Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
LIFE IN LONDON
OR, THE PITFALLS OF A GREAT CITY
BY EDWIN HODDER, ESQ.
1890.
CONTENTS.
I. THE INTRODUCTION
II. SCHOOL-BOY DAYS
III. STARTING WELL
IV. MEETING A SCHOOL-FELLOW
V. A FARCE
VI. THE LECTURE
VII. GETTING ON IN THE WORLD
VIII. A TEST OF FRIENDSHIP
IX. IN EXILE
X. MAKING DISCOVERIES
XI. THE SICK CHAMBER
CHAPTER I.
THE INTRODUCTION.
Breathless and excited, George Weston came running down a street in
Islington. He knocked at the door of No. 16, and in his impatience,
until it was opened, commenced a tattoo with his knuckles upon the
panels.
"Oh, mother, mother, I have got such splendid news!" he cried, as he
hurried down stairs into the room where Mrs. Weston, with her apron on
and sleeves tucked up, was busy in her domestic affairs. "Such splendid
news!" repeated George. "I have been down to Mr. Compton's with the
letter Uncle Henry gave me, in which he said I wanted a situation, and
should be glad if Mr. Compton could help me; and, sure enough, I was
able to see him, and he is such a kind, fatherly old gentlemen, mother.
I am sure I shall like him."
"Well, George, and what did he say!"
"Oh! I've got ever so much to tell you, before I come to that part. The
office, you know, is in Falcon Court, Fleet Street; such a dismal place,
with the houses all crammed together, and a little space in front, not
more than large enough to turn a baker's bread-truck in. All the windows
are of ground glass, as if the people inside were too busy to see out,
or to be seen; and on every door there are lots of names of people who
have their offices there, and some of them are actually right up at the
top storeys of the houses. Well, I found out the name of Mr. Compton,
and I tapped at a door where 'Clerk's Office' was written. I think I
ought not to have tapped, but to have gone in, for somebody said rather
sharply, 'Come in,' and in I went. An old gentleman was standing beside
a sort of counter, with a lot of heavy books on it, and he asked me what
I wanted. I said I wanted to see Mr. Compton, and had got a letter for
him. He told me to sit down until Mr. Compton was disengaged, and then
he would see me."
"And what sort of an office was it, George? And who was the old
gentleman? The manager, I suppose!"
"I think he was, because he seemed to do as he liked, and all the clerks
talked in a whisper while he was there. I had to wait more than
half-an-hour, and I was able to look round and see all that was going
on. It is a large office, and there were ten clerks seated on
uncomfortable high stools, without backs, poring over books and papers.
I don't think I shall like those clerks, they stared at me so rudely,
and I felt so ashamed, because one looked hard at me, and then whispered
to another: and I believe they were saying something about my boots,
which you know, mother, are terribly down at heel, and so I put one foot
over the other, to try and hide them."
"There was no need of that, George. It did not alter the fact that they
were down at heel; and there is no disgrace in being clothed only as
respectable as we can afford, is there?"
"Not a bit, mother: and I feel so vexed with myself because I knew I
turned red, which made the two clerks smile. But I must go on telling
you what else I saw. The old gentleman seems quite a character--he is
nearly bald, has got no whiskers, wears a big white neckcloth and a tail
coat, and takes snuff every five minutes out of a silver box. Whether he
knows it or not, the clerks are very rude to him: for when he took
snuff, one of them sneezed, or pretended to sneeze, every time, and
another snuffled, as if he were taking snuff too."
"That certainly does not speak well for the clerks," said Mrs. Weston.
"Old gentlemen do have peculiar ways sometimes, but it is not right for
young people to ridicule them."
"No, it is not; and I don't like to see people do a thing behind another
one's back they are afraid to do before his face. When the clerks had to
speak to the old gentleman, they were as civil as possible, and said,
'Yes, sir,' and 'No, sir,' to him so meekly, as if they were quite
afraid of him; but after a little while, when he took up his hat and
went out, they all began talking and laughing out loud, although when he
was there, they had only occasionally spoken in low whispers. There was
only one young man, out of the whole lot, who did not join with them,
but kept at his work; and I thought if I got a situation in that office,
I should try and make friends with him."
