckoned to a policeman. No welsher can hope for admission toone of the enclosed courses after he is once fairly caught, and myvictim whimpered, "Come in yere and 'ave a drink. " Then he said, "Lookyere, I ain't got a bloomin' 'alf dollar but what I 'ad off o' you. Iwalked down this mornin', and hadn't only the gate-money, and your pallaid me on to you. Say nothin' this time. I ain't had no grub to-day. Give us a chance. 'Twas your pal as put me on, mind. Brandy cold, if youdon't mind. "

The ineffable impudence of the capitalist's request made it hard for meto keep from laughing; I let him go, and I fear that he and the Rampermade further attempts on the idiots who throng the Silver Ring. 

That same evening Mr. Ramper made his last effort to practise on me. Wewere straddling among a sporting group in The Chequers bar, when hesaid, "Better settle over Dexter. " "Dexter? What about Dexter?" "Didn'tyou take Dexter agin' Folly?" "Not such a mug. " Then the hound raisedhis voice in the fashion of his tribe. "You goin' to welsh me, are you?You don't mean to pay that ten bob? I'll 'ave it out of your bloomin'liver!" All this was uttered in a yell which was intended to drawattention, and the creak of the brute's voice made me inclined to dashmy fist in his vile face. But I only grinned and said "What a poor liaryou are. "

The more the Ramper screeched, the more I laughed; he durst not strike, and at last, when I reminded him that he had already divided a littleplunder with the capitalist, he grumbled a curse or two and lapsed intoaffability. You cannot shame one of these beings, and the Ramper is nowon the most confidential terms with me. I am very glad we did not fight, because he introduced me to one of the most interesting and estimable ofall my acquaintances. Said the Ramper, blowing his sickly breath into myvery ear, "There's a bloke yere as knows suthin' good for Lincoln. Up inthe corner there. Let's sit down. " Within a minute I found myselftalking to a queer, battered man, who bent moodily over his glass ofgin and stole furtive glances at me with bleared, sullen eyes. His bloodwas charged with bile, and he could not prevent the sudden musculartwitchings of his hands. His knuckles were swollen, and his fingers weretwisted slightly. Evidently he was diseased to the very bone throughalcoholic excesses. He was dressed in a shiny overcoat, and his bonyshanks threatened to pierce his trousers. When he pushed back his rakishgreasy hat, he showed a remarkably fine forehead--well filled, strong, square--but he had the weakest and most sensual mouth I ever saw. Therewas scarcely a sign of a lower jaw, and the chin retreated sharply fromthe lip to the emaciated neck. 

My man spoke with a deep voice that contrasted oddly with his air ofdebility, and I noticed that he not only had a good accent, but hiswords were uttered with a deliberate attempt at formal and polishedelocution. We talked of horse-racing, and he mouthed out one speechafter another with a balanced kind of see-saw, which again and again raninto blank verse. I said, "You have something good for Lincoln, I hear. Any chance of being on?" He replied, "I heed no fairy tales or boastingyarns. When a man says he has a certainty, I tell him to his face thathe's a liar. The ways of chance are far beyond our ken, and I can butsay that I try. Information I have. From Newmarket I receive dailymessages, and I have as much chance of being right as other men have;but you know what the Bard says. Ah! what a student of human naturethat man was! What an intellect! In apprehension how like a god! Youknow what he says of prophecy and chance? I only fire a bolt at aventure, and if my venture don't come off, then I say, 'Pay up and lookpleasant. '"

The majestic roll of his speech was very funny, and he poured forth hisresonant periods as though I had been standing at a distance of twentyyards. As the gin stirred his sluggish blood he became more and moredeclamatory, and when at last he fairly yelled, "I am a gambler. I couldnot brook life if I had no excitement. It is my very blood. Yet, thinknot my words are false as dicers' oaths, " and waved his right hand witha lordly gesture, I thought, "An old actor, for certain. " So long as hissenses remained he talked shrewdly about betting, and his remarks werefree from the mingled superstition and rascality which make ordinaryracing talk so odious; but when he began to drink rapidly he soon becameviolent, and finished by carrying on like a madman. He shouted passagesfrom "Hamlet" and "Coriolanus" with ear-splitting fervour, and at lasthe drew a universal protest from the rest of our crew, who arecertainly not sensitive. Then his yell grew maudlin. "Why did God makeme thus? Why do I grunt and sweat under the burden of a weary life? Giveme, ah, give me the days that are gone!" Then he fell alongside of thebench, and presently his long, gurgling snore sounded fitfully. "Let himsweat there till closing time; he'll be quiet enough, " said Mr. Landlord; and sure enough the orator lay until the hour had struck. Heshivered when he rose, and his knees were like to fail him. "Heavens!what a mouth I've got!" he moaned, and I could see that the deadly, bitter fur had already covered his palate. "Take a flask home, Billy, and pull yourself together when you turn in. " Billy grabbed fiercely atthe air. "These infernal flies have started early. " The specks weredancing before his eyes, and I fancy he had an ugly night before him;but I didn't see him home. 

THURSDAY. --I have found out a good deal about my stagy friend, and weare quite confidential, especially late at night. He weeps plenteouslyand recalls his own sins, but I think he is fairly truthful. A moving, sordid history is his. Moralising is waste of time, but one mightalmost moralise to the extent of boredom concerning the life of BillyDevine, boozer, actor, betting-man. 

Devine's peculiarly grandiose mode of telling his story was rathereffective at first hearing, but it would read like a burlesque, so Itranslate his narrative into my own dialect. He was a quick, clever lad, and the culture bestowed in a genteel academy was too narrow for him. Heread a great deal of romance, and still more poetry. He neglected hisschool lessons, and he was dismissed after a few years as an incurablescamp. 

No sort of steady work suited Devine; his fatal lack of will wassupplemented by an eager vanity, and he was only happy when he wasattracting notice. Now that he is matured, he is gratified if he canmake drunken costermongers stare, so he must have been a very forwardcreature when his conceit was in full blossom. He began by spoutinglittle recitations, and gradually practised until he could take his partin amateur stage performances. As he put it, "I found that the majestyof Coriolanus and the humour of Paul Pry were alike within my compass, and I impartially included both these celebrated parts in my_répertoire_. " Nothing ever diverts a stage-struck youth from his fellpurpose unless he is absolutely pelted off the boards. Devine loathedhis office; he hated the sight of a business letter, and he finallyappeared in a wretched provincial booth, where he earned seven shillingsper week in good times: the restraints of respectability were to hamperhim no more. Through all his miserable wanderings I tracked him, for hekept playbills, and each bill suggested some quaint or sordid memory. Ifelt something like a lump in my throat when he said, "Now, dear friend, at this place I played once the 'The Stranger' and 'The Idiot Witness, 'and for two days my comrade and I had nothing to eat. On one eventfulnight we saw some refuse fish being wheeled off in a barrow, and webegged leave to abstract a fish, which was--I say it without fear ofcontradiction--the knobbiest and scaliest member of the finny tribe. Sir, we tried to skin this animal and failed. Then we scraped him, andthe moving question arose, What about fire? Luckily the landlady hadleft a lamp on the stairs. My inventive faculties were bestirred. TheLAMP! No sooner said than the fish was placed on the fire-shovel, and wethen took turns to move the shovel backwards and forwards over the lamp. Regardless of that woman's loud inquiries about the smell, which was intruth, sir, very overpowering, we pursued our joint labours until two inthe morning, and then the brute was only _half_ raw. One penknife wasour sole cutlery; but we managed to cut through the skin, and wedevoured the oily stuff like famished hounds, sir. We were ashamed; but, as the poet truly observes, 'Necessity knows no law, ' and we endured thescurrilous language of the woman when, on the morrow, she found thebottom of the shovel encrusted with dirt and the top thickly coated withgrease. That fish saved us, sir. "

Little by little Devine worked his way towards London, and at length heappeared in a West-end theatre. His reminiscences of the stars areimpressive, but we need not deal with them; it is enough to say that hewas successful--and in light comedy no less. About this time he began tohave his photograph taken very frequently, and the portraits made mefeel sad. This dull, sodden man was once a handsome fellow, alert, wellpoised, brave and cheerful. The profile which I saw in the photographssomehow made me think of an arrow-head on the upward flight; that, lowerjaw, which is now so flabby and slobbery was once well rounded, and theweakness was not unpleasantly evident. I often wonder that human vanityhas not done away with alcoholism. Men are vain animals, yet agood-looking fellow, who could never pass a mirror without stealing aquiet look, will cheerfully go on drugging himself until every featureis transformed. I have seen the process of facial degradation carriedthrough in so many cases that I can tell within a little how long a manhas been a drinker, and that with no other guide than the standard ofgraduated depravity which is in my mind, and which I instinctivelyconsult. Devine must have been attractive to women, for they certainlydid their best to spoil him, if one may judge by the collection of fadednotes which he retains. He met his fate at last. A pretty, sentimentalgirl fell in love with him, and pressed him to make an appointment withher, so the dashing young actor arranged to meet the love-strickendamsel at Hampton Court. The flowers of the chestnuts were splendid, and the spirit of May was in the air. "I seem to see the same sunshineand the same flowers very often, even when I'm too jumpy to know what isgoing on all round, " said the poor, battered man. The girl sobbed andtrembled. "I couldn't help it; I had to meet you, and, Oh, if fatherknew, I believe he'd beat me. " Devine found out that the lady was thedaughter of a very rich tradesman, and he was not by any meansdispleased, for romantic actors have just as keen an eye to business asother folk. Before the pleasant afternoon closed, he had gainedpermission to call the truant Letty, and she primmed her rosy lips as hetaught her to say Will. Decidedly Mr. Devine was no laggard in love. 

Indiscreet little Letty found means to steal away from home time aftertime, and her stock of fibs must have been varied and extensive, forthree months passed before the inevitable catastrophe came. 

"This is Aunt Lizer, is it?"

Devine and Miss Letty were walking in a secluded corner of WimbledonCommon when a loud voice spoke thus. Letty screamed, and turned to facea stout, red-faced man who stood glaring ominously. 

Devine, after the approved stage fashion, said "May I ask the meaning ofthis intrusion?"

"Meanin'! You talk about meanin' to John Billiter? See this stick? I'llmeanin' you! This is my daughter, and I'll thank you to tell me who_you_ are. " Need I say that Devine rose to the occasion? He recited tome a portion of the reply which he made to the aggrieved parent, and Ican fully believe that that worthy man was surprised. "The Rivals, " "TheHunchback, " "Romeo and Juliet, " and other dramatic works were ransackedfor phrases, and the stately periods flowed on until Mr. Billitergasped, "Damn it, gal!--do you mean to say you've deceived your fatherso you might git out along of a blanked lunatic?" This was too much. Devine observed with majesty, "Sir, I can pardon much to the father ofthe lady whom I love; but there are limits, sir. Beware!"

"You come along to the trap, you hussy; and as for you mister, let meketch you anywhere near our place and I'll turn the yard dog out onyou!"

Poor Letty was severely shut up at home. Her father questioned her much, and when he heard at length that the flashy young man was an actor, hegave one choking yell, and sat down in limp fashion. All the rest of theday he muttered at intervals, "A hactor!" and pressed his hand to hisforehead with many groans. At night he went into Letty's room, and as hegazed on the girl's worn face he said, "A hactor! The Billiters is donefor. Their goose is cooked!"

Devine fairly luxuriated in his desolation. I could tell from his modeof dwelling on his woes that he had keenly enjoyed playing the forlornlover. As he told me of those sleepless nights spent long ago, androlled out his sonorous record of suffering, his watering eye gleamedwith pleasure, and I can well imagine how sorely he bored his friendswhen he was young and his grief was at its most enjoyable height. But hewas no milksop, and he resolved that Mr. Billiter should not baulk him. Where is the actor who does not delight in stratagems and mysteries?Bless their honest hearts, they could not endure life without anoccasional plot or mystification! Two months after Letty'sincarceration, a decently-dressed man called at Mr. Billiter's with aparcel. The visitor was clad in tweed; his smart whiskers weredexterously trained and he looked like a natty draper's assistant. "These things were ordered by post, and I wish Miss Billiter to selecther own patterns. "

"Miss Billiter's with her aunt, and she don't see anyone at present. "

"Then kindly hand in the parcel, and I will call in an hour. "

That night Letty was restless. The sly little thing had managed todeceive her aunt; but the problem of how to elude father wastroublesome. 

William had an American engagement; he would have a fast horse readynext evening at eight; Mr. Billiter would be summoned by a telegram;then train to Southampton--licence--the mail to New York, and bliss forever! Letty must rush out like a truant schoolgirl--never mind about hator cloak; the escape _must_ be made, and then let those catch who can. 

This was Devine's plan, and he carried it out with perfect nerve. Afortnight afterwards the mail steamer was surging along inmid-Atlantic, and the plucky actor was passing happy, idle days with hiswife. 

 * * * * *

Billy had the nerve of a man once, but he utters a kind of strangledshriek now if a dog barks close to him, and he cannot lift his glass inthe mornings--he stoops to the counter and sucks his first mouthfulslike a horse drinking, or he passes his handkerchief round his neck, anddraws his liquor gently up with the handkerchief to steady him. A longway has Billy travelled since he was a merry young player. I shall saymore about him presently. 

THE PINK TOM CAT. 

My friend the publisher calls the Loafer's narratives "thrilling, " butI, as editor of the Diaries, would prefer another adjective. The Loaferwas a man who only cared for gloom and squalor after he had given up theworld of gaiety and refinement. Men of his stamp, when they receive acrushing mental blow, always shrink away like wounded animals andforsake their companions. A very distinguished man, who is now living, disappeared for fifteen years, and chose on his return to be regarded asan utter stranger. His former self had died, and he was strengthened andembittered by suffering. The Loafer was of that breed. 

Two locked volumes of the Loafer's Diary were delivered to me, and Ifound that the man had once been joyous to the last degree, ambitious, successful, and full of generous thoughts and fine aspirations. Some ofhis songs breathe the very spirit of delight, and he wrote his gladthoughts at night when he could not sleep for the keen pleasure ofliving. Then comes a sudden cloud, and from that time onward the Diaryis bitter, brutal, and baldly descriptive of life's abominations. Itwould not become me to speak with certainty, but I fancy that a womanhad something to do with the Loafer's wild and reckless change. He isreticent, but his poems all point in one direction. Here is a grave noteof passion:--

 The sombre heather framed you round, The starlight touched your pallid face, You moved across the silvered ground-- The night was happy with your grace. 

 The air was steeped in silver fire, The gorse was touched with silvern sheen; The nightingales--the holy choir-- Sang bridal songs for you, my queen. 

 But songs and starfire, pomp of night, Murmur of trees and Ocean's roll, Were poor beside the blind delight-- The Love that quivered in my soul. 

Further on there is a single brief verse like a cry of rage anddespair:--

 And is it then the End of all? O, Father! What a doom is mine-- An unreturning prodigal, Who feeds on husks and herds with swine!

After many ravings the torn soul seems to grow calm, and we have thispensive and tender fragment of music:--

 The dreams that fill the thoughtful night, All holy dreams are in the sky, They stoop to me with viewless flight, And bid me wave my care good-bye. 

 Spread your dim wings, O sacred friends, Fleet softly to your starry place; I'll meet you as my journey ends, When I shall crave our Master's grace. 

 Till I may join your shadowy band I'll think of things that are to be-- The far-off joy, the Unseen Land, The Lover I shall never see. 

After this our man plunges into the slums, and we have no more poetry. One who loved him asked me to go through his journals, and nearly all Iknow of him is derived from them. By chance I have heard that he waspassionately fond of children, but avoided women. One who knew him saidthat he was witty, and often strung off epigrams by the hour together, but he was always subject to fits of blind frenzy, during which his witand his genuine sagacity left him. No one followed him to his grave; buthe was visited in hospital by a tall, fair lady, who gazed on him withstern composure. He sneered even while dying. "I'm a pretty object, am Inot? I was going to shake the world. Will you kiss me once?"

The tall lady stooped and kissed him; he gasped, "Thank you. It was morethan I deserved. And now for the Dark. "

The lady sighed a little and went away, and I think that a bunch ofheather which lay on the coffin must have come from her. Anyway, that isall I know about the Loafer, and he may now tell his story of the PinkTom Cat in his own way. You observe how drily circumstantial he is. 

 * * * * *

I shall not be able to go on with Billy Devine's story for some time. Wehave had an ugly business here, and it is now two months since I wrote aline. It was only by making special inquiry that I found how time hadgone, for I have been living in a nightmare. 

One fine morning I put on smart flannels and went for a scull on theriver. If ever you drink too much it is best to force yourself intoviolent exercise at any cost, and for that reason I determined to rowuntil the effects of a very bad night had worn off. Usually I keepmyself clear of after consequences, but I had been with a keen set, andwe did not go to bed at all. When we contrived to separate at 7 a. M. , some of my companions began on a fresh day's drinking, but I chose totake a rest. 

It was a lovely morning, and I felt like a bad sort of criminal amid theclear, splendid beauty. When the light wind struck across the surface ofthe river it seemed as if the water were pelted with falling jewels; theosiers bowed and sighed as the breeze ran along their tops; and, hereand there, a spirt of shaken dewdrops described a flashing arc, and fellpoppling into the stream. Ah! how solemnly glad and pure and radiant thegreat trees looked! The larks had gone wild with the joy of living, andtheir delicious rivalry, their ceaseless gurgle of liquid melody, seemedsomehow to match the multitudinous glitter of the mighty clouds offoliage. For a man with pure palate and healthy eye the sights andsounds would have made a heaven; but my mouth was like a furnace, andmy eye was fevered. Nevertheless, I managed to enjoy the sweet panoramamore and more as my muscles grew tense, and I pulled on doggedly forfull three hours, until I had not a dry stitch on me; then a funnylittle waterside inn drew my eye, and I went ashore. Bob Darbishire metme with a shout of welcome, and I wondered what brought him there. Bobdid not often visit The Chequers, for he was a wealthy fellow, and heliked best to fool his time away in flash billiard-rooms; but he knew mewell enough, and I was on as easy terms with him as with the costers andRommany chals. I say _was_ when I speak of him. Ah me!

Bob succeeded to a great deal of ready money and a good business when hewas barely twenty-one, and he broke out into a rackety life at once, forhe had been hard held in by his father and mother, and his madactivities craved for some vent. Had he been well guided he would havebecome a useful citizen, but he was driven with a cruel bit, and thereins were savagely jerked whenever he seemed restive. When he once wasfree, he set off at a wild rate down the steep that leads to perdition, and plenty of people cheered him as he flew on. It vexed me often to seea fine, generous lad surrounded by spongers who rooked him at everyturn; but what could one do? The sponger has no mercy and no manliness;he is always a person with violent appetites, and he will procureexcitement at the cost of his manliness and even of his honesty. Bob had an open hand, and thought nothing of paying for twentybrandies-and-sodas in the course of a morning. Twenty times eightpencedoes not seem much, but if you keep up that average daily for a year youhave spent a fair income. No one ever tried to stay this prodigal with aword of advice; indeed, in such cases advice is always useless, for thevery man whom you may seek to save is exceedingly likely to swear, oreven to strike at you. He thinks you impugn his wisdom and sharpness, and he loves, above all things, to be regarded as an acute fellow. A fewfavoured gentry almost lived on Bob, and scores of outsiders had prettypickings when he was in a lavish humour, which was nearly every day. Hebetted on races, and lost; he played billiards, and lost; he ran foxterriers, and lost; he played Nap for hours at a stretch, and generallylost. He was only successful in games that required strength and daring. Then, of course, he must needs emulate the true sporting men in amorousachievements, and thus his income bore the drain of some two or threelittle establishments. Bob would always try to drink twice as much asany other man, and he treated himself with the same liberality in thematter of ex-barmaids and chorus girls. The Wicked Nobleman was asomewhat reckless character in his way, but his feats would not bearcomparison with those performed by many and many a young fellow whobelongs to the wealthy middle class. Alas! for that splendid middleclass which once represented all that was sober and steady andtrustworthy in Britain! Go into any smart billiard-room nowadays, ormake a round of the various race meetings, and you will see something tomake you sad. You see one vast precession of Rakes making their madProgress. 

Bob was always kindly with me, as, indeed, he was with everybody. Thevery bookmakers scarcely had the heart to offer him false prices, andonly the public-house spongers gave him no law. But, then the spongerspares nobody. On this memorable morning the lad was rigged in orthodoxflannels, and he looked ruddy and well, but the ruddiness was not quiteof the right sort. He had begun drinking early, and his eye had thatincipient gloss which always appears about the time when the onepleasurable moment of drunkenness has come. There is but one pleasantmoment in a drinking bout, and men make themselves stupid by trying tomake that fleeting moment permanent. Bob cried, "Come on, sonny. Oh!what would I give for your thirst! Mine's gone! I'm three parts coppedalready. Come on. Soda, is it?"

Then, with the usual crass idiocy of our tribe, we proceeded to swallowoblivion by the tumbler until the afternoon was nearly gone. I felt dampand cold and sticky, so I said I should scull home and change myclothes. Then Darbishire yelled with spluttering cordiality, "Home! Notif I know it! My togs just fit you. Go and have a bath, and we'll shoveyou in the next room to mine. I'm on the rampage, and Joe Coney's comingto-night. You've got nothing to do. Have it out with us. Blow me! we'llhave a week--we'll have a fortnight--we'll have a month. "

I wish I had never taken part in that rampage. 

Towards eight o'clock we both felt the false craving for food which isproduced by alcohol, and we clamoured for dinner. Dinner under suchcircumstances produces a delusive feeling of sobriety, and men thinkthat they have killed the alcohol; but the stuff is still there, andevery molecule of it is ready, as it were, to explode and fly throughthe blood when a fresh draught is added. At eleven o'clock we were atcards with Mr. Coney. At one we went out to admire the moon, and thoughone of us saw two moons, he felt a dull pain at the heart as heremembered days long ago, when the pale splendour brought gladness. Whenwe had solemnly decided that it was a fine night, we went back to ourreeking room again, and pursued our conversation on the principle thateach man should select his own subject and try to howl down the othertwo. This exercise soon palled on us, and one by one we sank to sleep. The clear light was pouring in when I woke, but the very sight of thestraight beams made me doleful. When a man is in training, that gush ofbrightness makes him joyous; but a night with the fiend poisons thelight, the air, the soul. Bob lay on the floor under the full glare ofthe window. What a fine fellow he was! His chest bulged strongly underhis fleecy sweater; his neck was round and muscular, and every limb ofhim seemed compact and hard. His curls were all dishevelled, and hisface was miserably puffy, but he had not had time to become bloated. Nowonder that girls liked him. 

Presently we were all awake, and a more wretched company could not verywell be found. Novelists talk about "a debauch" in a way that makesnovices think debauchery has something grand and mysterious about it. "We must have orgies; it's the proper thing, " says Tom Sawyer thedelightful. The raw lad finds "debauches" mentioned with majesticmelancholy, and he naturally fancies that, although a debauch may bewicked, it is neither nasty nor contemptible. Why cannot some good mantell the sordid truth? I suppose he would be accused of Zolaism, but hewould frighten away many a nice lad from the wrong road. Let anyyoungster who reads this try to remember his worst sick headache; lethim (if he has been to sea) remember that moment when he longed forsomeone to come and throw him overboard; let him then imagine that hehas committed a deadly crime; let him also fancy what he would feel ifhe knew that some awful irreparable calamity must inevitably fall on himwithin an hour. Then he will understand that state of mind and bodywhich makes men loathe beauty, loathe goodness, loathe life; then hewill understand what jolly fellows endure. 

We glowered glassily on each other, and we were quite ready either toquarrel or to shed tears on the faintest provocation. Presently Boblaughed in a forced way, and said, "God, what a head! Let's come out. Those yellow shades make me bilious. " The glory of full day flooded thelovely banks, but the light pained our eyes, and we sought refuge in thecool, dim shades of the parlour. Our conversation was exactly like thatof passengers on board ship when they are just about to collapse. Theminutes seemed like hours; our limbs were listless, as if we had beenbeaten into helplessness. So passed one doleful hour. I mentionedbreakfast, and Bob shuddered, while Coney rushed from the room. What apleasant thing is a jovial night!

"Let's see if we can manage some champagne, " said Darbishire, and the"merry" three were soon mournfully gazing on a costly magnum. Sip by sipwe contrived to drink a glass each; then the false thirst woke, thenausea departed, and we were started again for the day. 

I persisted in taking violent exercise, but Darbishire seemed to havelost all his muscular aptitudes, and although I implored him to exerthimself, he sank into a lethargy that was only varied by mad fits, during which he performed the freaks of a lunatic. After the sixth day'sdrinking I proposed to go away. Bob looked queerly at me, and said in awhisper, "Don't you try it on! See that!" and he showed me a littleDerringer. I laughed; but I was not really amused. You always noticethat, when a man is about to go wrong, he thinks of killing those whomhe likes best. That night Bob's hands flew asunder with a jerk while wewere playing cards; the cards flew about; then he flung a decanterviolently into the fireplace, and sat down trembling and glaring. Isprang to his side, and found that the sweat was running down his neck. I pulled off his shoes--his socks were drenched! I said, "I thoughtyou'd get them, old fellow. Now, have some beef-tea, and I'll send rightaway for a sleeping draught. " Bob trembled still more. 

