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I, Txi I) N : 
 PHAH & HALL 193 
 
s*. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD 
 
 OK 
 
 THE ROMANCE AND REALITY OF THE 
 LONDON STREETS. 
 
 &n eanfas&tonable MobtV, 
 
 By AUGUSTUS MAYHEW 
 
 (ONE OF THE BROTHERS MAYHEW). 
 
 » 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. K. BROWNE. 
 
 LONDON : 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1858. 
 

 ><9cV 
 
 MY BEOTHEE, 
 
 HORACE MATHEW, 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 IS, WITH SINCERE AITECTION, 
 
 DEDICATED. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It has often struck me that if a truthful account were written of 
 the miseries of criminal life, it would, by destroying the fancied ro- 
 mance of wickedness, have a quicker effect in checking juvenile de- 
 pravity than any moral appeals that ootid be made to the under- 
 standings of the evil-disposed. 
 
 Crime has now become a trade. Cunning is the only capital 
 needed. The youths who take to this desperate calling are of such a 
 nature that they are beyond a sense of danger. They would carve 
 their names on gallows-wood as calmly as an Eton boy disfigures his 
 desk. They are insensible to the fear of the law. 
 
 Of course, crime means — unrestrained selfishness, or, in other 
 words, the gratification of desires, regardless of the misery the indul- 
 gence may inflict on others. There are many of the leaden-souled 
 who, if crime were treated as a business speculation, — if the chances 
 of profit and loss were as thoroughly weighed as when a merchant 
 studies his ventures, — might be impressed with the folly of the risk, 
 and, swayed by their selfishness, take to honesty as the better policy. 
 As I have said, these wicked of the world have no fear of the law, but 
 they have a full appreciation of personal advantages. Prove to them 
 that the rewards of virtue are by one penny higher than those of vice, 
 and they will, with marvellous rapidity, alter their courses. If they 
 are once coaxed into this passive honesty, the schoolmaster may, with 
 good prospects of success, commence his work. 
 
 Of one thing I may humbly make a boast — the extreme truthfulness 
 with which this book has been written. The descriptions of boy-life in 
 the streets, the habits and customs of donkey-drivers, the peculiarities 
 of tramp-dom and vagrancy, have all resulted from long and patient 
 inquiries among the individuals themselves. They are actual records 
 of the earnings and condition of these peculiar classes among the un- 
 civilised of London. Indeed, some portions of this book (such as 
 the chapters on the " Crossing-sweepers" and the " Eat Match" at the 
 * Jolly Trainer") were originally undertaken by me at the request of 
 my brother, Mr. Henry Mayhew, and will, I believe, form part of his 
 invaluable work on " London Labour and the Poor." 
 
 AUGUSTUS MAYHEW. 
 
 March 1, 1858. 
 
 M737572 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Prontispiece. 
 
 The Asylum toe the Houseless .... 
 
 The Smash ...... 
 
 Baby "Phil" in the Workhouse .... 
 
 Philip at the Pauper School .... 
 
 The Water-Cress Market . . . 
 
 Young Philip joins a School op Crossing-Sweepers 
 
 The "Doss" ...... 
 
 " Phil" tries a New Walk in Life . 
 
 A Midnight Pic-nic . . . 
 
 The Great 100. Rat Match .... 
 
 Bertha meets with many Priends 
 
 The Prize Pight interrupted by the Police 
 
 The Porged Cheque . . < 
 
 Epsom Races ...... 
 
 Phll's next Venture ..... 
 
 The Tramps ...... 
 
 The Captain, por the Pirst Time in his Life (he says), tastes Per 
 
 pect Bliss / . 
 
 The Meeting at Stonehenge .... 
 The Pight in the Vagrant Ward 
 Phil wishes he was Married .... 
 Bertha is declared to have a Remarkably Small Pinger 
 The Pamily op Nathaniel Crosier, Esq., aroused by an Alarm op 
 
 Thieves . . . . 
 
 Phil is declared to be a most Accomplished Youth . 
 Important Business ..... 
 Nathaniel Crosier, Esq., passes a very Restless Night 
 
 page 
 9 
 
 61 
 76 
 91 
 118 
 128 
 146 
 158 
 179 
 187 
 211 
 
 235 
 
 253 
 
 277 
 
 288 
 3X0 
 320 
 333 
 
 375 
 
 384 
 403 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 THE ROMANCE PRECEDING THE REALITY. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I.— A Crowd ....... 
 
 II.— Frozen Out . . < . 
 
 III.— The Refuge ...... 
 
 IV.— Adrift ....... 
 
 V.— The Release . . . 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 5 
 
 12 
 25 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST. 
 YOUNG WORKHOUSE AND FATHER PARISH. 
 
 I.--" Dragged Up" 
 
 IX— The Pauper Boy's New Home .... 
 III.— The Pauper School . . . . • 
 
 IV.— Four Years and their Changes . • • 
 
 V.— The Runaways ..... 
 
 33 
 41 
 47 
 
 54 
 65 
 
 HOOK THE SECOim 
 CHILDHOOD IN THE STREETS 
 
 I 
 lX- 
 
 m.- 
 
 IV.- 
 
 v.- 
 
 VI.- 
 
 m- 
 
 VIII.- 
 
 IX.- 
 
 X.- 
 
 XI.- 
 
 XII.- 
 
 XHL- 
 
 XIV.- 
 
 XV.- 
 XVI.- 
 
 xvn.- 
 
 XVHI.- 
 
 — The Start in Life 
 —The Water-Cress Market 
 
 -over-Heels 
 
 -Caten-Wheeling and Head 
 
 -On the Crossing 
 
 -A Night on Town . 
 
 -The Interview 
 
 -Hampstead , . 
 
 -On the Heath 
 
 -Every Man has his Fancy 
 
 -Friends Arrive 
 
 -Captain Merton Crosier at Home 
 
 -The Fight por the Championship 
 
 -All Work and no Play . 
 
 -Showing that Captain Crosier had no Idea 
 
 of Money , . 
 
 -Into the Fire . , . 
 
 -In which the Captain does not 
 
 Gentleman . % 
 
 -The Derby Day . 
 -Locked Up 
 
 CONDUCT 
 
 of the Value 
 
 HIMSEIiP AS A 
 
 69 
 
 72 
 
 84 
 
 97 
 
 106 
 
 124 
 
 129 
 
 142 
 
 148 
 
 161 
 
 176 
 
 182 
 
 193 
 
 198 
 206 
 
 212 
 216 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGB 
 
 XIX.— Bertha, in Danger ...... 229 
 
 XX.— Out Nutting . • # • 23 * 
 
 XXI.— Which will prove that a certain French Gentleman was 
 
 not only Alive, but Stirring ..... 239 
 
 XXII.— A Hunt after Philip 242 
 
 X^XIIL— In re the Winding Up op the Grand National Marriage 
 Insurance and Universal Matrimonial Benefit Company, 
 Capital 700,000/., with Power to Increase to 7,000,000/. 
 
 A Deposit of 6c?. per Share to be Paid on Allotment . 247 
 
 BOOK THE THIRD. 
 THE ROAD TO RUIN. 
 
 I.— On the Tramp .......... . . 250 
 
 II. — Captain Crosier narrowly escapes being an Honest Man . 257 
 
 III— " Accommodation for Travellers" . . . 265 
 
 IY.— Great Care is taken of the Hazlewood Family . . 270 
 
 V.— Stonehenge ....... 27S 
 
 VI. — Billy Fortune proves that he cannot be Trusted Alone . 289 
 
 VIE.— In which we blush for the Captain . . . . 296 
 
 VIII— The Captain's Plot 301 
 
 IX.— HOW THE BEST YEARS OF PHIL'S LlFE WERE WASTED . . 309 
 
 X.— Bertha behaves like a Woman . . . . . 312 
 
 XI.— The Travelling Circus . . . . . . 317 
 
 XII.— The Captain is Guilty of what he considers a Great 
 
 Waste of Money .*».... 321 
 
 XIII.— Some of the Adventures which befel Monsieur Emile 
 
 Vautrin during Ten Years of his Life . . .334 
 
 XIV.— Containing many Incidents which ought to have been told 
 pages ago, relating, among other circumstances, how 
 Father and Son met, the Conversation that ensued, and 
 
 in what manner phil followed his parent's advice . 340 
 
 XV.— Love and Vengeance . . . . . 347 
 
 XVI.— Vautrin gives his Son Physic and Advice . . 353 
 
 XVII.— Showing how Philip made vast Sums of Money . . 35 S 
 
 XVIII.— In which a Father drinks away his Daughter . . . 367 
 
 XIX— Philip "Goes In and Wins" 374 
 
 XX.— A Marriage which was evidently not made in Heaven . 377 
 
 XXL— Cassandra II. 385 
 
 XXII.— A Wedding Trip 390 
 
 XX1IL— Mr. Vautrin, 3un., Visits the Continent . . .393 
 
 XXIV.— A Bed of Thorns 401 
 
 XXV.— Accounts are Settled . . . . . .406 
 

 "PAYED WITH GOLD." 
 
 THE ROMANCE PRECEDING THE REALITY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A Kensington 'bus first pulled up, then a Hansom, then a parcels 
 delivery cart, then a Chaplin and Home's van, then a " Royal Blue," 
 an " Atlas," and two perambulators. 
 
 Her Majesty's police-van was the only vehicle that drove by, and 
 the gentleman in uniform who daily takes the air in the open cup- 
 board. at the end, continued to read his penny "Morning £W" undis- 
 turbed by the stoppage and the crowd. 
 
 The black windowless omnibus divided for a few seconds the atten- 
 tion of the throng in the road and on the pavement. 
 
 The Kensington driver asked the police coachman " "What's yer 
 fare all the way, my proosshun blue ?" 
 
 The Atlas cad shouted out to the police conductor, " Won't any 
 of your inside gents be so good as to ride outside to obleege a lady ?" 
 
 Not only was the roadway blocked, but the pavement was covered 
 by a mob, huddled together as closely as rats in a corner. It was a 
 bitter, frosty winter's day, with an easterly wind blowing, that, as 
 you faced it, filled the eyes with water, and made them smart like 
 hartshorn ; but, despite the cold, the black circle of the crowd seemed 
 every moment to acquire an additional circumference of curious pas- 
 sengers. Where the people came from was a marvel. They seemed 
 to leak in from all sides. Yet hardly any out of the scores that had 
 collected together knew why they were stopping, or could even get a 
 peep at the principal object of attraction. 
 
 " What's up, Jim ?" said one of the 'bus drivers to his conductor, 
 as the latter was returning to his bracket after diving into tho mob. 
 " Is it cream o' the walley or fits as has overcome the lady ?" 
 
 It was the dusk of the evening, and though the streets were 
 thinned of their work-a-day traffic, the policeman had no sooner said 
 to a woman seated on the door-step, " Now then, this won't do ; you 
 
 B 
 
2 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 must move on, you know," than instantly every person who was pass- 
 ing the spot was brought to a dead halt. There were City gentle- 
 men going home to dinner, and nurses wheeling the children home 
 to tea ; clerks and linendrapers' assistants going back to business ; 
 bricklayers with empty hods, ticket porters with their hands in 
 their pockets, men about town, street boys, private soldiers, bill- 
 stickers, return postmen, "roughs" and costers, and, indeed, the same 
 incongruous mass that is always to be found in a London crowd ; for, 
 as each person came drifting up the street, he seemed to be turned 
 suddenly round by his curiosity, like a cork in a pent stream, so that 
 ere long the mob appeared to consist of the same curious collection 
 of odds and ends — human chips, straws, and rags as it were — as is 
 seen jumbled together in front of a miller's dam. 
 
 The most important business gave way to the excitement. There 
 was a confectioner's man with an ice pudding in the green box on his 
 head, and that pudding, so slowly thawing into liquor in the heated 
 atmosphere of the mob, had been ordered for a neighbouring dinner 
 party, /which had already eaten its way down to the game. There 
 was an electric telegraph boy with his despatch-box at his side, con- 
 taining a most important commercial message, which had just arrived 
 by the sub-marine telegraph. There was a doctor's boy, with his 
 little double-flapped market-basket, and he in a peevish voice was 
 calling on the crowd to take care and " not go smashing his aperients." 
 There was a milliner's lad, too, with his oil-silk covered basket, in 
 which was carefully packed an elaborate head-dress for a lady, who, 
 attired for the theatre, was anxiously watching for the arrival of the 
 messenger, and yet there he was, jammed in the crowd, calling out 
 every minute, " "Where are you a shoving to, stoopid," and " Now then, 
 keep back, there, can't you, or you'll be a squashing this here turband 
 and feathers." And there was a host of other people besides upon 
 equally pressing errands. But every kind of business and work ap- 
 peared to have come to a stand-still until each looker-on had been able 
 to satisfy himself as to the cause why he, among a hundred others, was 
 loitering there. 
 
 A milkman who was near the centre of the crowd remarked to an 
 elderly dame, as the policeman shook the wretched creature on the 
 door-step, " She don't seem like an impostor, do she ?" 
 
 " Well, there's no telling, I'm sure," replied the lady ; " but, if you 
 ask me my private opinion, I should say she's been foolish enough to 
 allow herself to be overtook by liquor." 
 
 * Come, you mustn't be sitting here in the cold, do you hear. 
 "Where do you live ?" cried the officer, as he took the woman roughly 
 by the arm. 
 
 She looked up with a vacant, sleepy expression, and muttered, 
 " Nowhere." 
 
 A carpenter, with a. nut-basket of tools over his shoulder, here 
 stepped forward, and asked, in a kindly tone, " Ain't you got no 
 lodgings, my good woman ?" 
 
 " I was turned out of them two days ago," was the almost inaudible 
 reply, for she spoke in so low a tone that her interrogator had to put 
 his ear down to her bonnet to catch her words. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 "But haven't you got any friends who'll take you in ?" continued 
 the workman. 
 
 " No, no ; I'm a stranger here." And her chin and under lip began 
 to work with the rising sobs. 
 
 A man in the mob said coarsely to his companion, " Oh, come on, 
 Bill, it's only a dodge." And the doctor's boy, seeing somebody 
 quitting the crowd, suddenly thought of the powder he had in his 
 basket for the baby in convulsions, and darted oif at full speed. 
 
 " "Well, you know," said the policeman, "if you persist in stopping 
 here, I must take you to the station." 
 
 " Oh, thank you — anywhere," was the woman's reply. 
 
 The policeman stood still, uncertain how to act, and the crowd 
 began to discuss among themselves the merits of the case j some de- 
 clared that she was " fairly starved down," others, " that she was only 
 trying to excite compassion so as to get some drink out of it." A 
 few of the more sensible, however, said she was ill, and that she 
 ought to be taken to the doctor's directly. 
 
 "If that young woman," exclaimed one, "were well fed and de- 
 cently dressed, she'd be as tidy a looking girl as you could meet with 
 in these parts." 
 
 "You should take her to the workhouse," observed the car- 
 penter ; upon which a man, with a pair of boot-fronts under his arm, 
 burst out vehemently, saying, "It's the right of every true-born 
 Briton to have food and shelter give 'em, and I mean to say as it's a 
 cussed shame that any poor creeture should be left to starve like a 
 dog in the streets, as this here party is." 
 
 Then there was a cry among the mob of " Ah ! so it is, indeed," as 
 if the thought had only just struck them all. 
 
 " I tell you they won't take her in at the Union," expostulated 
 the policeman, in answer to a hundred and one directions, " and I 
 can't charge her at the station. Here, come along with me, young 
 woman ; the only place for you is the 'sylum for the houseless in 
 Playhouse-yard." 
 
 As she did not attempt to move, but was settling down as if going 
 to sleep again, the officer took hold of her arm to help her to rise ; 
 but the miserable woman was so weak and faint with the cold and 
 starvation, that she was unable to stand, and staggered back on to 
 the step. 
 
 " Shame ! shame !" cried the mob, growing indignant with the 
 thought that she was to be dragged as a criminal through the streets. 
 " Why don't you go and fetch a doctor, Bobby," shouted a coster ; 
 " you see the poor thing can't step it." 
 
 One of the neighbours, who, with her shawl turned over her head, 
 had been standing on the next door-step, patiently watching the whole 
 of the proceedings, now made her appearance with a cup of steaming 
 tea in her hand. 
 
 " Here, my dear," she said, as she stooped down and held a saucerfnl 
 to the lips of the poor soul, " drink this ; it'll do you more good than 
 listening to a pack of men's talk." 
 
 The wretched, fainting creature sipped at the hot drink, and, though 
 she seemed to swallow with difficulty at first, she said, in a short 
 
 b 2 
 
4 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 time, " Oh, thank you ! thank you ! that warms me a bit." And then, 
 after a few more sips, she passed her hand over her forehead like one 
 waking up from stupor, and, as she pushed the hair back, murmured, 
 " I've had enough, I'm obliged to you ; I can go now." 
 
 The policeman led her off, grasping her firmly under the arm, and 
 half pushing her along, as though he were taking a " drunk and 
 disorderly" to the station-house. The woman staggered in her gait, 
 and seemed so helpless, that many among the crowd, gazing after her, 
 were still divided in their opinion as to whether she were in liquor or 
 in want. A host of little boys and straggling men and women fol- 
 lowed in her wake along the pavement, like the sympathising crowd 
 at the tail of an Irish funeral. 
 
 " Ah ! she's seen better days, she has," said the kind-hearted dame 
 who had brought out the tea, and who, with the cup still in her hand, 
 was looking after her. " Her talk warn't like that of a common person ; 
 and them hands of hern ain't done much work, for she hadn't so much 
 as got any needle-marks on her forefinger." 
 
 A crowd of female neighbours began to collect round the last 
 speaker, and one observed, " I really think, do you know, Mrs. Perks, 
 she had nothing on but that black stuff petticoat, and that she'd 
 made away with the very gownd off her back. Why, it's enough to 
 freeze all her blood to ice in such weather as this here." 
 
 A thin woman, with a dry cough, observed, with a contemptuous 
 toss of her cap, " "Well, all I've got to say is this one remark : If she's 
 so very genteel as you ladies would wish to implicate, why don't she 
 go to her friends ? Surely they might help her at least to emigrand. 
 But this I will say, if a piece of goods like her is to meet with re- 
 wards for miscondick — for every mother of a family among you must 
 have noticed the situation she was in, and not so much as a wedding- 
 ring to be seen on her finger — why, where'd be the use of females 
 remaining virtuous and being circumspicious in their behaviour, like 
 oiirselves ?" 
 
 " Shame on yer, Mm. Starrer !" ejaculated the dame with the tea- 
 cup ; " I hope it may never be your lot to be so sittewated yourself, 
 and have a person to sit in judgment, jury and witnesses, on you, as 
 you've been a doing to her, poor soul." 
 
 It was, however, too cold to continue the discussion; so Mrs. 
 Sparrow and the neighbours retired to their respective homes to talk 
 the matter over with their husbands and fellow-lodgers. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 FROZEN OUT. 
 
 It was a bitter winter's day we have said. 
 
 The snow had fallen thickly during the night, whilst all London 
 was asleep, and the early waker in the suburbs, as he lay in his bed 
 wondering what made the road so still and the morning light so 
 bright, heard the song of the market carter, that without the rumble 
 of a wheel he had traced creeping from the distance, cease suddenly, 
 and followed by a cry of " Here, police ! come along, look sharp !" 
 Then, as his curiosity sent him shivering to the window, he saw in 
 the dawn the black, steaming horse stretched at full length upon the 
 white roadway, kicking up the powdery snow like foam, with the 
 carter leaning on its neck, and the piles of green cabbages in the 
 cart all dabbed with flocks of snow. 
 
 On the other hand, the heavier sleeper in the town was roused 
 out of his last nap by the sound of shovels scraping harshly on the 
 pavement, as if a hundred knife-grinders were at work in the street ; 
 and others, who dozed still later, had their dreams abruptly cut in 
 two by some dozen cadgers from the nearest low lodging-house, who, 
 with a frost-tipped bit of green stuff raised on a pole, were all shout- 
 ing together, at the top of their voices, " Poor froze-out gard'ners L 
 poor froze-out gard'ners !" 
 
 Truly there is hardly a more startling sight than to wake up and 
 find the town, which yesterday was black with its winter's coat of 
 soot and dirt, suddenly changed to a city of almost silver beauty, 
 seeming as if it were some monster capital at the Polar regions, 
 glittering with its glacial architecture, and bristling with its monu- 
 ments, pinnacles, and towers, like so many palaces and temples hewn 
 out of ice. 
 
 Every house-top seems to be newly thatched with the virgin flocks, 
 and every cornice striped as if with a trimming of the fairest down, 
 All the verandahs are white as a tent-top, and the railings look as 
 if made out of pith rather than ironwork ; every window-sill, and, 
 indeed, the least ledge on which the foamy powder can lie, is thick 
 and bulging with its layer of alabaster-like particles. On each door- 
 step is spread the whitest possible mat, and each street-lamp is 
 crowned with a nightcap of the purest fleece, whilst the huge coloured 
 lamps over the chemists' seem gaudier than ever, and their blue and 
 red bulls'-eyes look like huge gems set massively amid lumps of 
 frosted silver. 
 
 The various signs over the tradesmen's shops are nearly blotted 
 out by the drift that has clung to them. The monster golden 
 boot above the shoemaker's is silvered over on the side next the 
 wind ; the " little dustpans" are filled with a pile of white fluff; the 
 golden fleece, hanging over the hosiers' shops, seems to have changed 
 
6 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 its metallic coat for one of the purest wool ; the three balls at the 
 pawnbroker's appear to have been converted into a triad of gelder- 
 roses ; and the great carved lions and unicorns between the first- 
 floor windows of the royal tradesmen, have huge dabs of snow rest- 
 ing on their necks, like thick, white, matted manes. 
 
 The surface of the earth itself is white as a wedding-cake. In the 
 roadway, in the early morning, you can count the traffic by the ruts 
 the wheels have made, for every one leaves behind it a glistening trail 
 as if some monster snail had crawled along the way. What a change, 
 too, has taken place in the tumult of the busiest thoroughfares ! The 
 streets that formerly deafened you with their noise are now hushed 
 as night, and everything that moves past is silent as an apparition. 
 Even the big clots of snow that keep on falling from the copings and 
 the lamps and trees, startle you, from the utter absence of all sound, 
 as they strike the earth. The wheels of the heaviest carts seem to 
 be muffled, and roll on as if they were passing over the softest 
 moss. The horses go along with their hoofs spluttering where the 
 trodden ground has been caked into slipperiness, and the drivers 
 walk at their head, with their hand upon the rein, while the 
 nervous, timid brutes steam with the unusual labour, and their 
 breath gushes down from their nostrils in absolute rays of mist. 
 
 It is at this period, too, that the ice-cart makes its appearance in the 
 streets. The costermonger who can no longer drive his trade at the 
 green-markets, now looks to the ponds for a living, and comes to 
 town with a load of transparent splintery fragments, that seem 
 like jagged pieces of broken plate-glass windows. The omnibuses 
 have an extra horse put on when they reach the metropolitan hills, 
 for the snow in the roads has long before mid-day been rolled into 
 ice, and the highways are like a long, broad slide. To accommodate 
 the outsides, hay has been wound round the stepping-irons, and the 
 gents on the "knife-board," along the roof of the first 'busses, 
 appear with thick railway-rugs tucked round their knees, whilst, at 
 the different halting-places, the conductor jumps down and stamps 
 on the pavement, as he does a double-shuffle to warm himself, fling- 
 ing his arms across his chest, and striking the breast of his top-coat 
 with the same energy as if he were beating a carpet. 
 
 Snow or sunshine, London work must be done ; but now the 
 mechanics and clerks that you meet in the streets go along with 
 their heads down and their hands in their pockets, at a half- trotting 
 pace. Their necks are bound round with thick wisps of comforters, and 
 the tips of their noses, that overhang the worsted network, are red, as 
 if tinselled, and all sniff and cough, as they carefully dodge by the 
 round iron plates over the coal-holes of the metropolis. The pave- 
 ment in front of the bakers' shops is the only place from which the 
 snow has entirely disappeared, and where the pedestrian can tread 
 with safety. The whole town seems to swarm with boy and men 
 sweepers, who go about from house to house, knocking at the doors, 
 and offering to clear the pavement before the dwelling, according to 
 Act of Parliament, for twopence. Everybodyyou meet has the breast 
 of his great-coat and hat-rim dredged with white ; and the police- 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 7 
 
 man's shiny cape is, with its fur of snow, more like a nobleman's 
 ermine tippet than the ordinary hard- weather costume of the force. 
 
 How bright the air, too, seems with the light reflected from the 
 snow. You can see to the end of the longest streets like on an 
 early summer morning. There is a white, cold look about the scene ; 
 and everything seems so black from the contrast of the intense glare 
 of the ground, that even at noonday you might fancy that a silver har- 
 vest moon was shining in the skies, and that the snow itself, lying on 
 one side of each object, was but the reflexion of the pale brilliance of 
 the white beams falling on them. 
 
 The sky looks almost like a dome of slate, and the parks and 
 squares like large new plaster models of countries without a single 
 path or bed to be traced, except where the few passengers have worn 
 a narrow dirty streak across them. The trees, too, are all ashy grey, 
 and the objects in the distance seem to be twice as near as usual, 
 while the dark specks of the people moving over the great snowy 
 waste appear like blots on a sheet of paper. 
 
 The statues throughout the metropolis have lost all artistic mo- 
 delling in their form, and strike one as being as rudely fashioned as 
 if they were so many figures moulded by schoolboys out of snow. 
 Some, however, are merely speckled with the flakes, and have their 
 Grecian draperies splashed over with white, like a plasterer's clothes. 
 Sir Robert Peel, gazing down Cheapside, looks as if some miller had 
 rubbed violently up against him. Old Major Cartwright, seated in 
 his arm-chair in Burton-crescent, has at least a couple of pounds of 
 snow resting on the top of his skull and dabbed over his face, and 
 giving him the appearance of having been newly lathered previous to 
 having his head and cheeks shaved. The periwig of Greorge III., 
 at Charing-cross, has turned white in a night, like the hair of Marie 
 Antoinette. The mounted effigy of E. M. the Duke of "Wellington, at 
 Hyde Park-corner, continues, despite a spadeful of snow at the nape 
 of his neck, to point with his baton — which is now white as a wax- 
 candle — majestically in the direction of the White Horse Cellar, his 
 patient steed having its hind-quarters covered w^ith so heavy a deposit 
 that his Grace seems to be sitting, like a life-guardsman, on a mat of 
 bleached sheepskin. 
 
 Now the water-supply of the metropolis begins to be almost as 
 scarce as in Paris ; while the water-pipes of the more prudent of the 
 householders are seen bandaged round with straw, like the wheel- 
 spokes of a new carriage. The turn-cocks, with their shiny leathern 
 epaulets, go along with their immense keys, like those of some monster 
 beer-barrel, and erect tall wooden plugs for the temporary supply of 
 the neighbours, who flock there with pails and pitchers, and wait in 
 a crowd to take their turn at the tap, while the waste water gutters 
 and hardens over the snow like so much grease. 
 
 But if there be a scarcity of water, the public-houses, at least, have 
 determined to make up for it, for in the windows are printed placards 
 announcing that " Hot Elder Wine" and " Hot Spioed Ale" may 
 be had within. Taking advantage, too, of the "inclemency" of the 
 weather, all kinds of warm comestibles suddenly appear on the 
 
8 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 street-stalls. The fish kettles, full of "hot eels" and "pea-soup,** 
 have a cloud of steam issuing from them, and the baked potato-cans 
 are spirting out jets of a high-pressure vapour, like the escape-pipe 
 to some miniature steam-factory. As you walk along the street, too, 
 the nostrils are regaled by pleasant odours of baked apples and roasted 
 chesnuts from the neighbouring stalls, at which sit old women in 
 coachmen's many-caped coats, with their feet in an apple-basket, and 
 a rushlight shade, full of red-hot charcoal, at their side — the fire 
 shining in bright orange spots through the holes. 
 
 The pert London sparrows seem almost to have disappeared with 
 the frost, and the few that remain have a wretched half-torpid look, 
 and have gone all fluffy and turned to a mere brown ball of feathers. 
 In the suburbs, the robins are seen for the first time leaving little 
 trident impressions of their feet on the garden snow, and their scarlet 
 bosoms looking red as Christmas berries against the white earth. 
 Then as the dusk of evening sets in, and you see in the squares and 
 crescents the crimson flickering of the flames from the cosy sea-coal 
 fire in the parlours, lighting up the windows like flashes of sheet- 
 lightning, the cold, cheerless aspect of the streets without sets you 
 thinking of the exquisite comfort of our English homes. 
 
 But if grateful thoughts of comfort are suggested by the contrast 
 of the snow, the same cause leads the more imaginative to think of 
 the sharp, biting misery gnawing into the very bones of the luckless 
 portion of London society. To those who can put on warm flannel, 
 and encase their bodies in a thick great-coat, a sharp frost means only 
 " healthy, bracing weather," and to such people the long evenings are 
 -•— -flfeieome, from a sense of the happy family circle gathered round the 
 bright cherry-coloured fire. To the well-born young silver-spoonbills 
 of the "West- end, Christmas is a season of mirth and holiday games, 
 of feasting, pantomimes, and parties. By the elder gentlefolks it is 
 regarded as a time of good cheer, with its cattle-shows and " guinea- 
 hampers," and presents of fat turkeys from the country ; for such 
 as these, the butchers' shops are piled with prize-meat, coated with 
 thick fat, and decorated with huge cockades — for such as these, 
 the grocers' windows are dressed out with dried fruits and spices, 
 and studded with lumps of candied peel ; and Covent-garden is lit- 
 tered with holly, laurel, and mistletoe, and fragrant with the odours 
 i of bright-coloured fruits. 
 x 4 But how, think you, must the cold be welcomed by those whose 
 means of living cease directly the earth becomes like cast-iron with 
 the frost. How merry must Christmas appear to those whose tattered 
 clothes afford no more protection than broken windows against the 
 bleak, stinging breeze. How pleasant and cosy must the long evenings 
 be to such as have to spend them crouching under the dry arches ; 
 and how delicious the sight of the teeming markets to poor wretches 
 who, to stay their hunger, must devour the refuse orange-peel lying 
 about the stones there. 
 
 Some readers, maybe, will fancy that such winter's misery is far 
 from being common among our people ; but they should remember 
 that in the lottery of life the prizes, as in other lotteries, are but the 
 exception, and that the greater proportion of the chances are dead 
 

 
 
 
 A 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 9 
 
 against those entering the lists, so that where one adventurer gets a 
 lucky cast, thousands are doomed to end the game as badly as they 
 began it. Readers should bear in mind, too, that with the luckless, 
 the winter is especially the season when the wants are not only 
 greater, but employment is scarcer, and, therefore, life harder than 
 ever. 
 
 Not to speak of the really destitute and the outcast, the well-to-do 
 in London are surrounded by thousands whose labour lasts only for 
 the summer — such as brickmakers, market-gardeners, harvest-men, 
 and the like ; besides multitudes of others, such as navigators and 
 ground-labourers, who can ply their trade only so long as the 
 earth can be made to yield to the spade and the pick ; and others 
 again, as the dock labourers and 'long-shore men, who depend upon 
 the very winds for the food and fuel of themselves and families. 
 
 The sceptical upon such matters, and more especially those who 
 believe that destitution is always the result of idleness, should visit; 
 the Asylum for the Houseless Poor; an asylum which is opened! 
 only, be it said, when the thermometer reaches freezing-point, and) 
 which offers nothing but dry bread and warm shelter to such as| 
 avail themselves of its charity. 
 
 To this place swarm, as the bitter winter's night comes on, 
 some half-thousand penniless and homeless wanderers. The po- 
 verty-stricken from every quarter of the globe are found within 
 its wards ;' from the haggard American seaman to the lank Polish 
 refugee, the pale German " out - wanderer," the tearful black sea- 
 cook, the shivering Lascar crossing- sweeper, the helpless Chinese 
 beggar, and the half-torpid Italian organ-boy. It is a ragged con- 
 gress of nations, a convocation of squalor and misery, of desti- 
 tution, degradation, and suffering, from all the corners of the^ 
 earth. Almost every trade and calling are there too : agricultural/ 
 railway, and dock labourers, thrown out of work by the frost; 
 unemployed artisans, chiefly belonging to the out-door trades, such 
 as carpenters and painters ; sailors without their registry tickets, 
 who have either been cast away, or cheated of their all by the 
 "crimps;" broken-down tradesmen, clerks, shopmen, and errand- 
 boys, who either through illness or guilt have been deprived of their 
 situations ; and, above all, Irish immigrants, who have been starved 
 out of their own land. Moreover, there are poor needlewomen, 
 driven for " back rent" from their lodgings ; servants out of place ; 
 charwomen; real "frozen-out" garden-women; street-sellers, who , 
 have eaten up their stock money ; tramps ; beggar-women ; and ol^J 
 habitual vagrants. Nearly every shade and grade of misery, mis- 
 fortune, vice, and even guilt, are to be found in the place ; for characters 
 are not demanded previous to admission, and want alone is the sole 
 qualification required of the applicants. The asylum for the house- 
 less is at once the beggar's hotel, the, tramp's town-house, the 
 outcast's haven of refuge — the last dwelling, indeed, on the road to 
 ruin. 
 
 The geography of the asylum for the houseless is somewhat diffi- 
 cult to make out to those whose knowledge of London extends no 
 
10 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 farther eastwards than the Boyal Italian Opera House, or even 
 Exeter Hall. 
 
 There are some streets that even the most experienced cabmen 
 have to descend from their box half a dozen times, in order to 
 ferret out the road to; and Playhouse-yard — the locality of the 
 refuge — is one of these. 
 
 The way lies up a long, narrow street, rendered still narrower by a 
 double flank of stalls trestled along the kerb. At the corner of 
 every turning hereabouts is a gin-palace, with a monster lamp sus- 
 pended over the entrance, and a long, shell-fish stall in front of the 
 door, set out with a trefoil arrangement of pen'orfchs of oysters, as big 
 as muffins. Outside the bakers' shop-windows are stuck large bills, 
 always announcing the grateful intelligence that bread is " Down 
 Again to Even Monet;" and at the tea-dealers' there are comic 
 placards, designed and coloured by ticket-writers, setting forth either 
 the advantages of joining their "pudding club," or the dangerous 
 strength of their " gunpowder tea." Pawnbrokers, too, abound in the 
 neighbourhood; and at their door hang blankets and patchwork coun- 
 terpanes, suspended from one corner, as in auction-rooms, while the 
 watches, ranged in the windows, are as big and thick as the bull's- 
 eye to a dark lantern. Nor is there any lack of coal and potato 
 sheds ; and at these the current price of fuel is always quoted in 
 chalk on a board at so much "per cwt" Here, too, on every 
 Sunday in the summer season, the light spring-van, which at other 
 times is used for enabling the neighbours to indulge in that exciting 
 lunatic sport known as " shooting the moon," puts on curtains, and 
 starts with a party of pleasure and a beer barrel for Hampton Court. 
 
 The yard christened Playhouse is a lane that it is ridiculous to 
 dream of entering in a cab. Accordingly, two or three street-stalls 
 have to be disarranged, in order to allow your vehicle standing-room, 
 and never was such commotion among the coster trucks and apple- 
 stalls as when your Hansom endeavours to draw up to the kerb. As 
 you turn the corner, you enter even a poorer district than before. 
 Here pawnbrokers will not flourish, and " dolly-shops" are found to 
 prevail instead, where even the pledges which have been refused by 
 the " cruel uncle" are not rejected by those ebony " babes in the 
 wood" that swing over the door as signs of the Black Doll. The 
 baker's shop, the grocer's, and the coal warehouse have severally dis- 
 appeared, and been rolled into one omnium-gatherum store in " the 
 general line." 
 
 The old Eortune Theatre stood in this same Playhouse-yard some 
 two centuries and a half ago, and never was more pathetic drama per- 
 formed there, under the auspices of the blind goddess, than that which 
 is nightly represented at the asylum for the houseless ; for, rightly 
 viewed, the scenes and changes enacted there are but a portion of the 
 great play of fortune, and the ragged crowd within the walls but 
 the wretched mummers to whom Pate has cast the sorriest parts. 
 
 It is impossible to mistake the asylum if you go there at dark, just 
 as the lamp in the wire cage over the entrance-door is being lighted ; 
 for this is the hour for opening, and ranged along the kerb is a kind 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 11 
 
 of ragged regiment, drawn up four deep, and stretching far up and 
 down the narrow lane, until the crowd is like a hedge to the roadway. 
 
 Nowhere in the world can a similar sight be witnessed. 
 
 It is a terrible thing to look down upon that squalid crowd from 
 one of the upper windows. There they stand shivering in the snow, 
 with their thin cobwebby garments hanging in tatters about them. 
 Many are without shirts ; with their bare skin showing through the 
 rents and gaps, like the hide of a dog with the mange. Some have 
 their greasy garments tied round their wrists and ankles with string, 
 to prevent the piercing wind from blowing up them. A few are with- 
 out shoes, and these keep one foot only to the ground, while the bare 
 flesh that has had to tramp through the snow is blue and livid-looking, 
 as half-cooked meat. 
 
 Tou can pick out the different foreigners and countrymen in that 
 wretched throng by the different colours of their costume. There you 
 see the black sailor in his faded red woollen shirt ; the Lascar in his 
 dirty- white calico tunic ; the Frenchman in his short blue smock ; the 
 countryman in his clay-stained frock, with the bosom worked all over 
 like a dirty sampler ; and the Irish market-woman with her faded 
 straw bonnet, flattened by the heavy loads she has borne on her 
 head. 
 
 The mob is of all ages, and women and girls as well as men and boys 
 are huddled there close together. There are old-looking lads, shrink- 
 ing within their clothes with the cold, and blowing their nails to warm 
 their finger-tips; and mothers with their bosoms bare, despite the 
 keenness of the weather, and the beggar babes sucking vainly at 
 them. Each man has his hands in his pockets, and every now and 
 then he shudders rather than shivers, as if positively palsied by the 
 frost, whilst the women have the ends of their thin shawls and gauzy 
 mantles rolled round their bare arms, like the cloths about a brigand's 
 legs. 
 
 It is a sullenly silent crowd, without any of the riot and rude frolic 
 which generally ensues upon any gathering in the London streets ; for 
 the only sounds heard are the squealing of the beggar infants, or the 
 wrangling of the vagrant boys for the front ranks, together with a 
 continued succession of hoarse coughs, that seem to answer each 
 other like the bleating of a flock of sheep. 
 
 Poor souls ! they are waiting in the numbing cold for those barn- 
 like doors to open, and as the time draws near, those in the front are 
 seen unfolding the bit of old rag or dirty paper in which they have 
 secured the ticket that entitles them to some one or two nights' 
 further shelter. 
 
 It was to this refuge that the policeman referred when he said to 
 the woman whom he found half frozen on the door-step, " The asylum 
 for the houseless is the only place for you." It was to this refuge that 
 the officer and the faint and weary creature were on their way — so 
 faint and weary, indeed, that Heaven only knows what wretched fate 
 would befal her if the bare hospitality of the place should be denied 
 to her. 
 
12 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE REFUGE. 
 
 > Some gentlemen had called at the asylum that day to see the place, 
 and the class of persons usually admitted there. The superintendent 
 was busy, before the opening of the doors, explaining to them, in the 
 office at the side of the passage, the rules and customs of the institu- 
 tion. 
 
 The bare whitewashed entrance was so like that to the stage of 
 some minor theatre, and the little office, with its wicket window 
 giving into the passage, reminded one so forcibly of the room occu- 
 pied by the stage-door keeper, that you might almost have fancied 
 it had formed part of the old Fortune Playhouse. 
 
 In a corner of the office itself stood several]square bread baskets, as 
 big as sea chests, piled with little blocks of cut-up loaves, resembling 
 both in size and colour so many fire-bricks. 
 
 ""We give each person, on coming in at night," said the superin- 
 tendent to the visitors, " half a pound of the best bread, and a like 
 quantity on going out in the morning ; and children, even if they be at 
 the breast, have the same, which goes to swell the mother's allowance. 
 That gentleman," continued the officer, pointing to the clerk who was 
 standing at the high desk beside the wicket window, " enters in this 
 ledger" (it was as thick as a banker's) "the name, age, trade or pro- 
 fession — for we've all classes here, I can assure you — and place of 
 birth of the applicants, as well as where they slept the previous 
 night." 
 
 The strangers glanced their eyes down the several columns of this 
 striking catalogue of destitution. The entries under the first three 
 divisions showed, as we have said, that the asylum was the refuge for 
 the outcasts of all ages, callings, and countries, but the last division 
 was that which told the saddest tale of all; for as the eye ranged 
 down the column indicating where each applicant had passed the 
 previous night, it was startled to find how often the clerk had had to 
 write down, "in the streets;" so that "ditto," "ditto" continually 
 repeated under the same head sounded as an ideal chorus of terrible 
 want in the mind's ear. J 
 
 " "We are now going to begin, gentlemen," said the superintendent, 
 as the office clock pointed to the hour of five. " Open the doors and 
 admit new cases." Then, turning to the visitors, he added, " We take 
 all the new cases here ; but those who have been in before and had 
 tickets given to them, show them at another office farther on." 
 
 A negro head, with a face as black as a printer's dabber, and eyes 
 as white as hard-boiled eggs, suddenly appeared at the little wicket. 
 
 "What's your name?" asked the clerk, in a rapid business tone. 
 
 " Tippo Saib," was the answer. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 13 
 
 "How old?" 
 
 " Thirteen, master," said the lad, in the same imploring tone as if 
 he were confessing to some fault. 
 
 " "Where were you born ?" 
 
 " Borned at sea, if please, master." 
 
 " Ah, then, you've no settlement," observed the clerk, writing on. 
 
 " "Well, and where did you sleep last night — eh, boy ?" 
 
 " I had a pen'orth of coffee and slept there, master." 
 
 Here the superintendent came forward, and, anxious to show off the 
 advantages of the institution, in which he took no little honest pride, 
 asked, " And where would you have slept to-night if you hadn't come 
 here — eh ? In the streets, I suppose ? Ah, of course you would," 
 he added, as the boy dolefully nodded assent. " Had anything to eat 
 to-day, now ?" . » 
 
 " I had two buscuits give me by the lady at the baker's, master." 
 
 " Then I dare say you can enjoy half a pound of good bread ? Ah, 
 I thought so. Here you are ! Now, what's the cause of your coming 
 here ? You came home in a ship, I suppose, and had your pay — 
 hadn't you?" 
 
 The boy, who had his lips immediately buried in the hunk of bread, 
 ceased biting for a while, and answered, as if his mouth was full of 
 sawdust, " Yes, master ; I had two pund ten when I was paid off, 
 three weeks ago, besides a chest full of clothes, which is at Mr. 
 Finn's, where I lodged." 
 
 "Ah," said the superintendent, turning to the visitors, "the old 
 thing, gentlemen, ' crimps' again ! "We get hundreds that way. I 
 suppose you owed a week's board, and he took your clothes, and left 
 you nothing but what you stand upright in ? Ah ! I knew^it ! There, 
 you can go." And the sun-charred lad, who had nothing but a blue 
 woollen shirt to keep him from the frosty air, slunk shivering off, 
 with his head half buried between his shoulders, as if he were trying 
 to huddle his limbs together for warmth's sake. 
 
 " That man at the window, now, is an habitual vagrant," said the 
 superintendent, half aside, to the strangers, as another head appeared 
 at the wicket " He comes to us regularly every year ; he winters in 
 town as punctually as if he was a nobleman. So here you are again — 
 eh ?" he added, turning to the unshorn, black-chinned vagabond, who 
 kept working his body about inside his clothes as if he was all alive. 
 " Yes, sir, I'm come again," answered the man, grinning, as he 
 touched his brimless wide-awake. " You knows my name and age, 
 and where I come from pretty well by this time." 
 
 The fellow was a perfect picture of what in Henry the Eighth's 
 time was styled a " valiant beggar." He stood nearly six feet high, and 
 was a big-boned, " ugly customer" of a man. His clothes of fustian 
 and corduroy were black and shiny with filth, as if they were smeared 
 *. with pitch rather than dirt, and the sleeves of his jacket -were, for 
 warmth's sake, tied tightly round his wrists with pieces of twine. 
 He had evidently no shirt on, for his jacket was tied high up to the 
 throat, and through the rents his bare and grimy skin was visible. 
 
 " Let me see," said the clerk, " I think you were a carpet-weaver 
 last vear ?" 
 
14 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 The fellow observed " that would do as well as anything else." 
 
 " And where did you sleep last night ?" inquired the clerk. 
 
 "At Bethnal-green Union, please, sir." 
 
 " And where the night before ?" broke in the superintendent. 
 
 " Well, I was at Whitechapel Union, then, sir." 
 
 " And what Union the night before that ?" 
 
 " I think it were St. Greorge's in the East. Oh, no, sir, it were 
 Stepney, so it were." 
 
 The superintendent gave a look at the gentlemen, as much as 
 to say, " You see he has made the round of the workhouses ;" and 
 then added to the vagrant, " I suppose you don't like breaking those 
 four bushels of stones the workhouse people give you of a morn- 
 ing ?" 
 
 The fellow answered with a leer, and another wriggle in his clothes, 
 " It ain't exactly the kind of physic as suits my complaint, guv'nor." 
 
 When the vagrant had gone, the superintendent said : " We are ' 
 obliged to let in such cases as those, for, if we were to shut our 
 doors because some impose upon us, we should be punishing the 
 honest poor more than the dishonest." 
 
 After a time — long before a fresh page of the ledger had been 
 filled — the examinations of the applicants wore into monotony. 
 They all told the same unvarying tale, and that was — "destitution." 
 
 " Now, if you please, gentlemen, we'll go up-stairs and have a 
 look at the wards," the superintendent continued; and so saying, he 
 led -the way along the passage towards the lobby. " This," he said, 
 " is where the men wash, before going to their beds." 
 
 It was a square cockpit-like place, with a broad, wooden staircase 
 in one corner, and on the opposite side was a large trough with a 
 pump at one end. Here some of the ragged outcasts were cleansing 
 themselves from their sleeping-out dirt, and indulging in their first 
 wash for many a day ; whilst others, who, by soap and hard scrub- 
 bing, had restored something like whiteness to their countenances, 
 had mounted the platform where hung the long jack-towels, and 
 were busy drying their skin. In this lobby, too, stood a crowd of 
 applicants, who had already slept in the asylum on previous nights, 
 and who were waiting round another wicket window to have their 
 tickets checked. 
 
 " What have you been doing since you slept here last, my man ?' ? 
 the superintendent said to a pale artisan, dressed in canvas spotted 
 with dabs of oil colour, that told he was a house-painter. 
 
 " I ain't been here for a fortnight, sir," answered the mechanic ; " a 
 friend of mine as is going to open a eel-pie shop give me a job." 
 
 Upon this the superintendent observed to the visitors: "You 
 perceive they don't come here unless they are positively driven to 
 it, and when they can afford a night's lodging elsewhere they are 
 glad to get it." 
 
 The next step was to inspect the wards; and, accordingly, the 
 visitors were conducted into what is termed the " lower," or men's 
 ward. 
 
 The sight was utterly unlike all preconceived notions of a dormitory. 
 There was not a bedstead to be seen, nor even so much as a sneiTor 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 15 
 
 blanket visible. The ward itself was a long, bare, whitewashed apart- 
 ment, with square post-like pillars supporting the flat-beamed roof, and 
 reminding the visitor of a large unoccupied store-room — such as are 
 occasionally seen in the neighbourhood of Thames-street and the 
 Docks. Along the floor were ranged what appeared at first sight to 
 be endless rows of empty orange chests, packed closely side by 
 side, so that the boards were divided off into some two hundred 
 shallow-tanpit-like compartments ; and these, the visitors soon 
 learnt, were the berths, or, to speak technically, the " bunks" of the 
 institution. In each of them lay a black mattress, made of some 
 shiny waterproof material, like tarpauling stuffed with straw. At the 
 head of every bunk, hanging against the wall, was a leather, a big 
 " basil" covering, that looked more like a wine-cooper's apron than a 
 counterpane. These are used as coverlids because they are not only 
 strong and durable, but they do not retain vermin. 
 
 In the centre of this ward was a large double-faced grate, with a 
 bright piled-up coke fire, that glowed like a furnace both behind and 
 before. The space around was railed off, the railings serving in 
 rainy weather as a clothes-horse upon which to dry the wet rags of 
 garments of the inmates whilst sleeping. Around the fierce stove 
 was gathered a group of the houseless wanderers, the red rays tinting 
 the crowd of haggard faces with a bright lurid light that coloured 
 the skin as red as wine ; and one and all stretched forth their 
 hands, as if to let the delicious heat soak into their half-numbed 
 limbs. They seemed positively greedy of the warmth, drawing up 
 their sleeves and trousers so that their naked legs and arms might 
 present a larger surface to the fire than even the wide and frequent 
 holes in their rags permitted. They appeared all as if longing to 
 stretch themselves like cats at full length before the stove. Not a 
 laugh nor sound was heard, but the men stood still, munching their 
 bread, their teeth champing like horses in a- manger. One poor 
 wretch had been allowed to sit on a form inside the railings, for he 
 had the ague, and there he crouched, with his legs near as a roasting 
 joint to the burning coals, as if he were trying to thaw his very 
 marrow. 
 
 Then how fearful it was to hear the coughing, as it seemed to pass 
 round the room from one to another, now sharp and hoarse as a bark, 
 then deep and hollow as a lowing, or — with the old — feeble and 
 trembling as a bleat. 
 
 There were boys of ten, like dwarfs of twenty ; and old men, with 
 the bent kangaroo-like hands and drivelling mouth, so indicative of 
 idiocy. Every one seemed to have been made apathetic by long 
 misery ; even strong, stalwart fellows sat in lumpish silence, staring 
 vacantly at the floor (for your true vagrant's mind is a dull blank) ; 
 whilst others, who were footsore and worn out with their day's 
 tramp, were busy unlacing their stiff, cast iron-like boots. 
 
 " What makes you shiver so, my man ?" asked the superintendent 
 of a vagrant-looking old creature, whose whole body seemed to shake 
 like a jelly, and whose hand, as he tried to cut his bread with his 
 clasp-knife, trembled as if he were erasing a blot rather than carving 
 his food. 
 
16 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " We-e-ell it's the co-o-old I've got in me, master, and I ca-a-an't 
 get it out of my bo-o-ones, do what I will. I've got a drea-a-adful bad 
 leg, too-o-o. I'm going on for sixty-five year-r-r, and I can't get my 
 pa-a-arish to take me no-ho-o-ow." And then, as if he were as proud 
 of his sores as a warrior of his scars, he, with his bread still in his 
 hand, raised his trouser and exhibited an ulcerous leg that sickened 
 you to look at. 
 
 As the superintendent and the visitors walked round the ward on 
 their way back, they found many of the inmates already stretched in 
 their bunks, with the leather rolled round them, till they looked more 
 like huge brown paper parcels than sleeping human beings. 
 
 " The other wards, gentlemen," said the official to the strangers as 
 they passed along, " you'll find just the same in appearance and prin- 
 ciple as this. We have two of them above — the ' chapel ward ' and 
 the 'upper ward,' as we call them — only the chapel ward is for the 
 better sort of men, and the upper one for women. All these 
 gangways between the bunks, where we are now walking," he con- 
 tinued, " will be sure to be filled up on such a bitter night as this 
 before twelve o'clock, so that the floor will be entirely covered with 
 some hundreds of poor destitute creatures, who must, perhaps, have 
 perished with cold if it hadn't been for our institution. 
 
 "That man sitting up in his bunk," went on the officer, "is a 
 cripple, and he's always one of the first to turn in, exactly in that 
 place, because he gets out of the way there, and nobody has to step 
 over him." 
 
 Presently they passed one of the thermometers affixed to a wooden 
 pillar. The officer looked at it for a moment, and then shouted 
 across the room to one of his assistants, " Come, I say, make up the 
 fires ! this won't do ! we're only at 45 instead of 60, and there's too 
 much coughing by far." 
 
 At this point a messenger from the outer office approached the 
 official, and said, partly aside to him, " There's a policeman, sir, at 
 the gate, has brought a woman along, whom he says he found half 
 frozen on a door-step. She seems a better kind of person." 
 
 " Yery well," answered the head officer ; " take her name down, as 
 usual, and let her go up-stairs to the chapel ward, and I'll see her 
 directly." 
 
 " The policeman says, sir, he thinks she wants food," continued the 
 messenger. 
 
 "Indeed," replied the officer; "then you had better tell the 
 matron to give her a basin of gruel directly, and not wait for the 
 doctor's seeing her." 
 
 " Now there's an instance of the good we effect, gentlemen," he 
 added, turning to the visitors. " "What would a poor creature like 
 that have done if it hadn't been for some such charity as this ?" 
 
 The chapel ward is the place whither all fresh applicants are sent 
 to be examined by the doctor, previous to admission for the night. 
 This ward was the same long, bare, and binned-off apartment as the 
 lower one, but, owing to the pile of forms used for divine service on 
 the Sunday, and which are stacked up out of the way, one on each 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 17 
 
 other, on the week days, as well as the academy-like tall desk near 
 the stove in the centre of the room, it had much the look of an empty 
 day-school. The only evidence, however, of the ecclesiastical character 
 of the place was a clumsy brown pulpit, as rude as if it had been made 
 by a packing-case maker. 
 
 Here, on forms, sat the fresh cases of that evening, the males on 
 one side of the room and the females on the other, whilst the doctor 
 stood at the desk with his minute-book open before him. " Now 
 then, the male cases," he said ; and the men advanced in single file. 
 His assistant at his side cried, " Come along, show the back of your 
 hands and open your fingers well ;" and immediately afterwards he 
 held a lighted candle close to the skin of each, as they stretched out 
 their arms for examination. 
 
 " Now then, the women, come along !" called out the assistant- 
 And instantly the long line of wretched outcasts rose as suddenly as 
 if a hymn had been given out. 
 
 At the end of the form the woman who had been brought there by 
 the policeman had been sitting — as far apart from the others as the 
 limits of the bench would admit of. "When the signal was given for 
 them to come forward, she rose a minute or two after the rest, for 
 she had been roused from brooding over her misery only by the noise 
 of her neighbours' feet. And when she stood up she hung her head 
 so that none could see her face. 
 
 " What are- the usual complaints of the people seeking shelter 
 here ?" asked one of the visitors of the doctor, who answered, as he 
 continued, half-methodically, his examinations. 
 
 " The most frequent are cases of exhaustion from exposure to cold 
 and privation, as well as ordinary colds and sore-throat, complicated 
 with affection of the chest, and so on. There, you see, is our medical 
 report for the last year, and that contains all I could tell you on the 
 matter." 
 
 The list of diseases was a fearful exposition of bodily ailment en- 
 gendered by want — a catalogue that even those who are too ready to 
 believe that the majority seeking charity are tricksters and cheats, 
 must have acknowledged as a solemn voucher of the privations en- 
 dured by the poor destitute and houseless wretches asking shelter at ^ 
 the asylum. For, as the eye ran down the list of bodily afflictions y 
 endured by the class, it read at a glance, even though informed by the 
 smallest medical knowledge, a tale of long agony, which is far beyond 
 fiction to rival. The many cases of "catarrh"" and "influenza," the 
 "rheumatism," "bronchitis," "ague," "asthma," "lumbago," "in- 
 flammation of the lungs," "diseased joints," "spitting of blood," 
 " cramps and pains in the bowels," all spoke their terrible testimony 
 of many nights' exposure to the wet and cold. Whereas the instances 
 of " abscesses," "ulcers," "diarrhoea," "low nervous fever," "atro- 
 phy," and " excessive debility from starvation" tol4>in a manner that 
 precluded all doubt> of the want of proper sustenance and extreme ,p 
 privation of those, the very poorest of all the poor. It showed, todf 
 that even the vagrant life of the tramp was sufficiently punished, so 
 that the sternest " economist" might have learnt some little charity 
 towards those who had done such bitter penance for their faults. 
 
18 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 By this time it had reached the turn of the last of the new comers 
 to approach the desk. She held out her hands methodically as the 
 others had done. The quick eye of the doctor noticed how thin and 
 spare they were, for the whole mechanism of the fingers seemed to he 
 visible under the transparent skin. He took her by the wrist, and 
 as he kept his fingers on her pulse, looked first at her face, then 
 glanced at her figure, and said, " My good woman, this is no place 
 for you — are you married?" 
 
 He had asked the question rather abruptly — in the ordinary way 
 of business — and he was somewhat surprised to see the colour mount 
 to the poor thing's cheeks with shame at the question. She, however, 
 replied plaintively, as she sighed and shook her head, "I wish I was 
 not." 
 
 " I didn't mean to wound your feelings," continued the doctor, in 
 a kindly tone, " but I saw no wedding-ring on your finger." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders, and replied, " I was forced to part 
 with that long ago." 
 
 The doctor called the superintendent, and drew him aside to talk 
 with him in private. After a time the official returned to the woman, 
 and said, " My good soul, it's against the rules of this institution to 
 receive anybody in your condition. I'll tell you. what we must do 
 with you. We shall give you a shilling, as we do others like you, so 
 that you may obtain a night's lodging somewhere, and then you will 
 have a settlement and a claim on the parish where you slept." 
 
 The woman grew blanched as she heard the words, and she stag- 
 gered back in utter despair. Poor thing ! she had already applied at 
 one "Union, and they had told her that she must go back to where she 
 had been born, for her settlement was there ; and she had heard that 
 at the asylum for the houseless cases were received which the work- 
 house refused, and now she learnt that the last refuge was denied 
 her, and she felt that nothing was left her but to die in the streets. 
 
 " If your case was very urgent we should send you to the hospital," 
 added the official, soothingly ; " but as it is, you had better rest here 
 awhile and have another ration of bread and some more warm gruel, 
 and then you'll be able to find a lodging for yourself." 
 
 The wretched creature thought what was to become of her when that 
 little shilling was gone, and she hid her face in her hands as she 
 sobbed convulsively. 
 
 The strangers, who had been watching the woman for some little 
 time, now stepped forward, and inquired the cause of her grief. 
 
 " Have you no friends or relatives living ?" asked one of them. But 
 the woman made no, answer, and looked proudly at the speaker, as if 
 questioning his right to pry into her misery. Then she buried her 
 face in her hands once more. 
 
 " "We would serve you if possible, my good woman," continued the 
 stranger; "so pray tell me, since you are married, where is your 
 husband ?" 
 
 She answered bitterly, as if stung by the remembrance of the ill- 
 treatment she had suffered, " He has deserted me after robbing me 
 of all I had." And then, as if fancying she had committed herself, 
 she added, " Ask me no more — ask me no more, I beg of you I" 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. * 19 
 
 The superintendent here interposed, saying, " "We had a case much 
 like this last year, — a very nice girl, who had run away and got 
 married against her family's consent, but we wrote to her friends 
 and got them to take her back again." 
 
