:i illlji!*: mmmi 'ill m 'IM\f '!fi|i!i!!i!i')!!i!f mm Ji THE TALES OF OLD LIVERPOOL. BY JOHN P. EIFFE LIVERPOOL; Printed and Published by Mackie &• Co., Limited, Albion Office, 55, Victoria Street. 1S86. TALES OF OLD LIVERPOOL. [FEOil THE LIVERPOOL WEEKLY " ALBIOX."] CALEB CROSSLEY'S BUTLER. BY JOnX p. EIFPE. CHAPTER I. Mr. Caleb Crossley was a wealthy man. He lived ia a style of great magniticecice at his mansion, a short distance from town; gave frequent routs and parties to his contemporary magnates and their families; kept his coach and pair and a large retinue of servants; and, ia a manner, richly merited the pseudonym which old Liverpudlians christened him — namely, Caleb Croesus. Melville House was the name by which his mansion was known, and the most important person in that establishment, after himself and family, was a Mr. George Brown, his major doino, butler, and right hand man. Brown, who hailed from somewhere in Cumberland, had wormed himself cleverly into his master's confi- dence, until he became as indispensable to him as his head cashier or managing clerk at the office. He had the entire control of everything that took place in Melville House ; the arrange- ment of balls and festivities of all kinds ; the engaging and supervision of the servants; and the personal regulation of the outlay and requirements iuiraical to the wants of such an establishment. Mr. Crossley being a widower with two grown up daughters, who took little interest in household matters, the duty devolved on Brown to fill the hiatus, and this he succeeded in doing to the fullest satisfaction. 4 It was one evening in mitlsummei, wliile the family were away spending their holirlays, that our friend, brown, took the opportunity to visit the lower parts of the establishment, where a fiiend and admirer of his, Mrs. Hujigins, the cook, was the presiding genius. She was a fresh-faced, well-iiroportioued lady of forty — very plump and good-looking, and, what is more, a widow ; S' > that he could not have selected a more agreeable companion to while away an idle hour with. The good lady may have encouraged, in her own breast, feelings deeper than ordinary admiration for the butler, although he was ten years her junior, but, if such were the case, they were so well controlled by a dis- creet and deferential manner that there was no room left fur him to suspect anything of the kind. He entered the kitchen with a somewhat conscious air of condescension, such as a prince might assume on visiting some wretched hovel, and in the blandest and must genial manner addressed the cook. "Well, and how ai-e you this evening, Mrs. Huggins ? I daresay well pleased for your short rest while the folk upstairs are away P Ah ! I am sorry to say they will soon be back ajj;ain — to-morrow or the next day at lat st ; so Crossley, at least, informs me " He always referred to his master in this familiar way when speaking before the servants. Mrs. Huggins was all of a flutter as he came in upon her unexpectedly. However, she soon pulled herself together, and assumed her best smile and most winning manner to give liim a pleasant reception. " As for rest and such like, sir," said she," I'm sure it's yourself that has more need of it. I often wonder how you can stand the worrit and upset that one in your position has to contend with. From morning till niglit you have not a moment to call your own while the family is at home, and, for the matter of that, it's about the same when tliey are away." Tliis considerate language of Ihe cook evi- dently pleased him. He smiled with conscious dignity, and acknowledged — " That it was no child's play to keep the place in order; that Crossley had his weather eye open when he gave him the post; that, by his systematic economy and vigilance, ho saved his master thousands a year; and that there was not another man in England who would plague and worrit himself as he did about another's interests." " All you say, sir, is perfectly true," remarked she, sympathetically. " I have often said the same to my friends when we happened to talk on the subject. But won't you take a little drop of something, now that you are here, sir ? — a little gin or whiskey toddy or " "If you'll allow me," said he, with a gracious bow and drawing forth his bunch of keys, " I'll take the liberty of asking you this time. Give it a name, Mrs. Huggins, and you shall have the best that Crossley's cellar contains." The cook was overwhelmed by this generous offer, and profusely poured forth her acknow- ledgments of the great honour intended her. " You are too kind, indeed, sir." protested she; "but I suppose you gentlemen are bound to have your way. If it must be so, I have no particular choice of my own ; I leave that in your hands, Mr. Brown, as who should be a better judge than yourself in these things ?" While the butler proceeded to the cellar to carry out his proposal, Mrs. Huggins took the precaution to give the maid servants some work in another part of the house, so that she and her companion could liave theiv tefe-a-fete in the kitchen without fear of interruption. It was evident to the cook that Mr. Brown was unusu- ally generous and good tempered this evening, and it was not at all unlikely that there might be something in the wind : that is to say, he might be going to talk very seriously to her. When the bottle was produced— one of the best, in fact, in Crossley's bin— they took their seats vis a vis, and indulged in a little compli- mentary talk on common-place subjects, until at length the butler suddenly changed the topic, and seemed desirous of turning the conversation into another channel. It was clearly evident to 6 his companion that he had something on his mind, and did not know how to broach it. After beating about the bush for some time, he seemed at last to screw his courage to the sticking point, and the confidence wliich he reposed in the good lady had the effect, as if by magic, of dissipating any castles in the air which she was imprudent or silly enough to have erected. "You have always been a friend of mine, Mrs. Huggins," he said, in a serious tone of voice ; " a person I can talk to as confidentially and familiarly as to my own mother. I am, therefore, going to tell you a great secret — one known only to myself and another party — and I want you to assist me by your advice and experience in a very delicate and interesting matter." The cook acknowledged as graciously as she could the; great honour conferred upon her by what his words implied, but she was, never- theless, a little troubled and uneasy at the disappointment of her first conjectures. "Women can always manage these things better than men," continued he; "especially women of a certain age — a motherly age, I mean." This was gall and wormwood to the cook, but she had too much sense to reveal her feelings. " I am in love, Mrs. Huggins ! " He blurted this out as though greatly relieved to have thus far broken the ice; "and now who do you suppose is the particular young lady I am in love with.