"That's right, George. I would rather you should not have a situation at
all, than get mixed up with bad companions. But go on, I am so anxious
to hear what Mr. Compton said."
"Well, after half-an-hour, I heard a door in the next room close, and a
table-bell touched, and then the old gentleman, who had by this time
returned, went in Presently he came out again, and said Mr. Compton
would see me. Oh, mother! I felt so funny, you don't know. My mouth got
quite dry, my face flushed, and I couldn't think whatever I should say,
I felt just as I did that day at the school examination, when I had to
make one of the prize speeches. But I got all to rights directly I saw
Mr. Compton. He said, 'Good morning to you--be seated,' in such a nice
way, that I felt at home with him at once."
"And what did you say to him, George?"
"I had learnt by heart what I was going to say, but in the hurry I had
forgotten every word. So I said, 'My name is--' (it's a wonder I did not
say Norval, for I felt a bit bewildered at the sound of my own voice)
'--my name is George Weston, sir, and I have brought you a letter from
my uncle, Mr. Henry Brunton, who knows you, I think.' 'Oh! yes," he
said, 'he knows me very well; and, if I mistake not, this letter is
about you, for he was talking to me about a nephew the other day.' Isn't
that just like Uncle Henry?--he never said anything about that to us,
but he is so good and kind, we are always finding out some of his
generous actions, about which he never speaks. While Mr. Compton was
reading the letter, I had leisure to look at him, and at his room. He is
such a fine-looking old man, just like that picture we saw in the
Academy, last year, of the village squire. He looks as if he were very
benevolent and kind-hearted, and he dresses just like some of the
country gentlemen, with a dark green coat and velvet collar, a frill
shirt, and a little bit of buf. waistcoat seen under his coat, which he
keeps buttoned. He had got lots of books, and papers, and files about,
and sat hi an arm-chair so cosily--in fact, I should not have thought
that nice carpeted room was really an office, if it had not been for the
ground-glass windows. Just as I was thinking why it was the glorious
sunshine is not admitted into offices, Mr. Compton said--"
"What did he say, George? I have waited so patiently to hear."
"He said, 'Well, _Mr_. Weston,'--(he did really call me Mr. Weston,
mother; I suppose he took me for a young man: it is evident he did not
know I was wearing a stick-up shirt collar for the first time in my
life)--'I have read this letter, and am inclined to think I may be able
to do something for you.' That put my 'spirits up,' as poor father used
to say; and I said, 'I'm very glad to hear it, Sir.' So then he told me
that he wanted a junior clerk in his office, who could write quickly, be
brisk at accounts, and make himself generally useful, as the
advertisements in the _Times_ say. I told him I could do all these
things; and he passed me a sheet of paper, to give him a specimen of my
handwriting. I hardly knew what to write, but I fixed upon a passage of
Scripture, 'Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the
Lord.' My hand was so shaky, that all the letters with tails to them had
the queerest flourishes you ever saw. Mr. Compton smiled when I handed
him the sheet of paper--I don't know whether it was at the writing, or
at the quotation, and I wished I had written a passage from Seneca
instead!"
"You did not feel ashamed at having written a part of God's word, did
you, George?"
"No, not ashamed, mother; but I thought it was not business-like, and
seemed too much like a schoolboy."
"I think it was very business-like. It would convey the idea that you
would seek to do your business from the best and highest motives. But
what did Mr. Compton say?"
"He only said he thought the handwriting was good. Then he told me that
he would take me as his clerk, and should expect me to be at my post
next Monday morning, at nine o'clock. 'And now,' he said, 'we must fix
upon a salary; and as your uncle has told me that you are anxious to
maintain yourself, I will give you a weekly sum sufficient for that
purpose; and if you give me satisfaction, I will raise it yearly.' And
what do you think he offered me, mother?"