 The woman shook her head as she heard this, and smiled at the 
 wrong guess they had made as to the cause of her misery. 
 
 " But youVe quarrelled with them at home, I know," said the 
 official. " Come, now, give me your parents' address, and let me 
 write them a nice, dutiful, and penitent letter for you." 
 
 " And let them know that their daughter is in rags, and beg- 
 ging for a night's shelter at the asylum for the houseless I" And her 
 lips worked convulsively in scorn at the proposal. 
 
 "Are your friends in a position to assist you if they chose?" 
 asked" one of the strangers. 
 
 The woman grew impatient at the continued questionings, and 
 looking at her interrogator said, reproachfully, " Oh ! can't you un- 
 derstand that when decent persons are driven here they wish to 
 keep their misery as secret as they can. If I had wanted to publish 
 mine, I could have gone round the town, from door to door, with a 
 petition filled with the whole particulars." 
 
 The gentleman was taken aback by the answer. He stammered 
 out some excuses, such as, " Really, you mistake me. Indeed, I am 
 the last man to " 
 
 Here the doctor and the superintendent drew near, and the latter 
 observed, "She stated at the door that she has passed three entire 
 nights in the streets — that she belongs to no trade or occupation — 
 that she's twenty-three years old, and that her name is Katherine 
 Merton." 
 
 "I gave my mother's name," she cried, looking up as. she heard the 
 last words. 
 
 The officials and visitors retired a short distance from her, and con- 
 sulted together. 
 
 "From her manner and expression," said one, " it is plain she is 
 respectably connected." 
 
 "You can tell that from her features and face," observed another. 
 
 " She is evidently in a state of great exhaustion from want, and in 
 a highly nervous condition," remarked the doctor. "Indeed, I would 
 advise that no more questions be asked her." 
 
 The superintendent exclaimed, " "We have many such cases here in 
 the course of the season— people in the last stage of destitution, 
 whose friends are not only well-to-do, but occupy high positions in 
 the country." 
 
 It was at last agreed, at the doctor's suggestion, that the poor 
 woman should be placed under the care of the house-matron, who 
 should make her a cup of tea, whilst the doctor prepared for her 
 a stimulating draught to recruit her sinking powers. 
 
 In a few hours afterwards the noise and chattering of the boys 
 below, and the gossip of the women above, as well as the squealing of 
 the beggar-children in the nursery, had all ceased. The more tidy of 
 the women, who had remained darning their gowns after they had 
 
 c 2 
 
20 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 taken them off for the night, had put their work away, and stowed 
 their letters and other humble treasures in the locker under the 
 wooden pillow at the head of their " bunks." The men had quitted 
 the warm fire and crept one after another to their berths, where, 
 rolled round in their leathers, they were sleeping as sound as squirrels 
 in the winter. The buckets of chloride of lime had already been 
 placed at intervals in the gangways to fumigate the wards ; the fires 
 had been banked up for the night, and the gas-lights had been lowered, 
 so that in the half light, as you moved about the silent, solemn place, 
 and saw the rows of tightly-bound figures, brown and stiff as mum- 
 mies, it seemed like wandering amidst some large catacomb. The 
 stillness was broken only by the snoring of the sounder sleepers and 
 the coughing of the more restless. 
 
 It was a marvellously pathetic scene to contemplate. Here was a 
 herd of the most wretched and friendless people in the world, lying 
 down close to the earth as sheep ; here were some two centuries of 
 outcasts, whose days are an unvarying round of suffering, enjoying 
 the only moments when they are free from pain and care — life being 
 to them but one long, painful operation, as it were, and sleep the 
 chloroform which, for the time being, renders them insensible. 
 
 The sight set the mind speculating on the beggars' and the out- 
 casts' dreams. The ship's company, starving at the North Pole, 
 dreamt, every man of them, each night, of feasting ; and was this 
 miserable frozen-out crew now regaling themselves with visions of 
 imaginary banquets ? — were they smacking their mental lips over 
 ethereal beef and pudding ? "Was that poor wretch, whose rheumatic 
 limbs rack him each step he takes — was he tripping over green fields 
 with an elastic and joyous bound, that in his waking moments he can 
 never know again ? Did that man's restlessness and heavy moaning 
 come from nightmare terrors of policemen and treadwheels ? — and 
 which among those runaway boys was fancying that he was back 
 home again, with his mother and sisters weeping on his neck ? 
 
 The next moment the thoughts shifted, and the heart was overcome 
 with a sense of the heap of social refuse — the mere human street- 
 sweepings — this great living mixen, that was destined, as soon as the 
 spring returned, to be strewn far and near over the land, and serve 
 as manure to the future crime crops of the country. 
 
 Then came the self-congratulations and the self-questionings ; and 
 as a man, sound in health and limb, walking through an hospital, 
 thanks God that he has been spared the bodily ailments, the mere 
 sight of which sickens him, so in this refuge fop the starving and the 
 homeless, the first instinct of the well-to-do visitor is to breathe a 
 thanksgiving, like the pharisee in the parable, that " he is not as one 
 of these." But the vain conceit has scarcely risen to the tongue before 
 the better nature whispers in the mind's ear, " By what special 
 virtue of your own are you different from them ? How comes it 
 that you are well clothed and well fed, whilst so many go naked and 
 hungry ?" And if you, in your arrogance, ignoring all the accidents 
 that have helped to build up your worldly prosperity, assert that 
 you have been the "architect of your own fortune," who, let us ask, 
 gave you the genius or energy for the work ? Then get down from 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 21 
 
 your moral stilts, and confess it honestly to yourself that you are 
 what you are by that inscrutable grace which decreed your birthplace 
 to be a mansion rather than a "padding-ken," or which granted 
 you brains and strength, instead of sending you into the world a 
 cripple or an idiot. 
 
 It is hard for smug-faced respectability to acknowledge these dirt- 
 caked, erring wretches as brothers, and yet, if from those to whom 
 little is given little is expected, surely, after the atonement of their 
 long suffering, they will make as good angels as the best of us. 
 
 That night the superintendent, whilst going round the wards for 
 the last time, said to the matron : " By-the-by ! about that young 
 woman whom the policeman brought here ; how was she when she 
 left ? Better— eh ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, she was much better — getting on very nicely, I may 
 say," was the answer. " She had a comfortable hot cup of tea and a 
 good warm beside the fire in my room — for I took her there, poor 
 thing, she seemed so decent like. I gave her the shilling to get her 
 bed with ; but she's as helpless as a child, and knows nothing about 
 London ways." 
 
 " Did she tell you anything more about who she was ?" asked the 
 superintendent. 
 
 " Yes, poor simple thing, she did," answered the dame ; " when she 
 got well warm, she had a good cry at being in such a place ; and as 
 I told her not to take on so, and that this world was only one of trial, 
 she began to talk away as if her heart was full to bursting, and she 
 was glad to find some one that she could tell her troubles to." 
 
 " Well, and are her parents well off?" asked the male official. 
 
 " Oh dear, yes," replied the dame ; " from all I could make out 
 they seem to be very rich and very proud — a good deal like that 
 black-haired girl's case that was here last winter — you know, the one 
 that had gone off with the play-actor fellow. But she didn't seem to 
 like to speak much about her home ; and do what I would I couldn't 
 get the address out of her. All the time she was talking about her 
 father's pride, I was saying to myself, 'You don't know it, poor 
 thing, but you're every bit as proud yourself — a chip of the old 
 block, as the saying goes — for she kept on protesting she'd rather die 
 of starvation in the streets, than ever go home again." 
 
 " It's very shocking to think of the pride of some people," observed 
 the superintendent. 
 
 " Ah !" sighed the dame, " we can none of us see the beam in our 
 own eye." Then she went on, " I only got her story from her by bits, 
 and all of a jumble like ; but what I gather is this : She was married 
 when she was very young to an Indian officer, and when he died she 
 came home a young widow thing, and had a good pension — enough, 
 indeed, to keep her quite independent-like of her friends, though she 
 went back to live among 'em." 
 
 " Well, what has she done with it ?" asked the superintendent. 
 
 "Wait a bit!" expostulated the dame; "you see this is how it 
 came about, as far as I can guess. After she had been home some 
 little while, she got to find the time hang heavy with her, and so 
 
22 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 began to take lessons in French of one of those refugee fellows who 
 had come and settled in her neighbourhood ; and then she got listen- 
 ing to the Frenchman's palavering when she .ought to have been 
 minding her learning, and the end of it was, there was a secret mar- 
 riage between 'em, quite unbeknown to her friends." 
 
 "Ah, I see!" cried the superintendent. "He was beneath her 
 station, and she was afraid to let her family know the imprudent 
 match she had made." 
 
 " No, no ! you're too quick by half," said the matron. " That was 
 only a small part of the reason, let me tell you, for her saying no- 
 thing about the wedding. You see the pension she was entitled to 
 as an officer's widow would have ceased directly it became known that 
 - she had married again ; so, naturally wishing to preserve her independ- 
 ence — for she knew her husband was too poor to maintain them 
 both — she would not let even her most intimate bosom friend know 
 of the marriage, lest it should creep out, and her pay be stopped at 
 the India House." 
 
 " And I suppose somebody found it out and went and informed 
 the authorities ?" speculated the superintendent. 
 
 "No; nothing of the kind," expostulated the dame. "Now you 
 really must allow me to tell the story my own way. Well," continued 
 the lady, sucking her mouth dry as if making ready for a long ora- 
 tion, and crossing her forefingers, " things went on as I have told you 
 without any one so much as dreaming of what had took place, until 
 the poor dear found she was likely to become a motherland at last it 
 got to be beyond the power of cloaks and shawls to hide her condi- 
 tion. Then there was a tremendous to do !" 
 
 "Dear me! dear me! I see it all!" cried the superintendent. 
 " They turned her into the streets and shut their doors against her. 
 Wasn't that it— eh?" # 
 
 "Do have a little patience — pray !" interrupted the dame, annoyed 
 at having the story " taken out of her mouth." " You shall know all in 
 good time. Her father seems to have been as hasty as he was proud, 
 and took up rash notions without inquiring whether they were true 
 or not. Seeing her in the situation she was, and of course knowing 
 nothing of the marriage, he began abusing her, and then and there 
 called her a shameless hussy, and threatened to turn his back upon 
 her." 
 
 " But what a silly girl!" exclaimed the officer. " Why didn't she 
 show the certificate of her marriage, and set it all straight at once ?" 
 
 " How you talk! Didn't I tell you she was afraid of losing her 
 pension if her marriage got abroad ? Besides, she was as proud every 
 bit as her father was," answered the dame ; " and, what is more, she 
 seems to have been quite as hasty, too ; for when he called her harsh 
 names, her spirit was up. So, as she knew she had been properly 
 married at the altar, and had a feeling that she was independent 
 of her family so long as her pension wasn't stopped, she packed up 
 her things, and oif she went, and lived with her husband, leaving her 
 relations to think just what they chose." 
 
 " Bless my soul !" explaimed the superintendent, " what mad things 
 a person's silly spirit will lead one to do ! And she might have cleared 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 23 
 
 it all up by one little word. And just see what it has come to, now. 
 Of course the French fellow ill-treated her after all ? for such matches 
 seldom turn out well." 
 
 " Ah ! poor dear, she's been punished enough for her headstrong 
 doings," sighed the pitying matron. "What strange romances do 
 turn up in this place to be sure ! "Well, as I was saying, she lived 
 with her husband away from home, putting up with the jibes and 
 taunts of the world for the sake of the man and the money that was 
 to keep them from starvation ; for when I tell you she had been his 
 only scholar, you may fancy his teaching business didn't bring in 
 much to the home." 
 
 " I should think not!" exclaimed the officer. ""Why, we've had 
 plenty of foreigners here who would have been glad to give lessons 
 in their language for a meal." 
 
 "Well, it soon came out, poor thing! what the Frenchman had 
 married her for," mournfully added the matron. " Of course Mr. 
 Mounseer had heard my lady had got a pension to her back, before 
 •ever he thought of making 3oyo to her ; and though, before the mar- 
 riage, she had explained to him that she would lose every ha'penny 
 she had if it ever came out that she was no longer a widow, yet they 
 hadn't been man and wife a week, before she got to see plainly enough 
 that the fellow didn't believe a word of what she had said to him, and 
 fancied she had made up the story just to keep the money in her own 
 hands." 
 
 " Well, well ! there's never a "sin committed but the punishment 
 is sure to follow," ejaculated the officer ; " and here it comes, I can 
 see." 
 
 " Even before she left her father's house," continued the matron, 
 " this man kept on worrying her to let him go down and draw some 
 of the money ; and he told her right out that he knew that as her hus- 
 band he was entitled to whatever property she possessed. However, 
 so long as she was at her father's he was a bit afraid to appear in his 
 true character, and he was kept quiet by a sovereign now and then ; 
 but no sooner had the noise took place and she gone to live with 
 him entirely, than he threw off the double-faced mask of caring for 
 anything but her money, and plainly said to her, in French, ' I ain't 
 going to be bamboozled, my lady !' So what do you think ? why he 
 takes all the money there is in the house at the time, and comes up 
 to London, and walks straight to the India House, and there, showing 
 the marriage lines as proof of his being her husband, demands that 
 the pension should be paid only to him in future." 
 
 "The mean hound!" the superintendent could not refrain from 
 exclaiming. " But the fellow bit his fingers nicely, of course ; for 
 such a step naturally put a stop to all money from that quarter." 
 
 " Think, though, of what a blow it must have been to her, poor 
 thing !" said the matron. " I'm sure I thought her heart would have 
 broke before me, as she told me how she had given up father, home, 
 and friends, for that man's sake, and how for him, too, she had put up 
 with taunts and suspicions that are the hardest of all for a woman to 
 bear ; and then for him to go away from her and leave her directly he 
 found that his selfish blunderings had made a beggar of her ! I dare- 
 
24 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 say, too, he was a good bit ashamed of himself, and didn't like to face 
 her after what he had done." 
 
 "Ah! not only that," interrupted the officer, "but it is clear 
 enough he married her only for her money, so as soon as he found 
 that there was none, why, of course my gentleman went off." 
 
 " If you had only heard her tell it all to me, it would have made 
 your eyes smart to see how she took on about the vagabond," said the 
 kind-hearted matron. "The silly thing must have loved him, of 
 course, or she wouldn't have made the sacrifices she had done on his 
 account. Well, when she found he didn't return home, she began to 
 think all sorts of things, and to get half crazy with his neglect of 
 her, especially in the situation she was. Still she wouldn't allow 
 herself to think bad of him, though she could hardly keep down the 
 suspicions that came up in her mind. Well, she waited and waited, 
 watching day and night for him to come back, and writing to him all 
 manner of imploring things to get him home again, until at last she 
 was fairly worn out ; and, as it was just upon the time for her to draw 
 her pension, she borrowed a few shillings, and came to London 
 herself." 
 
 "And [found out how she had been used by the fellow," guessed 
 the superintendent. 
 
 " Yes, indeed !" continued the dame, tossing her head. " She 
 hunted for him everywhere she could think of ; she went to all the 
 places she had heard him talk about ; but he was nowhere to be 
 found. Then, when quarter-day arrived, she set off to the India House 
 to receive her pension ! and then, poor soul ! what a thunderclap the 
 clerks had got to hurl at her. They taxed her with being married, 
 and said they were surprised at her boldness in coming there when 
 .she knew that her pension was forfeited." 
 
 " Bless me, it must have been a blow to her to lose both money 
 and husband the same afternoon, as it were," soliloquised the super- 
 intendent. " But at least it had the effect of opening her eyes to 
 the true character of the man." 
 
 " When a woman takes to a man, it's wonderful how slow she is 
 to think badly of him," moralised the matron. "This poor thing 
 stayed in town, still hoping to meet with him somewhere, for she 
 couldn't bring her mind to believe he had abandoned her. She lived 
 on her things, one going after another, as we well know is the case 
 with half the poor creatures who comes to us here, until at last all 
 was gone, and she was turned out of her lodgings for rent." 
 
 " Oh ! I've no patience with such folly," the officer exclaimed ; 
 " why didn't she write home ?" 
 
 The matron impatiently answered, 
 
 " How can you say that, when you know we have had scores and 
 scores here, who would sooner suffer all the agony of the sharpest 
 hunger and cold, rather than humble themselves by confessing the 
 degradation their folly and self-will had brought them to ? It's the 
 fear of being taunted that does it." 
 
 " And their own stupid, worldly pride, too," added the officer. 
 
 " But if you come to think of it," remonstrated the dame, " it 
 must be a dreadful struggle for those who have been well to do, to 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 25 
 
 bring themselves to write home to their friends and confess they are 
 starving in the streets. To have to put our address to a letter is a 
 terrible trial to stiff-necked people, even though they be in rags. Do 
 all I could— though I'm sure I talked, and begged till my tongue 
 was sore — I could not get that young woman to promise me she'd 
 write as much as a dozen words to her friends. 'No, that she 
 wouldn't,' she said, ' not even if it cost her her life !' I never set 
 eyes on such stubbornness of spirit in all my born days." 
 
 " Well, such people must pay the penalty of their own obstinacy," 
 exclaimed the superintendent. "But did she say anything about 
 calling again in the morning ? for those gentlemen that were here to- 
 day seemed to take great interest in her case, and wished to know 
 what could be done for her." 
 
 "Indeed I couldn't get her to make any regular promise," was the 
 answer ; " for though she didn't say she wouldn't come, still I'm sure 
 she is too much afraid of our finding out who she is ever to show her 
 face inside this asylum again." 
 
 CHAPTEE IY. 
 
 What a silent, dismal, deserted place is the City of London on a 
 Sunday ! 
 
 It reminds one of Defoe's description of the metropolis daring the 
 plague, when every shop and house was closed and barred, and the 
 citizens had fled to the suburbs. 
 
 On no other day are you made so conscious that nobody lives 
 there, for whilst in the other parts of the capital you catch, as you 
 walk the streets after church, the savoury fumes of the Sunday's 
 baked meats that men in clean shirt-sleeves are carrying steaming 
 through the thoroughfares, here no " bakings are carefully attended 
 to ;" and indeed, there is hardly a baker's shop to be seen, unless it 
 be such as drive a light-luncheon trade in buns, and biscuits, and 
 coffee, and which, though on week days they swarm with clerks thick 
 as flies about a tart-tray, are now closed up as tight as strong rooms. 
 
 Tou can tell now how few of the large blocks of houses are used 
 as dwelling-places by the citizens, for there is scarcely a wreath of 
 smoke issuing from the crowded stacks of chimneys, and the air is 
 clear and unfogged with the sooty fumes, so that you are startled to 
 be able to see from one end of Cheapside to the other, and wonder- 
 struck to find that the roadway — which the day before was so blocked 
 up with cabs, omnibuses, and vans, that you could almost have run along 
 their roofs like a line of housetops — is now nearly as open to the view 
 as a railway cutting. The pavements, too, that were yesterday black 
 with their jostling, hurrying crowds, are now scarcely speckled by 
 the few stragglers that saunter along them, whilst the one omnibus 
 
26 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 that creeps lazily on its journey lias hardly a passenger in it, and has 
 the whole street to itself as clear as a race- course. 
 
 At the Old Bailey; where, on other days, the carts of the suburban 
 carriers stand opposite the inn-yard, drawn up like a row of bathing- 
 machines, the cocks and hens are out in the roadway scratching up 
 the litter as in a farmyard ; and farther down, in front of the Criminal 
 Court, where, at other times, the entrance-door and the neighbouring 
 public-houses are thronged with troops of witnesses and suspicious- 
 looking prisoners' friends waiting the results of the trials within, 
 now the pigeons walk unscared along the causeway, pecking the dust 
 as they strut along ; neither is there any longer here a smell of hot 
 boiled beef, nor a cloud of steam issuing through the area-rails of the 
 adjoining eating-house, for the shutters are up there, and the linen- 
 jacketed man that, in a state of perpetual perspiration, carves the 
 ruddy rounds — big as butchers' -blocks — behind the window, is now 
 away airing himself, maybe, in the river's breeze upon the halfpenny 
 boat. 
 
 "Where are the colonies of clerks that yesterday you noted filling 
 the dining-rooms in Bucklersbury, or feasting on their " half steak" at 
 Joe's, Ned's, Sam's, or any other of the familiar tribe of Christian- 
 named chophouse-keepers ? — where the army of porters and ware- 
 housemen that worked at each block of buildings round about St. 
 Paul's, peopling every floor as thickly as sailors do the decks of a 
 merchantman ? — where the colony of bankers, merchants, factors, and 
 brokers that gobbled their soup at Birch's, or took their sandwiches 
 and sherry at the South American, or teased their stomachs with the 
 cream-tufted tarts at Purcell's ? The Bay-tree, too, is closed, and not 
 a City man stands eating his shilling snack " hot with vegetables" at 
 the counter ; the Lombard- street taverns, moreover, with their por- 
 tions of pink pickled salmon spotting their pewter bars, have put up 
 the chain and locked their doors, whilst the proprietors have driven 
 out in their light "shay" traps to drink tea at Hampstead, Kew, or 
 Harrow. 
 
 As you walk along the deserted streets, and glance up at each 
 floor, you never see a human head at the windows ; nothing, indeed, 
 but piles of goods, as if the shops had started to the upper stories 
 as in a pantomime trick. The iron venetian-blind-like shutters are 
 down before every shop-window, ribbed as the sail of a Chinese 
 junk, while before them slants the daylight reflector, casting its 
 patch of brilliance vainly on the closed shop fronts. 
 
 It is almost impossible to recognise Thames-street again, for the 
 wharves along the river-side have the gates all closed, except where 
 the little wicket is left ajar ; and down the yards of some of these 
 you can see the huge empty waggons, with their thick shafts 
 turned back and" pointing high in the air. Here, too, the cranes, 
 that on a week-day project like iron gibbets from every floor, 
 are turned on one side, in the same manner as the crutch for 
 the bottle-jack is bent back to the chimney-piece when the roast- 
 ing has ceased. The carts no longer block the road, nor are 
 there huge bales dangling, like monster money-spiders from a thread, 
 and swinging in the air. At the Coal Exchange, the only thing 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 27 
 
 stirring is the weathercock, and the office desks, seen through the 
 windows of the floors above, look as deserted as those in a schoolroom 
 during the holidays. On the other side of the way, Billingsgate is 
 lonely and empty, and has a dreary, cloister-like stillness about it ; 
 and where but lately the air rang with a positive Babel of voices, you 
 can now hear a whistle echo against the metallic roofing of the broad, 
 expansive shed. The benches and stalls are packed on top of one 
 another, like old discarded tables in a lumber room ; and as you look 
 down into the basement through the square opening in the paving, 
 that seems like the hatchway to a ship, you see the huge empty shell- 
 fish tubs, giving the place the look of a large laundry out of work, 
 rather than being the periwinkle and whelk portion of the market. 
 
 Now step down to the floating-pier and see what a change the day 
 of rest has made in the traffic of the river, as well as the shore. So 
 doubly silent is " the silent highway," that the birds chirping among 
 the Old Exchange statues at Nicholson's wharf sound as noisy as the 
 aviary at the Pantheon. There is not the flutter of a paddle-wheel, 
 nor the roar of the escape-pipe to a newly-arrived steamer to be 
 heard ; but the rushing of the tide chafing against the bridge piers 
 gurgles in the ears, broken only by the barking of the curs — noisy as 
 alarums — that are left alone on board the lighters to guard such as 
 are moored close to the shore. 
 
 There is " no admission for visitors" at the docks on Sunday, and 
 the big gates are closed, so that the little side door alone is left ajar 
 for the ingress and egress of seamen, whilst the alphabetic warehouses 
 seem still, moody, and closely barred as hulks ; and in the unfre- 
 quented roadway outside the walls, a gang of young thieves from the 
 purlieus of Eosemary-lane are playing " chuck ha'penny" without the 
 chancy of a passing waggon to interrupt their game. 
 
 Even money, too, seems idle on the day of rest. The Bank of 
 England, squat as a cash-box, looks positively as if it were " to let," 
 and you expect to see bills posted up at the various corners announc- 
 ing the forthcoming sale of " the valuable effects." The coffers of the 
 world now seem to be closed as a worked-out mine, and you wonder 
 whether the great draining engine of five per cent, has ceased work- 
 ing or not. "Who passes his Sunday within this citadel of wealth ? If 
 you were to pull the bell, would anybody answer it ? Who ever saw 
 the Bank of England servant taking in the milk ? or a butcher's cart 
 or baker's truck waiting at the area gate, even on a week day ? Is 
 the man who guards the building on the Sunday twin-brother to the 
 keeper of Eddy stone. Lighthouse ? and is he too left there for four 
 weeks at a time to wander alone about the desolate place ? 
 
 "Where have the silver-haired, prim-looking bankers of the de- 
 serted Lombard-street flown to ? and where are the Exchange men 
 that but yesterday crowded the quadrangle ? Look through the 
 iron gates and you will see the poor statue of Queen Yictoria as 
 lonely as a scarecrow in a corn-field, and the whole place as desolate 
 as ruins after a fire. 
 
 Then London Bridge, the main duct of all the metropolitan traffic, 
 where policemen, like dyke inspectors in Holland, are stationed to 
 see that the great commercial tides setting in from Middlesex and 
 
28 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Surrey flow on quietly without breaking down the restrictions of 
 the City ; this immense thoroughfare is now so clear of vehicles that 
 fathers walk with their children in the roadway ; and on the other 
 side of the water, so completely has the business of the week ceased, 
 that a street-seller has erected her stall on the entrance-steps of 
 " Hibebnia Chambers," and the piled-up oranges, ranged in little 
 pyramids, like golden cannon-balls, rest against the closed massive 
 doors; for the hop-merchants that rent the offices of the palatial 
 building have forgotten all about their " pockets" for a time, and left 
 the chances of " cent, per cent." to the fruit- woman. 
 
 As you enter the narrow passages of Leadenhall-market, you 
 startle maybe some bone-grubber, carrying a rush hand-basket, and 
 who seems to have been taking advantage of the solitude of the 
 Sabbath to purloin a slice of meat from the two or three carcases 
 that are left hanging in the open space. Here, too, the long rows of 
 unoccupied butchers' hooks seem like the hat-pegs at a bankrupt 
 railway hotel, and the narrow arcades of shops, with their shutters 
 up, have the appearance of some deserted Indian bazaar. Not a 
 footfall is heard upon the pavement, and the piano at the licensed 
 game- dealer's, jingling forth the 100th Psalm, fills the place, like an 
 empty room, with its sounds. 
 
 Indeed, go where you will — to "Whitechapel shambles, or the 
 Temple — walk down Cannon-street, Barbican, or Bishopsgate — or 
 visit the busiest of the public offices, such as the Post-office or the 
 India House — all is as quiet and deserted as if it were some two or 
 three hours after midnight, rather than only an hour or two after 
 noon; so that you might fancy you were wandering through the 
 sleeping city of the fairy tale, and that all the bankers, merchants, 
 and brokers, as well as their attendant army of clerks, shopmen, and 
 porters, were slumbering in their chambers, as if spell-bound with 
 the magic trance. 
 
 But if the streets appear thus desolate to those who welcome the 
 Sabbath as a day of rest and home retirement — how fearfully lonely 
 and sad must the City seem to the poor creatures who, without a 
 shelter to hide in, are forced to wander out the day, waiting impa- 
 tiently for the night to come and screen their wretchedness with its 
 darkness. On this day, when even the humble manage to put on 
 clean linen, and unshorn beards have entirely disappeared, how 
 shame-stricken and heart-broken do those wretched beings seem who 
 have to shuffle along the pavements in their every-day rags, wearing 
 the one dust-coloured suit of tatters that even on the week day made 
 the passers-by shrink from them with the fear of contact. 
 f There was one miserable soul who crept along the forsaken path- 
 ( ways, seeking only those streets where the warehouses lay the thickest, 
 and glancing down each turning before she entered it, to make cer- 
 tain that she would meet with none better clad than herself. Occa- 
 sionally she rested for awhile in the corners of gateways or crouched 
 ton steps with her head on her knees, remaining motionless as if in a 
 deep slumber. 
 
 After paying for her night's lodging she had eked out what was 
 left of the shilling she had received at the asylum for the houseless, 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 29 
 
 eating only when her hunger grew painful, and allowing herself 
 scarcely more than the rations dealt out to a shipwrecked crew. She 
 felt hourly that her strength was failing her, and that both reason 
 and body were giving way with her pangs. 
 
 In the early morning — for the night had been passed dozing in a 
 coffee-shop — she had crawled about the "West-end ; but as the day ad- 
 vanced, and the cleanly-dressed people began to stir abroad, she had 
 .gradually crept away before them, and so reached the lonely City. 
 Whilst the crowds were flocking to church she hid herself down 
 mews, and when the bells had ceased ringing she slunk forth again, 
 and stole cautiously into one of those odd, out-of-the-way City 
 churches, with a burial-ground like a back garden up a court, and 
 whose congregation is always about as numerous as the audience to a 
 scientific lecture at a mechanics' institution. Here she slided to the 
 least conspicuous of the free seats and tried to pray, but the place 
 was warm to drowsiness, and tired and faint as she was, the hum of 
 the organ lulled her to sleep. 
 
 It had thawed during the day, but as the night came on, the sky 
 grew clear and starry and the air keen and frosty, so that in a few hours 
 the pavements were a sheet of glass, and the lumps of mud as hard and 
 sharp as the slag of a foundry. The street slush had, during her Sun- 
 day's pilgrimage, oozed through the gaps and holes in her burst 
 boots, and as the cold of the night returned, her wet stockings froze 
 to her chilled feet and wounded them at each step she took. 
 
 Now she had not even a penny left to pay for the cup of coffee 
 that would have entitled her to a short slumber at the night houses 
 with her head upon the table. She counted each hour through the 
 night, as does a sick person restless with a fever, and heard the hun- 
 dred steeples of the City chiming the time, in the darkness and 
 chill of the early morning, until she thought the sunlight would 
 never come again. 
 
 As the air seemed to grow colder than ever at the fag-end of the 
 night, and the streets had long been rid of the few remaining 
 brawlers, leaving her the only wanderer through them, she grew 
 more wretched and desperate than ever. Driven by the policemen 
 from door-step to door-step, and finding that she was not allowed to 
 sit, much less sleep, in the thoroughfares, she began to think it 
 better to end such a life as hers, and sauntered on, shuddering, to- 
 wards the river. But when there, the water was like a sheet of steel, 
 and looked so witheringly cold as her mantle flew open in the nipping 
 breeze, that her timid resolves took flight, and she felt she lacked the 
 courage, even though heart-broken and half-frozen as she was, for 
 such a death as that. 
 
 So on she wandered again, half sleeping as she walked, and trying to 
 find some hidden corner where, unseen by the policeman, she might 
 doze against the wall, until at length the reviving bustle of the market 
 carts roused her from her stupor, and she was filled with hopes, almost 
 as faint and comfortless as the cold morning light, that some lucky 
 accident might happen to her in the coming day. 
 
 How that day was lived, through it is difficult to tell. The poor 
 soul had already been thirty odd hours adrift in the streets without 
 
30 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 food or sleep, or even "rest. Still, while the daylight lasted, and 
 London was alive with the rattle of its traffic, she staggered along, 
 borne faintly up by the continual excitement of the passing throngs, 
 and feeling still a half presentiment that she would meet with her 
 husband somewhere among the crowd. 
 
 But when she saw another night beginning to dusk the air, and 
 the lines of street-lamps starting one after another into strings of 
 light, she felt no longer faint and torpid, but grew positively furious 
 with the frenzy of the thought of passing another such a time in the 
 streets. Moreover, the sky was overcast, and the half-melted snow- 
 flakes fell now in a shower of sleet, that, as it beat against the face, 
 stung the skin with the sharp splinters of ice mixed with the rain. 
 
 Then, more terrible than all, she began to feel that another life 
 besides her own was at stake, and to be roused with all the madness 
 of maternal instinct lest any danger should befal her child. 
 
 "Whither could she crawl to hide her head at such an hour ? What 
 place would open its doors to receive her ? She had been turned 
 from the workhouse, and dismissed with a shilling from the last 
 haven of all — the asylum for the houseless. 
 
 It was no time for seeking shelter as a charity : she must have it, 
 even -though it be adjudged to her as a punishment. It had been 
 refused her as an act of mercy to herself; it should now be forced 
 upon her as an act of justice to others. 
 
 The first thought was to do as she had read of women doing when 
 rendered as desperate as herself; and, stung by the anguish of, the 
 moment, she seized a stone from the newly-macadamised road, and 
 was about to fling it at the first street lamp. But then came the 
 thought that perhaps the authorities might take pity on her for so 
 trifling an offence ; so, turning round, she flung the stone with all her 
 remaining strength at the first brilliantly-lighted window that caught 
 her sight, and shattered a huge sheet of plate glass — as big as a mas- 
 querade posting-bill — that adorned the showy front of a neighbouring 
 shawl and mantle warehouse. 
 
 At the sound of the crash and rattle of the glassy fragments, a 
 crowd of shopmen rushed into the street ; and on the woman confessing 
 herself the offender, it was but the work of a moment to hand her 
 over to the police, whilst the enraged proprietor vowed " that if it 
 cost him a hundred pounds, she should have three months of it." 
 
 And the tradesman was true to his word. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE RELEASE. 
 
 " "What, Simcox, my boy, who'd have thought of seeing you ?" 
 " Bless my heart ! why it's Mr. Nathan, as I live !" 
 These gentlemen met outside Tothill-fields Prison. Mr. Simcox, 
 of the firm of Simcox, Son, and Nicholls, had his hand on the prison 
 knocker, ready to lift the two hundred-weight of metal, when the ap- 
 proaching figure of Mr. Nathan, of Lyon's Inn, startled him from his 
 purpose. • 
 
«** 
 
 

 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 31 
 
 "This is the very last place where I should have thought of 
 meeting you !" exclaimed that ornament to his profession, Simcox. 
 
 " And I certainly never expected to see you here," returned the 
 buckish Israelite. 
 
 "If it a'n't impertinent, may I. ask what brings you to these 
 parts?" 
 
 " Well, do you know, I was just going to put the same question to 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, I've come about a poor woman who has got into trouble." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! and my case is with a female too." 
 
 " The girl Tve come about is here in the name of Katherine 
 
 Katherine — let me see — what's her other name ?" 
 
 " It isn't Merton, is it ? Tor that's the one I want." 
 
 " Dear me ! this is strange. That's the very party I'm after, 
 sure enough." 
 
 " How remarkably odd ! If it's a fair question, who are you 
 concerned for ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly — without prejudice, you know ! I come here on, the 
 part of the husband." 
 
 "The husband! He's a Frenchman, isn't he? Used to teach 
 languages, I. think? Well,. I'm instructed by the family — very old 
 clients of mine, and highly respectable people." 
 
 " And wkat do they want to do with the girl ?" 
 
 " I really don't think I should, like to go so far as to answer that 
 question." 
 
 " I don't see that it can prejudice your case at all, for I am quite 
 decided as to the course J shall pursue." 
 
 " I tell you what," proposed Simcox, " you tell me. and I'll tell 
 you — that's fair." 
 
 "Without prejudice, of course?" 
 
 " Certainly ! Well, I have come here to pay the fine, and release 
 her." 
 
 "You surely must be joking — that's just my errand." 
 
 " Bless my heart, you don't say so ! And what do you propose to 
 do with her when you get her out ?" 
 
 " Well, as we are to be frank, the husband wishes to have her sent 
 over to France to him. He has taken a singing coffee-house — a cafe 
 shontong, as they call it — and " 
 
 " Ah, I see ; and he thinks, as Katherine is a pretty girl, she'd look 
 well sitting behind those portions of lump sugar, and taking the money 
 for him." 
 
 " And what does the father mean to do with her, eh ?" 
 
 " Why, I am to send her down to an aunt of hers in the country, 
 and I believe she is to be despatched to Australia." 
 
 " Tou speak as if you were sure to have her. Tou forget the hus- 
 band has a prior claim." 
 
 " We deny the marriage !" 
 
 " And we are in a position to prove it. I have a copy of the 
 certificate among the papers that my client has sent me." 
 
 " Nonsense ! that fellow was villain enough to forge any document." 
 
 " I tell you it was a oonafide marriage." 
 
 "Pooh! pooh!" 
 
32 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " I intend to claim the woman on behalf of the husband." 
 
 " And I shall go in with you and serve the prison authorities with 
 notice, that if they deliver her up to you, they'll do so at their peril." 
 
 " Well, well, we needn't quarrel about it here." And so saying, Mr. 
 Nathan gave a heavy knock at the door. 
 
 In a moment the ponderous gateway was open, and the two soli- 
 citors were ushered into the clerk's office at the side. 
 
 Both, in their impatience, began shouting at the same time, " I've 
 called to pay the fine " 
 
 " One at a time, gentlemen," interfered the steady-going clerk. 
 
 " In the case of Katherine Merton," said Mr. Simcox. "I give 
 you notice that you do not hand over the body to Mr. Nathan 
 here " 
 
 " And I have come to give you similar notice not to part with her 
 to this gentleman ; I claim her on behalf of the husband." 
 
 " And I deny that there is any husband at all, and come here on 
 the part of the father." 
 
 " Come gentlemen, you needn't quarrel about it," said the clerk, 
 solemnly, "neither husband nor father can claim her now." 
 
 " She hasn't been released ?" asked the lawyers in one breath. 
 
 The clerk answered, gravely, " She was buried this morning." 
 
 " Grood Heavens !" cried Mr. Simcox, starting back. 
 
 "Dear me! what an awful thing!" said Nathan, turning pale. 
 " "We have no power now, Simcox, so we had better go and have a 
 glass of sherry together, for the shock has made me feel quite faint." 
 j They were about to quit the office, when the clerk called after 
 them : " By-the-by, gentlemen, there's a baby — a little boy — that 
 Katherine Merton has left behind her. "What are we to do with 
 him!" 
 
 " Boy!" they both exclaimed, as they stared at one another. 
 
 Then Simcox said : " Oh, he belongs to the husband, clearly !" 
 
 "Husband!" exclaimed Nathan. "Why, you denied the mar- 
 riage just now. He'd better be sent home to his mother's family. 
 Couldn't be in better hands, I'm sure." 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," said the clerk, " settle it amicably between 
 you ; which shall we hand the infant over to ?" 
 
 " Oh, I've no instructions on the matter." 
 
 " And I'm sure I've none." 
 y*T " I am 'certain my clients are of too high standing in the world to 
 countenance any child of sin born under such disgraceful circum- 
 stances !" exclaimed the moral Simcox. 
 
 " And I expect my client," tittered the wily Nathan, " will be 
 only too glad to get rid of the burden." 
 
 " But will you leave the addresses of your clients, gentlemen," 
 asked the clerk, " so that we may communicate with them ?" 
 
 Both the lawyers seemed to consider such a proceeding perfectly 
 unnecessary, and precipitately left the prison. 
 
 Now what fate, reader, think you, would be likely to await a being 
 born under such circumstances, and in such a place ? To what end is 
 such a beginning likely to lead ? Is such a one likely to find the 
 streets of London " paved with gold ?" 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 33 
 
 2Sooit fyt JTtrst 
 
 YOUNG WORKHOUSE AND FATHER PARISH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "dragged u p." 
 
 An individual, costumed in a fashion which partook of the conjoint 
 characters of the police-inspector, the railway-guard, and the half-pay 
 officer, jerked at the long dangling bell-pull, beside the gate of a 
 large building, the architecture of which was of that non-ornate, 
 government-establishment, contract style peculiar to hospitals, pri- 
 sons, mad-houses, factories, and barracks. 
 
 That individual was a prison-warder, and that building a workhouse 
 — the workhouse of "St. Lazarus "Without." 
 y/ " The House" — as all the poor in the neigbourhood called it, speak- 
 ing of it as if there was no other house in the entire parish worthy of 
 consideration, and always prefixing the definite article to it, as mer- 
 chants talk of " the Bank" when referring to any of the places of 
 business belonging to Messrs. Coutts, Drummond, Hoare, Twining, 
 Rogers, and Co. — the House, we repeat, was of the true parochial 
 pattern, such as may be seen in almost any quarter of the metro- 
 polis. Had it not been for its high outer wall, it might have been 
 mistaken for an hospital ; but for its want of bars before the windows, 
 it might have been supposed to be a prison : if it had only had a 
 tall chimney- shaft, the stranger in London might have come to the 
 conclusion that it was an extensive factory ; or a couple of sentries 
 pacing in front of it, and a few pairs of regimental trousers drying 
 outside the windows, would have convinced the visitor from a garrison 
 town in the country that it was some barracks. 
 
 The little square wicket in the gate was opened, and a round, red 
 face appeared behind the gridiron-like bars. The eyes of the face 
 twinkled again as they glanced at the prison-arms on the warder's 
 stand-up collar, and the mouth was seen to expand into a grin as its 
 owner said : 
 
 " Now then, what's up ? You a'n't come after any of our chaps, 
 hare you ?" 
 
 The prison officer felt somewhat piqued that the "parish" should 
 
 D 
 
34 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 presume to address the " county" in so trifling a tone, and answered 
 as sharply as if he had been on drill — " Letter from the guv'nor." 
 
 The gate was unlocked, and, when the warder had passed through, 
 a woman carrying a child was about to follow, whereupon the work- 
 house porter thrust her back, saying : 
 
 " Now, young 'ooman, where's your rorder ?" 
 
 "A' right!" cried the turnkey, with true official elision. "One 
 of our female warders. Tou're to receive the body of this here 
 baby," he added, as he nodded at a long roll of clothes that the 
 woman was carrying under her mantle. 
 
 Now, if the male official had been roused at the porter's want of 
 proper respect for his superiors, the female one — who wore the full 
 uniform of blue-trimmed bonnet and green-plaid cloak, distinctive of 
 a prison-matron — grew positively crimson with indignation at the 
 idea of being mistaken for an applicant for relief. She felt, however, 
 that it was beneath her as an " officer," who had been " many years 
 in the service," to bandy words with a workhouse porter, much as she 
 might have been inclined to tell him u a bit of her mind." 
 
 Inside the workhouse-gate the Union character of the place was as 
 unmistakable as the Union Jack itself. Close beside the gateway 
 was the little square cottage of a porter's lodge, placed there like a 
 huge dog -kennel to guard the entrance. The big, brawny old 
 soldier who did duty as gate-keeper, had evidently been chosen with 
 a view to the overawing of " sturdy vagrants;" and though display- 
 ing but little softness in his nature, exhibited an odd fancy for 
 pigeons and singing birds ; for against his door-post a lark hopped 
 about upon a few square inches of turf, and the room inside the lodge 
 was as chirrupy as a barber's shop with its cages of linnets and 
 goldfinches, whilst the pigeons strutting about the large, bare, gra- 
 velled court-yard — as pompous and gorgeous as beadles — belonged 
 also to the official. 
 
 Across the yard was the big entrance-hall, where rows of black 
 leathern fire-buckets dangled from the ceiling, as at an insurance 
 office ; and once within this, the true character of the building was 
 made apparent to every sense. The nose could sniff pauperism in 
 the smell of bread and gruel which pervaded the air. The eye read 
 helplessness and poverty-stricken dependence in the crook-backed 
 old figures, tottering about, as if palsied with weakness, in their suits 
 of iron-grey ; whilst the ear recognised the same tale in the mumbling, 
 wheezy voices, the asthmatic coughs, and the occasional shouting of 
 the hale officials into the ears of the half-fatuous inmates — for all 
 about the place were " so hard of hearing" that they had to use their 
 hand as an ear-trumpet when spoken to. 
 
 To' cross that workhouse threshold was to step, as it were, into 
 another country, peopled only by beings in their second childhood ; 
 and the sight of such a multitude of old creatures, toddling along with 
 all the ricketiness of babyhood, set the mind wondering how so many 
 shaky greybeards — for all were far older and weaker than any seen 
 abroad in the streets — could ever have been collected together. It 
 was, indeed, a perfect museum of old age, where every variety of de- 
 crepitude might be noted and studied. A few of the inmates went 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 35 
 
 staggering across the sanded floors, propped on two sticks ; others 
 sat out on the yard-benches in the spots where the sun fell, hoping 
 to add a little heat to their expiring fires ; and many of these had white 
 nightcaps showing under their hats, as though they were always ready 
 for sleep, and fully prepared for the last long nap of all. 
 
 The prison officials were ushered by a trembling old pauper " mes- 
 senger" — who, by virtue of his office, had been promoted to the dignity of 
 an entire suit of cords, and looked not unlike a superannuated charity 
 boy — into the deserted board-room, where they were left for a while to 
 scan the " regulations concerning disorderly and refractory paupers," 
 or to study the " dietary tables," or else to pore over the maps that 
 hung round the room as thickly as show-boards at a railway station. 
 They had also time to contemplate the portrait of " Makoaeet Fle- 
 ming," who, as the inscription said, " died in this workhouse, aged 103 ;" 
 as well as to reckon, by the number of mahogany chairs drawn up 
 in single file along the walls, how many guardians were in the habit 
 of sitting, on full board days, round that ample green-baize-covered, 
 horse-shoe table, which, with the high-backed chair standing alone at 
 the upper end of it, seemed to fill the entire place. 
 
 In a few minutes the master entered with Hm -governor's letter 
 open in his hand. He looked at the baby, whose little chin the female 
 warder was now busy tickling, in the hopes of coaxing it into a smile, 
 and said : 
 
 " Oh, that's the child, is it ? It seems healthy enough ! No skin 
 disease, eh ?" 
 
 " It's as beautiful a baby as ever was born, bless its little heart !" 
 answered the female officer, as she continued to fondle the infant; 
 " and has all its limbs straight, thank goodness." 
 
 " The governor tells me here that its name is Philip Merton," 
 proceeded the master, glancing at the note. 
 
 "Yes; Merton was the name the mother was in by," replied the 
 woman; " and an exceedingly well-conducted person she was." 
 
 The master went on reading the letter, speaking aloud as he did so : 
 
 " * The mother died in prison of puerperal fever,' — ah ! — very good 
 — 'four days after the birth of the child,' — dear me! sad case — 
 very good — 'can't say whether married or not,' — hem — ah! very 
 good — \ reason to suppose the relations of t the mother are well off,' — 
 so — so, indeed — very good — ' but no clue as to their name, or where- 
 abouts.' Tut ! tut ! how unfortunate ; well, we must see whether we 
 can find 'em out, and make them pay for the maintenance of the child." 
 
 Then opening the door, he cried out : 
 
 " Here, Hogsflesh, ask the matron to be good enough to step. this 
 way." 
 
 "When that lady made her appearance, a conversation took place 
 as to whether any of the mothers then in the Union could be found 
 willing to nurse the child in addition to her own. 
 
 The matron ran over the names of several, and at last said : 
 
 " There'jB Mary Hazlewood ! I'm sure her little Bertha is no drag 
 upon such a strong, healthy woman as she is; and she'd be glad 
 enough to take the boy, I dare say, for the allowance of beer and 
 meat she'd get by it." 
 
 D 2 
 
36 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 The conversation was suddenly brought to a close by Hogsflesh 
 again appearing at the door, and saying, as he thrust his head in : 
 
 " Please, there's three ounces of wine wanted for the infirmary — 
 and quick, please." 
 
 It was, therefore, rapidly settled that the proposition should be 
 made to the before-mentioned strong and healthy woman, and the 
 female warder took her parting kiss at the plump cheeks of the 
 unconscious little outcast, prattling to it in childish language the 
 while; and even though it was fast asleep, telling it that they 
 would all come and see it, and bring it some nice playthings as 
 soon as it was old enough to use them. 
 
 In a short while afterwards the hungry little Philip was butting 
 his head like a young lamb against the side of Mary Hazlewood, 
 whilst his pauper foster-sister was put to suck her fist and sprawl in 
 the workhouse cradle at the foot of the woman. His prison baby- 
 clothes had been exchanged for the blue-and-white-striped frock and 
 the duster-like checked pinafore, composing the workhouse infant suit. 
 
 The " mothers' ward" (for so the room allotted to the women with 
 infants was calL_~ -i^ contradistinction to " the nursery," which was 
 set aside for such children only as were old enough to be taken from 
 the breast) was a kind of outhouse at the back of the " women's 
 side" of the building. The yard which led to it was appropriated at 
 once to exercising and the drying of the pauper linen. 
 
 The ward itself was a cleanly-looking, whitewashed room, of the 
 size of a three-stall stable, with a raftered roof showing above. 
 There was a strong smell of babies and babies'-food pervading the 
 place. On the hobs of the fireplace were rows of saucepans and tin 
 pannikins to keep up a constant supply of warm pap ; and the rails 
 of the high, guard-like fender were hung with an array of lilliputian 
 linen, such as shirts, hardly bigger than sheets of note-paper — socks, 
 but little larger than thumb-stalls — and coloured frocks, of about the 
 same size as the squares of chintz in a patchwork counterpane. The 
 room seemed positively crowded with cradles, for they were ranged 
 along the wall in lines like so many tiny boats drawn up on a beach. 
 
 Some of the little pauper infants were propped up in their cradles, 
 amusing themselves with the rude playthings that the mothers had 
 invented to quiet them. One had a rag-doll ; another was thumping 
 a tin plate, and crowing at the sound it made ; and a third was 
 rattling some pebbles in one of the pannikins. A few of the mothers, 
 with their babes in their arms, were walking up and down the room, 
 endeavouring to send them to sleep by patting their backs, and 
 hissing the while as a groom does when rubbing down a horse; 
 and others were seated on the benches with their infants in their 
 laps, jogging them on their knees to allay the fretfulness of teething, 
 whilst the poor little ones sat with their dimpled fists half down their 
 mouths, or else biting at their mother's finger as it rubbed their swollen 
 gums. 
 
 Yet many of the pauper mothers, despite the wretched character 
 of the place, were playing with their little ones, though hardly enter- 
 ing into the baby games. One, as she leaned back on the form, was 
 
1 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 87 
 
 teaching a bare-legged, half-dressed little thing to walk along her 
 knees and body up " Mammy's-hill ;V and another kept dabbing her 
 hand over her babe's mouth, in order to make it babble like the 
 bleating of a young lamb ; whilst a third was tickling her little one's 
 fat neck, and digging her fingers into the rolls of flesh, till it cooed 
 and gurgled again with infantine delight. 
 
 And yet there was a melancholy about the maternal fondling 
 at the pauper nursery that contrasted forcibly with such scenes in 
 the homes even of the poorest outside the Union walls. Not only 
 were no lullaby songs heard there, but every woman in the place was 
 satisfied that bitter misfortune, rather than any imprudence of her 
 own, had brought her to " the house," so that there was a gloom of 
 misery and persecution over all ; and, indeed, they talked among 
 themselves of little else than the neglect, trials, and privations they 
 had endured before coming to the Union. 
 
 Those who were married among the number told either how they 
 had been deserted by their husbands, or how their homes had been 
 broken up by ill-health or want of employment. One recounted how 
 her husband, who was a field-labourer, went out for a holiday, and 
 she had never "set eyes on him since;" another explained how 
 overwork had ruined her good man's health, saying that " the hours 
 with his light cart at the railway was too many for him." The un- 
 married mothers, too, had all the same tale of neglect and broken 
 promises to tell. As at a debtors' prison, indeed, the inmates, one f' J 
 and all, protested their ruin had been brought about by no failing of 
 their own. 
 
 One of the most melancholy and pathetic features of the pauper nur- 
 sery, too, was the very innocence of the babes, which in any other place 
 would have charmed you ; for, as j'ou were startled to see the mothers 
 apparently settled down to the wretchedness of the Union, rather 
 than being heart-broken with shame at the thought of being disco- 
 vered in such a home, so you were shocked and pained to find the little 
 ones laughing and playing with their workhouse toys, unconscious of 
 the degradation of their lot. Nor could you help pitying the wretched 
 mothers themselves. You knew that it is but mothers' instinct, even 
 for the vilest, to wish their offspring to be other than themselves — 
 for every woman, however lost to worldly pride, is at least ambitious 
 for her child, and would, if she had her will, have it begin life at the 
 very topmost " rung" of the ladder : what wormwood, then, must 
 it be to her soul to find him beaten down, as here, to the very dust, 
 even before the battle of life has begun, and degraded to the lowest 
 ranks ere he has done anything to forfeit his honour. 
 
 The life of a workhouse infant has as little variety connected with 
 it as that of a lighthouse keeper. The days of little Philip Merton 
 , came one after another, and were as similar in appearance as those in 
 a new diary, without an event worth noting to fill up the blank. 
 Even the old mill-horse is said to have enjoyed the pleasing relaxation 
 of turning the other way on the Sabbath, but to the Union babies 
 Sunday brought no difference to the week's monotony of periodical 
 pap and gruel. True, Sunday was white pinafore day, and there were 
 
m 
 
 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 no clothes then hanging to dry in the exercising yard; and the 
 workhouse chapel organ, too, might be* heard droning across the yard, 
 about as loud as the hum of a bumble-bee among the flowers : but 
 although the mothers told the children to " listen to the music," they 
 none of them, poor things ! knew what music was — for not even an 
 itinerant hurdy-gurdy was ever heard within the walls of St. Lazarus 
 Without ; nor had they ever seen a bumble-bee ; nor, indeed, a flower 
 (as nothing grew in that small Sahara of a gravelled yard) ; neither 
 was any living animal seen within the Union gates, beyond the tabby 
 cat out of the " old women's ward." 
 
 But the workhouse babes could not even enjoy the sports peculiar 
 to infancy, such as thrusting in their dolls' eyes, or sucking the tail 
 of a sucking-pig; for in St. Lazarus' s. Union the dolls' eyes were 
 stitched in black thread upon the rag faces ; and such delicacies as 
 sucking-pigs had never been heard of as forming part of the work- 
 house rations — even within the memory of Margaret Fleming herself, 
 who died, as we have said, aged 103. 
 
 Mary Hazlewood, with her two infants, had so much to do, that 
 tne days passed anything but slowly with her. By the time night 
 came round and she had the children cleanly dressed for bed — for 
 the washings were as regular as the meal hours — and cuddling one 
 another in their cradle, she was glad to sit down quietly beside them, 
 and darn their tiny workhouse clothes ; and then, as she saw their 
 hair mixing together on the pillow, she would declare that she was 
 getting to like that dear Phil almost as much as her Bertie, though 
 it wasn't doing right to her own flesh and blood. 
 
 The woman, indeed, belonged to a better class. Her husband had 
 been a seafaring man, and had gone out one morning — after a few 
 words, when rather the worse for liquor — to look for a ship, but had 
 never returned ; and whether he had deserted her, or stumbled over 
 the dock's side, she had been unable to learn. The birth of her 
 child had forced her into the workhouse ; but here she had conducted 
 herself so much to the satisfaction of the matron that, on the death 
 of the old woman who looked after the children in the upper nursery, 
 she was installed as nurse to the family of little two-year-old out- 
 casts. 
 
 By the time Philip had reached his second year, and had been 
 transferred to the upper nursery, he had, thanks to his foster-mother, 
 grown into a plump, healthy-looking child, and so fat, too, that he had 
 mere creases for joints and dimples for knuckles. His hair was light- 
 brown, while his skin was pinky and transparent, so that it had often 
 been a debate with the mothers in the ward, as to whether he would 
 grow up fair or dark. He was still too young for his features to have 
 any distinct mark about them ; nor did* they bear as yet any trace of 
 his father having been a foreigner ; though, perhaps, he was quicker 
 in his temper and more sudden in his affections than any of his little 
 playmates. He was a great favourite among the women, from his 
 pretty fresh colour ; and the matron, in her rounds, often pinched 
 his cheeks as she went by, and called him her little pet, with the 
 long, dark eyelashes. 
 
 The occasional visits, too, of the female warders from the prison, 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 39 
 
 served to throw, not only an importance, but a sympathy, about the 
 little fellow ; for it soon got bruited about that his mother had once 
 been "a lady," and had died in prison after days of destitution in the 
 streets. Thus he got to be the most petted of all the pauper children ; 
 and if ever he toddled to the other side of the yard, and paid a visit to 
 the old women's ward, there was almost a quarrel among the aged crones 
 there as to who should have him on her knee, or hold the cat for 
 him to stroke and pull about. And even when he went over there 
 with " sister Bertie," as he was taught to call her, the ounce papers 
 of brown sugar allowed to the poor old creatures were brought out 
 more as a grand feast for " Phil" than to please the little girl. 
 
 There were some fifteen wretched little pauper children in the 
 nursery. There was little Annie Inwards, who had neither father 
 nor mother — and there was Susey Collins, whose father had been 
 killed at the railway — and Billy Thompson, whose three little brothers 
 were in the Union also, but had been sent to the infirmary for ill 
 health — and Tommy Liddle, whose aunt wouldn't keep him any longer 
 — and ten or eleven others, all with some wretched story, which 
 affected everybody but themselves almost to tears. 
 
 But among* the number there were two for whom little Phil had 
 very different feelings. The one was Emma Dixon, a big girl of eight, 
 I whose mother wasn't " right in her head," and wouldn't let her go to 
 school ; and her the little fellow was almost as much afraid of as he 
 was taken with poor blind Willie, who had come out of " Pancridge 
 Union," as the women called it, and who had no other name that they 
 knew of. But this one, after Sister Bertha, he loved better than all 
 the rest — though he hardly knew why. When a mere baby, Phil 
 had been attracted towards the blind boy by the strange, wandering, 
 upturned look of his dead opaque eyes, and next to the cat, Willie's 
 eyes were the most curious sight for him in the place ; so he would 
 sit and watch the restless, useless eyeballs, and as they seemed to 
 turn back into the head, ask a thousand childish questions of the 
 afflicted little orphan. 
 
 When any strangers or guardians came to see the Union, Nurse 
 Hazlewood, as they called her now, and who had grown as fond as a 
 hen of her brood, would show their little chubby legs and arms to 
 prove they were " all well taken care of," impressing upon the visi- 
 tors that they were as "sweet and clean as a new pink" — and to 
 do the woman justice, she was as continually cleaning her little ones 
 as a cat does her kittens. 
 
 Eor three years Phil stopped in the workhouse, till, in his little 
 j mind, it was not only a home but an entire world to him. Seldom 
 did his walks extend beyond the limits of the exer.cising-ground, so 
 \ that he had no knowledge of nature, or hardly of mankind. So en- 
 tirely had his little life, indeed, been hemmed in by the Union walls, 
 that he grew up with a notion that there were only two classes of 
 people in the world — paupers and guardians; and, consequently, 
 when he and the other little ones were allowed, as a great treat, to 
 go out for a walk with Nurse Hazlewood, he would call every well- 
 dressed man that passed " a guardy," whilst every respectable dame 
 he pointed at as a " matey" — the nursery name for matron. 
 ■ 
 
40 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Nor had the little fellow any more vivid idea as to the necessity of 
 working in order to live. He had seen day after day go hy and some 
 three or four hundred people regularly supplied with food without 
 the least exertion on their part : and he had got to fancy that nature 
 sent breakfasts and suppers in the same way as she did light and 
 darkness. The only work of which he had any notion was washing 
 and cooking ; for he had often been into the laundry on one side of 
 the yard, and it was a favourite amusement of his to peep down into 
 the kitchen and watch the big cauldrons of gruel being stirred. Ac- 
 cordingly, the men he had seen working when out on his walks he 
 had fancied to be playing. Though, too, he had never asked himself 
 or any one else where bread or gruel came from, it is almost certain 
 that if he had been hard pushed on the subject, the boy would have 
 shown there was some vague idea lingering in his mind that quartern 
 loaves were obtained in the same manner as the paving-stones he had 
 seen dug up out of the roads ; whilst gruel, no doubt, he thought to 
 be as easily collected in tubfuls as the rain-water they caught for the 
 washing. 
 