^" "I'm sure I couldn't say, Mr. Brown," replied she, with a forced and chilly laugh of indiflerence. " Can't you guess, Mrs. Huggins ; you a per- son of experience and years ; you surely must have suspected something of the kind by this time. She has spoken to you daily; she is, I believe, a great friend of yours — a confidante, in fact?" "You don't mean Miss Edith Crossley, do you ?" said she, with killing sarcasm. He simply shook his head, and puckered his mouth with sovereign contempt in reply. •'Well then, Miss Amy Rogers, that calls here so often, and plays the piano so beautifully ?" "I thought you had a better opinion of my taste," said he, apparently hurt at this con- jecture. " But, if all accounts be true, she is very rich, and no bad match for — for " — she was going to say a butler, but supplemented the word gentle- man instead. "Mrs. H.uggins,you don't quite understand my character. I'm not one of them gents that looks for money and money only. I can appreciate as well as anyone else beauty, talents, grace, and manners — something to adorn a home, and make the hours of life pass away like a beautiful dream. Oh ! you are very dull to-night ; cannot you think of the sweetest and prettiest girl in all Liverpool ?" "You surely don't mean Miss Lillie Jackson, the governess ?" ventured the cook, opening her eyes, and staring fixedly at him. "You've hit it at last !" exclaimed he, giving his leg a terrific slap, and exhibiting unusual agitation and delight at the mere chance guess of her name. " Now, don't you admire and appreciate my taste ; is she not beautiful and good, and — and all that could be desired? " The cook did not reply just then, but was turning over in her mind something concerning another person, whose name had been men- tioned to her by Lillie Jackson herself. "Let me have your honest opinion, ma'am ?' he repeated; "I place great value on every- thing you say." "Well, I'm sure I don't know what to say," replied she ; "you're the best judge of your own aiiairs, I should think ; but Miss Jackson I hear is very poor — poor as a chvurch mouse, as they say." This was intended to be cruel and cutting, but the other did not take it so. "Don't you believe a word of that," said he ; ^'I have been over to Chester making inquiries, and I find that her mother has a good shop there, and is worth some money — all of which will be left to Lillie when the old lady dies. 8 Make no mistake, ma'am, I am not altogether asleep. I shouldn't marry for money alone, you know, but I would like to have a comfortable little sum with the girl I made my wife," " Then I suppose everything is arranged between you," observed she; "and matters have gone so far that whatever I might say would be of little consequence." " Not so fast, please, ma'am ; not so fast. It you give me your attention for a moment, I will put our present position cleai'ly before you." And, helping himself to another glass of wine, and clearing his throat, he proceeded as follows : — " Well, before the family went away for their holidays, I tried every means I could to catch Miss Jackson by herself, and explain to her the state of my feelings regarding her. Somehow or other she was never alone, or suspecting by my look and manner — for there is no knov/ing how sharp you women are (this with a waggish shake of the head) — she always managed to have some one with her. At last I saw hor entering the library one day, and seizing the opportunity I popped in unawares, and, closing the door behind me, said ' Miss Jackson, may Itspeak a few words with you^ now that we are alone. ' She looked startled at seeing me then, but without any hesitation she answered ' Well, if you don't detain me long, Mr. Brown, I will hear you, but I am very busy just now.' " She had a book in her hand, and looked oh ! so beautiful and innocent, standing there before me, that I would have given all the wealth of the world to have called her mine. I don't know what came over me, but her beauty seemed to instil a sort of courage and inspiration into me. I dropped on my knees before her, and without an effort began to pour forth all the most loving things I could think of. I declare to you, ma'am, if you were to offer me the wealth of the country I could not repeat what I then said ; it seemed to flow natur- ally from me, and without an effort to find the proper words. To show my delicacy for her feelings I closed my eyes all the time I waa 9 speaking. How long I was on my knees I could not say, but I was quickly recalled to my senses by hearing the room door closed, I opened my eyes at once, and gazed around me. Alas ! the beautiful vision had llovvn ; her maiden modesty could not support the ordeal. I blame myself for having approached the matter with such enthusiasm and warmth ; in vulgar words, ma'am. I put it on too tliick. Well, while I was still on my knees thinking, and somewhat disappointed, the room door was suddenly thrown open, and in walked Crossley in his fussy way : ' What ! at your prayers, Brown ? Pray don't disturb yourself for me. I"ll be off in a jitfy.' ' I was only picking a pin off the carpet, sir,' s;iid I, not to be taken aback; 'it's not pleasant to have them strewn about the floor while you're wearing thin slippers.' 'True, Brown, very true. I remember experiencing a most uncomfortable sensation with those same pins once. One of tlie girls left a fancy pin- cushion in my arm-chair, and I sat on it.' ' Ah, sir, those young ladies are very thoughtless.' But, Mrs. Huggins, to return to the sub- ject of my story. 1 lairl in wait for my beautiful charmer during the next few days, but do what I would there was no getting even a look from her. She purposely turned her face aside when passing me, and I could notice that she blushed deeply whenever I chanceJ to meet her in the hall. She did not look as though she was offended, or put on any of those airs which young women are in the habit of assuming towards those they despise and dislike. I also know that she did not say anything about what had happened to the Miss Crossleys, for they would have been sure to open their big mouths and grin at me, whenever they saw me. No ; I guessed how things were at a glance ; she was taken aback by my sudden declarrition of love, and only wanted a little time and gentle handling to swallow the bait. Now, Mrs. H., you have been a married woman, and know all the peculiarities of your own sex. I want you to give me your assistance in this aff dr, and use your influence to bring two loving hearts 10 together. Elderly ladies are always the best matchmakers, and young maidens will confess to them \Yhat they would not for worlds acknowledge to a male friend. May i con- sole myself by knowing that you are my friend, Mrs. H., that — that you will pop in a good word for me now and then, and use your tact to arrange little matters between us, when I can express ray love and admiration without fear of interruption. She will be back with the family to-morrow at the furthest, so we must strike the iron while it is hot. You are a great favourite with her, and can do more than anyone else to forward my cause. Give me your hand, and say that you will stand by me in this little matter." Here the amorous butler stood up, and seized his companion's reluctant hand, but, as if the fates were against them, just afc this moment one of the maid-servants entered the kitchen, and then with a little scream of alarm withdrew precipitately. The good lady was very much annoyed at this interruption, chiefly because it would be wrongly interpreted by the servants, and being a great stickler for propriety herself, it