"No beef-tea. I've had nothing these three days, as you know. It wouldkill me to swallow. " Then he said, in a horrible whisper, "The brute'scoming down the chimney again. There's a paw! Now his head! Now's achance! Yah! you pink devil, that's got you! Three days you've beencoming, and now you're cheeky. Yeo, ho! That's done him. " Then he flunga second decanter, and sank down once more with a shriek. 

"I'll have a drink on that!" he screamed; and I let him take a fullglass of spirits, for I wanted to secure the Derringer. The drinkappeared to paralyse him, and I slipped down to the landlord's room. Theworthy man took things very coolly; none of his trade ever like to see aman drunk, but they become hardened to it in time, and talk aboutdelirium tremens as if it were measles. Here is the dialogue. 

"Bob's queer. "

"I thought so. He's had 'em once before. He must be careful, but youcan't stop him. "

"I must have help. I could drown myself when I think that I've perhapsencouraged him. "

"Don't you worry yourself. He'd have been a million times worse if you'dnot been about. He sits with the watchmen and all sorts of tow-ragsthen. "

"We must get him home somehow. "

The landlord fairly shouted: "Home! anything but that! Not that I wantto keep him, but we must have him right first. There's his mother, whatcould she do?" Then, dropping his voice, the shrewd fellow said, "Yousee, it would nearly pay me to be without his custom, for I'm in the oldlady's hands. Fact is, they've engaged him to a swell girl, and she'sawful spoons on him, for there ain't nobody so nice and hearty as he iswhen he's square. He's fond of her, too, but she wants to _reclaim_ him, don't you know, and he kinder kicks. So he says when he came, "I'm goingto be out of apron-strings for a bit, " and I don't want him to go nearhome till he's fit to meet the lady. She's a screamer, she is--a realswell; and she'd go off her head if she saw him with 'em on. I'll tellyou what we'll do. I've got one bromide of potass draught. We'll getthat into him somehow, and in the morning we may manage to feed him. During the day we'll get some more stuff from the doctor, and patch himup ready for home I don't care to see him again, for there's no stoppinghim. "

When I went up to our room, Bob was lying on the floor, and breathingheavily. He opened his eyes, rose, and staggered a little; then he said, "B'lieve I can walk a bit; come out for a stroll on the tow-path. " Themoon was charging through wild clouds, and the river was fleckedalternately by strong lights and broad swathes of shadow. Bob mutteredas he walked; so, to give him an excuse for conversation, I said, "Whywere you chucking the hardware so gay and free, Robert?" He put his lipsto my ear, and said, "That pink tom cat has followed me for ever solong, and I can't do for him anyhow. By God, he's everywhere! A pinkcat, you know, with eyes made of red fire. He's on to me just when Idon't expect him. Take me for a row. The brute can't come on the water. "

"You'll never go out to-night!"

"Won't I? And so will you, or I'll know the reason why!"

I had not secured that Derringer. 

I picked a big, broad boat at the inn stairs, and we were soon droppinggently over the tide, but I would not row hard, as I wanted to be nearassistance. To my astonishment Darbishire began to talk quite lucidly, and went on for a few minutes with all the charm that distinguished himwhen he was sober. By some strange process the blood had begun tocirculate with regularity in the vessels of the impoverished brain, andthe man was sane. I was overjoyed, and in the fulness of my heart Isaid, "We'll drive home, or row there to-morrow. My dear fellow, Ithought you were going dotty. " His jaw fell; he yelled, "Stop him--stophim! He's coming with his mouth open! Oh! red-hot teeth and his bellyfull of flames--the cat! Oh, I'll stand this no more--you brute, youshall drown!" In an instant he sprang overboard; the clouds came overthe moon, and I could only tell Bob's whereabouts by hearing himwallowing and snarling like a dog. I backed up to him, leaned over, andpassed one of the rudder-lines under his arm-pits; his struggling ceasedand I shouted for help. Lights moved on the bank, and presently a boatshot towards us. The landlord said, "Mercy on us! Excuse me, sir, butyou did ought to be careful. You ought to be shot for risking that man'slife; I see as how it is. " I was only too glad to have missed seeing atragedy, and I let Boniface talk on. 

It was agreed that Bob should have his draught, and that I should sit upby his bedside till four next morning. We wrapped him in warm blankets, and coaxed him into taking the medicine. He started and twitched forsome time, and at last sank into sleep. He moaned again and again, butshowed no signs of waking, and I sat quietly smoking and framing goodresolutions. My eyeballs were irritable, and I found that I could onlyobtain ease by closing my eyes. Once I started up and walked to and fro;then it struck me I ought to throw the Derringer out of the window, andI did so; then I sat down. The clock struck two; my tired eyes closed, but I was sure I could keep awake, and I began to repeat old songsmerely to test my memory and keep the brain active. 

Crash! I was sitting on the floor. The clock struck one, two, three! Bobwas gone. I had fallen asleep and betrayed my trust. I could have cried, but that would do little good. The door opened, and Darbishireappeared--prowling stealthily and glaring. A long glitter met my eye, and I saw that Bob had taken down an old Yeomanry sabre from the wall ofthe next room. He came on, and I shrank under the shadow of myarm-chair. He heaved up the sabre, and shouted, "Now, you beast, I'vegot you on the hop!" and hacked at the bed with wild fury. As he turnedhis back on me, I prepared to lay hold on him; he whirled round swiftly, and my heart came into my mouth. I cried out, "Bob, old man!" He startedfuriously for a second, and then made a pass at me, sending the steelthrough my clothes on the right side. I felt a slight sting, but did notmind, and by wrenching myself half round I tore the sabre from hishand. Then I closed, and held him, in spite of his struggles andfrothing curses, until the landlord and ostler burst in and helped me. 

The cut on my side only needed sticking-plaister, but I was completelyexhausted, and I resolved not to risk such another experience for anyprice. I said to the landlord, "He must be taken to the town, where wecan have a doctor and attendants handy. "

"But you won't drive that poor lady out of her senses, will you?"

"No, I'll take him to The Chequers, and smuggle him in at night. Theyknow me there, and not a soul but the doctor and the men will be able totell where he is. "

Boniface was not quite satisfied, but he agreed to lend me two men, andat dusk I drove round to the back gate of The Chequers, and smuggled Bobthrough the stables. 

He was very well behaved when the doctor came, and even thanked him forproviding two careful attendants. The doctor's directions were verysimple. "I'll give him some strong meat essence at once; then he musthave the draught that I will send. No alcohol on any consideration, nomatter if he goes on his knees to you. Let him have milk and beef-tea asoften as you can, and never leave him for an instant. "

Our landlord of The Chequers was very funny about the jim-jams, andfunnier still about my suddenly taking to swell company; but I let himtalk on, and he certainly kept unusually quiet, though no moreinveterate gossip ever lived. 

At a very late hour I was strolling homeward, long after the lastreeling coster had swayed and howled towards his slum, when two womenstopped me Then a man came from the shadow of the wall, and I thought Ihad fallen across some strange night-birds; but one of the women spoke, and I knew she was a lady. "You have my boy in that horrid place. Tellme, is he well? I must see him; I'll tear the doors down with my nails. "Then the man said, "I drove the keb, sir. I knows Mr. Robert, and Ithought I'd better tell his mother. " I eagerly said, "Madam, you shallsee him, but, pray, not to-night. The shock might kill him. On my honourhe is in good hands, and I promise to come to you on the instant when itis safe for you to meet him. " The lady moaned, "Oh, my boy--mydarling--my own! Oh! the curse!"--and then she went away. 

In two days Bob was quite calm and rational. He craved for food, andseemed so well that I thought I might manage him single-handed. So theattendants were dismissed, with the doctor's permission, and Bob and Isettled down for a quiet chat. I shall never forget that talk. The ladwas not maudlin, and he utterly refused to whimper, but he seemedsuddenly to have seen the horror of the past. "You can stop in time, oldman, " he said, "but I can't. When I'm well, I'll turn to work, and I'lltry to keep other chaps from getting into the mud. It would be funny tosee me preaching to the boys up river, wouldn't it?" For a moment Ithought, "I'll turn teetotal as well, " but I did not say it. I benttowards Bob and asked, "Would you care to see your mother, old man?" Hesmiled beautifully, and eagerly answered, "Go for her now. "

I was away about two hours, and returned with Mrs. Darbishire. Thelandlord met us, and gravely said "I've been away, but the potman tellsme a queer yarn. Mr. Darbishire made queer signs out of window to theman you call the Ramper, and Mr. Ramper goes to the pub over the way andthen up to the room. And now Mr. Robert's been locked in for a hour anda half. " My heart gave one leap, and then I felt cold. We hurried upstairs, and we heard a long shrill snarl--not like a human voice. 

"Locked! Fetch a crowbar, and call up one of the lads to help. "

We burst open the door, and there on the bed lay Bob. He was chattering, as it were, in his sleep, and a brandy bottle lay on the floor. He hadswallowed nearly the whole of the poison raw, and his limbs wereparalyzed. Suddenly he opened his eyes; then he writhed and yelled, "Mother!--the beast! the beast!" The lady threw herself down on herknees with a pitiful cry, but Bob did not speak to her. He never spokeany more. 

TEDDY. 

I was so weak and nervous after Bob Darbishire's death that I did not gomuch to The Chequers; I hid myself most in my own rooms. The funeral wasattended by all the well-to-do folks in the district; but I was notthere, because I did not care to pass by The Chequers in the procession. Most people had a good word for poor Bob, and many kind fellows couldnot mention him without the tears coming into their eyes. Only thespongers were indifferent; but they had, of course, to look around foranother liberal spendthrift. Bob was so young, and bright, and brave; Inever knew a straighter or a kinder man, and I have seen few who had somuch ability. He drifted into drunkenness by accident, and the vice hadhim hard by the throat before he found out that he was really aprisoner. He struggled for awhile, and repented again and again; buthis will was captured, and when once a man's will is enslaved, vicesseem to come easy to him. I am not fit to moralise about his relationswith women; I only know that he was a sinner, and I think of histemptations. Like so many splendid young Englishmen, he was conquered bydrink. The vice seizes on some of the best in all classes, and thefinest flowers soon become as worthless as weeds when the blight hascaught them. It is nearly always the bright lad of a family, the mostpromising, the mother's darling, that goes wrong; it is the brilliantstudents, the men of whom one says, "Ah, what could he not do if hewould only try!" is those who trip, and quench their brilliance in themud. A little rift in the fabric of the will, a little instability oftemper, an unlucky week of idleness--these are the things that start aman towards the very gulf of doom. Bob Darbishire, the athlete, thedelightful and exhilarating companion, was set gliding on the slope, andnow he and his hopes and his unknown capabilities have passed away, deeper than ever plummet sounded. It is a big puzzle. I am a loafer, andI suppose I shall never be anything else, so it is not for me to solvethe ugly problem. 

The Ramper fawned on me, and asked me if I had heard of "that there poreyoung bloke wot kicked the bucket upstairs. "

I said, "Yes; I fancy he was murdered. Do you know who took the brandyup to him?"

The Ramper looked very wicked, but merely answered, "'Ow should I know?He arst me, and I goes and says, 'No, sir; not for a thick 'un. ' I see'ow he was. I've 'ad 'em on myself, and I knowed as 'ow he wasn't upthere for nothing. "

The Ramper is undoubtedly a liar. 

The Wanderer often asked me to call, for he knows that I have a stiffflask in my pocket every night. I have pieced out the rest of his story, and I shall put it into my book when I am less glum. At present I swearevery day that I shall turn temperance lecturer, and spend my money onthe Cause; but, somehow, habit, and my roving blood, are too much forme. Like all men of my sort, from Burns downward, I can see evilsclearly, and state their nature plainly enough; but when it comes tokeeping clear of them, I resemble my tribe in being rather unhandy atjudicious strategy. _Vogue la galére!_

Three months more have gone and my journals have never been written up, save in chance scraps. The Wanderer is quite as interesting as ever! Itook the odds to £2 with him over a race run at Newmarket, and he paidpromptly. He puts out little signs of improvement--sprouts ofgentility--at times: but one heavy spell of gin and Shakespeare takeshim back to the old level again. Still, he is more amusing than thedandies; in fact, I do not think I shall go amongst the respectabledivision again. I make no pretence of immolating myself: I go among theblackguards and wastrels because I am fascinated; I tell exactly what Isee, and leave other people to make practical use of my words. Duringthe last three months I have been, as usual, hard hit. It seems asthough any creature that I am fond of must soon be lost to me, and thepages of my journal are like rows of tombstones. 

We were making a great noise in the bar one night, for a cornet andfiddle were playing, and a few couples were moved by the music and thebeer to begin dancing. A good many women come in at one time or other, and their shrill laughter forms the treble of our crashing chorus. Onetall, broad-shouldered dame, who boasts of having six sons serving inthe Guards, made a great commotion. Her weight is considerable. She hadbeen drinking for four hours, and, when she attempted to illustrate hertheory of the waltz, she sent drinkers and drink flying as though heroffspring's battalion had charged. She had disabled one sporting costerwho tried to guide her, and the landlord was preparing for practicalremonstrance, when she sailed down upon me, yawing all the way as thoughshe were running before a hard breeze. I prepared for the shock, but Iwas not destined to receive it. A tiny little lad had just received somebeer in a bottle from the counter, and he was making for home, when thetall woman plumped upon him. The bottle was broken, the beer ran amongthe dirt and sawdust, and the little lad was almost smothered before thelandlord (who impolitely addressed the waltzer as a cow) had managed tohaul the ponderous woman to her feet. The boy was a good deal hurtphysically, but his mental distress at sight of the lost beer preventedhim from noticing his bruises. When he fully grasped the extent of thecalamity he actually became pale, and I do not think I ever saw such apiteous little face in my life. I asked "How much was it, little 'un?"His lips trembled, and he said, "I dunno. I put a-money down, and herknows what to put in a-bottle. Father got to 'ave his beer, else he nothave good supper. " I thought, "This youngster isn't ill-used, or hewouldn't be anxious for his father to have a good supper. " Then Iordered a pint can of ale, and offered it to the youth. He hesitated, and said, "It's dark. I slip on a stone, and then more beer gone, " so Itook his hand, and marched off with the can, notwithstanding the factthat my friend the cornet player struck up "See the conquering hero" ina most humorous and embarrassing manner. 

It was very quiet and fresh outside, after the hoarse wrangling and thedreadful air, and I liked to have the boy's soft hand in mine. He said, "Missa Benjo's cellar open. Two mens fall down a-night; you keep a-holdo' my hand. " I went very warily down the alley, and found that Mr. Benjohad assuredly left an awkward trap for the people from The Chequers. Myyoung man seemed very smart and careful, and he soon led to a lone doorwhich opened into a den that was half kitchen, half cellar. 

"Who a-you got long o' you, Teddy?" inquired a gruff man who wascrouched on a stool by the side of the empty grate. 

"It's a man, father, wot give me the beer. "

"Come in, mate, if you've a mind. "

I accepted the invitation, prompted by my usual curiosity, and foundmyself in a stinking little box, which was lit by a guttering dip. Someclothes hung on a line, and these offended more senses than one. Nobreath of pure air seemed to have blown through that gruesome dwellingfor many a day, but I am seasoned, and nothing puts me out much. 

"Ain't got another seat, mate. Take the bed. "

The bed was not suggestive of sleep, and I was a trifle uneasy as I satdown; yet I knew it would never do to hesitate, so down I sat. 

"Wot's this about givin' Teddy the beer?"

I made answer. 

"Ain't got no more 'n two bloomin' dee, but you can have 'em, and thankye for your trouble. "

"I have money enough, thanks. A pint isn't much. "

"Oh, now I knows you. A bloke was a-tellin' me they had a broken-downtoff round at The Chequers, and some on 'em says you ain't no morebroken down 'n the Lord Mayor. Allus got enough for a 'eavy booze. Anyway, you talks like a toff. I used to git round to the bar, but itdon't run to it now. Two kids; and Teddy's clothes there ain't not soeasy to buy now. Missus is out charin'. She'll fetch us a bit o' supper, and I makes out middlin' well along o' my pint and bit o' bacca. How'sthings, mate?"

I said that things were flourishing fairly. 

"You ain't never done much blank work, _you_ ain't. Your dukes is sameas silk. Bin a tailor?"

"No, I have other work to do. "

"All square, mate; 'tain't no business o' mine. Things is bad 'ere. Theblank, blank swine of a blank landlord, he takes pooty well 'alf ofevery tanner I can make, and d----d if he'll do anything to the place. "

"Smells are queer down here. "

"Smell! Lord love you, come down yere to-morrer, and you'll git to knowwot stinks is. Let Teddy show you that 'ere bloomin' ditch at the back. They calls it a stream, but I dussn't say wot I thinks it is afore thenipper. All the dead cats and muck in the bloomin' crehation gits dumpedin there. On 'ot days you wants a nosebag on, I tell you, and no error. "

"Does Teddy go to school?"

"No fear; not yet. But he's fly as they makes 'em, he is. Useful he is, too. 'Andy as makes no matter, and he ain't no more 'n seven. "

"Well, I'm coming to see Teddy and the ditch to-morrow. Will you haveanother pint?"

"Right, matey; that'll do for to-morrow. Ain't you got no less 'n atanner? Never mind, I'll square when I'm flush. "

Next day I visited the alley, and went to the gap where it opened on tothe ditch. There was an admirably efficient hotbed for rearing diseasesthere. A solid bed of sewage of about two feet deep seemed to fill thehollow, and a thin sheet of filthy water covered this bed--with sicklybreaks here and there. Ordure palpable and abominable was plentiful, and the swollen carcasses of small animals exhaled their biting wafts. Poor little Teddy! I said, "Come home with me, will you? Mind, youmustn't tell anyone where I live;" and the amiable little dot set off atmy side. He could not walk very well, for he had one shoe minus a sole, and his toes stuck through the other. When we reached my room I sent outfor a pair of boots and two pairs of socks; then I pitched Teddy's away, and presently to his terror, and my own amusement, I found myselfengaged in washing his feet. Nice little feet they were when they cameclean, and their owner pattered about with perfect satisfaction on mycarpet. I pulled out some cakes, and Teddy accepted a few, turning awayhis head as he took them. He had the exact look of a dog that is beingreproved, and I had some trouble in persuading him to begin. When he hadfinished one sponge-cake he grinned and enigmatically observed, "Teddy'sbelly. " I said, "That's baby talk. You talked all right last night. Finish your cakes and you'll have some more for tea. Trot about as youlike till it's ready. " He went gaily about, touching some articles, andeven sniffing at others; he dived into my bedroom, and I heard him cry"Ooh!" Then there was a scraping sound, and Teddy appeared lugging asmall looking-glass and smiling broadly. "Ooh! This is what there iswhen a lady gives you a beer. " I understood that he referred to thebleared glass behind the bar of the Chequers, and I appreciated Teddy'spowers of comparison; but I explained to him that mirrors cannot besafely hauled about by little boys, and he kindly assented to thisproposition. 

We had tea, and Teddy so far improved on his bashfulness that he madegrabs at several things which would have disagreed with him if I had lethim follow his inclinations. He affably received my hints on tableetiquette, and smiled with gentleness when I told him he had eatenenough. The little creature's ideas were like those of a dog. He hadbeen taught to follow and to come home to his kennel; he was ready to begracious toward those who fed him, and he had the true canine glancewhich expresses gratitude and expectancy at once. But he was only arudimentary human being, and his brain power had slept so far. I showedhim Caldecott's wonderful "House that Jack Built, " and he gloated overthat delightful villain of a dog; the cat and the rat he understood, buthe knew nothing of the cow. I let him stare at the dog as long as hechose, and he chuckled like a magpie all the time. He proposed to removethe picture-book, and it was only with difficulty that I persuaded himto let me keep it. Knowing the street arab class very well, I did nottry to talk with him, for I have always found that an arab's curiositywhen he finds himself in a new place renders him incapable of attendingto anything that is said to him until he has learned the appearance ofevery object in the room. The little chap is a barbarian, and you musttreat him exactly as you would treat an adult member of a friendlysavage tribe. 

Before Teddy went home I rigged him up in his new boots and stockings, and he was amusingly proud. When we parted at the alley he said, "Youlet me go you house again, and have some nice things and see the dog?"Of course I invited him, and henceforth he waylaid me in the afternoonsas I went home. At first he was not polite, and his mode of calling, "Hoy, man! wait for me!" drew marked attention from the public. But hesoon learned to lift his hat and to shake hands. At intervals I gave himset lessons on manners, and, if he behaved nicely, we had a game atcricket in my queer old garden. It was almost impossible to make Teddyunderstand the morality of any game at first. When he learned that theball must not touch his wicket, his treatment of my slow bowling waspositively immoral. I did not mind his kicking the ball out of the way, nor did I object to his using his bat like a scoop; but when he lay downin front of the wicket, and sweetly smiled as the ball touched hisstomach, I had to insist on severe cricketing etiquette. As the nightsdarkened in I took to amusing myself more and more with Teddy, andsometimes I did not go out to the Chequers at all. The boy was a severetrial to me when he learned to play draughts. When once the fundamentallaws of the game dawned on his mind, and he understood that he must tryto reduce the number of my pieces, he thought that any means werejustified if he could be successful. Once I left the room for a minutewhile we were playing, and on my return found four of my men haddisappeared. I said, "Where are those men?" Teddy smiled courteously; "Itaken 'em. I go hop, hop, hop, over a lot. All fair. " "But where haveyou put them?" "In a pocket. All fair. " But he gradually grew out of hishabits of picking and stealing, and he behaved much like a well-traineddog. It is plain to me that he regarded me as a sort of deity; but hislove was quite unalloyed by fear. He would stroke my beard, and say, "You very nice, " when I had been specially good-humoured, and, as hisstock of words increased, he prattled on by the hour. One must lovesomething, and I got into the habit of loving this pale little urchin, so that at length I fitted up a crib for him, and asked his mother tolet him stay with me. This made a great change in my habits. Teddyseemed to wake as by magic, if I rose to go out after he was in bed, and, although he never cried, his way of saying, "You won't let me stopby myself--perhaps the black man might come, " always settled me. Bydegrees I fell into the habit of reading at nights, and the steady lifemade my brain clear. Books that had been dim memories to me for yearsbecame vivid, and the power of sustained thinking came back. In thoselong, calm evenings, I went through my Gibbon again, and the awfulpageant that rolls past our view under the direction of the aristocratof literature made my late life seem poor and mean. How low we were! Thedarkened costers are interesting as studies in animal life; but the morepretentious persons whose humour reaches its highest flight in anindecent story, and whose wit consists in calling someone else aliar--how petty they are, and how fruitless is their friendship! I beganto feel like a patrician who surveys the mob from his lordly dais, and Ialmost resolved to go back to the clubs and theatres once more. 

Teddy increased so much in mental power that he took interest in fairytales, and he was a rigorous taskmaster. I was obliged to illustrate thestories in varied ways. Once I was asked, "What's a gian'?" I said, "Avery, very big man. " "Big as you?" "Far bigger. " "How bigger? Has he gotlegs, and heads, and--and things like that?" "We'll see. When I stand onthis chair I'm as big as a giant, " but it was all of no avail, and onlyafter Teddy had seen a huge, knock-kneed being in a penny show did heunderstand what a giant could be like. Then he asked for giant storieson all occasions. 

It struck me that I was neglecting Teddy's religious education. Hundredsand thousands of such little fellows in and about London have no notionof a God, or any ruling power save the policeman. I had a dark mind todeal with, and Teddy's questions fairly beat me. Of course I took theold orthodox ideas, and tried to make them simple, but Teddy posed melike this:

"Do God live in a sky?"

"Far away. Yes; well, say in the sky. "

"Where does he hang up his coat when he goes to his bed?"

What on earth was a poor, distracted loafer to say? I could not dealwith Jesus, for I saw that Teddy did not understand goodness. He knewthat I was kind, and he liked to kiss my hand slily, and rub his cheekon my knee; but abstract goodness and gentle words like those of Jesusdid not appeal to him. I was satisfied to have a queer creature thatfollowed me like a dog, and I am afraid that if he had lived I shouldhave made him a kind of heathen; but the luck was against me. Teddy'sfather came on a Sunday morning, and said, "If you don't mind, hismother'd like to 'ave him along to dinner to-morrow. We got a bit o'pork and a horrange spesshal for him. " So Teddy went home when the ditchwas in worse order than usual. He had been kept amid good air, and hewas clean--I washed him myself--and I fancy that the stenches poisonedhim simply because he could not become acclimatised to the alley again. Anyway, he was heavy and listless when he came back, and in two days Ihad to send for his father and mother. I am not going into any patheticdetails, for that is not my line. Night after night I walked the floorwith the youngster, and when the doctor said I should catch diphtheriaif I kissed him, I said I didn't care a damn, for I was wild. Then myboy went away. 

One night I was walking about the park in mad fashion while a hoarsegale roused a deep chorus among the trees. I could have sworn that mylad called to me. Then I went back and dropped into The Chequers. TheRamper said, "Wot cher, yer old bugaboo?" The Wanderer shouted, "Nowlet the trumpet to the kettle speak; the kettle to the cannoneerwithout. He comes! He comes!"

And I went home and stayed till dawn with the Wanderer. That is the waywe live. 

THE WANDERER AGAIN. 

Several racing men have warned me against the Wanderer, in theirpeculiarly friendly way. They want me to bet with _them_. But I like theBohemian, the blackleg, better than I do better men. Moreover, though Iam carefully informed that he is a blackleg, I find him honest. Hisstory has long been hanging in my mind, and we may as well take it atonce. 