 As for money, he had never even heard the chink of it, and had 
 a shilling been shown to him, he would probably have taken it for 
 one of the Union metal buttons. 
 
 \J "When little Philip had turned his third year, it came to the time 
 when he must quit the Union for the pauper farm-schools in the 
 suburbs. Little Bertha was to go with him, but blind "Willie and 
 Nurse Hazlewood, or " mother," as he called her — his only other 
 friends in the world — were to stay behind. The two children were 
 hardly aware that they were about to be taken away "for good;" 
 and as they were being dressed for their departure, they were full of 
 glee, under the idea that they were going for a short time outside of 
 the old brick walls ; so they laughed and clapped their hands, whilst 
 Nurse Hazlewood was sobbing so that she could hardly see to tie their 
 clothes for the tears that were in her eyes. She knew that she could 
 stop the leaving of her daughter, but over her foster-boy she had no 
 power ; and then came the idea that even if Bertha did remain with 
 her there inside those four high walls, she would grow up half silly, 
 like Emma Dixon, the crazy woman's child. The poor thing sobbed 
 and moaned as if her heart were breaking, but still she was deter- 
 mined, for the child's sake, to bear up against the agony of the part- 
 ing. 
 
 And when the time came for leaving, and she saw the two uncon- 
 scious children eager to quit her, she flung her arms round them and 
 pressed them to her till all the clean clothes she had been so busy ar- 
 ranging were crumpled and soiled with her affection. 
 
 They had at last to tear the children away by force, and as they 
 did so, she cried aloud, " I can never let them go, matron ; oh ! don't 
 take them from me." 
 
 In kindness the little ones were hurried away from her, and as the 
 door closed, the poor pauper mother flung herself on the table, and 
 bursting into a convulsion of grief, called God to help her, crying 
 aloud, " All's gone from me ! all's gone from me now ! I'm a lone 
 woman — lone — lone !" 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 41 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 THE PAUPER BOY'S NEW HOME. 
 
 Yotje true Londoner seems to have as little affection as a bird for 
 the place of his birth — the prevailing desire among Cockneys being to 
 get away from their parent metropolis, and settle down in some civic 
 country- cousin of a suburb. A statistical quidnunc has laid it down 
 as an ethnological law, that scarcely a Londoner can trace a pure 
 Cockney descent for three generations, urging that if the great- 
 grandfather of a family had been born within sound of Bow-bells, 
 the great-grandson seldom remains in the capital to inhale smuts with 
 his air, but retires to end his days in the land of pure milk and fresh- 
 cut vegetables. 
 
 We cannot say whether there be any general truth in the statist's 
 views of Cockney genealogy, but certain it is that London is becoming 
 more and more a city of warehouses, chambers, wharfs, offices, and 
 shops, rather than dwelling-houses and lodgings. Now that the 
 metropolis has been transformed into a huge spider's web, with rail- 
 way fibres radiating from its centre, the citizen, like the round-bellied 
 insect itself, builds up a little retreat on one side of the great web, 
 and is only seen to dart along the lines when there is anything " alive 
 and stirring" that promises a "good catch" for him. 
 
 It is this yearning for a mouthful of country air that sends the Lon- 
 doner — yellow and smoke-dried as a Finnie haddock — gasping down 
 to the sea-side every autumn, and it is a like craving to see more of 
 the earth and its vegetation than the disc of mangy turf within the 
 railings of a square that has caused the mushroom towns, with their 
 colonies of lath-and- plaster villas and tiny stucco mansions, to spring 
 into existence around every suburban railway station. 
 
 By means of fast " business trains," Brighton is now scarcely far- 
 ther from the capital "by rail" than is Hampstead by " 'bus ;" and 
 the longitude of Windsor, measured by time, is hardly greater than 
 that of St. John's Wood computed by the " City Atlas." And so it 
 comes that morning and evening trains, as long as sea-serpents, rush 
 up and down the line with each joint of their monster tail closely 
 packed with season-ticket-bearing merchants. 
 
 Near one of these small and new out-of-town towns was situated 
 the pauper school to which the hero of our story was consigned. 
 The town itself was as yet only in the bud, for many of the carcases 
 of the houses had hardly had time to blossom into villas. Every patch 
 of ground had a board up, announcing " This eligible site to be 
 let on a building lease." Of the residences already erected, the 
 larger majority were still unfinished, the works having been brought 
 to a sudden stoppage by the evident bankruptcy of the speculating 
 builder, and of these the " desibable caboases" were advertised for 
 
42 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 sale ; whilst the few tenements that had been completed and rendered 
 fit for habitation were in the excruciatingly genteel style of compo- 
 grandeur, and in the "florid Cockney order" of architecture. They had 
 all palatial porticos, and a double importance had been given to them 
 by the cunning of the architect, who, by building them in pairs, had 
 succeeded in imparting to two small houses the dignity of one large 
 one. Each couple of villas, too, had a carriage- drive, big enough for 
 a pony-chaise between them, and the little shrubs and delicate trees 
 in the strips of gardens were evidently only just out of the nursery. 
 Dotted all about was a thick sprinkling of public-houses, showing that 
 the place was a favourite resort for Sunday excursionists from London ; 
 and every one of the taverns had a grand balcony, fitted with benches, 
 at the first floor, besides a flat roof^ furnished with tables and a flag- 
 staff for the accommodation of Cockney smokers. 
 / The St. Lazarus Industrial School was a long building, as plain in 
 xy iter ircchiitjeUire iikd mek "mX as many windows as a contracting- 
 builder's factory. It was of red brick, with white trimmings, and 
 cocked-hat like pediments to the wings, that gave it a thorough 
 British regimental look ; and it stood on the top of a hill, surrounded 
 by its own grounds, and with an enormous central shaft rising above 
 its roof like a lanky lighthouse. It ha^nothing of the look of a 
 school, for there were no rows of white- curtained beds to be seen at 
 the windows ; so that you expected, as you went by, to hear the whir 
 of wheels and the clatter of hammers rather than the hubbub of chil- 
 dren at play. 
 
 On approaching the walls of the play- ground, however, the hum of 
 hundreds of voices burst on the ear like the roar of the sea heard 
 inland, and you saw hovering over the huge quadrangle behind the 
 building a multitude of paper kites of all shapes and sizes, that seemed 
 like so many birds poised in the air. The branches of the trees, too, 
 around the wall were garlanded with the tattered remains of kite 
 tails and bodies that had got entangled among the twigs, and made 
 them look, with the bits of paper and string clinging to them, as 
 untidy as old brooms. 
 
 In this building were housed some seven hundred children, who, 
 like young Phil, had been thrown upon the parish for support. 
 They were of all ages ; some so young that they could hardly walk 
 steadily, and others almost strong and expert enough to get a living 
 for themselves ; and they were of all castes, too. A few had fathers 
 and friends; though such parents were hardly worth the mentioning for 
 the assistance they could afford their offspring in the world, for they 
 were mostly paupers, like the children, whom poverty had stripped of 
 home and cut off from the claims and ties of kindred. .Fewer still 
 had relations who were in a position to visit them, and bring them 
 small tokens of remembrance — petty offerings that had been squeezed 
 out of the out-door relief, and yet were prized and envied as much 
 as any hamper of good things ever received at the most " select" 
 academy for young gentlemen. The majority of the pauper pupils, 
 indeed, were the mere waifs and strays of the world — social drift- 
 wood and salvage, cast upon the shores of London from the many 
 wrecks of the stormy city. Some of these were foundlings, wretched 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 43 
 
 little beings picked up on a door-step, for whom even parochial 
 vigilance could not trace a pedigree. Others were orphans in the 
 profoundest sense of the word, with only parish guardians for a step- 
 father, and who could never remember any home, nor, indeed, the 
 inside of any house but that of the Union. A large proportion, 
 moreover, bore the ironical stigma of being " love children," though 
 these had known so little of love in the world, that once got rid of 
 by their "unfortunate" mother, they had never seen her face or 
 heard her voice afterwards. , 
 
 The pauper school was the rag-fair of life, whither was brought 
 the refuse of society — the " things" that had been discarded as so 
 much lumber ; and, as in the old-clothes' market the mind wonders 
 what is the history of the leffc-off coats, trousers, bonnets, and gowns 
 collected there, as well as what possible use they can be hereafter 
 put to, so, in this assemblage of infant cast-offs, one cannot help 
 speculating as to the origin and ultimate destiny of the poor living 
 rags and tatters' that others have flung aside as being utterly worth- 
 less to them. 
 * 
 
 Of course, little Phil, mere babe as he was, was no more aware of 
 the misery and degradation of his position in the world than a lord- 
 ling in long clothes is conscious of the peculiar good fortune that 
 has befallen him. Young Phil sipped his gruel from the iron spoon 
 with an appetite as keen as that with which the sprig of nobility 
 sucks his " soojee" from his silver pap-boat; for such undeveloped 
 palates have not yet learned to discriminate between the vulgar and 
 refined flavour of the different metals in the mouth. Neither had 
 the little lad the faintest sense that the house he lived in was in any 
 way different from that of other people ; for, could he have expressed 
 his ideas on the subject, and generalised upon the rules of life, he 
 would as surely have laid it down that all children are born in 
 workhouses, as a savage would that blankets and rum are the 
 perfection of human luxury. Consequently, had Phil been made to 
 understand, while on his way to the St. Lazarus Industrial School, that 
 he was going to spend the next ten years of his life at a pauper 
 academy, he might have burst into tears at the tidings ; still, his 
 sorrow would have been caused by the thought that he was leaving 
 " home" and Mammy Hazlew r ood for good; for the Union was linked 
 in his little mind' with all that made life dear, while the workhouse 
 women, who had shared their ounce packets of sugar with him, 
 seemed to his purblind vision the most admirable and favoured of 
 human beings. 
 
 The old pauper, who drove the workhouse covered-cart in which 
 Phil and Bertha were being taken to the school, was an object of no 
 slight envy and importance in the little community of St. Lazarus, 
 getting, as he did, extra rations of meat and beer for the duty. He 
 was remarkable for the peevishness of old age, and, from a half-idea 
 that he was earning his living, had grown to have a contempt for his 
 fellow-paupers, as well as to treat them with all the tyranny of petty 
 authority. He seemed disgusted with the playfulness and restless- 
 ness of the children on the journey, for when they came near him, 
 
44 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 and shouted " Gee, gee !" to the horse, and touched the reins, or 
 wanted to handle the whip, he grew as growly as an old lapdog at the 
 tricks of a kitten, and cried out, " Lie down, or I'll give you a crack." 
 Nor was he more inclined to listen to their wonderings and prattle 
 by the way ; for when they beheld a fashionable footman for the first 
 time in their lives, and — taken with the bright colours of the livery, 
 as the man strutted, cane in hand, after his mistress — inquired if 
 he was not a beadle, the old pauper grew more surly than ever at 
 the mere mention of that despotic functionary, and, shaking the 
 children's hands off his shoulders, said, " Cuss all beadles ! — don't 
 bother me." 
 
 On reaching the suburbs, and seeing the cows grazing in the fields, 
 little Bertie, whose knowledge of natural history did not extend 
 beyond the cat in the old women's ward, clapped her hands and 
 jumped about, as she called out, " Puss ! puss !" 
 
 " Gro back'ards, will you !" snarled the old driver, angry at being 
 roused out of his half-doze over his pipe. 
 
 Then came a young ladies' school, with the little girls walking 
 two-and-two, and the tall mistress behind, whereupon both the chil- 
 dren seemed to fancy that the governess occupied the same position 
 as Mary Hazlewood had to them, for they exclaimed, at the top of 
 their little voices, " Nursey ! nursey !" 
 
 " Confound yer, keep quiet !" snapped the tetchy old fellow, as he 
 knit his shaggy eyebrows at the little ones, till he looked as grim 
 as a Skye terrier. 
 
 We need not impress upon the reader that when a child is taken 
 to a pauper-school, the reception is neither so endearing nor en- 
 couraging as that which usually occurs when any new "young 
 friend" is introduced to the classic head of a genteel academy. 
 
 At the St. Lazarus Industrial School, the new comers were shown 
 into no handsome reception-room, nor was any cake or wine had up 
 to stop the tears of the fresh pupils ; neither was Phil taken between 
 the knees of the master and patted on the head, nor told he would 
 one day become as distinguished a gentleman as his father. Not 
 that the children were ill-treated on their arrival at the pauper schools, 
 but rather they w r ere received in the regular way of business, and 
 little or no heed given as to whether they cared about coming there. 
 
 Poor Phil and Bertie, indeed, were handed from the workhouse cart 
 as unceremoniously as parcels from a railway van, and the same ticket 
 given with them in acknowledgment of their receipt. Phil heard 
 the superintendent read the piece of paper, beginning, " Please to 
 receive the following children" and saw him stare first at himself 
 and then at Bertie, as he muttered, " An orphan, and one other 
 child ;" but the poor boy could hardly tell what it all meant. He felt 
 frightened at the sight of the new faces and the big building, but 
 still he had no definite idea that the place was to be his home for 
 many a year to come, or that he was about to be separated from his 
 foster-mother. 
 
 "When, however, the grumbling old driver had mounted into the 
 workhouse van again, and the children heard the wheels crunch over 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 45 
 
 the gravel drive on its way back to the Union, both the little things 
 understood for the first time that they were to be left behind, and 
 struggled to get to the door, screaming the while, " Mamma, come 
 to me ! Mamma, come to me !" 
 
 A child's fears are always excessive, and seem to grown people, 
 from their intensity, like the caricatures of emotion, for with the 
 very young there is no judgment to check the imagination, and 
 fright once raised outruns all probability where there is no experience 
 to check it. Little Phil and Bertie trembled and sobbed as if they 
 had a confused notion that they were about to be killed. Every face 
 they saw seemed to be of the ugliest possible character to their 
 minds, for no matter whether it came smiling or frowning to them, 
 they screamed and roared as if it belonged to that ideal enemy of all 
 children, "Old Bogie" himself. If they had ever heard of fairy 
 tales — and among the illiterate paupers such nursery-book lore is un- 
 known — the little things would assuredly have fancied they had got 
 into the castle of the Ogre in Hop-o'-my-Thumb, or into the strong- 
 hold of the Giant in Jack and the Bean-stalk, and that all the chil- 
 dren w r hom they saw were intended to be eaten up alive. 
 
 First of all, they were half frightened to death by a tall woman, 
 who dragged them through long passages and up steep stone stairs to 
 a room, where their workhouse clothes were taken off, as if they were 
 really going to be murdered on the spot ; and they made certain that 
 such was to be the case, when, despite their screaming and cries for 
 Nurse Hazlewood, they were plunged into a bath full of hot water, 
 and there scrubbed till their skins and eyes smarted again with the 
 friction and the soap. 
 
 Nor was their confidence in any way restored when, dressed in the 
 school costume, they were taken into the infant playground, where a 
 hundred little things were playing about; for as soon as the new comers 
 entered, the others left off their games, and drew round them in a 
 circle, staring at them like so many sheep at a dog. Phil and Bertie 
 did nothing but cling together and cry, for they were too young even 
 to say a word of consolation to each other ; their little minds indeed 
 being filled with a dull blank of grief. At supper they left their slice 
 of bread-and-butter and mug of milk-and-water untouched, for then 
 they were scared by the sight of the fifty little ones gathered to- 
 gether in the nursery for the meal, and they had never seen so many 
 children assembled in one room before. Everything they saw and 
 heard, too, was so strange and different from the workhouse nursery, 
 that they sat with their fingers in their mouths, looking timidly and 
 wildly about them. 
 
 When the bell rang for bedtime, and they were taken up into the 
 infants' dormitory, where, instead of Nurse Hazlewood, a strange 
 woman came to undress them, their little senses once more noted the 
 difference of their situation, and their tears showed that they felt 
 they were never to see " dear mother" again. Then, as they cuddled 
 together, in one of the dumpy little iron bedsteads that crowded the 
 large sleeping-room, they twined their arms about each other's necks 
 as if they had really laid themselves down to die, like the children in 
 the wood ; and there they sobbed away till their tears formed a wet 
 
46 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 patch about their heads, so that the black lines of the tick could be 
 seen through the moistened pillow-case. 
 
 Before a week had passed, however, Phil had forgotten all the 
 miseries that had so nearly broken his little heart on entering the 
 school ; and ere long he had grown as attached to the place as he had 
 been to his former home, so that had anybody attempted to remove 
 him from his new one, he would most likely have felt the separation 
 as keenly as he did his departure from the Union. He soon became, 
 indeed, one of the merriest of the children there, for he made friends 
 among his little toddling companions, and slowly grew to be as fond 
 of his new nurse as he had been of his old one. His first year was 
 spent in the babies' room, and here he was the biggest of the boys, 
 for some of the others scarcely reached above the nurse's knee, whilst 
 he was just tall enough to look over the iron bars of the nursery 
 fender. 
 
 His life in this part of the establishment had little to distinguish it 
 from that in the workhouse, with the exception that at the in- 
 dustrial school the child's days were not utterly toyless — play- 
 things not being wholly unknown to the infants there. Over the 
 mantelpiece in the dormitory was kept the humble stock of pauper 
 playthings — a curious collection of broken penny articles and bits of 
 gilt paper, which, poor as it was, was yet more than the workhouse 
 itself could boast. There was a Noah's ark hardly bigger than a 
 baby's shoe, and a wooden money-box, like a miniature trunk, but 
 containing a few beads instead of coins ; and there was a cardboard 
 cottage, decorated with pith, and a cat without a head, besides a few 
 lids of old soap boxes, embellished with varnished pictures and gilt 
 borders, together with a little tin grate, and a baby dustpan. But 
 the grandest toy of all was the wooden horse, about as big as a pet 
 spaniel, which the chaplain had given the little things. To ride on 
 this was the great treat of the infants' room, and one which none but 
 those who had been "as good as gold" were allowed to enjoy. 
 
 A year's playing with the tin plate, stamped with the alphabet 
 round the rim — a year's rattling the beads in the money-box, with a 
 few rides on the chaplain's wooden horse, and Phil had become old 
 enough to be moved down into the "infant boys' room," to take his 
 first lessons in the infants' school, as well as to share in the games 
 in the infants' playground. His seat during school hours was on the 
 lowest stair of the broad flight of wooden steps that constituted a kind 
 of gallery for the little pupils to be ranged upon during their lessons. 
 The playground, too, was a fine place to jump about in, and it had no 
 clothes hanging to dry in it, like the exercising-yard at the workhouse, 
 so that he and Bertie could run and gambol in it without having the 
 wet linen flapping in their faces. The superintendent's wife, too, 
 had given Philip a penny battledoor and shuttlecock, and this was so 
 precious a treasure that the little fellow, on first receiving it, wanted 
 to carry it to bed with him at night, and nearly had it taken away 
 because he screamed and kicked on not being allowed to do so. 
 
 "Wretched little pauper schoolboys ! "We who can remember the 
 sums that were spent in the toys of our youth — the Christmas- 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 47 
 
 boxes, and school money, and birthday gifts that were laid out with 
 the old cake-woman of the school, or at the counters of that fairyland 
 of our holidays, the bazaar — such as we may, perhaps, wonder how so 
 poor a plaything could cause such great happiness as Phil's penny 
 present yielded him. But to those whose babyhood is comparatively 
 toyless, who hardly ever know even the childish luxury of a sweet- 
 meat, and who are content to amuse themselves with a piece of 
 paper fluttering at the end of a thread ; to them — lower as they are in 
 the scale even than they who get an occasional " farthing to spend" 
 — the present of a penny toy is an event in their young pauper lives 
 to be remembered and dated from ; and many were the little orphans 
 in that industrial-school playground, who not only looked up to the 
 lucky possessor of the bit of wood with as much envy as our children 
 do to the owner of a pony or a watch, but thought themselves the 
 most happy and favoured people in the world if they were only allowed 
 to have a short game with it. 
 
 But the wind is beautifully tempered to the shorn lamb, and 
 pauperism, ignorant of higher enjoyments, plays as happily with its 
 " dirt pies" and "rag dolls" as even young princes with their work- 
 ing models of steam-engines and clockwork singing-birds. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE PAUPER SCHOOL. 
 
 Time was, when your pauper schools were little better than pauper 
 pens for pauper cattle to be kept in until they were old enough — 
 according to law — to work their way, slowly but surely, from the 
 workhouse to the prison, and thus shift the burden from the parish to 
 the county. In such days the maintenance of the young pauper herd 
 was put up to competition, and he who bid the lowest figure had the 
 job. JSTor was it until some violent fever had broken out and 
 threatened a pestilence among the ratepayers, or until the expenses 
 of the parish funerals had amounted to unwieldy sums which no nicety 
 of finance could conceal, that guardians began to trouble their heads 
 about the fate of the miserable wretches to whom they had consented 
 to act as deputy fathers. There are some people who never think of 
 sanitary measures until the cholera is abroad ; and assuredly parish 
 overseers are among the number, for it is only when our social dust- 
 bins reek in the nostrils, and pour forth at each commotion a very 
 miasma of moral disease, that any steps are taken to purify the 
 noxious mass, or to put an end to the abomination. 
 
 Luckily for PhD, he had begun his career in life at a time when the 
 outcast children of the land were no longer fed and trained by con- 
 tract. It had already been discovered that the best means of putting 
 a stop to the habitual pauperism which infested our workhouses as 
 thickly as rats do a sewer, was by training the young parish outcasts 
 
48 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 to some calling which would enable them to keep clear of the Union 
 for the future ; and it is this discovery which has called into existence 
 a class of institutions which are at once the noblest and most useful 
 in the land — the Pauper Industrial Schools. 
 
 The school at which Phil had been placed differed but little from 
 those now scattered about the suburbs of London. It was a little 
 self-supporting community, the children being taught to do almost 
 every office that was needed for themselves and their fellows. The 
 boys worked upon the farm and the farm-yard, growing the fodder 
 for the cattle that yielded the milk, which the girls made into butter 
 and cheese for the parish scholars. Again, the linen on their backs, 
 as well as their clothes and shoes, were all made in the parish-girls' 
 needleroom or the parish-boys' workshops. The school steam-engine, 
 moreover, was stoked and tended by young pauper engineers, and 
 even the repairs of it wrought by young pauper smiths, whilst the 
 mangles and washing machines which the steam set in motion were 
 managed by young, pauper laundresses, who did all the washing for 
 the little colony. [Thus some seven hundred childish creatures were 
 taught to live, witn all the economy, regularity, and beauty of a hiveT] 
 The bread they eat was kneaded and baked by their own young hands, 
 the meat cooked by them, and the place cleaned ; whilst even the 
 gas which lighted the building young paupers had helped to manu- 
 facture. Indeed, there was hardly a want in the place that was not 
 supplied by the same young labourers. There were boy carpenters 
 to build or repair, as well as boy painters and glaziers to colour the 
 woodwork and mend the windows, together with boy bricklayers to 
 whitewash. And yet, while the hands were being taught, the mind 
 was not left untrained ; and so sound was the teaching, that some of 
 
 ■ the more apt of the pauper pupils were being educated to become the 
 
 I future masters of that or some similar institution. 
 
 It was a sad day for Phil when his time came to be removed from 
 ; the "infants' " side to the "boys' " portion of the school buildings. 
 The change was like going into a new world again, for he had to leave 
 all his little friends with whom he had been associated for so long a 
 time. Moreover, the boys in the upper playground were all strangers 
 to him, and so much bigger than himself, that he felt the same fear 
 of going among them as he had done on first coming to the school 
 itself. But though he was now old enough to be ashamed of showing 
 such a feeling, still the thought of being separated from Bertie, whom 
 he had got to love as a real sister, caused him more grief than he 
 had artifice to conceal. The little girl, however, had no check upon 
 her sorrow, and, as they sat apart under the shed in the playground, 
 she whimpered and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles until her tears 
 w r ere coloured with the dirt off her hands, so that she seemed to have 
 been weeping Indian ink. But Philip was just little man enough to 
 know that the big boys he was going among would laugh at him if 
 they saw his eyes were red with crying ; so he swallowed his sobs, 
 and endeavoured to persuade her (and himself at the same time) that 
 " there was no good in fretting, for it wasn't as if they were going to 
 be shut up away from one another, as he would still be able to see 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 49 
 
 her at meal-times and at chapel on Sundays, and he would take care 
 and nod to her every day even if he couldn't speak." 
 
 One marked difference that existed between the infants and the 
 boys at the Industrial School was, that the younger children had not 
 yet sense enough to speculate as to their origin or the condition of 
 their parents ; whereas the elder boys were continually puzzling their 
 brains with the mystery of their existence. No less than two hundred 
 out of the three hundred lads who thronged the upper playground 
 were orphans in the fullest sense of the word, and even the parents 
 of the less destitute children were either in the Union or in the re- 
 ceipt of out-door relief. It was reckoned among the boys at that 
 school as extraordinary a circumstance for a lad to have a father 
 living, as it is at other seminaries remarkable for a youth to be with- 
 out one. At the generality of academies for young gentlemen, there 
 is some one pupil, whose parents being out in India, or who, having 
 only a guardian to look after him, is left at the school during the vaca- 
 tion, and such a one is always an object of pity among his companions, 
 and sympathised with even by the servants of the establishment. At 
 the pauper school, however, there were no holidays at all, simply from 
 the fact that there were no homes to go to, nor even with the larger 
 proportion of the seven hundred little outcasts were there any mothers 
 or fathers to receive them. 
 
 "When Phil, in his skeleton suit of corduroy, was turned into the 
 big playground, the " new boy" was soon spied out ; and as the news 
 spread round, the games were stopped, and the lads at the farther 
 end of the ground left off swinging round the gymnastic pole, whilst 
 those who had been making kites, or indulging in " fly the garter," 
 came streaming out of the "playroom" to have a peep at the fresh 
 comer. They stared at him at first as strange animals gaze at each 
 other, until at last began the round of boyish questions touching his 
 private history and condition. 
 
 " "What's your parish ?" was the first question, and which came as 
 naturally to the orphan scholars as the inquiry concerning the 
 parentage of a new pupil is common among other schoolboys. The 
 speaker was the big boy of the school, who, by virtue of his size, had 
 been promoted to a cord-jacket, vice a skeleton suit resigned. 
 
 Phil gave [no answer, for he felt that if he said a word he must 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Are you an orphan ?" asked another, who was not, and was always 
 glad to show off a bit before his less lucky schoolfellows. 
 
 Phil nodded his head, on which he was told " to speak up, and 
 say at once whether he had got a father and mother, or not." 
 
 " Nurse Hazlewood, please, is the only mother I've got," stam- 
 mered Phil. 
 
 At this there was a shout from several boys who belonged to 
 St. Lazarus Without, and who instantly exclaimed, " Why, she's the 
 Union nurse, spooney ?" 
 
 A lad with a crutch, anxious to befriend little Philip, here ob- 
 served : " He means, perhaps, she's his foster-mother" — for all the 
 boys at that school understood the most minute relations of orphan- 
 
50 
 
 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 age, so that terms that would have been as Greek to more favoured 
 children were naturally comprehensible to them. 
 
 The speaker, however, was set upon by the united boys belonging 
 to 'St. Lazarus, all of whom shouted, " What can you know about it"; 
 you came from St. Job the Martyr, so just shut up !" 
 
 It was curious how the boys at the Industrial School were divided 
 into little cliques, the lads from the different parishes making cronies 
 of their fellow-parishioners just as those from the same county 
 become friends at other seminaries. 
 
 " Are you a foundling ?" inquired another lad. " Come young'un, 
 you needn't be timorsome over it, for there's a jolly lot of us here." 
 
 Almost the only thing that young Phil remembered concerning 
 his origin, was having heard Nurse Hazlewood once tell one of the 
 guardians, while going his rounds of inspection through the work- 
 house, " that he was the boy whose mother had been a lady, and died 
 in prison ;" he remembered it well, because the gentleman had patted 
 him on the head, and given him his first halfpenny at the time. So 
 Philip paid no heed to the question, but turned away from the 
 speaker. 
 
 " Come, don't sulk," cried one of the boys ; and, pointing to an- 
 other, he continued : " This chap, here, was tied in a fish-basket to 
 the relieving officer's knocker." 
 
 " No I wasn't," retorted the other, in the midst of the laughter. 
 " My mother's a washerwoman, and has two-and- sixpence a week and 
 two loaves, out-door relief, on account of her rheumatiz." 
 
 The examination-in-chief was then taken up by the lad with the 
 crutch, who said : " Cheer up, don't be afraid to tell us chaps here. 
 You were deserted, I suppose, and haven't got any friends ?" 
 
 " I've got Nurse Hazlewood," Philip answered, simply, as if he 
 thought that was everything in the world. 
 
 " She ain't the sort of friend we mean. Ain't you got no relations, 
 such as will give you a red comforter like we've got." 
 
 The comforter here referred to w r as the great mark of distinction 
 between those boys who could boast of some kindred and those who 
 were utterly friendless in the world. The parish allowance, by way 
 of neck-tie for the scholars, consisted merely of a piece of black shoe- 
 ribbon, to fasten the shirt-collar ; and the bright-coloured, worsted 
 cravat, to keep the chest and throat from the cold, had come to be a 
 regular sign in the school that the wearer had somebody to care about 
 him ; so that, as the eye glanced over the playground, it could pick 
 out the children who were not utterly destitute as easily as corporals 
 can be distinguished from privates by their stripes. 
 
 " Don't you know where you were born, and how you came to have 
 a settlement in St. Lazarus ?" was the next inquiry. 
 
 Philip shook his head ; for though he had often heard the word 
 " settlement" used in the Union, and knew that it was looked upon 
 by the inmates as a kind of indisputable claim or birthright to the 
 place, still he had not yet got to understand what it meant so clearly 
 as his questioners. 
 
 " Well, tell us how you became chargeable ? Was your father an 
 able-bodied or in-doors man ?" 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 51 
 
 " Please, I've heard mother Hazlewood say my real mother was a 
 lady." 
 
 A shout of laughter burst from the boys at the reply. " Ho, ho !" 
 roared one, " here's another gentleman's son come !" as if it was 
 usual for the foundlings to fancy they were born of distinguished 
 parents. One lad, called Billy Fortune, had evidently been indulging 
 in such a dream, for somebody cried out, " I say, Bill, here's one of 
 your sort ; you say your father was butler in a nobleman's family, 
 and I shouldn't wonder now if this young'un had bounce enough to 
 tell us his mother had been cook in the same place." 
 
 Philip could restrain his tears no longer, but turned his head 
 round to the wall, and as he hid his face against his arm, wished to 
 himself that he had never been taken away from the infant side of the 
 school, but allowed to pass his life near sister Bertie. 
 
 At this moment the newly-finished large kite, that had been the 
 talk of the school for weeks, was brought out of the playroom, and as 
 it was known to have exhausted the pocket-money of six of the 
 richest boys, who had "gone partners" to buy the fourpenny ball of 
 string for it — even though the engineer had made them a present of 
 an old twopenny newspaper to. cover it with — all the boys instantly 
 quitted Phil, and ran off to the new toy, the same as if a Punch and 
 Judy's call had been heard chirruping them away. 
 
 The only one who stopped behind was the boy with the crutch. 
 He said nothing, but remained quietly listening for a while to Phil's 
 whimpering. Presently he tapped the little fellow on the shoulder, 
 and said, " Don't take on like that, for if the chaps see you they are 
 sure to call you ' cry-baby.' " 
 
 There was another pause, and when at last Phil brightened up 
 sufficiently to turn round, the lame boy added, "If you'll be my 
 croney I'll be yours. I haven't got any fellow I care much about, 
 for I can't join in their games on account of my leg." As he men- 
 tioned the affliction, the boy stuck out a mere stump of a limb, which 
 had been taken off so close to the hip that the poor fellow seemed all 
 lop-sided, and made one fancy that he couldn't even stand, much more 
 walk, if it wasn't for his crutch. 
 
 Phil was so taken with the sight that he could hardly remove his 
 eyes from the mutilated limb, whilst the cripple, taking advantage of 
 the silence, ran on with a kind of introduction of himself as the best 
 beginning to their friendship. 
 
 " J\^name^2S„ Ned Purchase. My mother died in the hospital, 
 and I belong to^B^T'Yiius-in-the-Pields. I don't remember my 
 father, but he kept a beer- shop in JSTewcastle-on-Twine, and paid 
 rates for ever so many years. I'm called Goosey here 'cause I've 
 only one leg." 
 
 " Were you born like that ?" asked Phil, pointing to the stump. 
 
 " JSo, it was took off for a white swelling at the Tree Hospital by 
 Surgeon Sharp. Who was your parents ?" 
 
 "Hid it hurt?" 
 
 " I can't remember it now, for I wasn't above four year old. Do 
 you recollect your father ?" 
 
 "You can't do any thing without a leg, can you?" 
 
 e2 
 
52 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " Oh, can't I though !" answered Ned Purchase, who, like all 
 afflicted persons, was rather vexed than pleased with the continual 
 iteration of pity to which his misfortune daily subjected him. " Why, 
 I ain't half as bad off as Tom Lott here — he's lost' his right arm — 
 for I can work at a trade, and he can't do nothink but run errands 
 if he don't get to be a pupil teacher, which he won't, for he ain't 
 half quick enough. Then there's Mike Saunders, poor chap, his back- 
 bone is injured, and there he has to go about bent double as if he 
 was down at leap-frog. He'll never be able to do nothink at all, but 
 will have to remain in the Union till he dies. Ah ! we've got a lot 
 of chaps here like that — heaps !" 
 
 The two new friends then made the round of the playground. It 
 was a large gravelled court-yard, two acres in extent, set with gym- 
 nastic poles at the end by the long shed, under which the boys played 
 in wet weather. On one side was a series of cottage-like buildings ; 
 and these were the shops where the various trades were taught to 
 the pauper pupils. Thither Phil was led by his lame companion, and 
 told to look through the wire work protecting the windows. He saw 
 a lad busy planing at a bench, and the long curling shavings twisting 
 about his hands, whilst another was busy knocking together with 
 his mallet the framework of a door. Phil, as he gazed at the result 
 of the boys' handiwork, looking so clean and smooth, could not help 
 exclaiming with delight, 
 
 " I'll ask them to let me be a carpenter." 
 
 " You'd better leave it alone," answered Ned Purchase, " and 
 make up your mind to go to farm-work, for that's what you'll have to 
 do, 'cause you're strong." 
 
 The next window they peeped through was at the tailor's shop, and 
 there Phil saw some twenty boys seated cross-legged on the shop- 
 board, with their coats and jackets off, and stitching away at the 
 stiff, new corduroy suits of the school. 
 
 " How would you like to be a tailor ?" asked ISTed, with a look of 
 glee. 
 
 " It wouldn't suit me at all to sit like that all day long," replied 
 Phil. 
 
 "It's going to be my trade," said Ned, proudly; "you see my 
 leg won't be missed when I'm sitting down in that way." 
 
 Then they glanced at the shoemakers' miniature factory, and saw 
 the little fellows in their leathern pinafore-like aprons, jerking out 
 their arms as they pulled the waxen thread through the shoe-leather, 
 or hammering big, square-headed nails into the soles. Phil cried, 
 
 " Well, I'd rather go to farm-work and be out in the fields than be 
 stuck down to that sort of thing." 
 
 "Ah! would you?" responded Ned, with a sneer ; "you'll tell a 
 different tale when you've been here a few years. All the shoemaker 
 chaps get into a place, and begin doing something for themselves in 
 no time, but the farm-boys stick on hand, and can't be got off no- 
 how ; many of them, too, after all, have to be sent back to their 
 parishes, to be bound to a chimley-sweep or a butcher, maybe." 
 
 Prom this they passed to the boiler-house, and watched the great 
 engine flinging its brazen arms up and down, whilst a little fellow, 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 53 
 
 scarcely bigger than Phil, passed his hand between the network 
 of moving mechanism, as he poured oil into the joints as calmly as 
 if he were feeding a lamp. Philip felt his heart swell as he thought 
 how he should like to be aBIe to manage such an enormous machine 
 as that ; but his dream was interrupted by Ned Purchase saying to 
 him, " Ah ! there's lots of boys would give anything if they could 
 get put into the engine-room, but there's no chance, for there's only 
 two ever wanted there." 
 
 By this time the kite had been raised high into the air, and nearly 
 all the boys were collected in a circle round the happy lad who held 
 the string, so Ned Purchase thought it a good opportunity for taking 
 Phil into the playroom. 
 
 This was a long, empty outhouse, and against the walls hung the 
 skeletons and bodies of kites, in every stage and style of manufacture. 
 Some were only bits of brown paper cut into the shape of a heart, 
 with a thread and tadpoley tail hanging to them. Others were mere 
 frameworks, ranged against the wall like an armoury of infantine 
 cross-bows ; and others again were half-covered and like a patchwork 
 counterpane with the various bits of paper out of which they had 
 been formed, and among which the eye recognised now a page of a 
 penny London journal, and now a leaf of an old copy-book, with a 
 round-hand lesson upon it, and line after line repeating, " England 
 
 WAS OEIGINALLY PEOPLED BY " 
 
 Thus it was that Philip and the lame boy made friends ; and 
 that evening was passed in telling stories one to another of all they 
 could remember of their early history, and all that they knew of 
 the workhouse where they had been brought up. They compared 
 the dietaries, too, of their different Unions, and asked innumerable 
 questions as to whether they had ever heard of this and that pauper 
 (for the boys seemed to fancy all the poor must be acquainted with 
 each other, in the same manner as even educated people imagine 
 that anybody who has been to India must have been intimate with 
 every Englishman out there). They chatted, moreover, about the 
 guardians who had taken notice of them, or — more memorable than 
 all — that had ever given them a penny. 
 
 Long before the bell rang for bedtime, the two boys were sitting 
 together with their arms twined round each other's neck, talking the 
 wildest romance that, like hope and dreams, is the heritage of even 
 pauper youths in common with all others. It was then duly arranged 
 that Ned Purchase was to marry sister Bertie ; and when Phil's 
 father — who it was at last settled must have been some grand gentle- 
 man — was found, they were all three to live together, and do nothing 
 but ride on ponies all day, and have pudding for dinner every day in 
 the week. 
 
 "Ah, don't I wish I was as rich as a guardian — that's all!" said 
 Phil. " How much money do you think a guardian has got — a 
 hundred pounds ?" 
 
 " Much more than that, you silly," answered Ned, " or how could 
 they pay for the keep of such a lot of people as they do — more like 
 five hundred pounds." 
 
 " Eive hundred pounds 1" exclaimed the thunderstruck Phil, lost 
 
54 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 in the immensity of the sum. " I wonder how much that makes in 
 farthings ? I only wish we had got it, we wouldn't wait for father's 
 coming back, then!" 
 
 " But God won't let all be rich," answered Ned, moralising. 
 " Though, as the chaplain says, there's the same God for the rich as 
 the poor." 
 
 Phil looked down thoughtfully on the ground, and murmured: 
 " Why should God like the rich better than the likes of us, I wonder, 
 and give them such a lot, and leave hardly anything for the poor!" 
 
 " I can't tell, I'm sure," said the simple Ned ; " but the chaplain 
 says we are to have our reward by-and-by when we die, and that a 
 rich man might as well try to squeeze himself through the eye of a 
 needle as to get into the kingdom of Heaven." 
 
 " Well, but," inquired Phil, " if only the poor are to go to Heaven, 
 what a number there will be up there ; and if there ain't to be any 
 guardians, who will take care of us then ?" 
 
 " Why, don't you know that God is the great guardian of all?" 
 said Ned, who, workhouse orphan as he was, had learnt to regard 
 the Deity in that character rather than as the great Father of all. 
 " And didn't He make the world and all the money that is in it, 
 thousands and thousands of years ago?" 
 
 " Thousands and thousands of years ago !" murmured Phil, half to 
 himself; "why, that was when I was nothing." 
 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 FOUR YEARS AND THEIR CHANGES. 
 
 The history of one day at the pauper school was so like that of 
 another, that to describe the daily routine was to record the events of 
 the last four years that Phil passed at the place. The changes in the 
 week days were hardly known to the boys by the names they bore, but 
 rather by the alteration they brought in the diet ; for what are 
 ordinary called Tuesday and Thursday were spoken of at the Indus- 
 trial School as " meat-pudding days," whilst Sunday, Wednesday, and 
 [Friday were " suet-pudding days," and Saturday " soup day," instead 
 of being styled after the usual nomenclature of the almanack. 
 
 To those under eleven years of age the school itself presented little 
 or no variety, whilst to those above that age it afforded the relief of 
 working in the shops or on the farm every alternate day in the 
 week. 
 
 With these slight exceptions, the life of the pauper seminary was 
 as much a matter of drill, order, and regularity, as if the establish- 
 ment had been some infantine rather than infantry barracks. 
 
 Every morning at six the bell in the court-yard rang with the 
 same clatter as for a departing steam-boat, and instantly all the 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 55 
 
 dormitories, which a few seconds before had been almost as quiet as 
 hospital wards, were alive and bustling as a ship's company in a 
 sudden squall. 
 
 The dormitories themselves were long, bare, but cleanly wards, 
 with a row of iron bedsteads ranged down either side of them, whilst 
 in one corner was a compartment partitioned off as a separate berth 
 for the pupil teacher. The only things that broke the monotony of 
 the white walls were the large placards of Bible texts placed over the 
 doors, some impressing the precept, " Speak not evil one op 
 another," and others bearing the words, " Set a watch O Loud 
 
 BEFORE " MOUTH, KEEP THE DOOR OP MY LIPS." 
 
 A minute or two after the bell ceased ringing the lads were up and 
 partly dressed, with their bedclothes turned back, and readj waiting 
 for the order of the pupil teacher to " face their beds." Then came 
 the command, "Kneel down," and in an instant all was silent again, 
 with the youths bent in prayer at the foot of the iron bedsteads, and 
 inwardly breathing their supplications to Heaven. 
 
 At such times even the most callous might have been touched by 
 the solemn sight of the wretched fatherless creatures appealing to 
 their spiritual Father for care and protection throughout the day. 
 
 The next minute the boys had taken their jackets from under their 
 pillows, and, drawn up in file before the dormitory door, were await- 
 ing the signal of "forward" to pass from the room and get their 
 shoes from the nest of pigeon-holes in the lobby outside. 
 
 Then came the calling over names, and the washing in the lava- 
 tories at the side of the playground ; and this done, the whistle of 
 the drill-master was heard, and the boys were drawn up in rank and 
 file for inspection. 
 
 All was now ready for breakfast and family prayer, but long before 
 the meal the boys and girls who helped in the kitchen had been busy 
 ranging along the tall, narrow benches that served for tables, and 
 made the dining-hall look like a huge writing academy, the seven 
 hundred cans of milk and water, and the seven hundred thick lumps 
 of bread and butter, that formed the provision for the morning's re- 
 past. And when the large hall, big as an assembly-room, was filled for 
 morning prayers with every soul in the place, except the youngest 
 of the infants — officers and servants, as well as boys and girls — 
 the eye was enabled to comprehend the extent of the bounty 
 feeding such a host of mouths that must otherwise have gone 
 without a crust. Nor could the visitor help contrasting the cleanly 
 and tidy look of the destitute little throng with the filth and rag- 
 gedness of other poor children, who are thought to be better off in 
 the world than those who are driven to the parish for support. 
 
 When, in answer to the three taps on the table, the entire multi- 
 tude stood up to say " grace," the clatter of their sudden rising was 
 like the shooting of a load of stones, and as they remained with their 
 eyes shut, half-intoning the supplication for a blessing on their food, 
 they seemed like a legion of blind mendicants, all uttering the jaame 
 petition for charity. 
 
 The boys were delighted with the drill that formed part of the 
 summer exercises ; for it was not only like playing at soldiers, but, 
 
56 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 from its half gymnastic character, had all the excitement of an 
 athletic game. The old drill-master, too, who had served at Water- 
 loo, was as pleased with the work as the lads themselves, and 
 evidently felt the same enjoyment at the mimic military evolutions 
 as veterans are said to experience when teaching their grandchildren 
 to shoulder their crutch. Accordingly, the very first signal that 
 Sergeant Shaw blew from his silver whistle, brought all the lads 
 trooping to the manikin review. Leap-frog was given over, the iron 
 hoops that the engineer had made for the boys ceased to rattle over 
 gravel, the kites were hauled down, and the playroom emptied. 
 
 No sooner were the three hundred lads drawn up in one long, double 
 line, than the sergeant, pacing in front of the miniature ranks, with 
 all the pride of a general, shouted out his command of " To the left 
 face !" and then the noise of the whole line twirling on their heels 
 simultaneously, sounded like a wave upon the shore. After this came 
 the order, " Quick, march!" and instantly the little troop filed along, 
 the pauper corduroys whistling as they went with the friction of the 
 legs that kept twinkling backwards and forwards, like the moving 
 blades of scissors, and the feet pulsating on the ground, as the drill- 
 master marked the time with cries of " Left, left ! — one, two ! — left, 
 left ! — one, two !" Thus the tour of the playground was made, and 
 then the boyish regiment drew sharply up across the quadrangle 
 at the sound of " Halt !" Now followed, in rapid succession, the 
 commands of " Eyes front !" " Eanks of divisions, prove !" " As you 
 are !" " Bight file, prove !" " As you are !" " Rear rank, open order 1" 
 " Form four deep 1" " Prove distance !" "As you are !" — and, as each 
 order was given, it was peculiar to see the little pauper phalanx 
 execute the command with a precision that one and all delighted in. 
 Even the lame boy, Ned Purchase himself, was pleased to be allowed 
 to form one of the orphan army, and went jerking along on his 
 crutch, fancying he was marching and manoeuvring as well as the 
 best. 
 
 Phil liked the drill much better than the schooling, and, indeed, 
 had already made up his mind to be a soldier directly he was tall 
 enough to " 'list ;" and when he heard that one of the boys had 
 taught himself to play the flute so well, that the superintendent had 
 got him to be taken into the Gruards as a fife-player, he thought it 
 the greatest good luck that could possibly befal a human being, and 
 every night made it a special request in his prayers that Heaven 
 would be equally kind to him. 
 
 "With the " pupil- teachers" Phil bore the character of being a dunce, 
 but with his companions in the playground he was considered to be 
 one of the sharpest among them. He was generally at the bottom 
 of his class, though at gymnastics he could mount to the top of the pole 
 quicker than any other ; at arithmetic even the smallest boys on his 
 form could jump over him, but at fly-the-garter he could take the 
 " five-foot leap," and clear a back, without even " toeing the line," 
 far easier than boys double his size. 
 
 Immediately the summons was given for assembling for school, his 
 animal spirits seemed to leave him ; and no sooner did he enter the 
 big schoolroom, with the different classes divided off by red baize cur- 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 57 
 
 tains, and the lecture-hall-like seats, ranged gallery fashion, one above 
 another, than his heart sank within him, and he sat lumpishly in his 
 place, staring at the maps hung round the walls — first glancing, half- 
 vacantly, at the chart of " The travels of the Apostle Paul," then 
 wandering away to the " Land of Promise after its conquest by the 
 Israelites." Nor did he wake up from his reveries even when the big 
 black board, hung like a cheval-glass, was wheeled in front of the 
 class, and the pupil-teacher chalked the simple addition sum upon it ; 
 for when the boy-master asked the lads how many 6 and 8 made, 
 Phil thrust out his hand mechanically with the others as a sign that 
 he could tell, though on being bidden to do so, the guess of twenty- 
 two showed that his little mind was far away, wondering what Asia 
 was like from the map, and how long it would take him to walk there. 
 At reading aloud from the " daily lesson book" he made as sad a 
 mess as at figures ; and even though the twenty boys before him had 
 all repeated the exercise of "The Bird's Nest," drawling out the 
 little verse, 
 
 God taught the bird to build its nest 
 
 Of wool, and hay, and moss ; 
 God taught her how to weave it best, 
 
 And lay the twigs across. 
 
 Nevertheless, w r hen it came to his turn, he stammered over nearly 
 every word, and had to spell half the syllables, so that it was utterly 
 impossible to get any sense out of the simple rhyme. 
 
 But what Phil hated worse than all, and what he firmly believed 
 was nothing but an ingenious torture devised by some demon peda- 
 gogue for the express purpose of worrying little boys, was the exer- 
 cise called "Dictation" — especially that upon " words spelt differently, 
 but having similar sounds," so that he was fairly driven out of his wits 
 when he had to write down such a sentence as the following : 
 
 " You are right in saying that rite means a ceremony and wright a 
 maker, as the marriage rite and a wheelwright, but it is difficult to 
 write them all rightly ; so pray write this sentence, £ Mr. Wright's 
 marriage rites gave the wheelwright's daughter — so she writes — all 
 the rights of a married woman.' " 
 
 A stranger visiting the Industrial School with the knowledge that 
 at least two-thirds of the little pauper boys were orphans, would 
 doubtless have been startled to find them playing about the gravelled 
 quadrangle as merrily as if they had the kindest and best of parents 
 to take care of them ; such a one would have come to the conclusion 
 that others felt their destitute condition more keenly than the boys 
 themselves. 
 
 Nevertheless, there were moments when even the most thoughtless 
 of the orphan lads were roused to a sense of their terrible loneliness 
 in the world, and these occurred principally when any of the more 
 lucky boys were visited by their friends ; for then a kind of wretched 
 envy seemed to seize upon the most destitute, as the conviction forced 
 itself upon them that they might stop there for years and years with- 
 out the chance of any friend ever coming to see them. 
 
58 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Sometimes, when all the little fellows were playing together, laugh- 
 ing and jumping about, the cry of "Hodge wanted," or "Cumber 
 visited," would echo through the playground; then all the games 
 ceased, and as the happy Cumber or Hodge was seen scampering to- 
 wards the combing-room, where the friends visited the boys, the others 
 would creep up to the door and try to catch a glimpse of that great 
 rarity — a friend — and afterwards slink away to talk moodily together 
 about either what they remembered as to their own father or mother, 
 or else what they had merely heard about them. 
 
 But what seemed to lacerate their little hearts more sharply than 
 all, was when the self-same fortunate youths, some half-hour after- 
 wards, reappeared among them, their faces red and glowing with 
 delight, and carrying in their hands the peg-top or the orange that 
 had been brought them. Then all would gather round, and twenty 
 voices ask at once, " Who had been to see them, and what they had 
 given them ;" while the sight of the halfpenny or even the farthing 
 they had received, would cause many and many to sigh, and wish 
 they had such rich friends to visit them. Some, too, would follow 
 the lucky lad about the ground, and watch him as he rolled his orange 
 round and round in his hands "to make it juicy," and beg, as he ate 
 it, for even a bit of the peel. For the remainder of that day, too, 
 there was a general depression thoughout the school, and nothing else 
 was talked of but Hodge or Cumber and his grand friends, and num- 
 bers wished they were only like him. 
 
 Phil had two friends who sometimes came to see him — the one Nurse 
 Hazlewood, and the other the principal matron of the prison in which 
 he had been born ; but though the latter, when she called, gave her 
 true name of Miss Perriman, still, for the boy's sake, she was anxious 
 that neither ne nor any else should know who she was. The visits of 
 Nurse Hazlewood, however, w r ere but little thought of among the 
 schoolboys ; for as she was known to be in St. Lazarus Union, and she 
 generally asked, when she came, to see many of the other boys who 
 had been under her care, scarcely any excitement was produced by 
 her presence at the school. Moreover, the poor old woman hadn't 
 the means to give such costly tokens of her love as halfpence or 
 oranges to each of her nurslings ; and the half-pint of nuts, which 
 she usually brought with her, appeared so little when it came to be 
 doled out among them all at the rate of six to each, that Phil was 
 rather taunted than envied during the two days in the year on which 
 his foster-mother came. But to do the little fellow justice, he ca ^d 
 far more to see his workhouse mother than the grand lady with her 
 velvet mantle and parasol, who gave him sixpence every time she 
 called. 
 
 The old nurse, when he entered the visiting-room, and ran to 
 throw his arms about her neck, would seize hold of " her own Phil," 
 as she always called him, and hug and kiss him as much as she did 
 sister Bertie at her side. And there they would sit for more than an 
 hour together talking about the " house," and she would tell him 
 of the changes that had taken place in it since he left, while they 
 would listen with the same interest that others do to the tales of 
 home. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 59 
 
 She would chat to him, too, about blind Willie, and when she had 
 brought the little fellow vividly back to Phil's mind again, he would 
 ask all kinds of questions about the poor lad, and what he and Will 
 used to do when they were in the Union together. 
 
 There was one question, however, that was always uppermost in 
 Philip's mind. He had heard the orphan boys so often sit speculat- 
 ing by the hour as to their parentage, and others telling tales of 
 what they had known of their family, that a craving had come upon 
 him to learn something about his own, — more particularly about his 
 mother, of whom he had heard so little, and yet that little im- 
 plied so much. 
 
 Accordingly, whenever Nurse Hazlewood made her appearance at 
 the school, he was sure to ask her how she knew that his mother had 
 died in prison. 
 
 The answer was invariably the same, " Tou mustn't ask me, child ; 
 I can't tell you anything more than I have." 
 
 •" But Ned Purchase says it's only wicked people who are sent to 
 prison," continued Phil. " Was mother, then, wicked ?" 
 
 Poor Nurse Hazlewood was shocked at the words, and exclaimed, 
 as she threw up her hands, " Heaven forbid, boy, that I should ever 
 live to say such a thing to a child of its poor dead parent !" 
 
 " Ned Purchase declares she couldn't have been a lady if she died in 
 prison," continued Phil, sorrowfully. " But she was a lady — wasn't 
 she ?" 
 
 " Tell Ned Purchase not to go bothering his head about other 
 people's mothers," the nurse would reply. 
 
 " But, nursey," coaxed Phil, creeping up to the old woman, " who 
 was it told you she was a lady ? There, don't shake your head, but 
 try and recollect — do, please — for me, nursey. You'll learn all about 
 it, won't you, now, by the next time you come ?" 
 
 And every time she came the same questionings and answerings 
 went on. 
 
 Phil's other visitor produced a far greater commotion among the 
 boys : for whenever she paid her yearly visit, it was instantly buzzed 
 over the school that the grand lady had come to see Merton again ; 
 and as she always gave him a silver sixpence on leaving, she was 
 classed by the poor pauper lads as being among the most wealthy in 
 the land. 
 
 No sooner, too, was the visit at an end, and Phil among his com- 
 panions again, than all crowded enviously round him, to hear what 
 the lady had said, 
 
 " She says she knew mother," Phil would exclaim, boastingly, 
 and not a little proud that his mother should have had such a friend. 
 
 " Did she though ? Then I shouldn't wonder if your mother was 
 a real lady, after all !" one of the boys would reply. 
 
 " Yes, she says mother stopped at her house some time," the 
 elated Phil would go on.. 
 
 " It's no use trying to cram us," one of the less credulous would 
 exclaim. " If she was a friend of your mother, why did she let you 
 become chargeable, eh?" 
 
60 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 There was a laugh of derision among the boys, and Phil, in dudgeon, 
 turned upon his heel, and retired to talk with Ned Purchase alone. 
 
 " It's all true that I said just now, Ned — it is, upon my word and 
 honour !" he would proceed, for he was as excited with what he had 
 heard during the visit as he was angry at having the story doubted. 
 "She- told me what mother was like ; and I'm sure she's seen her, 
 and knows a lot about her too. She says she had dark hair and eyes, 
 like me ; and that she has some letters of hers. She saw my mother, 
 Ned, just before she died." 
 
 " And is it true, then, she died in prison ?" inquired Ned Purchase, 
 who knew all Phil's secrets. "Why didn't you ask her what she 
 was in for?" he added; for the workhouse is so close to the gaol, 
 that lads reared in the one are mostly acquainted with all the de- 
 tails of the other. 
 
 " So I did," answered Phil, full of what he heard, and gasping out 
 the words in his excitement ; " but all she would tell me was that 
 mother had been treated dreadful, and that she had been drove to do 
 what she did." 
 
 Phil got more of a dunce than ever, for, though when out in the 
 playground the excitement of the games roused his boyish spirits, no 
 sooner was he seated on the form of his class than his mind was away 
 speculating as to what "the lady" had told him, and building up 
 hopes upon the flimsy foundation of his father being still alive ; so 
 that when it came to his turn to answer the sum that the master had 
 chalked on the black board, " If a boy had sixty plums to eat in ten 
 minutes, how many must he eat per minute ?" Phil, who was dream- 
 ing of his mother, replied, " Just five-and-twenty when she died." 
 
 Then as all the class burst out laughing, and the master thought 
 Phil had meant the reply for a joke, he had to stop in school that 
 afternoon for the blunder. 
 
 Accordingly, when it came to Phil's time to be put to a trade, it 
 was agreed that farm-labour was the only thing suited to him, for 
 he was naturally loutish, they said, and therefore the work couldn't 
 have the same blunting effect upon his intellects as it was found to 
 produce upon quicker lads. 
 
 The out-door work did Phil some little good, for he had less 
 time to brood over his dreams, and the exertion of turning up the 
 earth served to put an end to all his romantic fancies ; for digging-in 
 manure and cleaning out pigsties are occupations which contribute 
 but little to the development of the imagination. 
 
 The agricultural portion of the Industrial School covered an estate 
 some sixty acres in extent, and reminded one of a model farm, for the 
 grounds were tilled with the greatest care, and the fields laid out 
 almost with the same regularity as garden-beds. All trees had been 
 cleared from the ground, and hedges replaced by invisible fences, so 
 that the estate had more of a foreign than an English look about it, 
 for the pasture-land seemed to be undivided from the arable, and even 
 the kitchen-garden and the sprouting orchard were hardly distinguish- 
 able from the farm itself. 
 
 Far down at the bottom of the sloping land ran the channel of the 
 
r*v~ 
 
 s^r.; 
 
 X" 
 
 £^^?;; 
 
 ^^V&,>> 
 
 >-^ 
 
 7/ ao 6ze> ; ///^?,;,^ •//?), 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 61 
 
 railway, hidden by the depth of the cutting, so that the rattle of the 
 carriages, and the gusts of white steam that seemed to issue from the 
 earth, as well as the working of the arms of the tall signal-posts hard- 
 by, were the only evidences of the passing trains. 
 
 The boys, in gangs of some half-dozen, with the bailiff at their head, 
 tilled the earth by manual labour ; and often as a train rushed past, 
 Phil would rest upon his fork to gaze after the engine as he saw it 
 appear in the distance and lose itself among the hills ; and he would 
 wonder to himself whither it went, and what the earth was like there, 
 and whether he should ever be carried over the land by one of those 
 quick darting things. 
 