would place her in a very unenviable position as regards those who were under her. Besides, the affair would be certain to furnish matter for scandal, and very probably would reach the ears of the master and the Misses Crossley. The butler saw that she was greatly put out by what had occurred, and, to quiet her agita- tion, he whispered confidentially that the intruding hussy should be discharged next day, or his name wasn't Brown. At this juncture she was desirous of bringing the tete-it-tfte to a close, but the love-stricken butler would not hear of it until she had given him her full promise to enlist her services in his behalf. " I will not be satisfied until I have the pro- mise of your assistance, ma'am ; without your help I feel as though I can make no headway myself. Come now, take up the cudgels in my n behalf, and you'll never want a friend while George Brown lives." " Well, but, Mr. Bro^vn, I'm afraid you are misled as regards the young lady's own feelings. If she has another lover and doesn't care a jot for you, all that I can say will be of little avail." '•Another loverj and doesn't care a jot for me !" repeated he, starting back in his seat, as though the supposition were indeed a reality. *' Oh, Mrs. H., don't use those words except you wish to kill me right out. The bare idea of the thing has knocked me all of a heap, and I feel as though I had no backbone. There's a good lady, say you only meant it in fun." "But I must be plain with you, sir; she has another lover — in fact, she has promised to marry him, and that I know for certain." If the butler in his own graphic language had been denuded of his vertebral column, he could not have looked more chapfallen. His face turned deadly pale, his lower jaw dropped, and he remained silent for some moments, as if deprived of the power of speech. At length he seemed to recover himself, and in an altered tone of voice, said — '- Are you telling me the truth about another lover ? Don't drive me to despair by saying what you only suspect. You women often imagine a thing when thei-e is no real cause to do so. 'Who is the other party that you say she is going to marry ?" "I am sorry to pain you by telling you this, but I think it was JMiss Jackson's place to have ^ven you to understand that she was engaged." "Who is the other man, Mrs. H. ? Have you any objection to let me know his name?" "Oh no, there is no secrecy about the matter ; he is your own cou-in, Alfred Grice." "What! the fellow I got Crossley to take into his service for God's sake — the fellow I actually brought down from Cockermouth, and supported and paid for in Liverpool, so that he might be at hand when an opening occurred in the office. Believe me, I have done more for that young man than if he was my own brother, 12 and this is how one is repaid for doing a jjjood act. But he is in Buenos Ayres at present, and the chances are he may never come back." " I heard Miss Jackson say that he is coming home in the master's ship, Prince Rupert, and that he will sail in about a month's time." " ( h, indeed ; then they write to each other, do they? That accounts for the bulky letters which she receives so often. Aha, that's how matters stand, is it ?" Here Mr. Brown became suddenly aTisorbed in thought, in which condition he reminned for some time, while the cook fidgeted about, and conducted herself as though she had something very important to do, and was desirous to bring the interview to a close. At length, standing up from his seat and preparing to go, he observed with calm indifference, " Well, from what you say, it's very evident that I'm too late in the field. I cmu therefore depend on you saying nothing of what has occurred between us. Where no good can be done, it is just as well to let the matter drop. I must bear my disappointment as best I can, and we must all expect to meet with disappoint- ments coming through life " Mrs. Huggins expressed her deep sympathy with him, and gave the necessary promise to keep silence on what had transpired. However, when he took his departure, she had very grave doubts about his apparent resignation, and determined to keep her eye upon him, notwith- standing all he had said. CHAPTER II. Two days succeeding the interview described, Caleb Crossley and his family returned to Mel- ville House. They had enjoyed themselves immensely during their absence, and every mem- bar, not excepting the governess, Miss Jackson, was in the best of health and spirits after their fortnight's holiday. Mr. Crossley, in addition 13 to the pleasures of relaxation, had the satisfac- tion to know that everything had gone on swim- mingly during his absence. Tlie attentive major domo presented him with a great number of let- ters on his arrival ; all of which bore tidings of successful speculation, while the accounts he had received from his counting-house were equally satisfactory. "Egad, Brown," said he, tapping the butler familiarly on the shoulder, " this is the happiest day of my life. I have netted a good round sum in these last ventures of mine, and every one in my employ shall have an increase of salary. I will attend to the clerks down at the office myself, and you can look after the people here. Remind me this evening, and we will talk over the share which you must have in my good fortune." "You are very kind, sir, " said Brown, bowing in acknowledgment, " and I am heartily glad that things have gone on so well with you, but the people here are all getting good salaries at present, and — and thsy sometimes get too hot and unmanageable when you treat them over kindly; however, sir, you are the best judge." " Well, Brown, I don't like to interfere with your management, for you are a good and faith- ful servant to me, but still I should like every one about me to be a partaker in my success ; however, this can be talked over at another time. Just help me on with this coat. I want to go down to the office, and see how things are there." When the butler had done as he was birjden, and Mr. Crossley was about to depart, he tamed suddenly around, as though something had occurred to him. "By-the-bye," said Mr. Crossley, "that cousin of yours is a most invaluable servant ; he has been looking after my interests abroad better than I could have done myself. T am very grate- ful to you for recommending him to me. When he returns to Liverpool I shall give him a posi- tion deserving his ability and trustworthiness." Brown accompanied his master to the hall door with a smile of bitterness and chagrin on his face. The eulogium he had just heard 14 regarding his cousin had an opposite effect on him to that which his master intended. He experienced to the fullest extent all the envy, rage, and despair that a jealous and vindictive man can feel through the prob- able triumph of a successful rival. However, he was a man of resource and action, and was not going to throw up the sponge thus early in the game. Returning to his office in the back part of the house, he locked the door securely after him, and then produced two bulky letters, which bore the address — "Miss Jackson, Melville House, Liverpool, England." After carefully opening them, so as to remove any traces of detection, he sot about deciphering them, as well as his faulty education would permit. After considerable pains and delay, he at