Devine's runaway match turned out well for a time. When old Mr. Billitercame home and heard what had happened he fell in a fit, and, on hisrecovery, he went about for a long time moaning, "We'll never hold upour heads no more. " His friends thought he would lose his reason, for hewould stop people in the street, and say, "Have you a daughter? Killher, if you care for her. Mine's gone off with a hactor. " But the youngcouple were happy enough in reality, and Devine took the fancy of theNew Yorkers to such a degree that his engagement was extended over threeyears. Letty Devine led a gay, careless life; her husband had plenty ofmoney, and she was introduced to pleasures that made the frowsy life ofhome seem very repulsive. Devine was kind to her, and continued to playthe lover in his pompous style. She was proud of her man, too. He playedClaude Melnotte for his benefit once, and she longed to say to theladies in the theatre, "He belongs to me. How could she help beingfascinated with him? Where could you find such another princely being?"She felt a lump in her throat when the great house rose at her William, and the more so since she knew that her praise was more to him than allthe clamour of the theatre. Devine had begun by fortune-hunting, andended by loving his wife, though she did not bring him a penny. 

Those were merry days in New York. Champagne was plentiful as water, andWilliam Devine often came home in a very lively condition, but his wifedid not mind, for she thought that a man must have his glass. Women ofthe lower and middle classes have a great deal to do with supplyingcustomers to the public-house. Some of them drive their men there bynagging, but more of them lead a man on to drink by sheer indulgence. They encourage him to enjoy himself without thinking of the day whenenjoyment will be impossible, and when they and their children willreach the lowermost rung of the ladder of shame and penury. The Wandererwent merrily on his way, but his vice was steadily gaining on him, andhis nerve was going. He took a long engagement for an Australian tour, and carried on very loosely all the while; but Letty saw no change. Women never do until the very worst has happened. When Devine came toEngland he was eagerly looked after, and he should have fared well. Fora time he had engagements and money in plenty, but a subtle change wastaking place in him, and managers and audiences saw it, though theycould not say precisely where the deterioration had taken place. 

There is a certain sporting set of theatrical men who are very dangerouscompanions. Their daily work is exciting, and when they want changethey often gamble, because that is the only form of excitement which iskeener than the stir and tumult of the theatre. When Devine won threehundred pounds on one Derby he was a lost man. He pitted his witsagainst the bookmakers'; he took to loafing about with those flash, cunning fellows who appear to spend their mornings in bars and theirevenings in music-halls; he lost his ambition, and he began to lead adouble life. In the end he took to presenting himself at the theatre invarious stages of drunkenness, and on one unlucky night he practicallysettled his own fate by falling down on the stage after he had blunderedover his lines a dozen times. The public saw little of him after that, for he had not the power of Kean, or Cooke, or Brooke. 

They all go the same way when they slip as Devine did. You can meet themon the roads, in common lodging-houses, in the workhouse. The residuumis constantly recruited from the "comfortable" classes, and, out ofthousands of cases, I never knew half-a-dozen in which the cause was notdrink. I blame nobody. A drunkard is always selfish--the most selfish ofcreated beings--and his flashes of generosity are symptoms of disease. If he lives to be cured of his vice his selfishness disappears, and heis another man; but so long as he is mastered by the craving, all thingson earth are blotted out for him saving his own miserable personality. So far does the disease of egotism go, that it is impossible to find adrunkard who can so much as listen to another person; he is inexorablyimpelled to utter forth _his_ views with more or less incoherence. 

Devine, the tender husband, the kind father, became a mere slinker, ahaunter of tap-rooms, a weed. Sometimes he was lucky enough to win apound or two on a race, and that was his only means of support. Thechildren were ragged; Letty tried to live on tea and bread, but the lackof food soon brought her low, and from sheer weakness she became apitiful slattern. 

Mr. Billiter was informed that a woman "like a beggar" wanted to see himparticularly. He was about to order her off at first, but he finished bygoing to the door, and the beggar-woman went on her knees to him. Hetrembled; then he fairly lifted the poor soul up in his arms and sobbedhard. "My gal, my pooty as was. My little gal. To think as you nevercome before you was like this. I've bin dead since you was away. My 'artwas dead, my little gal. And you're goin' away no more, never no more, with no hactors. Sit down. Give me that shawl. Lord bless me, it's adish clout! And your neck's like a chicken's, and your breasts is allflat, as was round as could be. O me!"

But the good fellow's moanings soon fell on deaf ears, for Lettyfainted. When she came round, the servants fed her, and she began to cryfor the children. "Children if you like, but never him, " said Billiter;and he at once drove off to bring his darling's ragged little ones home. 

Devine was snoring on the floor when the old tradesman entered thelodging. There was no fire, no furniture, no food, and the half-nakedchildren were huddled together for warmth. The youngest two screamedwhen a rough man came in, for they thought it was the brokers once more. Billiter sent the eldest out for a candle, which he stuck in an emptygin-bottle. He looked at the snoring drunkard, and gave him acontemptuous push with his foot; but the one little boy screamed, "Younot touch my dada, you bad man!" and the old fellow was instantlyashamed. He said, "Now, my little dears, I want you to come to yourmamma. She sent me for you. We'll all go away in a warm carriage, andyou'll have something warm and nice to eat. Put the youngsters' clotheson, my gal. "

"We've none of us got any clothes, sir. "

"My God! Here, you sir--wake up. Sit against the wall. Do you see me?I've got your wife at home, and I'm going to take these kids. You'llhear from me to-morrow. "

"Devine finally woke just before the public-houses closed. He staggeredout, and, after his first drink, the memory of what had passed flashedback on him. He felt in his pockets. Yes! He had some money--a good dealas it happened, for he had put five shillings on a horse at 33 to 1. "Pull yourself together, Billy, " he muttered. "You must have a warm bedto-night, and face it out to-morrow. One more drink, and I'll have mybed here. "

In the morning he felt wretched, but when he had regained his nerve bythe usual method he acted like a man. First he wrote a letter to hiswife. (I saw the yellow old copy of it. )

"Dearest, --I had a bit of luck yesterday, and took too much on thestrength of it. I was carried home from this house, and I could notspeak to Lily or any of them. I deserve to lose you, and I will neverask you to come back unless there is no fear of more misery. But this Iwill do. I intend to maintain my own children, if I go and sell matches. I won eight pounds odd yesterday. I squandered one pound, I keep two tomake a fresh start, and you have the rest. While this heart shallbeat--yes, while memory holds her seat, as the poet says, you are dearto me. Once more, in the poet's words, I grapple you to my soul withhoops of steel. What has come over me I do not know, and when I wake tothe fact of my degradation I go madly to the drink again. But I willtry, and I implore your forgiveness. I cannot hope to see you often, andit is better that I should not, for I am worthless. But think of me, and, if I fall again and again, believe me that I shall go on strivingto do better. --Until death, I am your loving, W. DEVINE. "

"We don't want none of his 'oss-racin' money. Send it back, my gal, "growled old Billiter when he saw this letter. But the poor woman wouldnot hurt her husband. 

Devine found all respectable employments closed to him, and he was oftenin desperate straits; but he would always contrive to send something, ifit were only a half-crown, toward the support of his children. When hereached the Nadir of shabbiness, he touted in Piccadilly among the cabs, and picked up a few coppers in that way. For days he could abstain fromdrink, but that curse never left him, and he broke down again and again, only to repent and strive more fervently than ever. Alas! how weak weare. Surely we should help each other. I am often tempted to forgetthere is evil in the world. There are moments when I can almost pardonmyself, but that is too hard. Devine said he could not see Letty often. He only saw her once more. She was ailing and weakly, and one day sheput her arms round her father's neck, and whispered to him. He started, and growled, "All right, my gal; I deny you nothin'. Only I'll go out ofthe 'ouse before he comes. "

So William Devine was summoned, and he found his wife propped up in bed. Her hands were frail, and the bones of her arms stood out sharply. Theman was choking, Letty made an effort, lifted her arms, and drew himdown to her with an ineffable gesture of tenderness. "Oh, Will, I'm gladyou've come. How happy we were--how happy! I forget everything butthat. " Devine could not speak for a while. Letty said:

"You'll always be near the children, won't you?"

"So help me God! I'll give up my life to them. "

Then the doctor came, and the Wanderer saw his stricken wife no more. 

Devine bore many hardships before he was able to claim his children, andeven when he had rigged up a house fit to shelter them he was vigorouslyopposed by old Billiter. But he got his own way, and Letty's childrenjoined their father. 

And now I must speak of a strange thing. The room which the Wandereroccupies is bare of every comfort. When we sit together we rest ourglasses on the mantelpiece (for there is no table), and our feet are onthe boards. But one night Devine said, "Come up and see my pets inbed. " The young people were disposed in two absolutely comfortablerooms. Everything was neat and clean, and there were signs even ofluxury. "How is this? Squalor below, comfort here, " I thought. A littlegirl who was awake said, "Kiss me, papa, dear. " Her nightgown was whiteand pretty. All the clothes that lay around were good. "Now, see thechildren's room, " said my seedy host. "They live _there_. " And, behold!a perfectly comfortable place, fitted up with strong, good furniture. 

When we went down, the Wanderer helped himself from my flask. Then, withmajesty, he observed, "You marvel to see me so shabby? Sir, you mustknow that I wear my clothes till they are falling to pieces. I denymyself everything but the booze, and I never start on that till I'vehanded my daughter--bless her!--the best part of the money. I made apromise to a saint, sir. I couldn't drop the liquor. It's my master, soI fight as long as I can and get better as soon as possible after it'sover. I'm wrong to give way and spend money on it. I can't help myself. But I give all but my drink-money to them. Sir, I am content to meetthe scoffs of respectability; I think only of my children in my sobermoments. On the racecourse I'm a gambler, I'm a blackleg (if you believeall you hear); but when the horses are passing the post and all thepeople are mad, I am quite quiet. I pray sir, to win; but I only praybecause my children's faces are before me. Yes, sir, take away the drinkand give me a chance of honest work and I might nearly be a good man. "

The fellow's face grew almost youthful as he spouted, and I thought, "That little girl upstairs is very young. Her father is not an old manafter all. " Old he looks--battered, scared, frail; but he has a youngheart. What a compound! The more I meditate, the more I am convincedthat we shall have to invent a new morality. The standards whereby wejudge men are far too rigid. Who shall say that Devine is bad? He is avictim to the disease of alcoholism, and his disease brings with it fitsof selfishness. But there is another Devine--the real man--who isneither diseased nor selfish; and both are labelled as disreputable. When next I see poor Billy on the floor after his yelling fit I shallthink of him in a friendly way. More than ever I am convinced by hisfate that all the high-flying legislation, all the preaching ofmorality, all pulpit abstractions count for nothing. The best men musttry by strenuous individual exertions to combat the subtle curse whichhas converted the good, generous Billy Devine into a mean debauché. I amout of it. I smoke with Billy, I clink glasses with Billy, I laugh atBilly's declamations, and I am often muddled when I leave Billy in themorning. He illustrates sordidly a chapter of England's history. I wishhe didn't. 

THE ROBBERY. 

I was robbed last night, and it served me right for being a fool. Aseedy, down-looking man hangs about The Chequers all day, and he neverdoes any work except stick up the pins in the skittle alley. He has asly, secret look, and I fancy he is one of the stupid class ofcriminals. We often talk together, but there is not much to be got outof him; he usually keeps his eye on someone else's pewter, and he iscatholic in his taste for drinks. Of late he has been accompanied bythree other persons--a stout, slatternly woman, whom he named as hiswife; a rather pretty, snub-nosed girl, who dresses in tawdry prints;and a red-faced, thick-set, dark fellow, who grins perpetually and showsa nice set of teeth. The elder man confidentially informed me that thestout young man was his son-in-law. 

We had been a long time acquainted before I learned anything definiteabout these four. The girl usually arrives about half-past ten; shespends money freely, and the four always take home a huge can of beer. Some while ago the young man--Blackey he is nicknamed--went out, and Ifollowed him quietly. He had been affable with me all the evening, andwent so far as to offer me a drink. It struck me that he was indirectlytrying to pump me, for he said, "You don't talk like none of us. Ireckon you've been on the road. " Moreover, when we met he had saluted methus, "Sarishan Pala. Kushto Bak, " and this salutation happens to beRommany. As we pursued our talk, he inquired, "You rakker Rommanis?"(You speak the gipsy tongue?) and I answered, "Avo. " I could see that hewanted to establish some bond of communication between us, and that waswhy I followed him. As I quietly came up behind him he said, "That'stacho like my dad. I dicked a bar and a pash-crooner. " (That's as trueas can be. I saw a sovereign and a half-crown. ) He was not comfortablewhen he saw me, and I knew I had been a fool to let him know that Ispoke Rommany. However, I passed on as if I had not heard a word. Thefellow had no doubt been told that I was a tramp, and he put a feeler tofind out whether I knew the language of the road. Next day we met veryearly. I had stayed out all night with some poachers, and I was in TheChequers by half-past seven in the morning. Master Blackey was therealso, and we exchanged greetings. He was blotchy and his eyes seemedheavy; moreover, he was without a drink, and I correctly guessed that hehad no money. My evil genius prompted me to ask for brandy-and-soda, which was the last thing I should have done, and Blackey said, "Usblokes can't go for sixpenny drinks. Let me 'ave a drappie levinor. " Thegipsy word for ale was quietly dropped in, and I ordered the right stuffas if nothing unusual had been said. Then it flashed on me. "This beautyhas heard of me from the Suffolk gipsies; he knows that I carry moneysometimes, and he wants to find out if I am really the laulo Rye. " (TheSurrey Roms call me the Boro Rye; the Suffolk Roms call me laulo Rye. )

For a good while after this the times seemed to be rather bad for thefour companions. Several times I saw Blackey mutter savagely when thegirl came in, and it was easy to see that he was not a full-blood gipsy, or he would never have threatened to strike her in a public bar. Then ithappened that I heard a yell one night as I was stealing around theby-streets after most of the drunken people had gone home. A man's voicegrowled harshly--it was like the snarl of a wild beast, --"Three nightsyou done no good. Blarst yer slobberin'! you ain't got no more savveythan a blank blank cow. I'd put a new head on yer for tuppence. "

A woman answered, "You've struck me, you swine; and if I've got a blackeye I'll quod you, sure as I'm yere. Ain't I lushed you, and fed you, and found your clobber long enough?"

"Garn, you farthin' face! Shet your neck. "

"All very fine, Mister Blackey, but how would you like a smack in thebloomin' eye? I done the best as I knew for you, and there ain't a blokeround as has a judy wot'll go where I goes and hand over the wongur. "

"Never mind, I was waxy when I done it. Maybe we'll 'ave some luck tomorrow'. "

I was hidden all this time, and I kept very quiet until the pair movedaway. Over my last pipe I had many meditations, and formed my ownconclusions about Master Blackey. 

There are, as I have said, thousands of fellows who have never done anywork, and never mean to do any; they are born in various grades of life;the public-house is their temple; they live well and lie warm, and youcan see a fine set of them in the full flush of their hoggish jollity atany suburban race meeting. Blackey was a fair specimen of his tribe;they are often pleasant and plausible in a certain way, and it is reallya pity that they cannot be forcibly drafted into the army, for they arealways men of fine physique. They are vermin, if you like, but howadmirably we protect them, and how convenient are the houses of callwhich we provide for them. 

I went warily to work with Blackey, but I was resolved all the same tosee him in his home. It happens that even Blackey's household has ahanger-on, who also happens to be a parasite of mine. He is a lanky, weedy lad, with a foxy face. His dark, oblique-set eyes, his highcheek-bones, his sharp chin, are vulpine to the last degree, and, as heslouches along with his shoulders rucked up and his knees bent, helooks like the Representative Thief. He is called Patsey, and Ifrequently spare him a copper; but his chief patron is Blackey, whooften hands him the dregs of a pot of beer. 

Yesterday morning Patsey waylaid me, but I waved him off. At night hecaught me going in at the back gate of The Chequers; his hand trembledas he clutched my arm, and he said with chattering teeth, "Give me adollar, and I'll tell you somethin'. "

"Tell me the something first, and then we'll see about the dollar. "

"Don't you go near Blackey's place to-night. They're a goin' to ast youif they kin. Blackey's found out as you've got respectable relations aswouldn't like to see your name in the papers, and he's goin' to 'ave anew lay on. 'Taint no bloomin' error neither. The gal--Tilley, don't-cherknow--she'll say, 'I'll walk home with you a bit, ' whenBlackey's out. He meets you, and he says, 'Wot 'cher doin' 'long o' mywife? Didn't I trust you at home? I'll expose you. ' _She ain't no morehis wife than I am_, so you look out. "

"That's worth a dollar, Patsey. Now sneak you into the stables, anddon't come near me all night. "

I was quite at ease, and became convivial with Blackey and his worthyfather-in-law. The only thing that worried me was the knowledge that Ihad one note in my watch-pocket besides my loose spending money. Still Ifelt sure of dodging the gang, and I tried to appear innocent aspossible while the artless Blackey offered me liquor after liquor; andhe remarked at about ten, "My missus orfen says to me, 'Why don't youfetch him home?' she says. If he brings a bottle we'll find our lot, andhe'll be just as jolly as he is at Billy Devine's. What say to come downto-night?"

"All right, only not too late. "

At twelve we departed, and I was taken to a row of low cottages, which, however, were fairly solid and neat. At first we sat in a kitchen, and Iwas accommodated with a tub for a seat. Our light came from the fire anda dull lamp, which only made a reddened twilight in the air. The fatwoman watched me like a cat, and I fancied that her mouth was like thatof a carnivorous beast. The sly old man looked on the ground, but hisstealthy eye--like the eye of a cunning magpie--glittered sometimes ashe turned it on me. Blackey was most cordial, and soon proposed a song. He obliged first, and warbled some ghastly affair which aimed at beingnautical in sentiment. The chorus contained some observations like"Hilley-hiley-Hilley-ho, " and it also gave us the information thatgentleman named Jack would shortly come home from the sea. The thing wasa silly Cockney travesty of a sailor's song, but we were all pleasedwith it, and it led the way nicely to the girl's ditty, which statedthat somebody was going sailing, sailing, over the bounding main(sailors always mention the sea as the bounding main), and by easy stepswe got to the fat woman's "Banks of Hallan Worrrtter. " We were a jovialcompany: four of us were wondering how they could rob the fifth, andthat fifth resolved, quite early in this sèance, to use hisknuckle-duster promptly, and to prevent either of the male warblers fromgetting behind him, at any risk. About three o'clock the junior ladyplaced herself on my knee, and her husband approvingly described her asa bloomin' baggage. I did not like the special perfume which my friendemployed for her hair, and I also disliked the evidences which went toprove that the bath was not her favourite luxury; but we did not fallout, and, after a spell of sprightly song, we all indulged in a dance ofthe most spirited description. Drink was plentiful, and, as I saw I wasbeing plied very freely, I pretended to be eager for more. This modifiedthe strategy of my friends, for they were reasonably anxious to secure askinful, and they feared lest my powers might prove to be abnormal. Fourwatching like wild beasts! One waiting, and calculating chances! Thesullen, grey-eyed old man had taken on the aspect of a ferret; the fatwoman was like that awful wretch who meets the pale girl in Hogarth's"Marriage à la Mode;" the bastard gipsy smiled in "leary" fashion, as ifhe were coming up for the second round of a fight, and knew that he hadit all own way. I pumped up jokes, and my snub-nosed charmer pretendedto laugh. Ah! what a laugh. 

This was the position when Blackey declared that he must go. "Got toshunt, old man? You squat still, now, and git through that there lotion. I got to go to market, and we ain't no bloomin' moke. I'm on on mystand ten o'clock--no later--and that wants doin'. The missus'll fetchme some corrfee, and, hear you, put a nip o' that booze in. It warms yerliver up. By-by. Mind you stay, now, and no faint hearts. Mother, upwith your heavy wet, and try suthin' short. I'm off!"

With an ostentatious farewell, the excellent Blackey stumped off, andthe four remaining revellers became staid. 

"'Ard times, " said the ferret-faced man; "but we've 'ad _one_ good nightout on it anyways. "

"How do you make your living, may I ask, if that's a fair question, mate?" This question was addressed by _me_ to the sly man, and he wasembarrassed. 

"Livin'! 'Taint no livin'. It's lingerin'. Leastways it would be if itwasn't for my gell, Tilley, there. 'Er and 'er 'usban' gives us a 'and;an' if you've got a bit about you you might 'elp us put our copper torights. Got a thick 'un? I'll pay it back, s'elp me Gord, if the missuscan start laundryin' agin'. "

I saw that this meant "Show us which pocket you keep your money in, " soI shamelessly said, "I'll put that square in the morning, governor. "Then some silly small-talk--petty as children's babble, low as thecackle of the bar--went on, and I found myself somehow left alone withthe snub-nosed young person. She was evidently in some trouble, and Iwas the more interested about her in that I chanced to look at a sidewindow, and found the fat, carnivorous woman and the down-looking mansurveying us with interest, under the impression that they wereinvisible. 

Now, I have never cared for talking to girls of her class, for I do notlike them. All talk about soiled doves and the rest is mere nauseoustwaddle, arising from ignorance. The creatures take to their racketylife because they like it, and, though I have met some good and kindmembers of their class, I have observed that the majority are rapacious, cruel, and devoid of every human sentiment that does not hinge on hungeror vanity. You may treat a man as an equal in spite of his vices, and dono harm, but to treat a woman as an equal _because_ of her vices isworse than folly. This silly creature proposed to brush my hair. I hadencouraged her to familiarity, so I did not object to the toiletprocess, but I did most strongly object to sniffing at a bottle whichshe said would "freshen me up amazing. " She withdrew the cork, andmemories of the college laboratory struck at my brain withsudden violence on the instant. The unforgettable odour of ethyllicchloride caught at my nerves, and I politely rose. 

"Pardon me, I must go. It will be daylight in half an hour, " I said, forI saw that merry Miss Tilley had been ready to supplement Blackey'sdevice by a second trick. 

"I'll come with you a little way. You're dotty a bit. "

I reached the fresh air and quietly said, "No, you mustn't. The men aregoing to factory up by the Fawcett-road, and every second man we meetwill know us. "

Miss Tilley muttered something, but she preserved her smile and onlysaid, "I tell my husband as you took care of us. "

As I stole through the heavy fog I thought, "Now, what business had Ithere? If my mother had seen that wretched servant girl brushing my hairthe old lady would have died--I, the child of many prayers, the hope ofa house, and stumping home on a foggy morning after sitting among thescum of earth all night. I mean to be a philosopher, but what a beastly, silly school to cultivate political philosophy in! What do I know morethan I knew before?--that one vulgar girl maintains three vulgarcriminals, and that all the four will come whining to the workhouse whenthe game is played out and they can rob no one else. They are creatureswhose vices and idleness and general villany are engendered amid drink. They are the foul fungi that fatten on the walls of the public-house;that is all. And I have given them more drink only to see them plan arobbery. Seventy thousand of them in London? Yes. But supposing a fewthousands of _us_, instead of being indifferent, instead of 'exploring'in my harum-scarum way, go to work and try to give these creatures achance of living human lives? What then? Would Blackey or the girl orthe wicked old folk have gone to the bar and eaten away their moralitywith alcohol if they had not been driven out by the stinking dulness ofthat kitchen? I don't know. I only know that when this spell is over Ishall have some corrections to address to the people who stick upinstitutes, and organise charitable funds. I can offer myself as thehorrid example, if they like, and that should impress them. "

Then my musings were checked, for I had to cross a wooden bridge overthe odious stream that poisoned Teddy, and the fog was like flyinggruel. Carefully I picked my way over the bridge, and aimed for thedark, narrow lane that led towards my abode. I remember thinking, "Whata place this would be if we were troubled with footpads!" Then came apause. Now you know how sound travels in a fog? I saw two posts standingshadowily before me; then the posts appeared to fade away, or to beclosed up in the brown haze; then I distinctly heard a whisper, "Heain't got her with him. You come after me. " I was stooping, and peeringto find out who whispered. Wrench! I grasped at my neck. Crack! A soundlike the clanking of chains rattled in my head; a flash of many colouredflame shot before my eyes; a hundred memories came vividly to me, and Ithought I was a boy again, and then I remember no more, until some voicesaid, "Feelin' better?"

I was a little sick, and my head was bleeding, but otherwise I hadsuffered no harm, and I could walk. It was as though I had received aknock-down blow in a fight, and that does not hurt one for long. But howlucky that the water was out of the mill stream! I had been pitched intoabout six inches of water, and a policeman who heard the splash jumpedover some rails, and cut across a private paddock in time to save mefrom being smothered in the mud. It is now midnight; I have a man withme, and I am not quite so vigorous as I could wish, but my head isclear, and to-morrow there will only be the criss-cross mass ofsticking-plaster to tell that I have been felled and robbed. I shall tryto pay Mr. Blackey out. Meantime the police and public should rememberthat many men in London pick up a living by arranging humorous littlemidnight interviews like that which I went through. Only theprofessionals work on the Thames Embankment, and the "bashed" man, instead of going into six inches of mud, never is heard of again tillhis carcass is brought before the coroner. 

ONE OF OUR ENTERTAINMENTS. 