 This occurred day after day, and a craving at length fastened upon 
 him to get out into the world and see the country and the towns of 
 which he knew so little ; for as yet his travels had never extended be- 
 yond his ride in the cart from the workhouse, and an occasional 
 walk out with the school to have a game of cricket on the neigh- 
 bouring common. 
 
 "Working in the same gang with Phil was Billy Fortune, one of the 
 biggest boys in the school, who had been at farm-labour so long that 
 he had grown weary of waiting to be put out in the world, and was 
 always grumbling at seeing those who had been taught trades easily 
 provided with situations, whilst he remained on hand to dig and dig 
 day after day as he had done for years before. 
 
 "I wish a cove could only get away to sea," he'd say, sulkily, to 
 Phil, when the bailiff was not near, " wouldn't I precious soon hook it. 
 Where's the good of a fellow stopping at this work and never getting 
 a halfpenny for hisself ? I want to be earning something, and if 
 they won't help me to it, why I shall save them the trouble some of 
 these fine days." 
 
 Then Billy Fortune would proceed to tell Phil about ships, and 
 how jolly the life of a sailor was, and give him such accounts of foreign 
 lands as he had been enabled to gather from the school geography, 
 until his little companion thought if it wasn't for Bertie and Ned Pur- 
 chase, he, too, would like to go seafaring. 
 
 The tie, however, which held Philip to the school, and which made 
 it seem like a home to him, was destined shortly to be broken. 
 
 Sister Bertie, who had grown to be a big girl, had risen so high 
 in the estimation of the schoolmistress, that she had been promoted to 
 the post of waiting-maid to the superintendent's wife. She had become, 
 too, such a favourite with the chaplain, that he had promised to place her 
 out in the world as soon as possible, and to get her a good situation. 
 Phil, when he first heard of the promise, had half prayed that it might 
 never be realised ; so when he was told that the situation had really 
 been obtained, and that the day was even fixed for his sister's depar- 
 ture, he hardly slept that night for crying ; for though it was seldom 
 that he could speak to the girl, yet ever} r day at meal times he 
 could nod his head to her and see her smile in return. Sometimes, 
 too, he was allowed to have half an hour's interview with her in the 
 passage between the girls' and boys' playgrounds ; consequently, he 
 had never felt utterly alone in the place. 
 
 When the time, however, arrived for the parting, and Bertie, 
 
62 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 dressed for her journey, had come to the playground door to say good- 
 by to her foster-brother, Phil was half surly in the selfishness of his 
 grief at losing her. 
 
 " Why, Phil, isn't it better now," said sister Bertie, consolingly to 
 him. " I am to get 51. a year, after the first year, and only think 
 what a help that will be to mother and you." 
 
 " "Well, I don't know what you want to go at all for," grumbled 
 Phil, " and leave a fellow all alone here. I wouldn't have done it to 
 you." 
 
 " I am going, Phil, to a sick old lady's," continued Bertie, playing 
 with his hands, " who wants a girl to read to her ; and only suppose 
 if any of her friends should have a place for a boy, why I should speak 
 up for you of course, and then, perhaps, we might be near one another 
 again." 
 
 Phil pretended to treat the notion with contempt, but still he 
 smiled with inward pleasure at the care of his sister for him. 
 
 " Come, don't be angry, dear Phil," pleaded Bertie ; " you know 
 the chaplain visits once every three months all those who have got 
 situations, and you can always hear of me from him." 
 
 Philip could not bear to look at the girl, so he turned his shoulder 
 round, and she, thinking he was still angry, clung to him as she 
 cried, 
 
 " Oh, Phil, don't be cruel now ! you'll never let me go from you in 
 such a way." 
 
 The appeal was more than the boy could bear, and half-choked with 
 his sobs, he stammered out, 
 
 "It isn't that, Bertie ; but you can't tell how hard it is for a chap 
 to lose his only friend in such a big place as this." 
 
 Por some time after sister Bertie's departure, Phil bore up with 
 the hope that perhaps her words might come true, and he be sent for 
 to come and live at some friend of her mistress's ; but when week 
 after week went by and no such happy message arrived, the only con- 
 solation left the boy was to waylay the chaplain on his rounds and 
 ask him whether he had seen or heard of Bertie lately. At such 
 times the minister would tell him either that " she was going on 
 very satisfactorily indeed," and that he had " every reason to be 
 gratified with her conduct ;" or else he would kindly take him into 
 his room and read him the remarks he had written in his report- 
 book, after his last visit to the girl. 
 
 " There, Merton, you see, Bertha Hazlewood has one of the best 
 characters in my reports," he would say, patting Phil on the head, as 
 he spread the book out before him. " Her conduct, you perceive, is 
 exemplary — rises early — obeys cheerfully — works hard and willingly 
 — is regular at her devotions, and, altogether, her moral and religious 
 deportment of a very pleasing and consoling character." 
 
 The effect of Bertie's absence, however, soon began to show itself 
 on Phil, by the daily increasing impatience that he felt to be out in 
 the world like his sister, doing something for himself; and whenever 
 he heard that some of the boys in the tailors' or -shoemakers' shop, 
 who had entered the school after himself, had been apprenticed and 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 63 
 
 "put out," he and Billy Fortune would grumble together, and vow 
 that they wouldn't stop there farm-labouring much longer. 
 
 About this time, too, it so happened that the guardians of St. 
 Vitus-in-the-Fields discovered that Ned Purchase had no legal settle- 
 ment in their parish — that indeed he belonged to some union in the 
 north of England, and that they had been keeping him unlawfully for 
 the last eight years. 
 
 In a few hours everybody in the school knew that Ned Purchase 
 had been found to have another parish, whereupon the young paupers 
 were all busy, like so many little parochial authorities, discussing the 
 niceties of settlement, and arranging how he was to be " passed" to 
 his new union. 
 
 "When Phil and Billy Fortune returned from farm-labour in the 
 afternoon they found a crowd of lads round the cripple boy, who was 
 half crazy at the idea of being torn away from what had grown to be 
 a home to him, as well as terrified at the doubtful character of the 
 new place he was to be sent to. 
 
 And, indeed, it must be hard to such as him to find, when long asso- 
 ciations have twined the affections round the haunts of their boyhood, 
 that the ardent friendships of youth are to be severed with the sign- 
 ing of a discharge-paper; and that they themselves are so utterly 
 powerless and unheeded in the world, that directly it is discovered 
 the burden of their keep can be legally shifted, they are moved from 
 one " farm" to another as rapidly as cattle sold at a fair. 
 
 The day after the news had been made known that Ned Purchase 
 was to be passed to his legal settlement, he and Phil were seated in 
 one corner of the playground shed talking earnestly with Billy 
 Fortune, and with their heads so close together that they had evi- 
 dently some profound secret among them. 
 
 " I tell you," said Billy, " there it is printed, and I read it myself 
 — it's in the old newspaper we had give us to cover the big kite with, 
 and it says he was a poor cabin-boy that got aboard a ship at Ports- 
 mouth, and he went over to the Ingies, and now he's come home with 
 whole shiploads of money, and has got made a member of Parliament 
 in consequence. If you like you can see it all yourselves — -just at 
 the bottom near the tail of the kite ; there's the very speech as the 
 gentleman made at a slap-up dinner he was asked to." 
 
 " Where abouts is Portsmouth ?" asked Phil, for he had not the 
 least idea whether it was in Europe, Asia, Africa, or America. 
 
 "Oh! it ain't far off," answered Billy, who had a vague notion 
 that it was somewhere near London Bridge ; "we could easily walk 
 it and get a ship there, in less time than you can catch a tittlebat." 
 
 " I should like to get out to India !" observed Phil, " and go riding 
 in castles on elephants' backs, and shooting tigers, like it says in the 
 history of ' Warren 'Astings ' that's in the library." 
 
 " But they wouldn't take me as a cabin-boy, would they ?" ner- 
 vously asked the poor cripple. 
 
 " Why not, Groosey ?" inquired Billy Fortune ; though presently a 
 sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he exclaimed, " Oh, you 
 mean 'cause of your leg ! Pooh ! lots of fellows have told me that half 
 
64 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the old sailors at Greenwich have got no legs at all, and Lord Nelson, 
 in his portraits, I know is always drawed with only one arm." 
 
 "Whereupon the youngsters settled among themselves, and proved 
 to each other's satisfaction, that a seafaring life was just the business 
 for a cripple like Ned Purchase, as all that a sailor had to do was to 
 pull ropes and steer the boat. Besides, as they very cogently urged, 
 there couldn't be much walking about to be done on board such a 
 small place as a ship. "And once out in India," continued Billy 
 Fortune, " you'll be quite at home, Goosey ; for in every picture I've 
 seen, there the kings and princes is sitting cross-legged like tailors, 
 and you've been brought up to that business here, you know." 
 
 The rest of the day the boys passed in the most out-of-the-way 
 places about the building, plotting how their escape was to be 
 managed. If anybody stopped near them, they instantly moved off 
 to some more deserted spot. 
 
 " You see," said Phil, " Saturday's half-holiday, and that's our 
 time to be off, just after the names have been called over, for then, 
 you know, we're allowed to go about the grounds where we like. 
 Besides, we shall have a clear start all Sunday, for they can't well 
 come.and look after us during church-time." 
 
 " I vote," said the cripple, "that we walk out into the farm-fields, 
 just as if we were going to fly our kite, and then we can sneak off 
 round by the stables, and be through the hedge into the wood, at the 
 back here, in a jiffy." 
 
 " But when we're in the wood, how are we to get anything to 
 eat ?" asked Billy, who was of rather a hungry disposition. " "We 
 can't sell our clothes to get any money, you know, for, as they belong 
 to the parish, they might have us took up for stealing." 
 
 " Well, that is good ! How do you think Eobinson Crusoe lived, 
 that we were reading about only the other night in the bedroom ?" 
 cried Phil. " And if he could do it on an uninhabited island, surely 
 we can manage it in a wood, where there's plenty of prime black- 
 berries. What's nicer than them I should like to know?" And 
 at the thoughts of the fruit Phil uttered the boyish exclamation of 
 " Golly !" and rubbed his waistcoat up and down as expressive of 
 intense delight. 
 
 It was then ultimately arranged by the young runaways, after 
 long deliberation, that they were to save as much bread as they 
 could from their meals, and immediately after the Saturday's dinner 
 they were to take their last farewell of the school, and then, making 
 the best of their way to the Thames, walk along the banks of the 
 river till they came to Portsmouth — which Bill Fortune assured them 
 he knew was somewhere in that neighbourhood. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 65 
 
 CHAPTER V.* 
 
 THE RUNAWAYS. 
 
 The three little pauper rebels having made up their urchin minds 
 to decamp from the Industrial School, became inseparable companions, 
 and passed every moment of their play-time in maturing their boyish 
 plans. They -had their secret meetings in the most out-of-the-way 
 places and obscurest corners, where they held solemn debates in mys- 
 terious whispers, at the same time keeping a sharp look-out on the 
 monitors and the drill sergeant. If their privacy were disturbed by 
 any stray schoolfellow, the whole character of the assembly was in- 
 stantly changed ; and so as to remove all suspicion of its unlawful 
 object, the moment the signal of " somebody coming " was given, one 
 of the conspirators would begin to whistle loud and boldly, whilst the 
 others broke out into noisy conversation, or commenced romping 
 together. 
 
 So totally were the poor boys absorbed in their plottings, that, like 
 true conspirators, they were nervous and uneasy unless in one 
 another's society. Peeling rather timid as to the success of their 
 plans, nothing appeared to give them so much courage as treating 
 the possibility of a failure as an absurdity. Whenever Philip felt 
 that his fears were overcoming him, he invariably made a point of 
 accusing Billy Fortune with " being afraid, and wanting to back out 
 of it," and the indignant denials and energetic manner of that bold 
 young pauper never failed to inspirit the meeting and restore confi- 
 dence. 
 
 Before two days had passed, the little rebels had, by their 
 altered manner, attracted the notice of the whole school, and but 
 for the speedy execution of their plans they would certainly have 
 been found out before a week had elapsed. Had they been three 
 Eoman patriots arranging the overthrow of Tyranny and Ambition, 
 their general behaviour could not have been more marked and sin- 
 gular. Did any lad invite the stern Philippus Mertonus to join in 
 the giddy delights of " hop-scotch," or "leap-frog," he answered with 
 a haughty sneer, such as would have become a Brutus spurning the 
 offers of a Caesar. Twice on the Eriday was Billy Fortune discovered 
 drawing ships on his slate instead of " doing his arithmetic," and when 
 threatened with punishment he tried to look as defying as he could, 
 for he was saying to himself, " To-morrow at twelve I shall be miles 
 away." 
 
 Each of the three boys, whenever they met for consultation, always 
 managed to bring with him some article or other which he had 
 pilfered during the day, thinking it would be likely to prove useful 
 during their stay in the wood. 
 
 "I've got some lucifer matches," said Ned Purchase, at one of 
 
 F 
 
QQ PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 their rendezvous. " I collared 'em out of the tailors' shop. "Won't 
 they be jolly useful making fires ?" 
 
 " Ay," cried Billy Fortune ; "and I think I knows where there's 
 a potato-field, and if one thing is primer than another it's baked 
 'murphies.' " 
 
 " Here's my bread ; I didn't eat a bit at dinner on purpose," said 
 Phil, pulling out a big slice from his jacket pocket. " Have you 
 saved anything, Billy ?" 
 
 " No, I eat my bread," answered the fat conspirator, " but I've 
 prigged this string from Tom Close's kite. It will do first-rate for 
 tying branches together when we make our cave." 
 
 When Friday night came, and the three boys were sleeping in 
 their school beds for the last time, as they thought, they could none 
 of them close an eye for thinking of the step they were about to take 
 on the morrow. Phil felt almost ready to cry with depression, for 
 however "jolly" he may have called the scheme when chatting it 
 over with the others, yet something within himself warned him that 
 he was about to take a foolish step in life, which would plunge him 
 into the uncertainty of the world's struggles before he was fitted to 
 encounter them. 
 
 Billy Fortune was of too brutal and coarse a nature to bestow two 
 thoughts upon anything that he did. He only felt that he desired a 
 change of scene, and running away was the easiest mode of gratifying 
 himself. 
 
 "With Ned Purchase, however, the case was very different. The 
 poor cripple knew that he had only to choose between being sent 
 away from the place which he had grown to love as a home, and 
 leaving it of his own accord. 
 
 School hours were over, and the Saturday's half-holiday had begun. 
 The three boys, with their pockets bulging out with the pieces of 
 crust they had saved, crept round by the kitchen- garden, crouching 
 against the wall, until they reached the hedge that divided oft the 
 wood ; when, dashing through an opening in the fence, they plunged 
 into the thicket, and ran off like frightened hares into the darkest 
 part of it. 
 
 Now all their boyish dreams of a merry forest life were soon to be 
 dispelled. Now they were to learn that Eobin Hood had not been 
 the most favoured of mortals, and that most likely, if the offer had 
 been made him, he would willingly have quitted the romantic delights 
 of the " greenwood shade " for the more solid enjoyments of a well- 
 roofed dwelling. For the first time they were to learn by experience 
 that B-obinson Crusoe on his desert island led a life of privation, 
 compared with which a workhouse existence was one of luxury and 
 enjoyment. 
 
 After running for at least an hour, and darting through briers and 
 underwood till their hands and faces were torn with thorns, the three 
 young scamps came to a halt. The first thing th^y did was to hunt 
 for a place to pass the night in, and great was their surprise to find 
 the ground wet and soddened with the past rains, so that even the 
 pressure of the foot brought the water up to the surface like squeez- 
 ing a sponge. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 67 
 
 "I say, I don't half like this," said Phil, with a disappointed look ; 
 and turning to Billy Fortune, he added, " I thought you said there 
 was lots of dry moss here ?" 
 
 "So there is, you silly, when you've dried it," retorted Master 
 Fortune. 
 
 Ned Purchase stammered out something about going back again, 
 but was soon "silenced by the redoubted Billy. 
 
 "You may go if you like," he said, " only it's all found out before 
 this ; and won't you get a licking — rather ! You'll have to take our 
 share and your own too, I can tell you." 
 
 The runaways tried to light a fire, and one by one the lucifera 
 were held to the decayed leaves, but without success. To console 
 themselves, they sat down on a bent bough, and tried to raise their 
 drooping spirits by planning the delicious future that awaited them 
 as soon as they dare leave the wood and start for Portsmouth. Al- 
 ready they were on shipboard, pulling at ropes and letting out sails ; 
 or else they were catching flying-fish, or watching the changing 
 colours of the dying dolphin. Now they were landing on some 
 island where they were all received with the greatest kindness by 
 the black inhabitants, and even welcomed by the king himself. After 
 feasting on sugar-cane and delicious fruits, they were to return to 
 their own country laden with presents consisting chiefly of diamonds 
 the size of eggs, and lumps of gold as big as quartern loaves. 
 
 " Catch me giving that old drill-master any, that's all," cried 
 Billy Fortune, as earnestly as though his dreams had been realised. 
 
 When the twilight came, the truants eat the bread they had brought 
 with them, but it had grown so hard with being kept in the pocket 
 that it broke like biscuit. Neither was there enough even to take 
 the " edges" off their appetites. 
 
 " Oh, I've got such a pain here," said Billy Fortune, pressing his 
 stomach ; " I never felt so hungry in all my life. It's the running's 
 done it !" 
 
 " Chew some leaves, they're just like spinach," suggested Ned Pur- 
 chase to the disgusted William. 
 
 " You said we should find blackberries and birds' eggs," exclaimed 
 Phil, reproachfully. 
 
 They found some amusement in imagining to themselves the sensa- 
 tion their absence had created in the school when the name list was 
 called over at night. From the place where they were sitting they 
 could hear the big school-bell ring for supper, and afterwards for bed- 
 time. They watched all the lights in the different windows of the 
 building, trying to find out by them which was their dormitory. Then 
 came wonderings as to what " So-and-so was doing," or "what the 
 head-master had said," and whether any search would be made for 
 them that night. 
 
 At last Billy Fortune declared he could stand his " awful hunger" 
 no longer. He vowed he was starving, and that as he had often read 
 that was the worst death possible, he was determined to do some- 
 thing desperate rather than dwindle slowly to a skeleton. When his 
 companions saw him jump up from the ground as if he meant to leave 
 them, they both began to charge him with being the cause of their 
 present suffering, and the first to " turn tail." 
 
 f2 
 
68 • PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " That's all you know about it," shouted Bill, brutishly. " I shall 
 be back again in an hour, only I can't stand this beastly hunger. I've 
 got a plan for freeing us all, I tell you. . I'm only going back to the 
 school to get some grub. I know the place where it's kept, and there's 
 a window quite handy in the wall. All a feller's got to do is just to 
 put in his arm and help hisself. So just keep your hearts up and 
 never say die, and I'll be back in less than no time with some jolly 
 new bread, which is the primest eating in the world, to my fancy." 
 And, despite their entreaties that he would not run so great a risk, 
 off went the stubborn lad. 
 
 " Do you think he'll blab if he's caught ?" said Phil, nervously, as 
 if he half suspected the answer. 
 
 "Yes," replied Ned. 
 
 Now that they dare neither of them go to sleep for fear that the 
 marauder should be detected and their hiding-place hunted after, it 
 was as much as they could do to keep their eyes open. They knew 
 it was far in the night by the long time since it had been dark. They 
 grew nervous, too, thinking of robbers — poor workhouse lads ! 
 Neither of them had spoken a word for more than an hour — and, in- 
 deed, each had imagined the other to be asleep — when Ned suddenly 
 cried out, 
 
 " What's that, Phil ? Did you hear anything ?" 
 
 Phil answered " No ;" but he spoke in a whisper, for he had heard 
 the whistle plainly enough. 
 
 Before another second had passed, Ned Purchase, breathless with 
 fear, pointed to some lights moving in the wood not a hundred 
 yards off. 
 
 Phil was on his feet in a moment. 
 
 " That sneak, Fortune !" he muttered ; " he has gone and blabbed 
 where we are. Come on, Ned ; let's cut as hard as we can." 
 
 Ned Purchase was nearly frozen, and the stump of his leg was 
 aching with the cold. 
 
 " I can't stir, Phil," he said. "You go ! Grood-by ! We shall meet 
 again some time." 
 
 Phil gave the cripple his crutch, and seized hold of him to help 
 him up. 
 
 "Do you think I'd leave you?" he cried. "Quick! Jump up 
 like a man. I'll help you on." 
 
 " No, let me be, Phil," said Ned, with the tears streaming down 
 his cheeks. "How could a one-legged chap like me get clear off? 
 Hark ! they've got dogs with them. Cut ! cut ! Do, Phil ; I should 
 only die if I followed you. Run, run ! here they are." 
 
 Phil looked round, and among the dark trees he saw the lights 
 moving about like monster fire-fiies. He could hear the rustling of 
 the bushes being pushed aside, and off he darted, shouting out a 
 " Grood-by, dear Ned," as he bounded in the black wood. 
 
 The street-lamps had just been lighted when -a boy wet through 
 with the rain, and dragging his feet after him as if he had hardly 
 strength to raise their weight, crept along the pathway leading to 
 the Elephant and Castle. Then coming suddenly to a halt, he stood 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 6Q 
 
 staring about him as if dismayed at the sight of the several roads 
 branching off in front. 
 
 It was such a night that no one who had a home to go to would 
 think of loitering about. Even those who had umbrellas ran along the 
 pavement to escape as fast as possible from the rough weather. But 
 though the rain came down with a force that made it splash up again 
 from the stones, there the lad stood, looking down the long vista of 
 bright lamps, and staring before him almost as intently as a sailor on 
 the look-out at sea. 
 
 Poor Phil ! he was his own master at last ! He was free to go 
 where he liked and do what he pleased, and yet, with all the world 
 before him, he dared not trust himself to advance a foot lest it 
 should lead him into evil and suffering. 
 
 And now what is to become of him ? 
 
 The streets of London make, at the best, but a stony-hearted 
 parent, the gutter forming but a sorry cradle for foundling babes 
 to be reared in. The " back slums " of the metropolis are poor 
 academies for youth, and moral philosophy is hardly to be picked up 
 under " dry arches " and in "padding kens." 
 
 CHILDHOOD IN THE STEEETS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 THE START IN LIFE. 
 
 " Heee, my coveys," cried a suspicious-looking youth, as he entered 
 the kitchen of one of the low lodging-houses near the Mint, " I've 
 caught a young flat what's been and hooked it from the House at 
 JSor'ud. He didn't know where to stall to in the huey. I found 
 him out in the main toper, and told him to step it along with me, for 
 I was going into a ken in the back drum. Just twig his bunch of 
 fives, Conkey" (this was said to a gentleman with a peculiar bottle- 
 nose). " S'elp me ! if a mauley like that there ain't worth a jemmy a 
 day to a kenobe at wiring. Why, they're just made for hooking a 
 fogle out of a clye." 
 
 Poor Phil Merton, to whom the above unintelligible jargon re- 
 ferred, stood in the centre of the wretched room trembling with 
 fright at the strange and dismal character of the place, as well as the 
 savage-looking people he had just been introduced to. 
 
 The purport of the above communication, though incomprehensible 
 to most people, was not so to one who was known among the gang 
 
70 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 as Yau Diemen Bill, and who sat by the fire swathing his. bare 
 ulcerous feet in a long roll of rags. He, however, was sufficiently 
 well versed in " cant " to know that it meant to say that the 
 strange boy couldn't tell where to get a lodging in town, and that 
 " Buck" (the name of the lad who had brought Phil to the house) 
 had found him in the high road, and told him to come with him, as 
 he was going to a lodging-house in one of the by-streets. He knew, 
 moreover, that Buck had drawn his friend Conkey's attention to the 
 delicacy of the boy's hand, declariug that such a one was worth a 
 sovereign a day to a thief at picking pockets, and adding that Phil's 
 fingers were made expressly for hooking out handkerchiefs. 
 
 The speech, however, had hardly been finished before Van Diemen 
 Bill had suddenly slipped on the old shoes at his side, and, going 
 towards Buck, said, as he folded his arms and looked at him surlily 
 in the face : 
 
 " Shut up, will you— shut up, now ! I tell you, you ain't a-going 
 to make a gun (thief) of this here young flat ; it's a bad game, you 
 know as well as I do, and I won't stand by and see a mere kid like 
 this here put in the way of being lagged or scragged (transported or 
 hanged) as he i3 sure to be at last if he goes on the cross like us. 
 Tou knows, Buck, as well as I do, that we leads the life of dogs. Arn't 
 we all on us spotted (marked) here ? and ain't the Bobbies at our heels 
 directly we stirs a foot, so that we can't even do a kingsman (silk 
 handkerchief) in a day, let alone a skin or a soup (a purse or watch) ? 
 Stand back!" he shouted, as Buck appeared to make an advance 
 towards the lad, " and leave the kid alone, or I'll put out my Chalk 
 Farm (my arm) and give you a rap with my Oliver Twist (fist) over 
 your I suppose (nose) that'll flatten your chevy chase (face) for you !" 
 he added, menacingly, between his teeth, as he shook his clenched 
 hand in the air. 
 
 Then stooping down to the scared lad, he said, in as tender tones 
 as he was capable of: 
 
 " Come with me, young 'un, this ain't no place for you ; they're all 
 on the cross here ; and you must keep square, my lad — keep square, 
 whatever you do!" And so saying, the old thief seized Phil by the 
 arm and led him out of the house — much to the astonishment of the 
 younger and less squeamish rogues infesting the place. 
 
 Nor was there anything very extraordinary in such an act ; for let 
 us say, for the honour of such characters, who are generally con- 
 sidered to be utterly dead to every kindly feeling, that we ourselves 
 have had honest boys brought to us by old returned convicts, and 
 that solely from a disposition to save the lads from leading the same 
 life as their own, for none but the very basest of- thieves seem to 
 wish others to be like themselves ; and it is by no means uncommon 
 for a person to hear, when some one of the fraternity says he has 
 made up his mind, and is " going to square it" (live honestly for the 
 future), the others, one and all, exclaim, " Well, I'm glad on it ; I only 
 wish I could'do the same !" 
 
 To say the truth, Van Diemen Bill had led such a life of suffering 
 and crime that now, in his advanced age, when he found himself 
 no longer capable of the more daring exploits by which heavy " swag'? 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 71 
 
 (plunder) could be obtained, and too closely watched by the police to 
 be capable of any of the minor thefts, he felt angry at the thought 
 of any young lad being trained to a life like his. It was impossible, 
 as he said, for such as him to get work, and neither could he steal — 
 indeed, it was only by continued " friendly leads" (subscriptions) 
 among his old pals, and the gathering of the few bits of rag and 
 bones from the muck-heaps in the streets, that he was enabled to eke 
 out life at all. 
 
 Phil was no sooner in the street than the man led him hurriedly 
 away to a low public-house in the neigbourhood ; and there, entering 
 the little tap, that was so dark that the gas was always kept burning 
 during the day-time, he said : 
 
 " Come, lad, have a bit o' scran, and I'll stand a shant o' gatter, I've 
 got a teviss here;" and then, suddenly remembering that he was no 
 longer talking to one of his own fraternity, he added, " I meant to say, 
 have a bit of this here vittals, and I'll pay for a pot of beer, I've got 
 a sixpence. A party as is kind to me on my rounds gave me some 
 broken bits and an old jacket this morning, and I sold the jacket to 
 the dolly-man for a bob. So come, eat now, boy, you needn't be 
 afraid of me ; for, though I'm a thief, I wouldn't harm the hair of your 
 head — that I wouldn't." 
 
 Phil looked up in the old convict's face, and in the corner of his eye 
 he could see a bright tear drop shimmering against the swarthy skin. 
 Had the boy been more knowing as to the lives and characters of such 
 people, he might have guessed that some recollection of his early 
 home, or a dead parent's advice, had suddenly flashed across his mind ; 
 but the soft thief's hand was rubbed hastily over the brow, and the 
 ugly memory shaken out of the brain with a half shudder and toss of 
 the head. 
 
 The sight of the tear, however, inspired Phil with some little faith 
 in the humanity of his companion, and assured him more than any 
 words could do that the man really had some feeling for him. 
 
 In a few minutes the handkerchief of broken victuals was spread 
 upon the table, and Phil was eating heartily, for the first time that 
 day, and sipping occasionally at the half-pint of threepenny ale that 
 his kindly, if not honest, friend had supplied to him. Nor was it long 
 before the convict had learnt from the runaway workhouse lad his 
 whole story, and more especially how, as he stood loitering about the 
 Elephant and Castle, the lad Buck had accosted him, and finding him 
 without a lodging, had promised to provide him with one if he would 
 follow him to his home. 
 
 The story ended, Phil could hardly help giving way to his feelings, 
 and sobbed aloud in his alarm at the danger he had been in. 
 
 " There, there, boy," said Van Diemen Bill, " you must keep your 
 pluck up whatever you do. Come, now, I'll tell you what I mean 
 you to try. All I can give you, my good lad, is a sixpence ; and if it 
 hadn't been for the old coat I got this morning I couldu't have done 
 that. Howsomever, the sixpence you're welcome to, and thank Grod it 
 was honestly come by for your sake. Well, you see, twopence of it 
 will find your bed to-night, and with the other fourpence you must 
 begin a-trading upon. You may stare, but at the place where 
 
72 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 I'm going to send you to, there's many a poor soul whose stock 
 money is only a penny, and yet they can manage to keep them- 
 selves out of the workhouse, or the gaol too, by turning that small 
 sum over and over again. Ah ! in that place twopence is enough 
 to keep a lad like you for a year or two, and there's many an old 
 couple has lived on even less for a much longer time. Well, I'll 
 tell you," said the man, " for I see you're all eyes to know what it is, 
 — it's the water-crease market I means to send you to. I'll get you 
 an old tin tray at the ' Dolly,' Tuses, and start you fair with this here 
 sixpence ; and mind you, if ever you touches your stock money, if 
 you eats a farden of it, you're a lost mutton you are. Take my 
 advice, lad — the advice of a man who has seen more trouble, perhaps, 
 than any other cross-chap in London — and starve on and on rather 
 than make your fourpence a farden less ; for remember it's only by 
 making it more that such as you can ever hope to keep out of 
 a prison that has even now got its jaws ready wide open to receive 
 you." 
 
 A few moments after the above scene had taken place the boy had 
 been furnished with his tin tray, and was launched fairly into the 
 wide world of London, with sixpence to trade upon in his pocket and 
 an old thief's blessing on his head. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE WATER -CRESS MARKET. 
 
 „.The retail trad e in water-cre sses is followed by the very poorest 
 of the poor, as the stock-money for this calling need consist only of a 
 few halfpence. This class of street-sellers are generally honest, in- 
 dustrious, striving people, and consist of young children who have 
 been deserted by their parents, and whose strength is hardly equal to 
 any great labour, or old men and. women crippled by disease or acci- 
 dent, who, in their dread of a workhouse, linger on with the few 
 pence they earn by street selling. The children are mostly sent out 
 by their parents " to get a loaf of bread somehow," and the very old 
 take to it because they are unable to carry heavy loads, and anxious 
 to avoid becoming positive paupers in their old age. 
 
 " I'd do anything," said one, " rather than go into the house. I'd 
 sweep crossings, or anything; and I should have been there long 
 ago if it had not been for my wife selling creases." 
 
 The young boys and girls are said to be well-behaved, and to be 
 mostly the children of poor struggling people. The old and young 
 generally travel between nine and ten miles in the course of the day. 
 They start off to market at four and five, and are out on their morn- 
 ing rounds from seven to nine, and their afternoon ones from half- 
 past two till five in the evening. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 73 
 
 At the lodging-house to which Van Diemen Bill had taken young 
 Phil to get him a bed for the night, the boy met with an old woman, 
 who told him all about the trade he was in future to live by. 
 
 She was sitting before the kitchen fire, toasting a herring for her 
 supper, and seeing that Phil carried a little tin tray under his arm, 
 she at once recognised the symbol of the water-cress trade, and said 
 to him, 
 
 " I suppose you're at creases, young un ? Done pretty well to- 
 day ? I'm in the line myself." 
 
 " I've never sold in the streets yet," answered Phil ; and then he 
 told her the story of the great peril he had just run, and how the old 
 convict had behaved to him. 
 
 " Well, that Yan Diemen Bill is a kind cretur, and bless him for 
 it, though I ain't the pleasure o' knowing him," said the old crone. 
 " And how much do you say he guv you ? Eourpence ! You ought to 
 do uncommon well on that, for there's very few on us got more than 
 twopence or threepence, and lots on 'em only a penny. Why, let me 
 see, for a penny you ought to have a full market hand, or as much, 
 as I can take hold of at one time without spilling ; for threepence 
 you should have a lap full enough to earn about a shilling off; and 
 for fourpence you gets as many as I can cram into my basket." 
 
 " Then I shall make a lot of money," smiled Phil. 
 
 " Well, my dear," she continued, " it ain't so easy to earn a mouth- 
 ful of bread. Many a time I've walked through the streets, and when 
 I've seed a bit of old crust, as the servant has chucked out of the 
 door — maybe for the birds^-thinks I to myself, ' I can enjoy that as 
 much as the sparrers.' Besides, it takes a deal a laming to buy your 
 goods properly. Ha ! ha !" she chuckled, " the dealers can't take 
 me in, though. When one on 'em tries to give me a small hand of 
 creases, I says, ' I ain't a-going to have that for a penn'orth,' and I 
 moves to the next basket, and so on all round ; and that's what you 
 must do, I can tell you." 
 
 " Oh ! they shan't cheat me," said Phil, knowingly. 
 
 " Are you fond of getting up early ?" asked the old woman ; but 
 without waiting for a reply, she went on : " It don't matter if you 
 do or no if you wants to live by selling creases. I gets up in the 
 dark, by the light of the lamp in the court, and ain't it cold in 
 winter ! It pains my poor hands dreadful to take hold on the creases, 
 'specially after we've pumped on 'em to wash 'em. You're a strong 
 boy, and won't mind the cold so much, as us old folk. Ah, it's the 
 poor children, too, I pities in winter time. Poor babes, they make 
 my heart ache to see 'em without shoes, and their pretty feet quite 
 blue with the frost, so that many on 'em don't know how to set one 
 foot afore the other, but stands still and cries with the cold, poor 
 dears !" 
 
 Phil was beginning to get rather alarmed at the picture the old 
 woman was drawing of the privations and sufferings connected with 
 the business he was about to adopt. 
 
 "But I thought there was very few selling creases in the streets r" 
 he interposed. 
 
 " Yery few !" exclaimed the old thing — " very few ! Why, where's 
 
74s PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the lad lived all his days ? I tell you, the market's crammed with 
 'em of a morning buying their stock. In summer-time I've seed 'em 
 so thick that you might a'most bowl balls along their heads, and 
 there they are all a-fighting for the creases, making a reg'lar 
 scramble to get at 'em, so as to turn a halfpenny out of 'em. Why, 
 I should think at this time of the year there's as many as four or five 
 hundred on 'em down at Parringdon Market all at one time, between 
 four and five in the morning, and as fast as they keep going out 
 others keep coming in. Ah! if I was to say there's a thousand 
 young and old folks in the street crease-trade, I should be under the 
 mark." 
 
 " A thousand !" exclaimed Phil, with a downcast look. " I shall 
 never be able to do nothing if there's such a lot as that." 
 
 " Nothin' like trying, my lad," continued the crone, quite delighted 
 to have some one to listen to her. " Tou must push along as all of 
 us does. Now, I finds places where big buildings is going on very 
 good for selling at, and you must hunt for them. When the car- 
 penter and bricklayer goes to breakfast at eight o'clock, they enjoys 
 a relish with their bread. Then again, courts and little streets is very 
 tidy selling, but mews is the places. They're first-rate. Why 
 coachmens' families should be so very partial to creases, I can't say, 
 but they is. Perhaps it's the smell of the horses does it." 
 
 " I thought everybody liked creases," ventured Phil, who, from 
 having lived at a workhouse school all his life, had never tasted them, 
 and, indeed, had rather a confused notion of what the vegetable was 
 like. 
 
 1 " Thank Hevin !" answered the woman, " creases has their 
 attractions. They're reckined good for sweetening the blood in the 
 spring-time, you see ; though, for my own eating, I'd sooner have 
 the crease in the winter than I would at any other time of the year." 
 
 Phil and his aged tutor were soon dead to all their troubles, and 
 as happy in their slumbers as the richest and proudest of the land ; 
 and, leaving them there, we will close the old dame's account of the 
 trade by a fact of our own gathering. 
 
 There are, we learned, from accounts rendered to us by the sales- 
 men at the different green-markets of London, upwards of six 
 millions and a half of bunches of water-cresses sold annually in 
 London ; and these, at the retail price of one halfpenny a bunch, 
 gives a sum of nearly 14,000Z. for the amount spent annually in 
 water-cresses throughout London; then, dividing this amount by 
 the gross number of street- sellers, it shows a weekly receipt of 
 5s. 5d., and a weekly profit of 3s. 3d. accruing to each individual — a 
 fact which proves, not only how small is the capital required by this 
 trade, but how terribly limited are the earnings of the poor creatures 
 engaged in it. 
 
 Next morning Phil and the old woman were up and out in the 
 streets while the stars were shining coldly in the silver-grey sky. 
 As they passed on their way the streets were all deserted, and the 
 policeman, in his long great-coat, busy throwing the light of his 
 bull's-eye on the doors and parlour-windows as he passed on his 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 75 
 
 rounds, making the panes flicker with the glare as if a jack-a-dandy 
 had been cast on them. On the cab-stands, as they went shivering 
 along, they found but one or two crazy cabs left — the horses dozing, 
 with their heads down to their knees, and the drawn-up windows 
 of the vehicle covered with the breath of the driver sleeping 
 inside. Then they encountered the early coffee-stall keeper, with 
 his large coffee-cans dangling from either end of the yoke across his 
 shoulders, and the red fire shining through the holes in the fire-pan 
 beneath, like spots of crimson foil. Next, a butcher's light chaise- 
 cart rattled past, on its way to the early meat-markets, with the men 
 huddled in the bottom of the vehicle, behind the driver, all with their 
 coat-collars turned up, dozing as they drove along. Then some tall and 
 stalwart brewer's drayman walked by (for these men are among the 
 first in the streets), in his dirty, drab, flushing jacket, red night-cap, 
 and leathern leggings, hastening towards the brewery ; whilst here 
 and there they came to a bone-grubber, in his shiny grimy tatters, 
 with a lantern in his hand, " routing" among the precious mud-heaps 
 for rich rags and valuable refuse, before the scavengers were abroad 
 to disturb them. 
 
 Strange and almost fearful was the silence of the streets at that 
 hour ; so still, indeed, that Phil could hear the heavy single knock, 
 followed by the shrill cry of some distant chimney-sweeper, echoing 
 through the desolate thoroughfares as the sooty lad waited at the 
 door and shrieked " Swe-e-eep !" to rouse the sleeping cook-maid. 
 At one house, by the way, there stood a man with dirty boots and 
 loose, disordered hair, as if he had just left some saloon, giving sharp 
 and loud single knocks, then stepping out into the road to look at 
 the bedrooms, and see if a light was yet stirring within them. 
 
 On reaching the market, the shops all round about are shut. 
 The gaslights over the iron gates burn brightly, and every now and 
 then is heard the half-smothered crow of some cock caged in a 
 neighbouring shed or bird-fancier's back parlour. 
 
 By slow degrees the street-sellers come creeping up in every style 
 of rags, one after another, towards the gates. They shuffle up and 
 down in front of the railings, stamping to warm their feet, and rub- 
 bing their hands together till they grate like hearth-stoning. Some 
 of the boys have brought large hand-baskets, and carry them with the 
 handles round their neck, so that the basket covers their head as with 
 a wicker hood. Others have their " shallows " fastened to their back 
 with a strap, the holes at the bottom of some of the baskets having 
 been darned with rope or string, and others being lined with oilcloth 
 or old pieces of sheet tin. One little girl, with the bottom of her 
 gown tattered into a fringe like a blacksmith's apron, stands shiver- 
 ing in a large pair of old drab cloth boots, holding in her blue hands 
 a bent and rusty tea-tray. A few poor creatures make friends with 
 the coffee-man, and are allowed to warm their fingers at the burning 
 charcoal under the can; as the heat strikes into them they grow 
 sleepy, and yawn. 
 
 Phil and the old crone, with her rags and thin shawl drawn tightly 
 about her, join in the crowd, the boy staring and being stared at by 
 all around. 
 
76 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 As the church clocks are striking five, a stout saleswoman, well 
 wrapped in her shawl and cloak, enters the gates, and instantly a man 
 in a waggoner's cap and smock sets to work arranging the baskets he 
 lias brought up to London. One dealer has taken his seat, and remains 
 with his hands in the pockets of his grey driving-coat. Before him 
 is an open hamper, with a candle fixed in the middle of the bright 
 green cresses, and as the light shines through the wicker sides of the 
 basket it casts curious patterns on the ground. 
 
 Now the business commences ; the customers come in by twos or 
 threes, and walk about looking at the cresses or bending over the 
 hampers, the light tinting their swarthy faces, while they jingle their 
 halfpence and speak coaxingly to the dealer, to wheedle him into 
 giving them good bargains. The saleswomen sit with their hands 
 under their apron and their feet in an apple- sieve, talking to the 
 loungers, whom they call by their names as if they had long known, 
 them. 
 
 Every one is now pushing about, the children crying as their naked 
 feet are trodden upon, and the women hurrying off with their baskets 
 or shawls filled with cresses, and the bunch of rushes for tying them 
 up dangling from their hands. At one basket a street-seller, in an 
 old green cloak, has spread out a rusty shawl to receive her bunches, 
 and by her stands her daughter, in a thin cotton dress, patched like 
 a quilt. 
 
 " Ah ! Mrs. Dolland," asks the saleswoman, in a gracious tone, 
 11 can you keep yourself warm ? It bites the fingers like biling water, 
 it do." 
 
 At another basket an old man, with long grey hair streaming over 
 a rusty cape, is complaining " as to how he bought a lot of creases the 
 other morning of one of the saleswomen, and found, when daylight 
 came, they was quite white, so that he only made threepence on his 
 very best day. 
 
 " "Well, Joe, you should always come to those as knows you and 
 treats you well," was the answer. 
 
 As the morning twilight came on, the pigeons began to fly about 
 and walk along upon the more deserted parts of the market. »At 
 length the crowd thinned, and none but the very poorest of the cress- 
 sellers were left. 
 
 Many of these had come without money, while others had their one • 
 or two halfpence tied up carefully in their shawl ends, as though they 
 dreaded the loss of their little all. A sickly-looking boy, hardly 
 more than five years old, with the bare skin showing in gashes 
 through the rents in his clothes, now crept forward, treading with his 
 blue naked feet as a cat does over wet ground. The wretched child 
 stole up to the saleswoman, and said, 
 
 " Give us a few old creases, Jinney;" and the moment after off he 
 ran with a great bundle under his arm. 
 
 At another stall an old dame, who, from her rags seemed to be 
 beyond the possibility of obtaining credit, was paying for some cresses 
 she had long since been trusted with. 
 
 " Well, we couldn't lose much by giving credit, sir, if they was all 
 of 'em to keep away," said the saleswoman, in answer to a question 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 77 
 
 as to the honesty of the poor frequenting the market ; " but they are 
 generally honest and pay back, and even often remind us of trust we 
 have given them and forgotten. Whenever we do lose anything it's 
 mostly by the very poor ones ; though it ain't their fault, poor things, 
 for when they stops away from here it's either the workhouse or the 
 churchyard that keeps them from coming any more." 
 
 To visit the Parringdon water-cress market is the best of all ways 
 indeed to make oneself acquainted, with the fortitude, honesty, and 
 perseverance of the poor. These wretched cress-sellers belong to a 
 class so terribly poor, that temptation must ever haunt them like an 
 evil spirit ; and yet they can be trusted without fear of their failing to 
 pay the few pence they owe, even though they hunger for it. It 
 must require, too, no little energy of conscience on the part of the 
 boys and girls frequenting this market to resist the luring advice of 
 those they meet at the low lodging-houses. And yet they prefer the 
 early rising — the walk to market with naked feet along the cold 
 stones — the ten miles walk to earn the few halfpence— and the 
 pinched meal when they are earned — to the thief's or wanton's easier 
 life. 
 
 Verily the heroism of the unknown poor is a thing to set the 
 dullest marvelling ; and in no place in all London is the virtue of the 
 humblest, both young and old, so conspicuous as among the water- 
 cress buyers of Parringdon-market. 
 
 After the street-sellers have bought the cresses, they generally 
 take them to some neighbouring pump to wet them. This is done to 
 make them look fresh all the morning, and so that the wind shouldn't 
 cause them to " flag," for having been packed in a hamper all night 
 they get dry; moreover, the " hand," or quantity in which they are 
 bought, has to be parcelled out into six halfpenny bunches. Some do 
 this as they walk along, while others sit in one corner of the market 
 upon the bare stones, with their legs curled up under them, and the 
 ground round about green with the leaves they have thrown away. 
 In the summer one may see hundreds of poor things, youii^ and old, 
 sitting, thick as crows in a corn-field, tying their bunches up in the 
 market. Many, however, go and sit on the steps of St. Andrew's 
 Church, in Holborn, and there make up their stock of green meat 
 into " ha'porths." There are crowds of poor little souls to he seen 
 there of a morning between five and six. 
 
 It was to this spot that young Phil, and the old dame who had 
 undertaken to instruct him in the mysteries of the business, had be- 
 taken themselves. There they were, seated amid a bevy of old and 
 - young, all busy tying up their water-cresses, and chatting the while 
 to one another over the gossip of the market and the trade. 
 
 " I didn't see little Mary M'Donald this morning," said one ; " I 
 suppose her father's gone back to ' brick-laying' again. Poor feller ! 
 it's a load upon a man having eight small children to feed, and out of 
 work half his time. Mary's the oldest on 'em, and a very good girl 
 she is to pick up ha'pence." 
 
 " And I ain't for a long time set eyes on Louisa as goes along with 
 her," chimed in an old man, who had one side of his face paralysed; 
 
78 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " perhaps her feet's burst "out agin. Let's see, she ain't got ne'er a 
 father, have she ? She's as fine a gal for twelve as ever I met with." 
 
 " I remember Louisa's father well," said an old seafaring man ; 
 " he was a carpenter by trade. It was he as put me up to this werry 
 crease- selling when times was bad, and he was obligated to turn to it 
 hisself." 
 
 " Did you notice poor Mrs. Saunders a-crying this morning ?" 
 inquired a sickly-looking girl, who had evidently been a maid-servant, 
 of the woman next her ; " the parish only buried her husband yester- 
 day, and last night she was turned out of her lodging. Ah ! it's hard 
 upon a 'oman near seventy." 
 
 And so they went on chatting, the only subject they cared to talk 
 about being their miseries. Many complained of their ailments, and 
 described their pains and sores as minutely as if they were being 
 cross-examined by a doctor. Sickness was a favourite theme with 
 the aged, and they were evidently trying to outvie each other in 
 picturing the acuteness of their sufferings. One declared he had been 
 told at the dispensary that his case was the worst ever known, and he 
 was quite proud of it. Another made herself famous by stating that 
 she had been sent from the hospital as incurable. Others, determined to 
 take some share in the general conversation, detailed their coughs, or 
 the operations they had undergone, or the medicines they had taken 
 for this or that disease. "With the hale the discourse took a different 
 turn, and was generally about "the days when they were better off." 
 Mechanics, too old for work, moaned and sighed over the times when 
 they could earn " their six shillings easy." Ruined dressmakers 
 bragged of the number of hands they had once employed, and of the 
 rich ladies for whom they had worked. The eyes of one crook-backed 
 creature brightened again as he boasted of having " always lived as 
 footman in the fust of families," and a reduced laundress, throwing 
 up her head with pride, talked of the time when " she kept her cart, 
 and bought creases 'stead of selling them." 
 
 The little children were the only ones who talked about water- 
 cresses. With them "good bargains" and getting pennies for 
 ha'porths, were what they best liked to chat over. If ever the theme 
 was changed it was to gossip about eating, and then adventures were 
 told of how " a big bit of pudding with gravy over it," had been pro- 
 cured through a very ingenious method of making somebody buy the 
 stock of cresses at double their price. 
 
 "When Phil, by dint of watching how the little girls twisted the 
 rushes round each farthing bunch, had " dressed up" his tray as well 
 as he could, he started off on his rounds to make his first attempt at 
 street selling. 
 
 The lad, who was strong and healthy, startled the old people by 
 the vigorous way in which he went to work, crying, " four bunches a 
 penny, water-creases." 
 
 " He's got a woice, ain't he ?" said a broken-down coster, who had 
 lost his own. 
 
 " Ah ! creases 'ill soon take it out on him," replied a wretched old 
 crone, whose trembling hands were as transparent as smelts. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 79 
 
 For the first day or two Phil only just managed to pick up 
 sufficient halfpence to buy mere bread. At night he slept along with 
 a number of other lads in a half-finished house. Many a time as 
 he lay on the hard ground did he long for his soft bed at his old 
 school, and wish that he had never listened to the wild dreams of 
 Billy Fortune. 
 
 It was a little girl of eight who first taught Phil the knack of street 
 selling, and how, if he would succeed, he must force people to buy 
 his green-meat. She was herself as clever a little saleswoman as ever 
 made up a farthing bunch, but she was so small and weak that often 
 the boys in the streets, half jealous of her success, would try to 
 drive her from their quarter of the town — indeed it was in protecting 
 her that Phil first made her acquaintance. She had asked him 
 whether she might stop by him or even walk after him, for he seemed 
 to her to be the kindest and bravest boy she had ever met with. She 
 was a thin, stunted child, with a face white for want of food, and 
 wrinkled where the dimples ought to have been, and she sighed con- 
 tinually, as if overwhelmed with trouble. She half-frightened Philip 
 by the calm earnestness with which she talked of the bitterest struggles 
 of life, for she made him fancy that he, in his turn, would also have 
 to endure them. This child- woman of the world soon saw that Phil 
 was no adept at cress selling. 
 
 " I say," she cried, when Phil turned away from the shops at the 
 first denial, — " I say, you musn't do that I You see I'll go and sell 
 'em a bunch !" And to work she went, begging and curtseying, so 
 that at last the coin was given more in pity, or to get rid of her, than 
 for the sake of her goods. 
 
 " Hard work to sell any, ain't it ?" said Phil to her one day. 
 
 11 Ah! it's nothing to what it is in the middle of winter," was the 
 quick reply of the street baby ; " Then people says, * take your creases 
 away, they'll freeze our bellies.' I've had then to go so long without 
 eating that I was ill one day in the puddin.shop from the smell of the 
 meat." 
 
 Phil felt horrified, and cried out • " You're always talking in that 
 way, Ellen! It's enough to make a chap quite afreard of you." 
 Then, in a reproachful voice, he added : " I never yet seed you laugh- 
 ing ; why don't you ?" 
 
 " Where's the good of laughing ?" she replied. 
 
 " But don't you never play, nor nothink ?" asked the lad. 
 
 " Yes, sometimes of an evening we has a game of ' honey-pots' 
 with the gals in our court ; but it don't make me laugh, cos going 
 out with the creases tires me." • 
 
 "Then, why don't you go to bed if you're tired?" remonstrated 
 Phil. 
 
 " Well, there's mother's room to put to rights," was the answer. 
 " I cleans the two chairs, and I takes a flannel, and scrubbing-brush, 
 and does the floor." 
 
 " But you're a killing yourself," insisted the boy. 
 
 " Oh, no, I ain't!" was the calm reply. " It was much wuss in 
 the winter, and that ain't killed me, you see." 
 
80 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Struggle as Phil would, lie could never manage to put by anything 
 out of his daily earnings. It is true, he had grown quite an adept at 
 his work, and instead of sleeping under dry arches could now afford 
 to return to his twopenny bed at the lodging-house, but he found it 
 difficult to pay for his day's scanty food, and yet not draw upon his 
 little stock-money. 
 
 By dint of entering shops and following old ladies, as tea-time 
 drew near, he could always get rid of the contents of his tray and so 
 double his fourpence. But two-pennyworth of bread doesn't go far 
 with a growing boy, and many a night he had gone to rest as early as 
 the lodging-house-keeper would let him, so as to sleep his hunger off, 
 and avoid the temptation of spending the money that Van Diemen 
 Bill had given him. Indeed, it was only fear of the old convict that 
 kept him from "breaking into" his little bank, and ending his water- 
 cress life with a good gorge of hot food. 
 
 But at last the day did come. 
 
 It rained when poor Phil trudged early to market, with his tray 
 over his head in lieu of an umbrella. The wet seemed to have cast 
 a chill upon all water- cress eaters, for though he walked, about the 
 entire morning, he had only sold four bunches, and that was to a man 
 at a public-house, who had drunk himself into a fever. He tried all 
 his old " rounds," bat everywhere he met with the same answer of 
 " No ! it's too cold to-day, my boy." 
 
 "When, in the evening, he sat down in a gateway to count his 
 "takings," he found that he had only fourpence in his pocket, the 
 same as when he went to market in the morning. 
 
 Poor Phil's legs were aching with fatigue so severely, that he 
 almost fancied the shin-bones had given way, and w r ere bulging out 
 with the weight of his body. Still he went to work again, hobbling 
 and shouting out with all his might, and grew so energetic in his 
 endeavours to get rid of his stock, that he made tempting offers to 
 all faces looking over parlour-blinds, or full-length figures standing 
 at drawing-room windows, or heads seen down areas. He even went 
 so far as to attempt a sale with a footman cleaning some third-floor 
 windows, but the man declined to purchase, shouting back in answer 
 that he " always bought his creases wholesale — by the ton." 
 
 Determined not to give in until he was positively forced, Phil 
 crept towards the mews at the back of the squares, hoping that he 
 might be able to tempt the coachmen's wives with large pennyworths. 
 He caught two or three women taking in for the night the linen that 
 had been drying on the pole over the hay-loft door, but, though he 
 increased his lots to five bunches a halfpenny, still they wouldn't 
 listen to him. One, indeed, did look dow r n to examine the contents 
 of his tin tray, but it was only to abuse them by saying, " They were 
 turned as black as tea-leaves, and he ought to be given in charge for 
 trying to pisen people." 
 
 Tor the moment the idea crossed Phil's head that everybody had 
 taken a sudden dislike to him, and was determined to crush him ; 
 but he wouldn't allow his courage to give way, but once more crawled 
 back to the streets. He thought he would try what he could do by 
 entering shops, and selecting one where an old lady was stitching 
 
PAVED "WITH GOLD. '81 
 
 behind the counter, he pushed back the door and nearly startled the 
 dame out of her life by the suddenness with which he offered to let 
 her have all his tray contained for the small sum of threepence. 
 
 " Drat the boy," cried the lady, still panting with her fright, "and 
 what do you think I'm to do with all that green stuff; I ain't a 
 rabbit— am I ?" 
 
 The lad, as it grew late, felt quite spirit-broken. He sat down on a 
 door-step to rest himself and moan over his ill-luck. " Everybody can't 
 have given up eating water- creases all of a sudden," he remarked to 
 himself. " No, it's luck that's agin me, and is breaking a chap down ;" 
 and as he, like most street-vendors, had grown to be a firm believer 
 in the omnipotence of " luck," he felt convinced that he had better 
 " give in at once, instead of tiring himself to bits and doing no good 
 after all I" To make sure that his luck was really so resolutely 
 opposed to his welfare, he took his fourpence out of his pocket and 
 began tossing. He determined that if he won twice out of three 
 throws, he would make one more attempt, but if he lost he would eat 
 the water-cresses himself and give over for the day. The trial ended 
 in Phil jumping up with fresh hope in his bosom, and away he 
 trotted, shouting, " "Wa-a-ater-cre-e-ases, fine wa-a-ter-cre-e-ases !" as 
 lustily as if he was making his first morning round. 
 
 He trudged down Tottenham-court-road, and straight through St. 
 Giles, up Drury-lane, as far as Long-acre, and yet his tray was not a 
 bunch the lighter. He stopped at every pump to moisten the 
 hanging leaves of his cresses into the semblance of freshness, but 
 nobody would have anything to do with him or his goods. A kind 
 of disgust for the world, and all the water-cress eaters in it, made 
 Phil come to a sudden stand-still at a corner lamp-post, and, as he 
 leaned against it, mutter out, " I wish I had never been born, nor 
 nobody else neither." 
 
 He remained in this position some time, picking off the dead leaves 
 from his little bunches, and ruminating on the enormous drawbacks 
 there were against the chances of earning a comfortable independence 
 by selling water-cresses, when, on raising his eyes and looking about 
 him, he observed a crowd gathered round a shop-window on the other 
 side of the way. The window-panes were covered with a mist that 
 almost made them seem like ground glass ; but the mob appeared 
 to be very much interested in something that was going on within, 
 and Phil, like a boy, in a moment forgot his sorrows in his curiosity, 
 and crossing over made one of the lookers-on. 
 
 It was a cook-shop — not a fashionable eating-house, where there 
 are separate rooms for ladies ; where dead game and magnificent un- 
 cooked joints of the finest meat are tastefully arranged before the 
 wire-blind in the window ; nor was there a bill of fare framed and 
 glazed at the door-post, with the dishes of the day written in a bold, 
 round hand; no! it was a cook-shop wit^-the long window-board 
 lined with pewter, in which wells had been sunk like small baths to 
 receive the puddles of gravy in which joints of meat were perpetually 
 steaming. There anybody who had twopence in his pocket could 
 boldly purchase cooked flesh, only, instead of receiving it in a plate, 
 it was handed to him in a piece of old newspaper, thereby combining 
 
 G 
 
82 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 intellectual enjoyments with animal indulgences, for the possessor, 
 having eaten his dinner, might afterwards peruse a few of the events 
 that happened the week before last. Behind the counter of this 
 shop stood the cook himself, a sodden-looking man, with a face like a 
 washerwoman's hand. Philip gazed on him with admiration, as in his 
 suit of white linen he turned from joint to joint, brandishing a 
 carving-knife, long and elastic as a harlequin's wand, and whipping 
 off a half-moon slice from this leg, or whisking out a clever morsel 
 from that shoulder. 
 
 There was a pagoda of boiled beef, composed of some twenty 
 pieces pegged into a pile with a metal skewer, till it reminded 
 one of a file of receipted bills. There were legs of pork, from which 
 the crackling was slowly barking off, peeling away with long steam- 
 ing like the jacket of an over-boiled potato ; and there were legs of 
 mutton with the sides scooped out like the shape of a lady's collar, 
 and from them all rose a dense steam like that of a fire made with 
 green wood, which condensed on the windows, ceiling, and walls of 
 the shop, and then trickled in snake-like rivulets towards the floor 
 again. 
 
