"Co-o-o-o-me orn," said Cabby, as we sat by his side on the
box--"Co-o-o-me orn. Nice sorter day this here, sir. Thanky, sir; I do
draw a bit, and never sez `no' to a cigar. Arter you with the light,
sir. `Queer fares,' sir? Ah! I gets some queer sorter fares
sometimes--rum 'uns. All sorts and sizes, as the sayin' is. Taking a
poor gal to Bedlam ain't pleasant--they do screech so. Blest if I
couldn't ha' pitched into the keeper sometimes when I've heerd the poor
creetur crying out as she wasn't mad, and beggin' and praying of him to
let her go. It all seems agin natur, 'ticklar when a fellow's a bit
soft-like. It's now a year come Martlemas as one night a flunkey comes
up to the stand and picks me out, and werry glad I was, for I'd had a
awful bad day. I used to drive a mare then as I called `Bagged Sal,'
cos of her tail; for she hadn't got no tail--leastwise, none to speak
on. She'd been a 'tillery 'oss out in the Crimee--one of them as stood
in the front rank and got all the hair nibbled off, and the roots gnawed
so as to spile the cemetery for the future. But she could go, she
could, and get over the ground differun to this. Coome orn, will yer;
that ain't nothing! That's one of her games, sir. She pulls up short
every now and then, if I ain't watchin' her, jest as if she wanted to
pick up suthin' in the road. Well, sir, as I was a-saying, flunkey
seems to know a horse as could go, or else he wouldn't ha' choosed mine,
for she worn't at all ansum as you may suppose, besides bein' a
wherritty beast, allus twitchin' her stump of a tail outer the crupper,
and laying her ears back and biting. Flunkey hails me, and I pulls
outer the rank and picks him up.
"`Drive to Cavendish Square,' sez he.
"Now, he wasn't a reg'lar thoroughbred flunkey, all white gloves,
stockings and powder, with a long cane and crestys on his buttons, but
one o' yer pepper-an'-salt doctor's men, all white choker and cheek, and
not arf so affable as a real footman. He was one of them chaps as keeps
the patients waiting in the back parly till they tips him, and then he
finds out all of a sudden as the doctor ain't engaged. Lord, sir, I've
waited hours in Saville-Row for poor innercent creeturs as didn't know
the wally of a trifle, and so spent a hextry five shillings in cab fare.
"`Drive to Cavendish Square,' sez he, as big as yer please and then he
begins a-whistling, and a-staring at all the gals as we passes. My lord
hadn't a word to say to me, yer know, being only a kebby, and not up to
his social spear in society; but I begins to pump him a little--movin'
the handle quite gentle like at first, for he wouldn't suck a bit; but
bimeby I works him round, and out flows such a bright stream of
eloquence, and he begins to tell me where we was a-going to and who we
was a-going to take; and then I finds as it was a young lady to a
private asylum, for she was allus a-trying to kill herself, and all
through love.
"Well, we pulls up at a door with a werry large brass plate, and the
doctor's name on it in big letters, and there I waited for half an hour;
when the door opens and I hears a screech as goes through me like a
knife, and then they carries out a young gal with a face a'most like an
angel, only all drawed and frightened looking.
"The poor thing stares quite wild, first this way and then that way;
calls out `Hernest--Hernest--help!' and skreeked again as they pulled up
the glasses of the keb, and then Pepper-and-salt jumps up alongside me,
as it might be you, sir, and `Drive on fast,' he says, `along
'Ammersmith Road to Chiswick'--through Kensington, you know.
"Now, you know, sir, I'm blest if I know how I drove that arternoon.
You see, sir, one gets knocked about here, and shoved there, and goes
through lots o' strange things to get a living; but I can't help
thinking as we're all on us, gentle and simple, made alike, and outer
the same stuff. Some on us, too, gets more than our share o' temper,
and softness, and fust one thing, and then another, and you see that's
how it is with me. I'm a rum-looking cove to look at, reg'lar rough
one, you know, but then I've got a lot o' softness stowed away about my
heart as I ain't no business with. Now I just ask you now, sir, as a
fair judge, what business has a kebman with softness? It ain't natural.
Be as rough as you like, I says, but none o' that. And yet my stoopid
old woman at home she likes it, and says it's natur. P'rhaps it is, and
p'rhaps it ain't. But then, you see, we don't live in a state of natur
now. Quartern loaves, pots o' porter, and Dutch cheeses don't grow on
the hedges; and people has to look out precious sharp for enough to fill
out their weskits, and I've known the time when mine's been precious
slack about the buttons. 'Pon my soul, sir--beggin' your pardon for
being a bit strong--you upper crusters ain't no idea what shifts we're
put to sometimes for a living, and what hard work it is. I ain't a
grumbling, for only having the missus, and no children, things ain't so
hard as they might be. We gets along right enough, for the wife can
scheme wonderfully, and toss you up a sixpenny dinner as would surprise
yer. She's up to a thing or two, an' can go to first-class butchers and
get her threepen'orth o' pieces--topping meat, you know; twopen'orth o'
taters and some carrots and turnips; and, Lor' bless you, you'd be
surprised as I said afore. Did yer ever go down Leather Lane, sir, or
past the Brill at Somers Town, or some parts of Clare and Newport
Markets? Perhaps you didn't. But jest you wait for a stinging hot day,
and then go and see what the poor folks is a buying of; and then don't
you wonder no more about fevers, and choleras, and all them sort o'
troubles. There ain't no wonder in the gin palaces going ahead, when so
many poor creeturs flies to 'em to drown their sorrows. It's this
sorter thing as cheers me up; and makes me say a moral bit as I
learnt--`A contented mind's a continual feast,' I says to the wife; and
really, sir, if you'll believe me, sooner than I'd live as some of our
poor things does I'd try and peg on along with my old mare here. We'd
make a subdivision: she should have the chaff, and I'd go in for the
oats and beans.