"I really do not know; perhaps, as you are young, and have never been in
a situation before, he said five shillings a week, although I did not
think you would get any salary at all for the first six months."
"No, mother, more than five shillings; guess again," said George, his
face shining with excited delight.
"Then I will guess seven and sixpence a week," said his mother,
doubtfully, for she thought she had gone too high.
"More than that, mother; guess only once more, for I cannot keep it in
if you are not very quick."
"Then I shall say ten shillings a week, George; but I am afraid I have
guessed too much."
"No, mother, under the mark again. I am to have ten shillings and
sixpence--half a guinea a week! Isn't that splendid? Only fancy, Mr.
George Weston, Junior Clerk to Mr. Compton, at half-a-guinea a week! My
fortune is made; and, depend upon it, mother, we shall get on in the
world now, first-rate. Why, I shall only want--say, half-a-crown a week
for myself, and then there will be all the rest for you. Now don't you
think blind-eyed Fortune must have dropped her bandage this morning, and
have spied me out?"
"No, George; but I think that kind Providence; which has always smiled
upon us when we have been in the greatest difficulties, has once more
shown us that all our ways are in the hands of One who doeth all things
well."
"So do I, mother; and I do hope that this success, which has attended my
journey this morning, may turn out to our real good. I feel it will--we
shall be able to go on now so swimmingly, and I shall be getting a
footing in the world, so that by-and-bye we shan't have a single debt,
or a single care, and you will be growing younger as fast as I grow
older: and then, after a time, we will get a little house in the
country, and finish up our days the happiest couple in the British
dominions."
For the remainder of that day, poor George was in a regular whirl of
excitement. A thousand schemes were afloat in his mind about the future,
of the most improbable kind. His income of half-a-guinea a week was to
do wonders, which were never accomplished by half a score of guineas.
He speculated about the rise in his salary at the end of the year, which
he was determined, if it rested upon his own industry, should not be
less than a pound a week; and then he forgot the first year, and
commenced calculating what he could do, with his increased salary, till,
at last, worn out with scheming, he said,--
"Money is a great bother, after all, mother. I've been calculating all
this day how we can spend my salary; and I am really more perplexed than
if Mr. Compton had said I should not have anything for the first six
months. I can't make ends meet if I attempt to do what I have planned,
that's very certain; so I shall quietly wait till the first Saturday
night comes, and I feel the half-guinea in my hand, and then I shall
better realize what it is worth."
That was a pleasant evening Mrs. Weston and George spent together in
discussing the events of the day, and when it became time to separate
for the night, she said--
"This is one of the happiest days we have spent for a long time, George.
How your poor father would have enjoyed sharing it with us!" and the
widow sighed.
"Mother," said George, "I have thought of poor father so many times
to-day, and I have formed a resolution which I mean to try and keep. He
was a good man. I don't think he ever did anything really wrong--and I
recollect so well what he used to tell me, when I was a boy"--(George
had jumped into manhood in a day, he fancied)--"I mean to take him for a
model; and if I find myself placed in dangers and difficulties, I shall
always ask myself, 'What would father have done if he had been in this
case?' and then I should try and do as he would."
"May you have strength given to you, my deal boy, to carry out every
good resolution! But remember, there is a model which must be taken even
before that of your father. I mean the pure, sinless example of our
Lord; follow this, and adhere to the plain directions of God's word, and
you cannot go wrong. And now, good night; God bless you, my son!"
It was a long time before George went to sleep; again and again the
events of the day came to his memory, and he travelled in thought far
into the future, peering through the mist which hung over unborn time,
and weighing circumstances which might never have a being.
"I shall be quite accustomed to my duties by next Monday," he said to
his mother in the morning; "for I was all night long busy in the office,
counting money, posting books, and when I awoke I was just signing a
deed of partnership in the name of Compton and Weston."