 Such sights as a cook-shop window may seem very sickening to 
 those who have dinner always ready for them at six o'clock, but to 
 poor Phil, who was so hungry with his sixteen hours' fast that he 
 had been forced to drink cold water to allay the cramps in the 
 stomach, the reeking steam that came up through the area railings 
 and curled out at the entrance door, carried with it an odour which 
 was perfume in his nostrils. The worst of it was that this smell of 
 meat brought back again the longing for food which he thought he 
 had drowned at the pumps, and the terrible hunger cramps again 
 began to lay hold of his stomach, grasping it like a hand. 
 
 He felt in his pocket, and commenced turning over mechanically 
 the fourpence, which was all he possessed in the world. 
 
 "I mustn't have anythink," he said to himself; "but I'll look at 
 the meat, and perhaps the smell will make me feel sick, and then I 
 shall be all right." 
 
 He watched everybody that entered. He saw one man buy a 
 plate full of scraps of meat, which, after they were shot into his 
 handkerchief, he commenced eating whilst his change was being 
 counted out. Another, a boy, bought some fried potatoes and held 
 them in the hollow of his hands, which he shaped like a basin, and 
 eat from as a horse would. Then poor Phil examined all the hot 
 joints one after another. 
 
 " There are some people eat meat like this every day," he couldn't 
 help thinking, with envy. 
 
 Presently one of the women servants in the shop hurried from the 
 back, carrying before her an immense iron tray filled with smoking 
 puddiug, which she placed on the window-board. This pudding Phil 
 instantly recognised as being what lads call " plum-duff." The ap- 
 pearance of this favourite delicacy created an immense sensation 
 among the crowd outside. It was brown as varnished oak, and 
 divided into large squares like a sample of tile-work. Several of the 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 83 
 
 youths near Phil were struck with the size of the pieces, and openly- 
 expressed their approbation of the proprietor's liberality. 
 
 "Ain't they big 'uns," observed one boy ; "and thick 'uns, too," 
 he added, after taking another look. 
 
 " With gravy it is just prime," remarked another, " and wonderful 
 filling at the price." 
 
 The rush which was made for this tempting pudding swept away 
 all Phil's resolves to be prudent. He could not resist the tempta- 
 tion, but gently yielding himself a prisoner to plum-duff, he was 
 soon struggling among the mob at the counter, calling out as loud as 
 the others, " Me, master, I was first, please." 
 
 What are six inches square of savoury pudding to a lad who was 
 up at four, and did not breakfast ? A pair of gloves in a carpet-bag, 
 a baby in a railway carriage, a horse in a common ! When Phil had 
 devoured his portion, he stood still for a while, and watched those 
 who were still munching. The sight was too much for him, and cost 
 him another penny. When he had eaten that to the last crumb, it 
 had almost the same effect upon him as drink, and made him feel 
 merry, and think what a silly fellow he had been to feel so cut up at 
 his bad day's work, and nearly break his heart with disappointment, 
 when, after all, his only misery was that he wanted something to 
 eat. It struck him that the best friend he had met with that day 
 was " plum-duff," and, determined not to part with so encouraging a 
 companion until he was forced, he continued crossing the threshold 
 of the cook-shop until his fourpence was spent. 
 
 When the boy had finished his feast, he gave up his place on the 
 steaming railings to those pushing behind him, and retired once more 
 to the lamp-post over the way to digest his food and think upon what 
 he was to do. His stock-money was gone, and it was useless to 
 think any more about water-cress-selling. He had run through his 
 little fortune, got rid of all his property, like a nobleman, by feasting, 
 and now he must begin the world again. By the way in which he 
 continued repeating inwardly to himself, " It can't be helped, it was 
 no fault of mine," it would almost seem that Phil's mind was divided 
 against itself, and that while one half was accusing him of extrava- 
 gance, the other had undertaken his defence. 
 
 He looked at the few water-cresses that remained on his tray. They 
 had swollen and turned soft, so he leisurely tossed them bunch after 
 bunch into the gutter. His greatest fear was lest Van Diemen Bill 
 should by any means become acquainted with his banqueting ex- 
 cesses. 
 
 " He said he'd break my neck if I played him false, and I know 
 he'd do it too," thought Phil. " Of course he'd never believe it was 
 no fault of mine !'* 
 
 To avoid the possibility of ever meeting with the eccentric patron, 
 he determined upon retiring for a short time from all kinds of street 
 life that would be likely to bring him in contact with the old con- 
 vict's powerful arm. 
 
 Where was he to sleep that night ? He couldn't pay for a night's 
 lodging, and he knew nobody who could shelter him till morning. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 £AVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 But lads turned loose in the street are seldom, when the nights are 
 warm, at a loss for some corner in which to double themselves up and 
 sleep. Like a dog that had strayed from its master, Phil, when it 
 grew late, sauntered along, examining every place that he thought 
 would make a convenient temporary bedstead. By good fortune he 
 wandered into a stable-yard, and found a cart half filled with hay. 
 He soon jumped into it, and placing his old water-cress-tray under 
 his head by way of pillow, he was in a few minutes sleeping as 
 soundly as if he rested on the softest feathers ever made into a bed, 
 and dreaming that he was back again at his old school, walking 
 round the playground arm-in-arm with JSTed Purchase. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 CATEN-WHEELING AND HEAD-OVER-HEELS. 
 
 The next morning Phil was roused from his sleep by a severe 
 jolting, and on rubbing his eyes he found to his alarm that his bed- 
 stead was moving. He had so completely covered himself with hay 
 that when the men had put the horse to they had not perceived 
 the youngster. 
 
 Like a stupid fellow, Phil in his surprise gave a cry, which made 
 the man at the horse's head turn round. 
 
 " "What are you doing there ?" inquired the driver, throwing in 
 such a big oath at the end of the sentence, that the boy instantly 
 tried to scramble "over the cart's side and be off. But the man seized 
 him by the arm before he could reach the ground. 
 
 " I thought there was no harm sleeping on the hay," stammered 
 Phil. 
 
 " And how do you think cows is to eat hay after you've been a 
 flattening of it? Do you think they likes their wittals warmed 
 up?" 
 
 Phil thought it better, instead of answering, to begin to whimper ; 
 but it didn't help him much, for the carter, before he released his 
 hold, gave him a couple of smart whacks with his whip-handle, which 
 made the shoulders burn as if they had been branded. 
 
 As the lad was scampering off, he suddenly remembered that he 
 had left his tray behind him. " It was worth tuppence," he said to 
 himself; and then he began to calculate'which was better — to try and 
 recover his property, and run the risk of another thrashing, or to 
 keep his body sound and lose thejmoney. As his shoulders were still 
 smarting, he preferred letting his pocket suffer instead of his back. 
 
 For four hours Phil wandered about the streets, scarcely knowing 
 what to do to pass the time, for all the shops were closed, and there 
 was nobody stirring. He leant against the posts, one after another 
 and whistled all the tunes he knew. 
 
 When the shop-boys began to take the shutters down, he found a 
 
r 
 
 PAYED WITH GOLD. 85 
 
 great relief in examining the interior of the various establishments, 
 and by his steady staring greatly annoyed some ladies at an outfitting 
 warehouse, who all the time they were "dressing up" the window 
 felt persuaded that he was a young thief watching for an opportu- 
 nity to burst into the shop and carry off a good armful of the best 
 fancy articles of wearing apparel. 
 
 By-and-by, he earned a slice of bread and butter by assisting a 
 sleepy-looking lad to polish the brass .name-plates and ornaments 
 that embellished the front of a chemist's establishment. 
 
 The sleepy boy made the first advances, by calling out, " I say, 
 you there, do you want a job ?" 
 
 It being entirely a matter of business, Phil answered, "What will 
 you give us?" 
 
 The heavy-eyed employer suggested that some of his master's rose 
 drops would be a fair price for a fair morning's work, but Phil, 
 having his suspicions of doctors' sweetstuff, suggested a more solid 
 kind of food as his remuneration, and, the terms being accepted, he 
 in a very short time frictioned up the dull brass till it shone like 
 ormolu. 
 
 It struck Phil that Trafalgar- square would be a nice airy spot for 
 him to rest in whilst taking his morning's meal. It was close at hand, 
 too, so that he needn't keep his breakfast waiting long. 
 
 Observing one or two gentlemen in difficulties who were performing 
 their morning's ablutions at the fountains, Phil determined upon 
 imitating them, and having cleared away with his hand the film of 
 soot and grease floating on the surface of the water, he made a clear 
 place and ducked his head in and out till he was out of breath. After 
 wiping his face in his cap, the boy chose for himself a granite post 
 which the sun had warmed, and jumping on to its broad, round top, 
 attacked his bread-and-butter with determination, biting out pieces 
 as big as pigeon-holes. 
 
 "When breakfast was over, finding his seat rather hard, he shifted 
 his position to the railings round the statue of Charles the First at 
 Charing-cross, and with the sun shining full upon him he gazed upon 
 the world as calmly as if he had been in an arm-chair at a first-floor 
 window. 
 
 There was an old crossing-sweeper working at the mud, and 
 clearing a path across the broad road by the statue ; and, as there 
 were very few persons to stare at, Phil amused himself by watching 
 him. 
 
 He was a fat-nosed man, with a forehead so filled with dirty 
 wrinkles that the dark waved lines resembled the grain of oak. His 
 costume was of what might be called " the all sorts" kind, and from 
 constant wear it had lost its original colour and had turned into a 
 species of dirty green-grey hue. He seemed to have a passion for 
 buttons, for his waistcoat was held together by a variety in glass, 
 metal, and bone. He wore a turn-down collar over his coat, which 
 was a dress one, long past its evening party-days, and faded into an 
 ironmould colour. It fitted so marvellously tight that the stitches 
 were stretching open like wickerwork. 
 
 But the most singular portion of his toilet were his boots. They 
 
 ere so much too long for him that the portion beyond the toes had 
 

 86 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 flattened down and turned up like a Turkish slipper, whilst the heel 
 was worn iuto a wedge-shape which made the foot rest sideways, like 
 a boat upon the shore. 
 
 When the sweeper saw that Phil was watching him he seemed to 
 grow uneasy, for he several times stopped in his work to wipe his 
 face with a piece of 'old flannel and stare back again. At last he ad- 
 vanced towards the boy. 
 
 " You must have a werry 'andsome hindependence, my lively 
 young cock salmon," he said, " for to spend the bloom of your days 
 observing human natur." 
 
 Phil didn't answer him, for he was busy watching the old fellow's 
 exposed throat. It was brick-red, and the flesh, from age, had con- 
 tracted over the muscles and windpipe, so that each time he swallowed, 
 the whole of the throat seemed to move as the tight skin was drawn 
 over the dents and ridges of the cartilage beneath. 
 
 The crossing-sweeper, angry at meeting with no reply, continued : 
 
 " You seems to have growed sarcy since you come into your pro- 
 perty. I can tell yer what, my little spring raddish, you was bound 
 'prentice to laziness, and now you're out of your time, do-nuffin is 
 your trade, you lazy young warmint." 
 
 " I ain't lazy," mildly answered Phil. " I ain't got no work, worse 
 luck. I'll help you, if you like." 
 
 This offer so startled the old crossing-sweeper, that he rubbed his 
 unshorn chin, on which the bristles stood up like the brass pegs on 
 the barrel of a musical box. It made a noise like stroking a hair- 
 brush, and the sound appeared to soothe him. 
 
 " Here, let's see what you're made on," he said, after a time — 
 " whether you're real solid flesh and blood, or mere spurious imita- 
 shun and counterfeits. Take this broom, and let's see how you can 
 polish off this side the stattey ;" and he pointed to the unswept por- 
 tion of the road. 
 
 Phil set to w r ork in a minute, thinking he was to have a penny for 
 the job. The old man leant against the railings and criticised his 
 labours, at the same time instructing the youth whenever he saw 
 occasion. 
 
 " Take your sweeps longer and firmerer, and give more play to yer 
 helbows — that's it! Send the mud off yer broom with a jerk! The 
 mud's as stiff and sticky as batter-pudding, and requires hartfulness — i 
 very pretty ! Don't grind the broom down so uncommon wicious, or 
 you'll have all them twigs wore down to stumps as quick as hair- 
 cutten. Never mind getting hot, it saves firen, and a moist skin is 
 wholesomest. "What are you about ? Can't you see where you're 
 a goen. Keep the line, my lad, as straight and regular as wirtue's 
 path, that's the way to be happy and get ha'pence." 
 
 When Phil had made the crossing as " smooth and reglar as a 
 hoilcloth passage" — to use his professional friend's words — he was 
 summoned back to the statue, and both sat down against the 
 railings. 
 
 " I'm agreeably disappointed in you," said the old fellow. " I'm 
 uncommon pleased with your condict. My name is Stumpy." 
 
 Phil exclaimed " Oh !" and, now he knew what to call him, once 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 87 
 
 more examined Mr. Stumpy minutely, as if he were a curiosity. 
 Feeling that a similar confidence was expected of him, he also told 
 his name. 
 
 " Philup ain't such a nice name as Thummus," said Mr. Stumpy, 
 thoughtfully. "I once knowed a Philup as was borned without 
 toes to his feet. I wish you'd been a Thummus." 
 
 Phil tried to look as if he also was aware of the invaluable bless- 
 ing he had lost. 
 
 "Yes," continued Stumpy, "Thummus is more of a poetry name 
 than yourn, and betterer to rhyme with, and, consekently, a sweeterer 
 name. But never mind, Philup, we all has our trials, and werry 
 lucky is those as is acquitted not guilty, discharge the prisoner." 
 
 This little moral reflection cast a gloom on the conversation, to 
 dispel which Phil asked whether Mr. Stumpy thought there was just 
 then an opening in life for a youth who had set his heart upon be- 
 coming a crossing-sweeper. 
 
 " Well, Philup, you certainly 'ave got gifts and qualities, and the 
 way you handled your broom just now give hopes of werry nattering 
 promise," began Mr. Stumpy, in an affecting voice ; " but, bless you, 
 sweeping ain't nothing to what it were. The only adwantage it have, 
 as I can call to mention, is the remarkable small amount as is re- 
 quired to set up shop. How much money have you got, Philup ?" 
 
 Poor Phil, half ashamed of himself, confessed he hadn't a farthing. 
 
 Mr. Stumpy seemed quite startled at the reply. For a few seconds 
 his speech failed him. At last, with an effort, he said, in saddened 
 tones, " Either your imperrence or your pluck is wonderful frothy, 
 Philup. If you've no money, where' s your broom to come from ? 
 How do yer expex to sweep ? Aire you to do it with a duster, or with, 
 your hand, scoopways ? or does you expex brooms grows from seed, 
 like cabbage and other stalky wegetables ?" 
 
 " But if I had a broom ?" ventured Phil. 
 
 " Philup, your notions is over-exacted !" continued Stumpy. 
 "You're a good boy, with clean dispositions, which I saw you 
 sluicing yourself like a pidgeon in the fountings not an hour sins, 
 though you didn't use my washing-basin. That there is my dressing 
 apartment," he added, pointing to one of the fountains, "and if the 
 board of wurks was to pervide jack-towels and the loan of a hair- 
 brush, it 'ud be the most convenientest in the uniwerse." 
 
 Seeing Mr. Stumpy had wandered away from the subject, Philip 
 gently led him back again to crossing-sweeping. 
 
 " It's a hard life, and not much of a living for anybody," answered 
 the old man. " As yer ain't a hincome-tax collector, I don't mind 
 tellin' you I tuk one and eightpence yesterday, and that's an un- 
 
 ing 
 
 broom, and all you can yarn you may keep." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," cried Phil. 
 
 "And mind this here, Philup," continued Mr. Stumpy, "if you 
 don't press the people you won't get nothing. They'll all say they 
 ain't got no coppers, but don't believe it, and stick to 'em. If you 
 
88 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 can cry easy, it's a werry good help. The women is the shabbiest ; 
 they always uses the best of places and gives the least ; but stick to 
 'em all the same, and say your mother's took bad, or something 
 affecting. The only place you has women on is the feelings. Say 
 mother's queer and the baby dying o' thirst, and that may fetch a 
 ha'penny." 
 
 Mr. Stumpy continued to give his pupil all the advice he could, 
 until the business of the day commenced, and called the professional 
 gentleman away to his labours. Having cautioned Philip to watch 
 him narrowly, he took up his station on the other side of the road. 
 
 Philip watched Mr. Stumpy's conduct minutely, but, for the life of 
 him, he could discover no very great display of art in the manner in 
 which he obtained his money. The old man took up his stand on the 
 other side of the road, and all he appeared to do was to touch his hat 
 whenever anybody passed. It struck the lad that it was one of the 
 easiest methods of earning a living that he had ever witnessed. 
 
 Mr. Stumpy, when the time came for him to go to dinner, 
 made, as he handed up his broom, a point of asking Phil whether he 
 had observed the art with which he had coaxed this old gentleman or 
 wheedled that old lady, or frowned at the young children; but 
 although Phil expressed great admiration of the sweeper's tact, yet 
 he coiild not remember witnessing it. 
 
 Just as Mr. Stumpy was about to hobble off to the public-house 
 where he took his meals, a boy came running up, shouting out, " I 
 say, old Stumpy, I'll give a penny for your crossen whilst you're 
 feeding." But, despite the offer, the old man remained true to his 
 word, and answering, " You're too late, Jim," left Phil as his true 
 and lawful representative during his absence. When Jim found his 
 bid was refused, he eyed Phil savagely. 
 
 " How much did you pay him ?" he asked. 
 
 " I didn't pay him nothink ; he give it me," replied Phil. 
 
 But Jim evidently had a poor opinion of old Stumpy's generosity, 
 for he exclaimed, " None of yer lies ; don't try to come cramming of 
 me ;" and sat down to nurse between his legs an old broom with a 
 worn-out stump, which had been worked as round as a ball. 
 
 Jim was a good-looking lad, with large eyes, whose whites shone 
 out with extra brilliance on account of his face being a light slate 
 colour with dirt. His hands were so black from want of washing, 
 that anybody might with reason have imagined that he had been 
 walnut-peeling, and stained them brow T n with the juice. His costume 
 was light and easy, consisting of a blackened shirt with so many rents 
 in it, that the only wonder was how he knew which one his head was 
 to go through, and a pair of trousers as full of slits as a fly-catcher, 
 so that they formed a kind of network, through which the flesh was 
 seen. 
 
 This young gentleman, with his legs curled up under him like a 
 cat's, sat watching Phil, who, imitating Stumpy, had taken up his 
 stand near the pavement, and was touching his cap to everybody. 
 But the passengers passed by without giving anything, and Jim 
 rolled about like a plaster tumbler, laughing with delight at the 
 failure his rival Phil had made. At last he seemed to take pity on 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 89 
 
 the misfortunes of the novice, for he crossed over the road, and, tap- 
 ping him on the shoulder, said, 
 
 " It's easy to see you ain't been, up to this game long. Why, you 
 ain't no good at all !" 
 
 " I don't know why they won't give me anythink," stammered the 
 downcast Phil. 
 
 " If you likes to go halves, I'll help you," offered Jim. 
 
 Phil was only too pleased to accept the proposal, for it struck him 
 he might learn a few of the tricks of the calling more easily from one 
 of his own age. 
 
 Directly Jim had fetched his broom, he went to work. His whole 
 nature seemed to have altered in a moment. As soon as anybody 
 set foot on the crossing, Jim was at them, grinning and looking 
 up in the face as he ran before the passenger, sweeping away with 
 savage industry, as if he took especial care in the person's boots. 
 He moaned, and begged, and prayed, and rolled his big eyes about, 
 too, in so extraordinary a style, that if they had been worked by 
 clockwork, and made on purpose, they could not have shown more 
 of the whites. Then sometimes he held out the dirty stuff bag he 
 called a cap, and exposed to view a crop of hair that had matted 
 itself into so many tufts, as if they were paint-brushes ; or else he 
 ran on, pulling at his forelock, as if pecking at it with his hand, as a 
 bird does at a hard crust. And all the time, too, that he was doing 
 these things, he was whining out, half coaxingly, " Give poor little 
 Jack a copper, your honour — a little copper for poor little Jack!" 
 
 Phil watched his companion for a few moments, and then, imitating 
 him as well as he could, he commenced the same kind of play. 
 
 His success was astonishing. He was a pretty boy, and the ex- 
 citement gave him a fresh colour, which had a wonderful effect upon 
 the ladies. His being decently clothed was also rather in his favour, 
 for one old lady even went so far as to say " he was a good boy to 
 keep himself so decent, and make so good an appearance as he did." 
 
 By the time Stumpy came back the boys had done excessively 
 well. They sat down to share the proceeds. 
 
 "I've taken fippunce," said Phil; "and here's your tuppunce- 
 ha'penny. How much did you get ?" 
 
 " Only tuppunce, on my oath," said Jim, coolly, though he knew 
 very well that every farthing of the fourpence in his pocket had been 
 earned on that very crossing. 
 
 "I thought I saw you take more than that," said Phil; for it 
 struck him that Mr. Jim's offering to "take his oath," even before 
 he was accused, sounded very suspicious. 
 
 " Search me, if you like," cried Mr. Jim, at the same time slipping 
 the other twopence into a hole in his sleeve. 
 
 "When Mr. Stumpy heard of the success of his protege, he felt a 
 little envious, but was nevertheless highly pleased. 
 
 " You and Jim had better stick together," suggested the old man ; 
 " he is a pushing lad, and full of derwices. He know so many dodges, 
 that if the Bank of England was to buy 'em at four a penny, it 'ud 
 be smashed up before he sold 'em half." 
 
 Phil and Jim walked away together. 
 
90 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 "You want a broom, don't you?" asked Jim, cunningly. "I'll 
 sell you mine for three 'arpence." It was a worn-out stump, only 
 worth burning, but stupid Phil paid the money. 
 
 " I say," said Jim, when they had walked a little further on, "I 
 wish you'd lend me your waistcut. I'm so jolly cold, and you've got 
 a coat." 
 
 Simple Phil thought the request very reasonable, and granted it, 
 but he never got the garment back again. 
 
 When they had reached St. Martin's Church they sat down on the 
 steps, and the new friend began to advise Phil as to what he would 
 in future be expected to do. 
 
 " I works in a gang," said Jim, " and we has all the crossings from 
 here right up to Waterloo-place. Jack Drake — as we calls ' the Duck' 
 — is our Captain, and we've made Teddy Plight, our king because 
 he's the best tumbler of the lot of us. When I takes you on to the 
 crossing, they'll try to pitch into you, but you mustn't mind that, 
 and I'll stick up for you. Hit 'em hard. You don't mind being 
 larrupped, do you ?" 
 
 "Not that I know of," answered Phil, so readily that he gave Jim 
 the impression that, on the contrary, he was rather partial to the 
 amusement. 
 / "And, I say, there's something else," added Jim. 
 
 " What's that ?" asked Phil, trembling lest the' difficulty should 
 be insurmountable, for he had set his heart upon crossing-sweeping. 
 
 " You know you must give me third of all you takes, or I shan't 
 have nothink to do with you," stipulated the blackguard little 
 usurer. 
 
 All preliminaries being agreed to, the couple moved forward to join 
 the gang. It so happened that they were just then working the 
 crossing between the Lowther-arcade and the passage by the side of 
 St. Martin's churchyard. 
 
 The moment Phil, carrying his broom, was seen by the young 
 rogues, a shout was raised of " Here's afresh 'un ! here's a Greek !" 
 and they all gathered round him, holding their handles as if they 
 meant a fight. 
 
 "Are you going to sweep here?" asked a very little fellow in a 
 very pert tone. 
 
 "All right, Teddy," put in Jim, "he's one of the right sort — a 
 friend of mine." 
 
 Teddy didn't seem to think it was all right, for he answered : 
 
 " There's too many of us by a long sight, and it won't do ;" and as 
 if to show that he meant what he said, he hit poor Phil over the head 
 with his broom and ran oif. 
 
 "All the boys called out, "Where's the Duck — where's Jack 
 Drake?" 
 
 A kind of fight had commenced when Jack made his appearance. 
 A mob, too, had begun to collect, and a policeman was seen approach- 
 ing in the distance. Under these circumstances, the first thing Mr. 
 Drake did was to shout out, " What are you making a row for ?" 
 the next was to order an adjournment to the " Jury House," by 
 
J^. 
 
 h 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 91 
 
 which important name the steps of St. Martin's Church were dis- 
 tinguished by the band. 
 
 On the way to the Jury House, Jim whispered in the Captain's 
 ear that the new comer was willing to pay his footing to the amount 
 of twopence, a statement which seemed to please the Duck, for he 
 smiled and winked. 
 
 The King, as Master Teddy Plight was called by his companions, 
 was a small-featured boy about as tall as a mantel-piece, and with a 
 pair of grey eyes that were as bright and twinkling as chandelier- 
 drops, and moved about suddenly and quickly as mice. He was clothed 
 in a style of comparative magnificence befitting his title, having on 
 a kind of dirt-coloured shooting-jacket of tweed, the edges of which 
 were quickly fraying into a kind of cobweb trimming at the edges. 
 His royal highness' s trousers were rather faulty, for at both the 
 knees there was a pink wrinkled dot of flesh, and the length of the 
 pants was too great for his majesty's short legs, so that they had been 
 rolled up like a washerwoman's sleeves, making a thick roll about 
 the feet, which, though wonderfully small, required a good deal of 
 washing to render them attractive, and set-off their beauty of 
 formation. 
 
 In the course of that day Philip had many opportunities of witness- 
 ing his majesty's wondrous tumbling powers. He would bend his 
 little legs as round as the long German sausages in the ham-and-beef- 
 shops, and when he turned head-over-heels, he curled up his tiny and 
 ' august body as closely as a wood-louse, and then rolled along, wab- 
 bling over like an egg. 
 
 On the other hand, The Duck, or to give him his proper rank, 
 Captain Jack Drake, was a big boy, with a face devoid of the slightest 
 expression, until he laughed, when the cheeks, mouth, and forehead 
 instantly became crumpled up with a wonderful quantity of lines and 
 dimples. His hair was cut short, and stood up in all directions, like 
 the bristles of a hearth-broom, and was of a light dust tint, matching 
 with the hue of his complexion, which also, from neglecting to wash 
 himself, had turned to a decided drab, or what house-painters term a 
 stone colour. He had lost two of .his big front teeth, which caused 
 his speech to be rather thick, though it enabled him to be an expert 
 whistler, and which also allowed the tongue, as he talked, to appear 
 through the opening, in a round nob like a raspberry. 
 
 Captain Drake's regimentals were in a shocking condition ; he 
 had no coat, and his blue-striped shirt was as dirty as a Prench 
 polisher's rags, and so tattered that the shoulder w r as completely bare, 
 and the sleeve hung down over the hand like a big bag. Of 
 course he had no shoes on, and his black trousers, which were, with 
 grease, gradually assuming a dull, leathery look, were fastened over 
 one shoulder by means of a brace composed of bits of string. 
 
 The solemn conclave at the Jury House ended in an uproar which 
 required all the influence of the Duck to quell, and nearly ended in 
 the King himself throwing up the broom of office, and resigning his 
 throne. But Jim, by mortgaging Phil's future earnings to the 
 amount of ninepence, at length succeeded in satisfying all parties. 
 
92 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 The knowing Jim having already had some experience in Phil's 
 success, took him with him to a crossing by themselves ; and he was 
 right, too, for they both did so well that by nine o'clock they had 
 made Is. 3d. each. They might have earned more, only it came on to 
 rain, so Jim said he should knock off for the night. 
 
 " "We in general goes up to the Haymarket, and tumbles and begs 
 about there until two or three in the morning," said Jim, "but it 
 would be no go to-night in the rain, so I shan't bother with it. I'll 
 take you to-morrow instead." 
 
 "Whilst going home, Jim showed Phil the shops where he usually 
 bought his eatables. 
 
 " I shall buy a pound of bread," said Jim, " because I've done pretty 
 tidy, that's tuppence-farden — best seconds ; and a farden's worth of 
 dripping — that's enough for a pound of bread — and a ha'porth of 
 tea, and a ha'porth of brown sugar. We've got cups and saucers 
 where we lodge." 
 
 " Don't you ever eat meat ?" asked Phil, who was fond of it. 
 
 " Yes, once or twice a week we get meat," answered Jim. " We 
 club together and go into Newgate market and get some prime 
 pieces cheap, and boils them at home. We tosses up who shall have 
 the biggest bit, and we divide the broth, a cupful each, until it's lasted 
 out." 
 
 " I say, where shall I sleep ? I haven't got e'er a place," said Phil, 
 whom these pleasing visions of Jim's home had roused to a sense of 
 his destitution. 
 
 "Haven't got a crib!" answered the crossing-sweeper. " You'd 
 better come along with us. It's only thruppence anight, and there's 
 a stunning nice flock-bed where four on us can sleep easy and com- 
 fortable, and the covering is so warm it makes a cove steam in no 
 time. Besides, it's betterer than a regular lodging-house, for if you 
 want a knife or a cup, you don't have to leave nothink on it till it's 
 returned." 
 
 The two boys started off for Drury-lane, and entered one of the 
 narrow streets which branch off from that long thoroughfare like the 
 side-bones of a fish's spine. 
 
 It was one of those streets which, were it not for the paved cart- 
 way, would be called a court. On the night in question the drizzling 
 rain had driven all the inmates in-doors ; but its appearance in the 
 daytime, when the sun is shining, is very different. Then at each 
 side of the entrance in Dury-lane is seated a costerwoman with her 
 basket before her, and her legs tucked up mysteriously under her 
 gown into a round ball. They both remain as inanimate as if they 
 were a couple of carved trade-signs placed there to show that coster - 
 mongers dwell in the street, and it is only when a passenger passes 
 that they give any signs of life, by calling out in a low voice, like 
 talking to themselves, " Two for three-harpence, herrens," and 
 " Poine honneyens." 
 
 This street is like the descriptions travellers have given of tho- 
 roughfares in the East. Opposite neighbours cannot exactly shake 
 hands out of the windows, but they can chat together very com- 
 fortably ; and indeed, all day long, women are seen with their arms 
 
PAVED WITDZ GOLD. 93 
 
 folded up like cats' paws, leaning from the casements and conversing 
 with their friends over the way. 
 
 Nearly all the inhabitants are costermongers, and the narrow cart- 
 way seems to have been made just wide enough for a truck to wheel 
 down it. The owners of a beer-shop and a general store, with a 
 couple of sweeps, whose residences are distinguished by a broom over 
 the door, seem to form the only exceptions from the street-vendors who 
 inhabit the court. 
 
 On entering the place, it gives you the notion of belonging to a 
 distinct colony, or as if it formed one large home, or private resi- 
 dence ; for everybody seems to be doing just what he or she likes, 
 and the way in which any stranger who passes is stared at, proves 
 that he is considered in the light of an intruder. Women squat 
 on the pavement, knitting and repairing their linen; the door- 
 ways are blocked up with bonnetless girls who wear their shawls over 
 their heads, as Spanish women do their mantillas ; and the coster 
 youths, in their suits of corduroy, ornamented with brass buttons, are 
 chatting with the maidens, and loll against the house walls as they 
 smoke their pipes, blocking up the pavement with no more ado than 
 if they were in a private garden. Little children find that the kerb- 
 stone makes a convenient seat ; and parties of men seat themselves on 
 the footway and play with cards which have been thumbed to the 
 colour of brown paper, making the points they gain with chalk upon 
 the flag-stones. 
 
 The parlour windows which look into the street have all of them 
 wooden shutters as thick and clumsy as the flaps to a kitchen table, 
 and the paint is turned to the dull colour of a greased slate. Some 
 of these shutters are evidently never used as a security for the dwell- 
 ing, but only as a table upon which to chalk the accounts of the day's 
 street-sale. 
 
 Before some of the doors are costermongers' trucks — some standing 
 ready to be wheeled oif, others just brought home, stained and muddy 
 with the morning's work. A few costers are seen dressing up their 
 barrows, arranging the sieves of waxy-looking potatoes ; others taking 
 the stiff" herrings — browned like a meerschaum with the smoke they 
 were dried in — from the barrels that look as clean as a captain's 
 biscuit, and spacing the fish out in penn'orths on their trays. 
 
 ' You can almost tell what each costermonger is out selling that day 
 by the heap of refuse swept into the road before the door. At one 
 place is a mound of blue mussel-shells — at another a pile of the outer 
 leaves of brocoli and cabbages, turning yellow and slimy with bruises 
 and moisture. 
 
 Hanging up beside some of the doors are bundles of strawberry- 
 pottles, stained red with the fruit, and their pointed ends sticking out 
 in all directions, like the rays of a monster compass. Over the trap- 
 doors to the cellars are piles of market-gardeners' sieve-baskets, all 
 ruddled like a sheep's back with big red and blue letters. In fact, 
 everything that meets the eye seems to be in some way connected 
 with the coster's trade. 
 
 From the upper windows poles stretch out across the court, on 
 which blankets, petticoats, and linen are drying; and so numerous 
 
94i PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 are these poles that they remind one of the flags hung out at a Paris 
 fete. Many of the sheets have patches as big as trap-doors let into 
 their centres, and the blankets are — some of them — as full of holes as 
 a pigeon-house. 
 
 " Bows" are very frequent in such a court. The first day Phil 
 passed at his new residence he had the opportunity of witnessing one. 
 He couldn't tell how it began. All he saw was a lady, whose hair 
 wanted brushing, leaning out of a first-floor window, and haranguing 
 a crowd beneath, throwing her arms about her as if she was struggling 
 in the water, and in her excitement nearly pitching her body half-way 
 out of her temporary rostrum, with the same energy as that with 
 which Punch is made to jerk himself over his theatre. 
 
 "He dragged her," she shouted, "by the hair of her head for at 
 least ten yards into the court — the villun ! and then he kicked her, 
 and I see the blood on his boot ! Oh, you murdering hound, you ! you 
 villun !" 
 
 She shook her fist at a sweep — as black as a fly — who had been 
 behaving in this cowardly way to some poor creature. Still the man 
 had his defenders in the women around him. One with very shiny hair, 
 and an Indian handkerchief round her neck, answered the lady in the 
 window, calling her "a d — d old cat," whilst the sweep's wife rushed 
 about, clapping her hands together as quickly as if she were applaud- 
 ing at a theatre, and calling somebody "an old vagabond as she 
 wouldn't dirty her hands to fight." 
 
 This row had the effect of drawing all the dwellers in the court to 
 their windows, many of whom inquired, " "What's up with old 
 Parkers ?" Their heads popped out as suddenly as dogs from their 
 kennels in a fancier's yard. 
 
 When the two lads reached the door of the house where the gang 
 lived, Jim stopped suddenly to say to Phil, 
 
 " Don't mind what old Mother O'Donovan says to you. We calls 
 her Mother Doo-nuffin. She's not a bad sort, when she isn't drunk. 
 And, I say, don't pay her if she's lushy, 'cos she's sure to forget all 
 about it in the morning, and want you to pay again." 
 
 With this admonition, Phil stumbled after his companion up some 
 stairs, which, in the dark, seemed to him to be all wedge-shaped, and 
 to be continually twisting round. 
 
 At last Jim stopped and opened a door. As he entered the room 
 he cried out, " Mother, I'm always doing you a good turn. Here, 
 I've brought you a new lodger." 
 
 " If he's got threepence he's intirely welcome," answered a shaky 
 voice from inside. So Phil, having that sum, stepped boldly forward 
 and presented himself to his landlady. She was dressed in a linen 
 jacket, which joined on to a short petticoat, and as her naked feet and 
 a considerable portion of the legs were visible, she had something the 
 appearance of a bathing- woman. She wore a frilled nightcap, which, 
 from her having no hair, fitted her head as tight as a bladder. 
 
 "You're a nice-looking boy enough," she said, eyeing Phil; "I 
 hope you'll behave yourself and pay your rent regular, and not follow 
 the example of ' The Duck,' who niver has a penny in his dirtie 
 pocket." 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 95 
 
 If she was pleased with Phil's looks, he was rather startled by 
 hers, for one of her eyes was slowly recovering from a blow, and her 
 lip, too, was cut and swollen. 
 
 "Is it my oieye you're looking at, child?" she said, noticing his 
 surprise. " It was a dirtie blackgeyrd gave it me, and turned it as 
 blue as a mussel." 
 
 The room was scarcely larger than a larder, and the ceiling was so 
 low that a fly paper, suspended from a clothes-line, was on a level 
 with the head, and had to be carefully avoided when moving about. 
 One corner was completely filled up with a big four-post bedstead, 
 which fitted into a kind of recess as perfectly as if it had been built 
 to order. There were two forms lying asleep in this bed, and by a 
 round, fair arm, put out to pull up the coverlid, they were evidently 
 women. The old landlady had endeavoured to give the dwelling a 
 homely look of comfort by hanging about the walls little black-framed 
 pictures, scarcely bigger than pocket-books. Most of them were 
 sacred subjects, principally of saints, with large yellow glories round 
 their heads as big as straw hats ; though between the drawings of 
 two Apostles, undergoing their martyrdom, was an illustration of a 
 red-waistcoated " Jolly Sailor," smoking his pipe, and the Adoration 
 of the Shepherds, ingeniously coloured in red, blue, and yellow, was 
 matched on the other side of the fireplace by a portrait of Daniel 
 O'Connell in a gorgeous cloak. 
 
 The chest of drawers was covered over with a green-baize cloth, on 
 which books, shells, and clean glasses were tidily set out. 
 
 The first thing Jim did on entering was to wash his muddy feet. 
 "Whilst he was doing this, Phil whispered to him, " "We don't all 
 sleep in that bed, do we ?" 
 
 " Of course not," answered Jim, " our place is in the next room, a 
 fust-rate turn-out !" 
 
 They had scarcely been home ten minutes before another of the 
 boys made his appearance. It was one that Phil had never seen 
 before. 
 
 Mike w as a short, stout-set youth, with a face like an old man's, 
 forthe feafures were hard and defined, and the hollows had got filled 
 up with dirt, like a wood carving. This youth wore a man's coat, 
 which made him look all body, for the waist reached to his knees. 
 His hair, too, was very peculiar, for it spread out from the crown 
 like a tuft of grass where a rabbit has been squatting. 
 
 The boy's countenance was so dirty that Mother Doo-nuffin roared 
 out in horror when she saw him. The rain had beat in his face, and 
 he had rubbed it with his muddy hands until it was marbled like a 
 copybook cover, with circles, streaks, and dots. 
 
 " You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mike — and that's Gospel 
 truth — not to go and sluice the muck off yourself. Instead of wash- 
 ing, like a Christian, you've been larking with them girls over the 
 way." 
 
 A voice under the bed-clothes cried out, " Yes, I seed him along 
 with them, going on with their pranks." 
 
 Mike laughed feebly, and replied, " I can't get this here off with- 
 out a drop of hot water." But the old lady indignantly silenced him, 
 
96 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 by screaming out, "And haven't you had time to heat gallins by 
 this time ?" 
 
 About eleven o'clock the remainder of the gang returned home, 
 wet through, and tired out. The moment the old woman saw the 
 Duck she began to attack him. 
 
 " Where's the rent you owe me, Mr. Drake ? I know you've got 
 money, so cash up." 
 
 "Ah, you are hard upon a chap," pleaded the Duck. "It's the 
 candid truth I'm telling, when I say, I can't tell you the last shilling 
 I handled." 
 
 "For shame on yer, Drake — for shame on yer!" cried the land- 
 lady ; " now didn't you make six shilling last week — now, spake Bible 
 truth— didn't you ?" 
 
 " What ! six shillings !" cried the Duck, " six shillings ! — it would 
 make a bright youth of me." And he looked up to the ceiling, and 
 shook his hands. " Why, I never heard of such a sum. I did once 
 see half-a-crown ; but I don't know as I ever touched one." 
 
 " xhin," roared the old lady, " it's because you're idle, Drake, and 
 don't study when you're on the crossing, but lits the people go by 
 without ever a word. That's what it is !" 
 
 The Duck, who made more money than any one else in the gang, 
 pretended to feel the truth of the reproach, and said, with a sigh, 
 
 " I knows I am fickle-minded." 
 
 " Look at Teddy Flight," continued the dame, " he's not aquarther 
 your size, Drake, and yet he brings home his eighteenpence reg'lar. 
 I blush for yer, Drake ; you're disgracing the world by living in 
 it and never paying a penny of the rint all the time." 
 
 To escape being scolded, the Duck retired to rest and was speedily 
 followed by the others. 
 
 The bedroom was merely an empty apartment, with a big mattress 
 on the floor. 
 
 They remained talking for some time before they went to sleep, 
 and the conversation — for the sake of Phil — turned upon the science 
 of throwing cart-wheels or eaten- wheeling as they termed it, coupled 
 with the art of turning head over heels. 
 
 " I was the first as ever did caten-wheeling on a crossing," said 
 the Duck, proudly, " and I learnt the others to do it. That's why I 
 was made Capten, because I was the best tumbler." 
 
 " Ah, Teddy Flight is the one to tumble, though !" cried Jim, " go 
 along the streets like any think, he can ! Ah, to see him and the 
 Duck have a race, it is just beautiful ! Away they goes, but Teddy 
 leaves him a mile behind in less than no time." 
 
 The Duck said humbly, " I called Teddy the King of Tumblers — 
 the King, and I'm Capten — yet I learned him. Ah ! I'd give all my 
 health and strength to that little feller if I could, I'm that proud of 
 him." 
 
 " Does it hurt, tumbling ?" asked Phil. 
 
 Mike, who was taking lessons in the art, broke in, " Hurt ! I be- 
 lieve you. It makes the blood come to the head and sets all the 
 things about a turning. And don't it tire you too, that's all. Only 
 try it." 
 
 Phil had alr§ady made up his mind to do so. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 97 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 ON THE CROSSING. 
 
 Philip Merton is a crossing-sweeper — a most accomplished and 
 successful crossing-sweeper. 
 
 He has ended his apprenticeship, and thoroughly learned his busi- 
 ness, He no longer pays black mail to the usurious Jim, nor lends 
 halfpence, that are never to be returned, to Captain Drake ; neither 
 does he trouble himself about discharging the taxes so whimsically 
 imposed by that most free-and-easy monarch, King Teddy Plight the 
 First. If he chose, he could depose that upstart sovereign, or cause 
 the gallant Duck to be degraded to the ranks; for Phil has such 
 " luck on the crossing," that the half-dozen little rips who compose 
 fhis muddy band are envious of his success, and treat him with the 
 greatest respect. Phil has only to raise the broom of rebellion, and 
 the dynasty of the Flights would be puffed out as easily as a rush- 
 light in a gale of wind. 
 
 And here it may, perhaps, be as well to remark that the great com- 
 mercial principle of superior wealth has the same influence over little 
 dirt-stained crossing-sweepers as over great and glorious City gentle- 
 men. The day Phil cleared four shillings, he was complimented and 
 carnied by his ragged companions as thoroughly as was Mr. Stearine, 
 of the firm of Margerine and Co., when he appeared on 'Change, after 
 realising a cool thirty thousand by the rise in tallow. 
 
 In the arts of throwing " cart-wheels " and turning head over heels, 
 Phil has become so efficient that even the Duck himself stands en- 
 tranced and fascinated when watching his graceful tumbling. The 
 compliments paid by the Duck are quaintly vulgar, but unmistakably 
 sincere. " The first time I see him," remarks the ragged Captain, " I 
 could see he were all there, and a rare bit of stuff." 
 
 "With his limbs outspread like opened scissors, Phil trundles along 
 the pavement, looking one mass of revolving legs ; so that, had a 
 Manx man happened to pass, he might have fancied the arms of his 
 native island had wandered from their escutcheon and come to London, 
 where necessity had compelled them to sell their casings of steel and 
 put up with tattered corduroy. Even that acknowledged bounding 
 favourite, King Flight, whose acrobatic feats had sent him head over 
 heels on to the throne, dares not contest with Phil for gymnastic 
 superiority ; and the great match made some fortnight since, " to 
 eaten- wheel" along the north side of Trafalgar-square for a wager of 
 threepence, has not yet come off, nor is it ever likely to be decided, 
 for his royal highness is very doubtful of the result. 
 
 But Phil has learned to do other things besides tumbling and 
 begging. He has won the admiration of this band of lawless mud- 
 sweepers by the fulness and fire of his big oaths. If he had worn a 
 beard a foot long, or if he had been a drill-sergeant, or the stage 
 
 u 
 
98 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 manager of a theatre, he could not have sworn rounder curses than 
 came from his boyish pouting lips. When he is angry he will roar 
 out his blistering oaths, jumbling them up together in senseless con- 
 fusion, for he has picked up the silly words without understanding 
 their meaning, and he throws them at his antagonists in the same way 
 as he would stones. In his quiet, pleasant, friendly converse, he 
 garnished his remarks with swearing, spacing out his words with 
 fiery exclamations, and rougeing up his sentences with powerful 
 adjectives ; but he does so, stupid lad, more because it makes his 
 companions laugh than from what he knows of their purport or the 
 use they may be to the phrase. "When any oath stronger than usual 
 is made use of, Mike, who is a great admirer of Phil, has been heard 
 to remark, " He do like a bit of scarlet ;" and Jim has more than once 
 observed, that " Tou might a'most see to go to bed by Phil's swear- 
 ing, it's so blazing powerful." 
 
 To hear these terrible words rise fuming from a child's dimpled 
 mouth, causes many well-disposed persons, as they pass along, to draw 
 in their breath with horror, for they experience the same shock as if 
 they had seen a babe playing with a sharp knife. Should any kind 
 enthusiast be bold enough to stop and counsel the silly boy, he soon 
 discovers how useless his admonitions are, for oath after oath de- 
 tonates in his face as if the lad were defending himself with a revolver 
 loaded with blasphemy, and all the gang, like so many village curs, 
 come yelping around the poor moralist, barking out their volleys of 
 curses until he is driven away. 
 
 The poor child, too, has acquired a dexterous knack of petty pilfer- 
 ing. To show his skill at purloining, he snatches up cabbages from 
 outside greengrocers' shops and throws them away again when he is 
 out of sight. The old man who sells sheep' s-trotters outside the public- 
 house in the Hay market fears Phil more than a policeman, for when- 
 ever the young rip passes, either the mustard spoon is whipped up, 
 and all covered as it is with the yellow condiment, rammed down the 
 vendor's neck, or else the bottom of the basket receives a vigorous 
 tap, which sends the dust-coloured articles of food jumping into the 
 air like parched peas on a drum. "When a dairy girl goes past, 
 swinging her body to and fro with the weight of her milk-pails, Phil 
 lifts up the lids of the cans and drops stones inside, which splash 
 down into the white liquid, and then rattle about inside the tin 
 vessel with a noise like theatrical thunder. He chalks the backs 
 of highly-dressed gentlemen ; he stuffs orange-peel into the hoods of 
 ladies' cloaks, and he pricks the quivering calves of fashionable foot- 
 men. At the general dealer's where the boys buy their bread and 
 dripping, nothing is safe from Phil's quick fingers. A slice of bacon 
 is hidden in the sleeve with the same dexterity as a conjuror passes a 
 card, and though the general dealer herself keeps her eye upon him, 
 he manages to rob like a clown in a pantomime, and apparently for 
 the same result, for all the pilfered onions, potatoes, and herrings are 
 afterwards flung about as in the " pelting " scene on the stage. Many 
 a time has an apple woman, whilst dozing on the kerb-stone, been 
 startled out of her life by the cries of " Hi ! hi !" the scamp has — as 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 99 
 
 if a cab were close behind her — shouted in her ear, in order that he 
 might, during her flutter, purloin the penny pyramids of fruit. 
 
 The innocent look that once gave interest to Phil's face, and made 
 wayfarers generous through pity, has now changed to an impudent, 
 roguish air, which from its archness amuses sufficiently to be profit- 
 able. He can twist his flexible features in twenty expressions in less 
 than a minute ; at one time appearing exhausted and suffering, then 
 stretching his lips into a smile as readily as a circus rider, or assum- 
 ing a sly raven's glance as he peeps up sideways into a lady's bonnet. 
 The monkey manners and buffoon tricks he has picked up give a 
 gloss to his begging, so that when the people look into his pretty face 
 and see it bright and restless as a jack-a-dandy, they are forced to 
 laugh, and then Phil knows he is sure to get a penny. 
 
 Poor little runaway boy ! the dangerous hour of his life is at hand. 
 Already he has thrown off the bashfulness of childhood, and nothing 
 is left but its weakness and folly. He has overcome that timidity 
 which was the careful nurse to his helplessness, and drew him back 
 from evil. Now the silly babe ventures into the world and engages 
 in its conflicts, knowing as little of its dangers as the infant that 
 holds out its dimpled hands to the bars of a lion's cage. How can his 
 weak mind, that blank whose future depended upon what was written 
 there, give him strength to avoid the temptations that smite down 
 strong men, even when fortified by the sense of right and wrong. 
 
 The care that watched over his infant days and laboured to fit him 
 for the struggles of existence has been upset by the experience of a 
 month. He had toiled up the hill of life ; his body had become 
 strengthened to the journey ; he was beginning to have a wider view 
 of the world and its objects, when suddenly he has wavered in his 
 - course, and the good of years has rolled swiftly down the slope into 
 the dirty ditch below. 
 
 The silly boy looks upon his present life as a holiday ; he laughs 
 at the time when he had masters over him, and grows extravagant and 
 uproarious with his freedom. Already has he become habituated to 
 the courses of his companions, and in endeavouring to imitate he sur- 
 passes them. 
 
 There is but one who could save Phil from the destiny that seems 
 to await him. Could Sister Bertie meet with him, could he but hear 
 her coaxing voice, he would run rejoicingly to her as a dog that has 
 strayed bounds to the call of its master, for he bears her an earnest love 
 which would make her reproaches sting him like whips, and force him 
 to obey her good counsels. Sister Bertie is his conscience. She is the 
 only one he dreads to meet as he stands in his rags on the crossing. 
 He thinks of her by day and night, she fills his bosom like his breath. 
 ' When he is tossing on his flock-bed, awake though his eyes are closed, 
 it is Bertie that will not let him sleep, for she is at his ear, whisper- 
 ing recollections of the peaceful days -gone by, and bringing back 
 memories that make him feel faint as they pass through his brain. 
 " Mother often wonders where you are," whispers conscience Bertie ; 
 and the boy's temples grow hot, and he lies so still that he feels his 
 heart beat with a dull weight that shakes all his body. 
 
 h 2 
 
100 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 In the darkness of the night when he shuts his eyes, Phil can, by 
 thinking intently, call up the image of any person that he resolutely 
 fixes his thoughts upon, and many a time has he summoned to him 
 the form of that tender-hearted woman, Nurse Hazlewood ; and then 
 she stands before him, vivid as the image on a stained-glass window, 
 with her eyes downcast, as he has so often seen them when gazing up 
 in her face. Then Phil can scarcely draw in his breath, and, choking 
 with fear, he tosses about, and tries to drive the shadowy form away. 
 As if he dreaded that those phantom lips might reproach him, he sobs 
 a out excuses to his " dear mother," and pleads so earnestly for pardon, 
 that sometimes his companions are awakened, and fancying he has 
 been dreaming, shake him violently. These regrets and sorrows are 
 the emotions that humanise the boy, and help to 'preserve 'Klin from 
 total ruin of soul. "Whilst his fellows are laughing at his impotent 
 oaths, or, in their rough manner, praising his last larceny, Sister 
 Bertie has her hand on his heart, tightening it with remorse, or he 
 feels a chill pass over his forehead, as if " mother" had breathed upon 
 him ; and then he answers the flattery with a forced laugh, that does 
 not rise from the chest with a joyous ring in it, but is dead and 
 toneless as a moan. 
 
 The laws by which the little community of associated crossing- 
 sweepers was governed were of so simple a nature, that, after study- 
 ing them for a matter of twenty minutes, Phil was sufficiently versed 
 in jurisprudence to commence his muddy profession without fear of 
 offending any member of the body. \ There was a rough notion of 
 honour preserved among these lads which condemned any attempt at 
 cheating among themselves, although, as a kind of compensation for 
 this privation, it was enacted that every other member of the human 
 family should be considered as a fair object of plunder, whom it 
 was perfectly right to cheat, defraud, trick, or otherwise impose upoih\ 
 The only system of punishment enforced under this muddy code wa^ 
 of a summary nature, somewhat resembling in speediness of execu- 
 tion the celebrated Lynch law, although no instance has yet been 
 recorded of death having followed its infliction, the culprit being 
 usually permitted to escape when the torture measured out to him 
 .bad reached to "within an inch of his life." 
 
 According to an act which was made and passed in the second year 
 of the reign of his majesty King Teddy Might, it was enacted that, any 
 boy attempting " to^crab," i. e. cheat, another, should then and there, 
 and without warning, "have a broom broke about him," or, indeed, 
 receive such other bodily injury as any member of the little com- 
 munity might feel inclined to inflict, such as kicking, hitting, or pull- 
 ing of hair. 
 
 By another clause . of this same act it was further ordained, in 
 order to put an end to the constant quarrels which arose during 
 business hours as to the rightful owner of the halfpence given by 
 the foot-passengers, that a system of " naming" should be adopted, 
 by which the boy who was the first to call out that he saw any- 
 body coming, should lawfully and of his own right be entitled to 
 take, receive, pocket, and apply to his own use, any money or moneys 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 101 
 
 that might be handed, thrown, or otherwise given by the wayfarers 
 aforesaid. 
 
 In order to conceal their language as much as possible from their 
 arch-enemy the policeman, a kind of slang was adopted by the 
 sweeping crew, which was supposed to render their proceedings 
 mysterious and unintelligible to any but themselves. Por this pur- 
 pose the rather degrading appellation of " toff" was given to all 
 persons of the male gender, whilst the insulting epithet of " doll" 
 was applied to every aged female, the younger members of the 
 gentler sex being known by the peculiar title of " doxy." If, while 
 they were begging, a policeman was seen to approach the crossing, 
 the signal of " tow-row" "Was instantly given, so that the gang might 
 have time to take to their dirty little heels and escape from the 
 Berlin-gloved grasp of the law,' which they all wdll knew highly 
 disapproved of alms-seeking in the streets. As a better precau- 
 tion against any sudden surprise from the constables stationed near 
 their haunts, each " active officer" of Scotland-yard had a nickname 
 given to him, which was generally of an insulting character. There 
 was " Old Bandy," a highly intelligent member of the force, so called 
 from the peculiar construction of his legs, which allowed an opening 
 shaped somewhat like a. horse-collar to be seen between his limbs. 
 Another was called "Black Diamond," from his having singularly 
 brilliant eyes, which shone out from his pale, cream-laid countenance 
 like blots. A third was known as " Bull's Head," owing to the 
 apoplectic appearance of his neck, and the tight, crisp curls which 
 covered his forehead. Besides these there were Messrs. " Cherry- 
 legs" and "Dot-and-carry-One," and " Shivery-shanks," all of whom 
 had earned their sobriquets by their offensive vigilance and strict 
 supervision of this more or less honourable Company of Crossing- 
 sweepers. 
 
 A system of compulsory fines had, shortly before Phil's introduc- 
 tion to the society, been instituted by the Captain, who, being 
 the first to put it in force, had styled the measure " smugging," and 
 its operation was something like the following : w^e will suppose that 
 Mr. Mike has dishonourably endeavoured to appropriate to himself 
 Mr. Jem's " naming" of some approaching foot-passenger ; for this 
 want of courtesy the injured Mike would be justified in " smugging" 
 the offender's broom, or — if he wore one — his cap, and he would even 
 be held harmless should the confiscated property be thrown dow : n the 
 nearest area or into the most convenient water-butt. AVhile explaining 
 to Phil the working of this law, King Plight, to impress it thoroughly 
 on the novice's mind, made use of these remarkable words : 
 
 " I'm the littlest chap among our lot, but if a feller as big as the 
 Duck was to behave unhandsome, I'd smug something, and get his 
 ha'pence, even if he smashed me like a winder." 
 
 This sentiment pleasingly illustrates the strong determination ever 
 felt by his ragged majesty to see 'the laws of his dynasty properly 
 respected and carried out. 
 
 Owing to the late hours the gang were in the habit of keeping — 
 through their business engagements in the Haymarket, where they 
 were usually professionally employed until three in the morning — 
 
102 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the boys seldom made their appearance upon their crossings before 
 mid-day. 
 
 " I never stops out all night," said one of the band, a promising 
 youth of eleven, to Phil, who was inquiring into their habits ; " it 
 kills me for the next day. The Duck is dreadful for late hours — he 
 likes it ; but I can't manage nohow without my rest, for I bees so 
 sleepy that I ain't fit to handle a broom." 
 
 When Phil had become accustomed to his new life, he entered into 
 all the peculiarities of it as earnestly and noisily as the oldest hand 
 in the troop. If the weather was dry and the roads dusty, he gene- 
 rally preferred " tumbling" and " caten-wheeling" along the passage 
 by St. Martin's Church. Three or four of the young gentlemen 
 would take up their stand at the end near the Lowther Arcade, and 
 with their eyes intently fixed upon the bazaar-like thoroughfare, 
 await the approach of any " likely-looking" persons. Presently an 
 old lady and her child are seen advancing. 
 
 " A doll and a kiddy !" shout two of the lads in one voice ; and 
 immediately afterwards — to prevent disputes from their having 
 "named" them simultaneously — one of them adds, " Go you halves," 
 and the terms being accepted, they both commence twirling and 
 twisting like imps in a pantomime round the dame and her progeny, 
 who, startled at finding the muddy feet dart past her eyes rapidly as 
 the sails of a windmill, draws back in horror and disgust. 
 
 " Shy us a copper, mum," pleads one. 
 
 "Poor little Jack, miss," whines another; and then they both 
 writhe and pull their hair supplicatingly to the unprotected couple. 
 
 "A toff and a doxy," roars Phil, in his turn, as a fashionably-attired 
 youth, in earnest flirtation with an elegant damsel resting on his arm, 
 nears the "school." 
 
 Eut Phil has not noticed the little child that, laden with toys, is 
 trotting by the maiden's side, and the sharp-eyed Jem shouts out — 
 quick as the report of a pistol — " And a kiddy," and so claims the 
 " call," for it had been wisely enacted by King Plight that accuracy 
 in these matters is the sole method of business. 
 
 The lovers are checked in their sweet converse by the supple Jem 
 placing his broom behind him and assuming a " honey-pot" position, 
 in which attitude he rolls before them wabbling like a nine-gallon 
 cask, and at the same time imploring, in a voice rendered thick by his 
 head being held down, that the " Captain will give poor Jacky a little 
 sixpence." 
 
