and in a moment after found myself in the centre of the well-saw dusted
area in the interior, gazing on the various birds and beasts in the
cages around me. It was by no means a perplexing task; for, as in the
case of "The Great Lancashire Giant," the fulfilment of the inside but
little corresponded with the promise of the out. The principal part of
the collection I found to consist of half-a-dozen starved monkeys, as
many parrots--grey and green, an indescribable monster, in a dark
corner, strongly suspected by some of the spectators of being a boy in a
polar bear's skin, a bird of paradise, and a hedgehog, which they
dignified with the name of a porcupine.
"Whaur's the lions, and the teegers, and the elephants, and the boy
instructor, and the black man?" said a disappointed countryman,
addressing a fellow in a short canvas frock or overall, who was crossing
the area with a bucket of water.
"Ah! them's all in the other caravan," replied the man, "vich should
'ave been here on Monday night, but hasn't coom yet, and we suppose has
broken down by the way; but there's a hanimal worth 'em all," he added,
pointing to the indescribable monster in the dark corner. "The most
curiousest ever was seen. Take a look on him; and if you don't own he
is, I'll heat him, skin and all. They calls him the great Guampa from
South America."
Having said this, the fellow, desirous, for reasons best known to
himself, to avoid further questioning, hurried away, and disappeared at
a side door.
It was just as this man left us, and as the small crowd of spectators,
of whom I was one, who had surrounded him, were dispersing, that a
gentleman--or a person, at least, who had the air and manner of one,
although somewhat broken down in his apparel--came close up to me, and
whispered in my ear, in a perfectly calm and composed tone--
"My lad, you are robbed."
With a start of horror, and a face as pale as death, I clapped my hand
on the outside of my buttoned jacket, to feel for my pocket-book, which
I carefully deposited in an inside pocket. It was gone.
"Be calm--be composed, my lad," said the gentleman, marking my excessive
agitation, and seeing that I was about to make some outcry. "The fellows
will bolt on the least alarm; and as there are three or four of them,
may force their way out, if driven to extremity. Leave the matter to me,
and I'll manage it for you."
During all this time, the stranger, who had spoken in a very low tone,
carefully abstained from looking towards those of whom he was speaking,
and wore such an air of composure and indifference, that no one could
possibly have suspected for a moment what was the subject of his
communication to me.
Having made this communication, and desired me to remain where I was,
and to exhibit no symptom of anything particular having happened, my
friend, as I could not but reckon him, went out for an instant.
When he returned, he kept hovering about the entrance into the show, as
if to prevent the egress of any one, but without making any sign to me,
or even looking at me. My agitation during this interval was excessive;
and although I strictly obeyed my friend's injunctions, notwithstanding
that I knew not to what they were to lead, I could not suppress the
dreadful feelings by which I was distracted. I, however, did all I could
to refrain from exhibiting any outward sign of consciousness of my loss.
To return to my friend. He had not stood, I think, more than a minute at
the entrance to the menagerie, when I observed three fellows, after
having winked to each other, edging towards it. My friend, on seeing
them approach, planted himself in the doorway, and, addressing the
first, at the same time extending his arms to keep him back, said--
"Stop a moment, my lad, I have something to say to you."
The fellow seemed taken aback for a moment by this salutation; but,
quickly regaining his natural effrontery, he, with a tremendous oath,
made an attempt to push past, when four policemen suddenly presented
themselves at the entrance.
"Come away, my lads," said my friend, addressing them. "Just in time; a
minute later, and the birds would have been flown. Guard the door there
a moment." Then, turning to the astonished spectators who were assembled
in the area--"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "there has been a robbery
committed here within these fifteen minutes. I saw it done, and know the
person who did it; but as he has several colleagues here, all of whom I
may not have discovered, I have no doubt that the pocket-book--the
article stolen--has been long since transferred to other hands than
those that first took it. It is therefore necessary that we should all,
without any exception, submit to a search of our persons by the officers
here."
No objection to this proceeding having been offered by any of the
persons present, the search began; my friend submitting himself the
first.