length succeeded in mastering the contents ; there was one particular passage which seemed to strike him with a new and happy thought, and this he read over to himself several times. To one who did not fathom his thoughts, this passage contained nothing very special. It was, as some would think, a bit of eccentricity on the part of the writer, Alfred Grice. It ran as follows: — "And now, dearest, you will be surprised at what I am going to write. I have engaged to fill an inferior position in my homeward voyage. You remember what a liking I always had for a sailor's life : I mean the duties of a sailor before the mast; some of which I know theoretically and a little practically. Well, I am going to set to on my homeward voyage and make myself proficient in all its duties. This may appear odd to you, but there is no accounting for people's tastes. The captain has consented to my wishes, and agrees to engage me as an able-bodied seaman at nominal wages. I need scarcely say that what- ever I earn shall be transmuted into a little pre- sent for the girl I love best. Now, I don't wish Mr. Crossley to know anything about this, as he might be displeased, thinking that I demeaned myself to take this post ; but in my estimation it is the proudest and most manly calling a man could follow. Of course I have finished the busi- 15 ness I was sent out here to transact, and I am at liberty to spend my idle time as best I think fit. We expect to sail on the 3rd of next month ; so that if all goes well I will be with you early in September, Tell my cousin Brown that I am doing first class, and will bring him home some- thing curious from these parts." After resealing the letters to his satisfaction. Brown returned them to the letter bag, and then proceeded with his ordinary duties, as though nothing had occuiTed. Notwithstanding this, he seemed considerably abstracted during the next few days, and did not give his instruc- tions with the same precision and intelligence he was accustomed to do. He also showed a tacit desire to avoid Miss Jackson, and when forced by circumstances to speak to her, he always did so in the briefest and most collected manner possible. What had passed between them, as far as the young lady could judge, was satisfactorily set at rest, and would cause no further annoyance or unpleasantness. No doubt, Brown was a sensible man, she thought, though sometimes like all his sex afflicted with amorous feelings, but, perceiv- ing that his suit was not accepted, he took the ^\-isest course he could by letting the matter drop. Indeed, he had risen considerably in her estimation by the alteration she noticed in his manner, and she did not fail to show him by an occasional grateful glance how highly she appre- ciated it. This, however, had the opposite effect to that desired, and only encouraged him to suppose that his suit was not entirely displeasing to her, and that, if he only succeeded in removing his rival out of the way, all would be straight sailing afterwards. In this manner some months passed away, and the time at length approached when the ship, Prince Rupert, was expected in the Mersey. It was the habit of Brown, about this time, to stroll out every other evening when nothiug special detained him in the house. In these excursions he was usually dressed in his best clothes, and sauntered carelessly towards the old town, smok- When he got as far as Pool-lane (now 16 South Castle-street) ho generally increased his pices, and took a circuitous route towards a cer- tain house, with a flag flying from one of the upper wmdovvs, in Old Strand-street. Here he stopped, and, after looking about him cautiously, approached the open door, and knocked quietly at it. After a time a tall, piratical looking fellow, known as Jack Law, made his appearance, dressed in a seedy semi-military coat and trousers, and wearing a seaman's hat. Recog- nizing Brown at once, he joined him, and then they both adjourned to an out-of-the-way public-house, wliere they remained some time in private consultation. In these visits to Old Strand-street, the major- domo was careful to let uo one see him but the individual aforesaid, and, when their interview was over, he generally returned to Melville House by proceeding for some distance in an oppo- site direction, and afterwards retracing his steps through several narrow and tortuous streets, until he got clear of the town. He also took the precaution to guard against being followed, stopping now and then in some dark alley or doorway on his route, and looking back suspiciously in the direction whence he came. Altogether, his conduct seemed very mysteri- ous and peculiar, and would have some- what astonished the confiding Caleb Crossley had he buen acquainted with it. One morning a great number of letters were delivered at Melville House, and among them a letter for Miss Jackson, the superscription of which was not unknown to Brown. He quickly seized on this, carried it to his sanctum, ami there opened and read it, as he had done several others beiore. This letter from Alfred Grice to hia sweetheart informed her that it was des- patched by a vessel sailing a fortnight before tht< Prince Rupert, and, barring accident and adverse weather, he was sure to be with her in ten or fourteen days after receiving it. The day following this. Brown drew a large instalment of salary from his master, and the same night went as usual to the rendezvous in Old Strand-street. He remained a considerable 17 time with his companion, Jack Law, and, when he returned to Melville House, he was lighter both in spirits and pocket. Scarcely a week elapsed after this when the Prince Rupert was spoken. On arriving at the dock side, she was found to be minus most of her crew, one of the missing hands being Alfred Grice. This was terrible news for poor Lillie Jackson, and she was neai'ly beside herself with grief. Caleb Crossley was also greatly upset about the matter, losing such a good and efhcient servant, without the opportunity of making him any reward for his invaluable services. The captain of the vessel was summoned to the office, and interrogated by Mr. Crossle}'. That functionary stated that his vessel was l)oarded by the Press-gang just outside the Black Rock, and that they seized on all hands, except a few old blue jackets that were barely sufficient to work the ship into port. "But," said Crossley, "'Mr. Grice was an sHgent of mine, and not a sailor ; what motive, then, could they have ia impressing him ?" "Ay, ay, Sir," replied the captain ; '* but you see Mr. Grice has been working hs way home before the mast, and a darned good seaman he made. I was opposed to his doing this at first, but he kept continually asking me as a favour to let him try his hami, so thinking that he would soon grow tired of it I gave my consent." " He was certainly at liberty to do what he liked with his own time," remarked Mr. Crossley ; " but why did you not tell those scoundrels that he was not a real blue jacket, and take proper means to prevent them seizing him ?" " Bless your heart, sir, they wouldn't care a fig for all that I said or threatened ; they have the Minister of War on their side, and carry everything with a high hand. I did tell them that I had a couple of passengers and a Mr. Grice, an agent, on board, but they paid no heed to