 Phil, by constant practising on the flock-bed in the sleeping apart- 
 ment of his lodgings, has arrived at that state of gymnastic perfection 
 that he can turn over head and heels about thirty times consecutively. 
 This talent has procured him a great deal of custom, even among 
 his companions, for, should one of them, who is unable to " tumble," 
 make a " call," he will depute Phil to perform for him, and share the 
 proceeds — if any. With gentlemen of sporting dispositions Phil 
 is invariably appointed to provide the acrobatic entertainment. As 
 soon as anybody wearing the natty tight trousers and flat-brimmed 
 hat peculiar to frequenters of betting-rooms is seen lounging afar 
 off, the boys know that nobody can coax so many halfpence from him 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 103 
 
 as Master Phil, and lie is always requested to give his performance. 
 On such occasions the lad generally styles himself " The little winner 
 of the Derby." After he has wabbled over some ten times, he stops 
 to see if the " sporting toff" is laughing, and even the faintest smile 
 is sufficient to send him trundling on again like a hat before the 
 wind. It is not an unfrequent occurrence for the sport-loving gent 
 to give the young monkey that peculiar allowance known as " more 
 kicks than halfpence," for he has been known to run at the curled-up 
 boy, and saying " Get out of that," administer a vigorous thrust 
 with his boot, which has sent Phil rolling like a football. 
 
 During their meal hours, which were by no means regular, the 
 boys would talk in a professional manner of the day's exploits. If 
 the earnings had been small, the conversation usually took a melan- 
 choly turn. 
 
 " They're a-gettin' pretty nigh sick of caten-wheeling," said the 
 King, sorrowfully, as, seated on a door-step, he munched his bread 
 and dripping. " It's enough to make a chap's 'art turn sour, it is," 
 he went on, his cheeks puffed out with the last mouthful until they 
 were as tight and round as a horn-player's. 
 
 Another of the Associated Sweepers, who was known by the nick- 
 name of the " Stuttering Baboon," spluttered out — "And 'ead and 
 'eels ain't 'arf a living for a feller, for if you only does it four or five 
 goes, they says * Oh, hany body could do that there,' and they won't 
 give nuffen." 
 
 " Dear, dear !" sighed the Duck, "money is tight ; it's like pulling 
 a tooth out getting ha'pence now. People's feelings has reg'lar 
 froze up to what they was." 
 
 "Ah!" chimed in Jem, " we works hard for what we gets; no- 
 body more so. And then there's the perlice always a-birching us so 
 spiteful." 
 
 Phil, too, would add his groan to the rest. " And such crammers 
 as I've heard people tell. One old chap says, ' I hasn't any coppers,' 
 when I could hear him a-playing with 'em in his pocket, a-rattling 
 on 'em like a tambourine." 
 
 If, on the other hand, the morning's receipts had been equal to 
 their expectations, the gang would laugh and make as much noise 
 over their twopenny entertainment as if they w r ere so many gentle- 
 men at a Blackwall dinner. 
 
 "Did you see how I forced that chap in the shooting-jacket p" 
 boasts Jem on such occasions. "Says he, 'I ain't got no ha'pence,' 
 and, says I, ' I ain't perticular if its silver ;' and he laughed, and 
 chucked me a fourpenny." 
 
 The " Duck," too, is in excellent spirits, and, contrary to his usual 
 habit, admits that he has done "pretty well." Referring to one 
 exploit, he says, " She gave me threepence ;" and a sweet smile burst 
 over his grimy face ; " and it were done up in paper, like a young 
 gal's curl on a Sunday morning." 
 
 At this point King Plight joins in joyously, " I seed a feller 
 a-courting a gal, and he gave me a 'hole handful of coppers just to 
 show off he were tender-hearted afore her." 
 
 " The most I got," chirps Phil, " was by following a 'oman with a 
 baby, and, says I, keeping close to the young un, ' Spare a trifle, kind 
 
104 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 lady, for there's five on us at home, and all took awful with the 
 small-pox ;' and says she, ' Keep off !' And she scrunches up the 
 child into a lump, and so I got sixpence." 
 
 "When the ground was muddy, so that a number of persons were 
 forced to make use of Phil's crossing, his pocket would fill rapidly 
 with halfpence. On one such day — it had been raining " beautifully" 
 all night, and the roads were dirty as the path round a piggery — he 
 had as much as a crown given to him, " and all in coppers, without one 
 bit of silver among it." As soon as he had collected a shilling, the 
 little fellow would run off to the general dealer's and deposit it with 
 " old Mother Savings-bank," as they nicknamed the woman. This 
 prudent step was taken through fear of getting into trouble with the 
 police from begging ; for all in this sweeping community well knew 
 that, if when taken into custody money was found on them, not only 
 would the magistrate punish them severely for asking charity when 
 they were not in positive want, but, worse than all, the little fortune 
 tied up in a rag and stowed away in pockets and corners of linings was 
 forfeited and taken from them for that most terrible of all fates — to 
 be spent by somebody else. 
 
 Whilst Phil was, one day, having this terrible point of the law 
 explained to him by Captain Duck, he could not refrain from asking, 
 " And who gets the money they collars from the chaps ?" 
 
 The gallant Mr. Drake, whose opinion of the uprightness of a 
 police magistrate was but a poor one, replied with a wink, " Ah ! 
 that's the game ! He makes out the Crown have it ; but if the Crown 
 don't get more than he lets slip through his fingers, why the Crown 
 must be wery hard up, I should say." 
 
 Young Phil held a share, as joint proprietor, in three crossings ; 
 for although the ground from the Lowther Arcade down to the 
 Haymarket belonged nominally to the entire gang, yet, to avoid dis- 
 putes and ruinous opposition during business hours, they had divided 
 the different roads among them. Of a morning before starting for 
 the day's labours, they would talk of their crossings as noblemen do 
 of their estates. 
 
 " I think I shall take a run down to Charing- cross," Jem would 
 say, " I ain't been there ever such a time ; it's one of the best stands 
 I has." 
 
 " What'll you sell us your crossing for ?" would ask the speculative 
 Duck, who was fond of " dabbling" in muddy ventures. " Owe you 
 a bob and a broom for it." 
 
 " I likes opposite to the Arcade best," Phil would observe, "it's as 
 good a bit o' ground as any in London for bringing in money." 
 
 There was a crossing near Spring Gardens, in which Phil also had 
 an interest, though he used to underlet it to a little girl, who at 
 night would give him part of her earnings. This property was 
 known among the gang as Grub-street, it being chiefly valuable for 
 the " broken victuals" it brought in ; for the servants in the neighbour- 
 hood would employ the young scavengers to run errands for them, 
 and in return give them " the bits" that came from the table of 
 Dives, their master. Teddy Plight used often to moan over the slight 
 revenue that this property returned him. " It ain't sixpence a week 
 to a chap," he would lament, " for all the gentlemens as lives there 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 105 
 
 has such a lot of carriages — that catch 'em a walking that's all." 
 Sometimes the food — or scran as they called it — given to the urchins 
 consisted of the plate- scrapings, collected from yesterday's dinner- 
 party, and included many scraps of the " greatest delicacies of the 
 season." On such occasions the feast was usually held on the stone 
 steps leading to St. James's Park. As soon as the cap which did 
 duty as dish, was emptied of its contents and the banquet exposed 
 to view, an equal partition of the dainty viands took place, though 
 not without a good deal of quarrelling among the alfresco party. 
 
 The "Duck" seeing a morsel of "mayonnaise de volaille," would 
 instantly implore that the "chicken with the shaving soap" might 
 fall to his lot. On such occasions, bits of jelly were termed " size," 
 and " fricandeau de veau" was familiarly spoken of as " hedgehog." 
 Bargains, too, would be made after the following fashion : " Grive us 
 some of your smashed taters for these here fish 'eads;" or, "I'll 
 give you that there big bit of fat for some of your cold carrots." 
 
 The criticisms on the cooking, too, were peculiar and original ; 
 curry being declared to " beat peppermint at warming a chap," and 
 pieces of almond-flavoured custard considered to be a kind of per- 
 fumery manufactured on the same principle as scented hair-oil. 
 
 "When evening came on the boys left their crossings and made for 
 the Haymarket, which they looked upon as the great hunting-ground 
 for "coppers," and so much more profitable did they find their 
 nocturnal exploits, that, even when they had taken nothing during 
 the day, they seldom felb depressed if the night turned out to be fine, 
 for then they were certain that there would be plenty of people " out 
 on the loose," and pennies as plentiful as buttons. 
 
 Neither were the boys so much afraid of the constables when they 
 could carry on their tricks by gas-light. The dark shades of night, 
 assisted by the invisible dirt-colour of the lads' garments, protected 
 them so thoroughly, that no member of the police force troubled 
 himself to pursue them, for he knew how hopeless the chase would 
 be. The nimble young rogues could fly away from the stout-limbed 
 guardian of peace as easily as sparrows from a lap-dog. Besides, if 
 ever a hunt icere attempted, the bare-footed urchins had their " har- 
 bours of refuge" and " strong places." They would dart across the 
 road, dodging safely among the cabs which were hurrying to and fro — 
 driven so recklessly that, had the officer attempted to follow, he would 
 assuredly have been minced among the wheels — and when once the 
 band had reached the stone balustrade round Trafalgar- square, they 
 soon dropped the deep w r all and were safe below, where they usually re- 
 mained for a time talking pleasantly to the constable, who, not daring 
 to follow them, rested his elbows on the parapet, and looked down upon 
 the grinning culprits, and harangued them threateningly on their bad 
 conduct. The boys firmly believed that the policeman was not yet born 
 who would have courage to jump that high wall. They referred with 
 delight to the great victory they had once gained over a " red lioner" 
 — as the officers of the Mendicity Society were termed. The rash but 
 intrepid constable, in endeavouring to jump that very balustrade, had 
 so seriously injured his trousers that they were " split to ribbins," 
 and from that day, warned by his example, none who had any regard 
 for appearances had ever repeated the expensive experiment. 
 
106 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NIGHT ON TO.WN. 
 
 When all London is at rest — when bedroom blinds are drawn 
 down and street doors locked and chained — when lights are rarely 
 seen but in the windows of the sick wards of hospitals, which seem 
 the only places where any are awake — then the Haymarket is in its 
 glory, gay and lively as a ball-room, with the gaudily-dressed multi- 
 tude sauntering along its broad pavements, crowding them as on an 
 illumination night. The gas is flaring from the shop windows, and 
 throwing out its brilliant rays until the entire street is lit up as a 
 
 The dissolute and the idle are pouring down to this great play- 
 ground of folly, like moths attracted by the glare that must sooner or 
 later destroy them. On they come, some in silks and satins, dressed 
 out for the fete, and others with the money in their pockets that is to 
 pay for the banqueting and revelry. The cabs that rattle down 
 Regent-street have all been told to stop at the corner of the Hay- 
 market. Men that have taken their fill of wine at the dinner-table 
 have come thither to finish up the night, and drink on, without thirst, 
 liquor that but a few hours since they w r ould have sickened at; 
 youths, yet surfeited with their last meal, enter as a matter of course 
 into supper-rooms, and without feeling the least hunger, still eat, for 
 the viands they would have refused at home are here flavoured and 
 rendered palatable by debauchery, and the next day they can boast 
 about their doings. Officers with heavy moustaches have come up 
 from the garrison towns, travelling many a mile on purpose to enjoy 
 this one night on town. Bearded foreigners, who have heard of these 
 midnight revels, are strolling about, smoking their white cigarettes 
 and gesticulating violently as they criticise the vice of England and 
 denounce the scene they have nevertheless determined on visiting 
 every night during their stay in the metropolis. Husbands are there 
 too, who when they reach home will pass off their insobriety as exhaus- 
 tion, as they tell their wives how business detained them at chambers ; 
 and brothers loiter about, caring little for the hour, though sisters are 
 waiting up for them to open the street door silently, so that the strict 
 father, sleeping above, may know nothing of their son's excesses. 
 
 Groups of men and women block up the pavement, laughing and 
 joking roughly together ; every corner has its little assembly of 
 gossips, who presently go off in couples to the nearest oyster-shop or 
 public-house. 
 
 This same Haymarket is the great republic of vice, where all who 
 enter are hail fellow well met, for every one knows why the other has 
 come there, and virtue being cast off for the time, all rank and station 
 cease. Outside the tavern doors are gathered clusters of " gentlemen 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 107 
 
 of the laud" talking to the poor souls who, disguised by some " magasin 
 de modes," have hidden the servant-maid under the toilette of the 
 lady. The " heir to a title" stands bowing to some pretty-faced girl, 
 who mixes up her bad grammar with oaths. The public-house door 
 swings back to let pass the " hope of a family," who is about to sip 
 gin at the counter with the chip bonnet at his side. Seated at a 
 supper-table is a pink-faced boy, fresh from his country home, helping 
 with delicate attention the rouged-up form beside him. She laughs 
 noisily as a man, flinging her arms about, and as the champagne foams 
 in her glass she tosses her head like a Bacchanal. But what by day- 
 light would disgust, seems charming in the blaze of the Haymarket 
 gas, and the lad looks with admiration upon the companion whom on 
 the morrow he would pass without even a nod of recognition. 
 
 Every street in the vicinity of this Haymarket partakes more 
 or less of its debauched character. In some there are mysterious, 
 closed-up houses, into the back parlours of which none may enter 
 but the initiated, there to empty tumblers of such drink that in a 
 wiser hour they would push from them as unfit even to allay the 
 pain of thirst. Seated on soft-cushioned sofas that are as yielding 
 as they — poor simpletons — have been, are women decked out like 
 shop-windows, clothed in the rich gloom of velvet or the brilliance 
 of satin, with costly laces — richly worked as a Gothic tracery, such as 
 few virtuous women could afford — filagreeing about their arms and 
 necks. But how little of the woman do these foolish maidens retain 
 beyond the clothes they wear ! They are bolder and wilder than the 
 men who have come there to court them ; they answer gentle speeches 
 with the slang of a cab-driver, and even in their merriment they jerk 
 out oaths with their laughter. And this is called seeing life ! — yes, 
 it may be so, but it is such life as that which exists in the drop of 
 putrid water — the life of the ditch and sewer. 
 
 They say there is no rest for the wicked, and certainly there is 
 none for the Haymarket ; it is the owl of Loudon, that wakes up at 
 dusk lively and fresh for the night, and hoots and screeches till 
 morning comes again. 
 
 Those who dwell and trade in this thoroughfare have pale faces, 
 countenances blanched from the lack of sunlight, that iu the day look 
 used and " seedy" as a 'masquerade dress, but at night are fevered 
 up into seeming health when the warmth of the gas strikes upon the 
 cheek. They sleep away the morn with closed shutters and drawn 
 curtains, and the healthful breezes of the sun- warmed day never blow 
 against their sickly skin. They seek for health from the doctor and 
 for cheerfulness from the wine-bottle ; and when, after a few years, 
 they have heaped together the round sums they so longed for, the 
 body that was to have enjoyed them is withered and rotten, and they 
 envy the hunger of the beggar and the strength of the ploughman. 
 
 Each member of the associated beggar-boys was" as well versed in 
 the Haymarket as the district postman himself, and knew the different 
 shops and the names of the proprietors as thoroughly as if he bad 
 learnt them off from the " London Directory." The lads had also 
 studied with much attention "Waterloo-place, and had even managed 
 
108 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 to pick up an acquaintance with some of the gentlemen who lounged 
 about there smoking their cigars. The magnificent pavement of this 
 latter thoroughfare, and its half desertion, afforded the " school" many 
 excellent opportunities for tumbling, an exercise which was utterly 
 impossible in the crowded Haymarket, from the fact of most persons 
 objecting to have either their face slapped by the cold muddy foot of 
 the young eaten- wheeler, or to be tripped up by the rolling human 
 bundle coming head over heels against their unsuspecting legs. 
 
 " It's not a bit o' good a-getting to the Haymarket afore nine," 
 the Duck would say. " There's only the swells a-going to the Opera, 
 and they're too clean to laugh. Just wait till they've crumpled their 
 waistkits a bit, and then they unbends theirselves more to a chap." 
 
 The Haymarket, considered as a street, may be said to have two 
 natures : one moral, and the other immoral ; for on one side of the 
 roadway the shops give every indication of being virtuous and well- 
 behaved dwellings, for they work at their trades during the day, and 
 put up their shutters at dusk, as if they had closed their eyelids to 
 prepare for sleep. Of these two sides our young band invariably 
 chose the immoral one as the scene of their night exploits. They 
 cared little about promenading before the closed windows of upright 
 trunkmakers, chemists, and print publishers. They liked the glare 
 of the gas as much as a cat likes the warmth of the fire, and it was 
 before the full blaze of oyster-shops, supper-rooms, and taverns, 
 that these lads carried on their professional labours. 
 
 Until the busy time of the evening arrived, the boys would loiter 
 about Windmill-street, watching the crowd flock to the Casino, 
 hoping that good luck might throw them a penny for opening some 
 cab- door, and putting their ragged coat-tails against the muddy 
 wheels to protect the dresses of those alighting. They stood looking 
 down the narrow street, gazing listlessly at the red and blue lamps 
 placed like illuminated posters over the supper-room doors, until any 
 vehicle drove up, when all of them would dart forward in a body, 
 more as- if they were going to attack and rifle the cab than act as 
 ragged lacqueys. 
 
 To vary the monotony of door-openiug, the young gentlemen would 
 sometimes amuse themselves by peeping over the red silk curtains of 
 the " Cafe de la Regence" at the corner, either making faces at the 
 coffee- drinkers within, or flattening their noses against the plate-glass 
 until they were as white as button-mushrooms, much to the horror of 
 the lady with the accroclie-coeurs flourished upon her cheeks, who 
 was seated in state behind the comptoir. Determined not to lose 
 a chance for legitimate begging, the boys carried paper with them to 
 accommodate gentlemen whose cigars had gone out ; and if any such 
 luckless person chanced to approach, instantly the "spills" were 
 lighted at the convenient jets at the cafe door, and thrust up to the 
 smoker's countenance, more as though they were about to singe him 
 like a chicken than tender a civility. 
 
 So as not to interfere with each other in their begging expeditions, 
 the gang would separate, and whilst some crossed the road to that 
 side of Piccadilly which is a medley of hotels, betting-rooms, and 
 restaurants, to act as self-appointed door-openers to the crowds en- 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 109 
 
 tering the tavern known as " the noted house for Brighton Tipper," 
 others would make for the Opera Colonnade to fascinate the French 
 gentlemen with their bounding exercises, whilst the remainder of the 
 gang prowled about generally, either energetically sweeping the flag- 
 stones before some well-dressed idler, or officiously dusting the boots 
 or scraping off the splashes from the trousers of the first person who 
 happened to be standing still. In fact, they elected themselves to 
 numerous offices, all of a more or less useless character, and in the 
 greater number of instances it would have been more agreeable to 
 the favoured individual if they had not shown him such delicate atten- 
 tions. 
 
 The boys had very knowingly arranged a number of plaintive re- 
 quests that were peculiarly suitable to the occasion. It was the in- 
 variable custom of the Duck, when he chanced to be outside a tavern 
 door, to ask, gigglingly, for " half a pint o' beer to drink his honour's 
 health." If, whilst Mike was gazing in at a baker's window, admiring 
 the pale red tarts, or longing for the hard-crusted Scotch buns, so 
 temptingly slashed with the snuff-coloured preserve — if, we say, he 
 caught the eye of any passer-by, he would instantly hint that he was 
 on the point of starvation, and beg a penny " to buy a poor orphan 
 boy a mossel of bread." 
 
 With that genius which usually characterised all his actions, King 
 Teddy Flight had framed a petition intended to move the hearts of 
 those frequenting tobacconists' shops, for he would ask them, in his 
 most winning tones, " to stand a far den's worth of snuff to a poor 
 boy out of work." But perhaps the most impudent of all these re- 
 quests was the one that Phil had adopted ; for whatever the time of 
 year might be — whether Christmas or Midsummer — he always 
 tendered an oyster-shell to any one he met, begging with an innocent 
 face that they would " please to remember the grotto," adding — 
 although it was a nightly request — "that it only came once a year." 
 
 A favourite rendezvous for the tattered rips was in Coventry- 
 street, in front of the fish-shop where the barrel-shaped lamps hang 
 from the first-floor balcony. They delighted to watch the row of 
 aproned men who passed the evening of their lives opening oysters. 
 To attract attention, King Flight was in the habit of requesting any 
 customer who might be sipping his bivalves to " chuck him one," 
 — a demand which was seldom responded to. These impertinent 
 urchins were also fond of criticising the feasters and their mode 
 of eating, making rude observations which caused many of the cus- 
 tomers to feel very uncomfortable and nervous. 
 
 "He don't take no winegar with his'n," Mike would remark. Or 
 Phil would cry out, " Look at that chap, he swallows 'em like 
 soup ;" or if anybody happened to drop one of the slippery luxuries, 
 the whole " school" would roar out, as the glossy dainty slid along 
 the sawdust until it was covered as with bread crumbs, " You've 
 dropped one, master, give it us." 
 
 Phil used to like gazing at these fish-shops, with the window 
 dressed out with fresh green salads and crimson lobsters, until it was 
 as gay as a bed of geraniums. He delighted in touching the quires of 
 dried haddock that looked stiff as untanned leather, and he wondered 
 
110 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 why the lobsters should always have the end of their cactus-looking 
 claws bound round with string, as if they had been clumsily repaired 
 like the leg of a table. The big crabs, buff as hard-baked pies, and 
 some of them lyiug on their backs and showing their hairy legs 
 parted down the middle, were especial favourites of his. And so 
 were the brick-red crayfish, with their nutmeg-grater backs, and 
 their feelers sticking out like riding-whips ; and so strong was the 
 boy's curiosity concerning this " lobster's big brother," that nothing 
 but the presence of the men in the shop prevented him from taking 
 one out of the window for the mere pleasure of opening its springy 
 tail, that was always tucked under like that of a frightened dog. 
 
 By eleven o'clock every shop in the Haymarket is in full swing 
 of custom, and as you look down the street towards Charing- 
 cross, every house seems to have been decorated with lanterns like 
 booths at a fair. Even the long line of cabs that stretches the 
 entire length of the place is dotted with lamps, for they are most of 
 them "Hansoms," and have a bright speck of light fixed in front 
 of the hood. A noise fills the air sufficient, you would think, to 
 rouse all London, for besides the shouting, organs are playing by the 
 kerb-stone, and bands are serenading outside public-house doors — 
 the artiste on the cornet exerting himself till his face looks all cheeks, 
 like a prize pig's. Boys dressed up as Highlanders strut along, making 
 their bagpipes scream out, like railway whistles, the favourite jerky 
 airs of Scotland, drowning for a time the voices of the children bawling 
 out " My Mary Ann" and " Bobbing Around" in the gutter. 
 
 At the French restaurants, suppers are being dressed with great 
 vigour, as may be seen by. a peep down the area railings, where men in 
 white jackets, with caps flat as plates on their head, are discovered 
 handing about little copper saucepans, or stirring steaming mixtures, 
 which at the first glance look like linseed poultices. Public-houses 
 are so full, that many who would enter come back again after peeping 
 in at the swing-doors, for they find the " bars" four deep with drinkers, 
 who are shouting out their orders to the girl behind the bar, and making 
 her work at the groaning beer-engines with the energy of a sailor 
 pumping at a sinking vessel. 
 
 The cabmen have all left their vehicles to add to the mob on the 
 pavement, and they form groups about the horse-pails belonging to the 
 stand, either joking with the passers-by, many of whom they are 
 acquainted with, or sparring innocently in the road, giving each other 
 playful blows and cuffs, that would be sufficient to destroy the equi- 
 librium of an ox. Everybody, from the man carrying as many bouquets 
 in each hand as a Bucklesbury waiter does plates, to the little girl 
 who begs for her mother who is waiting round the corner, seems to 
 look upon the proceedings of the evening as a kind of scramble, in 
 which so much money is to be recklessly thrown away, and those that 
 fight and push the hardest will get the larger share. 
 
 After all, the oyster and supper-rooms are the striking features of 
 this peculiar place. Shop fronts are taken out that the stock of chops 
 and steaks, and plates of puce coloured kidneys, may tempt the hungry 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. Ill 
 
 to spend their half-crowns in the establishment. Every device has 
 been thought of for displaying with advantage the fish within ; semi- 
 circles of crabs lie on their backs with lemons between their black- 
 tipped claws, as if they were going to toss them in the air a la 
 Risley. At one house mounds of hook-backed prawns are piled up 
 in pyramids like pink basket-work ; at another wells have been sunk in 
 the marble slab to receive the oysters that are placed one over the 
 other like scale armour, or some of the opened bivalves are spread out 
 on a big dish, where they glitter under the gas jets like part of a 
 washed-out peacock's tail. Lower down, nearer the Opera, the 
 supper-room proprietors have endeavoured to add the sale of Opera 
 tickets to that of fish, and admissions to the pit at 8s. 6d, stand side 
 by side with pickled salmon at Is. per pound, and cases of opera-glasses 
 are fancifully surrounded by borders of lobsters. 
 
 There are mysterious supper-rooms, too, such as at the " Blue 
 Posts" and the " Cafe de Paris," where no display at all has been at- 
 tempted to entice custom. Broughams with lighted lamps drive up, 
 and rustling forms dart across the pavement and into the doorways. 
 Divans, too, are plentiful enough, and the " Ottoman," the " Turkish," 
 and the "Algerine," vie with one another for the superiority of trade; 
 but the " Turkish" seems to have won the day. It basin the window a 
 chalky picture of a plain-looking lady of the harem reclining at full 
 length on a divan ; it has lithographs of the Trench troops winning the 
 battles of the Alma and Inkerman, and arranged all about are spangle- 
 ornamented pouches and amber mouthpieces, and pipes as long as 
 fishing-rods. Sometimes the Parisian Turk who is making his fortune 
 at this house exhibits himself for a time in his rich Oriental costume 
 at the swing-doors of his divan, and having played with his long 
 moustache, to allow his jewelled fingers to sparkle by the lamps a bit, 
 goes back again to collect the sixpences owing for his Mocha. 
 
 When the London season is on and the Opera open, then, as the 
 night advances, the Haymarket becomes choked up with carriages 
 ordered to "fetch" at eleven the red, white, and blue cashmere cloaks 
 that have been flirting, and chatting out the evening, thoroughly in- 
 different as to whether Amina should fall off that terrible nine-inch 
 plank or not, or the roguish Bosina ultimately marry her tenor lover. 
 Now the street gains additional importance and profit. The night 
 broughams, the lofty chariots, the genteel fly, all crowd together, 
 hiding from view the centre line of vulgar cabs as completely as a 
 spaniel in the tall grass. The footmen take their ease at their public- 
 house until the howl of the link boy shall summon them to duty. The 
 powdered retainer from Belgrave-'square graciously drinks from the 
 full pot that the greasy-hatted attendant from Barnsbury-park, 
 Islington, has admiringly offered him, for the humanizing effects of 
 porter soften his proud aristocratic soul. The silk-stockinged coach- 
 man lolls on his hammer-cloth as on a couch, chatting condescendingly 
 with the check-trousered fly-driver who has paid for the hot gin-and- 
 water. By-and-by the mob of drab-coated 'servitors advance to the 
 colonnade, some to stand inside the grand entrance which commands 
 a view of stairs covered with crimson drugget, while others, to kill 
 the time and get rid of the smell of tobacco, air themselves by hanging 
 
112 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 about the stage door in the hope of catching a glance at some Madlle. 
 Pettito, or captivating with a love at first sight those delights of the 
 ballet, Mesdames Tootsi and Pootsi. 
 
 Presently, gentlemen looking unnaturally fashionable, emerge from 
 the eight-and-sixpenny entrance, all humming the grand finale as 
 they pack up their binocular glasses. Then the footmen knowing 
 that the opera is over, become agitated. In a few moments mighty 
 names are shouted out by husky-voiced men, and my lord's carriage 
 comes swinging to the kerb-stone, and my lady's brougham darts up 
 as if it were trying to smash itself against the columns. Now, the 
 Street-loungers form a double row like a human palisade, to see the 
 " company" come out. Ladies with carefully dressed hair skip 
 across the pavement, holding up their dresses as on a rainy day, and 
 jump into little bandbox vehicles which they fill like a chair. Steps 
 are clattered down, and old gentlemen with pink heads are hoisted 
 up by straining lacqueys. Now slowly advances the big clarence 
 from the livery stable, the gaunt horse shrinking from the pressure 
 of the collar, despite the whip that whistles like a breeze about his 
 big hips. Those who have hired the vehicle plunge head first into 
 its drab interior, and the crowd, startled at the number, count them 
 with increasing amazement as yet another dress bounds past. 
 
 Nobody could have enjoyed the Opera nights with a greater gusto 
 than did Phil and his companions. Had they been consulted on the 
 subject of the Lyric Drama, they would have expressed themselves in 
 terms of unqualified approbation upon the great good it effected, for 
 they not unfrequently picked up more money in the half-hour after 
 the performance was over than they had made by the entire day's 
 hard begging and tumbling. Their peculiar business was either to 
 run for cabs, or else to open the doors of such as had been fetched. 
 The boys, politely to avoid disputes with the police, always tendered 
 their services to those ladies and gentlemen, who, in their hurry to 
 get home, had wandered a short distance from the theatre, and were 
 Helplessly staring about them in the hope of hailing a stray vehicle. 
 
 On these occasions all the boys separated, that none might inter- 
 fere with another's scramble. 
 
 One very wet night, when the rain had been falling all day long, 
 and had converted the streets to level plains of liquid slush, into 
 which the lamps were reflected as into a canal, Phil, who had only 
 made twopence — and that was for turning a mad cat out of a single 
 lady's coal-cellar — trotted down to the Opera House, offering up 
 supplications to " luck" that he might earn the threepence necessary 
 for a night's lodging at Mrs. O'Donovan's. 
 
 Just as the music-loving public were rising from their intellectual 
 feast, the rain came down in streams of water as if the clouds above 
 were being wrung like wet blankets. " Here's a soaker !" thought 
 the young Bohemian, looking about him with delight, as he paddled 
 ankle-deep in the mud ; " they'll be drowned as safe as caught fleas 
 if they tries to swim home in their Opera kicksies." 
 
 Presently a gentleman, "carrying milk-pails," as the boys called 
 it — that is, with a lady on each arm — advanced up the colonnade, 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 113 
 
 gazing mournfully at the rain that came down straight as iron wires. 
 Three or four times did the attentive beau shout out " Hi !" to the 
 passing cabs. Phil had seen this group in the distance, and was gal- 
 loping towards them, his naked feet slapping the pavement like fish 
 on a marble slab. 
 
 " If we have to stay here all night, "William, I'm not going 
 through that," said one of the ladies, pointing to the shower-bath 
 without. 
 
 " I should spoil everything I've got on !" added the other damsel, 
 who wore a light-blue tissue dress, that in two seconds would have 
 pulped like silver paper. The gentleman, who was strong and manly, 
 muttered something about " coming out with women who were afraid 
 of a drop of water," when Phil, bounding up to them, exclaimed, as 
 he pulled at his hair like a check-string, " Shall I fetch a cab, yer 
 honour?" He only heard one of the ladies direct him to "go 
 directly, like a good boy," and off he flew among the vehicles, shouting 
 out, as he passed, " Who wants an out-and-out job ?" 
 
 He ducked under horses' necks, he sidled between wheels that 
 went within an inch of his naked feet, but every conveyance he ran up 
 to seemed engaged. He saw Mike go by, seated like a nobleman on 
 a box, and in vain he offered him. a penny for bis " find." Some of 
 the cabmen, although taken, asked him "where to ?" and seemed in- 
 clined to play their retaining fares false, but Phil's answer of " ever 
 such a way" was evidently not distinct inducement enough to 
 warrant their being dishonourable. At length, as the rain fell 
 heavier and heavier, the boy thought the best method was to mount 
 beside the first driver he passed ; so up he clambered, saying, 
 
 " Why, where've you been to ? I was a-lookin' for you ever such 
 a whiles, all over." 
 
 " Oh, were it you as was the boy wot engaged me ?" asked the man. 
 
 " Why, in course it was," answered Phil, with assumed indigna- 
 tion, " and a fust-rate fare it is too, with a glass of spirits at the end 
 of it." 
 
 He had been absent some twenty minutes, hunting for the vehicle, 
 but " his people" had not moved from where he left them, which 
 proved to Phil that cabs were very scarce indeed that night, and 
 made him think a shilling would not be too much for his trouble. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the gallantry displayed by "the young 
 sweeper, as he offered his hand, dirty as a cheese-rind, to assist the 
 ladies into the vehicle, or twisted his body round so that his tattered 
 skirt might cover the dirty wheel ; and when at last the door was 
 closed, and the time had come to receive his payment — if any — he 
 stood, wet through as a dog at the Serpentine, grinning like a hurdy- 
 gurdy boy, and saying, in supplicating accents, 
 
 " Kemember a poor boy, miss ! Very wet, sir ! It's the last cab 
 left on the rank, mum ! Took me half an hour, sir !" 
 
 "Mind you pay the poor boy well, William," said one of the 
 ladies, whilst the other added, " He must have caught his death, 
 poor child." 
 
 " Here's more than you ever had in your life before," cried the 
 
 i 
 
114 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 gentleman, slipping, as the vehicle drove off, what Phil thought was 
 sixpence into his hand. 
 
 . Master Merton had got into the hahit of mistrusting his fellow 
 man ; so, disregarding the elegant appearance of the gentleman, he 
 bit at the coin to see if it were a good one. He had his doubts 
 about its genuineness, for it felt very heavy, and nervously he ad- 
 vanced to a lamp to examine it. 
 
 It was half a sovereign ! Directly he beheld it he clenched it up 
 in his hand as suddenly as if he had been catching a fly, for fear 
 anybody stronger than himself had been watching him. Then he 
 sneaked off, still looking around him in mistrust, until he came to a 
 deserted court, and there, raining as it was, he sat down on a step to 
 feast his eyes on his treasure. He turned it over and over as a 
 monkey does a bit of biscuit ; he read by the gas-lamp the inscription 
 on both sides of the coin, and he weighed it on the tips of his fingers, 
 and made it ring upon the muddy stones, wiping it carefully on his 
 coat when he was tired of the music. 
 
 How often he had seen these golden coins behind the bars of 
 public-houses, and wondered if he should ever have one of his own. 
 He had seen little wooden bowls full of them ab the money-changers', 
 and he had stood there by the half-hour thinking over the number of 
 things he could buy with only one of the little bright discs. 
 
 Then he grew grateful to the donors, and suddenly remembered 
 how beautiful the two ladies were " with nothing on their heads but 
 flowers, and only pink capes on their bare shoulders ;" and his heai't 
 also inclined very much towards the gentleman, and he regretted that 
 he had not heard where the cabman had been told to drive to, that he 
 might have done his benefactor some service in return for his gene- 
 rosity, if it were only to sweep a crossing before his door or caten- 
 wheel in front of the parlour window for the ladies to see him. 
 
 As it was, Phil thrust the half-sovereign into hi§ cheek, that being 
 the safest purse he knew of, and, determining to say nothing about 
 his wealth to his brothers in mud, he scampered off to find them. 
 
 On a fine night, what is called "the fun" of the Haymarket 
 seldom begins before one o'clock, for by that time gentlemen of 
 lively dispositions have imbibed enough strong drink to render them 
 reckless of consequences. Most of the visitors, too, have just finished 
 supper at that hour, and feel good-humoured under the effects of the 
 meal. 
 
 The men and women who have come there to sell fruit and flowers 
 have doubled their prices, and are plying their trade with the greatest 
 industry, displaying their bouquets whenever they see a gentleman 
 talking to any one, in the hope that he may be made to buy the 
 extravagant nosegay, or thrusting baskets of expensive but tempt- 
 ing plums into the centre of conversing groups, and placing the 
 male portion of them in the uncomfortable position of having to 
 appear mean if they refuse to purchase, however earnestly they may 
 wish to escape the outlay. 
 
 It is about this time, too, that " rows" begin to take place. Should 
 the police attempt the capture of any illegal practical joker, rescues 
 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 115 
 
 are attempted by his friends, and a crowd soon collected, which 
 sways about the roadway, the shiny top of the officer's hat always 
 forming the centre of the riot. Under the influence of drink, 
 gentlemen "who do not take their liquor kindly," as the Duck 
 expresses it, grow pugnacious, and like the retainers of the Mon- 
 tagues and Capulets, will fall to and fight on the slightest pretext, 
 whether it be the " bite of a thumb at them," or the using of dis- 
 respectful expressions, or a too vigorous push with the shoulder. 
 
 The young crossing-sweepers enjoy this time immensely, for 
 though, to quote the words of his Majesty King Teddy Flight, 
 "drunken gentlemens is always either jolly or spiteful," yet they do 
 not mind running the risk of kicks when the chances are equally 
 balanced by halfpence. 
 
 Should any gentleman who has been too thirsty at his supper, 
 evince any inclination to joke with our muddy community, the. boys, 
 far from checking these attempts at familiarity, rather use their 
 utmost endeavours to encourage the acquaintance. Ou one occasion, 
 the " school" having discovered a couple of gentlemen limp with 
 liquor, and bending backwards and forwards with the elasticity of foils 
 made from the best steel, instantly surrounded them and commenced 
 tumbling. As these unsteady revellers were in that condition when 
 lamp-posts and houses revolve and spin around, their giddiness found 
 no relief from having half a dozen pairs of legs twisting like wheel- 
 spokes before their eyes. 
 
 " Go along, will you," hiccupped one of the inebriated couple, 
 dealing out a slash with his cane, which fell upon the thigh of Mr. 
 Mike, and drew forth a long howl like tuning an organ-pipe. The 
 sufferer retired to the nearest lamp-post, there to rub his wound and 
 make a variety of faces expressive of nipping agony ; but the other 
 lads still continued their exercise, though they cautiously increased 
 the distance between their legs and the stinging cane. 
 
 " Give us a shillin' and we'll go," was the offer made by the Buck, 
 as he saw the couple blink their heavy eyelids and flinch under 
 the torture of the " caten-wheel." 
 
 " Go and be hung !" was the gruff answer ; but the gentleman had 
 scarcely finished speaking before he burst out laughing violently, as 
 if some comic idea had suddenly tickled his fancy, and when his 
 merriment had subsided sufficiently to allow him to talk, he, for some 
 drunken freak, offered to purchase the brooms of all the boys at the 
 rate of one shilling each, a bargain which the urchins concluded as 
 quickly as possible lest the bidder might change his silly mind. 
 
 Then with the muddy stumps under their arms these two big men 
 staggered up and down the Haymarket, laughing immoderately at the 
 immense fun they imagined themselves to be enjoying. Speaking as 
 clearly as their thick speech would let them, they began by imitating, 
 as closely as their drunkenness would permit, the manners and cus- 
 toms of Dutch girls, asking everybody that passed to " buy a broom, 
 my dear," and occasionally thrusting the dirty article they jocosely 
 offered for sale into the face of those that refused to purchase. 
 
 All these proceedings were highly amusing to the gang of young 
 sweepers who followed the two gentlemen, cheering vociferously 
 
 i 2 
 
116 paved wrra gold. 
 
 everything they did, and dancing closely round and about them, in 
 the hopes that they might, in time, be sufficiently enraged to restore 
 the brooms to their former owners, by throwing them at their 
 heads. 
 
 When the two tipsy gentlemen were tired of imitating the Dutch 
 girls, they thought it would be amusing if they pretended to be cross- 
 ing-sweepers ; and to work they went, brushing away at the pavement 
 before the couples who were walking about, and taking off their hats 
 to beg quite in a professional style. Meeting with but little success 
 or applause at this pleasant pastime, they changed it to that of 
 flourishing the broom in the air and dancing about like wild Indians, 
 occasionally playfully varying the entertainment by knocking off the 
 hats of the lookers-on, a feat which ended in getting the unfortu- 
 nate drunkards into trouble, by being, in their turn, knocked about 
 by a broad-shouldered, thick-necked man, who, if he was not a mem- 
 ber of the ring, certainly had the most wonderful-looking nose out of 
 "the fancy," and who toppled over the two idiots in a style worthy 
 of the most accomplished pugilist. 
 
 When the genuine crossing-sweepers saw the amateurs sprawling 
 in the road, they quietly picked up the brooms and walked away, de- 
 claring that " them two was the queerest charackters out," and wish- 
 ing — with little regard for the morality of mankind — that they could 
 only meet with such a couple every night of their lives. 
 
 It was about this time that the Duck, finding that some novelty 
 was sadly wanted to give a spirt to street-begging, introduced into 
 the Haymarket his celebrated feat of " standing on his nose." It has 
 been much doubted whether Captain Drake was really the first to 
 think of this eccentric gymnastic exercise. One Judy Jack, who 
 was intimate with the Duck — being in the same profession, though 
 he carried on business in Camden Town — has since brought forward 
 evidence of a rather strong nature to prove that it was he who had 
 taught the Duck the knack of performing the trick, and had even 
 showed him how he must " bear on his hands to take the weight off 
 the nfcse, or he'd dent it in as easy as a trod thimble." 
 
 The Captain's method of proceeding was to accost wild-looking 
 young men, and after asking for a copper for poor little Jack, to add, 
 " I'll stand on my nose for a penny, your honour ;" and if the tempting 
 offer were accepted, up went the Duck's nimble legs, and there he 
 rested with his face flat to the ground, at the same time drawing the 
 attention of his patrons, in a voice resembling that of a person afflicted 
 with a severe head cold, to the fact that his " dose was slap agin the 
 bavebelt." 
 
 After each night's labours, the gang were accustomed to adjourn 
 to the Jury-house, as they termed the steps around the portico of 
 St. Martin's Church, there to reckon up what they had made during 
 the day. It was usually about three o'clock in the morning when 
 this business meeting took place, but the young rogues, far from feel- 
 ing sleepy, were generally as fresh as bees, and in the best of spirits, 
 especially if the "takings" had been equal to their expectations. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 117 
 
 Lolling against the massive iron railings, the counting up of halfpence 
 would proceed in clerk-like silence. 
 
 " Fourteenpence !" Mike would cry out when his reckoning was 
 over. " None so dusty, neither !" 
 
 "Elevenpence harpenny," would call out in his turn the King; 
 " that* 8 better than smashing your leg." 
 
 " One-and-seven," Phil would say ; and, imitating his companions' 
 style of expression, he would add, " and nobody's eye put out." 
 
 On hearing this amount, the Duck, who for some unknown reason 
 always pretended to be the least fortunate of the party, would beseech 
 Phil to give him twopence for luck. If Phil saw no just reason for 
 granting this request, Mr. Drake would decrease the amount asked 
 for to one halfpenny, and if that gift was also refused, he would beg 
 pathetically that his wealthy young friend would, when he took his 
 morning's pen'orth of coffee at the street stall, spare him a little of it 
 in the saucer. There was no pride about the Duck, and he always 
 took things as they came, and, indeed, not unfrequently when they 
 didn't. 
 
 f During the fag end of the season, when the gay idlers of London 
 had gone to the sea-side to pick up the health they had thrown away 
 in the Haymarket, the troop did not make such excellent incomes as 
 they could have wished ; indeed, their expenditure not unfrequently 
 exceeded their gains by exactly the threepence which Mrs. O' Do- 
 novan required for the night's lodging, and much to that lady's dis- 
 gust she would be forced to give her young gentlemen credit. The 
 establishment of Mrs. O'Donovan being avowedly conducted on the 
 ready-money principle, and the wardrobes of the youths, consisting 
 only of the few rags they, by great ingenuity, managed, with the aid 
 of pins and strings, to carry on their backs, the landlady grew nervous 
 when the amount due to her amounted to sixpence a head. 
 
 At such a time, this severely punctual woman, knowing the habits 
 of the boys, would rise from her pillow, and in the blue light of 
 dawn suddenly appear before the assembled younkers as they sat at 
 their accounts on the Jury-house steps. The Duck, who was always 
 the heaviest defaulter, would instantly endeavour to escape from the 
 cold, determined gaze of his creditor's grey eye ; but her voice would 
 pull him back like a hand. 
 
 "Misther Drake !" she would say, shaking her head as if prepared 
 to quarrel — " Misther Drake, oi want mee monee. Oi'm a harrud- 
 worrucking woman, Misther Drake." 
 
 "Why, I never seed you working vet!" would equivocate the 
 Duck. 
 
 " You owe me saxpence, Mr. Drake," she would continue, without 
 heeding the reply, " and oi'll thank you kindly for that same." 
 
 She waited in silence for a few seconds, gazing with dreadful 
 sternness at the other debtors ; but on the Duck beginning to 
 whistle, she lost her temper, and broke out wildly, 
 
 " You idle vaggabone ! and is it for the loikes of such as ye that an 
 honest woman is to be turruned out of house and home, whilst ye're 
 larruking about the strates, living on the best and squandering mee 
 monee. Misther Drake, oi want mee rent." 
 
118 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 "Why don't you distrain ?" asked the Duck. 
 
 "Is it distrain, ye say," roared the lady, "yer bundle o' filth ye! 
 It's at the rag-shop oi must carry yer thin, yer villin, and its onlee 
 brown paper they 'ud make o' yer at the best o' times. Pay mee sax- 
 pence, Misther Drake." 
 
 " Why, it's months since I've seed a sixpence," said the Duck, in 
 persecuted accents. " I wish I had, and I'd have eaten somethin' in- 
 stead of never tasting nothen all the blessed day." 
 
 " That's a loie, Misther Drake," screamed the landlady ; " you've 
 had onneyons, for oi can smell them heare, and enough to knock me 
 down. I want mee saxpence oi've wurruked harrud for, Mr. Drake." 
 
 " Why don't you ask the other chaps, 'stead of only bullying me ?" 
 complained the debtor. 
 
 The fiery Mrs. O'Donovan was trembling with rage, shaking like 
 the hand of a drinker. She was about to follow the Duck's advice, 
 and had commenced her attack upon the gang by howling out, " Ye 
 herd o' plundering locusts" . . . when the whole of the troop took to 
 their legs and darted away from her, leaving her to shake her fists 
 and scream after their retreating forms. 
 
 As they knew it would be useless to return home in the absurd 
 hopes of being allowed to sleep there, the entire party made the best 
 of their way to St. James's Park, and, having climbed the railings, 
 they silently sought out some convenient spot that would serve them 
 for a bedstead. 
 
 At length they discovered what Teddy Plight termed a place that 
 had been "made o' purpose, knowing they were coming." The 
 overhanging boughs of some valuable shrubs, the names of which 
 were carefully painted on the labels near their roots, formed a kind 
 of gipsy's tent, and the withered leaves that had fallen covered the 
 ground with a soft, dry mattress, almost equal, they declared, to a 
 truss of straw. 
 
 Into this branch-curtained retreat the lads crept on all fours, one 
 after another, to enjoy their " doss," as, in their slang, they called 
 sleep. 
 
 " Of all beds these here flower-beds is the primest for a doss," 
 said Mike, " it's as soft as feathers !" 
 
 " If we pulls our coats over our ears, and then scrunches together 
 in a lump, we shall do prime," was the advice of the experienced 
 Duck. 
 
 " The last in bed blows out the glim," jocosely remarked Master 
 Jim. 
 
 Then, huddling together like a litter of kittens, the boys fell asleep ; 
 some with their head resting on the stumps of trees as a pillow, 
 others with their legs and arms sprawling about, so that the limbs 
 were crossed together like wicker-work. 
 
 Such was the kind of life these miserable lads were accustomed to 
 lead. An existence that had no pleasure in i't beyond its daring and 
 its lawlessness; where liberty was purchased at the expense of rags and 
 hunger ; and which was gradually training them for the gaol, by teach- 
 ing the boys that the least laborious method of earning their bread was 
 
v< 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 119 
 
 by transgressing the laws of society, instead of conforming to them. 
 Already they were ranked among the outcasts of the world, those 
 for whose safe keeping policemen had been appointed and prisons 
 built. 
 
 Phil, from living among these boys, had picked up their slang, and 
 forgotten the u good words" taught him at his school as completely 
 as a child sent to a foreign land loses its native language. His mind, 
 too, had taken their stamp — the one that often seals a destiny — and 
 his morality had become as muddy as his rags. When well-to-do 
 people passed near him in the streets, they often placed their hands 
 in their pockets, mistaking him for a thief, for there was a cunning 
 side-look in his eyes ; and when he sneaked after them to beg, his 
 step was more like that of one ready to decamp than bent on 
 following. 
 
 He had been one year at this sad work. He had passed through 
 the winter, treading the snow with frostbitten feet, and cuddling 
 together the rags that fluttered about him like a storm-rent sail. 
 The only time he had known warmth was when he was scraping the 
 snow from before the houses, and the only variety to his miserable 
 life was when the boys pelted each other with snow-balls for the half- 
 pence that were thrown to them, or swept open spaces on the ice for 
 skaters at the Serpentine. 
 
 But when the warm spring returned, when the chilblained feet 
 had healed, and the rags, holey as a worm-eaten leaf, once more felt 
 warm enough, then Phil forgot the wise resolutions he had made in 
 his time of suffering, and returned, as a matter of course, to his old 
 habits. 
 
 But for a mere accident he might to his dying day have remained 
 a member of the Associated Crossing Sweepers. 
 
 Late one night, when all the gang were prowling about the Hay- 
 market like cats in a flower-bed, they saw two gentlemen lolling 
 against the post at the corner of Windmill-street, and evidently 
 wishing they could hit upon some amusement to relieve them from 
 the hard work of having nothing to do. By their long moustaches 
 and the hair close cut behind, the quick-eyed and experienced young 
 beggars instantly recognised them as belonging to her Majesty's 
 Service, though whether foot or cavalry they neither knew nor cared. 
 
 As pigeons to peas, the boys flew to the perfumed sons of Mars. 
 
 The Duck instantly volunteered to stand on his nose and beat time 
 with the soles of his" feet to the tune of " Is the Battle over, Mother ?" 
 for the trumpery equivalent of one penny. 
 
 The King, Edward Plight, ever willing to meet the times and dis- 
 tance competitors, offered to turn head over heels as rapidly as a pith 
 ball rotates on a fountain, for the totally insufficient remuneration of 
 one halfpenny. 
 
 Phil, whose business principles were small profits and quick returns, 
 endeavoured to undersell his rivals by proposing to caten-wheel until 
 he was black in the face for the small charge of one farthing. 
 
 " Well, then, the whole lot of you go to work," said one of. the 
 officers; and a second afterwards the solo with the foot accompaniment 
 
120 PAViJD WITH GOLD. 
 
 had commenced, and the other lads were twisting about as rapidly as 
 the paddles of a steamer; but just as the entertainment was half over 
 it was unfortunately interrupted by the approach of a policeman, who, 
 taking off his belt, dealt the performers such lusty blows with the 
 buckle that they were glad to spring to their feet and scamper away. 
 As the dogs driven from a tripe-shop return to gaze again at the 
 wet washleather-looking dainty, so did these beggar boys once more 
 appear before the officers as soon as they had given the policeman 
 what they called the "lucky dodge." 
 
 The officers laughed to see the young scamps, as they came up 
 grinning and whining to ask for "the little bit of silver," and they 
 were kind enough to make several inquiries as to whether the easti- 
 gation they had received had hurt them or not. But as to the pay- 
 ment of the money the boys thought they had earned, the gentlemen 
 complained that the performances they had bartered for had not been 
 given, and vowed they would not " cash up" until they had witnessed 
 something more for their money. 
 
 Then they set the boys a variety of comic tasks. One of the gen- 
 tlemen had a box of dinner pills in his pocket, and four of them were 
 placed in Mike's hand, and he was ordered to swallow them instantly. 
 The boy shuddered with the disgust all lads feel for medicine, and he 
 made a face which drew up all his features into a variety of wrinkles, 
 but as there was scarcely any enormity he would not have committed 
 for one penny, he hastened to the pails by the cab-stand, and ducking 
 his head like a horse, filled his mouth with water, and swallowed the 
 pills as pleasantly as if they had been four black-currants. 
 
 The next boy ordered to stand forth was King Teddy, and he was 
 led, by the eccentric gentlemen on town, into a pastrycook's shop, and 
 there, being mounted on one of the marble-topped tables, he was 
 ordered, like a monkey on a drum-head, to begin his exercises. The 
 young lady in the shop behind the pewter hot-water apparatus where 
 the veal-and-ham pies are kept tepid, screamed out, as the cobwebby 
 Flight entered, " Turn that dirty boy out ! I won't have him here !" 
 But those who promised him sixpence ordered him to advance, and 
 although he plainly heard the fearful words, " Run for the police !" 
 the naughty child commenced his gymnastics. 
 
 "When Master Teddy, growing nervous, asked whether " Please, 
 sir, he might go now," instead of the " Yes" he hoped for, he was 
 commanded to caten-wheel the whole length of the shop, despite the 
 crowd of customers, and in he plunged, as into water, making the 
 tart-eaters fly before him. His legs revolved within an inch of trays 
 of cracknels, and nearly brought down dishes of custards, or sent 
 yellow jellies quivering over the oilcloth, and all the time parasols 
 and canes beat at him as he trundled along. Even now these officers 
 would not give the "little sixpence" that was once more implored 
 for. A task of a decidedly cruel nature was given to the whole 
 band, but nevertheless it was one from which these inhuman raga- 
 muffins did not shrink. 
 
 " Go and pull that tipsy man over," was the order ; and like dogs 
 at a weak cat the pack flew at the staggering drunkard, and upset 
 him as easily as a ninepin. Their work completed, they once more 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 121 
 
 asked for their money ; but no ! the gentlemen were enjoying them- 
 selves too much with the sport to put so speedy an end to the fun. 
 These officers and gentlemen, thinking over what mischief they could 
 next invent, happened to catch sight of a woman going by, and 
 Captain Drake, as the biggest boy of the troop, was directed to " go 
 and sweep mud over her." 
 
 "With a vigorous dig of his broom the Duck sent a broad sheet of 
 liquid dirt against the poor soul's dress, covering it as with a patch 
 of brown paper. She turned round in wonder to see what had 
 struck her, pulling her cotton skirt about her with a look of disgust 
 and astonishment that made the troop and their fashionable abettors 
 shout with laughter. 
 
 Why does not Phil roar and dance with the enjoyment of the mis- 
 chief, like his companions ? His face has turned as white as if a 
 sickness had suddenly smitten him. As he saw the woman's features, 
 his hair was lifted from his head, as when a gust of wind blows against 
 the temples. 
 
 He thanked Heaven that she did not see him among her insulters 
 — that poor nurse that used to call him her " own pretty boy ;" the 
 kind, patient creature that, even when he richly deserved it, would 
 not hurt her Phil, but would rather kiss the pouting lips of the 
 sulking boy, and coax him to laugh away his ill-humours. 
 
 Time was when Phil was innocent, and he had impulses whicli 
 gave him no time for thought, but would have sent him bounding 
 forward at the joy of seeing that face again. But now he is one of 
 the foxes of the street, and as he would not be seen in bad company, 
 he sneaks round the corner, and runs along back courts, to reappear 
 again higher up in the same street ; and there he stops till his Nurse 
 Hazlewood shall advance towards him. Whilst he is impatiently 
 waiting her approach, he runs into the road to watch what she is 
 doing, and when he catches glimpses of her through the openings in 
 the moving crowd, he perceives her pointing to her dress, and ap- 
 pealing indignantly to the lookers-on. The muscles of his face 
 twitch again, and his fingers work like a beetle's claws, as he thinks 
 to himself, " If she only knew I was one of them that did it !" 
 
 Presently she advances, and, panting and trembling with anxiety, 
 he creeps after her. Twice he calls out " Mother !" but in so low a 
 voice that he is not heard ; and. he is glad of it, too, for he dreads the 
 look he knows she must give him when she sees her Phil a ragged 
 street boy. More than once the thought of " runaway" has entered 
 his mind, but the wish to hear of Bertie is stronger than the fear of 
 any scoldings he may receive. At last the nervous boy pulls at her 
 shawl, and, as his nurse looks round, his head falls on his bosom, and 
 he says, " It's me, mother." 
 
 She knows the voice in a moment, and, taking that head with the 
 dust-coloured hair between her hands, she raises it to the full glare 
 of the gas, and mutters, as if to herself, " Good God ! it's Phil." 
 
 The poor soul is silent with grief, but the boy thinks the scolding 
 is coming, and he stammers out, " It's no good a-rowing a chap, it 
 can't be altered now." 
 
 "Are those the only clothes you've got ?" she asked. 
 
122 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 As Phil played with his fingers, he answered, " Yes ; and the best's 
 uncommon bad, ain't it?" And then he peeped up to see if she was 
 laughing. 
 
 But her countenance was full of grief. " And what are you doing 
 to earn a living ?" she inquired. 
 
 " Oh, knocking and rowing about, mother ; doing a job at any- 
 thing" 
 
 "Oh dear! oil dear!" she sighed, "that my own Phil should 
 come to this !" And she took up his hand, but dropped it again when 
 she saw how black and dirty it was. " Oh that I should live to see 
 my boy in this state. Dear ! dear ! I almost wish I hadn't met you, 
 for I used to think of you as you once were, with your pretty pink 
 face and child's talk, and now, when you come into my mind, I must 
 always see you dirty and in tatters, and with the words and ways of 
 bad people in the streets. Oh, I wish I hadn't lived to see you, 
 Phil." 
 
 " "Where's the use of crying, mother ? That won't do no good," 
 the boy stammered out. 
 
 " It is hard, after bringing you up and nursing you as if you were 
 one of my own, to see you turn bad like this, with only rags to your 
 back, and perhaps dying of hunger." 
 
 " "Well, if a chap is, I don't see that telling him on it is much help." 
 
 " God help you !" she faltered, wiping her eyes on her shawl. 
 
 One or two errand boys had stopped to look at Phil and his nurse, 
 and others, as they passed by, turned round to stare at the weeping 
 woman and the abashed boy by her side, who was trying to take the 
 edge off his despondency by picking to pieces the twigs on his broom. 
 
 Observing that they were noticed, the pair strolled towards Leices- 
 ter-square. For some time they walked by the railings around the 
 enclosure, neither of them saying a word, the woman sighing and 
 weeping, poor soul ! and the boy with his heartlike a lump of lead in 
 his bosom, although be tried to look as if he " did not care," and 
 kicked at the stones that were in his way or tossed halfpence with 
 apparently the greatest indifference. 
 
 Sometimes he would look up at her slyly to see if she were still 
 crying, and then finding that her grief was not allayed, he grew im- 
 patient and jerked his head on one side, as much as to say, " I can't 
 stand this much longer." 
 
 At last he summoned courage to speak. "Mother, where's 
 Bertie ?" he asked, but in a meek tone, half-expecting the informa- 
 tion would be refused. 
 
 Turning round suddenly, so that her tearful face was looking full 
 at him, she cried out in fear, " You shan't go there !" 
 
 " Why not ? "What have I done to her, I should like to know ?" 
 he grumbled out. 
 
 "No, Phil," the woman said, excitedly, "you shan't go tempting 
 her into your ways and courses. If you've gone wrong, at least I'll 
 keep her honest and good. You shan't go near her, I tell you." 
 
 " You are a-laying it on," he answered impertinently ; " one would 
 think I was everything bad to hear you talk." 
 
 " God only knows what you are, Phil," the poor thing moaned out ; 
 
PAVED WITU GOLD. 123 
 
 " but I know what Bertie is, and how good and pure is the heart 
 within her. No, you shan't go there from any telling of mine, so 
 don't ask me." 
 