"Now, where had I got to? Oh! I know, sir--about that there poor gal.
I don't know how I drove down that day for softness. It did seem so
sad, so pitiful for that fine young creetur to be dragged off in that
way. I quite hated mysen, for it was as though I was to do with it, and
it was my fault; and at last, when we'd got up to that place where the
chap used to hatch his young cocks and hens by steam--Cantelo, I think
he called hisself--Pepper-and-Salt says, `Turn down here,' and I turned
down, and mighty glad I was when we got to the big old house, where they
took the poor girl in, and I thinks to myself, `Ah! next time as you
comes out, my lass, I'm afraid as it will be screwed down, and with the
black welwet a hanging over you!'
"I got werry good pay for that job; but somehow it did not seem to lit,
for the soft feeling as I told you of. Every bit o' money seemed
gritty, and I felt gritty, and as I drove Pepper-and-Salt back it was me
as wouldn't talk.
"I bought a haddick and took home to the old ooman for supper, and I
toasted it myself, so as it shouldn't be burnt; and then we had a pint
o' porter made hot, with some ginger and sugar in it; and as I was
a-smoking my pipe and watching the haddick, I tells Betsy all about it.
But, p'raps you mightn't believe it, we didn't enjoy that supper: I felt
kinder lonesome like, and I see a big drop go off the missus's nose more
than once into the porter mug, as she sat a-rocking herself backwards
and forwards.
"Ah! there's some rum games a-going on in this here world, sir!"
We jogged on in silence for some little time, when "Hi!" roared Cabby at
an old lady crossing the road--producing the excellent effect of making
her stand still in the middle.
"I know some o' them old women 'll be the death o' me some day," said
Cabby. "They allus waits till a keb's a-coming afore they cross the
road, and then when they gets knocked down there's a fuss and a inquest,
and a reglar bother, of course.
"Did you ever see one o' them patent kebs as come up about
five-and-twenty years ago?--I mean them with a door opening behind, and
a box up in front for the driver. Niste things they was for swindling a
poor cove out of his hard-earned suffrins. More nor wunst I've had
people a-slipping out without stopping on me, and, of course, when I
pulls up, if the keb wasn't empty. Begging of your pardon, sir, it was
enough to make a saint swear.
"Coome orn, will yer? Arter you, sir, with the light agen; talking
let's one's weed out more nor anything. Rum fellows them sailors, sir;
there goes two with the name of their ship on their hats, like dogs with
their master's name on their collar. Rum dogs, too--British bulldogs.
They ain't no notion at all o' what money's worth; they seem to fancy as
it's only meant to spend--never thinks a bit about saving of it. I took
one up wunst at London Bridge, and I opens the door for him, and touches
my hat quite civil, for I allus does that to a fare, whosumever he be.
Mighty pleased he seemed, too, for he pulls out a tanner--what you calls
a tizzy, you know, sir--and he hands it over, and he says--
"`Give's hold o' the rudder-lines, mate, and fetch a glass o' grog to
drink afore sailing.' And then he gets hold of the reins, and I fetches
a glass of rum-and-water, and we drinks it fair atween us; and when I
holds the door open agen, he pitches his bundle inside. `Clap on the
hatches,' he says, and he bangs to the door, and then, while I was
a-staring, up he goes, and put hisself plop atop o' the roof, for all
the world like a tailor, and there he began a-chewing his bacca.
`Deck's clear, mate,' he says, `clap on sail;' and away we goes along
Cheapside, and the boys a-cheering and hooraying like all that.
"We hadn't gone werry far before he 'ails me to stop, and then we has
another glass o' rum-and-water. And so we goes on and on, making no end
o' calls, till at last we must both have been in a werry reprehensible
state, sir; for all I remembers is waking up at four o'clock in the
morning in our mews, with the horse's head as far into the stable as he
could get it, and the sailor a-sitting fast asleep on the t'other
cushion inside the keb just opposite to me. But then, you see, sailors
is such rum chaps!