me, only remarking among themselves that Grice was the very chap they came for. ' We have an opening for a rear-admiral,' said they, laughing, ' and that will about suit your new sailor,' " 18 " Have you the names of all the men they impressed ?" inquired Mr. Crossley. " Well, I have a list of all that are missing Sir^ but when the Press-gang's boat came alongside, it was dark at the time, and I did not see all that took place." "Well, I shall take immediate steps to have Mr. Grice released," said Mr. Crossley, standing up and bringing the interview to a close; "though the time that has elapsed may defeat all my endeavours. I hear the ship that lay in the river to receive the impressed men has gone round to the outports to distribute her cargo amongst the men of war in want of blue jackets ; if he is among thern ori board of her it may not be too late to trace him." Two days follow'ing this, a boy called at Mel- ville House with a letter for Brown. This letter was from Alfred Grice, informing the factotum that he was hiding in an untenanted house on the Cheshire side, and requesting him to send by the bearer a suit of civilian's clothes, and a little money to keep body and soul together, until he could manage to make his escape to Liverpool. He had succeeded in eluding the vigilance of the Press-gang, he said, but as they were known to be prowling about the neigh- bourhood, he was forced to keep within doors, as he was in sailor's uniform. Fortunately, the boy was thrown in his way, or he believed he should have died of starvation, not having eaten food for several days. He also implored his cousin to reassure Lillie of his safety, but to say nothing to Mr. Crossley until he returned himself, and fully explained all to him. After Brown had read the letter, he made the messenger describe the locality of the hiding-place with great minuteness ; then he dismissed him with a shil- ling, telling him that he would attend himself to what was required, and that there was no occasion to trouble any more about the matter. Late in the afternoon he left the house, and made his way to the rendezvous in Old Strand- street, after which he called at a tailor's shop, and bought a suit of ready-made clothes, and, taking the parcel under his arm, he proceeded 19 down to the river to take a boat for the Cheshke side. On landing at the other side, and following the description given by the boy, he had little difficulty in finding the hiding-place of his cousin. It was an old, dilapidated cottage standing close to the Chester-road, bat partially hidden from view by several bushes and trees that surrounded it. He approached it cautiously, but with a look of triumph and satisfaction in his face. "All is fair in love and war," said he to himself. " What can a fine young fellow do better than fight for his king and country. He is fond of a sailor's life, then let him have it with all my heart." It was now quite dark, but there was no liglit visible from the outside. He, however, managed to find the front door, and knocked quietly with his fingers. After waiting for some time without any answer, he was suddenly startled by a figure emerging from some bushes at the side, and making instantly towards him. " It is you, George ! God bless you ! I could just make out your face in the darkness. Oh, I shall never forget this kindness, but have you not always been good to me ? Come round this way, old boy, and we shall find an entrance. I make a practice of never opening the frontdoor." When they got inside, he took a lighted candle from an old pantry where he had hidden it, and let its beams fall on the bare and com- fortless apartment, and on his own face, which was pale, haggard, and pinched for want of sus- tenance. But his eyts were bright, nevertheless, and a grateful smile lighted up his anxious features. " First of all, George, tell me how Lillie is .?" "Oh, she is quite well," rephed Brown, uneasily. " Of course she was cut up when she heard you were impressed, but on the whole bore up very well." " Poor girl ! I can imagine all she must have suffered; but was she not delighted when you told her I was safe ?'' " Oh, yes, yes — certainly," replied Brown. 20 " What have you got in that parcel, old fellow — clothes? Oh, thank you, ever thoughtful, George. Please open them, while I unship these proscribed togs." It was not long before he exchanged his blue jacket costume for that of the civilian's garb, and then, making a bundle of the ca'^t-otfs, he thrust them away in an old cupboard at the end of the room. " Now, George, I am a new man," said he, looking as deUghted as a schoolboy in a new suit ; " and whom have I to thank for my liberty — my new life, I might say, but my dear, generous, kind-hearted cousin." He brushed away a tear from his eyes, and seized Brown's hand, which he pressed warmly. In the joy of the moment he had forgotten for the time the pangs of hunger, not having tasted anything in the shape of food for several days. Now, however, the great craving made itself keenly felt ; and asking Brown for a little money, he suid he knew where there was a shop some quarter of a mile distant, and would start off at once and get some bread and cheese. He would run all the way, and should not keep him waiting long. Brown was for going himself, but Grice would not hear of such a thing. He had been too kind already ; besides it was probable that he would not find the place. So saying, he took Brown's hat in his huixy, and, before the owner was aware of it, he dashed out of the house, and made off towards the shop mentioned. While Brown sat waiting in the comfortless room, he half regretted the dastardly errand upon which he had come. But he was by no means a sensitive man, and any compunctious visitings of nature which he felt were summarily repressed by the consciousness of his own self-interest and love for Lillie Jackson, After all, the object ho had in view could not be considered a great crime ; it was only a clever movement on his part to get rid of a dangerous rival. It was far more humane than to pitch him into the river, or shoot a ballet through his heart, as many fellows in his position would have done. He, however, was only doing a service when he appeared to do an injury. Alf 21 Grice would be forced to follow a pursuit for which he showed a great predilection, and who knew but that he might rise to be a great man yet, and thank him afterwards for being the mean3 of turning his career into its proper channel. He had resjlved to be there that night, so that the affair might not miscarry ; and also to leave the impression that he was aiding Grice to escape when the hawks pounced down upon their prey. As these thoughts were passing through Iiis mind, he h-ard the sound of a footsrep outside the cottage door. " He hasn't been long on his journey," said he to himself; " I thought he could scarcely have reached the shop by this time." He had scarcely uttered these words, before a tremendous crash burst upon his eais, and the front door tumbled in, burst uti' its hinges. At the same moment the back door was thrust sud- denly open, and several villanous looking fellows rushed into the room. "Ha! it is you then ?'