"Suppose yer think that there _sou_," (fancy the stump of a clay pipe
speaking French!) "is gone for good, and good riddance, do yer? You
wait a bit, that's all."
"Boh, boh!" chimed in the string. "Do you hear, Turnip? Wait till you
see the soldier; then see how you'll laugh!"
"What soldier?" I inquired, my curiosity for a moment getting the
better of my reserve. I could not imagine what possible connexion there
could be between the military and the disreputable copper I had so
lately seen depart.
I was not long in suspense, however, for before my two vulgar companions
could answer my question, the "soldier" made his appearance.
The dirty little hand again entered our quarters, and let fall in our
midst a red herring! At the sight and smell of him I turned sick with
disgust. Fancy a silver watch sat upon, squeezed, and besmeared by a
reeking red herring. He came sprawling right on the top of me, the
brute, his ugly mouth wide open and his loathsome fins scraping along my
back. Ugh!
"That there's the soldier, Turnip; ain't it, mate?" called out the pipe.
"Do you hear, Turnip? this here's the soldier. How do you like him?"
snuffled the string.
It was enough! I felt my nerves collapse, and my circulation fail, and
for the remainder of that dreadful night I was speechless.
I was not, however, blind, or so far gone as to be unable to notice in a
vague sort of way what happened.
The young gentleman rejoicing in the name of Cadger (but whose real
cognomen I subsequently ascertained to be Stumpy Walker) proceeded on
his walk, whistling shrilly to himself, exchanging a passing recognition
with one and another loafer, and going out of his way to kick every boy
he saw smaller than himself, which last exertion, by the way, at twelve
o'clock at night he did not find very often necessary.
I observed that he did not go out of his way to avoid the police; on the
contrary, he made a point of touching his hat to every guardian of the
peace he happened to meet, and actually went so far as to inform one
that "he'd want his muckintogs before morning"--a poetical way of
prophesying rain.
He proceeded down a succession of back streets, which it would have
puzzled a stranger to remember, till he came into a large deserted
thoroughfare which was undergoing a complete renovation of its drainage
arrangements. All along the side of the road extended an array of huge
new pipes, some three feet in diameter, awaiting their turn underground.
Into one of these Master Walker dived, and as it was just tall enough
to allow of his sitting upright in its interior, and just long enough to
allow his small person to lie at full length without either extremity
protruding; and further, as the rain was just beginning to come down, I
could not forbear, even in the midst of my misery, admiring his
selection of a lodging.
Greatly to my relief, the "soldier," the crust, and the pipe were all
three presently summoned from the pocket, and with the help of the first
two and the consolation of the last, Master Walker contrived to make an
evening meal which at least afforded _him_ satisfaction.
Before making himself snug for the night he pulled me out, and by the
aid of the feeble light of a neighbouring lamp-post, made a hasty
examination of my exterior and interior. Having apparently satisfied
himself as to my value, he put me and the pipe back into his dreadful
pocket, from which, even yet, the fumes of the "soldier" had not faded,
and then curled himself up like a dormouse and composed himself to
slumber.
He had not, however, settled himself many moments before another ragged
figure came crawling down the inside of the pipes towards him. Stumpy
started up at the first sound in a scared sort of way, but instantly
resumed his composure on seeing who the intruder was.
"What cheer, Stumpy?" said the latter.
"What cheer, Tuppeny?" replied my master. "Where've yer been to?"
"Lunnon Bridge," replied Mr Tuppeny.
"An' what 'ave yer got?" asked Stumpy.
"Only a rag," said the other, in evident disgusts producing a white
handkerchief.
"That ain't much; I've boned a turnip."
"Jus' your luck. Let's 'ave a look at him."
Stumpy complied, and his comrade, lighting a match, surveyed me with
evident complacency.
"Jus' your luck," said he again. "Where did yer git 'im?"
"At the gaff, off a young cove as was reg'lar screwed up. I could 'ave
took 'is nose off if I'd a wanted it, and he wouldn't have knowed."
"Then this 'ere rag might 'a been some use," replied the disconsolate
Tuppeny. "'Tain't worth three'a'pence."
"Any marks?" inquired my master.
"Yees; there is so. C.N. it is; hup in one corner. He was sticking out
of the pocket of a young chap as was going along with a face as long as
a fooneral, and as miserable-lookin' as if 'e'd swallowed a cat."
C.N.! Could this handkerchief possibly have belonged to poor Charlie
Newcome? His way home from Grime Street I knew would lead by London
Bridge, and with the trouble of that afternoon upon him, would he not
indeed have looked as miserable as the thief described?
And these two boys, having thus briefly compared notes, and exhibited to
one another their ill-gotten gains, curled themselves up and fell fast
asleep.
Dear reader, does it ever occur to your mind that there are hundreds of
such vagrants in this great city? Night after night they crowd under
railway arches and sheds, on doorsteps and in cellars. They have
neither home nor friend. To many of them the thieves' life is their
natural calling; they live as animals live, and hope only as animals
hope, and when they die, die as animals die; ignorant of God, ignorant
of good, ignorant of their own souls. Yet even for such as they, Christ
died, and the Spirit strives.
The pipe, and his friend, the string, that night had a long conversation
as their master lay asleep. They evidently thought I was asleep too,
for they made no effort to conceal their voices, and I consequently
heard every word.
It chiefly had reference to me, and was in the main satirical.
"Some coves is uncommon proud o' themselves, mate, ain't they?--
particular them as ain't much account after all?"
"You're right, mate. Do you hear, Turnip? you ain't much account;
you're on'y silver-plate, yer know, so you don't ought to be proud, you
don't!"
"What I say," continued the pipe, "is that coves as gives 'emselves
hairs above their stations is a miserable lot. What do _you_ think?"
"What don't I?" snuffled the string. "Do you hear, Turnip? you're a
miserable cove, you are. Why can't you be 'appy like me and my mate?
We don't give ourselves hairs; that's why we're 'appy."
"And, arter all," pursued the pipe, "that's the sort of coves as go
second-hand in the end. People 'ud think better on 'em if they didn't
think such a lot of theirselves; wouldn't they now, mate?"
"Wouldn't they just! What do you think of that, Turnip? You're on'y a
second-hand turnip, now, and that's all along of being stuck-up and
thinking such a lot of yourself! You won't go off for thirty bob, you
won't see!"
"Mate!" exclaimed the pipe, presently (after I had had leisure to
meditate on the foregoing philosophical dialogue), "mate, I'll give you
a riddle!"
"Go it!" said the mate.
"Why," asked the pipe, in a solemn voice, "is a second-hand pewter-
plate, stuck-up turnip, like a weskit that ain't paid for?"
"Do you hear, Turnip? Why are you like a weskit that ain't paid for?
Do yer give it up? I do."
"'Cos it's on tick!" pronounced the pipe.
I could have howled to find myself the victim of such a low, villainous
joke, that had not even the pretence of wit, and I could have cried to
see how that greasy string wriggled and snuffled at my expense.
"My eye, mate! that's a good 'un! Do you hear, Turnip? you're on tick,
you know, like the weskit. Oh, my eye! that'll do, mate; another o'
them will kill me. Oh, turn it up! do you hear? On tick!-- hoo, hoo,
hoo! Do you hear, Turnip? _tick_!"
Need I say I spent a sad and sleepless night? When my disgust admitted
of thought I could not help reflecting how very happy some vulgar people
can be with a very little sense, and how very unhappy other people who
flatter themselves they are very clever and superior can at times find
themselves.
By the time I had satisfied myself of this my master uncurled himself
and got up.