"Law, sir, it's wonderful the dodges as I've seen in my time. People's
beginning to find out as there's some romance in a keb now, since that
chap pisoned his wife and two children in one of our wehicles `licensed
to carry four persons'--and then went and did for hissen. He was a bad
'un, reg'lar. I wunst had a case of that sort myself. I remember it as
well as if it was only yesterday, and it's many a year ago now. That
was a night, surety--all rain and sleet mixed up, and the roads churned
into a pudge--City batter, I calls it. I was on night-work, a-sitting
on my box, driving about anyveres, noveres like, for it was too cold for
the hoss to stand still. P'raps I shouldn't ha' got him on again, for
he'd ha' turned stiff. I'd been a-growling to myself like that I should
have to be out on such a night, and was then twisting of an old red
'ankercher round the brim o' my hat, to keep the rain from running down,
when a street door opens, and a woman comes running out with a man arter
her.
"`Come in,' he says, a-trying to drag her back; but she hangs away,
calling out `Help!' and says suthin' about `willain,' and `baseness,'
and `never.' I couldn't 'ear all she says 'acause of the wind, though I
pulls up short in front of the house: a large one it was, with a light
in the hall, and I could see as the man was quite a swell, in a bobtail
coat and open wesket--same as they wears to go to the Hoprer. Well,
when she acts like that he makes no more ado but fetches her a wipe
across the mouth with his hand, quite savage--I mean hits her--and then
runs in and bangs the door arter him, leaving that poor thing out in the
bitter night, in a low dress, and without a bit of bonnet.
"She gives a sort of ketch or sob like, and then says to me, in an
ordering sorter way--
"`Open the door, man!'
"I jumps down in a minute, and she gets in and tells me to drive to a
street near Eaton Square. So I shuts the door and drives off, wondering
what it all meant, and feeling uncommonly as if I should have liked to
give that feller one for hisself, for it was a thing I never could bear
to see, any one strike a woman.
"Well, we gets to the street, and then I turns round to arst her the
number, when just as we passed a lamp-post I could see in at the window
as she was down on the floor. You might have knocked me off the box
with a wisp.
"I pulls short up, jumps down, and opens the door; and there she was
with her hair down, and all of a heap like at the bottom of the keb.
The light shined well in, and as I lifted her on to the seat I could see
as she was young, and good-looking, and well dressed, and with a thick
gold chain round her neck.
"Just then up comes a p'leeceman, as big as you please, and `What's up?'
he says. `Why, she's fainted,' I says.
"`Looks suspicious,' he says, a-hying me sideways.
"`P'raps it does,' I says, for I began to feel nasty at his aggrawating
suspicions. Howsomever, I tells him then where I'd picked her lip, and
all the rest of it, and he looked 'nation knowing for a minute, and then
he says--
"`Jump up and drive to the nearest doctor's; and I'll get in and hold
her up.' `But what's this here?' he says, laying hold of her hand--such
a little white 'un, with rings on, and with the fingers tight round a
little bottle. `Drive on,' he shouts, quite fierce, an' I bangs to the
door, and forgot all about the wet.
"I soon comes across one o' them red brandy balls a-sticking in a lamp,
and I says to myself, `That's English for salts and senny,' I says; and
then I pulls up, ketches hold of surgery and night bell, and drags away
like fun.
"Then the door was opened, and we carried her in--no weight, bless you--
and lays her on the sofy. Doctor comes in his dressing-gown, takes hold
of her hand, holds it a minute, and then lets it fall again. Then he
holds his watch-case to her mouth, and you could hear the thing go
`tic-tic' quite loud, for there wasn't another sound in the room; and
then he lifts up one of her eyelids, and you could see her great black
eye a-staring all wild and awful like, as if she was seeing something in
the other world. Then all at once she gave a sort of shivering sigh,
and I could see that it was all over.
"Doctor takes the bottle from the p'leeceman, smells it, shakes his
head, and gives it back again. Then they two has a talk together, and
it ends in us lifting the poor thing back into the keb, and me driving
back to where we started from; p'leeceman taking care to ride on the box
this time. And what a set out there was when we got there! Fust comes
the suvvant, after we'd been ringing a'most half an hour. She looked as
if just shook out of bed; and there she stood, with her eyes half-shut,
a-shiverin' and starin', with the door-chain up. As soon as we made her
understand what was the matter, off she cuts; and then down comes the
swell in his dressen-gownd. Fust he runs out and looks in the keb; then
he rushes upstairs again; then there was a dreadful skreeching, and a
lady comes a-tearing down in her night-gownd, and with her hair all
a-flying. We'd carried the poor thing into the hall then, and she
throws herself on her, shrieking out, `I've killed her! I've killed
her!' kissing her frantic-like all the time. The swell had come down
after her, looking as white as a sheet; and he gets the lady away, while
p'leeceman and me carries my fare into a bedroom.
"P'leeceman took my number, and where I lived; and swell comes and gives
me two half-crowns; and then I took off and left 'em, feeling quite sick
and upset, and glad enough to get away.
"There was an inquest after, of course, and I had to go and give
evidence; but somehow or other precious little came out, for they kep it
all as snug as they could, and the jury brought it in `Temporary
Insanity.'
"Pull up here, sir? Yes, sir. _Star_ office, sir? Phew! didn't know
as you was in the noosepaper way, sir, or shouldn't have opened my mouth
so wide. Eighteenpens, sir; thanky, sir."
"Co-o-o-me orn, will yer?" were the words which faded away in the
Fleet-street roar.