* said he, jumping up suddenly, and running his eyes ovc-r their faces to discover Jack Law, whom he knew. " I expected you here to-night, but not s > early." "It's a pity you did not tell us the time to come," observed one of the men, with a sneer; ''we should have tried to accommodate you. Better too early than too late, however, say I. Come, since you have been expecting us, half the battle's ' iver." " Hallo there, mate," shouted another to him, " any lotion about these here premises ? Anything nouiishing in your cupboard, eh?" And going to satisfy himself on that point, he pulled out the bundle of sailor's clothes which Grice had placed there, " Better keep these by you," said he ; '' they may be of use hereafter." Brown was considerably puzzled by their rough demeanour and suspicious looks. He knew they were a determined and daredevil lot, and notorious for their want of respect for persons ; but he was uncomfortably surprised when two of them kept guard over him, while the remainder of the gang lit a lamp, and went rummaging about the rooms of the cottage. He noticed also that they all were the worse for drink, and the fumes of whiskey and rum impreg- nated the atmosphere of the place. In his transactions with Jack Law he had never seen any of these desperadoes, and therefore they were all strangers to him, " Do you — do you belong to the Press-gang ?" inquired he, looking up timidly at one of those keeping guard on him. "The Press-gang .P— No ; we belong to the Marines. Can't you see our uniforms?" This was followed by a hoarse laugh from the other, and Brown felt more and more uneasy. By this time the searching party had returned, and passing a signal to the others, the leader of the gang seized Brown suddenly by the arms, and forcing them behind his back slipped a pair of handcuffs over his wrists. "What in the name of heaven do you mean? — What are you going to do with me ?" he cried out, being now thoroughly frightened. " We are going to give you a sail in our yacht, and then introduce you to the Lord High Admiral. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Come, there will be time er\ougli to thank us when we get you out on the river." " But you have got hold of the wrong man. I begin to see it all now — you mistake me for Grice; my name is Brown." " Yes, yes, that's all right," said the leader ;^ "we have beard that yam before." " I came here to point the man out to you," said Brown; "where is Law — Jack Law; he knows all about it ; he will prove what 1 say." " yoU) and Law too, for the matter of that; we want no more of this talk, we have wasted too much time already. Come, lads, heave to, and help Mr. Brown on his way to dis- tinction." After a short struggle, in which the unfortunate major domo writhed and shrieked with all his might, he was at length hoisted on the shoulders of four of the gang, and carried feet foremost out of the cottage. "You will hang for this — all of you," he cried out helplesi-ly. "My name is George Brown — 23 I am no sailor^ and never have been one — I am head butler to Mr. Caleb Crossley, of Melville House, and have been in his employ the last twelve years. The man you want is Alfred Grice — he escaped from the Prince E-upert some days ago, and has been hiding here. 1 told Jack Law where to find him, and now you are carrying me off in mistake for him." All this made no impression on his captors ; they merely told him to shut up, and ketp his breath to cool his porridge. " If you wait for ten minutes the right man will be here," persisted he ;" he has gone to a shop yonder to buy some food. Grant me ten minutes' grace, and seize the man Grice, and I will give each of you five guineas." " Do you happen to have the coin on you, Mistar Brown ?" inquired one of them sarcasti- cally. " No, but I can get it — this very night if you wish." " Oh, curse the fellow !" blurted out the leader ; *' we have wasted too much time already. Heave ahead, men, and don't heed him ; there's another job for us before we reach our ham- mocks." Therefore, despite all his appeals, promises, shrieks, and threats, the doomed major domo was hurried across the lone and deserted space that lay between the old cottage and that part of the river where the boat of the Press-gang was moored. In the meantime Alf Grice had hurried back from the shop with all speed. Approaching the old cottage, he heard the voice of his cousin appealing to his captors, and also his own name mentioned as being the real party they came to impress. Understanding at once the character of the men inside, he was about to turn and fly from the spot, when the door was suddenly thrown open, and some of the gang came forth, followed by others carrying the shrieking Brown on their shoulders. Crouching quickly beneath an elder bush at hand, he remained concealed from view, whilst he heard all that was said between Brown and his captors. He could scarcely believe his 24 ears on hearing from the lips of his cousin the dastardly plot that had been laid to place him in the power of the dreaded Press-gang. When the coast was at length clear, and the distant cries of Brown grew fainter and fainter, he sprang from his hiding-place, and hurried away across the country in the direction of Chester. From Chester he made his way round by Warrington, and after the lapse of a week or so he arrived in Liverpool. The fate that had unexpectedly overtaken Brown, the conversation that Grice had over- heard from his hiding- phice, and the inconceiv- able reason why one cousin should have laid a trap for the impressment of the other, were clearly understood when it became known that the major domo was in love with Lillie Jackson. Calt^b Crossley was shocked at what he had heard of his favourite Brown, but at the same time he was unfeignedly grateful at the fortunate escape of Grico. He placed the latter in a res- ponsible position in his office, with sufficient remuneration to afford him the means of wed- ding his betrothed at an early date. Some weeks afterwards Brown was seen in Liverpool, but he never returned to IVlelville House. He was liberated from the Press-gang through the agency of Jack Law, and learning by accident that his plot against Grice had been discovered, he suddenly quitted the good old town, and his subsequent history is buried in oblivion. THE ENP, THE VEILED LADY. PART I. Madame Hortense Unsworth, a French Cana- dian lady, arrived in the port of Liverpool in the October of 18o7, the year of the memorable frost. She was a widow, very young and beauti- ful, and was accompanied by an only child, a little boy of about five years old. Although well- dressed and a person of superior education and manners, she was evidently in straitened circum- stances, as her scanty supply of luggage would indicate. The evening was wet and stormy when she landed, and, beiug a stranger to the town, slie inquired from one of the porters where she could get a comfortable lodging, as she did not wish to stop at a hotel. The man dii'ected her to a place in Hunter-street, then a notable lodging- house for seafaring folk, and, calling to a man who was waiting for a job, she gave him charge of her trunk and a small parcel; and told him to lead the way to the place mentioned. The house in Hunter-street whs kept by one Mrs. Mills, a stout, healthy-looking woman of the usual lodging-house type; but, though she was always willing to accommodate a male boarder, she had a natural suspicion about letting