The operation was a tedious one; for it was unsuccessful. One after
another, including the three suspicious characters already alluded to,
was searched, but no pocket-book was found. At length, the last person
was taken in hand; and he, too, proved innocent--at least of the
possession of my lost treasure.
I was in despair at this result, thinking that my friend must have been
mistaken as to the robbery--that is, as to his having witnessed it--and
that my money was irretrievably gone. No such despair of the issue,
however, came over my friend--he did not appear in the least
disconcerted; but, on the completion of the fruitless search, merely
nodded his head, uttering an expressive humph.
"It's gone," said I to him in bitter anguish.
"Patience a bit, my lad," he replied, with a smile. "The pocket-book is
within these four walls, and we'll find it too."
Turning now to one of the men belonging to the establishment, he desired
him to bring one of the rakes with which they levelled the sawdust in
the area.
It was brought; when he set the man to work with it--to rake up, slowly
and deliberately, the surface of the sawdust, himself vigilantly
superintending the operation, and directing the man to proceed
regularly, and to leave no spot untouched. I need not say with what
intense interest I watched this proceeding. I felt as if life or death
were in the issue; for the loss of such a sum as £30, although it could
not, perhaps, be considered a very great one, was sufficiently large to
distress my father seriously; and already some idea of never facing him
again, should the money not be recovered, began to cross my mind.
All thoughts, however, of this or any other kind were absorbed, for the
moment, by the deep interest which I took in the operations of the man
with the rake; an interest this in which all present, less or more,
participated.
For a long while this search also was fruitless. More than half the area
had been gone over, and there was yet no appearance of my lost treasure.
At length, however--oh! how shall I describe the joy I felt?--a sweep of
the rake threw the well-known pocket-book on the surface of the sawdust.
I darted on it, clutched it, tore it open, and saw the bank-notes
apparently untouched. I counted them. They were all there.
"I thought so; I thought we should find it," said, with a calm smile,
the gentleman who had been so instrumental in its recovery.
The whole proceedings of the thief or thieves, so promptly and correctly
conjectured by my friend, were now obvious. Finding that passing it from
hand to hand would not avail them, he who was last in possession of it
had, on the search commencing, dropt it on the ground, and shuffled it
under the sawdust with his foot.
The police now requested my friend to point out the person who had
committed the robbery, that they might apprehend him; but this he
declined, saying that he was not quite sure of the man, and that he
would not like to run the risk of blaming an innocent person; adding,
with the quiet smile that seemed to be natural to him, that as the money
was recovered, it might be as well to let the matter drop. The police
for some time insisted on my friend pointing out the man; but as he
continued firmly to decline interfering further in the matter, they gave
it up and left the place.
Every one saw that it was benevolence, however impoperly exerted, that
induced my friend to refuse giving up the culprit; and as I had now
recovered my money, I felt pretty much in the same disposition--that
was, to allow him to fall into other hands.
I now presented the man who had been employed to rake the area with five
shillings, for his trouble. But how or in what way was I to reward the
friendly person to whom I was wholly indebted for the recovery of my
pocket-book? This puzzled me sadly. Money, at least any such sum as I
could spare, I could not offer one who, notwithstanding the little
deficiencies in his apparel formerly noticed, had so much the appearance
and manner of a gentleman. I was greatly at a loss. In the meantime, my
friend and I left the exhibition together; he lecturing me the while,
although in the most kindly manner, on the danger of going into crowded
places with large sums of money about one's person.
He said he had seen a good deal of the world, had resided long in
London, and knew all the tricks of the swell mob.
"It was my knowledge and experience of these gentry," he added, "that
enabled me to manage your little matter so successfully." We were at
this time passing along Stockwell Street, when, observing a
respectable-looking tavern, it struck me that I might, without offence,
ask my friend to take a little refreshment,--a glass of wine or so.
With some hesitation, I proposed it.
He smiled; and as if rather complying with my humour, or as if unwilling
to offend me by a refusal, said, "Well, my young friend, I have no
objection, although I am not greatly in the habit of going to taverns.
Not there, however," he added, seeing me moving towards the house on
which I had fixed my eye. "There is a house in the Saltmarket, which, on
the rare occasions I do go to a tavern, and that is chiefly for a sight
of the papers, I always frequent. They are decent, respectable people.