We have lately had "sport" brought to our very doors, and a pretty crewoffered themselves for my study. In the diseased life of the city manyodious human types are developed, but none are so horrible as those thatcrop up at sporting gatherings of various sorts. I have never doubtedthe existence of an impartial, beneficent Ruling Power save when I havebeen among the scum of the sporting meetings. At those times I oftenfailed to understand why a good God could permit beings to remain onearth whose very presence seems at once to insult the pure sky and thememory of Christ. If you go away for a few weeks and live among simplefishermen or hinds you become proud of your countrymen. On wild nights, when the black waves galloped down on our vessel and crashed along ourdecks, I have felt my heart glow as I watched the cool seamen pickingup their ropes and working deftly on amid the roaring darkness. Thefishers are sober, splendid men, who face death with never a tremor, andtoil on usefully day after day. Come away from their broad, sanesimplicity and courage, and look upon the infamous hounds who are bredin the congested regions--you are sickened and depressed. 

I notice that the sporting gang talk only of betting, thieving, whoremongering, or fighting. With regard to the latter pursuit, theirviews are distinctly peculiar. A sudden, murderous rush in a crowdedbar, a quick, sly blow, and a run away--that is their notion of a manlycombat. In the days of the Tipton Slasher two Englishmen would fightfairly like bulldogs for an hour at a stretch; no man thought of crowingabout a chance bit of bloodshed, or even a knock-down, for it wasunderstood that the combatants should fight on until one could not rise;then they shook hands, and were friends. But the brutes whom I now seeare transformed Englishmen; they know that a fair upstanding contestwould not suit them, and their object is to land one cunning blow, thento make as much noise as possible so as to attract attention. It iscruelly funny to see a gaping blackguard, who has chanced to givesomeone a black eye or a swollen nose, swaggering round like an absurdbantam, and posing as a sort of athletic champion. The gang are nearlyalways full of stories about their miserable scrambling fights, andanyone might fancy he had got among a regular corps of paladins to hearthem vapour. One marvellously vile betting person haunts me like adisease. The animal has a head like a sea-urchin, his lips are blubbery, his tongue is too big for his mouth, and his face is like one that yousee in a nightmare. The ugly head is stuck on a body which resembles asack of rancid engine grease. This beauty is a fairly representativespecimen of our bold sportsmen. He is a deft swindler, and I have gazedwith blank innocence while he rooked some courageous simpleton attossing. The fat, rancid man can do almost as he chooses with a handfulof coins, and the marvellous celerity with which sovereigns or halfpenceglide between his podgy fingers is quite fascinating. On the subjects ofadultery and fighting this object is great, and his foul voice resoundsgreasily amid our meetings of brave sportsmen. He is accompanied by achoice selection of gay spirits, and I take leave to say that thepopular conception of hell is quite barren and poor compared with thehowling reality that we can show on any day when a little "sport" is tothe fore. I am tolerant enough, but I do seriously think that there arecertain assemblies which might be wiped out with advantage to the worldby means of a judicious distribution of prussic acid. 

Among my weaknesses must be numbered a strong fancy for keeping dogs ofvarious breeds. When you come to understand the animals you can makefriends of them, and I have lived in perfect contentment for months at astretch with no company but my terriers. A favourite terrier often goesabout with me now, and the other day Mr. Landlord said, with insinuatingsoftness, "We must have your pup entered for our coursing meeting. " Itmattered little to me one way or the other, so I paid the entrance fee, and forgot all about the engagement. Coursing with terriers is a verypopular "sport" in the south country, and the squat little white-and-tandogs are bred with all the care that used to be bestowed on fine strainsof greyhounds. I cannot quite see where the sport comes in, but manymen of all classes enjoy it, and I have no mind to find fault with aremarkable institution which has taken fast root in England. Allcoursing is cruel; a hare suffers the extremity of agony from the momentwhen she hears the thud of the dogs' feet until she is whirled round andshaken in those deadly jaws. I lay once amongst straggling furze while ahare and two greyhounds rushed down towards me. Puss had travelled amile on a Suffolk marsh, and she was failing fast. As she neared me thegreyhounds made a violent effort, and the foremost one struck justopposite my hiding-place. Never in my life have I seen such a picture ofagony; the poor little beast wrung herself sharp round with ascream--such a scream!--and the dog only succeeded in snatching amouthful of fur. He lay down, and the hare hobbled into the cover. Icould see her tremble. The same sort of torture is inflicted when haresare bundled out of an enclosure with the rapidity and precision ofmachinery. There is a wild flurry, an agony of one minute or so, and allis over. 

The mystery of man's cruelty is inexplicable to me; I feel the madblood pouring hard when the quarry rushes away, and the snaky dogs dashfrom the slips; no thought of pity enters my mind for a time because themysterious wild-man instinct possesses me, and so I suppose that theprimeval hunter is ignobly represented by the people who go to seerabbit coursing. We have been refining and refining, and educating thepeople for a good while; yet our popular sports seems to grow more andmore cruel. We do not bait bulls now, but we worry hares and rabbits bythe gross, we massacre scores of pretty pigeons--sweet little birds thatare slaughtered without a sign of fair play. 

Decidedly the Briton likes the savour of blood to mingle with hispleasures. A thousand of ordinary men will gather at Gateshead or Hanleyand howl with delight when two wiry whippets worry a stupefied rabbit. They are decent fellows in their way, and they generally have a rigididea of fairness; but they fail to see the unfairness of hooking arabbit out of a sack and setting him to run for his life in an enclosurefrom which he cannot possibly escape. Pastimes that do not involve thedeath of something or the wagering of money are accounted tame. It isone of the riddles that make me wish I could not think at all. I give itup, for I am only a Loafer, and the dark problems of existence arebeyond me. 

Perhaps they are beyond Mr. Herbert Spencer. 

Our ragged regiment met in a wide, quiet field. Nearly all my costerswere about, and they cried "Wayo!" with cordiality. Half the company onthe field could not muster threepence in the world; many of them wereprobably hungry; many were far gone in drink; but all were eager for"sport. " We shall have some talk presently about the bitter ennui of thepoor man's life. The existence of that deadly ennui never was broughtbefore me so vividly as it was when I saw that queer multitude, forgetting hunger, cold, poverty, pain--and forgetting because they wereabout to see some rabbits worried!

On a low stand stood a broad pair of scales and an immense hamper. Thestand was watched by a red-faced merryandrew, who gibbered and yelled ina vigorous manner. A funny reprobate is that old person. Every hour ofhis life is given over to the search for excitement; he is never dull;he has a cheery word for all whom he meets; he will drink, fight, andeven make love, with all the ardour of youth. When there is nothing moreexciting to do, he will drive a trotter for twenty miles at break-neckpace. When he dies, his life's work may be easily summed up:--He drankso many quarts of ale; he killed so many pigeons and rabbits. Nothingmore. 

My terrier made a ferocious dash at the big hamper, and I knew that ourvictims were there. Presently the dogs began to arrive, and I was amazedand amused to see some of the little brutes. They could no more catch arabbit on fair ground than they could pull down a locomotive; but thelong railway journey, the strange field, and the clamorous mob renderpoor Bunny almost helpless, and he gives up his life only too easily. The best of the terriers were beautiful wretches with iron muscles and ageneral air of courageous wickedness. Their bloodthirstiness wasappalling; they knew exactly what was to happen, and their sharp yellsof rapture made a din that set my head swimming. Each of them writhedand strained at the collar, and I caught myself wondering what the poorrabbits thought (can they think?) as they heard the wild chiming ofthat demon pack. In the country, when a dog gives tongue Bunny sits upand twirls his ears uneasily; then, even if the bark is heard from afaroff, the little brown beast darts underground. Alas! there is nofriendly burrow in this bleak field, and there is no chance of escape;for the merry roughs will soon finish any rabbit that shows the dogs aclean pair of heels. 

The ceremony of weighing was completed in a dignified way, and the firstbrace of dogs went to the slipper. One was a sprightly smooth terrier, with a long, richly-marked head; he was quivering with anticipation, andhis demeanour offered a marked contrast to that of the dour, composedbrute pitted against him. The rabbit was lifted out of the hamper by oneof those greasy nondescript males, who are always to be seen when pigeonshooting or coursing is going on. The greasy being held the rabbit bythe ears, and put it temptingly near the dogs. The sprightly terrierwent clean demented; the sullen one stood with thoughtful earnestnesswaiting for a chance to catch the start. When the rabbit was put down itcowered low and seemed trying to shrink into the ground; its ears werepressed hard back, its head was pressed closely to the grass, and it washuddled in an ecstasy of terror. Of course that is quite usual, but wepractical sportsmen cannot waste time over the sentimental terrors of arabbit. The greasy man uttered a howl, and Bunny started up, ran in acircle, and then set off for the fence. I was struck by the animal'smode of running. For hours I have watched them feeding, at early morningor sundown, and I have noticed that as they shifted from place to placethey moved with a slow kind of hop, gathering their hind legs under themat each stride. When Bunny is on his own ground he is one of the fastestof four-footed things. He lays himself down to the ground, and travelsat such a terrific pace for about forty yards that he looks like a merestreak on the ground. I never yet saw a terrier that could turn a rabbitunless Bunny was imprudent enough to wander more than one hundred yardsfrom home. But this wretched brute in our field was moving at the paceproper to feeding time, and, judging by its deliberate sluggishness, itseemed to be inviting death. When the short pitter-patter of theterriers' feet sounded on the grass, Bunny made a clumsy attempt toquicken his pace; the leading dog plunged at him, and by a convulsiveeffort the rabbit managed to swirl round and get clear. Then the seconddog shot in; then came one or two quick, nervous jerks from side toside; then the beaten creature faltered, and was instantly seized andswung into the air. A good wild rabbit would have been half-way acrossthe next field, but that unhappy invalid had no chance. 

The other courses were of much the same character, for the rabbit, beingused to run on a beaten path, has not the resource and dexterity of thehare. One strong specimen distanced the pair of tiny weeds that were setafter him, but the pack of roughs were whooping at the border of thefield, and the doomed rabbit was soon clutched and pocketed. 

The betting was furious; a few hard-faced, well-dressed men did theirwagering quietly and to heavy amounts, but the mob yelled and squabbledand cursed after their usual manner, and they were all ready to drinkwhen we returned. This is a fair description of rabbit coursing, and Ileave influential persons to decide as to whether or no it is a usefulor improving form of entertainment. I have my doubts, but must beseverely impartial. I will say this, however, that if any one of us hadspent the afternoon over a good novel, or something of that kind, hewould have been taken out of himself, and, when he rose, his mind wouldhave been filled with quiet and gracious thoughts. Our gang weresuffering from a form of the lust for blood; they were thirsty, and theywere possessed by that species of excitement which makes a man ready toturn savage on any, or no, provocation. 

The bar was like the place of damned souls until eight o'clock:everybody roared at the top of his voice; nobody listened to anybodyelse, and everybody drank more or less feverishly. We had a supper tocelebrate the destruction of the rabbits, and afterwards the truculentgentlemen, who had bellowed so vigorously in the field, sang sentimentalsongs about "Mother, dear mother, " "Stay with me, my darling, stay, " orpatriotic songs referring to an article of drapery known as "The Flag ofOld Hengland. "

For half-an-hour our intricate choruses resounded as we went in groupsdeviously homeward, and a few members of our sporting flock dotted thepaths at wide intervals. 

That kind of thing goes on all over the country in the winter time. Itis not for me to preach, but I must say that it seems to be a barrenkind of game. Can any man of the crowd think kindly or clearly about anysubject under the sun? I fancy not. My own real idea of the character ofthe various mobs that see the rabbits die is such that I could notventure to frame it in words. The sport is so mean, so trivial, sopurposeless, that I should go a long way to avoid seeing it now that Iknow the subject well. 

And that unspeakably atrocious pettiness forms the only relaxation of avery considerable number of Englishmen. If any member of a corporationwere to propose that a great hall should be opened free, and that goodmusic should be provided at the expense of the community, I supposethere would be a deal of grumbling; but I am ready to prove thatexpenses indirectly caused by our mad "sporting" would more than coverthe cost of a rational spell of pleasure. 

Honourable gentlemen and worthy aldermen are allowing a great mass ofpeople to remain in a brutalised condition; those people only derivepleasure from the suffering of dumb creatures. 

How will it be if the callous crew take it into their heads at some orother to show restiveness? Will they deal gently or thoughtfully withthose against whom their enmity is turned? Certainly their education byno means tends to foster gentleness and thoughtfulness. If I were astatesman instead of a Loafer, I reckon I should try might and main tohumanise those neglected folk--and they _are_ neglected--before theyteach some of us a terrific lesson. 

I see that one "Walter Besant" has some capital notions concerning thesubject which I have ventured to touch on. If he were a rough--as I amduring much of my time--he would be able to talk more to the purpose. Still, I deliberately say that that novelist, who is often treated as amoony creature, is a very wise and practical statesman, and he has usedhis opportunities well. If powerful people do not very soon pay heed tohis message, they will have reason for regret. 

The worst of it is that one is constantly being forced to wonder whetherculture is of any use. For instance, on the day after the coursing, Ifell in with a smart lad who loafs about race meetings, and whosometimes visits the landlord's parlour at the Chequers. He has been ayear out of Oxford, and he is rather a pretty hand at classics; yet hetries to look and talk like a jockey, and his mother has to keep himbecause he won't do any work. A shrewd little thing he is, and this ishow we talked:--

"Shall I drive you over to the meeting to-morrow?"

"If you like. "

"We can do a bit together if you'll dress yourself decently. Barrettsays there's a new hunter coming out. It could win the Cesarewitch with8st. 4lb. , but they mean keeping his hunter's certificate. Put a biton. "

"Wait till we see. "

"Lord! If I could get the mater to part--only a pony--I'd buy a satcheland start bookmaking in the half-crown ring myself. It's Tom Tiddler'sground if you've got a nut on you. "

"Queer work for a 'Varsity man?"

"Deed sight better than bear-leading, or going usher in a school. Fun!Change! Fly about! What more do you want?"

"Do you like to hear the ring curse? Dick and Alf often make megoose-skinned. "

"What matter, so you cop the ready?"

"Do you read now?"

"Not such a Juggins. I think my Oxford time was all wasted. Of course, Iliked to hear Jowett palaver, and it was quiet and nice enough; but giveme life. Bet all day; dinner at the Rainbow, Pav. , or Trocadéro, andGlobe to finish up. That's life!"

If anyone had chances this youth had them, and now his ambition is tobet half-crowns with the riddlings of Creation. This universe is gettingto be a little too much for me. Come down, pipe; I shall go in theChequers parlour to-night, and play the settled citizen. 

MERRY JERRY AND HIS FRIENDS. 

I never saw such a cheerful face as Jerry's. Master Blackey can smileand smile; he can smile on me even now, though I know almost to acertainty that it was he who left that discoloured ring round my throatnot long ago. But Blackey can scowl also, whereas Jerry never ceases tolook benignant and jolly. He is a fine young fellow is Jerry, six feethigh, straight as a lance, ruddy, clear-skinned, and with the bluest, brightest eye you can see. When he walks he is upright and stately asthe best of Guardsmen, without any military stiffness; when he spars heis active as a leopard, and his mode of landing with his left is at onceterrible and artistic. Sometimes he drinks a little too much, and thenhis sweet smile becomes fatuous, but he never is unpleasant. The girlsfrom the factory admire him sincerely; they call him Merry Jerry, andhe accepts their homage with serenity. He never takes the trouble toshow any deference towards his admirers; their amorous glances andgiggling are inevitable tributes to his fascinations, and he takes itall as a matter of course. Like Blackey and the Ramper, Jerry never doesany work, and he is supposed to have private means. His speech is quitecorrect, and even elegant, and although he does not converse on exaltedtopics, he is a singularly pleasant companion in his way. Most of histalk is about horse-racing, and he never reads anything but the sportingpapers. In that taste he resembles most of those who go to The Chequers. The wrangling, the cursing, the whispered confidences that make up thenightly volume of noise nearly all have reference to racing subjects. The raggedest wretch at the bar puts on horsey airs when any great raceis to be decided; he may not know a horse from a mule, but he invariablyvolunteers his opinion, and if he can raise a shilling he backs hisfancy. Polite gentlemen in Parliament and elsewhere do not appear toknow that there are something like one million British adults whosechief interest in life (apart from their necessary daily work) iscentred on racing. I think I know almost every town in England, and Inever yet in all my wanderings settled at an inn without finding thatbetting of some sort or other formed the main subject of conversation. Hundreds of times--literally hundreds--I have known whole eveningsdevoted to discussing the odds. The gamblers were usually men who didnot care to see horses gallop; they chatted about names, and thatsatisfied them. A clerk, a mechanic, a tradesman, a traveller, apublican asks his friend what he has done over such and such a race, just as he asks after the friend's health. It is taken for granted thateverybody bets, and really intelligent fellows will stare at you inastonishment if you say that you are not interested in the result of arace. If I chose to make a book--only dealing in small sums--I couldcontrive to win a fair amount every week by merely "betting to figures. "The bookmaker does not need to visit a racecourse; he is required towork out a sort of algebraical problem on each race, and, by exercisinga little shrewdness, he may leave himself a small balance on everyevent. Small sums in silver are always forthcoming to almost anyextent, and a clever man who has no more than £100 capital to start withmay pitch his tent almost anywhere, and make sure of getting plenty ofcustom. People speak of the Italians as gamblers, but in Italy gamblingis not nearly so prevalent as in England. In Manchester alone onesporting journal has a morning and evening edition, and there are dailypapers in most of the large Yorkshire towns. In the North-country I haveoften watched the workmen during the breakfast half-hour, and found thatthey did not care a rush for anything in the paper save the sportingnews. In London two great journals are published daily, and twice a weekeach of them issues a double number. Every line of these papers isdevoted to sport, and each of them is a rich estate to the proprietor. 

The mania for betting grows more acute every day, the number of wealthybookmakers increases, and the national demoralisation has reached adepth which would seem inconceivable to anyone who has not lived withall sorts and conditions of men. A racing man is apt to become incapableof concentrating his mind on anything except his one pursuit. Hundredsof thoughtful and cultured people race a little and bet a little by wayof relaxation; but these take no harm. It is the ignorant, ill-balancedfolk, without higher interests, who suffer. 

Well-meaning persons spend money on respectable institutes for workingmen, but the men do not care for staid, dull proceedings after theirwork is over; they want excitement. A moderately heavy bet supplies themwith a topic for conversation; it gives them all the keen pleasures ofanticipation as the day of the race draws near, and when they open thepaper to see the final result they are thrilled just as a gambler isthrilled when he throws the dice. No wonder that the mild and moralplaces of recreation are left empty; no wonder that the public-housesare well filled. If I were asked to name two things which interest theEnglish nation to the supreme degree, I should say--first, Sport;second, Drink. If the strongest Ministry that ever took office attemptedto make betting a criminal offence, they would be turned out in a month. Betting is now not a casual amusement, but a serious national pursuit. The perfect honesty with which payments are made by agents is amazing. A man who bets on commission for others may have £100, 000 to lay out ona race; every farthing is accounted for, and dishonesty among the highergrades of the betting brotherhood is practically unknown. It is thisrigid observance of the point of honour that tempts people like our gangin The Chequers bar to risk their shillings; they know that if they makea right guess their payment is safe. The statesman who called the turf"a vast instrument of national demoralization" was quite right, and ifhe could have lived to take a tour round the country in this year ofgrace he would have seen the flower of his nation given over to meanfrivolity. 

Jerry has tutored me in racing matters. He has not a thought that is notderived from the columns of the sporting prints, and his life is passedmainly in searching like a staunch terrier for "certainties. " When he isdisposed to be communicative, he soon gathers quite an audience in TheChequers, and should he drop a phrase like "George Robinson said to me, 'I've made my own book for Highflyer, '" or "Charley White, the Duke'sMotto, wouldn't lay Mountebank any more, " the awe-stricken costersstare. Here is a man, a regular toff, and no error--a man who knowssuch Ringmen as Robinson and White--and yet he will speak to ordinarycoves without exhibiting the least pride!

Jerry has taken me round to the best haunts where gallant sportsmenassemble, and for some mysterious reason, his escort has secured for methe most flattering deference. Queer holes he knows by the score. Ithought I had seen most things; but I find I am a babe compared withJerry. He once said to me, "Would you like to see a couple of ladsset-to? Real good 'uns. " I had seen a great number of encounters; but mytwo pounds handed over to Jerry procured me a sight of a battle whichwas the most desperate affair I ever witnessed. But for the close, oppressive atmosphere of the room where the fight took place, the wholebusiness would have been interesting. The spectators were well dressedand well behaved, the boxers were beautiful athletes, and there wasnothing repulsive about the swift exchange of lightning blows until thebaking heat began to tell on the men; then it was disagreeable to seetwo gallant fellows panting and labouring for breath. We often hearthat boxing is discredited. Rubbish! Ask Jerry about that, and you willlearn that any company of men who care to subscribe £25 may see a combatwherein science, courage, and endurance are all displayed lavishly. 

Jerry was much interested in dog fighting, which latter pleasing pastimeis enjoyed quite freely in London to an extent that would amaze thegentlemen who rejoice over the decline of brutality in Britain. 

The competitive instinct which once found vent in fighting and conquestnow works on other lines. The Englishman must be engaged in a contest, or he is unhappy, and, since he cannot now compete sword to sword withhis fellow-creatures, he fights purse to purse instead. All these thingsI knew in a vague way, but Jerry has made my knowledge definite andsecure. 

As for the man himself, I soon found that his "private means" were takenin various ways from other people's pockets. During a chat, he said, "You know you're not what you pretend to be. You hang about there, andyou bet, but you never bet enough to make anything at it. You must havethe coins, for I've seen you spend a quid in two hours in theskittle-alley. But you don't seem to best anybody. What _is_ your game?You may as well tell me. "

"I amuse myself in my own way, and I don't care to let the school knowmuch about me. "

"Well, my game's very simple. Only a juggins or a horse ever works, andI don't intend to do any. It's just as easy to be idle as not. You takethe fellows in town that make their living after dark, and you alwayssee them having good times. There's some red-hot ones up--you knowwhere--in Piccadilly; they never get about till close on dinner time, but they make up for lost time when they _are_ about. I should like towork with you. If you were to come out a bit flash like me, why, withyour looks and your talk and that _educated_ kind of way you've got, youmight coin money. "

"But you wouldn't care to work the Embankment and run the risk of thecat, as those Piccadilly chaps do?"

"No fear. But you could do better than that. When you're boozed you'renot in it--you lose your head; but when you're right you make fellowswonder what you are. Sink me! A flat would pal on to you in half an hourif you coaxed him, as you can do it. "

Jerry is an amusing philosopher, who could only have been developed inthe rottenness of a decadence. Fancy an able-bodied, attractive fellowliving with ease from day to day without doing a stroke of honestlabour. He keeps clear of the police; he gratifies every want, yet hehas the intellect of a flash potman and the manners of a valet. Thetribe swarm in this city, and I reckon that they will teach us somethingwhen the overturn comes. They are strong and cunning predatory animals, who will direct weak and stupid predatory animals, and when the entirepredatory tribe smash the flimsy bonds with which society holds them incheck for the present, then stand by for ugly times. 

I hate the revolver, but I am glad that I took to carrying one in time. Jerry and I grew so intimate, and I saw so much of his inner mind, thatI judged it better to make no midnight excursions in his company withoutbeing ready for accidents. He is most humorous when he has wine in him, and his humour is a shade too grim for my taste. 

We came home lately in a cab, after seeing a pretty little light-weightfrom Birmingham receive a severe dressing at the hands of a pocketHercules from Bethnal Green. Jerry was in wild spirits, and his usualcharming smile had broadened into a grin. Nothing would suit him butthat I should go to his rooms. 

"My aunt keeps house for me, and she's sure to be up, and my sister'sthere as well. "

The notion of Jerry's dwelling calmly with his aunt and his sister wasvery touching, and my curiosity was roused. The aunt turned out to be aplacid woman with a low voice; the sister was too florid and loud for myfancy. We played at whist, and in the intervals between the games wetested Jerry's wine. He has a singularly good selection. The floridnymph was reserved and coy at first, but as the wine mounted she ratherastonished me by her choice of expletives. The merry one had becomebusiness-like, and that sweet smile was gone. As I looked at him Igradually understood that I had once more made a fool of myself, and Ivowed that if I got out safely I would go to The Chequers no more. Over-confidence is a bad fault in a prize-fighter: it is worse than thatin the case of a man who wishes to hold his own among London sharps. Blackey had the best of me, and now I was in for a much worse business, Jerry the Amiable drank ostentatiously, and he was evidently priminghimself; the sister waxed effusive, and the aunt took care that thepoints were steadily increased. In the early morning the Amiablesuggested that I should stay, but I would not have slept under the sameroof with him for gold. He then ordered his relatives off to bed, andthey slunk away rather like dogs than ladies. Jerry was a masterful man. When all was quiet I rose to take my hat, whereupon Jerry remarked, "You're not going that way, are you?"

"Must go home before it's too light. "

"You'll have another drink?"

"No. "

"But you will!"

The Amiable was really extremely exacting. 

"Thanks. Good morning. "

Jerry locked the door, and put his back to it. Then he softly said, "You've come home and taken my liquor; you flirt with my sister, andyou're going away without leaving so much as a bit of gold. I'm not sucha fool as Blackey. I know your aunt. I can send a newspaper to heraddress, and cook _your_ goose. Suppose I make a row. I can do that, andwe'll both be taken up for brawling outside a house of ill-fame. Itwon't matter to me; I'm used to it. But you'll be spoofed. Now, share upwith an old pal, and I'll keep dark. "

I had contrived to edge away from him, and I had time to produce thedetestable firearm in a leisurely way. 