any females into her house. However, in this instance, she was favourably impressed by the appearance of the young widow and her child, and willingly gave them the use of a back room on the second floor at a moderate weekly rental. The room was but scantily furnished — a small flock bed and mattress, two cane-bottomed chairs, a round deal table, and a little strip of carpet in the centre. Nevertheless, it was very accept- able to the sad and wearied lady after her long 26 and stormy sea voyago ; and, paying a week's rent in advance, she gladly took possession of her temporary home. Lionel Unsworth, her lately deceased husband, had been an officer in the British army stationed at Montreal. He was the only son of a wealthy wine merchant in London, and had respectable prospects before him ii) tho event of his father's death; but in direct opposition to his parent's wishes, and deaf to the expostulations of his friends, he left the counting-house where he was about to be made a partner and bought himself a commission in a regiment that was then about to procesd to Canada. This, however, was not the worst. As it to add insult to injury, shortly after his arrival there, he became affianced to a poor, but beautiful, French Canadian lady, a foreigner, and thereby provoked his parent's anger and contempt to such an extent that he vowed he would never again recognize him as his son, and would leave all that he possessed for the benefit of London charitable institutions. Lionel Unsworth, the father, was a widower, and had no blood relations in the world but his son. He was a man who had worked himself, by perseverance and industry, from a humble sphere in life to the comfortable position he now occupied. He had httlo education, save that which his commercial pursuits imparted, but he was a man of iron will, and held the strictest views regarding the duties of children to their parents. About a year after the marriage of his son he sold up his business in London and re- tired to some out-of-the-way place in the country, there to pass the remainder of his days in peace and solitude. JS'ot long after this a rumour went abroad that he had died, and that, in accordance with his tlire it, all his wealth was bequeathed to London hospitals, and other institutions. This rumour had never reiiched the ears of his son, and, as all correspondence between him and his father had ceased, there were no means at hand of learning the true position of afl'airs at home. He was too well acquainted with his father's character to attempt any immediate means of reconciliation, but determined waiting until time 27 might have softened his anger and the course of events afforded him a plausible opportunity of doing so. If he could succeed in performing soma great military act that should refloct credit on his name and honour in his country, then would be the time to approach his parent and solicit forgiveness and reconciliation. In his great desiie to accomplish this, Lionel was ever foremost in offering his services whenever any hazardous or dangerous duty was to be executed. About this time there was considerable trouble occasioned by some of the Indian tribes, and Lionel was commissioned to take the command of a company of his own regiment and assist in the dispersion of a large and warliice tribe that was committing murder and havoc among some of the early settlers. In this expedition he un- fortunately lost his life ; and, as he had no other means but that arising from his pay in the army, his wif,-, in consequence, waa left almost destitute. Owing to his reticence about matters at home, she was wholly ignorant of the estrangement be- tween him and his parent. When taking his departure, however, on the fatal expedition, he gave her the address of his father in London, and also that of the solicitors who acted for him. This was the only clue she had as to his rela- tions in England, but, being very young and ignorant of the ways of the world, she thought it sufficient for the purpose she had in view. When she had been about a month in the lodgings in Hunter-street, her slender means became almost exhausted, and she did not know where to turn for the support of herself and child. She had written repeatedly to the address in London, but to all her letters no answer was returned. She did not know anyone to whom to apply for advice, and, being of a shy and retiring disposition, was averse to let the circumstances of her poverty be known. No matter how she pinched and economized in her expenditure, she was always compelled to find the money to pay rent or face the alterna- tive of being turned out on the shelterless streets. For days she had to content herself with one 28 meal, so as to find a sufficiency, however plain, for her darling boy, who was now the only one she had to love and cherish in the world. At length she grew so pale and thin that the landlady, remarking it, brought her up a basin of hot soup to nouiish her. This happened to be the first mouthful of good food slie had tasted for several days, but even so she divided it with her little boy, though she had always managed to shield him from the cravings of hunger. On many occasions the little fellow caught her weeping bitterly, and in reply to his childish enquiries she always answered that she was thinking of his father. One day, when all her means were exhausted, her trinkets and clothes all pledged, and no food of any kind in the house, she went forth into the busy streets, her brain almost bursting to madness and a sense of hopeless despair at her heart. What whs she to do.P Where was she to turn in her terrible extremity ? She wandered up and dovvn the streets in a dull, listless, manner, looking now and then at the bakers' and butchers' shops, the sleek and comfortable people entering and leaving them, the crowds of affluent and well-dressed folks passing to and fro, the wagons and carts laden with provisions and comforts of all kinds, and she, without a farthing in the world wherewith to purchase a morsel of bread. She could struggle against her own hunger and suiierings, but she could not bear to think that the young life of her child should experience the pangs of starvation — should cry in vain for food. Oh ! the thought was maddening — horrible ! If she were but back again in Canada the few friends she had there would at least save her poor darling from starva- tion. But things liad come to the worst now, and something must be done. What was that something that gradually took, form in her mind — that only outlook in her distraction and extremity. Alas ! it was the cruellest blow that fate could inflict on a high and sensitive nature ; she would have to stand on the highway and hold out her hand to the passers-by for alms ! However, as she was passing a certain 29 butcher's shop in Scotland-road, a stout, florid looking man, standing in the doorway, was suddenly struck by her strauge look and pale f ice. *' Hi! missus ! come here; I want to speak to you," stidhe, beckoning her towards him. She stopped, and approached him as requested. " I say, missus, you look vei'y white — are you ill? " he interrogated. She helil her head down and blushed, and although she intended telling him the truth, the words seemed to stick in her throat. " Come, come, let's know wjiat's to do wi'you ; don't be