 " Now look here, mother," began the boy, after swallowing two 
 or three times, as if his throat were dry, " you seem to think I ain't 
 all right. But I am all right — none righter. "What have I done, I 
 should like to know ? Of course I begs ; but that ain't stealing. A 
 feller must live." 
 (' " I knew you couldn't steal, Phil," was her mild reply, and it cut 
 him the more because he knew himself better than she did. 
 
 " "Well, then, what do you mean ? Don't you think I love Bertie ? 
 Now, look here, if a chap was to try and do her any harm, I'd go in 
 at him if he was as big as a house. I tell you that you and her is 
 the only two I like in the world — except Jim a little bit. I've been 
 waiting to see you this year gone, for something told me we should 
 meet. Many a time I've run afore people to see if it was you, and 
 this is the way you serves a feller when you do run up agin him." 
 
 He was crying and rubbing the knuckles into his eyes, so that he 
 could not see the kind look with which she turned towards him. He 
 felt her hand rest upon his shoulder, but he shook it off like an angry 
 child. 
 
 " Now I'll just tell you mother, and it's G-ospel truth, too," the 
 boy continued, sobbing, " when I've been on the crossing, or a 
 caten-wheeling after 'busses, I've often wished tremendous I might 
 catch sight of Bertie. I do like her really ; so you might as well tell 
 me where she lives." As no answer was given, he began to taunt 
 his old nurse : "Ah! it's because I've got rags on you won't notice 
 a chap now." 
 
 " No, no, my Philip," she cried out, quickly ; " it isn't the rags and 
 mud on your back that grieve me. I was shocked, to be sure, to see 
 the boy I loved and reared as one of my own, looking like a street- 
 beggar, but it's the mud in you that hurts me so deeply. You talk 
 mud, and think mud, Phil, and you mustn't see Bertie." 
 
 This made the lad angry, and he commenced threatening her. 
 
 " Mind what you're about, mother, or you'll make me reg'lar wild. 
 If you don't tell me where Bertie lives, may my arm never come 
 straight if I don't get locked up to-night, and have three months of 
 it." He stretched out his little arm to the clouds, and as she, in 
 horror, seized his hand, he continued : " Now mark my words — and I 
 ain't joking — if I have gone wrong, you and Bertie is the only ones 
 as could put me straight again. I'd mind what you might say, but 
 you won't help a feller. If Bertie were to say, ' you shan't caten- 
 wheel again,' I'd give it over as quick as that" — and he snapped his 
 fingers. " There ! that'll show you how fond I am of her. Now, do 
 tell me where she is ; or, if you doubt a feller, take me yourself to see 
 her, and I'll do any mortal thing you choose, as a quits." 
 
 Like all boys, Phil, now that he had given vent to his anger, be- 
 came very depressed, and his former excitement changed into a pas- 
 sionate flood of tears. All the time he was crying he continued to 
 talk, entreating, with the greatest earnestness, to be told the girl's 
 address, and throwing his arms about him, or hitting the iron railings 
 
124 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 with his broom, as if lie was venting his spleen upon the metal. If 
 he could only have performed oue tithe of the noble actions he in his 
 rude manner of speech promised his foster-mother should dignify 
 his future career in life, in case she acceded to his entreaties, poor 
 Phil would in himself have furnished virtuous illustrations sufficient 
 for another volume of the Percy Anecdotes. At length the old nurse, 
 seeing what influence his foster-sister possessed over him, and know- 
 ing that whatever counsel the gentle-minded girl gave would be as 
 pure and good as innocence and affection could prompt, acceded to 
 his request. 
 
 But she affixed these conditions : 
 
 " You must be there," said she, beginning with stipulation No. 1, 
 " long before seven o'clock in the morning, for it would be as much 
 as Bertie's place is worth if the lady of the house, who has a deal of 
 plate, was to hear of you coming after her in those rags, Phil." 
 
 " All right," answered Phil, without feeling the least insulted at 
 the remark in his toilette ; " I'll go and sleep all night on the door- 
 step, with my head on the scraper to wake me early." 
 
 " And you must ring the area bell, mind," was clause No. 2. 
 
 " Yes, and I am a first-rate hand at ringing bells ; I'll make it sing 
 out like church time." 
 
 " No, no, you mustn't make a noise, you silly fellow, or else you'll 
 get Bertie turned away." 
 
 " No ! no ! I forgot. "What a flat I am ! I'll scarce touch it loud 
 enough to wake a weasel." 
 
 " And you'll promise," was the third condition, " to do as she tells 
 you?'; 
 
 " Of course I will, upon my sacred civey. Why, if Bertie was to 
 tell me to chuck a stone at the Lord Mayor of London hisself, I'd 
 have a shy at him, if I had to get into his gold coach to take aim." 
 
 CHAPTEB VI. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 
 
 The next' morning, long before five o'clock, Phil was leaning against 
 the railings of the house where Bertie lived. He had not been to bed 
 for fear that he might oversleep himself, and miss seeing his foster- 
 sister ; so the moment he could get away from the conversation at the 
 Jury-house he had set out for the place of meeting. • 
 
 Por nearly two hours the boy had to amuse himself as well as he 
 could in front of those railings, and to endure the annoyance of having 
 arrived too soon at the rendezvous. To help the time along he picked 
 up stones in the road, and had a game by himself at pitch-in-the-hole, 
 looking up anxiously at the house, between the throws, to see if any- 
 body was stirring within. But all the blinds were down, and not a 
 sound could he hear, listen as attentively as he would. The silence 
 made him feel sleepy, and to shake off the drowsiness he attempted to 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 125 
 
 establish an acquaintanceship with an old black cat that was resting 
 motionless as a miniature sphinx in a corner of the area. First he 
 called out "Puss! puss!" in his most captivating tones; but the 
 animal having opened its amber eyes to take a rapid glance at his cos- 
 tume, seemed to recognise him as belonging to the class it most 
 dreaded, and wisely refused to stir ; upon which the boy, to resent the 
 want of confidence, changed his tactics, and jerked pebbles at it, more 
 to the danger of the kitchen windows than the poor beast, who philo- 
 sophically retired to the dust-hole to finish its doze. 
 
 At last he heard a great ringing of bells inside the house, and a 
 few moments afterwards the kitchen shutters were opened, and on 
 peeping cautiously down the area he beheld a man in a striped jacket, 
 who was evidently the bed-loving footman the bells had been intended 
 to rouse; and never did he enjoy any pastime more than watching 
 this servant, as he shaved himself at a glass, no larger than a saucepan 
 lid, suspended in the window. Without being aware of it, that foot- 
 man was watched attentively, from the moment when he first lathered 
 a chin as black as a crape band on a white hat, to that satisfactory 
 period when he was passing his hand over the flesh and enjoying its 
 satin-like smoothness. 
 
 When Phil heard the clock strike six he thought he would take his 
 first pull at the area bell. He felt excessively nervous as the jingle 
 sounded below, scarcely louder than a clock striking, for he knew the 
 barbered footman would come out to speak to him in a contemptuous 
 manner, and Phil, who was a " child of liberty," felt that he really 
 could not stand any " bounce " from a footman. 
 
 Much to the boy's astonishment, he found that no notice was taken 
 of him or his summons. The menial merely advanced to the window, 
 and having examined him for a minute, by waving his] body about 
 with a parrot-like movement, retired again into the dark recesses of 
 his apartment. After the sixth time of ringing, the kitchen-door was 
 opened to make way for a woman's head, with a dull, stale look about 
 it, caused by her having omitted to wash her face. 
 
 "What are you worriting for, boy ?" the maid inquired; "can't 
 you stand still and leave that bell alone for a moment, and not go 
 rousing the house ? She'll be here directly." 
 
 Naturally enough Phil concluded that the " she" referred [to 
 Bertie, so he answered, 
 
 " Oh, thank you, miss," and felt considerably easier in his mind, 
 though it struck him as being very strange that this young woman 
 should have been acquainted with the object of his visit. 
 
 It was not long after this that a woman so fat that all her features 
 hung down in pouches which shook as she walked, made her appear- 
 ance, carrying a heavy market-basket, which dragged her sideways 
 like a pail of water. She toiled up the stone steps, smiling at Phil 
 as she said, half-coquettishly, 
 
 " Ah, your legs is younger than mine." An observation to which 
 the lad mentally responded, 
 
 " And a jolly sight thinner too, I'll bet, missus." 
 As the cook hoisted the pilferings over the area railings to the 
 boy, Bhe said, 
 
 " Give this to your mother, my dear, and tell her it's my day out 
 
126 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 next Sunday, and I shall come round early to dress, and she's to 
 mind and have my pink musling starched ; and ask her to be so good 
 as borrow them tongs agin, for I don't know as I shan't curl my 
 hair." 
 
 At first Phil stared, and looked into the basket to learn what it 
 meant. When he saw the slices of meat and the half-finished joint 
 mixed up with cold potatoes and remnants of loaves, he burst out 
 laughing, and said, 
 
 " You've regular took the wrong turning, mum, and lost your way 
 entirely ; I ain't the party as is waiting for this here breakfast." 
 And as he saw the pilfering cook stare with amazement, he added, 
 " If you'll tell a young woman what lives here, of the name of Bertha 
 Hazlewood, that she is wanted, I'll take it as a obligation." 
 
 " How dare yer come a-ringing at this time in the morning ?" 
 shouted the cook, in a passion. " I shall do nothing of the kind, for 
 your imperence." 
 
 The knowing street-boy was too well aware that he had the servant 
 in his power to care much for her threats, so he leaned against the 
 railings, and remembering the meat in the basket, said calmly, " Very 
 w r ell, mum, you can do as you like, only mind this here : the family 
 had roast pork for dinner yesterday ; and by-and-by I shall pay my 
 respex to your missus, and jist ask her if she'd like to know where 
 the cold jint is gone to." 
 
 The result of this threat was, that when Bertie came to speak to 
 Phil, she found him eating a thick slice of bread and meat. 
 
 The boy was hurt at the look of surprise and disappointment with 
 which his foster-sister greeted him. 
 
 The last time she had seen him was when they parted at the Nor- 
 wood school, and he was then a bright-faced, promising boy. She 
 had often called to mind the picture of that separation, and how in 
 his sorrow at losing his Bertie he had surlily quarrelled with her, 
 almost as if she had been leaving him of her own free will. 
 
 Then had come the news that Phil had run away, and she had 
 heard with aching heart the many speculations that had been made as 
 to what would become of him. Whilst others croaked out their evil 
 prophecies, and augured, from the flight of this workhouse bird, the 
 sinful future that awaited him, Bertha, who judged of everything 
 through her love rather than her reason, alone stood up in her Phil's 
 defence. Many a battle of words did she fight with stubborn talkers, 
 arguing, poor girl, till the tears came into her eyes, that her dear 
 brother would push his way honourably through life, and would come 
 back to them again — when many years had passed perhaps — if not a 
 rich, at least a just and upright man. And so often had Bertie in 
 this way argued, even to quarrelling, in Phil's defence, that at last 
 she had, by constant repetition, forced herself to believe that what 
 she hoped for so devoutly was really truth. 
 
 And now the reality was before her, and her courage and hopes 
 drew back snail-like into her heart at this one touch of truth. There 
 sat the boy she had nightly prayed for, dirty as a dust-heap, and 
 draped in rags that hung from him like the fleece of a muddy sheep. 
 Phil saw her stare, and her gaze cut him to the heart. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 127 
 
 "Don't look like that, Bertie," lie said; "it's enough to make a 
 feller turn desperate." 
 
 She did not answer him, but her large eyes were stretched wide 
 open, and her mouth apart. For some time she could not speak ; but 
 at last she gave a sigh, as if the pain of surprise had left her, and her 
 rigid limbs, that had been fixed with wonder, relaxed suddenly, as if 
 tired out by the emotion. 
 
 " I have been waiting for you a long time, Phil, but " She 
 
 could not finish the sentence, for there was an unkind thought in it. 
 
 " I know what you mean by that ' but,' " said Phil ; " you mean 
 all this here." And he pushed his hands among his rags, making them 
 flutter like feathers. 
 
 Bertie could not answer him, for he had guessed her meaning. 
 
 " Ah, Bertie, you can't love me half as much as I do you," he 
 whined out, crumbling up the bread he had but a moment before 
 been biting at so hungrily. " I knew you'd be shocked to see me, but, 
 though I was afraid, I came. If it had been the safe death of me, 
 I should have come all the same. You're not altered a bit," he 
 added, looking at her ; " it's only me as is altered." 
 
 He hoped his sister would have spoken to him, but not a word did 
 she utter. 
 
 " Come, Bertie," he implored, " give a feller one little word. I've 
 stopped up all night just to hear your voice, and now you won't speak 
 anything. I don't ask you to kiss a feller, or anythink of that sort, 
 but I did think you wouldn't be downright unkind. It takes the life 
 out of one, it do." 
 
 " And Phil, it has taken the life out of me, too," said Bertie, sadly, 
 " for you were part of what I lived for, and I was waiting so impa- 
 tiently for the day when I should see you once more, that now it has 
 come it kills me." 
 
 Poor girl, her eyes were running over with tears, though her face 
 was calm and her voice steady. Phil, as he sat on the door-step, 
 shuffled along until he was close to her, and then he felt the hot tears 
 fall upon his upturned face. Now he too could not speak. There 
 was a working in his throat and a tightness in his chest. She saw 
 that the flood-gates of his sorrow were open, and, kneeling close to 
 the crouching boy, she drew his head to hers and kissed him, as a 
 token that the prodigal was loved and forgiven. 
 
 She could not talk about the past, so they chatted over the future. 
 
 " Tou must leave this life, Phil," she said ; " it will be ruin to you." 
 
 ""Well, it ain't much better now," he answered. "I only made 
 ninepence yesterday." 
 
 " I don't mean ruined for want of money, Phil ; I mean you would 
 grow up a bad man," said the little woman of fifteen. " Just think 
 how mother and me would fret if anything was to happen to you, and 
 we were afraid to talk of you before people." 
 
 " But what am I to do?" said Phil. "Nobody'll give me work 
 with such clothes as these. I might just as well try to get took on 
 at a bank." 
 
 After they had been talking together for some time, and he had 
 given her a rough outline of the life he had been leading, Bertie com- 
 menced her good counsels by hinting that washing the face and hands 
 
128 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 not unfrequently added to the personal appearance. She also sug- 
 gested that stopping up all night was not the natural life that had 
 been ordained for striplings ; and she further continued her admo- 
 nitions by stating that, in order to obtain decent clothing, the first 
 step was to save up some of the daily earnings, and not expend every 
 penny that was given to him, either in purchasing pudding at the 
 cook-shop, or paying gambling debts for lessons at pitch-farthing. 
 
 But Bertie's moralising lost nearly all its effect from Phil's atten- 
 tion being just then occupied by watching a man who, mounted on 
 the extreme end of a donkey, was coming up the street, leading 
 another of the patient animals by a rope round the neck. This man, 
 to his astonishment, stopped before the very door where he and Bertie 
 were chatting. He saw him dismount, and, kneeling clown, rest his 
 head against the donkey's ribs, and begin milking it into a small 
 measure he drew from his pocket. 
 
 " Who drinks that stuff ?" asked Phil, turning up his nose in dis- 
 gust. 
 
 "Stuff indeed!" cried Bertie; "it's very dear stuff, and Miss 
 Tomsey, the lady I read to, takes it as medicine — a pint every day." 
 
 Phil still kept his eyes fixed on the donkey-man, and, attracted as 
 all lads are by animals, he could not help going up to them and play- 
 ing with their ears. 
 
 " Ah," said he, " if I could only get a job as a stable-boy, or 
 something, I should be made for life. That's what I'm most fittest 
 for." 
 
 Bertie, on mere speculation, ventured to ask the vendor of donkey*s 
 milk whether he happened to know of any place vacant just then, 
 where an active, and she added " honest," boy might get employ- 
 ment. 
 
 " Any charackter ?" asked Mr. Sparkler.' 
 
 " Oh, I know him well," said Bertie, as Phil scratched his head, 
 not knowing what to answer. 
 
 " "Well, boys is asked for pretty plentiful just now at Hampstead," 
 answered the man. " Can the young man run ?" 
 
 " I'll lick any 'bus on the road," said Phil, boastingly. 
 
 " And has the young man any clothes besides them there things ?" 
 continued Mr. Sparkler, evidently not very pleased with Phil's 
 costume. 
 
 " Yes," said Bertie, firmly, which made Phil stare at her with 
 surprise. 
 
 " "Well," said the donkey proprietor, " he can go see my missus, 
 and talk it over with her. Ask for Mrs. Sparkler, donkey-keeper, the 
 Drying-ground, Hampstead, Hollvhock Cottage." 
 
 " Which is the nearest way there ?" asked Phil, with delight. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Sparkler; "keep up the road till you come to 
 the William the Fourth, then turn round as far as the Hare and 
 Hounds, and anybody '11 tell you which is the Trusty Friend, and 
 my place is close by, four doors from the Jolly Sailor." 
 
 How Phil became a donkey-boy, and how he prospered in his new 
 calling, will be seen in the next chapter. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 129 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 HAMPSTEAD. 
 
 Call the world into school, and when the millions are seated in 
 their classes, let the schoolmaster walk among the forms, and ask, 
 " "What is happiness ?" How many guesses will be made at the 
 riddle ? 
 
 " Glory," roars the soldier. And yet those who have burned cities 
 into dust-heaps, have — when they came to sift the cinders — found 
 little happiness among the ruins. Alexander died of delirium tremens, 
 aged thirty-three ; Miltiades expired in prison ; Siccius Dentatus, 
 the hero of one hundred and forty battles, was assassinated ; Hannibal 
 poisoned himself; Belisarius had his eyes put out ; Caesar was mur- 
 dered ; and Napoleon — everybody knows his fate. 
 
 " Titles," suggests the politician. But if a short name cannot 
 bring happiness, how can a long one ? — will extending a man's cogno- 
 men, like the lengthening of a ship, add to his qualities ? A firma- 
 ment of stars may decorate a bosom, but — according to Louis XVI. 
 — there are clouds that will overcast even such a heaven. 
 
 " Eiches," cries the poor man, forgetting that to have more than 
 we can enjoy is the same as not having it at all. Demidoff owned 
 gold mines, but he eat and drank himself a cripple, and what benefit' 
 was his treasure to him ? He died worth millions, and passed the 
 better half of his life in a chair on wheels. The only privilege of his 
 wealth was to prevent others from possessing it. 
 
 " Health," groans the rich man, turning his back on the labourer, 
 who, although he never knew a day's sickness, sighs heavily over his 
 misery in having to support the most salubrious of families on seven 
 shillings a week. 
 
 " Beauty," simpers the woman of fashion. A five years' glory and 
 a life's misery ; for even when the beauty is gone, it leaves behind it 
 the insolent remembrance of its possession. "Where did lovely Helen 
 of Troy die ? Did she expire with the serpent of remorse gnaw- 
 ing at her heart, with as sharp a tooth as when the asp of the Nile 
 fastened upon the arm of the splendid Cleopatra ? 
 
 "What is happiness ? For how many hundred years have stoics 
 and epicureans made themselves miserable, and pummelled and cud- 
 gelled each other in argument, without being able to settle the point? 
 A house might be built up with the volumes that metaphysicians 
 have written on the subject. Does happiness consist in sensual or 
 mental delights, or is it a state of continual agreeable feeling, or the 
 gratification of some desire which enables us to enjoy the blessings 
 already in our possession ? Let wiser and better heads than ours 
 grow grey and bald in settling the matter. "We have a youth near at 
 hand who will speedily reveal to us how his happiness was brought 
 
 K 
 
130 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 about, and of what it was composed. Come here, Philip Merton ! 
 "What's perfect happiness, sir ? 
 
 " A strong boy's corduroy suit, with a double row of pearl buttons 
 down the breast, and a coat cut like a groom's." 
 
 Philip is happy and chirping with delight, because his clothes are 
 as sound as the skin of an orange. He walks along, upright with 
 pride, as if he had a family tree at his back to straighten it. 
 
 A drawer had been unlocked and a little treasure taken out, and 
 Bertha, with a half-sigh, had counted the silver pieces into Philip's 
 hand. 
 
 He seemed to be abashed at taking the girl's earnings, for, as if his 
 conscience troubled him, he said, " I have no right to take this from 
 you, Bertie, and mother, too, a-wanting it all along." But he closed 
 his fingers on the coin nevertheless. 
 
 "With his hands in his pockets, he strutted up Tottenham-court- 
 road, delighted with himself as a footman in a new livery. At 
 nearly every step he cast a complacent glance at his clothes, either 
 brushing away any dust that may have fallen on them, or admiring 
 the neat manner in which his trousers fell over his thick highlows. 
 The reflexion of his tout ensemble in the shop windows afforded him 
 singular satisfaction. He seemed to be greatly pleased with his 
 general effect, and took an essential delight in making his nether 
 garments " whistle," as the noise produced by the friction of corduroy 
 is musically styled by the vulgar. 
 
 In those times the route to Hampstead was very different in ap- 
 pearance from what it is now. The road of Tottenham, which in our 
 day looks like a poor relation of Regent-street, had then no furniture 
 shops to block up the pavement with sofas, chairs, and tables ; neither 
 had American photographists discovered the economic process of 
 taking correct likenesses for sixpence ; nor had Italian pastrycooks hit 
 upon the original notion of giving a wine-glassful of strawberry cream 
 or lemon ice for a penny. 
 
 Down the Hampstead-road the spirit of commerce had not then 
 converted the gardens before the houses into shops, but every tene- 
 ment had its railed-in patch of gravelly-looking mould and mouldy- 
 looking gravel, where nothing seemed green but the w ee ds, and no 
 plant flourished but the Michaelmas daisy, amid whose luxuriant 
 stems the stray cats of the neighbourhood found excellent sleeping 
 accommodation, curling themselves up in the middle of the rank herb 
 as securely as a slug in a box border. In the hopes of getting a 
 flower for his button-hole, Philip entered several of these unthriving 
 plots, but he only found lilac bushes with twigs as black as crayons 
 and leaves as dusty as a top shelf. 
 
 When you call back the recollections of your youth, is it not 
 wonderful to think how this big London of ours has grown and 
 stretched itself out within the last few years ? Squares and crescents 
 have crept out like the suckers of a tree, the jagged edges of the town 
 fill up the fields where, in Philip's time, cows were feeding and boys 
 flying their kites. Mother Redcap's had waggons and carriers' carts 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 131 
 
 in front of it instead of yellow omnibuses, and where a row of shops 
 are now built Philip laid himself down in the tall grass and chewed 
 buttercups. 
 
 It is not far back since the renters of the Augusta and Frederika 
 Villas, the Caroline Lodges, and the Laburnum Cottages, lying at the 
 foot of Haverstock Hill, thought themselves in the country, and would 
 talk of sleeping out of town in the pure air, and boast of the land- 
 scape to be seen from their top windows. But now fierce yellow and 
 red brick houses, with plate-glass windows and stucco cornices, have 
 shot past them to close out the view and mingle their smoke with the 
 breeze. Up the hill they creep, lining each side with a vast number of 
 " The Lindens" without a lime-tree, and " The Elms" without an elm, 
 besides peaceful battle-christened tenements, such as " Blenheim 
 House" and " Trafalgar Hall," whose inmates, quiet souls, have never 
 thought of any war excepting that waged against black-beetles ; and 
 who, whenever thev see a red coat advancing, feel convinced that he 
 has come to make love to the kitchen-maid and sack the larder. 
 
 On trudged Phil, with his coat on his arm and a holly leaf in his 
 mouth, wishing that the hills were not so steep nor the day so hot 
 and dusty. He passed the then country -looking roadside inn " The 
 Load of Hay," and, thirsty as he was, he felt as if he could have 
 snatched the mug of beer from the drover — who, whilst his flock of 
 sheep were lying panting about the road, was drinking at the bar. 
 
 To prove the superiority of man over the brute creation, our youth 
 made a point of passing every omnibus upon the roads, leaving them and 
 their three horses to creep up the hills after him ; and he even entered 
 into a spirited competition with a washerwoman's cart, and could have 
 easily distanced the hopping mop-tailed cob, but he felt himself turn- 
 ing to a lobster tint with the heat, and his legs growing stiff as stilts. 
 He never rested unless it was to take a peep over the oak palings 
 and square-clipped hedges that enclosed some of the grounds by 
 the way. The sight of the old Queen Anne mansions, looking as 
 red as a strawberry in the midst of the huge green trees, with their 
 frowning roofs surmounted with a wedding-cake ornament of a belfry, 
 seemed to fascinate him to the spot, and he could not help thinking 
 to himself what a "jolly easy time of it" the young ladies must have 
 whom he saw working at the bow- windows that opened into the lawn. 
 "Ah!" thought Phil, "if I had a house like that, what a first-rate 
 chap I should be all of a sudden ;" and he gazed at the flower-beds 
 piled up with bloom and spotted with colours as a mound of wafers, 
 and he stared at the square paddocks of rippling grass divided by the 
 neatest of iron hurdles, and imagined to himself what delightful fun 
 those same young ladies would have when the hay-making time 
 arrived, romping among the new-mown crop, and how they would 
 enjoy sleeping in its perfume by night. 
 
 The Belsize estate also met with our young gentleman's warmest 
 approval, and he stood at the iron gates staring down the long 
 avenue of trees that covered in the carriage-drive like a green hood, 
 until somebody came out of the lodge to ask him " what he wanted," 
 and his desires being at that moment of an impossible nature (being, 
 
 k2 
 
132 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 indeed, no less than a wish to possess the estate), he did not think fit 
 to enter into any explanation, but moved away. 
 
 He had reached Downshire Hill before he caught sight of any evi- 
 dence of the donkey business being in a thriving condition. Stand- 
 ing at a garden-gate was a Bath chair, with one of the patient dust- 
 coloured animals harnessed in front of it. The boy was so mucli 
 pleased with this ingenious vehicle for invalids, that he endeavoured 
 to enter into conversation with its owner, informing him that he 
 considered the turn-out to be a kind of young cabriolet before its 
 wheels were properly grown ; but the proprietor, not being in a con- 
 versational mood, gave grunts in reply, and eventually made a remark 
 about the advantage to be gained by some one " stepping it." After 
 Phil had seen an old lady on crutches deposited. inside the chair, 
 where she bore a strong family likeness to the prompter at the 
 Opera, he went on his way again, staring about him with the greatest 
 industry. He even became interested in the welfare of the inha- 
 bitants, and wondered to himself whether Neale, the carrier, who 
 announced that he visited " all parts of London daily," made a pretty 
 good thing of it. 
 
 At the coach-office he made inquiries as to the whereabouts of 
 Hollyhock Cottage, the residence of Mrs. Sparkler. It was some 
 time before he could get anybody to attend to liim, and the delay 
 afforded him ample opportunities for studying the habits of omnibus 
 drivers. He heard one lady who was seeking for information about 
 the "time of starting," receive the unintelligible reply of " a quarter 
 a'ter, harf a'ter, quarter to, and at ;" he witnessed a dispute between 
 a conductor and his coachman, who was upbraiding him for " never 
 looking about him nor nothen ;" and he heard inquiries made as to 
 " whether Jim had greased that off mare's fetlock," or had " had that 
 bay osse's collar took in a bit." 
 
 He was told to climb up a steep embankment that stood like a cliff 
 by the roadside, and then turn down long narrow lanes as steep as 
 staircases, and round by stable-yards, where fierce dogs rushed about 
 and barked behind the gates and endeavoured to force their wet noses 
 through impossible openings. He asked everybody he met which way 
 he should go, and it was only after he had turned to the right at least 
 twenty times that he at length arrived at the residence of the Sparkler 
 family. 
 
 There was a little colony of some dozen cottages, and washing 
 and donkey-letting were the trades the inhabitants lived by. Over 
 •every door hung a board with either " Mangling done here," or 
 " Donkeys for hire ;" and, as if to avoid too great a monotony in re- 
 peating these announcements, every style and size of writing had 
 been employed, though the thin white spider letter on the black 
 ground appeared to be the favourite type. The day being propitious 
 for drying, the gardens and hedges about were covered with linen ; 
 lace collars and nightcaps were spread upon bushes, pocket-hand- 
 kerchiefs and stockings were fastened down with stones on grass- 
 plats, and shirts and petticoats, distended to their utmost tightness 
 by the wind, fluttered from the lines, their proportions looking so 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 133 
 
 terribly unfit for human use, that a notion crossed the mind that all 
 the owners must be in the last stage of dropsy. 
 
 Mr. Sparkler was evidently a refined man, who, although to the 
 world he might seem to devote himself to the letting out of donkeys, was 
 at heart a florist. His cottage — which was about as large as a hayrick, 
 and had a straw thatch cut close over the windows, like a Methodist's 
 hair — was ornamented in front by a small one-two-three-and-jump 
 garden, intersected with gravel paths not broader than deal boards, 
 which entailed balancing on those who tight-roped its walks. The beds 
 were not larger than mattresses, but no lodging-house couch was ever 
 more crowded. The flowers were packed as closely as nosegays, and 
 how the mould could support such a crop— unless concentrated like 
 portable soup — was a great, unanswerable mystery. Standard roses, 
 with their blooming tops, stood gay as new bonnets perched up in a mil- 
 liner's window ; pansies as large as butterflies, hollyhocks like rosette 
 adorned fishing-rods, and pinks big as shaving-brushes, decorated this 
 essence of a garden. In one corner stood the summer-house, where 
 of an evening Sparkler smoked his pipe ; and even here the consum- 
 mate taste of the man had exhibited itself. Adorning its summit was 
 an arm-crossed statuette of Bonaparte, and china dogs and plaster 
 images decked the roof like a mantelpiece. 
 
 Philip stood at the gate of this Eden, not daring to pass the palings 
 of butter staves, which shut him out from its delights. He might have 
 doubted if such splendour could belong to any being who supported 
 himself by sixpenny donkey rides, if it had not been for the board 
 over the door, announcing that Tobias Sparkler was in that line of 
 business. • ^^ * - 
 
 All the Sparkler family were away from home, the care of the house 
 being for the time entrusted to a ginger-edged cur, with a tail that 
 might have been used as a crumb-brush, who went into a paroxysm 
 of barking, and showed all his front teeth in an uncivil manner. 
 This dog was evidently kept as a kind of " knock and ring" to the 
 Sparkler family, and no double rat-tat or bell-pull could have more 
 effectually announced a visitor. Pour stout women issued from a 
 neighbouring cottage to see what the noise was about, and Philip, 
 picking out the one whose hands seemed least like a washerwoman's, 
 instantly addressed her as " Mrs. Sparkler, mum." 
 
 " So he said you was to talk it over with me," said that lady, after 
 the cause of the visit had been explained. " "What do I know about 
 * boys ?' There's nothen but boys now-a-times ; I never see such a 
 lot of boys. They swarm— literal swarm !" 
 
 Phil tried to look as if, despite the present glut, there were very 
 few who could come up to him. 
 
 " "Where the boys spring from," continued Mrs. Sparkler, address- 
 ing her friends, " is more than in me lies to say. If they was im- 
 ported by barrelfuls they couldn't be more abounding. And they 
 come to you as cool as imaginable, and says, ' Do you want a boy ?' . 
 
 "I had two come to me last Thusday," said one of the washer- 
 women, in corroboration — " both nice boys enough ; but what use is 
 boys to me ?" 
 
134 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " Mrs. Millins's boy, too, is out of work," added another lady, 
 " and, as it might be yesterday, she ask me if I wanted a boy. ' What 
 for ?' says I. 
 
 " "Why can't Sparkler see to his own boys, 'stead of worretting my 
 life with 'em," was the wife's complaint. " One can't sit down to a 
 cup of tea but, before you've raised your saucer to your lips, there's 
 boys must be attended to. They're wuss teasers than flies. Dear 
 me! these boys is wearing me to shreds." 
 
 She was a stout woman of thirty, in form somewhat resembling a 
 cottage loaf, and Phil felt perfectly convinced that she would last her 
 time, despite her troubles. To try and conciliate her, he ventured to 
 say that if he were engaged, the only reason he should have for living 
 would be to comfort and assist his mistress. 
 
 " It's too bad of Sparkler to leave everything to me," continued the 
 woman. " It's slaving from first thing when you get up till it's time 
 to go to bed again. Pirst there's saddles to look to, then there's 
 donkeys to be sent out, then there's accounts to keep, and 'undreds 
 of other things." 
 
 " I don't mind what I do, and I am very fond of gardening, or 
 working anyhow that's useful," said Phil, beginning to enumerate his 
 good qualities. 
 
 " Then there's seeing that them other boys don't cheat the very 
 eyes out of your head," she grumbled. 
 
 " I'm sure I wouldn't do anybody out of — no ! not so much as 
 half a farthing, mum," murmured the lad. 
 
 "Don't tell me, boy!" growled Mrs. Sparkler. "It's like your 
 impudence to say so. All boys is alike. You're human natur', ain't 
 you ? Then hold your tongue." 
 
 This interview ended in an appeal to the feelings of the women, 
 made by Master Merton in a fit of desperation at the slight prospect 
 he saw of an engagement. He commenced by saying that it was 
 very odd, but people seemed to take an especial pleasure in perse- 
 cuting him, detailing with great excitement and feeling the struggles 
 he had gone through, and w r ound up with a half threat that if his 
 good intentions were this time thwarted he saw no help for earning 
 a living but by leading a most abandoned and vicious existence. 
 
 "It's hawful to hear him talk," cried one of the washerwomen; 
 " where's your parents, you wicked boy ?" 
 
 " I am an orphan, and that's what's agin' me," he muttered. " If 
 I'd got some one to help a fellow, do you think I'd be like this ? 
 Ah, I only wish you was orphans, you'd find it out then." 
 
 They were preparing to answer him, when he broke out again : 
 
 " It ain't as if I came here without a good word to back me, but 
 Mr. Sparkler knows our people w r ell enough." 
 
 " "Who's your people ?" asked Mrs. S. 
 
 "Why, Tomsey's people," he replied, "as takes in their pint of 
 ass's miik regular." 
 
 Mrs. Sparkler suddenly entered her cottage. She had gone to see 
 if Tomsey's account had been settled. The examination of the 
 memorandum-book was evidently satisfactory, for Philip was told to 
 proceed to the heath, and ask for one Fred Jackson, and announce 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 135 
 
 to him that for the future he was to be employed among the long- 
 eared stud. 
 
 Fred Jackson, or, as his companions called him, Swinging Fred, 
 was a tall, gipsy-looking fellow, with a sunburnt face and a couple 
 of black ringlets hanging down each cheek. He w r as celebrated 
 among donkey- drivers both for the length of his locks and the ad- 
 mirable manner in which he managed the steeds, for, whilst he could 
 tie his curls under his chin, he, on the other hand, was so clever with 
 his stick, that, with one blow struck somewhere under the ear, he could 
 most surely bring any rebellious animal to the ground. Dressed in 
 his dirty flannel-jacket and leaning over a saddle, he did not look such 
 a terrible fellow ; but the donkeys knew him well enough, and even 
 when he coughed up went the ears, as if they were on their guard 
 against the strong-armed foe. 
 
 The first thing Swinging Fred did was to make the new boy pay 
 his footing, which he fixed at sixpence, for a pot (his drink was ale, with 
 gin in it, of which he could swallow immense quantities), and the next 
 Was to roar out, " Sam Curt" in so loud a voice that all the donkeys 
 on the heath heard him and grew restless. "Here, Sam Curt! 
 "Where is yer ?" 
 
 " Gone to Frognell Eise"— •" No he ain't"—" Why I see him 
 there a minute since" — * Got a job to the Spaniards," shouted so many 
 at once, that replies seemed to come from all quarters. Eventually, 
 a lad came shuffling up, who turned out to be the same Curt who was 
 in such great demand. 
 
 " Been touting on the hill, Fred 7 " he said, in a frightened voice. 
 
 "And who telled you to do it ? — What do you do it for, then?" 
 growled the Swinger. " I'll break every bone in your skin, you young 
 rat." And Sam looked frightened, and all the donkeys that had 
 been lying down rose up very rapidly and fidgeted about. 
 
 Phil thought to himself, " He's a nice sort of a master to have to 
 spend your days with." 
 
 " Here, take that young 'un along with you," said Swinging Fred, 
 pointing to Merton, " and put him up to what he's got to do. Do 
 you hear ? — then do it." 
 
 Theie wasn't much work on hand for the first week or so that Phil 
 was at Hampstead, and he had plenty of time to study the details of 
 the business. His greatest delight was to lie down on the grass, or 
 sit on the chains that keep the flag-post steady, and look at the 
 landscape. The broad heath stretched out before him, covered with 
 dots of furze-bushes that seemed to freckle the ground like a country- 
 man's sunburnt face. What a glorious fringe of trees surrounds this 
 London's playground ! If it were not for the lamp-posts in the road 
 beyond, who could imagine so lovely a spot was so near to the 
 monster city. 
 
 Sometimes the lad would wonder w T ho lived in the grand houses on 
 the skirts of the heath. They lie concealed in the verdure of their 
 surrounding trees, as if, after having crept up so close to the public 
 ground, they were afraid of being sent back again, and had hidden 
 
136 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 themselves from sight. The round, tall chesnut-trees were in bloom, 
 with their white pagodas of flowers standing up at the tips of the 
 "boughs like candles on a Christmas-tree. Philip could, from where 
 he lay stretched on the turf, see into the gardens belonging to some 
 of these mansions and catch sight of the fruit-trees in the orchards, 
 big mounds of blossom with all the ground about them speckled 
 with the falling bloom, as if a thousand love-letters had been torn into 
 small pieces and thrown there. 
 
 Sometimes a donkey, enjoying himself in the distance, would begin 
 to bray, and then other donkeys scattered about would answer as 
 cocks do, and eventually, after the music had been taken up in all 
 corners of the heath, the whole body of those on the top would join 
 in chorus, and throw out their music with deafening effect. 
 
 On one side of the heath — the West-end side — there is an avenue 
 of old elms, where the young ladies' schools walk up and down, 
 treading among the sundrops that have fallen through the leaves 
 and made golden rings on the ground, and it was our boy's delight 
 to sit down on one of the benches and listen to these little scholars 
 chatting with their French governess. " What on earth," he would 
 think to himself, " does she mean by saying, after looking at me, 
 * Eegard, mam'selle, ce sal petit garsong-la,' " If ever these little 
 ladies extended their promenade into the heath itself, he fol- 
 lowed the petticoated regiment as it appeared and disappeared among 
 the risings and hollows of the ground, and wondered in his mind 
 whether Bertha would ever have such nice clothes as they wore, and 
 be able to talk about the " Sal garsong-la" as they had done. 
 
 How lovely did the distance too appear, with its purple bloom of 
 haze over it. The tree-tops, rolling round and round like smoke, 
 looked as soft and pouting as a cushion; the fields, veined with 
 hedges, dividing off the little bright-coloured patches of ground as 
 irregularly as the glass in a stained cathedral window. The only 
 sounds to be heard were the cawing of rooks and the birds singing 
 in the trees around, unless some burst of distant laughter attracted 
 the eye to the little specks romping together among the far-off furze- 
 bushes. That lake of water seen like a stain miles away over the tree- 
 tops, was, Phil knew, the Eeservoir at Kingsbury, and Harrow on 
 the Hill stood out plainly against the white clouds on the horizon, 
 whilst, by looking between the chimney of yonder big white house 
 and the poplar near it, he could see a smudge of background which 
 was Windsor Round-tower. 
 
 Eound the pond with the rusty iron pipe sticking up in it are 
 ranged the donkey-gigs and one-horse flys, and further on are clustered 
 together the saddled asses, all with their heads together, as if they 
 were whispering like jurymen considering their verdict. How those 
 gigs can " pay" we never could imagine. They are curious, shattered- 
 looking turn-outs, as clumsily put together as a schoolboy's paste- 
 board model — overgrown children's carts, with wheels not larger 
 than a wheelbarrow's, and lined with limp chintz, or patched with 
 worn-out japanned cloth that had once formed part of a table-cover. 
 The donkeys that pull them are all pot-bellied, and have under their 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 137 
 
 round, drooping stomachs a fringe of hair so long that the wind 
 blows it about. The poor brutes, with their loug ears lopping down, 
 look like big rabbits. Nor are the one-horse fiys much better 
 than the gigs, for their linings all look tumbled, as if they had been 
 slept in, and the big gaunt steeds have long heads, with a drooping, 
 sulky-looking under-lip. One has been fired in the fetlock, and the 
 bulging flesh is scored like a melon with the scars. Another — a white 
 horse with, a black nose and a dirty draggle tail, stuck together at 
 the tips — is blind of both eyes, and his ribs ripple up the carcase, each 
 one as distinct as the folds of an accordian. 
 
 Aided by his friend Sam Curt — or Snorting Sam, as he was called 
 from an unfortunate habit of breathing loudly — Philip soon got to 
 know every donkey on the heath as perfectly as a shepherd distin- 
 guishes every sheep in his flock. 
 
 The stud of donkeys then exposed for hire by the ten oy eleven 
 proprietors who "worked" Hampstead, formed a most various and 
 eccentric collection, for they were of all ages and colour, some so 
 small that Swinging Fred could straddle them like a colossus, and 
 others so large, that, with their bulging saddles on, they might almost 
 have passed for stunted camels. Their harness was neither first nor 
 second-rate, but of the lowest possible rate, fastened together by 
 string instead of buckles, with the leathern tongues sticking out in 
 every direction. The greater number of the animals were so thin 
 that the backbone stood up almost like the keel of a boat. To pre- 
 vent any rubbing from the saddle, pieces of drugget or sacking, and 
 even whisps of hay, were tucked as a pad under the seat, so that, 
 everything considered, the poor brutes had an untidy, sluttish ap- 
 pearance, as if they had dressed themselves with the hurry of a maid- 
 of-all-work at a lodging-house. Perhaps those destined for the espe- 
 cial service of ladies were the most remarkable for a slovenly neglige, 
 their costume being something after the grandeur of a circus palfrey, 
 with a slight mixture of the Eoman toga, for over the wide-seated 
 saddles were placed linen coverings, decorated with red braid edgings, 
 which, when clean and not too much torn, no doubt had a very smart 
 appearance. These " ladies' donkeys" were also distinguished by 
 being nearly cut in two by the girths, which were pulled up so tightly 
 that their waists seemed to rival in smallness the formation of the 
 frog — a species of tight-lacing which did not improve the appearance 
 of the long-eared quadrupeds. 
 
 Poor, ill-used creatures ! the worst-fated of all hard-working 
 servants ; who, because they are patient, have to suffer more blows 
 than the most vicious and ill-disposed of earthly four-legged 
 blessings. It puzzles one, after watching these donkeys for some 
 time, to tell whether their resignation proceeds from philosophy 
 or stupidity. A stick rattles down on their flank, and the only re- 
 monstrance made is that the rope's-end of a tail is tucked in tighter 
 than before, and the animal, as if it knew the Christian creed, 
 apparently chides its oppressor on Church principles, for, after re- 
 ceiving a blow on one side, it presents the other to the enemy to 
 receive the balancing thwack. Your intelligent horse throws out his 
 legs and kicks ; your sensible dog bites if he can, or growls and 
 
138 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 shows his teeth ; hut the poor ass, awakened from its sleep by a 
 smart blow across the loin, takes no more notice of the insult than 
 if a leaf had fallen on him. 
 
 "Whenever Sam Curt took the new boy among the donkeys for the 
 purposes of instruction, it was his practice to direct the attention 
 of his pupil to any particular animal worthy of his notice, by flicking 
 it adroitly on the part which he considered to be the tenderest^of the 
 body. 
 
 " There, that's a nice 'un," said the youth, pointing to one of the 
 brutes with the insides of its ears as full of hair as a lady's slipper; 
 " we calls her Everlasting Teakettle. Get up you there, Everlasting 
 Teakettle ! Mothers of fam'lies and nusses allers ask for her of a 
 morning. They're very fond of her, 'cos she carries two;" and he 
 pointed to a child's swing of a chair, which was strapped to Everlast- 
 ing Teakettle's back. 
 
 " Where's the one you call the winner of the Derby ?" asked 
 Phil. 
 
 " We've got such a lot of 'em," answered Sam. " They've all been 
 winners, only every year we changes 'em. Now this little chap as is 
 at present called Lady Snuffers, has been Eclipse, and the winner of 
 the Two Thousand Guinea Stakes, and Elying Dutchman, and ever so 
 many more. He's as fat as a little pig and get his own living — don't 
 want nothing to eat of us. Here's Crab-apple Betsy, too," he con- 
 tinued, advancing a few paces ; " she has been the winner of the Oaks 
 and the Chester Cup, and a heap of others. She's so gentle, you can 
 a'most do anything with her." And to prove his words he adminis- 
 tered a smart cut with his whip, which made poor Crab-apple Betsy 
 hop vigorously. She took it gently enough. 
 
 A big donkey, with rough, curling hair, whose hind legs had been 
 clipped to allow the stick to have a better effect, attracted Phil's 
 notice. 
 
 "He is a beauty if you like," cried Snorting Sam, leaning against 
 it. "He's Elm-tree J e, and the quickest that ever runs. Just you 
 see." And he set to work beating the clipped portion of the animal's 
 body, whilst in a guttural voice he growled out, " Go along with yer, 
 Joe," so that the brute, finding that serious work was intended, 
 darted off at a full gallop, the boy following and trailing his stick in 
 the road to make a noise. 
 
 It was astonishing to hear how well Master Curt was acquainted 
 with the good qualities of the different donkeys he patronised with his 
 notice, and yet surprising to witness the cruelty with which he ac- 
 companied his praise. He passed a row of them, standing as quietly 
 as if they had been toys on a shelf, but he could not refrain from 
 rousing them out of their sleep with his knocks. 
 
 " Come up, there, Crazy Jane ! — hi ! hi ! you White Alice ! — stir up, 
 you Old One Eye — I'll give you something, you Bobtail— now then, 
 you old Dook of Brunswick." 
 
 The hollow sound of the stick on the ribs made the mass move un- 
 easily, and run together like a drove of sheep. 
 
 " That's such a one as you don't see often," said Snorting Sam, 
 stopping before a donkey with a vicious eye, shaped like the slit in a 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 139 
 
 violin. It had a thick mop of fur on its forehead, which afforded 
 Master Curt a firm grip whilst he said, " Every hair in its 'ead is 
 worth pounds, and all over alike. You might go one thousand miles 
 and not meet with such a one-er as this here Ingia-rubbia is. Stir 
 up, there, old Ingia-rubbia. It can do a' most every think but speak," 
 added the driver, lashing at its ears as if he was trying to cut them 
 off like tall weeds, and certainly one of the things that India-rubb8r 
 could do, was to kick, and very near to Snorting Samuel too. 
 
 It happened that some of the asses, being, perhaps, soured with 
 life, and rendered quarrelsome by persecution, began to fight and bite 
 each other. Like a hawk darting at a hedge-sparrow, Snorting 
 Curt dashed into the midst of the fray, and laid about him vigorously, 
 shouting to the music of his blows, 
 
 " Hulloa, you Prince o' Wales ! — would you, Laura Smith !— what 
 are you about there, Bonny Black Bess ? — I'm after you, Lady Milk- 
 maid — and you too, Gentleman Jerry !" 
 
 When the battle had ended and quiet was restored, Sam, in answer 
 to the question as to which was the best donkey of the lot, thus de- 
 livered his opinion : 
 
 " We calls Hearts of Gold the pride of the world, 'cos she's the 
 fastest, and biggest, and prettiest — a piebald, very handsome, and a 
 'Curiosity, which is in her favour, which was offered four pound for. 
 But I'd as soon have Lightheart. You'll say why ? Well, for this 
 here : I fancies him more, and he'd go till he bustes hisself." 
 
 After a pause, he added : 
 
 " But, after all, what's donkeys to ponies for fastness ? Mr. Lam- 
 fret, him as owns the white and roan ponies, he wouldn't take a ten- 
 pound note for either of them. There they stand with their nose- 
 bags on, and one of them's got eyes as blue as plums. Only the worst 
 of ponies is this : a gentleman says I want a half-crown ride, and off 
 he goes for a hour and don't come back again, and the next thing we 
 hears of is, that the pony is in the pound or at the green-yard, and 
 they come down on you for ten bob." 
 
 The duty assigned to Phil was that of touting for custom, Mr. 
 Sparkler considering that the newness of the boy's clothes should be 
 duly taken advantage of, as an evidence of the respectable manner in 
 which he conducted his business. 
 
 The instructions given to the lad were to take up his stand by the 
 Coach and Horses public-house, and, whenever he saw anybody 
 coming, to rush up to them, and, no matter what their age or size 
 might be, to ask them perseveringly, " Do you want a nice saddle- 
 donkey ?" 
 
 With an honest enthusiasm Phil carried out these instructions to 
 the quick, and in a few days he became the terror of every old lady in 
 the neighbourhood ; indeed, many most respectable persons have as- 
 serted that "he did it on purpose." 
 
 " Do you want a nice donkey, mum ?" he would half confidentially 
 ask of these aged matrons ; and when they turned round to say " No, 
 my boy ; how ridiculous !" he would add, " Nice comfortable soft 
 saddle, mum, uncommon easy!" 
 
140 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " Go about your "business, sir," would be the reply. 
 
 Then Phil would walk by their side, whispering, "Have a nice 
 cheer, mum, or a nice easy shay, mum ?" 
 
 " No, no, no, I tell you !" 
 
 " Got so very nice saddle-ponies, mum — carry you like a feather !" 
 
 # Then the elderly matrons lost all patience, and they stood still and 
 
 looked about them for a policeman, as they muttered between their 
 
 gums, " I'll give you in charge, you bad boy ! How dare you ask me 
 
 to ride on a pony ?" 
 
 When giving Philip his instructions, Mr. Sparkler had laid down 
 this important axiom : " Say everything's nice — nice donkeys, nice 
 saddles, nice shays, nice everything. It's time enough for them to 
 find out if the things is nasty after they've paid their money." 
 
 Philip didn't enjoy this " touting " much, for he was longing to have 
 his share of the fun on the heath ; and every night, when Sam Curt 
 related to him the adventures of the day, he would inveigh bitterly 
 against old Sparkler for "keeping a fellow sticking down in the 
 beastly village." 
 
 No doubt to Phil the town of Hampstead did seem a melancholy 
 place enough. There wasn't a shop he cared to look into, for even at 
 the library they never changed the prints exposed for sale. He 
 hated those chemists' shops with the small greenhouse windows, 
 where pickles, sauces, and cigars were vended as well as medicine ; 
 and he looked with contempt upon the draper's establishment, where 
 hats, shirts, boots, and cotton prints were exposed for sale in a com- 
 partment scarcely larger than a one-horse stall. The boy said it was 
 like being in a country town a thousand miles from town. The 
 farrier's shop opened on to the road, and the tea-dealer, the butcher, 
 and the tailor all announced that they were from London in so pomp- 
 ous a manner, it was impossible to fancy you were only five miles away 
 from it. 
 
 It does indeed seem like some old-fashioned town. In some parts 
 of the road there are high embankments, with -tall elms, in which the 
 rooks have built, leaning over the highway as if they were top-heavy 
 from their round, full branches. All the place is so silent that the 
 livery-stable cocks at one end of the street crow out and defy those 
 crowing at the greengrocer's at the other extremity of the town. The 
 only excitement the place knows is when some travelling circus 
 pitches its tent on the heath, or when some horse, coming down the 
 steep hill, grows frightened with the pressure of the vehicle, and runs 
 away, in which case the carriage and its contents are — at the sudden 
 turning of the road — sure to dash into the coffee-house next the Black 
 Boy and Still, smashing the windows and scattering the customers. 
 
 If you cross the road and seek out West-end-square, you will find 
 it the most rustic-looking place, with a tree growing in the centre of 
 the pavement, whilst the houses have a William and Mary look about 
 them, being built of red brick, with heavy white casements, as clumsily 
 made as the stage-coach windows of old, and over the street doors are 
 old-fashioned carved porticos. They don't make such stout leaden 
 water-pipes now-a-days as those against these houses, neither do we 
 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 141 
 
 forge such iron lamp -holders and gates, with twisting watch-spring 
 curls, and scrolls and foliage. 
 
 It was near this square that Philip lived, down a court by the side 
 of a rag-shop, kept by the mother of Eedpole Jack, another of 
 Sparkler's boys. (Mrs. Burt gave the best price for white linen rags, 
 and a high price for kitchen fat, and the full value for* copper and 
 brass, besides letting out lodgings at threepence a night.) 
 
 Slowly but surely did Philip advance to the highest honours that 
 can befal a donkey- driver. His first promotion was being allowed 
 to drive a chaise, which conveyed four ladies to the foot of Haverstock- 
 hill. Next, he was entrusted with the care of those donkeys which 
 were hired for children, and so well did he behave himself on these 
 occasions, that eventually he was raised to the dignity of accompany- 
 ing young ladies in a delicate state of health. The tenderness with 
 which he checked all desire to trot on the part of the animals soon 
 gained for him a name among the invalids of Mask- walk and the Vale 
 of Health. Still this was not what Philip longed for. He wanted to 
 join in the exciting chase of following up some twenty young damsels 
 galloping along the road, and it was only when his grumbling was 
 slightly tinged with the abusive that Mr. Sparkler yielded to his 
 entreaties. 
 
 The night before this great advancement took place, the following 
 conversation was held between Redpole Jack and our young friend. 
 They had gone into the churchyard, not for serious contemplation, 
 but because the graves afforded a comfortable seat. And with an 
 immense yew-tree spreading out like a wing above them, the converse 
 began. 
 
 " Shall I tell you why Sparkler wouldn't let you come on the 
 'eath?" asked Jack. "Why, because you're so well clothed, and 
 those new things of yours gets him a name for having respectable 
 boys. "Why, there's nothing pays so well as sick people, and they 
 won't have any driver but is decent-looking." 
 
 " "Well, I shall be up there to-morrow, so I don't mind," answered 
 Phil. 
 
 " And a nice messing you'd a' made of it, if I hadn't seen you 
 first," continued the Redpole. " Now, look here ! S'pose you was 
 a driving old One-eye, and you wanted Jiim to gallop, what would be 
 your little game ?" 
 
 " Why, shout at him, and hit him as hard as I could — give him 
 with all my might "a good feed of ' long oats' and ' ash beans,' " an- 
 swered Phil. 
 
 This made Mr. Jack Burt sneer with disgust. 
 
 " O' coorse you would," he said. " I knowed it. That's like you 
 and your proudness, thinking you know everything. And what 
 would you get ? Why, old One-eye would stand still and kick at 
 you. I had my hand swolled dreadful through him." 
 
 " What should you do ?" asked Phil. 
 
 " Now you're coming to it," answered Master Burt. " Why, first 
 of all I should give him three or four over his 'ead to let him know 
 who I was." 
 
142 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 ""Well," asked Phil, " and after that, when he did know who you 
 
 was 
 
 ?» 
 
 ""Why, then I'd give him two or three sharp 'uns on the top o' 
 the hock to show him who Tie was." 
 
 " Go on/' said Phil—" what then ?" 
 
 " Why, then he'd git one o' my lefthanders, as should knock him 
 on one side, and another as should knock him back again, and send 
 him hopping for two or three yards." 
 
 " And what's the end of it ?" asked Phil. 
 
 " Well, for the minute," added the lecturer, " old One-eye would'nt 
 know whether he was afoot or a-horseback, but off he'd go, regular 
 spanking, first rate." 
 
 Philip's reply to his instructor consisted in reading from one of 
 the tombstones near him the following epitaph : 
 
 At morn in cheerful health he rose, 
 At noon and eve the same, 
 At night, retir'd to calm repose, 
 The awful summons came. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON THE HEATH. 
 
 It was a hot day, with so fierce a sun that every cab and cart that 
 passed along the road by the heath drove through the pond on the 
 top to freshen the horses. The gnats were flying about the donkey's 
 ears, and they — poor brutes — were most of them lying down on the 
 sandy ground, sleeping till their time of torment arrived. But though 
 it was three o'clock, and broughams had already driven up to " Jack 
 Straw's Castle," and dinners had been ordered, yet no donkey riders 
 appeared. All the proprietors were in a dreadful state of excitement 
 at the prospect of so bad a day's work, and the men in flannel jackets, 
 with their whips and sticks under their arms, were spread out along 
 the road, watching like skirmishers for any one advancing. 
 
 " I never saw anything like it," cried Mr. Sparkler, unloosing, in 
 despair, the girths of some of his stud. " Eine weather seems thrown 
 away on some people. They deserves to be drownded in rain." 
 
 " Bad doings ! bad work !" answered Mrs. Suttey, a proprietress of 
 six animals ; " we shan't get a little loaf to-day, much less a big 
 one ;" and, addressing her assistant, she added, " you'll have to go 
 without your meat to-day, Bill." 
 
 Another of the owners remarked, mournfully, 
 
 " Sorry I ain't seen my mare gallop to-day, Tobias." 
 
 " I've only had two out this morning," said Mr. Sparkler. " Old 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 143 
 
 Milkmaid and Maria Punch is gone over to Highgate, but that won't 
 pay rent." 
 
 Whilst they were lamenting their want of customers, a governess, 
 with two young ladies by her side, threw the whole of the flannel 
 jacketed crew into confusion by making signals expressive of a desire 
 to take asinine exercise. It instantly became a tussel as to who 
 should have the job, or, to use the words of the boys themselves, " it 
 was a regular scrummage for the gals." Before the imprudent fair 
 ones had advanced ten paces on to the sward, they beheld some 
 twenty men and some fifty donkeys rushing at full speed towards 
 them. 
 
 "Hi! hi! hi!" roared the drivers, urging on the galloping squa- 
 dron before them. 
 
 " Here you are, mum ! here's Lady Snuffers, the best as ever wore 
 a bridle," cried one. 
 
 "Little Everlasting Teakettle, miss, the pride of Hampstead," 
 shouted another. 
 
 " Gentleman Jerry, ladies, a real blood donkey," roard a third. 
 
 Dreadfully frightened by the terrible position they were in, feeling 
 themselves being gradually suffocated by the long-eared herd, with a 
 black-nosed donkey pushing its nose into the ribs on one side, and 
 another animal, with a cold in his head, rubbing against the mantilla 
 on the other, the three forlorn damsels allowed themselves to be lifted 
 off the ground by the first that dared to lay hands on them, and 
 before they had even time to scream they were seated in their 
 saddles and being led away. Then abuse from the disappointed fell 
 in a volley on their devoted bonnets. 
 
 " Tou ought to be ashamed of yourself, you wicked old woman," 
 howled one at the governess, " making fools of hard-working 
 people." 
 
 " You deserve to be chucked off, you young cat," snarled another 
 at one of the young ladies. 
 
 "If I was a gal I'd give you something should do you more good 
 than riding," growled a third. 
 
 And away the poor things were carried, the imaginary pleasure of 
 the ride entirely dispelled by the idea that they had unconsciously 
 done some dreadful act of injustice to the Hampstead donkey 
 keepers. 
 
 " That's a queer way of doing business," said Phil to Snorting 
 Sam. 
 
 " "Wait till Whit-Monday, and you'll see worse rigs than them," 
 answered Master Curt. 
 