"You're very kind, Jerry, my lad. I'll stay at this side of the room, and I shan't fire so long as you keep still. If you try to strike or putyour hand in your pocket I shall pull on you; If you care to raise yourarms over your head and move to the right-hand corner of the room I'llgo quietly. "

Jerry reckoned up all the chances and finally edged away from the door. 

"Hands up, Jerry. "

He obeyed, and I escaped into the street. Jerry is a coward at bottom, or he might have known that I dare not fire. 

He met me the very next day, and he wore the usual free, gay smile. Heheld out his hand and flashed his teeth: "Forget that nonsense lastnight, old pal. When the booze is in--you know the rest. I was onlyhaving a lark. What'll you have? We shall be glad to see you roundagain. "

But Mr. Landlord had dropped a word to me only half an hour before. SaidMr. Landlord, in answer to a little careless pumping, "Oh, Jerry? Well, it ain't no business of mine, but if it wasn't for the girls he'd havemighty few flash top-coats, nor beefsteaks neither for that matter. "

Alas! Jerry, the smiling, delightful youth, is one of those odious pestswho hang about in sporting company, and who are contemned and shunned byrespectable racing men. Said a grave turfite to me last week, "Call_those_ sportsmen! I'd--I'd--" but he could not invent a doom horridenough for them, so he changed the subject with a mighty snort. 

There is no knowing what gentlemen like Jerry will do. To call themscoundrels is to flatter them: they are brigands, and the knifing, lounging rascals of Sicily and Calabria are mere children in villanycompared with their English imitators. Places like The Chequers are thehunting-grounds of creatures like Jerry, and the bait of drink draws thevictims thither ready to be sacrificed. A month ago four of Jerry's gangmost heartlessly robbed a publican who had sold his business. He had thepurchase-money in his pocket, and the fellows drugged him. He ought tohave known better, seeing how often he had watched the brigandsoperating on other people; but as he lost £700, and as his assailantsare still at large with their shares of the spoil, we must not reproachhim or add to his misery. 

I picked out Jerry for portraiture because he is a fairly typicalspecimen of a bad--a very bad--set. When the history of our decline andfall comes to be Written by some Australian Gibbon, the historian maychoose the British bully and turfite to set alongside of the awfulcreatures who preyed on the rich fools of wicked old Rome. 

THE GENTLEMAN, THE DOCTOR, AND DICKY. 

We have had enough of the roughs for a time, and I want now to deal witha few of the wrecks that I see--wrecks that started their voyage withevery promise of prosperity. Let no young fellow who reads what followsfancy that he is safe. He may be laborious; an unguarded moment after aspell of severe work may see him take the first step to ruin. He may bebrilliant: his brilliancy of intellect, by causing him to be courted, may lead him into idleness, and idleness is the bed whereon parasiticvices flourish rankly. Take warning. 

I was invited to go for a drive, but I had letters to write, and saidso. A quiet old man who was sitting in the darkest corner of the barspoke to me softly, "If your letters are merely about ordinarybusiness, you may dictate them to me here, and I will transcribe themand send them off. " I replied that I could do them as quickly myself. The old man smiled. "You do not send letters in shorthand. I can take ahundred and forty words a minute, and you can do your correspondence andgo away. " The oddity of the proposal attracted me. I agreed to dictate. The old man took out his notebook, and in ten minutes the work was done. We came back in an hour, and by that time each letter was transcribed ina beautiful, delicate longhand. I handed the scribe a shilling, and hewas satisfied. The Gentleman, as we called him, writes letters foranyone who can spare him a glass of liquor or a few coppers; but I hadnever tested his skill before. There was no one in the bar, so I satdown beside the old man, and we talked. 

"You seem wonderfully clever at shorthand. I am surprised that youhaven't permanent work. "

"It would do me little good. I can go on for a long time, but when myfit comes on me I am not long in losing any job. They won't have me, friend--they won't have me. "

"You've been well employed, then, in your time?"

"No one better. If I had command of myself, I might have done as well inmy way as my brother has in his. I could beat him once, and I was quiteas industrious as he was; but, when I came to the crossroads, I took thewrong turning, and here I am. "

"May I ask how your brother succeeded? I mean--what is he?"

"He is Chief Justice ----. "

I found that this was quite true; indeed, the Gentleman was one of themost veracious men I have known. 

"Does your brother know how you are faring?"

"He did know, but I never trouble him. He was a good fellow to me, and Ihave never worried him for years. I prefer to be dead to the world. Ihave haunted this place, as you know, for six months; to-morrow I maymake a change, and live in another sty. "

"But surely you could get chance work that would keep you in decentclothes and food. "

"I do get many chance jobs; but if the money amounts to much I am apt tobe taken up as drunk and incapable. "

The sweet, quiet smile which accompanied this amazing statement wastouching. The old man had a fine, thoughtful face, and only a slightbulbousness of the nose gave sign of his failing. Properly dressed, hewould have looked like a professor, or doctor, or something of thatkind. As it was, his air of good breeding and culture quite accountedfor the name the people gave him. I should have found it impossible toimagine him in a police-cell had I not been a midnight wanderer forlong. 

"How did you come to learn shorthand?"

"My father was a solicitor in large practice, and I found I could assisthim with the confidential correspondence, so I took lessons in White'ssystem for a year. My father said I was his right hand. Ah! He gave meten pounds and two days' holiday at Brighton when I took down his firstletter. "

"Have you been a solicitor?"

"No. I had an idea of putting my name down at one of the Inns, but Iwent wrong before anything came of the affair. "

"You say you have had good employment. But how did you contrive toseparate from your father?"

"Oh! I wore out his patience. I was so successful that I thought it safeto toast my success. We were in a south-country town--Sussex, youknow--and I began by hanging about the hotel in the market-place. Then Iplayed cards at night with some of the fast hands, and was useless andshaky in the mornings. Then I began to have periodical fits ofdrunkenness; then I became quite untrustworthy, and last of all I robbedmy father during a bad fit, and we parted. "

"And then?"

"I picked up odd jobs for newspapers, or sponged on my brother. At lastI was sent to the House as reporter, and did very well until one nightwhen Palmerston was expected to make an important speech. My turn came, and I was blind and helpless. Since then I have been in place afterplace, but the end was always the same, and I have learned that I am ahopeless, worthless wretch. "

"But couldn't your brother, for his own credit's sake, keep you in hishouse and put you under treatment?"

"My good friend, I should die under it. I revel in degradation. Iluxuriate in self-contempt. My time is short, and I want to pass it awayspeedily. This life suits me, for I seldom have my senses, and there isonly the early morning to dread. I think then--think, think, think. Until I can scrape together my first liquor I see ugly things. I shouldbe in my own town with my grandchildren round me. I might have been onthe Bench, like my brother, and all men would have respected me as theydo him. Sons and daughters would have gathered round me when I came tomy last hour. I gave it all up in order to sluice my throat with brandyand gin. That is the way I think in the morning. Then I take a glass, orbeg one, as I shall from you presently, and then I forget. Once I wentout to commit suicide, and took three whiskies to string my nerve up. Intwo minutes I was laughing at a Punch and Judy show. If you'll kindlyorder a quartern of gin in a pint glass for me, I'll fill it up and bequite content all the evening. No one ill-uses me. I'm a soft, harmless, disreputable old ne'er-do-well. That is all. "

We drank, and then the Gentleman said, "You come here a good deal toomuch. Your hand was not quite right yesterday morning. Usually you keepright, and I really don't know how far you are touched. If I had youryouth and your appearance, I think I should save myself in time by abold step. Join the temperance people and work publicly; then you arecommitted, and you can't step back. "

"But you don't think that I am likely to go to the dogs? I loaf aroundhere because I have no ambition, and my life was settled for me; but Ihave command over myself. "

"You _had_ command over yourself, you mean. I think you are in greatdanger--very great indeed. My good friend, there are _no_ exceptions. Meet me to-night, or say to-morrow, as I am to be drunk to-night; go tothe beer-house at the end of my street, and I'll show you something. "

Just then the Ramper came up and hailed the Gentleman. "Here you oldswine! Are you sober enough to scratch off a letter?"

"I'm all right. "

"Well, then, write to the usual, and tell him to put me on half-a-quidSunshine, and half-a-quid Dartmoor a shop--s. P. Both. "

Thus our conversation was stopped, and the brother of a judge earnedtwopence by writing a letter for a racecourse thief. 

Next night I went to a very shady public-house, and the Gentleman led meinto a dirty room, where a little old man was sitting alone. The man wascrooked, wizened, weak, and his bare toes stuck out of both shoes; hishalf-rotten frock coat gaped at the breast and showed that he had noshirt on; his hat must have been picked up from a dustheap, for it wasfilthy, and broken in three or four places. 

"For mercy's sake, give me a mouthful of something!" said this object, turning the face of a mummy towards me. His dim eyes were rheumy, andhis chin trembled. An awful sight!

In a flash I remembered him, and cried, "What, Doctor!"

He said, "I don't know you; my memory's gone. Send for twopenn'orth or apenn'orth of beer. Pray do. "

My young friends, that man who begged for a pennyworth of muddy ale wasfirst of all a brilliant soldier, then a brilliant lawyer, then abrilliant historian. His doctor's degree--he was Doctor of Laws--wasgained by fair hard work. Think of that, and then look at my picture ofthe sodden, filthy scarecrow! Yes; that man began my education, and hadI only gone straight on I should not be loafing about The Chequers. Youask how he could have anything to do with my education? Well, long ago Iwas a little bookworm, living in a lonely country house, and I had therun of some good shelves. I was only nine years old, but a huge historyin two volumes attracted me most. I read and read that book until Icould repeat whole pages easily, and even now I can go off at score ifyou give me a start. 

The Scarecrow wrote that history!

Years afterwards I was fighting my way in London, and had charge of ajournal which made a name in its day. Sometimes I had to deal with amessage from a Minister of State, sometimes with a petition from astarving penny-a-liner. One day a little man was shown into my room, which room was instantly scented with whisky. He was well introduced, and I said, "Are you the Doctor ---- who wrote the 'History of ----'?"

"I am, sir, and proud I shall be to write for you. "

"What can you do?"

"Here's a specimen. "

The MS. Was a bundle of bills from a public-house, and the blank sidewas utilised. The Doctor never wasted money on paper when he could avoidit. The stuff was feeble, involved, useless. My face must have fallen, for the piteous Scarecrow said, "I have not your approval. "

"We cannot use this. "

Bending forward and clasping his hands, he said, "Could you not give metwo shillings for it? There are two columns good. A shilling a column;surely that can't hurt you. "

"I'll give you two shillings, and you can come back again if you areneedy, but the MS. Is of no use to us. "

He took the money, and returned again and again for more. I found thathe used to put fourpence in one pocket to meet the expense of hislodging-house bed, and he bought ten two-pennyworths of gin with therest of the money. He always asked for two shillings, and always gotit. I was not responsible for his mode of spending it. 

And now the Doctor had turned up in the region of The Chequers. He waspiteously, doggishly thankful for his drink, and he cried as he bleatedout his prayers for my good health. Men cry readily when they come to bein the Doctor's condition. I asked him to take some soup. "I'm no greateater, " he said; "but I'd like just one more with you--only one. "

"Where do you lodge, Doctor?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm forced to put up with a berth in the oldfowl-house at the bottom of the garden here. They let me stay there, but'tis cold--cold. "

"Do you work at all now?"

"Sometimes. But there is little doing--very little. "

"How did you come to cease practising at the Bar, Doctor?"

"How do I come to be here? 'Tis the old thing--the old thing--and hasbeen all along. "

This poor wretch could not be allowed to go about half-naked, so I letthe potman run out and get him a slop suit. (The Doctor sold theclothes next day for half-a-crown, and was speechless when I went to seehim. ) A hopeless, helpless wretch was the Doctor--the most hopeless Iever knew. He entered the army, early in life, and for a time he waspetted and courted in Dublin society. The man was handsome, accomplished, and brilliantly clever, and success seemed to follow him. He sold out of the army and went to the Bar, where he succeeded duringmany years. No one could have lived a happier, fuller, or more fruitfullife than he did before he slid into loose habits. His only pastime wasthe pursuit of literature, and he finished his big history of a certaingreat war while he was in full practice at the Chancery Bar. Powerseemed to reside in him; fortune poured gifts on him; and he lost all. In an incredibly short space of time he drank away his practice, hisreputation, his hopes of high honour, his last penny. 

Thus it was that my historian came to beg of me for that muddypenn'orth. 

I may as well finish the Doctor's story. If I were writing fiction thetale would be scouted as improbable, yet I am going to state plainfacts. A firm of lawyers hunted up the Doctor, and informed him that hehad succeeded to the sum of £30, 000. There was no mistake about thematter; the long years of vile degradation, the rags, the squalor, thescorn, of men were all to disappear. The solicitors dressed the Doctorproperly and advanced him money; he set off for Ireland to make somenecessary arrangements, and he solemnly swore that he would become atotal abstainer. At Swindon he chose to break his journey, took todrinking, and kept on for many hours. It was long since he had had sucha chance of unlimited drink, and he greedily seized it. When he went tobed he took a bottle with him, and in the morning he was dead. Suffocated by alcohol, they said. He had no living soul related to him, and I believe his money went to the Crown. 

I have written this last fragment on separate sheets, and my journal isinterleaved for the first time. 

The Gentleman and I became very friendly. I never tried to keep him fromdrinking: it was useless. When he was sober his company was pleasant, and I was very sorry when he mysteriously migrated, and many of our crewmissed his help badly. 

Some time after the Gentleman's flight, I was in a common lodging-housein Holborn, and in the kitchen I met a delightful vagabond of aFrenchman with whom I had a long talk. He happened to say, "One of ourold friends died last week. He was a good man, and very well bred. Figure it to yourself, he was brother of one of your judges!" Then Iknew that the Gentleman had gone. I wish I could have seen him again. AsI look back at the old leaves of my journal I seem to see that sweet, patient smile which he wore as he told the story of his fall. There aresome things almost too sad to bear thinking about. This is one. 

 * * * * *

Our friend Dicky had a bad misfortune lately. I should say that Dicky isan oldish man, who drifted into this ugly quarter some time ago, andtook his place in the parlour, which is a room that I now prefer to thebar. I was holding a friendly discussion with a butcher when a stridentvoice said, "You are absolutely and irredeemably ignorant of therudiments of your subject. " I started. Where had I heard that voicebefore? The man was clad in an old shooting-jacket; his trousers wereout at the knee, and his linen was very dirty; yet there was a somethingabout him--a kind of distinction--which was impressive. After launchinghis expression of contempt at us, he buried his face in his pot and tooka mighty drink. Slowly my memory aided me, and under that knobby, pustuled skin I traced the features of Dicky Nash, the most dreadedpolitical journalist of my time. Often I had heard that voice roaringblasphemies with a vigour that no other man could equal; often had Iseen that sturdy form extended beside the editorial chair, while thefumes in the office told tales as to the cause of the fall. And now herewas Dicky--ragged, dirty, and evidently down on his luck. I soon madefriends with him by owning his superior authority, and he kindly took aquart of ale at my expense. This was a man who used to earn £2, 000 ayear after he resigned his University fellowship. He was the friend andadviser of statesmen; he might have ended as a Cabinet Minister, for noman ever succeeded in gauging the extent of his miraculous ability; heseemed to be the most powerful, as well as the most dreaded man inEngland. Woe is me! We had to carry him up to bed; and he stayed onuntil he spent a three-guinea cheque, which Mr. Landlord cashed for him. 

I knew no good would come of his Fleet-street games, though he used tolaugh things off himself. He would come in about seven in the evening, and seat himself at his table. Then he would hiccup, "Can't writepolitics; no good. Give us a nice light subject. "

"Try an article on the country at this season of the year. "

"Good. I can't hold the damned pen. You sit down, I'll dictate: In thisrefulgent season, when the barred clouds bloom the soft dying day, it ispleasant to wander by the purple hedgerows where the stars of the (Whatdamned flower is it that twinkles now? What do you say? Ragged Robin?Not poetic enough. Clematis? That'll do. Damn it, ride on!)--the starsof the clematis modestly twinkle, and the trailing--(What the h---- isit that trails? Honeysuckle? Good. Weigh in!)--trailing honeysuckleflings down that rich scent that falls like sweet music on thenerves. '"

And so on. He managed in this way to turn out the regulation column offlummery, but I knew it could not last. And now he had come to be a sotand an outcast. Worse has befallen him. He screwed up his nerve to writean article in the old style, and I helped him by acting as amanuensis. He violently attacked an editor who had persistently befriended him;then he wrote a London Letter for that editor's paper; then he sent theviolent attack away in the envelope intended for the letter. There was aterrible quarrel. 

So far did the Gentleman, the Doctor, and Dicky come down. I may saythat Dicky, the companion of statesmen, the pride of his university, died of cold and hunger in a cellar in the Borough. Oh, young man, boastnot of thy strength!

POACHERS AND NIGHTBIRDS. 

The Chequers stands in a very nasty place, yet we are within easydistance of a park which swarms with game. This game is preserved forthe amusement of a royal duke, who is kind enough to draw about twelvethousand a year from the admiring taxpayer. He has not rendered any verybrilliant service to his adopted country, unless we reckon his nearlycausing the loss of the battle of Alma as a national benefit. He weptpiteously during the battle of Inkerman when the Guards got into a warmcorner, but, although he is pleasingly merciful towards Russians, he ismost courageous in his assaults on pheasants and rabbits, and thecountry provides him with the finest sporting ground in England. Ishould not like to say how many men make money by poaching in the park, but we have a regular school of them at The Chequers, and they seem topick up a fair amount of drink money. The temptation is great. Every oneof these poaching fellows has the hunter's instinct strongly developed, and neither fines nor gaol can frighten them. The keepers catch oneafter another, but the work goes on all the same. You cannot stop menfrom poaching, and there is an end of the matter. You may shout yourselfhoarse in trying to bring a greyhound to heel after he sights a hare;but the dog _cannot_ obey you, for he is an automaton. The humanpredatory animal has his share of reason, but he also is automatic tosome degree, and he will hunt in spite of all perils and all punishmentswhen he sights his prey. One comic old rascal whom I know well has beencaught thirty times and imprisoned eight times. While he is in gaol healways occupies himself in composing songs in praise of poaching, and onthe evening of his release he is invariably called on to furnish thecompany in the tap-room with his new composition. He cannot read orwrite, but he learns his songs by heart, and I have taken down a largenumber of them from his own lips. The things are much like JemmyCatnach's stuff, so far as rhyme and rhythm are concerned, but they areinteresting on account of the sly exultation that runs through them. 

In one poem the lawless bard gives an account of a day's life in gaol, and his coarse phrases make you almost feel the cold and hunger. Hereare some scraps from this descriptive work:--

 "Till seven we walk around the yard, There is a man all to you guard. If you put your hand out so, Untoe the guv'nor you must go; Eight o'clock is our breakfast hour, Those wittles they do soon devour; Oh! dear me, how they eat and stuff, Lave off with less than half enough. Nine o'clock you mount the mill, That you mayn't cramp from settin' still. If that be ever so against your will, You must mount on the traädin' mill. There is a turnkey that you'll find He is a raskill most unkind. To rob poor prisoners he is that man, To chaäte poor prisoners where he can. At eleven o'clock we march upstairs To hear the parson read the prayers. Then we are locked into a pen-- It's almost like a lion's den. There's iron bars big round as your thigh, To make you of a prison shy. At twelve o'clock the turnkey come; The locks and bolts sound like a drum. If you be ever so full of game, The traädin' mill it will you tame. At one you mount the mill again, That is labour all in vain If that be ever so wrong or right, You must traäde till six at night. Thursdays we have a jubal fraä Wi' bread and cheese for all the day. I'll tell you raälly, without consate, For a hungry pig 'tis a charmin' bait. At six you're locked into your cell, There until the mornin' dwell; There's a bed o' straw all to lay on, There's Hobson's choice, there's that or none. "

That is a bleak picture; but the old man winds up by bidding all hismates "go it again, my merry boys, and never mind if they you taäke. " Hetold me that on several occasions he was out ferreting, or with hislurcher, on the next night after coming out of prison. Can you keep sucha fellow out of a well-stocked park? He likes the money that he gets forgame, but what he likes far better is the wild pleasure of seeing thedeadly dogs wind on the trail of the doomed quarry; he likes the danger, the strategy, the gambling chances. 

One night I got this old man to drive me about for some hours. He is asmart hand with horses, and when I said, "Can you manage without lampsin this dark?"--he answered, "I could find my way for twenty miles roundhere if you tie my eyes up. There's nary gate that my nets hasn't beenunder; there's hardly a field that I haven't been chased on. " As ourtrotter swung on, I found that the poacher associated almost every gateand outhouse and copse with some wild story. For example, we passed aclump of farm-buildings, and the poacher said; "I had a queer job inthere. Three of us had had a good night--a dozen hares--and we gothalf-a-crown apiece for them, so we drank all day, and came out on thegame again at night. We put down a master lot o' wires about eleven, andthen we takes a bottle o' rum and goes to lie down on a load of hay. Well, we all takes too much, and sleeps on and on. When I wakes, Lord, we was covered with snow, and a marcy we was alive. We dursn't go forour wires in the daylight, and there we has to stand and see a keeper goand take out three hares, one after another. It was a fortnight before Ihad a chance of picking up the wires again, and we was about perished. "Cold, wet, and all other inconveniences are nothing to the poacher. 

Presently my man chuckled grimly. "Had a near shave over there where yousee them ar' trees. I had my old dorg out one night, and two commaradesalong with me. We did werra well at that gate we just passed, so wetries another field. Do you think that there owd dorg 'ud go in? Not he. There never was such a one for 'cuteness. We was all in our poachin'clothes, faces blacked, women's nightcaps on, and shirts on over ourcoats. Well, the light come in the sky, and I separates from my mates, for I sees the owd dorg put up a hare and coorse her. I follows him, andhe gits up for first turn; then puss begins to turn very quick to throwthe dorg out before she made her last run to cover. He was on the scut, the old rip--catch him leave her--and I gits excited, and, like a fool, I chevies him on. In a minute I sees a man running at me, and off I goesfor the gate. Now, I could run any man round here from 300 yards up to amile; but I knew I must be took at the gate, unless I could stop thekeeper. I had a big stick with me--about six foot long it was--and didsometimes to beat fuzz with; so I takes the stick by one end. He come upvery sharp, and I made up my mind to let him gain on me. As soon as I_feels_ him on me, I swings round, and the stick got him on the side ofthe head. He went flat down, and I got on to the road. I picked up mymates, and we washes our faces in a pond; then we leaves our clotheswith one of the school, and walks off to the pub. Half an hour after, incomes the keeper and says, 'See what some of you blackguards has donefor me?' I stands him a drink and says how sorry, and we parted. Ah!Years after that I was at a harvest supper with that keeper, and wetalks of that affair. I says, 'I'll tell you now, I was the man asknocked you over, ' and he says, 'Shake hands, Tom. It was the cleanestthing I ever saw done. '

"Do you really like the game, then?"

"Like it! I'd die at it. If it wasn't for my crippled foot I'd be outevery night now. "

Old Tom, the much-imprisoned man, never goes out with a gang now, buthis influence is potent. He is the romantic poacher, and many a man hasbeen set on by him. Observe that the best of these night thieves are onperfectly friendly terms with the keepers. If they are taken, theyresign themselves to fate, and bear no ill-will. It is a game, and ifthe keeper makes a good move he is admired--and forgiven. 

Six regular poachers come daily to The Chequers, but there are manyothers hanging around who are merely amateurs. One queer customer withwhom I have stayed out many nights is the despair of the keepers. Hisresource is inexhaustible, and his courage is almost admirable. Let mesay--with a blush if you like--that I am a skilful poacher, and mygeneralship has met with approval from gentlemen who have often seen theinside of Her Majesty's prisons. Alas!

One day I was much taken with the appearance of a beautiful fawn bitch, which lay on the seat in the room which is used by the most shady men inthe district. Her owner was a tall, thin man, with sly grey eyes, setvery near together, and a lean, resolute face. Doggy men are freemasons, and I soon opened the conversation by speaking of the pretty fawn. Shepricked her ears, and to my amazement, they stood up like those of arabbit. Such a weird, out-of-the-way head I never saw, though the doglooked a nice, well-trained greyhound when she had her ears laid back. 

I said, "Why, she's a lurcher. "

"She ain't all greyhound; but the best man as ever I knew always saidthere never was a prick-eared one a bad 'un. "

"Is she for sale?"

"There ain't enough money to buy her. "

"She's so very good?"

"Never was one like her!"

I found out, when we became fast friends, that the man's statement wasquite correct. The dog's intelligence was supernatural. For the benefitof innocents who do not know what poaching is like, I will give an ideaof this one dog's depredations. The owner--the Consumptive, I call him, as his night work has damaged his lungs--grew very friendly one day, andconfidential. He winked and remarked, "Now, how many do you think I'vehad this month?"

"How many what?"

"You know. Rabbits. Guess. "

I tried, and failed. The Consumptive whispered, "Well, I keeps count, just the same as a shopkeeper, and as true as I'm a living man I'vetaken two hundred and fifty out of that park, and averaged tenpence for'em. "

"With the one bitch?"