ashamed of me, I'm ould enough to be your fayther." But the only reply she could make was to burst into tears. " God bless my soul, lass, you are hungry ! I can see it in your face, and you're ashamed lolke to own to it," said the good hearted butcher. " Here, take this," and he slipped a shilling into her hand. " Go and get tlieeself sumat to eat, and call round and see me later on." With a deep blush of shame, though a heart overflowing with gratitude, she accepted the protfere 1 coin, and then hurried off to her lodgings, after purchasing what bread and other nourishment she could on the way. " God never leaves the poor entirely destitute," she murmured to herself. " This good man has been the means of saving two lives by his charity — God bless him for it." That night, after her further interview with the butcher, slie was undisguisedly happy and hopeful. She had told him her circumstances, as far as it was necessary, and that she only wanted employment of some kind to support herself and her child. The good man promised to use his influence to get her some needlework, and in the meantime gave her some slops and shirts to make for himself. For some time after this she continued to earn sufficient to keep the wolf from the door, though she had oftentimes to sit up all night working by candle light. It was late in the January of the new year when the severe frost which set in in January and continued until March was at 30 its height. She had a large number of shirts to make by a certain time for a house in Lord- street, and to manage this she had to deprive her.^elf of several nights' sleep only snatching a few moments at meal times to rest her wearied eyes and fingers. At last she had completed her task, and, making the shirts into a parcel to carry to the shop, she kissed her little son affec- tionately, promising to be back soon, and bring him bon bons ;ind something nice for tea. ^^ hen she left the house on her errand, there was a dense fog enveloping the good old town. She hurried along Byrom-street and White- chapel, in the direction of a large drapery es- tablishment in Lord-street. All the lamps and shop windows were ali^^ht, and the foot pas- sei.gers and vehicles had to move cautiously on their way on account of the severe frost and thick fog. Notwithstanding this, she hurried along as fast as she could, for she was anxious to reach her destination in time and get some money, the larder being entirely empty ; and, besides, there were a few articles of clothing which she wished to redeem that night. She was so occupied with her thoughts, besides being somewhat stupid and lightheaded from want of proper rest, that when she reached the junction of Whitechapel and Lord-street she dill not hesitate before crossing the street, but, thoughtless of danger, hurried on her way. The next instant a cab driven at considerable speed rushed upon her, and, before the driver conld succeed in pulling it up, both horse and vehicle p. ssed over her body. This happened in less time than it takes to desci'ibe it, and owing to the density of the fog could only be indistinctly seen by those who were a few yards off. How- ever, the sudden scream she gave utterance to soon apprised them of what had occurred, and a great shout of alarm from the people around quickly brought an immense crowd to the spot. The driver responsible for the accident managed to get clear away under cover of the fog, and the policeman arriving too late upon the scene, no clue was left to establish his identity. The immense crowd that had gathered around 31 could only discover a dark object with a white girlish face lying huddled in a lieap without any sign of life or movement. Mr. Hardman, a then well-known townsman, happened to be near the spot at the time, and, elbowing his way through the densely packed crowd, at length with the assistance of a policeman, lifted the un- fortunate lady to a recumbent position. He was greatly shocked at what had happened, and looked down at the crushed piece of humanity with inexpressible sadness and concern. There was something in the pallid worn face so triste and saintlike— in the thick masses of raven hair that hung loosely about her— and in the thread- bare clothes, which, nevertheless, were of costly fabric, that made a powerful impression upon him. Turning to the crowd of startled faces about him, he inquired anxiously if there was anyone who knew lier, but not a person there gave an affirmative reply. She was a perfect stranger. At length a cab was hailed, and the poor inert fragile form, was placed tenderly in it and taken away to the Royal Infirmary. Mr. Hardman accompanied the policeman to that institution for the purpose of hearing the result of the surgeon's examination, and also to see if there were any papers on her by which he could communicate with her friends. On their arrival at the infirmary, the poor victim was still unconscious, and to all appear- ance dead ; and the doctors gave very little hope of any favourable result. H er uockets were searched for papers or anything that could throw light on her name or residence, but the only writing they found was the address of the solicitors in London, and an affectionate letter from a female friend in Canada, which had been written while she was yet living in that country. Mr. Hardman took a note of both these addresses, and left the building with a sad and heavy heart as to the probable fate of the unfortunate lady. Next day he was obliged to sail for America, other- wise he would have exerted himself to the utmost to find out her friends, but, as it was, on his return home that night he wrote a letter to 32 the solicitors mentioned, informing them of what had occurred and begging them to acquaint her friends at once. That evening tlie parcel of sViirts was picked up close to the [)lace of the accident, and from the name on the paper wrapper enclosing them its finder was enabled to dehver them to the rightful owner. A short time after this, a gentleman called at Mrs. Mills' house, and told her, that her late lady lodger was very ill, and had instructed him to call and take her little boy to where she was. He paid the landlady for any claims she had against her late lodger and then departed, taking little Lionel along with him. Save a short paragraph in one of the papers, all the circumstances of the afi'dr were forgotten in the course of the next few days, and the busy folk of the good old town proceeded on their customary ways without giving any further attention to the sad occurrence. PART II. Five yenrs had passed away, and Liverpool continued to make prodigious strides in popu- lation, commercial progress, and architectural additions. The populous suburbs which now surround us were separated by pleasant fields and trim gardens, but the centre of the borough proper was as busy with traffic and crowds of eager people as it is at the present time. About tliis period theie was a mysterious lady dressed in deep black and closely veiled who used regularly to frequent the most crowded thoroughfares. She was always to be seen alone, and seemed a perfect stranger to all the in- habitants. If you watched her movements, you would see that she pa-sed on to the end of one street, and then, crossing over, r^-turned along the opposifeside. She did not appear to pay any atteuti