So we'll go there, if you please; that is, if it be quite the same to
you."
I said it was, and that I would cheerfully accompany him wherever he
chose.
This point settled, we proceeded to the Saltmarket; when my friend, who,
by the way, had now told me that his name was Lancaster, conducted me up
a dark, dirty-looking close, and finally into a house of anything but
respectable appearance. The furniture was scanty, and what was of it
much dilapidated: half the backs of half the chairs were broken off, the
tables were dirty and covered with stains and the circular marks of
drinking measures. A tattered sofa stood at one end of the apartment,
the walls were hung with paltry prints, and the small, old-fashioned,
dirty windows hung with dirtier curtains.
To crown all, we met, as we entered, a huge, blowzy, tawdrily dressed
woman, of most forbidding appearance, who, I was led to understand, was
the mistress of the house. Between this person and Mr. Lancaster I
thought I perceived a rapid secret signal pass as we came in, but was
not sure.
All this--namely, the appearance of the house and its mistress, the
shabbiness of the entrance to the former, the secret signal, etc.
etc.--surprised me a little; but I suspected nothing wrong--never dreamt
of it.
On our taking our seats in the apartment into which we had been shown, I
asked my good genius, Mr. Lancaster, what he would choose to drink.
He at once replied that he drank nothing but wine; spirits and malt
liquors, he said, always did him great injury.
But too happy to be able to contribute in any way to the gratification
of one who had rendered me so essential a service, I immediately ordered
a bottle of the best port, he having expressed a preference for that
description of wine.
It was brought; when Mr. Lancaster, kindly assuming the character of
host, quickly filled our glasses, when we pledged each other and drank.
Wine, at that time, was no favourite liquor of mine, so that I soon
began to show some reluctance to swallowing it.
Mr. Lancaster, perceiving this, began to banter me on my abstemiousness,
and to urge me to do more justice to the wine, which he said was
excellent.
Prevailed on partly by his urgency, and partly by a fear of displeasing
him by further resistance, I now took out my glass as often as he filled
it.
The consequence was, that I soon felt greatly excited; and eventually so
much so, that I not only readily swallowed bumper after bumper, but,
when our bottle was done, insisted on another being brought in;
forgetting everything but my debt of gratitude to Mr. Lancaster, and
losing sight, for the moment at any rate, of all my obligations, in the
delight with which I listened to his entertaining conversation. For
another half hour we went on merrily, and the second bottle of wine was
nearly finished, when I suddenly felt a strange sinking sensation come
over me. The countenance of Mr. Lancaster, who sat opposite me, seemed
to disappear, as did also all the objects with which I was surrounded.
From that moment I became unconscious of all that passed. I sank down on
the floor in the heavy sleep, or rather in the utter insensibility, of
excessive intoxication.
On awaking, which was not until a late hour of the night, I found the
scene changed. The room was dark, the bottles and glasses removed, and
my friend Mr. Lancaster gone.
It was some seconds before I felt myself struck by this contrast; that
is, before I fully recollected the circumstances which had preceded my
unconsciousness. These, however, gradually unfolded themselves, until
the whole stood distinctly before me. After having sat up for a second
or two--for I found myself still on the floor when I awoke, having been
left to lie where I fell--and having recalled all the circumstances of
the day's occurrences, I instinctively clapped my hand to the breast of
my jacket to feel for my pocket-book. It was again gone. Thinking at
first that it might have dropt out while I slept, I began groping about
the floor; but there was no pocket-book there. In great alarm I now
started to my feet, and began calling on the house. My calls were
answered by the landlady herself, who, with a candle in her hand, and a
fierce expression of face, flushed apparently with drink, entered the
apartment, and sternly demanded what I wanted, and what I meant by
making such a noise in her house.
Taking no notice of the uncourteous manner in which she had addressed
me, I civilly asked her what had become of Mr. Lancaster.
"Who's Mr. Lancaster?" she said fiercely. "I know no Mr. Lancaster."
"The gentleman," I replied, "who came in here with me, and who drank
wine with me."
"I know nothing about him," said the virago; "I never saw him before."