"No. I've got a pup from her--such a pup. The old 'un's taught the baby, and I swear I'll never let that pup come out in daylight. They worktogether, and nothing can get away. "

This astounding statement was true to the letter. The dogs were likeimps for cunning; they would hide skilfully at the very sound of astrange footstep, and they would retrieve for miles if necessary. I maysay that I have seen them at work, and I earnestly wish that FrankBuckland could have been there. 

The Consumptive is a dissolute, drunken fellow, whose life is certainlynot noble. Fancy being maintained in idleness by a couple of dogs! Butthe park is there, and the man cannot help stealing. I have seen hispuppy, and I wish the royal duke could see her. She is a cross betweenlurcher and greyhound; her cunning head resembles that of a terrier, andher long, slim limbs are hard as steel. Her precious owner spends hisdays in tippling; he never reads, and, I fancy, never thinks; he goesforth at dusk, and his faithful dogs proceed to work for his livelihood. 

The Consumptive is, as I have said, a man of great resource; but he hasfor once been within a hair's breadth of disaster. When he walks acrossthe park at dusk, he likes to take his wife with him, and on suchoccasions he looks like a quiet workman out for a stroll with themissus. He sometimes puts his arm round the lady's waist, and the couplelook so very loving and tender. It would never do to take the raking, great deerhound; but the innocent little fawn dog naturally follows hermaster, and looks, oh! so demure. 

The lady wears a wide loose cloak, which comes to her feet, for you mustknow that the mists rise very coldly from the hollows. Then these twosentimentalists wend their way to a secluded quarter of the vast park, and presently the faithful fawn mysteriously disappears. She moves slylyamong the bracken, and her exquisite scent serves to guide herunerringly as she works up wind. Presently she steadies herself, takesaim, and rushes! The rabbit only has time to turn once or twice beforethe savage jaws close on him, and then the fawn makes her way carefullytowards Darby and Joan. She takes advantage of every shadow; she neverthinks of rashly crossing open ground, and Darby has only got to stamptwice to make her lie down. She sneaks up, and, horror! she gives therabbit to Joan. Now under that cloak there is a useful little apparatus. A strong strap is fastened under Joan's armpits and over her breasts. This strap has on it a dozen strong hooks. Joan slits away the tendonsof the rabbit's hind legs from the bone, hangs the game on one of thehooks, and the lovers wend their way peacefully, while the familyprovider glides off on another murderous errand. When four or five hooksare occupied, the lady walks homeward with the demure dog, Darby goesand drinks at The Chequers till about eleven, and then themouse-coloured deerhound is taken out to do her share. 

The fond couple were sitting on a bench under a tree, for Joan hadfairly tired under the weight of no less than nine rabbits which wereslung on her belt. The lurcher stole up, and quietly laid a rabbit downat Joan's feet; then a soft-spoken man came from behind the tree, andobserved--

"I am a policeman in plain clothes, and you must go with me to thekeeper's cottage. "

But Darby, the wily one, rose to the occasion. The dog is trained torepudiate his acquaintance at a word, and when he said, "That's not mydog; get off, you brute!" the accomplished lurcher picked up the rabbitand vanished like lightning. Nevertheless the policeman led off Darby, and Joan followed. The keeper was out, but the policeman searched theConsumptive and found nothing. 

The keeper said to me--even me, "My wife tells me they brought up a manthe other night, but he had no game on him. He had a woman with him thatfairly made the missus tremble. She was like a bloomin' giant out of ashow. " I smiled, for the Consumptive had told me the whole tale. "My'art was in my mouth, " he remarked, and I do not wonder. Consideringthat Joan was padded with the carcases of _nine_ rabbits under thatenormous cloak, it was quite natural for her bulk to seem abnormal. Ah!if that intelligent policeman had probed the mysteries that underlaythe cloak! I am glad he did not, for the Consumptive is a mostentertaining beast of prey. 

Another of our poaching men was obliged to borrow from me the money forhis dog licences, and in gratitude he allowed me to see his brace ofgreyhounds work at midnight. People think that greyhounds cannot hunt byscent, but this man has a tiny black and a large brindle that work likebasset-hounds. They are partners, and they have apparently a greatcontempt for the rules of coursing. One waits at the bottom of a field, while his partner quarters the ground with the arrowy fleetness of aswallow. When a hare is put up by the beating dog she goes straight toher doom. 

It seems marvellous that such lawless desperadoes should be hangingabout London; but there they are, and they will have successors so longas there is a head of game on the ground. The men are disreputableloafers; they care only for drink and the pleasures of idleness. I grantthat. My only business is to show what a strange secret life, what astrange secret society, may be studied almost within sight of St. Paul's. 

The very best and most daring poacher I know lives withinfive-and-twenty minutes' journey from Waterloo. You may keep on framingstringent game laws as long as you choose, but you cannot kill anovermastering instinct. 

I am not prepared to say, "Abolish the Game Laws;" but I do say thatthose laws cause wild, worthless fellows to be regarded as heroes. Nostigma whatever attaches to a man who has been imprisoned for poaching;he has won his Victoria Cross, and he is admired henceforth. You inflicta punishment which confers honour on the culprit in the eyes of the onlypersons for whose opinion he cares. Even the better sort of men whohaunt our public-houses are glad to meet and talk with the poachers. Thepunishment gives a man a few weeks of privation and months of adulation. He bears no malice; he simply goes and poaches again. No burglar everbrags of his exploits; the poacher always boasts, and always receivesapplause. 

JIM BILLINGS. 

Few people know that large numbers of the splendid seamen who man ourNorth Sea fishing fleets are arrant Cockneys. In the North-country andin Scotland the proud natives are accustomed to regard the Cockney as abeing who can only be reckoned as human by very charitable persons. Tohear a Scotch fisherman mention a "Kokenee" is an experience which letsyou know how far scorn may really be cherished by an earnest man. TheNortherners believe that all the manliness and hardiness in the countryreside in their persons; but I take leave to dispute that pleasingarticle of faith, for I have seen hundreds of Londoners who were quiteas brave and skilful sailors as any born north of the Tees. The Cockneyis a little given to talking, but he is a good man all the same. 

In the smacks many lads from the workhouse schools are apprenticed, andsome of the smartest skippers in England come originally from Mitcham orSutton. Jim Billings was a workhouse boy when he first went to sea, andhe sometimes ran up to London after his eight weeks' trips were over. When I first cast eyes on Jim I said quite involuntarily, "Bob Travers, by the living man!" The famous coloured boxer is still alive and hearty, and it would be hard to tell the difference between him and Jim Billingswere it not that the prize-fighter dresses smartly. Jim doesn't; hishuge chest is set off by a coarse white jumper; his corded arms areusually bared nearly to the elbow, and his vast shock of twining curlsrelieves him generally from the trouble of wearing headgear. On Sundayshe sometimes puts on a most comfortless felt hat, but that is merely achance tribute to social usage, and the ugly excrescence does notdisfigure Jim's shaggy head for very long. Billings's father was amulatto prize-fighter, who perished early from the effects of thoseraging excesses in which all men of his class indulged when they cameout of training. The mulatto was as powerful and game a man as everstripped in a twenty-four-foot ring; but he ruined his constitution withalcohol, and he left his children penniless. The little bullet-headedJim was drafted off to the workhouse school, and from thence to a smallfishing-smack. 

Does anyone ever think nowadays of the horrors that were to be seenamong the fleets not so very long ago? It is not a wonder that any ofthe fishers had a glimmer of human feeling in them when they reachedmanhood, for no brute beast--not even a cabhorse in an Italian town--wasever treated as an apprentice on a smack was treated. Some of thesea-ruffians carried their cruelty to insane extremes, for the lust ofblood seemed to grow upon them. It is a naked truth that there was nolaw for boys who lived on the high seas until very recent years. Onefine, hardy seadog (that is the correct and robust way of talking) usedto strip his apprentice, and make him go out to the bowsprit end whenthe vessel was dipping her stem in winter time. He was such a merryfellow, was this bold seadog, and I could make breezy, "robust" Britonslaugh for hours by my narratives of his drolleries. He would not letthis poor boy eat a morsel of anything until he had mixed the dish withexcrements, and when the lad puked at the food the hardy mariner cut hishead open with a belaying-pin or flung him down the hatchway. Sometimesthe hardy one and the mate lashed the apprentice up in the fore-rigging, and they had rare sport while he squealed under the sting of the knottedrope's end. On one night the watch on deck saw a figure dart forward andspring on the rail; the contumacious boy had stripped himself, and hewas barely saved from throwing his skinny, lacerated carcass into thesea. Shortly after this the youngest apprentice went below, and foundthe ill-used lad standing on a locker, and gibbering fearfully. The tinyboy said:

"Oh! Jim, Jim, what's come to you?" but James never uttered a rationalword more. He was sent to his mother's house at Deptford, and he went tobed with four other children. In the early morning the youngstersnoticed that Jim seemed rather stiff, and he had exceedingly goodreasons, for he was stone-dead, and doubled up. The coroner's jurythought that death resulted from a stoppage of the intestines. That wasvery funny indeed, for Jim's shipmates observed that as he was bruisedand rope's-ended more and more he lost all power of retaining his food, and everything he swallowed passed from him undigested. Jim succumbed tothe wholesome, manly, hardening, maritime discipline of the good oldtimes, and no one was hanged for murdering him. 

The mind of the kindly, shoregoing man cannot rightly conceive themonstrosities of cruelty which were perpetrated. Fancy a boy bendingover a line and baiting hooks for dear life while the blood from afearful scalp wound drained his veins till he fainted. The lad came toin four hours; had he died he would have been quietly reported as washedoverboard. If you can stand a few hours of talk from an old smacksmanyou may hear a sombre litany of horror. Those fishers are, physically, the flower of our race, and many of them have the noblest moralqualities. Knowing what I do of the old days, I wonder that the men areany better than desperate savages. 

Jim Billings endured the bitterest hardships that could befall anapprentice. For six years he was not allowed to have a bed, for thatluxury was generally denied to boys. He secured a piece of old netting, and he used to sleep on that until it became rotten by reason of thesalt water which drained from his clothes. On mad winter nights, whenthe sea came hurling along, and crashed thunderously on the decks, thesmack tugged and lunged at her trawl. All round her the dark waterboiled and roared, and the blast shrieked through the cordage withhollow tremors. That One who rideth on the wings of the wind lashed thedark sea into aimless fury, and the men on deck clung where they couldas the smothering waves broke and seethed in wild eddies over thereeling vessel. At midnight the sleepers below heard the cry, "Haul, O!haul, haul, haul!" and they staggered to their feet in the reeking denof a cabin. 

"Does it rain?"

"No, it snows. "

That was the fragment of dialogue which passed pretty often. Then theskipper inquired, "Do you want any cinder ashes?" The ashes were spreadon the treacherous deck; the bars were fixed in the capstan, and thecrew tramped on their chill round. Men often fell asleep at their drearywork, and walked on mechanically; sometimes the struggle lasted for anhour or two, until strong fellows were ready to lie down, and over thestraining gang the icy wind roared and the piercing drift flew invicious streams. When the big beam and the slimy net came to hand theworst of the work began; it often happened that a man who ran against ashipmate was obliged to say, "Who's that?" so dense was the darkness;and yet amid that impenetrable gloom the intricate gear had to behandled with certainty, and when the living avalanche of fish flowedfrom the great bag, it was necessary to kill, clean, and sort them inthe dark. When the toil was over Jim Billings went below with his mates, and their dripping clothes soon covered the cabin floor with slush. 

"Surely they changed their clothes?" I fancy I hear some innocent askingthat question. Ah! No. The smacksmen have no time for changes ofraiment. Jim huddled himself up like the rest: the crew turned insoaking, and woke up steaming, just as the men do even nowadays. 

Week in, week out, Jim Billings led that hard life, and he grew upbrawny and sound in spite of all his troubles. His frame was a mass ofbone and wire, and no man could accurately measure his strength. Hismind was left vacant of all good impressions; every purely animalfaculty was abnormally developed, and Jim's one notion of relaxation wasto get beastly drunk whenever he had the chance. Like too many more ofthose grand seamen, he came to regard himself as an outcast, for he wascut off from the world during about forty-six weeks of every year, andhe thought that no creature on earth cared for him. If he broke a fingeror strained a tendon, he must bear his suffering, and labour on untilhis eight weeks were up; books, newspapers, rational amusements wereunknown to him; he lived on amid cursing, fighting, fierce toil, andgeneral bestiality. 

Pray, what were Jim's recreations? When he ran up to London he remainedviolently, aggressively drunk while his money lasted, and at such timeshe was as dangerous as a Cape buffalo in a rage. With all his weight hewas as active as a leopard, and his hitting was as quick as NedDonnelly's. He enjoyed a fight, but no one who faced him shared hisenjoyment long; for he generally settled his man with one rush. He usedboth hands with awful severity; and in short, he was one of the mostfearsome wild beasts ever allowed to remain at large. I have known himto take four men at once, with disastrous results to the four, and, whenhe had to be conveyed to the police-station (which was ratherfrequently), fresh men were always brought round to handle him. Speakingpersonally, I may say that I would rather enter a cage of performinglions than stand up for two rounds with Mr. Billings. He only once wasnear The Chequers, and I fear I entertained an unholy desire to see someof our peculiar and eloquent pugilists raise his ire. Here was a prettymass of blackguard manhood for you! Everyone who knew him felt certainthat Jim would be sent to penal servitude in the end for killing someantagonist with an unlucky blow; no human power seemed capable ofrestraining him, and of superhuman powers he only knew one thing--heknew that you use certain words for cursing purposes. 

Over the grey desolation of that cruel North Sea no humanising agencyever travelled to soften Jim Billings and his like; but there were manyagencies at work to convert the men into brutes. 

On calm days there came sinister vessels that sneaked furtively amongthe fleet. A little black flag flew from the foretopmast stay of theseugly visitors, and that was a sign that tobacco and spirits were on saleaboard. The smacksmen went for tobacco, which is a necessity of life tothem; but the clever Dutchmen soon contrived to introduce other wares. Vile aniseed brandy--liquid fire--was sold cheap, and many a man whobegan the day cool and sober ended it as a raving madman. Mr. Coper, theDutch trader, did not care a rush for ready money; ropes, nets, sailswere quite as much in his line, and a continual temptation was held outto men who wanted to rob their owners. Jim Billings used to get drunk asoften as possible, and he himself told me of one ghastly expedient towhich he was reduced when he and his shipmates were parched and cravingfor more poison. A dead man came past their vessel; they lowered theboat, and proceeded to haul the clothes off the corpse. The putrid fleshcame away with the garments, but the drunkards never heeded. Theyscrubbed the clothes, dried them in the rigging, and coped them away forbrandy. 

Mr. Coper had other attractions for young and lusty fishermen. There arecertain hounds in France, Holland, and even in our own virtuouscountry, who pick up a living by selling beastly pictures. In the NorthSea fleets there are 12, 000 powerful fellows who are practicallycondemned to celibacy, and the human apes who sold the bawdy picturesdrove a rare trade among the swarming vessels. 

Jim Billings was a capital customer to the Copers, for his animalism ranriot, and he was more like a tremendous automaton than like a man. 

So this mighty creature lived his life, drinking, fighting, toiling, blaspheming, and dwelling in rank darkness. He often spoke of "Gord, "and his burly childishness tickled me infinitely. I liked Jim; he wassuch a Man when one compared him with our sharps and noodles; but Inever expected to see him fairly distance me in the race towardsrespectability. I am still a Loafer; Jim is a most estimable member ofthe gentlest society; and this is how it all came about. 

On one grey Sunday morning a pretty smack came creeping through thefleet. Far and near the dark trawlers heaved to the soft swell, and theylooked picturesque enough; but the strange vessel was handsomer thanany of the fishing-boats, and Jim's curiosity was roused. The new smackwas flying a flag at her masthead, but Jim could not read well enough tomake out the inscription on the flag. He said, "Who's he?" and his mateanswered, "A blank mission ship. Lot o' blokes come round preachin' andprayin'. "

"What? To our blank chaps? How is it I've never seen his blank flagafore?"

"Ain't been werry long started. I heerd about 'em at Gorleston. Fat Dangot converted board o' one on 'em. "

Just then the smart smack shoved her foresail a-weather and hove-to;then a small boat put out, and a stout grizzled man hailed Jim. 

"What cheer, old lad, what cheer? Come and give us a look. Service in anhour's time. Come and have a pot o' tea and a pipe. "

I am grieved to say that Mr. Billings remarked, "Let's go aboard theblank, and capsize the whole blank trunk. "

Certainly he jumped up the side of the mission ship with very evilintentions. Boat after boat came up and made fast astern of the dandyvessel, and soon the decks were crowded with merry groups. Jim couldn'tmake it out for the life of him. These fellows had their pipes andcigars going; they were full of fun, and yet Jim could not hear an oathor a lewd word. Gradually he began to feel a little sheepish, butnevertheless he did not relinquish his desire to break up the service. The skipper of the smack invited Jim to go below, and handed him asteaming mug of tea. 

"Where's your 'bacca?" said the skipper. 

"Left him aboard. "

"Never mind. Take half a pound and pay for it to-morrow. We sell thebest at a shilling a pound. "

Jim gaped. Here was a decidedly practical religious agency. A shilling apound! Cheaper than the Copers' rubbish. Jim took a few pulls at thestrong, black tobacco, and began to reconsider his notion about smashingup the service. He found the religious skipper was as good a fishermanas anyone in the fleet; the talk was free from that horrible cant whichscares wild and manly men so easily, and the copper-coloured rowdyalmost enjoyed himself. 

Presently the lively company filed into the hold, squatted on fishboxes, and proceeded to make themselves comfortable. Two speakers fromLondon were to address the meeting, and Jim gazed very critically onboth. 

A hymn was sung, and the crash of the hoarse voices sounded weirdly overthe moan of the wind. Jim felt something catch at his throat, and yet hewas unable to tell what strange new feeling thrilled him. His comradessang as if their lives depended on their efforts. Jim sat on, halfpleased, half sulky, wholly puzzled. Then one of the speakers rose. Atfirst sight the preacher looked like anything but an apostle; his plump, rounded body gave no hint of asceticism, and his merry, pure eyetwinkled from the midst of a most rubicund expanse of countenance. Helooked like one who had found the world a pleasant place, and Jimgruffly described him as a "jolly old bloke. " But the voice of thiscomfortable, suave-looking missionary by no means matched hisappearance. He spoke with a grave and silvery pitch that made his wordsseem to soar lightly over his audience. His accent was that of thegenuine society man, but a delicate touch--a mere suspicion--of Scotchgave the cultured tones a certain odd piquancy. A solemn note of deeppassion trembled, as it were, amid the floating music, and every wordwent home. This jolly, rosy missionary is one of the best of livingpopular speakers, and his passionate simplicity fairly conquers the veryrudest of audiences. The man believes every word he says, and his powerof rousing strong emotion has seldom been equalled. 

Jim Billings sat and glowered; he understood every simply lucid sentencethat the orator uttered, and he was charmed in spite of himself. 

"This is the blankest, rummiest blank go ever I was in, " muttered thewould-be iconoclast. 

His visions of a merry riot were all fled, and he was listening with theeagerness of a decorous Sunday-school child. 

Speaker Number Two arose, and Jim's bleared eyes were riveted on him. The rough saw before him a pallid, worn man, whose beautiful face seemeddrawn by suffering. Long, exquisite artist hands, silky beard, kindly, humorous mouth, marked by stern lines; these were the things that Jimdimly saw. But the dusky blackguard was really daunted and mastered bythe preacher's eye. The wonderful eye was like Napoleon's and MaryStuart's in colour; but the Emperor's lordly look hinted of earthlyambition: the missionary's wide, flashing gaze seemed to be turned onsome solemn vision. Twice in my life have I seen such an eye--once inthe flesh when I met General Gordon, once in a portrait of Columbus. Poor Jim was fascinated; he was in presence of the hero-martyr who hasrevolutionised the life of a great population by the sheer force of hisown unconquerable will. Jim did not know that the slim man with theroyal eye must endure acute agony as he travels from one squalid vesselto another; he did not know that the sublime modern Reformer hasovercome colossal difficulties while enduring tortures which would makeeven brave men pray for death. Jim was in the dark. He only knew thatthe saintly man talked like a "toff, " and said strange things. After alittle the "toff" dropped the accent of the Belgravian and began tospeak in low, impassioned tones; he told one little story, and Jim foundthat he must cry or swear. With sorrow I must say that he did thelatter, in order to bully the lump out of his bull throat. Then the"toff" broke into a cry of infinite tenderness and pity; he implored themen to come, and some sturdy fellows sobbed; but Jim did not understandwhere they were wanted to go, and he growled another oath. 

After this some of the fishermen spoke, and Jim heard how drunkards, fighting men, and spendthrifts had become peaceable and prosperouscitizens. 

Puzzles were heaped on the poor man's brain. He could have broken thatpale man in halves with one hand; yet the pale man mastered him. He knewsome of the burly seamen as old ruffians; yet here they were--talkinggently, and boasting about their happiness and prosperity. When the lastcrashing chorus had been sung, the two swells went round and chattedfreely with all comers. 

"No ---- 'toffs' never treated me like that afore. "

All that day, until the trawl went down, Jim sat growling and brooding. He was inarticulate, and the crowding thoughts that surged in his dimsoul were chaotic. 

Next day he inquired, "Do you know anything 'bout this yere Jesus asthey yarns about?"

"Devil a bit! Get the bloke on the Mission ship to tell you. "

"See him and you damned fust!"

Thus spoke the impolite James. But on the ninth day the Mission smackran into the Blue fleet again, and Jim took a desperate resolution. Hisboat was astern, so he jumped over the counter and sculled himselfstraight to the Mission smack. 

"Got them gents aboard?"

The skipper was wild with delight at seeing the most notorious ruffianon the coast come voluntarily, and Mr. Billings was soon below in theafter cabin. Poor Jim stuttered and haggled while trying to explain whatwas the matter with him. 

"I tell you, guvnor, I've got a something that must come out, or I shallchoke straight off. I want to speak, and I can't get no words. "

I shall say nothing of the long talk that went on. I know somethingabout it, but the subject is too sacred for a Loafer to touch. I shallonly say that Jim Billings got release, as the fishers say, and hiswild, infantine outburst made powerful men cry like children. 

He is now a very quiet soul, and he neither visits The Chequers nor anyother hostelry. There was great fun among the Gorleston men when Jimturned serious, and one merry smacksman actually struck at the quadroon. Jim bit his lip, and said, "Bill, old lad, I'd have killed you for that a year ago. Shake hands;God bless you!"

Which was rather a plucky thing to do. 

Some blathering parsons say that this blessed Mission is teaching men totalk cant and Puritanism. Speaking as a very cynical Loafer, I can onlysay that if Puritanism turns fishing fleets and fishing towns from beinghells on earth into being decent places; if Puritanism heals the sick, comforts the sufferers, carries joy and refinement and culture intoplaces that were once homes of horror, and renders the police forcealmost a superfluity in two great towns--then I think we can put up withPuritanism. 

I know that Jim Billings was a dangerous untamed animal; he is now ajolly, but quiet fellow. I was always rather afraid of him; but now Ishould not mind sailing in his vessel. The Puritan Mission has civilisedhim and hundreds on hundreds more, and I wish the parsons had done justhalf as much. 

For my own part, I think that when I am clear of The Chequers I shall goclean away into the North Sea. If on some mad night the last sea heavesus down, and the Loafer is found on some wind-swept beach, that will beas good an end as a burnt-out, careless being can ask. Perhaps JimBillings, the rough, and I, the broken gentleman, may go triumphantlytogether. Who knows? I should like to take the last flight with thefighting nigger. 

OUR PARLOUR COMPANY. 

We have one room where high prices are charged. This place is kept veryselect indeed, and the vulgar are excluded. I was not received very wellat first, and some of the assembly talked at me in a way which wasintended to be highly droll; but I never lost temper, and I fairlyestablished my position by dint of good humour. Moreover, I found outwho was the most unpopular man in the room, and earned much goodwill byslyly administering the kind of strokes which a fairly educated man canalways play off on a dullard. I hate the parlour, and if I were to letout according to my fancy I should use violent language. In that dull, stupid place one learns to appraise the talk about sociality andjoviality at its correct value. I am afraid I must utter a heresy. Ihave heard that George Eliot's chapter about the Raveloe Inn isconsidered as equal to Shakespeare's work. Now I can only see in it theimaginative writing of a clever woman who tried to dramatise a scenewithout having any data to guide her. In all my life I never heard aconversation resembling that of the farrier and the rest in the remotestdegree. In the first place, one element of public-house talk--the overtor sly indecency--is left out. In an actual public-house parlour the manwho can bring in a totally new tale of a dirty nature is the hero of theevening. Then the element of scandal is missing. When men of vulgar mindmeet together, you only need to wait a few minutes before you hearsomeone's character pulled to pieces, and the scandal is usually of theclumsiest sort. Again, it is easy to represent the landlord as a pliableperson who agrees with everybody; but the landlord of real life is aperson who is treated with deference, and who asserts his position inthe most pronounced fashion. If he has a good customer he is courteousand obliging, but he keeps a strict hand on his company, and lets themknow who is master. Nearly all the landlords I have known since I becamea Loafer have been good fellows. They find it in their interest to begenerous, obliging, and friendly; but to represent them as timoroussycophants is absurd. They are ordinary tradesmen; they have a goodopinion of themselves, and they hold their own with all classes of men. The women are sometimes insolent, overdressed creatures, who heartilydespise their customers; but very often a landlord marries a lady who isas far as possible from being like the hostess of fiction. 

The temperance orators destroy their main chance of gaining a success bytheir senseless attempts to be funny at the expense of the licensedvictuallers. Any spouter who chooses to rant about the landlady's goldchain and silk dress can make sure of a laugh, and anyone who talksabout "prosperous Mr. Bung" is approved. For the sake of a good cause Ibeg the abstainers to tell the plain, brutal truth as I do, and refrainfrom scandalising a decent class of citizens. Why on earth should thelandlord be named as a pariah among the virtuous classes? He is acapitalist who is tempted to invest money in a trade which is themainstay of our revenue; he is hedged in with restrictions, and thefaintest slip ruins him for ever. The very nature of his businesscompels him to be smart, obliging, ostentatiously friendly; yet with allthis the Government treat him as if he were by nature a thief, whilethousands of earnest but ignorant and foolish people reckon him an enemyof society. 

Pray who is forced or solicited to buy the landlord's wares? Yourbutcher cries "Buy, buy, buy!" your draper sends out bills andsandwich-men; but the publican would be scouted if he went out toutingfor custom. If a man asks for drink he knows quite well what he isdoing, and if he takes too much it is because of some morbid taint orunlucky weakness. 

Take away the taint, and strengthen the weakness; but do not pourblackguard and unfair abuse on business men who are in no way answerablefor human frailty. 

When I hear (as I often do) some flabby boozer whining and ascribing histrouble to the drinkshop, I despise him. Who took him to the drinkshop?Was it not to please himself that he went? Did he care for any otherbeing's gratification but his own when he slipped the alcohol down histhroat? Yet he appeals for pity. I reckon that I know England andScotland as well as most commercial travellers, and I have beencompelled to depend for my comfort and well-being on the men whom someof the Alliance folk call pariahs. In all my experience I have comeacross less than a dozen men whom I should imagine to rank among theshady division. I should be a liar if I said that many public-houses arehighly moral and useful institutions; but the abuses are due to the rankfaults of human nature, and not to the class of traders who arealternately described as venal sycophants or robbers. Let us be fair. The Devil has enough to bear, and for any harm which we bring toourselves we should not lay the blame on him or fate. 

The whole Raveloe scene is full of typical errors. It is too pretty, toodecent, too neat, too humourous. There is very little fun to be got outof public-house humours, because the vanity of the various talkers isoffensive, and their stupidity has not the charm of simplicity. If sucha man as, say, Mr. Matthew Arnold wanted to test the accuracy of the"Silas Marner" chapter for critical purposes, he would scarcely recoverthe ordeal of a night spent in a haunt of the hardened toper. If thecompany happened to be unembarrassed, their ribaldry would sicken thephilosopher; their coarse manners would revolt him; their politicaltalk--well, that would probably stupefy him and cause him to flee. 

Here are my notes of one specimen conversation, given without anydramatic nonsense or idealisation. My memory can be trusted absolutely, and I have often reported a long interview in such a way that the personinterviewed saw nothing to alter. 

Bowman guffawed, and his purple face swelled with merriment, for he hadbeen hearing a whispered story told by Bill Preston, an elderly retiredtradesman. Bill is a most respectable man whose daughters hold quite aleading position in the society of our district. He is great on churchbusiness, and he is the vicar's right-hand man. It is a noble sight tosee him on Sundays when he stalks down the aisle, nattily dressed inblack, and wearing a devotional air; but in our parlour his sole aim isto tell the queerest stories in the greatest possible number, and hiscollection--amassed by years of loving industry--is large and various. He cannot hear the simplest speech without trying to extract some bawdysignificance from it, and when he has scored a thoroughly indecentsuccess, his clean, rosy, jolly face is lit up by a fascinating smile. Ah! if ladies only heard these sober fathers of families whenconversational high jinks are in progress, they would be decidedlyenlightened. 

When Bowman ended his guffaw he said, with admiration, "You naughty oldman! How dare you go for to corrupt my morals?" And Bill received thetribute with modest gratification. Then a loud voice silenced us all, and Joe Pidgeon, our great logician, began to hold forth. 

"Wot did old Disraely do? Why, they was all frightened of him. He was amasterpiece, I tell you. What was that there heppigram as hemade?--'Inebriated with the hexuberance of his own verbosity. ' There'slangwidge for you! And he kep' it up, too, he did. He was the brightestdiadem in England's crown, he was. But this Gladstone!--wot's he? Showme any trade as he's benefited! Ain't he taken the British Flag to thebloomin' pawnshop? Gord love me, he oughter be 'ung, he did! I tell youhe ought to be 'ung. If you was to say to me to-morrow 'Will you 'angold Gladstone?' I'd 'andle the rope. He's a blank robber and ascoundrel, he is. 

"What's this new man, Lord Churchill, goin' to do? He's a red-hot 'un. He does slip into 'em, and no mistake. He's a coming man, I reckon. Inever see such a flow of language as that bit where he called old Gommya superannuated Pharisee. That was up against him, wasn't it?"

An old man spoke. He is feeble, but he is regarded as an authority onliterature, politics, and other matters. "There's never been a good dayfor anybody since the old-fashioned elections was done away with. Allthe houses was open, fun going on for days, and the candidates was freeas free could be. Your vote was worth something then. I remember whenHorsley put up against Palmer. A rare man was Palmer! Why, that Palmerdrove down with a coach-and-four and postilions, and he kept us allalive for a week. He'd kiss the children in the streets, and he'd setall the taps free in any inn that he went into. It's all purity andthat sort of thing now. 

"I don't see no good in talking politics. One of the jiggers says onething, and one of them says another thing. I think the first one'sright, then I think the other one's right, and then I think nothing atall. I say, give us something good for trade, and let us have a fairchance of making money. That's my motto. 

"And, I say, let's have a law to turn those d----d Germans out of thecountry. They come over here--the hungry, poverty-stricken brutes--andthey take the bread out of Englishmen's mouths, and they talk abouteducation. Education! who cares for education? I never could read a bookin my life without falling asleep, and I can give some of the educatedones a start in my small way. Why, I've got a tenant--a literaryman--and he has about six pound of meat sent home in a week. There'seducation for you. I say, out with the Germans!"

Rullock, the cultured man, was hurt when he heard education mentionedlightly. He said, "Excuse _me_, friend Bowler, but I think we mustreckonise the claims of edgication. We all know you; we all respectyou, and we know you'll cut up well at the finish; but I must disagreewith you on that one subject. I'm a edgicated man--I may say that much. My father paid sixty pound a year at boarding-school for me. Sixty--pounds--a--year; so if I'm not edgicated, I should like to knowwho is. It's a great advantage to you. Look at the position you takewhen you go into a public room, and talk about any subject that comesup. Suppose you're ignorant; well, there you sit; and what are you?You're nobody. No, I approve of edgication--it improves the mind. Itdoes undoubtedly improve the mind. Look now at this Randolph Churchillthat's come to the front. What is it but edgication that brought himforward? I should venture to say he's a learned man, and knows lots oflanguages and sciences, else how'd he shut up such a wonderful orator asGladstone? We all know as old Beaky was edgicated. Look at his books. How'd he write a book without it? I began "Cohningsby, " and, I tell you, it's grand--sublime. No, friend B. , I think you must give in I'mright. "

"And I think you're a lot of ---- fools. "

This interruption came from the devout Billy--Billy Preston. That piousman liked to have the talk mainly to himself, and he thought thatanything not obscene was tame. By the way, these abrupt and insolentremarks are characteristic of public-house wit. A favourite joke is toask a friend a serious question. When he fails to answer, then the jokershouts some totally irrelevant and indecent word, and the questioned manis regarded as "sold. " I cannot repeat the interlude with which BillyPreston favoured us, but it was very spicy indeed, and referred to someof those sacred secrets which are known to all. For a pillar of theChurch, Billy displayed rather amazing tastes and abilities. Then thetalk fell into decency after the regulation merriment had greeted Mr. Preston's closing effort. 

"How long will you give Jobson to hold out?"

"I don't know. He's into everybody's books all round. I should like topick up that pony if he does smash. "

"I heard Charley Dunn say that Mrs. Jobson was round at old Burdett'sasking for time. Jimmy Burdett's got a lot of Jobson's paper, and Ishouldn't wonder if he stole a march on the other creditors. "

"Well, Jobson's a good sort, but he couldn't last. He's too free withhis money. I never wanted his champagne and his suppers, but you had todrop in like the others, and there you are. "

A strident voice drowned the scandal, and an admiring group ceasedsmoking and listened spellbound to a characteristic anecdote. I cannotput in all the expletives, but I may say that the speaker modelled hisstyle on that of the more eloquent betting men whom he knew. 

"I says to him, you'll trot me, will you? Why, go on with you, run andsee your grandmother, and get her to wipe your nose for you. Strike me, I could sweep the blank chimney with you! You want to get on to me, andyou know my cob can't go more than eleven at the outside. I was kiddin'him on, do you see? Then I winks at old Sammy, and he says, very solemn, 'It's absurd for you, sir, to talk of trotting this gentleman. The cob'sout of condition, and rough as a badger. ' You see I let the cob keep hiswinter coat, and he was an object and no error. So this bloke was a flyflat, don't you know, and I could see he bit. He says, 'I'd like to havea match with you. ' So I tips the office to Sammy, and blanked if hedidn't go and knock in a slice of bloomin' flint a little way betweenthe shoe and the near fore foot. I says very timid, 'Well, sir, I don'tmind having a try just for a bit of sport, if you'll lay £30 to £20. ' Hesays, 'Done with you, ' and we staked. When I sees my pony walkinggingerly, I made as if I was took aback. He saw the same thing, andsays, 'Pony's wrong. ' 'Yes, ' says I, 'worse luck. ' He says, 'I lay you£50 to £30 I beat you. ' I says, 'You have me at a disadvantage, sir, butI'm on, ' and I pulls out my three tenners. Then Sammy got the flint out, and we went into the road. I let him go away, and after we'd done fivemile he waves and cries good-bye. I never hustled my cob, for I found Icould go by when I liked. Two mile from Dorking I gives the cob hishead. Lord love you, he can do seventeen inside the hour, and he leftthat juggins as if he was standing still. When he drove up at Dorking, he says, 'You're a red-hot member!' and, by God, I think I am!"

This interesting yarn was received with rapture, and a remarkably stronganecdote of a lady and her footman fell flat, much to Mr. Preston'sdisgust. Then came the hour for personalities. As the drink takes effectour parlour customers attempt satire, and their efforts are always of astrongly personal nature. 

"If I'd a boiled beetroot face like you, I'd never show my 'ed in apublic room again. "

"What's your wrong end like, you bloomin' Dutchman?"

"You shouldn't kiss and tell. " (Rapturous applause. )

"Get away. You're too mean and miserable to do anything but count yourdibs. He's so mean, gentlemen, that when he dropped a sixpence into theplate at church instead of a fourpenny-piece, he stopped his wife'scat's-meat allowance for a week to make up. "

"If I had a voice like you I'd have it stuffed. "

"If I had a nose like you I'd pay no more gas bills. You know your wifeemptied the water-jug on you that night when you were lying boozed, because she thought it was a red-hot cinder on the floor. "

And so on. The company part without any goodwill, and a night of odiousstupidity is over. Personally, I regard every hour I have spent in thispublic-house as wasted. I never in my life heard a word of real fun, orreal sense, excepting from men who were merely casual visitors. Theperson whose mind is satisfied by the parlour dullness of that nightlyfoolery only becomes animated when he is indecent. In tracing thenatural history of a public-house I have found the respectable dullardsthe most revolting of my subjects. 

But the mere fact that our one wretched hole is stupid and sometimesrevolting by no means proves that all other places are of the same sort. I know one quiet, cleanly room where many smart young fellows go; theirtrade compels them to be decorous, and you see nothing but courtesy, andhear much good-natured and sensible chat. 

The riverside 'Arry is always an awful being, but the gentle, respectfullad who takes his lemonade and enjoys himself in German fashion is nicecompany. I have seen all sorts, and, while I would gladly burst a13-inch shell in such a cankered doghole as The Chequers, I am bound tosay that there are a few cosy, harmless places whereof the loss would bea calamity. 

 * * * * *

I grow weary now, and often at nights, when the vast shadow of the lampshudders on the ceiling and the wind moans hoarsely outside, I fall backin sheer luxury on the fine, straight, cut-and-thrust of old Boswell'sconversations as a relief from the slavering babble which I often hear. Being a Loafer is all very good so far; but some of the men (and women)who address me use a kind of familiarity that makes me long to lie downand die. A man never loses the dandy instinct, and when you come to beactually addressed in familiar, or even impudent, terms by a sort ofpromoted housemaid, it makes you long for the soft-voiced, quiet ladiesto whom a false accent or a shrill word would be a horror. 

So long as you are a Loafer you must be prepared to put up with much. The better-class artisan is always a gentleman who never offers norendures a liberty; but some of the flash sort are unendurable, and theirwomenkind are worse. With costers and bargemen one can always get onfamiliarly: it is the pretentious, vulgar men and females who arehorrible. 

Often and often I am tempted to creep back among the lights again, andfeel the old delicate joy from cultured talk, lovely music, steadyrefinement, and beauty. Then comes the reckless fit, and I am off to TheChequers. Here is a rhyme which takes my fancy. I suppose it is my own, but have quite forgotten:--

 This is the skull of a man, Soon shall your head be as empty: Laugh and be glad while you can. 

 * * * * *

 Where, from the silver that rims it, Glows the red spirit of wine, Once there was longing and passion, Finding a woman divine; Blurred is the finished design, This was the scope of the plan: Death, the dry Jester's old bauble-- Drink and be glad while you can. Sorry and cynical symbol, Ghastly old caricature, We, too, must walk in thy footsteps, We but a little endure. Bah! since the end is so sure, Let us out-frolic our span, Death is a hush and a darkness-- Drink and be glad while you can. 

A QUEER CHRISTMAS. 

The Loafer seems to have fancied the company of seamen a great deal. AtThe Chequers few of the saltwater fellows fore-gathered, but when theydid our Loafer was never long in picking them up. Here is one of theyarns which he heard. It is stuck in the Diary without reference todate, place of hearing, or anything else. 

Joe Glenn used to say that the queerest Christmas Day he ever spent fellin 1883, the year of the great gale. In that year there was crueltrouble, and the number of folks wearing mourning that one met in Hulland Yarmouth, and the other places, was enough to make the mostlight-hearted man feel miserable. Black everywhere--nothing but black atevery turn; and then the women's faces looked so wistful, and thechildren seemed so quiet, that I couldn't bear to walk the streets. Thewomen would question any stranger that came from the quays, and theyscorned to think that there was not always a chance for their men; butthe dead seamen were swinging about in the ooze far down under the greywaves, and the poor souls who went gaping and gazing day after day hadall their trouble for nothing. 

Glenn towed out on the 20th of October, and he cried, "Good-bye, Sal;back for Christmas!" as they surged away toward Gorleston. Joe was mateof the Esperanza, and he was a very promising chap. He knew his wayabout the North Sea blindfold, and all he didn't know about his tradewasn't worth knowing. If you had asked him who Mr. Gladstone was hewould probably have said, "I've heerd on him, " but he could not havetold you anything about Mr. Gladstone or any other statesman. So far asthe world ashore went, Joe was as ignorant as a five-year-old child, andyou would have laughed till you cried had you seen his delight when thepictures in a nursery-book were explained to him. It is hardly possibleto imagine the existence of a grown man who is ignorant of things thatare known to a child in the infant school; but there are many suchknocking about at sea. What can you expect? They live amid the moaningdesolation of that sad sea all the year round; they never used to haveany schooling, and their world even now is limited by the blank horizon, with the rail of their boat for inner barrier. Glenn could very nearlyread Moore's Almanac, and, as that great work was the only literature onboard, he often interpreted it, and he was counted a great scholar. Then, he could actually use a sextant, and his way of working out hislatitude was chaste and picturesque. Supposing he made the sun 29 deg. 18 min. , and the declination for the day was 6 deg. 34 min. 22 sec. , thenhe put down his figures this way:--

 8948 2918 6300 634 5356

and when his chums saw him working out this profound calculation on theside of a bucket or on the companion hatch, they would say, "He's awonnerful masterpiece. Yea, but he is, and nothin' but that. "

Glenn was daring--but that is nothing to say, for all the fishermen seeminsensible to fear. He was only once scared, and that was when he founda man leaning against the boat one pitch-dark night, just after thefishers had hauled. Joe thought the fellow was loafing, so he hit him aclout on the head, and made very uncomplimentary remarks. The victim ofthe assault took it very coolly, and one of the crew shouted--

"Don't touch that theer! He come up in the net while you was below. "

Then Joe looked at the face, and when he found he had been punching adead man he was sick. 

But under any ordinary circumstances you couldn't shake the man's nerve, and he was fit to go anywhere, and do anything so far as the sea wasconcerned. 

The Esperanza got up to her consorts, and then the usual toilsomemonotony of the fisherman's life began. At the end of a month Joe lookeda pretty object, for he had not washed himself all the time, and hishair and beard were like rough felt matting. There isn't much time forwashing in the winter, and the fellows often go for a couple of monthswithout feeling any water, except from the seas that are shipped. Afterthe month was over the men began to pick up heart, and they notched offthe days on the beams with much enjoyment. 

Joe was like most of the fishermen: he liked to talk to the gulls. Yousee, when you are knocking around for a couple of months, you soon tireof your own shipmates, and there is no one else to talk with. The seamostly makes it awkward to put out a boat except for purely businesspurposes, and you gradually get into the way of taking delight in smallthings. Joe would go aft, and call, "Kittee, Kittee--come, Kittee!" Thenwith superb curves the lovely gulls swept round, and remained delicatelypoised over the stern. Joe flung pieces of fish into the air, and keptchatting volubly as his pets swooped and squabbled. "Go and tell themwe're coming, Kittee, my prittee. Only twenty days more and round shegoes. Tell them we're all well, you sluts, and you'll have plenty offish when we run out again. " The gulls are the fisherman's friends, andthe men insist on crediting the beautiful, rapacious birds with anaccurate knowledge of human affairs. 

So the days flew by, and the time came when sugar--the seaman's luxuryin winter--began to run short. That was enough to make the fellows sickfor home, and they were ready to dance for joy when the gay flag washoisted at last. Gaily the Esperanza rattled through the fleet, andenvious men cried "What cheer!" in a doleful manner. After a twelvehours' run the wind fell away, and the sky began to look funny. Hoarsevague noises came over the sea, and it seemed as if certain sounds weregrowing weary and swooning away. Little breaths of air came softly--oh, so softly, and so deadly cold!--but the tiny puffs were hardly enough tosend a feather far. The birds wailed a good deal, and when the ducksbegan to cry "Karm, kah-ah-arm, " the men shouted, "Billee, run, Billee;or I'll bring the policeman!" for all the chaps hate to hear the ducksyawping. 

Clouds of haze moved around, and when the moon came up she seemed to beglowering from her shroud. Joe was anxious to take in something, but theskipper said, "Don't think there'll be much of it. We can reef her whenit comes away. I want to be home. " All the night it seemed as thoughsomething evil were in the air, and even the men below were depressed. Sometimes it happens that if you work long in a lonely house, you findyourself at night living in dread of some vague ill, and every crack ofthe woodwork is like an ominous message. It is just that way at seabefore a bad gale. 

When Joe saw the moon beginning to paint the clouds with leprous hues, and the great ring grew wider and wider, he looked at the mainsail, andwished the trouble over. At midnight there came a sigh; then a rattle ofblocks, and then a big, silent wave came pouring along. Something wasastir somewhere, and before long the Esperanza's crew knew what was thematter. The last glare of wild-fire flushed the sky, and then down camethe breeze. The Esperanza was as stiff as a house, but it made her lieover a little, and she roared along in fine style. In two hours thevessel was putting her lee rail nearly under, and a single sharp squallwould have hove her down, so the hands were called up to reef her. Joewas out on the boom, getting the reef-earrings adrift, when the first ofthe chapter of accidents came. A man sang out, "Look out for a drop o'water!" and a black mountain smashed over the Esperanza in an instantafter. Joe saw the third hand slip, and the next second the man waswhisked overboard. The Esperanza was still smothered, and a stab of pitywent through Joe's heart as he saw his shipmate wallowing. But he had notime for sentiment; he grabbed the reef-earring with his left hand, andclutched at the man with his right. When the vessel shook herself, bothgood fellows came inboard, and hung on panting. "No time to lose, " saidJoe; and indeed there wasn't. The spoondrift began to fly so that youcould not see the moon, and the wind was enough to choke you if youfaced it. I have heard Joe say that small shot couldn't have hit youvery much harder than the drift when you looked to windward. Then thesea was growing worse every minute, until at last every man on boardexcept the skipper wanted to let her ride. But the worthy captain said, "If she's got to be smothered, she'll be smothered moving. The nearer tohome the nearer to help, and she shall go. " So the Esperanza tore onthroughout the awful night with all four of her reefs in, and it was amercy, that she was never badly hit. At dawn the rushing hills of waterwere travelling like lightning. It was just as though some mighty powerhad set an Alpine district moving, and when a vessel soared over thecrown of a grey mountain she looked like a mere seabird. In the valleysof this mad, winding mountain range the whistling hurricane raved andwhirled, and the drift that was plucked looked like smoke from somehellish cauldron. And still the grizzled old skipper would go on, thoughit was touch-and-go every time a sequence of strong seas came howlingdown. The foresail went, and that was bad; but those fine seamen do notever come to the end of their resources so long as life lasts, and theygot ready to set another as soon as the wind showed the least sign offining off. The Esperanza tore onward, lunging violently, and shaking asthough she dreaded the grip of some savage pursuer. No wonder the seamenspeak of a vessel as if she had intelligence; there is something sostrangely vivid in the expression of a ship that it cannot be expressedin words, and I shall not try. 

At length Joe sang out, "I reckon that's the Galloper, skipper. "

"Right you are, chap! And what's that by the edge of the broken water?Wessel, I fancy. "

"'Tis a barque, skipper, and he's got 'em flyin'. "

The two men watched the vessel a long time, and they determined to rundown on her as near as might be safe. As they drew on her it appearedthat she was not actually hard-and-fast, but she was bumping apparently, and they guessed she had her anchors out. There is nothing in the way ofclose shaves that a smacksman will not venture, and the Esperanza wassoon within speaking distance. 

"We have a pilot aboard!" sang out someone on deck. 

"A lightning sort of pilot to ram her nose on the Galloper!" growled theold skipper. "Do you want any assistance?"

"Stand by for a bit and we'll see. "

So the Esperanza went to leeward of the shoal and hove-to. Presently thestranger signalled, "Come on board of us. "

Then Joe said, "That fellow's in a frap before his time, skipper. Ibelieve she'll come off when the tide turns. If she does, and we haveher in charge, that's a nice lump of money for all of us. "

"But how are we going to get to him?"

"I'll go, " said Joe. "Give me old Bill, and we'll take the boat down onhim. You get the trawl warp ready, and we'll either tow him or steerhim. "

"Right, chap; over with your boat, lads!"

Then Bill lay down in the boat, Joe put an oar in the sculling-notch, and the little thing flew before wind and sea, while the smack drew offa little. Presently the bulge of the boat's bow glanced along the ship'sside, and Joe flung his painter. Then a man clambered on to the rail, and Joe roared, "Where are you coming to?"

"I'm the pilot, and I'm coming aboard of you. "

"That you're not, you blasted coward! Stay where you are, and we'll seeif we can't save the wessel. "

But the pilot had lost his head. He got ready for a jump; the boatlifted, and he sprang; the backwash pushed her out, and the man's leftfoot only just touched the gunwale. He screamed like a woman, grippedvainly at the air, and rolled under. A sea drove his head against theship's side; the boat swung with tremendous force. Scraunch! and thepoor fellow was gone, with his head crushed like a walnut. Joe tried tograb him with the boathook, but it was useless, and the unhappypoltroon's body was whirled away. 

"Here's a nice go for a start! Up with you, Billy!"

Then the two fishermen gained the deck, and found not a soul to meetthem. "Where the devil are they all?" Joe ran forward, and went below. In the dim light he could see little, but he heard a sound as of menmoaning, and as his sight became accustomed to the dusk he saw severalswarthy fellows kneeling. They were kissing their crucifixes and makinga woeful noise. Joe yelled, "Where's your skipper?" but no one heededhim, and the moaning prayers went on. With a curse Joe rushed aft. Onhis way he saw the sounding rod, and he shouted, "See how much she's gotin her, Bill. There's a set of mounseers forrad there, no more good thankittens. "

Then the mate entered the after-cabin, and found a man on the floor. "What cheer, O, what cheer! Tumble up, my daisy!"

The man glared glassily, and muttered, "I speak him Ingleese verygood. "

"Never mind your Ingleese; come on, and make your fellows help to pump. "The captain rose, reeled, and fell. He was mortal drunk. 

"You been do you dam please, " he hiccupped; and Joe retired with ashrug. 