"That's strange," said I; "he told me that he was in the habit of
frequenting this house."
"If he did so, he told you a lie," replied the lady; "and I tell you
again, that I know nothing about him, and that I never saw him before,
nor ever expect to see him again."
I now informed her that I missed a pocket-book containing a considerable
sum of money, and, simply enough, asked her if she had it, or knew
anything about it.
At this, her rage, which before she seemed to have great difficulty in
controlling, burst out in the wildest fury.
"I know nothing about your pocket-book," she exclaimed, stamping
passionately on the floor; "nor do I believe you had one. It's all a
fetch to bilk me out of my reckoning; but I'll take care of you, you
swindler! I'm not to be done that way. Come, down with the price of the
two bottles of wine you and your pal drank--fifteen shillings--or I'll
have the worth of them out of your skin." And she flourished the
candlestick in such a way as led me to expect every instant that it
would descend on my skull.
Terrified by the ferocious manner and threatening attitude of the
termagant, and beginning to feel that the getting safe out of the house
ought to be considered as a most desirable object, I told her, in the
most conciliatory manner I could assume, that I had not a farthing
beyond two or three shillings, which she was welcome to; all my money
having been in the pocket-book which I had lost--I dared not say of
which I had been robbed.
"Let's see what you have, then," she said, extending her hand to receive
the loose silver I had spoken of. I gave it to her.
"Now," she said, "troop, troop with you; walk off, walk off," motioning
me towards the outer door, "and be thankful you have got off so cheaply,
after swindling me out of my reckoning, and trying to injure the
character of my house."
But too happy at the escape permitted me, I hurried out of the house,
next down the stair--a pretty long one--at a couple of steps, and rushed
into the street.
I will not here detain the reader with any attempt at describing my
feelings on this occasion: he will readily conceive them, on taking into
account all the circumstances connected with my unhappy position. My
money gone now, there was no doubt, irretrievably; the market over, no
horse bought, the hour late, and I an entire stranger in the city,
without a penny in my pocket; my senses confused, and a mortal sickness
oppressing me, from the quantity of wine I had drunk, and which, I began
to suspect, had been drugged.
Little as I was then conversant with the ways of the town, I knew there
was but one quarter where I could apply or hope for any assistance in
the recovery of my property. This was the police office.
Thither I accordingly ran, inquiring my way as I went--for I knew not
where it was--with wild distraction in my every look and movement.
On reaching the office, I rushed breathlessly into it, and began
telling my story as promptly and connectedly as my exhaustion and
agitation would permit. My tale was patiently listened to by the two or
three men whom I found on duty in the office. When I had done, they
smiled and shook their heads; expressions which I considered as no good
augury of the recovery of my pocket-book.
One of the men--a sergeant apparently--now put some minute queries to me
regarding the personal appearance of my friend Mr. Lancaster. I gave him
the best description of that gentleman I could; but neither the sergeant
nor any of the others seemed to recognise him. They had no doubt,
however, they said, that he was a professed swindler, and in all
probability one of late importation into the city; that there was little
question that he was the person who had robbed me; adding, what was
indeed obvious enough, that he had assisted in the recovery of my
pocket-book from the first set of thieves who assailed me, that he might
secure it for himself.
The house in the Saltmarket, which I also described as well as I could,
they knew at once, saying it was one of the most infamous dens in the
city. The men now promised that they would use every exertion in their
power to recover my money, but gave me to understand that there was
little or no hope of success. The event justified their anticipations.
They could discover no trace of Lancaster; and as to the house in the
Saltmarket, there was not the slightest evidence of any connection
whatever between its mistress, or any other of its inmates, and either
the robber or the robbery. The police indeed searched the house; but of
course to no purpose.
Being, as I have already said, penniless, and thus without the means of
going anywhere else, I remained in the police office all night; and, in
the hope every hour of hearing something of my pocket-book, hung about
it all next day till towards the evening, when the sergeant, of whom I
have before spoken, came up to me as I was sauntering about the gate,
and told me that it was useless my hanging on any longer about the
office; that all would be done in my case that could be done; but that,
in the meantime, I had better go home, leaving my address; and that if
anything occurred, I would instantly be informed of it. "But I think it
but right to tell you, young man," he added, "that there is scarcely any
chance whatever of your ever recovering a sixpence of your money. I
mention this to prevent you indulging in any false hopes. It is best you
should know the worst at once."