It was clear that the English pilot had run a Spanish ship aground, asnearly as possible, and only the two anchors kept her from going hardon. The two Englishmen found that the vessel had five feet of water inher, and, in their plain, matter-of-fact way, they set to work. Uglywashes were coming over, but they lashed themselves to the pump and setto work like the indomitable seadogs that they were. They could not makeher suck, but before they were utterly exhausted they reduced the watermuch, and then they cast themselves clear and began to prepare for thetide. They put the fore topsail on her, and then signalled for their ownvessel. With a last effort they got one anchor, but, when Joe proposedtrying the other, poor Billy groaned, "That's a pill enough for me, Joe;I shall die if we stand to it any more. Slip the other cable, boy. " Joeagreed; the anchor was lost, and the men prepared for the first creakthat would show that the tide was coming. The sea seemed to be finingoff a bit, so they looked round, and found to their horror that therudder was gone. She wallowed. "There she goes, Bill. But Lord, what ajob! Tell you, the smack must go under bare poles; we'll make her fastaft, and she'll steer us. "

This was a genuine seamanlike idea, for, of course, the drag of thesmack would steady the barque, and the two vessels could crawl alongwith some approach to surety. Another roll and groaning of timbers, thencame a lull and a flaw of wind; the topsail pulled, and, with a longgrind, the barque rolled off into deep water. 

"Hooray! Let her drift as she likes till the skipper gets to us. "

Bill jumped into the boat and guided her down wind to the Esperanza. Thesmack came close round, another hand joined Bill, and in half an hour acouple of warps were made fast to the Spaniard, and the two vessels wenton in procession. They could not do so much as a knot per hour, but, atall events, they were drawing into open water, and the smack steered thebarque quite true. 

It was a pity that a second hand did not remain with Joe, but no oneforesaw what would happen. The good mate went below forward, and foundthe men worse than ever from drink, panic, and religion. He tried all heknew to fetch them on deck, but nothing would serve. He tried thecaptain, but that worthy seaman was sleeping like a hog, and the cognacwas running in slavers from his mouth. 

"Shouldn't wonder if he has 'em on when he starts on the beer again, "muttered Joe. He saw a large sheath-knife, and secured that in his ownbelt; then he took a mouthful of wine, and went to his post. 

There was plenty of sea, but the prize was far too valuable to be left, and Glenn determined to make a bold bid for fortune. Not a single vesselpassed them all night, and they were lonely at dawn next day. Thesailors crept up one by one, but they only gathered in a jabbering knot, and scowled at the Englishman heavily. Joe made signs for them toturn-to at the pumps, but they scowled still more. Then he signed thathe wanted something to eat, but the fellows only looked venomous, andpoor Joe groaned, "To-morrow's Christmas Day, and no tommy to eat--letbe the pudden!"

It was indeed heartrending; but the skipper was a thoughtful man, andwhen he found that his mate was famine-struck, he risked swamping theboat, and sent some beef and biscuit. The shameless Spaniards had plentybelow, but they were enraged for some reason or other, and they wouldhave let their deliverer hunger himself to the bone. 

That evening, while Joe was easing the warps by shoving pieces of coirwhere the bite came, he felt a grip on his neck. Like a flash hethought, "Now, the knife. " He wrenched himself round, and there was theSpanish captain, glaring, trembling, and breathing hard. 

"See, see! You been help, Ingleese!" and he pointed to the dusk as heshrieked. 

Joe saw at once that the man was wild with drink, and he put on a smile, with a notion of coaxing the captain over. In a little while he managedto get him below, and, foolishly, filled him some more cognac. Joethought it best to stupefy the fellow, and the brandy certainly did sendhim to sleep. 

That was a bad night, for the wind rose again, and such a sea ran thatGlenn gave up hope at midnight, and got ready for the worst. At the dawnof Christmas Day the skipper offered to relieve him, but the risk wouldhave been too much, and the dogged East Coaster stuck to his work, though he was aching, drenched, and so sleepy that he did not know howto keep his eyes open. 

A queer Christmas? Yes, but not much more queer than the Christmaspassed by thousands of good fellows on that treacherous great channel. The warps both parted with an awful jerk at noon, just as Joe was aboutto drink a dismal health to Sal with some of the captain's cognac. Hetook a look round, and, though I cannot say that his courage went, I ambound to tell you that a kind of ferocious despair seized on him when hefound the bargue yawing away from the Esperanza. She might broach-to anytime, and then all would be over. Poor Joe! Not a soul was there tocomfort him. The Spanish sluggards came up sometimes and scowled, thenthey went below again. It was cruel work. The skipper of the Esperanzamade desperate efforts to get up, but dusk fell before he came near, and then it was too late to try anything especially as the barque wasgoing yard-arm under. Dark fell, and Joe heard moaning and gibberingonce more. The captain was creeping along the deck, "saying somethingabout Madd-ray, " as Joe put it. "It was him as was mad, " the smacksmansaid, with an attempt at humour. "He made a try to stick me, and I feltsomething sting my arm like a pin going in. "

That was true. The maddened drunkard made a staggering attempt to stabGlenn, and then, with a yell, he poised on the rail and jumped into thesea. 

That was really about enough for one Christmas Day, and Joe's nerve wasall gone. 

The cold seemed to grip his blood, for he had taken little goodnourishment; the vessel was helpless, and there was no shelter from theflying rivers of water that came over. Joe felt that strange, hard painacross the brows that seizes a man who has been long sleepless, and hecould have dozed off had it not been for the continual breaking of theseas. He saw the Esperanza's lights, and he wished that the boat couldhave been sent, if it were only to give him a little company. Therolling of the barque was awful at two in the morning, and, at last, oneviolent kick parted the mizen rigging on the starboard side. Then cameone vast roll, and a ponderous rush of water, and with a tearing crash, the mast went over the side. 

Joe edged his way forward, and once more spoke to the gang in theforecastle. By dint of signs he made them understand that he wanted ahatchet, and he also contrived to let them know that they must go downunless the port rigging was severed. For a wonder he got what he wanted, and he laboured until his elbows were numbed before the bumping, rollingmast was clear. 

Four hours till daylight, and wind and sea getting worse. Something mustbe done, or the strained ship would go for a certainty; it only wantedone unlucky sea to settle her. But what could one man do? If two of thesodden ruffians forrad would only come up, then something might be done;but one tired sailor was of little use. Glenn resolved to make one moreappeal to the Spaniards, for he had a bright plan in his head, and heneeded no more than the aid of two men to carry it out. A spare mainyardwas lashed out on deck, and Joe had noticed it with the seaman's quickeye when he came on board. If he could only get hold of a spare topsailhe could save the vessel, and he was ready to go on his knees to the menif they would show him a sail locker. After imploring, cursingthreatening, for five minutes, Joe at last got the mate to lug out asail; then he persuaded a lad who was more sober than the rest to comeon deck with a lantern. Now, it will be noticed that foreign seamen ingeneral are dreadfully afraid of taking to the boat. During this presentwinter our fellows have saved four or five foreign crews, and in everycase the vessels had their own boats undamaged, but the men dursn't riskthe trip themselves, so our fishermen had to peril their lives. TheSpaniard's boat was lashed so that no mortal could get her clear, andthe little craft was used as a sort of lumber-closet. Glenn had noticedsome steel rails in the boat, and he guessed that these specimens ofrailway plant were accidentally left out until the hatches had beenbattened down. 

He thanked God for the negligence. 

Working with desperate speed, he rudely bent the spare sail to the spar;then to the lower cloth of the sail he managed to fix two of the weightyrails, and then commenced to lug the yard past the vessel's foremast. Ittakes a long time to tell all this, but Joe was not long, though everymovement was made at the risk of his life. He hacked away two lengths ofrope measuring each about eighty feet; he made these into bridles, knotting one end of each piece to the end of the spar, and taking theother ends round the timber-heads. Two pieces of thin rope, hauled outof the hamper aft, were made fast to the ends of the steel rails, andthen Joe made a frantic effort to get his apparatus over the side. Nogood; he must humiliate himself again before those unspeakable aliens. Drenched, agonised for lack of sleep, weak with exertion, and bleedingfrom the hustling blows that he had received, the poor soul besought themen to lend him a hand, and swore to save them. They understood him fastenough, and one peculiarly drunken individual blundered up and obeyedGlenn's signs. With a violent effort the spar was hoisted and dropped;the steel rails sank, and there was an apparatus like an enormouswindow-blind hanging in the water. The barque soon felt the pull of thisnovel anchor; she swung round, with her head to the sea, and to Joe'spassionate delight she rode more softly, for the big spar broke everysea, and very little water came on board afterwards. The vessel wassecurely moored, for she could not drag that great expanse of canvasthrough the seas. 

When the grey light rose, there was quite plenty of sea, but the barquewas all right, and so was Joe, for he had coolly gone below, and he fellasleep, with a thankful heart, on the cabin bench. The ship was quiet asa cradle, and the smack's boat got up to her easily. The warps were madefast again, and the two vessels once more went away in procession. 

This time Joe had English company, and the two men had a good time untilthe tug picked them up off Lowestoft. Joe Glenn had not changed a stitchfor eleven days, but he did not mind the discomfort the lump of salvagemade up for much pain and striving. 

Joe bought a good cottage with his share, and he was satisfied; but Iquite agreed with him when he said that his money was hard earned. Noman ever spent a much queerer Christmas. 

JACK BROWN. 

When I first saw Jack, he had left his vessel at Barking Creek, and hewas enjoying a very vigorous spree; but he never lost temper or becamestupefied, and his loud merriment was rather pleasant than otherwise. Jack did not look by any means like a rough, for his face had a kind ofgirlish beauty. His dark cheeks were richly flushed, his throat wasround and white, and his blue eyes twinkled with fun. He stood about sixfeet in height, and he would have made a fine guardsman, for he lookedas if he had been carefully drilled all his life long. Men whohabitually exercise every muscle and tendon acquire that gracefulcarriage which belongs to the military gymnast. This fine young fellowwas full of high spirits and bodily power; courage was so natural to himthat I do not think such a word as "brave" ever entered his vocabulary. He had never been afraid of anything in his life, and it did not occurto him to think of danger. When Jack was a little child he was taken outto sea in his father's vessel, and henceforth a ship was his only homefrom year's end to year's end. The boy was so daring that he made someof the old hands nervous very often, and there were many dolefulprophecies made regarding the ultimate fate of his carcase. On one blowyday when the ships were pitching freely, it happened that Jack's fatherwent with fish to the steam cutter, leaving the urchin on deck. As theold man drew back within a quarter-mile of his smack, he saw a blackfigure clambering along the gaff, and he knew that it was Jack. YoungHopeful crawled from the throat of the gaff to the very end of the spar, and then proceeded to swarm up the gaff halyards--a most perilousproceeding. The father was aghast; he whispered hurriedly, "Pull, forGod's sake; she'll roll him overboard before we get up. " But the youngmonkey did not part with his hold so easily, and he came down by therings of the mainsail without so much as grazing his shins. 

In every vessel the men must have a plaything, and Jack served hisbigger comrades admirably in that capacity. Had not his father been onboard, the lad might have been ill-used in the horrible way so common inthe old days; but the stern skipper allowed no rough play, and the boywas merely set on to perform harmless tricks. Once the men dared him toclimb down the bobstay, and he instantly tried; but he gave the crew ascare, for he could not climb back after the vessel had dipped him a fewtimes, and, last of all, the boat was towered to rescue him. In hardweather and amid hard work, Jack grew steadily in strength and skill. Ihave seen him at work and he made me shudder, although the sight of hisamazing agility might have given anybody confidence. On wet nights whenthe deck was like a rink, he would make a rush as the boat pitched; thenhe would pick up his rope unerringly in the dark and, in another second, you would see him over the side with one foot on the trawl-beam in anattitude risky enough to make you want to close your eyes. 

It was nothing much to see him take a flying spring on to the main boomin the dark, and hang there reefing while the vessel jerked so that youmight have fancied she must send his ribs through the skin. I say it wasnothing, because he performed this feat nearly every winter night, afterthe midnight haul, and the spectacle grew common. I never knew himbungle over a rope or make a bad slip, and it was simply a pleasure tosee him steer. He never threw away an inch, and his way of stealing footby foot was worthy of any jockey. Sometimes when I was at the wheel andrunning a little to leeward of another vessel, he would say, "I reckon Ican weather him, sir, if you let me have her a bit;" and then, withdelicate touches and catlike watching of every puff and every send ofthe sea, he would edge his way up, and pass his opponent neatly. 

Most wonderful of all it was to see Jack handling the small boat inheavy weather. While the wee cockle-shell was rolling and bungling underour quarter, he would jump on the rail, measure his distance perfectly, spring on to the boat's gunwale and fend her off before she made thereturn roll. A marvellous performance that was, and the marvel onlyincreased when you saw the young fellow pitching heavy boxes of fish onto the deck of the great steam cutter. 

With a roar, and a savage sweep the big seas came; on their mountainoussides the shrill eddies of wind played, and the lines of foam twined inwavering mazes. Hill on hill gathered, and the seas looked like swellingDowns piled heap on heap, while the sonorous crests roared on hoarsely, and sometimes the face of the wild water was obscured in the white smokeplucked off by the gusts. 

Jack did not mind weather; the steamer hurled herself up on the bulge ofa sea, and then you could get a glimpse of a tall, lithe figure, straining in the small boat alongside the rearing iron hulk. Thatsplendid, lithe young lad performed prodigies of strength and courage;the hulk and the little boat sank down, --down until the steamer'smast-head disappeared; then with a rush the wave slid away, and thecraft came toppling down the hither side of the mountain, and still thatlithe figure was there, toiling fiercely and cleverly. Soon with a boundand a loud laugh, he was on board of us again, and no one could tellfrom one tremor of his merry, tawny face that he had been, of a truth, looking into the very jaws of death. 

This splendid man was innocent as a child of all worldly affairsunconnected with the sea. He once told me, "I can make a shift to getalong with an easy book; but if I come to a hard word, I cry'Wheelbarrows, ' and skip him. " On his own topics he was very sensible, and no owner could have found fault with him had he not been just alittle racketty on shore. In my refined days I remember reading in oneof Thackeray's books about a young lord who was much loved by one HenryEsmond: My friend Jack was very like that young man, and you could notget vexed with him, --or, at any rate, you could not keep vexed verylong. 

We soon made friends in The Chequers, and before midnight we wereconfidential. On my expressing wonder at seeing a Barking lad among us, Jack winked with profound meaning, and said, "I ain't Barking at all, only for this trip. My gal's a Lowestoft gal, and she've come up here, so I'm ready for her Sunday out to-morrow. See?"

Our second interview took place next day, and I saw the sweetheart. Shewas an ordinary pretty servant-girl, such as most of the fishermen pickup when they marry out of their own class; but I could see that she waslikely to make some difference in John's rather convivial habits. Shespoke like an ignorant woman with strong natural sense, and when Jackproposed having some beer, she said, "Ay, so! That's the way you fare togo. I've seen them, as soon as ever they leaves the pay-office, turninginto the public-house. And a master lot o' good that do, doan't it now?Men workin' like beasts for two months, and then dropping all theirmoney into the till in a week, and then off to sea short of clothes, besides very likely getting into trouble. Nay! Have yow a glass of aleif yow care, but no good never come on it, what I know. Leastways, notfor men that goes to the sea. "

So Jack and I deferred to Sally's opinion--until nine o'clock in theevening, and then we made up for lost time. It was amusing to see thecool way in which the handsome lad parted from his sweetheart. They hadnot met for two months, and yet I do not believe that they exchangedkisses either at meeting or parting. 

These folk are strangely undemonstrative. They are fond of each other, and most faithful, but they show nothing. On a grim morning after agale, when the vessels are towing up with flags half-mast high, thewomen will gather on the tow-path and by the quays; you see white, drawnfaces, but rarely a tear. The bleak, perilous life of the men seems tobe known intimately to the women, and they accept the worst fortune witha dry pathos that is heartbreaking. Jack and his sweetheart were in theflush of youth--nay, of physical beauty; they were passionately fond ofeach other; and they parted like casual strangers. When Jack went againbelow to the filthy, frowsy cabin of the smack, and thought over themonths of cold, toil, drenching weather, and hard fare, I have no doubtbut that he thought of the pretty girl, but he said very little, andlarked on as usual as soon as he got over his parting carouse. 

For several trips after this, my handsome fellow was wild and careless;his splendid constitution enabled him to drink with impunity theabominable stuff sold by the Copers, and he was merely merry when oldersoakers were delirious. His father and he parted, and the old manstayed at home as ship's husband to a firm of smack owners, and the ladhad his head free. He was as desperately brave as ever, for the subtlepoison was long in attacking his nerve; but many of his ways were queer, and the men who went home in the returning smacks carried unpleasantreports about him. At times, like Robert Burns, George Morland, and menof that kidney, he would give way to a passionate burst of repentance;but in his case the repentance always departed with the return of healthand buoyancy. 

One night he stayed on board a coper until a breeze came away; he theninsisted on straddling across the bow of the boat on the return journey, and he lost his grip for once in his life and went overboard. A dip ofthat sort, with heavy sea-boots on, is rather dangerous, and Master Jackfelt as though all the water in the North Sea was dragging at his legs;but he was hauled in at last. Even that experience only cured him for aweek, and then his resorts to the brandy-bottle began again. 

At last, when he was putting fish aboard the carrier, a letter washanded to him; he looked at it with rough tenderness, and crammed it, all greasy and gruesome, under his jumper. On getting aboard, he went toa quiet corner where the men could not tease, and he read, "Dear John, --I write these few lines hoping you are quite well as thisleaves me at present, but i don't think as you can be well if all istrew as we hear you are very wild and you ont have no money to come homeif you doant watshe it. You must either stop the beer or stop goin withme and then my heart would be broak, every girl I see which married adrinking man has supped sorrow for sertain, and the man the same, andyou will be just the same. Pray, my dear, do take the right tirning, orI must keap my word. So no more at present from your loveing SARAHKERRISON. "

Jack cursed once, and then muttered "Werra well, let her. Let her go andtake on some one better;" but he was amazingly unhappy despite hisdefiance, and his unhappiness drove him to frantic excesses. He used toscare his companions by saying, "If God takes my girl, they can talkabout Him as they like, but He shan't take my soul, not if I damn forit. " Then when the shuddering men said, "For mercy's sake, shut up. It's enough to sink the wessel, " he would make answer, "Werra good, lether sink; and the sooner the better. "

The days wore away, and the time came for Jack to run home. The smackwas well clear of the fleets and spinning along nicely to southward on adark night, and Jack was at the wheel. His nerve was just a littletouched, and he muttered, "This is a devil of a night. I wish we werewell home. "

It was indeed a weird night; the wind thrummed on the cordage; the gaffwhistled with tremulous sounds, as though some frightened soul wereshivering at the mast-head; and when the inky waves rolled out of thegloom, they showed no definite shape--only a sliding dark cloud fringedwith white flame. There is always a steady roar from the sails, and onehears it better at night; Jack had often heard the roar rise to a howl, but no noise that ever he knew had such effect on him as the rushingmoan from the sails that night. 

There are only two men in a watch on board a smack, and it often happensthat one will go below to fetch some of the tea which the seamen drinkso insatiably. Jack's mate was below, but the helmsman had no fear, asall was clear. He mused on, always peering sharply round for a fewminutes when suddenly, over the haze which was rising, he saw a whitelight, and then the loom of a green. "All right; well clear, " hemuttered. "Glad the fog's no higher. Why doesn't he use his whistle?"Then, with the suddenness of lightning, he found the red light opened onhim, and, with a chill at his heart, he discovered that he could not gethis own vessel out of the road. Once he sang out, and then came thelooming of a black mountain over him. Until the monster's stem took himon the quarter and the smack hurled over--hustled into the sea by theimpetus of the steamer--Jack never left go of his wheel; he had a fewseconds, and, with his nimble spring, he rushed to the mizen rigging, nicked the strings of one lifebuoy; lifted another from forward of thecompanion, and then made his rush for the forehatch. 

"All out. No time for the boats!"

One man sprang up panting and Jack said, "Here you are, Harry. Shovethat on, and jump. Jump to windward. " The smack reared up; there was along crashing rush of the swift water; then Jack saw the liquid darknessover him, and he was just beginning to hear that awful buzzing in theears when, with a roar, he felt the upper air swoop round him. 

He could just see a coil of foam on the blackness to mark where thesmack had gone down, and, as he cleared his eyes, he saw the cloudyshape of the steamer far away. "Harry, boy!" he sang out, but Harry musthave been hit by a spar, and Jack Brown was left alone on that bleak, black waste of wandering water. 

"A lingering death, " he murmured, as he felt the spray cut round hishead; but he struggled resolutely to keep his face front the set of thesea, and the buoy supported him bravely. His thoughts ran on thingspast; he had spoken unkindly of Sally, behind her back; he had beentipsy--Ah! how often! Then he thought, "Shall I pray and repent?" Allthe dare-devil in the deluded lad's soul arose at this question, and hesnarled "No. Blowed if I snivel just yet, only because I'm in a badway. " Oh, Jack, Jack! And the deep grave weltering below you, and only aring of cork and oilskin to keep you out of that cold home. Was therenever a shudder as you thought of the crowding fishes? Their mercilesscold eyes! Their grey, slimy skin! But Jack was at that day a recklessfellow, and he lived to be passionately sorry for his splenetic madness. 

The cold grew worse and worse, and it seemed to creep toward Jack'sheart. He gave one cry, and instantly he heard a faint answer. Could itbe the scream of a gull? Nay, they rest at night. He called again, andthe voice of his agony was answered by a loud hail; then a flare waslit, and Jack knew that the steamer's boat had been searching for him. 

"Easy. Shove the painter under his arms, and then two of you haul. "

So Jack was plumped into the boat, and lay limp and sick. In an hour hewas warm asleep in his berth on board the steamer, and, I am afraid tosay that he begged hard for a pipe before he dozed over. 

The steamer took him home, and he was received in a matter-of-fact wayby his people. He had had a dousing! Yes, but it was all in the day'swork. That is the way in which the good folk talk. 

Jack was never the same again, and some of the old men said "he lookedas if he had seen something. " Yes, he had seen something, and he said toSally, "All right about that letter of yours. Let it stick to the wall. "The man was very grave and kind, and he spoke freely to those of hiscronies who were on shore; but he would not go near his old haunts, andsome people thought he must have got religious. Perhaps he had. At anyrate something that happened not long afterwards made the suppositionprobable. Jack was on the Ter Schelling bank when his turn came to gohome again, and he was moodily wondering whether any such ordeal wouldever be put on him as that which he endured when the steamer sank hisvessel. 

The weather looked ugly; the glass went fast down, and a wild andleprous-looking moon shone lividly through a shifting mask of troubledclouds. A sullen calm fell, and the smack rolled with clashing blocksand groaning spars, making night hideous. In the morning a gale brokeand soon came a blinding fall of snow. It was impossible to see manyyards through the rushing drift of murky yellow, but Jack took in allfour reefs, and ran on with a rag of sail and a three-cloth jib. 

It was not a sea that came away; it was a mere enormous cataract thatpoured on irresistibly. Jack knew that so long as he could keep the boatmoving, he might escape having his decks stove in, so he determined totry it--neck or nothing. No man on board knew when the sea might comewhich would heave her down, and they watched grimly as the gallant crafttore on. Some wanted to heave-to, but the skipper knew that he wouldstand a good chance of being smothered that way, and he resolved to getas near home as possible, in case the hurricane grew worse. After boringfor ten hours in the worst of the tremendous sea, he saw a vessel toleeward of him, flying signals of distress. She was sinking, and herboat was smashed. The mate said, "That poor chap on't see land. " Jackthought a little, and then he said, "I'm going to try. Out with yourboat. " Discipline on board the smacks is not very strict, and the menwere inclined to question the wisdom of Jack's proposal; but Englishmenalways lean to humanity, and with a little persuasion, all handsvolunteered. Jack took one unmarried man, and then coolly proceeded tomake his wild attempt. It was a forlorn kind of chance for everybody, but as Jack said, "I was saved once, and I know what them poor bloodsfeel like. "

The little boat had first of all to run down on the sinking smack, andthen, at the risk of capsizing, Jack's vessel ran to leeward and cameround, sending everything shaking as she came up. Only desperately braveand supremely kindly people would have dared such a thing, and even theskipper of the foundering vessel said, "Well, chaps, I thought no onebut a mad one would a-tried it on; but Gord bless you all the same. "

After that, Jack was obliged to let go his anchor within sound ofbreakers, and his fight with death lasted all night. The lifeboats couldnot get out to him, and he could only pray that the snow-curtain mightlift. In the morning a slant of wind came which enabled him to get awayfrom the gnashing breakers, and he got in with the loss of his gaff. Sally was home for Christmas-time, and she was mighty proud when no lessa person than the Mayor presented Jack with a town's subscription, whichwas quite enough to fit up a house. 

Jack is my favourite of all the loose fish I have known, and if ever Itake up my place again--alas!--I shall have him with me, and make himlive ashore. 

SWIFT & Co. , Printers, 2, Newton Street, High Holborn, W. C. 

Transcriber's note

The following typos have been corrected in the text:

Page Problem Correction

10 to a a queer to a queer14 found the found that the16 the nthe then the21 had manage had managed30 everybody, The everybody. The74 How is this? "How is this?79 laulo Rye. Laulo Rye. "79 Rye. Rye. )95 We must have "We must have95 enagagement engagement125 No one better "No one better129 you are touched you are touched. 130 convervation conversation137 fraced traced141 youself yourself143 six at night six at night. 143 all the day all the day. 162 Ned Donnelly's? Ned Donnelly's. 200 ower power201 Do you want "Do you want208 bargue barque

The following words with and without hyphenation were left as in the text:

arm-pits armpitsmast-head masthead