Satisfied that the man spoke truly, and that it was indeed useless my
hanging on any longer, I gave him my name and address, and went away,
although it was with a heavy heart, and without knowing whither I should
go; for to my father's house I could not think of returning, after what
had happened. I would not have faced him for the world. In this matter,
indeed, I did my father a great injustice; for although a little severe
in temper, he was a just and reasonable man, and would most certainly
have made all allowances for what had occurred to me.
The determination--for it now amounted to that--to which I had come, not
to return home, was one, therefore, not warranted by any good reason; it
was wholly the result of one of those mad impulses which so frequently
lead youthful inexperience into error.
On leaving the vicinity of the police office, I sauntered towards the
High Street without knowing or caring whither I went. Having reached the
street just named, I proceeded downwards, still heedless of my way,
until I found myself in the Saltmarket, the scene of my late disaster.
Curiosity, or perhaps some vague, absurd idea of seeing something or
other, I could not tell what, that might lead to the recovery of my
pocket-book, induced me to look about me to see if I could discover the
tavern in which I had been robbed. I was thus employed--that is, gaping
and staring at the windows of the lower flats of the houses on either
side of the street, for I did not recollect on which was the house I
wanted--when a smart little man, dressed in a blue surtout, with a black
stock about his neck, and carrying a cane in his hand, made up to me
with a--
"Looking for any particular place, my lad?"
Taken unawares, and not choosing to enter into any explanations with a
stranger, I simply answered, "No, no."
"Because if you were," continued my new acquaintance, "I should have
been glad to have helped you. But I say, my lad--excuse me," he went on,
now looking earnestly in my face, and perceiving by my eyes that I had
been weeping, which was indeed the case--"you seem to be distressed.
What has happened you? I don't ask from any impertinent curiosity, but
from sympathy, seeing you are a stranger."
Words of kindness in the hour of distress, by whomsoever offered, at
once find their way to the heart, and open up the sluices of its pent-up
feelings. The friendly address of the stranger had this effect on me in
the present instance. I told him at once what had occurred to me.
"Bad business, my lad; bad business indeed," he said. "But don't be cast
down. Fair weather comes after foul. You'll soon make all up again."
This was commonplace enough comfort; but without minding the words, the
intention was good, and with that I was gratified.
My new friend, who had learnt from what I told him that I was penniless,
now proposed that I should take share of a bottle of ale with him.
Certain recollections of another friend, namely, Mr. Lancaster, made me
hesitate, indeed positively decline, this invitation at first; but on my
new acquaintance pressing his kindness, and the melancholy truth
occurring to me that I had now no pocket-book to lose, I yielded, and
accompanied him to a tavern at the foot of the High Street. I may add
that I was the more easily induced to this, that I was in a dreadful
state of exhaustion, having tasted nothing in the shape of either food
or drink for nearly thirty hours.
Having entered the tavern, a bottle of ale and a plate of biscuit
quickly stood before us. My entertainer filled up the glasses; when,
having presented me with one, he raised his own to his lips, wished me
"better luck," and tossed it off. I quickly followed his example, and
never before or since drank anything with so keen a relish. After we had
drunk a second glass each--
"Well, my lad," said my new acquaintance, "what do you propose doing? Do
you intend returning to the plough-tail, eh? I should hardly think
you'll venture home again after such a cursed mishap."
I at once acknowledged that I did not intend returning home again; but
as to what I should do, I did not know.
"Why, now," replied my entertainer, "I think a stout, good-looking,
likely young fellow as you are need be at no loss. There's the army. Did
you ever think of that, eh? The only thing for a lad of spirit. Smart
clothes, good living, and free quarters, with a chance of promotion.
The chance, said I? Why, I might say the certainty. Bounty too, you
young dog! A handful of golden guineas, and pretty girls to court in
every town. List, man, list," he shouted, clapping me on the shoulder,
"and your fortune's made!"