 One night, as Mr. Sparkler was enjoying his pipe in his summer- 
 house, and smoking the spiders into a restless condition, his wife 
 called out to him, 
 
 " I forgot to tell you, Tobias, there's a job for to-morrow night. 
 The same party as had the pic-nic by moonlight last year called to- 
 day about hiring some donkeys for another jollification." 
 
 " Do you mean that lot o' servants as stopped out all night on the 
 
144 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Heath ? Oh, they're going on the loose again, are they ?" And 
 after laughing, he added, " And when does the spree come off?" 
 
 " To-morrow ;"and they wants the loan of a kettle, and three nice 
 donkeys for the gals to ride when so inclined. It was Mr. Boxer, 
 the footman from Tomsey, that came about it, and he says there'll be 
 a good dozen of 'em." 
 
 "To think of that, now !" exclaimed Mr. S. 
 
 " It appears their families is out of town," continued the woman, 
 " so they can manage it without being the slightest uncommodated. 
 Teddy Cuttler, Captain Crosier's groom, is to be one of the party, and 
 he's thought a deal of. They've got fiddles and all a coming." 
 
 On the following evening, just as the shades of night were stealing 
 over the Heath, a cab drew up in the road near the pond, and a stout 
 male form, fashionably attired in pumps and Berlin gloves, stepped 
 from the interior, and gazed anxiously down the road. On the roof 
 of that cab there was a hamper, and on the box beside the driver 
 there were paper parcels with grease showing through. 
 
 After the gentleman had peered about in every direction, he re- 
 turned to the vehicle, and, addressing a lady inside, said, " Nothing 
 wisible of them yet, "Wortey; but where's the hurry?" 
 
 " I know'd that Mary h'Anne of ours would be late," answered the 
 so-called "Wortey ; " she's always such a time cleaning herself, and 
 figging up with her gewgaws and fallals." 
 
 The gentleman seemed inclined to bear the delay with patience. 
 He strutted up and down, cleaning his nails, and humming airs known 
 only to himself; and whenever the voice in the cab inquired, " Do 
 you see them yet, Boxer ?" he answered, in the most cheerful of voices, 
 "Not yet, Wortey." 
 
 At length a group of ladies and gentlemen were seen creeping up 
 the hill, and instantly Mr. Boxer became excited, and commenced 
 waving his pocket-handkerchief with the utmost gallantry. 
 
 Some of the young damsels, seeing the signal, ran laughing to- 
 wards the cab, the full skirts of their light dresses swinging in the 
 wind as they scampered along. 
 
 " "What a uncommon fine-growed gal that Susannah is," observed 
 Mr. Boxer. " She's a remarkable showy dresser to be sure." 
 
 " Then she's been at missus's drawers again," snarled Mrs. 
 "Wortey. 
 
 "When the cab was surrounded, the introductions, reproaches, and 
 excuses began. 
 
 " Here we are, "Wortey, dear," cried Mary Anne. " This is Fanny 
 from No. 12, and here's Susannah and Caroline from No. 16." 
 
 " "What on h' earth's kept you so long, Mary h'Anne ?" answered 
 the surly Mrs. "Wortey. " If you'd been dressing for a h' evening 
 party you couldn't have been more time." 
 
 " It was that horrid shoemaker never sent Susannah's high-'eeled 
 home ; and she is such a fiddle," playfully observed the fair accused. 
 
 "Oh! how can you, Mary Anne," cried Susannah. "It was all 
 along of her a doing out her ringlets, and then cleaning her white 
 kid gloves with Indey-rubber." 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 145 
 
 " Have you brought the shrimps ?" asked Mrs. Wortey, in a half 
 whisper, "and the cowcumber? — there's a good girl. Where' ve you 
 put 'em ? Oh, in your pocket. Mind you don't get sitting on them, 
 there's a dear, for they're not worth a thank'ee if they're scruntched." 
 
 Every one in the party was dressed with such scrupulous cleanli- 
 ness that the stiffness of the linen seemed to impart a corresponding 
 rigidity to the behaviour. The coachman from No. 27, with his face 
 firmly fixed in his unbending shirt-collar, seemed to have lost the use 
 of his neck. Indeed, Mrs. Wortey, observing that when he wished 
 to turn his head round his body moved also, inquired of Mary Anne 
 if the man " had a carbuncle on his nape — or what ?" 
 
 Tou might have mistaken the gentlemen for noblemen's sons, for 
 their boots creaked when they walked, and their hats were shiney. 
 In the bow of their satin ties some had stuck double breast-pins, 
 whilst a big brooch ornamented the centre plait of Mr. Boxer's 
 shirt-front. Whenever they stood still, it was with an imposing 
 attitude, the hand either resting on the hip, or being thrust into the 
 coat-tail. 
 
 The ladies, in their light starched dresses and black silk mantillas, 
 looked divinely aerial. Those who had on shoes and open-worked 
 stockings, coquettishly raised their skirts to allow their feet to be 
 seen. With the hair done in ringlets — with the parasol firmly grasped 
 in one white-gloved hand, whilst the other held the pocket-handker- 
 chief ready to relieve the warm countenance — those who beheld these 
 damsels must have imagined them to be so many duchesses of the 
 land. 
 
 When Mr. Sparkler first saw the company, he mistook them for a 
 wedding-party that had dressed overnight so as not to be late in the 
 morning. 
 
 Even the cabman was dazzled by the gorgeous display of raiment ; 
 and though Mr. Boxer paid less than his fare, yet the imperious 
 manner in which that gentleman answered his grumblings, by saying, 
 " I live in 'Arley-street, No. 23, and if you don't like it, summons 
 me," completely awed the vulgar fellow into respect. 
 
 The place fixed upon for holding the pic-nic was at the lower 
 extremity of the Heath, and, the gentlemen carrying the hampers, 
 they all adjourned there. 
 
 Now came the delights of the evening. Shawls were spread over 
 the furze-bushes, so as to form tents, and some dry wood having been 
 collected, a fire was lighted to boil the kettle and supply hot water for 
 tea and grog. 
 
 The unpacking of the hampers was witnessed by all with great in- 
 terest. Nothing had been broken but a bottle of gin, which had 
 given rather an intoxicating flavour to the veal and ham pie. 
 
 "Now who on earth brought this here bit of cold lamb?" asked 
 Mrs. Wortey in disgust, as she drew forth the remainder of a 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Hush !" whispered Mary Anne. " It was Caroline ; and she says 
 she's very sorry, but it was the only thing in their larder, so she made 
 up with a pot of pickles, some lump sugar, and half a.bottle of ginger 
 
146 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " And don't No. 36 keep their butcher ? Couldn't she order some- 
 thing, I should like to know," murmured the cook ? " I've no patience 
 with such timidity. If we could run the risk for a veal and 'am pie, 
 what was to prevent her." 
 
 Mr. Sparkler and the donkeys, on one of which Phil was mounted, 
 were received with a cheer of delight from the entire party, and, flat- 
 tered by their reception, they in return rendered every possible assist- 
 ance in spreading the cloth and arranging the glasses. The moment 
 Phil saw Mrs. Wortey and Mary Anne, he recognised them. 
 
 "Why, there's the cook from where Bertha lives," he thought to 
 himself; " and blessed if that ain't the girl and the man too." 
 
 But as they did not remember his face, he was but too glad to es- 
 cape detection. 
 
 Whilst they were "eating, no behaviour could, for elegance or gen- 
 tility, have surpassed that which dignified the actions and conversation 
 of these picnicers. 
 
 " Allow me the honour of a glass of ale with you, Mrs. Wortey, 
 ma'am ?" asked Teddy Cutler. " Please pass the stone jug, Mr. Boxer. 
 Your good 'ealth, ma'am, and prosperity ekal to my best wishes 
 ma'am." 
 
 "Try another bit of this custard-pudding, my dear," said Mr. 
 Boxer, looking skittishly towards Miss Caroline ; " it won't hurt you, 
 my gal, and the dancing will shake it down. What ! haven't got 
 room for it ! Well, I'm glad you've eat hearty." 
 
 Healths were even proposed, Mr. Boxer speaking in the highest 
 terms of Mrs. Wortey, and saying, " It was an honour to live in the 
 same establishment with her, for her behaviour was, he might and 
 would say, at once conciliating, virtuous, and complesarnt." : 
 
 But the health which Miss Mary Anne undertook to give met with 
 the greatest success. It would seem that Bertha Hazlewood was not 
 a favourite with Miss Tomsey's domestics, for when Mary Anne, after 
 sarcastically stating that she was about to speak of " one whom they 
 h'all adored," added, " need I mention that my allushun is to Miss 
 Bertha;" her speech was received with shouts of laughter, in the 
 midst of which Mrs. Wortey was heard distinctly to say, 
 
 " Drat the stuck up minx, I'd Bertha her out of the house if I had 
 my way." 
 
 Philip was so startled at this singular incident, that — by mere acci- 
 dent — he let fall a glass of ale right over Miss Mary Anne's bonnet, an 
 act for which he was pursued some considerable distance by the en- 
 raged Teddy Cuttler, and narrowly escaped a severe drubbing. 
 
 Nothing could persuade Mr. Boxer to join in the dances that sub- 
 sequently took place. He had eaten so much, dear man, that he pre- 
 ferred lying down with his head resting on Mrs. Wortey's lap ; and in 
 this position he quietly smoked his pickwick, whilst she, kind soul, 
 plied him with hot gin-and-water, lifting the liquid by spoonfuls to 
 his sipping lips. 
 
 The moon was up, and shining brightly, and from under their 
 shawl-covered resting-place they could hear the music of the vigorous 
 violins, and see their companions stepping it like fashionable fairies on 
 the green sward*. 
 

 1 
 
 ^ 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 147 
 
 " That Caroline's a sweet dancer," murmured Boxer ; " and for a 
 hupper housemaid, her foot and ankle are above her station. I've 
 seen many a worse stepping into a carriage." 
 
 " It haught to be a nice one," answered the spiteful Wortey, " for 
 there's enough of it ; but if you call that a leg — I don't — posts is 
 their right name. Hopinions differ, Boxer, and I know what a leg is 
 as well as any woman who has one." 
 
 " That there Eanny, from ~No. 12," continued the gay unabashed 
 Boxer, "is a well-formed gal, but I'm afraid she pulls her figure 
 in a bit, and her hands is uncommon hot and rough." 
 
 " Lord, do ha' done, Boxer," again remonstrated Mrs. "Wortey, 
 hitting him on the nose with the spoon. " If you was the Grand 
 Serag of Turkey himself, you couldn't be more after the girls." 
 
 But Boxer heeded her not. 
 
 " What a luptious eye that gal Susannah have !" he muttered, in an 
 exhausted tone. " But her nose for a woman's is perposterious, and 
 at meals she's a gluttonous feeder." 
 
 The indignant Mrs. Wortey made no reply to this, but suddenly 
 rose from her seat and allowed the head of Boxer to fall with a dull 
 sound on the ground. It took him a quarter of an hour before he 
 could pacify the outraged lady and coax her to rest him once more in 
 her lap, and ladle gin-and-water into his mouth. 
 
 As it grew late — after many dances, when the fiddlers were tired, 
 and the donkeys had been galloped to death — the whole party assem- 
 bled in a circle to partake of further refreshment, and Bertha being 
 the person they most disliked, they once more commenced to talk of 
 her. 
 
 " What Miss Tomsey can see in her," cried Mary Anne, " a super- 
 cilious highflown squit, with her 'please do this,' and ' be so kind do 
 that' — oh, it's most comicable." 
 
 "And, after all, who is she ?" added Mrs. Wortey. " Is her pre- 
 tensions beyond her humble spear ? Has she any fortune ? I never 
 in my life see such a small box as she brought. Has she any birth ? 
 I myself hear her call a common beggar-boy ' her brother !' " 
 
 " I'm sure she has no beauty," added Mary Anne, with a sneer. 
 " If you was to take away her hair and mouth, she'd be a nice object, 
 poor thing." 
 
 " But there's some persons, perhaps, thinks she's a perfect Weners 
 de Medciny," slyly remarked Mr. Cuttler. 
 
 "La !" cried all the young ladies, " you do not mean to say that 
 you " 
 
 " Thin gals is not my choice," answered Mr. Cuttler, looking fondly 
 at the plump Mary Anne by his side. " If I liked, I could tell some- 
 thing that would make you all laugh fit to burst your laces." 
 
 " Oh, do now, won't you ?" shouted the ladies in chorus ; and some 
 of the party thought they heard the donkey boy call out, " Oh, do," 
 like the rest of them. But, on looking round, they found that Phil 
 was fast asleep. 
 
 " Well, you're very hard on me, but I must give way," fascinatingly 
 replied Mr. Cuttler. " One day, Captain Merton Crosier— my young 
 chap — was a standing at our window, and talking to Mr. Tattenham 
 
 l2 
 
148 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 and another gent, the Hon. Chanticleer Sutton by name— friends of 
 ours— and they see your Bertha. They was down on her in a 
 minute." 
 
 " You don't say so !" cried the ladies. 
 
 "Ah, they was, though. The captain says, 'Tat, I must look 
 after my neighbours a little ;' and, says Mr. Sutton, ' She's as nice a 
 little toddles as ever I see.' " 
 
 " And what then ?" they asked. 
 
 3 Well, I left the room then, you see," replied Mr. Cuttler ; " but 
 he's always at the window looking over your way, and if you keep a 
 spy on her, there'll be some fun." 
 
 In such pleasant sport did the night pass, and by the time the 
 grey morn showed in the east everybody was thoroughly tired out. 
 The plump Boxer, fuddled with gin-and-water, was carried on a 
 donkey to the nearest cab-stand, his head reclining on the shoulder of 
 the compassionate Wortey, who walked by his side, whilst ever and 
 anon he in gratitude tried to look up in her face, as he murmured 
 forth ff Dear cookey." 
 
 Susannah and the coachman from No. 27 ; Fanny and the young 
 man at the baker's; Mary Anne and Teddy Cuttler, all sauntered 
 across the fields in the direction of town, their personal appearance 
 bearing strong testimony of their having been out all night. 
 
 The next day, when the twelve o'clock postman called at Miss 
 Tomsey's with a letter, he had to knock three times, and eventually 
 the parlour-window was opened, and the epistle was taken in by a pair 
 of tongs, at the end of which was a plump arm with a red elbow, a 
 limb much resembling one to this day in the possession of Mrs. 
 Wortey. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EVERY MAN HAS HIS FANCY. 
 
 In one of the back streets near the Haymarket, there existed, in 
 the days whereof we write, a small, humble-looking public- house, well 
 known to all sporting gents and members of the prize-ring, for its 
 proprietor was no less a person than the celebrated Alf Cox, the 
 champion of the "light weights." So long as England is a sporting 
 nation, the name of Cox must be remembered with admiration, as 
 belonging to one of the most gentlemanly boxers in the profession. 
 Those who had the pleasure of being present on the occasion when he 
 fought and beat Ned Box, have never failed to declare that he was 
 the prettiest sparrer ever out, and that when he sent one of his right- 
 handers " home," it was the severest punishment ever witnessed. 
 
 The renowned Alf Cox had been prudent enough to retire from 
 the ring and all " active sporting life" while he was in the height of 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 149 
 
 his fame, and now he devoted the entire of his attentions to his 
 public-house, exerting all his " strenuous endeavours to please," and 
 holding out innumerable inducements to attract lovers of the fancy- 
 to his tavern, for, like the rest of the world, Alf Cox's fondest desire 
 of his heart was to make his fortune. 
 
 The entertainments given at the " Jolly Trainer" were of the 
 most varied description. On Monday evenings there was a galaxy 
 of sport in the shape of sparring, at which such glories of the pugi- 
 listic world as the Clapham Smasher and the Hackney Crasher as- 
 sisted. The great match between the Southwark Pounder and 
 Tripey Paggits was got up at his house, and the men showed there 
 publicly the night before the battle It was well known to his 
 friends that Alf Cox was a great advocate for reviving " Old times" — 
 indeed, his circular says as much. He would, too, in his printed 
 cards invite the lovers of song to meet their " social brethren" at his 
 house, on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and on such occasions 
 that public favourite Mr. Thomas Timms presided, assisted by a host 
 of talented friends. These musical treats were, as Alf Cox said, 
 " open to all, he ever catering," the only return expected from the 
 visitors being, that they would drink as rapidly and as largely as they 
 could. To make use of the noble lines printed in large type over the 
 bills wafered up in the tavern-window, the especial mission that Alf 
 Cox had marked out for himself was the Eeunion of old Friends and 
 the Fancy generally ; Harmony ! Conviviality ! ! and Good-fellow- 
 ship ! ! ! — Refreshments moderate, and of the best quality. 
 
 A favourite hobby with Alf Cox was the improvement of the breed 
 of dogs, and he was reckoned among the dealers to be as good a 
 judge of what a dog was, or ought to be, as any man in the metro- 
 polis. Moreover, he was the founder and chairman of the West-end 
 Spaniel, Terrier, small Bulldog, Bull-Terrier, and Toy-dog Club, and 
 a meeting of the members was held every A¥ednesday in his public 
 parlour, when any other fancier was also invited to attend and ex- 
 hibit. On such occasions the glass circulated merrily, and the waiter 
 w r as ever in the room to receive the gentlemen's orders, whilst the 
 most interesting discussions were held as to the excellence of this 
 terrier's strain, or the points in that bull's build. 
 
 But of sports, that for which Alf Cox was more especially re- 
 nowned was his public ratting, which came off every Tuesday evening 
 at his "public hostelrie." He said that the reason why he gave away 
 silver snuffboxes as prizes, " to be killed for by novice dogs of any 
 weight," was because he was determined to encourage the useful and 
 good sport of destroying that destructive vermin the rat ; but we fancy 
 lie must have had some other motive, for such excessive devotion to 
 the public welfare would, in the end, have entailed certain ruin ; and 
 no publican, however enthusiastic, could have afforded to indulge in 
 such expensive antipathies. 
 
 Mr. Alf Cox had caused two hundred handbills to be printed and 
 distributed amongst his friends and patrons, and they caused the 
 greatest excitement among all earnest supporters of the fancy. In 
 these handbills he announced that a "great hundred rat match" was 
 
150 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 to come off, and all the grocers, barbers, and tailors in the neighbour- 
 hood were already discussing the chances the different dogs had of 
 winning the silver collar that was to be "killed for." This great 
 match, too, was, according to the handbill, by " distinguished desire," 
 and many were the pots of beer emptied at the bar of " The Jolly 
 Trainer," in the hopes of discovering who was to be the patron of 
 the evening. 
 
 " It's no good asking me, Mr. Noakes," replied Mrs. Cox to her 
 constant customer, the cab proprietor ; " but I'll tell you this much, 
 Viscount Ascot and Lord Oakes are as fond of sport as any man I 
 ever see of their weight and size." 
 
 "When the important evening arrived, the open space before the 
 long bar of " The Jolly Trainer" was, long before the performances 
 were to take place, crowded with customers, who were all drinking, 
 smoking, and talking about the match. Most of them had brought 
 dogs w T ith them, so that a kind of canine exhibition was going on. 
 Some carried under their arm small bulldogs, whose flat, pink noses 
 rubbed against the arm as you passed; others had skye-terriers, 
 curled up into balls of hair, and sleeping like children, as they were 
 nursed by their owners. The only animals that seemed awake, and 
 under continual excitement, were the little brown English terriers, 
 who, despite the dandy brass-ringed leather collars by which they 
 were held, struggled to get loose, as if they smelt the rats in the 
 room above, and were impatient to begin biting their foes. 
 
 There was a business-like look about this tavern which at once let 
 you into the character of the person who owned it. In establishing 
 it, the drinking seemed to have been only a secondary notion, for it 
 was without any of those adornments which are generally considered 
 so necessary to render a public-house attractive. 
 
 The ceiling was low and bulging, and the flies had speckled it into 
 a granite colour, whilst the tubs in which the spirits were kept were 
 as dirty as water-butts, and blistered with the heat of the gas — even 
 the once gilt-hoops had turned black as shoe-ribbon. Sleeping on an 
 old hall-chair reclined an enormous white bulldog, " a great beauty," 
 as many of the drinkers observed, with a head as round and smooth 
 as a clenched boxing-glove, and seemingly too large for the body. 
 Its forehead seemed to protrude in a manner significant of water on 
 the brain, and almost overhung the small nose, from which it breathed 
 heavily. It was a white dog, with a sore look, from its being pecu- 
 liarly pink about the eyes, nose, and, indeed, at all the edges of its 
 body. 
 
 On the other side of the bar was a bull-terrier dog, with a black 
 patch over the eye, which gave him rather a disreputable look. This 
 gentleman was watching the movements of the customers in front, and, 
 occasionally, when the entrance-door swung back, would give a 
 growl of inquiry as to what the fresh-comer wanted. Mr. Alf Cox 
 was kind enough to inform a particular friend of his, who was 
 patting the fork-like ribs of the brute, that he considered there had 
 been a little of the greyhound in some of his back generations. 
 
 As the hour advanced, the visitors arrived in such numbers, that 
 Mrs. Cox, finding that her appeals to the gentlemen not to block up 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 151 
 
 the bar were of no use, was obliged to get her husband to address the 
 multitude in a neat speech. 
 
 " My good friends," he cried, mounting a chair, "there's as nice 
 and comfortable a parlour as ever was used, if you'd only step that 
 way. Though I'm fond of seeing handsome faces about me, yet I'm 
 too busy now for such enjoyment." 
 
 Then did the laughing crowd make for the green-baize door of the 
 parlour, headed by a waiter shoutiug out, " Give your orders, gentle- 
 men!" 
 
 Like all other parts of this establishment, no pains had been taken 
 to render this parlour attractive to the customers, for, beyond the sport- 
 ing pictures hung against the dingy paper, it was devoid of all adorn- 
 ment. Over the fireplace were square pigeon-hole boxes, containing 
 the stuffed heads of dogs famous in their day. Pre-eminent among 
 the prints was that representing that wonder among rat-killing dogs, 
 Mr. Cox's Tiny, five pounds and a half in weight, " as he appeared 
 killing two hundred rats." 
 
 " He was the 'andsomest little thing as ever entered a pit," Mr. 
 Alf would say, "and in honour of his performance — which is un- 
 ekalled in annals— I had that engraving printed on white silk, which 
 you see before you. Poor Tiny ! they don't make 'em like him now. 
 He wore my missus's gold bracelet as a collar, such was his propor- 
 tions." 
 
 Among the stuffed heads was one of a white bulldog, with tre- 
 mendous glass eyes sticking out as if it had died of strangulation. 
 Young Mr. Cox — Alf's eldest — was kind enough, whenever he saw 
 any stranger examining the canine mausoleum, to offer up a tribute 
 to the memory of the departed favourites. " They've spoilt her in 
 stuffing — made her so short in the head — but she was the greatest 
 beauty of her day. There w r asn't a dog in England as dared look her 
 in the face. There's her daughter," he would add, pointing to another 
 head, something like that of a seal, " but she wasn't reckoned half as 
 handsome as her mother, though very few could show agin her, 
 especially for form. That is a dog," he would continue, directing his 
 finger to one represented with a rat in its mouth — " that was the best 
 in England, though it was so small a quart pot might be its kennel. 
 I've seen her kill a dozen rats almost as big as herself, though they 
 killed her at last, for sewer rats are dreadful for giving a dog canker 
 in the mouth, however much you may rinse the mouth out with 
 peppermint-and- water." 
 
 The company assembled consisted of sporting men, or those who, 
 from curiosity, had come to witness what a rat-match was like. 
 Seated at the same table were, talking together, those dressed in the 
 costermonger's suit of corduroy, soldiers with their uniforms carelessly 
 unbuttoned, coachmen in their livery, and tradesmen who had slipped 
 on their evening frock-coats, and run out from the shop to see the 
 sport. . 
 
 The room seemed full of dogs. They were standing on the different 
 tables, or tied to the legs of chairs, or crouching under forms, or 
 sleeping in their owners' arms. Each animal in its turn was minutely 
 
la 
 
 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 criticised, the limbs being stretched out as if feeling for fractures, and 
 their mouths looked into as if a dentist were examining their teeth. 
 Nearly all .the dogs were marked with scars from bites. " Pity to 
 bring him up to rat-killing," said one who had been admiring a fierce- 
 looking bull-terrier ; and although he did not indicate what line in 
 life the brute ought to pursue, still everybody understood that 
 " fighting " was the occupation referred to. 
 
 Mr. Cox had taken " the chair," and installed himself as head man 
 of the meeting. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," he cried, after he had lighted his pipe, " give 
 your minds up to drinking. Do just as you would at home, and get 
 drunk as soon as you like." 
 
 The laughter which followed this neat address set all the dogs 
 barking. 
 
 "Silence, dogs! order, little dogs!" shouted Mr. Alf; "I'm 
 ashamed of you !" After a time he asked, " Has anybody got a Skye 
 pup he's tired of?" 
 
 "Don't believe him," answered one of the men; "he's only a 
 kidding of us. If you says you have, he'll tell you to go and eat it 
 for your supper or somethink." 
 
 Mr. Alf Cox, far from feeling displeased at this attack upon his 
 character, began to titter, and merely said, " Well, you are a good 
 'un for a tale, uncommon." 
 
 "I say, Alf, when are you going to begin?" asked somebody in 
 the room. 
 
 " I'm only waiting, my dear friend, for these here swells. Can't 
 be long now." And, ringing the bell, he made inquiries of his first- 
 born, which ended by Mr. Cox suddenly vacating the chair ; for, as 
 he told the company, with a wink, " his distinguished patronage was 
 in the bar-parlour, and his missus making love to them." 
 
 In the dingy little back-parlour, which was the ex-prize-fighter's 
 sanctum, sat the noble patrons of the ratting-match. They hatl come 
 there more out of curiosity than any love of the sport ; indeed, it was 
 Captain Merton Crosier who had tempted them to witness the per- 
 formance. There was Yiscount Ascot lolling on the horsehair sofa, 
 smoking a cigar as big as a desk ruler, and watching Mrs. Cox, who 
 was preparing some brandy- and-water for his cousin, Lord Oaks. 
 
 They had brought with them a French officer (he had lately arrived 
 in England with letters of introduction to Captain Merton Crosier, 
 in which le Colonel Victor Baudin Eattaplan, du ll e L6ger, was 
 spoken of as one of the braves of Algeria), and at that moment the 
 foreigner and the captain were engaged in a discussion on dogs, to 
 which Fred Tattenham, Tom Oxendon, and the Hon. Chanticleer 
 Sutton — the remainder of the distinguished patronage — were listen- 
 ing with considerable delight. 
 
 The colonel, who spoke English almost fluently, had related an 
 anecdote of a friend of his who had endeavoured to give a fashionable 
 appearance to his " bouledog Anglais " by having it shaved like a 
 poodle. 
 
 The sports of the evening were naturally enough made to await the 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 153 
 
 leisure of such noble guests. It was in vaiu that the company in 
 the parlour stamped on the floor and rang the bell. Even when 
 Jack Pike, the celebrated rat-catcher, was sent to the bar to make 
 inquiries, it did not advance matters, for the ambassador, being re- 
 cognised by Captain Merton Crosier, was instantly had into the room, 
 and ordered to assist Alf Cox in emptying a quart pot of champagne, 
 as well as to amuse the noble company by some of his vermin-destroy- 
 ing experiences. 
 
 Before such honourable society Alf Cox put on his best behaviour. 
 He saw in a moment that the " cap'en" was only asking him ques- 
 tions that he might show off before his friends. 
 
 When Jack Pike was seated, the conversation was taken up at 
 the point where it had been interrupted. 
 
 ""Well, cap'en," said Alf, in answer to a question put by that 
 gallant officer, " I should think I buy in the course of the year, on an 
 average, from three hundred to seven hundred rats a week. I've 
 had as many as two thousand rats in this very house — ah, that I 
 have ! — at one time. Eat a sack of barley meal a week they would." 
 
 "I suppose they fight each other like fury?" suggested the 
 captain. 
 
 " Well, my esteemed friend, if I didn't feed 'em they'd get uncom- 
 mon ill-behaved," answered Mr. Cox. "They'll eat each other like 
 rabbits — so vicious is their propensities — for I've watched 'em ; and 
 when they've done devouring their companions, they turns the dead 
 'uns' skins inside out as neat as purses, and polish the flesh off 
 beautiful clean." 
 
 " Where the devil do you get them from ?" asked the Honourable 
 Chanticleer Sutton. 
 
 " Get them from, my good friend? It's a regular trade, bless you," 
 cried Mr. Cox. " I should think I have twenty farmmerlies depend- 
 ing on me, and I suppose I have hundreds of thousands of rats sent 
 me in iron cages fitted into baskets. They don't make a bad thing of 
 it neither. I paid a man five guineas only yesterday for thirty-five 
 dozen, at threepence ahead. Catching them is dangerous work, take 
 my word for it." 
 
 " Do you mean the bites?" nervously suggested Viscount Ascot. 
 
 " You see, my esteemed friends, there's a wonderful deal of dif- 
 ference in the specie of rat," explained the landlord. " The bite of 
 the sewer and water-ditch rat is, I can assure you, very nasty, for 
 they live on filth. Now Mr. Barn rat is a plump fellow, and live on 
 the best of everythink, and he ain't so poisonous. Sewer rats is 
 shocking for dogs." 
 
 " You may say that, and for men too," cried Jack Pike. " I was 
 once, gentlemen, bit on the muscle of the arm, and I shall never for- 
 get it if I live twenty thousand year. It turned me queer all of a 
 sudden, and made me feel upheaving, and there I was kept in bed 
 for two months, and my arm swole, and went as heavy as a ton 
 weight pretty well." 
 
 " Curse 'em, it's true," cried Captain Merton Crosier, looking at 
 Lord Oaks, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable, lest any acci- 
 
154 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 dent should happen to him during the match. " What dithguthting 
 beaths," lisped his lordship. 
 
 " Oh, I've been bit by 'em hundreds o' times," continued Jack 
 Pike ; " it's a three-cornered bite, like a leech's, only deeper, of course, 
 for it goes right to the bone, just as if you had been stuck with a pen- 
 knife. And the quantity of blood that comes away, dear ! dear ! The 
 best thing I ever found for a bite was the bottoms of a porter-cask as 
 a poultice." 
 
 "It's all gammon," exclaimed Tom Oxendon. " I've seen fellows 
 handle them as coolly as possible." 
 
 " Ay, and I've handled many a hundred," said Jack Pike, calmly ; 
 "but they don't bite the less for all that. Look here, and here," he 
 added, showing some scars on his hands. " Bight through this thumb- 
 nail, too, yet Alf Cox has seen me handle 'em, hav'n't you, Alf?" 
 
 " That I have, my noble friends," replied the landlord, " and much 
 do I admire your nerve, Jack. "Why, I've seen him put rats inside 
 his shirt next his bosom, and into his coat, and breeches-pockets, and 
 on his shoulder — in fact, anywhere. He let 'em run up his arm while 
 he was stroking their backs and playing with 'em. Would you like to 
 see him do it, my esteemed friends ?" 
 
 " No, hang it, not here. Make a fellow sick," cried the patrons ; 
 on which le Colonel Eattaplan, seeing that there was a fair oppor- 
 tunity for showing off, pretended to be much grieved at the timidity 
 of his companion, and said something about un brave not being alarmed 
 by une pauvre bete. 
 
 " The most dreadfullest, spitefullest rat I know of is the snake- 
 headed rat, as we calls it, gents," observed Jack Pike, who, during 
 the silence, had been taking a long pull at the champagne-pot. 
 
 " So it is, my friend, a very ugly customer," said Mr. Alf Cox, in 
 corroboration. 
 
 " They are what we calls the blood rat, gentlemen," continued 
 Jack ; " and I give you my word, I've known 'em attack children 
 asleep in their cot, and gnaw their little hands and feet." 
 
 " How could you tell that rats did it ?" asked Viscount Ascot. 
 
 " Because, your honour," he replied, " I traced the blood which 
 their tails had trailed through the openings in the lath and plaster. 
 Ah, what two pretty little children them was — uncommon handsome. 
 Whenever they see me now, they says, ' Oh, here's Eatty, ma !' ' : 
 
 " I can't sthand thith any longer," said Lord Oaks. " Itth enough 
 to make you ill." 
 
 And, despite the assertions of le Colonel Victor Baudin Eattaplan 
 that it "woss meare shild's play talk," the whole body of the patrons 
 rose from their seats, and whilst Mr. Cox returned to the parlour to 
 make his peace with the crowd, the " distinguished desire" was con- 
 ducted to the room above, where the pit had been erected for the 
 purposes of the match. 
 
 To avoid all reproaches, Mr. Cox, as he entered, cried out, as if 
 addressing somebody, " Let me know directly the shutters is closed 
 in the room above, and the pit lighted up." This announcement 
 seemed to raise the spirits of the impatient assembly, and even the 
 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 155 
 
 dogs tied to the legs of the tables ran out to the length of their 
 leathern thongs, and their tails curled like eels, as if they under- 
 stood the meaning of the words. 
 
 But although pacified, the customers were surly at the delay. So 
 the cunning Mr. Cox had to win their esteem once more, by noticing 
 their dogs. "Why, that's the little champion," said he, patting a 
 bull-terrier, with thighs like a grasshopper, whose mouth opened 
 back to its ears. " Well, it is a beauty ! I wish I could gammon 
 you to take a fiver for it." Then, looking round the room, he 
 added : " Well, gentlemen, I'm glad to see you do look so com- 
 fortable." 
 
 At last word was brought that all was ready, and instantly a rush 
 was made to the door, which caused dogs to yell and growl, and men 
 to swear and curse. In a few moments all the customers were 
 mounting the broad wooden staircase, which led to what was once 
 the drawing-rooms, and having dropped their shillings into the hand 
 of the doorkeeper, entered the rat-killing apartment. 
 
 What was called the pit looked like a small circus, some six feet 
 in diameter, about as large as a centre flower-bed, with strong 
 wooden sides, reaching to elbew height. Over it the branches of a 
 gas-lamp were arranged, which lit up the white painted floor and 
 every part of the little arena. On one side was a recess in the room, 
 which the proprietor calls his "private box," and this apartment 
 the noble patrons had taken possession of, whilst the audience 
 clambered into convenient places upon the tables and forms, or hung 
 over the sides of the pit. All the little dogs which the visitors had 
 brought up with them, the moment they saw the pit, began to squeal 
 and bark, struggling in their masters' arms as if they were tho- 
 roughly acquainted with the programme of the evening's sport ; and 
 when a rusty wire cage of rats, filled with the grey moving mass, was 
 brought forward, the noise of the dogs was so great that Mr. Cox 
 was obliged to shout out, " Now, you that have dogs, do make 'em 
 shut up, or take 'em out of the room." 
 
 The captain was the first to jump into the pit. A man wanted to 
 sell him a bull-terrier, spotted like a fancy rabbit, and a dozen rats 
 was the consequent order. The captain, to show off before his 
 friends, insisted upon pulling the rats out of the cage himself, laying 
 hold of them by their tails and jerking them into the arena. He was 
 cautioned by Mr. Cox, with great tenderness of manner, to desist, 
 lest any of the brutes should bite him, for, " Believe me," were 
 the words, " you'll never forget it ; these here rats are none of the 
 cleanest." 
 
 Whilst the rats were being counted out, those that had been 
 jerked into the arena innocently amused themselves by sniffing 
 about the white-painted floor, little knowing the fate that awaited 
 them. Sometimes one of the poor doomed brutes would cause great 
 merriment by running up the captain's trousers, making that gallant 
 officer shake his leg vigorously as he exclaimed, " Gret out, you var- 
 mint !" Miserable little wretches! some of them were even sitting 
 on their hind paws cleaning their faces. 
 
156 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 "When the dog that was to massacre this dozen was brought into 
 the room and saw the rats, he grew excited, and stretched himself 
 out straight in his owner's arms like a Gothic water-spout, whilst all 
 the other animals in the apartment burst into a full chorus of whining. 
 " Chuck him in," cried the captain ; and over went the dog, and in a 
 second the rats were running round the circus, or trying to hide 
 themselves between the small openings in the sideboards. 
 
 Although Mr. Alf Cox, who was very intimate with the owner of 
 the spotted terrier, endeavoured to speak up for the dog, by declaring 
 " it was a good 'un, and a very pretty performer," still it was evi- 
 dently not much worth in a rat-killing sense. If it had not been for 
 his " backer," as the youth who accompanied the terrier into the 
 arena was called — if this boy had not beaten the sides of the pit with 
 his hand, and shouted "Hi! hi! at 'em !" in a most bewildering 
 manner, it was very doubtful if the terrier would not, as far as he 
 was concerned, have preferred leaving his antagonists to themselves 
 to enjoy their lives. Some of the rats, when he advanced towards 
 them, sprang up like balls in his face, making him draw back with 
 astonishment. Others, as he bit them, curled round in his mouth 
 and fastened on his nose, so that he had to carry them as a cat does its 
 kittens. It also required many shouts of "Drop it — dead 'un," 
 before he would leave those he had killed. 
 
 We have never been able to ascertain from Captain Merton Crosier 
 whether he eventually bought the dog ; but from its owner's saying, 
 in a kind of apologising tone, " Why, he never saw a rat before in all 
 his life," we fancy no dealings took place. 
 
 The captain seemed very anxious to afford his friends as much 
 sport as he could before the grand match came off, for he frequently 
 asked those who carried dogs in their arms whether " his little 'un 
 would kill," and seemed angry when such answers were given as 
 " His mouth's a little out of order," or " I've only tried him at very 
 small 'uns." 
 
 "Here, let my young 'un have a sniff at the dead 'uns," said 
 a coachman, who had a rough-haired little terrier under his arm. 
 As soon as the animal was in the pit, it seized hold of a carcase 
 almost as big as itself, shaking it furiously, till it thumped the floor 
 like beating a tambourine. A shout of laughter burst from the 
 audience, and Alf Cox, looking at the coachman, said patronisingly, 
 
 " I say, Mews, he's a good 'un at heads and tails, ain't he ?" 
 
 Preparations now began for the grand match of the evening. The 
 bodies of the rats slaughtered in the last match were gathered up by 
 their tails like so many candles, and flung into a corner. The arena 
 was swept clean, and a boy sent down stairs with orders to tell Tom 
 to bring up " that basket which had the rats picked for the match 
 — the one that came from Enfield ditches." 
 
 During this delay in the performance, the following dialogue took 
 place between Viscount Ascot and Ered Tattenham. 
 
 "Who the devil's that French fellow?" asked the nobleman, 
 nodding with his head in the direction of le Colonel Victor Baudin 
 Eattaplan, du 11° Leger. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 157 
 
 " I don't know," answered Tattenham ; u he's a friend of Crosier's. 
 I never saw him before." 
 
 u Hang me if I like the fellow's face at all. It has a kind of hang- 
 dog look about it. Don't you think so ?" 
 
 "It strikes me I'ye seen him before, but I don't know where," re- 
 plied Fred Tattenham. " He speaks English very well for a French- 
 man. Didn't you hear him saying, ' Gk> it, you cripple ?' That 
 doesn't sound as if it was his first visit to England, does it ?" 
 
 "I don't like him at all," continued the Viscount. " Has Merton 
 spoken about him ?" 
 
 " Why, Crosier's as much puzzled as we are," was the reply. "I'm 
 told he brought excellent introductions with him, and, what is 
 : stranger than all, he seems to have known a good deal about Merton' s 
 v family affairs — at least so he told me." 
 
 This conversation was put an end to by the entrance of men carry- 
 ing a big flat basket, like those in which chickens are brought to 
 market, but it had a wire work top, under which were moving mounds 
 of closely-packed rats. 
 
 An attempt was made among the lookers-on to do a little betting, 
 but nobody seeming inclined to " make a book," the pugilistic land- 
 lord cried out that, for the sake of sport, he would make a wager, and 
 straightway offered to lay his eldest son a bottle of lemonade on the 
 match, stipulating, however, that he should have first drink ; and 
 he added, "As your mother says you take after me in a' most every- 
 thing, you shall take after me in lemonade. Tou won't drownd in 
 what I leave, I can tell you." 
 
 Of all the sights of the evening, the one which most seemed to 
 astonish the noble patrons was the daring manner in w^hich Mr. Alf 
 Cox's first-born introduced his hand into the basket of rats, some- 
 times keeping it there for more than a minute at a time as he fumbled 
 about and stirred up with his fingers the living mass, picking out, as 
 he had been requested, " only the big 'uns." 
 
 When the one hundred animals had been flung into the pit, they 
 gathered themselves together into a mound, which reached one-third 
 up the sides, and reminded one of the heap of hair-sweepings in a 
 barber's shop after a heavy day's cutting. They w r ere all sewer and 
 water-ditch rats, and the smell that rose from them resembled in 
 offensiveness that from a hot drain. 
 
 Captain Merton Crosier was immensely excited by these prepara- 
 tions. He amused himself by flicking at the rats with his scented 
 pocket-handkerchief. For the fun of the thing, he offered the little 
 brutes the lighted end of his cigar, which they ran up to and tamely 
 sniffed at, and then convulsed the company by the droll manner in 
 which they drew back after singeing their noses. It was also a 
 favourite amusement of the captain — who was allowed to do anything 
 he chose — to blow on the grey pyramid of rats, and so much did they 
 dislike the cold wind, that it completely broke up their gatherings, 
 and sent them fluttering about like so many feathers ; indeed, whilst 
 the match was going on, whenever the little animals collected together 
 and formed a round mass, into which the dog dare not force its nose, 
 
158 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the cry of "Blow on 'em ! blow on 'em !" was given by the specta- 
 tors, and the dog's backer puffed at the rats as vigorously as if he 
 were extinguishing a fire, and away they darted like so many sparks. 
 
 The company was kept waiting so long for the match to begin that 
 the impatient captain at last threatened to leave the house, and was 
 only quieted by the proprietor's reply of " My dear friend, be easy, 
 the lad's on the stairs with the dog." 
 
 True enough, a noise of wheezing and screaming was heard in the 
 passage without, as if some strong- winded animal were being strangled, 
 and presently a boy entered, carrying in his arms a bull-terrier in a 
 perfect fit of excitement, foaming at the mouth, and stretching its 
 neck forward, so that the collar which held it back seemed to be cut- 
 ting its throat in two. It was nearly mad with rage, scratching and 
 struggling to get loose. 
 
 " Lay hold a little closer up to the head, or he'll turn round and 
 nip yer," cried Alf Cox, in tenderness, to his son. 
 
 "Whilst the gasping dog was* fastened up in a corner to writhe its 
 impatience away, inquiries were made for a stop-watch, and also for 
 an umpire to decide, as it was comically observed by Mr. Cox, 
 " whether the rats were dead or alive when they're killed, as Paddy 
 says." 
 
 When all the arrangements had been made, the second and the dog 
 jumped into the pit, and after allowing the terrier to " see 'em a bit," 
 he was let loose. 
 
 The moment he was free, he became quiet, and in a most business- 
 like manner rushed at the rats, burying his nose in the mound of fur, 
 snapping and snuffling until he brought out one in his mouth. In a 
 short time a dozen rats, [with necks wetted by the terrier's mouth, 
 were lying bleeding on the floor, and the white paint of the pit 
 became grained with blood, as if hens had been scratching about 
 on a wet red flooring, or a painter had been imitating some crimson- 
 veined wood. 
 
 Everything was proceeding very pleasantly for the dog, when a 
 rat, more bold than the rest, fastened on to its nose, and, despite his 
 tossing, still held on dangling there. In vain the terrier dashed the 
 pendant rat against the sides, for, though it left a patch of blood, as 
 if a strawberry had been stuck there, still it clung to the snout. 
 
 " He doesn't squeal, that's one good thing, but he looks rare and 
 silly over it," said one of the lookers-on. 
 
 " He's lost forty-two seconds by that ornament on his snout," 
 cried the timekeeper, when this brave rat had at last been shaken 
 off and killed. 
 
 When any of the hundred fell on their sides after a bite, they 
 were collected together in the centre, where they lay quivering in 
 their death-gasps. 
 
 "Hi, Butcher! hi, Butcher!" shouted the second. "Good dog! 
 Hurr-r-r-r-h !" and he beat the sides of the pit, like a drum, till the 
 dog flew about with new life. 
 
 " Dead 'un — drop it !" he howled, when the terrier" nosed" a rat 
 kicking on the floor, as it slowly expired of its broken back. 
 
^ 
 J 
 
 I 
 
 s 
 
 y 
 

PAVED WITH GOLD. 159 
 
 When four out of the eight minutes allowed for the match had 
 expired, " Time !" was called out, and the dog was seized by the 
 backer, and forced to repose itself. 
 
 Panting, as if it bad been running miles, with its neck stretcbed 
 out like a serpent's, it remained staring intently at the wounded rats 
 which crawled about the floor. 
 
 The poor little wretches that had as yet escaped, as if forgetting 
 their danger now their enemy was held back, again commenced 
 cleaning themselves, some nibbling the ends of their tails, others 
 hopping about, going close up to the legs of the lad in the pit, smell- 
 ing at his trousers, or advancing, sniffing, to within a few paces of 
 their executioner, the dog. 
 
 The conduct of le Colonel Victor Baudin Eattaplan du 11° Leger 
 was, whilst this match was going on, in the highest degree remarkable. 
 "With every rat the dog killed he seemed to grow more and more ex- 
 cited, beating the pit sides with the backer, and laughing louder than 
 any one in the room. 
 
 Strange to say, too, he suddenly began to speak English with almost 
 a pure accent ; indeed, if he had been born in the metropolis itself, 
 the pronunciation could not have been much better or clearer. 
 
 " Good dog ! at 'em ! pitch into 'em ! hi, hi ! bite their d — d 
 heads off! hah! hah! hah!" cried le Colonel Victor Baudin Eatta- 
 plan, urging on the terrier. 
 
 Even Mr. Cox was startled by the Frenchman's sudden improve- 
 ment, for he urbanely remarked to him : 
 
 " Very good, mounseer — you tree hong. Learn very well here, 
 good lesson — see kill rat." And, turning to his other noble patrons, 
 he added : " You must bring the mounseer here again, my esteemed 
 friends, and by — — , after three ratting matches, he'll speak -like a 
 Member of Parliament." 
 
 The French officer, who at first had seemed slightly agitated by Mr. 
 Alf Cox's remarks, soon recovered himself, and, indeed, joined with 
 great good-humour in the laugh which had been raised against him. 
 
 " Qu'il est drole ce Corx," he remarked to Viscount Ascot ; but the 
 nobleman either paid no attention to the observation, or else was 
 rather deaf. 
 
 During the pause which now took place in the proceedings, the 
 gentlemen were again requested by the landlord to " give their minds 
 up to drinking." 
 
 " You know the love I have for everybody here, and that I don't 
 care a cus for any of you," jocosely remarked Alf Cox, though there 
 was more truth in the observation than many fancied. 
 
 "Any other gentleman like to have N a few rats ?" asked the first- 
 born, whilst he was gathering up the halfpence which had been 
 thrown into the pit as a reward for his exertions in backing the 
 dog. 
 
 " Let's have a dozen," cried a man, who spoke as if he had been 
 struggling to resist the temptation, but could not. Another batch 
 of rats and another bull-terrier were thrown into the pit. This dog 
 did his work so well — cracking the necks of the rats like so many 
 
160 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 walnuts— that the admiration of the spectators was focussed upon 
 him. 
 
 "Ah," said the owner, " he'd do better at a hundred than twelve, 
 I know ;" whilst another, hanging over the pit, observed, " Eat 
 killing's his little game, I can see ;" and Mr. Cox himself, in his ad- 
 miration, cried out, " She's a very pretty performer, and though not 
 my own dog, and no ways interested, I'd back her to kill against any- 
 body's at eight and a half, or nine." 
 
 It was nearly twelve o'clock when the noble patrons rose to depart. 
 There were a good many persons on the staircase as they went down, 
 and a little pushing took place, despite all that Mr. Cox could do to 
 prevent his esteemed friends being in any way annoyed. 
 
 They parted outside the door, the Viscount and Fred Tattenham 
 going one way, and the remainder of the party directing their steps 
 towards the Hay market, it being their intention to treat le Colonel 
 Victor Baudin Battaplan to a night on town. 
 
 "When Viscount Ascot reached his club, he found, on searching for 
 his purse to pay the cab, that his money was gone. 
 
 "It's a good haul, too, for the fellow that's got it," he said, "for 
 there were thirty odd pounds in it, and I never bother myself about 
 the numbers of notes. It's a nuisance to lose so much though, isn't 
 it ? There was a blank unsigned cheque in one of the pockets, but 
 that doesn't matter so much." 
 
 " I'd give notice to the Bank about it, all the same," suggested 
 Fred Tattenham. " It might be filled up for you." ' 
 
 As they were going up the steps the Viscount stopped suddenly, 
 and taking hold of his companion's arm, said, earnestly, " Do you 
 know, I half suspect that French colonel of the robbery. I can't be 
 certain, on account of the pushing on the stairs, but I remember he 
 kept very close to me as we came down." 
 
 "Confound him!" replied Tattenham. "I have my suspicions 
 too." 
 
 What these ended in, remains to be told. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 161 
 
 CHAPTEE X, 
 
 FRIENDS ARRIVE. 
 
 One day, whilst the boys were waiting for a turn to go out with a 
 job, Mr. Sparkler, casting his eye over the heath, saw a young woman, 
 whom he instantly recognised as the maid- servant from Madame de 
 Blanchard's establishment for young ladies, advancing in the direc- 
 tion of the donkey-stands. Being a thoroughly business man, and 
 knowing that such orders were generally very excellent and exten- 
 sive, Mr. Sparkler did not think it beneath his dignity to play the 
 part of touter, but hurried forward to meet the young woman with a 
 rapidity which showed that he was rather nervous lest anybody else 
 should snatch the chance from him. 
 
 The reason of Mr. Sparkler's sudden departure was soon discovered 
 by his brother proprietors, and as they were all well acquainted with 
 the girl from the school, a pang of jealousy passed through all their 
 hearts, and the quiet of the heath was disturbed by angry voices. 
 In the heat of the moment, masters began to strike their boys for not 
 being on the look-out, and boys to squeal and abuse their masters for 
 taking the law into their own hands. All Mr. Sparkler's movements 
 were watched with the greatest interest. He was seen to touch his 
 hat with great politeness to the girl, and it was concluded, from his 
 respectful demeanour, that the expense of a first-rate job formed the 
 subject of conversation. 
 
 " It's a good thirty donkeys at least," cried one owner, shaking 
 his whip at his boy, who had retired to a safe distance. 
 
 It was in vain that preparations were set on foot to try and cut 
 the ground from under Mr. Sparkler, for the herd of animals 
 hurried off towards the servant had scarcely been roused into a trot, 
 before Mr. Sparkler was seen returning, his countenance so beaming 
 with inward satisfaction, that the four-legged deputation was ordered 
 back again, it being evident that every arrangement had been con- 
 cluded, and the job secured. 
 
 The Hampstead donkey-masters, although they will fight amongst 
 themselves for a sixpenny ride, and seem influenced by feelings of the 
 deepest hatred when any business is on foot, are, nevertheless, an 
 amiable and accommodating race of men, assisting each other on 
 half-profits with the greatest cheerfulness w r hen an order of any 
 magnitude has to be executed. Hence, when Mr. Sparkler rejoined 
 his friends with the announcement that eighteen donkeys were 
 wanted at the ladies' school by one o'clock, he found no difficulty in 
 securing long-eared steeds to that number. 
 
 " Here, you Phil, you'll have to be one to go along with this lot," 
 said Mr. Sparkler, beginning his preparations ; " and mind old Indy 
 
162 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Rubber is for the governess, for she's a mortal fine woman, and takes 
 a deal of carrying, so the gal telled me," 
 
 For at least half an hour every hand in Mr. Sparkler's employ- 
 ment was hard at work, tidying up and arranging saddles, so as to 
 make the cavalcade look as respectable as possible. The patronage 
 of the ladies' schools in the neighbourhood was very much sought 
 after, for although the prices given were not high, still the orders 
 were extensive, and came at a time in the day when business was ex- 
 tremely slack. All the time that Mr. Sparkler was adorning his 
 steeds, by hiding the ends of straps, stuffing straw under the saddles, 
 or arranging the linen covering so as to hide, as much as possible, 
 the faulty condition of his harness, he continued giving his directions 
 to Phil. 
 
 "Put one o' the young 'uns on Laura Smith," he said, "she's 
 very tender on the back ; and keep your eye on Bobtail, or he'll be up 
 to kicking, and breaking some of their necks, if he have a chance. 
 And, Phil, mind you be particular civil to the girls' missus, and don't 
 let's hear of your being up to your larks, getting any of the young 
 'uns chucked off. You'd better let old One Eye go alongside of Crazy- 
 Jane, or she'll be a lying down in the road, or some other wicious- 
 ness." And as he spoke of the bad-hearted One Eye, he tapped her 
 smartly on the shoulder with his stick, to show that he disapproved 
 of her general behaviour. " Mind, too, Phil," he continued, " they're 
 only out for two hours, and don't you go running their legs off, and 
 knocking them up for their afternoon's work." 
 
 Eighteen handsome donkeys, accompanied by five sluiced and 
 combed boys, drew up, as the clock struck one, before the iron gates 
 of Madame de Blanchard's establishment. The effect was very im- 
 posing, and everybody who passed stopped to admire the gaily attired 
 stud, and to glance at the windows, where the young ladies, with 
 their bonnets on, were impatiently peeping over the blinds, and gazing 
 wistfully on the donkeys. The establishment gained great glory that 
 day, and many were the praises uttered about the great affection 
 Madame felt for her pupils, and her motherly treatment of them. 
 
 Presently the doors of the academy opened, and out marched the 
 young damsels, trying, by screwing up their little lips to the size of 
 cherries, to look as serious as they could in the presence of their gover- 
 ness, but every part of the face was laughing except the mouth. These 
 attempts at solemnity were nearly choking some of the little misses, 
 and making their faces as pink as rose-leaves. All the young ladies 
 were dressed in their best clothes, and looked very prim and pretty, 
 with their smooth hair so neatly dressed and tucked behind the ears 
 that it seemed a sad pity to derange it with galloping. Their little 
 collars and cuffs, too, were so brilliantly white it was sorrowful to 
 think how soon the dust would soil them. 
 
 As they stood in the front garden — the prettiest flowers there, be 
 it understood — the governess said there was a great deal too much 
 chattering ; and we are sorry to have to relate that a little pushing 
 and quarrelling occurred whilst the young ladies were being placed in 
 their saddles. One Miss Wagbird — a terrible, wicked girl, as the 
 mistress called her — was ordered to write out " Do not push !" one 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 163 
 
 hundred times, in play hours, for disorderly conduct. Then one 
 Miss Clara Marsh had to be severely reprimanded, and threatened 
 with being sent back, for taking a violent prejudice against the 
 Duke of Brunswick, whom she declared to be a dusty thing, with 
 a sore on its back. Another young lady — Miss Twining, who wore 
 her hair down her back, and had dimples under her eyes — was rated 
 for her affectation in pretending to be nervous when Sam Curt was 
 helping her on to the saddle ; and, worse than all, she showed some 
 temper, asserting that she couldn't help it, for it tickled. Yet the 
 governess preferred believing Master Curt's explanation of "It's her 
 skin's so creepy, ma'am. It itches in a moment." 
 
 The governess — a fine, tall, thin woman, but inclined to wither — ■ 
 endeavoured to govern the young ladies in a half-military fashion, 
 calling out their names in succession when it came to their turn to 
 mount. There was a great deal of confusion caused by some of the 
 little misses putting the wrong foot in the stirrup, and a great deal 
 of time was wasted in fidgeting about in the saddle to get comfortable, 
 and in altering straps which were either too long or too short. If the 
 mistress had not been a woman of great nerve she would never have 
 been able to preserve order among her pupils. Cries of " Adone, 
 Mary!" or, " Let me alone, Tilda!" evinced the unsettled condition 
 of some of the scholars' minds. Others would grumble because their 
 donkey was the worst of the lot, or because its knees were broken ; 
 and one even took a strong prejudice against her steed because sbe 
 said its eyes were full of flies. 
 
 " Miss Smith, I'm ashamed of you ! "What are" you about, Miss 
 Collis ? Pull the other rein directly — where are you going to ? Ar- 
 range your dress, for goodness' sake, Miss Trelaw T ny ; and take your 
 parasol out of that donkey's ear, Miss Simpson." 
 
 There was one young lady — she could not have been older than 
 fourteen — who caused more disturbance than all the school put toge- 
 ther. Somehow or other, whenever Philip was about to lift her on 
 the saddle, the donkey was sure to hop out of the way ; and as all the 
 other young ladies laughed, it certainly did appear as if it was no 
 accident. 
 
 " Kick that patient animal again, Miss Crosier, and you shall be 
 sent back," at last called out the governess. 
 
 What made the pupil's conduct look very black indeed was, that 
 the very next attempt after this threat the young damsel was jumped 
 on to the back with as little trouble as a circus -rider. 
 
 "When the cavalcade was mounted, the governess, with much dig- 
 nity, took her seat on India Eubber ; and whilst she was doing so, it 
 was painful to hear the tittering which crackled among the pupils. 
 She must have heard it, poor lady, for she blushed a deep cinnamon 
 colour. 
 
 Philip could not take his eyes off this Miss Crosier, for he had re- 
 cognised in her the little girl who one day, when he was seated under 
 the avenue by the heath side, had called him " ce sal pettit garsong- 
 la." He did not know what the words meant, but he had a half- 
 notion that they were slightly complimentary, and had been spoken 
 in pity. Once he asked Swinging Fred what " ce sal pettit garsong- 
 
 M 2 
 
164 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 la" meant, but Mr. Jackson, being unacquainted with the French 
 language, had replied that he could not "tumble to it," and that it 
 was a " regular jawbreaker." So, as he was unable to obtain a trans- 
 lation, Phil contented himself with his own notions on the subject, 
 and felt convinced that the little lady was commiseratiug with his 
 forlorn lot, and very thankful he felt for her sympathy. 
 
 She had a wicked, pretty little face, that would have made any 
 body like her. It is very difficult to say whether her eyes left off 
 laughing even when she was asleep, and how she ever managed to 
 close them, with all those lashes about the lid, must be guessed at. 
 She had the strange power, too, of working her eyebrows about, as a 
 horse does its ears ; and if a fly happened to settle on her forehead, 
 or her hair got out of its place, she would frown like the Saracen's 
 Head on Ludgate-hill, though the next moment the semicircles were 
 back on her forehead again, and very lovely to look at. The last time 
 she returned home from the holidays her mamma wrote a letter to 
 Madame de Blanchard requesting that Helen might never be permitted 
 to go out in the sun without some covering to protect her skin ; and 
 nobody who has seen the pretty child could object to such a precau- 
 tion, for her complexion is so clear that you can see the blue veins on 
 her temples as distinctly as if she had traced them with cobalt, and 
 even now there are some half-dozen golden spangles of freckles, 
 where the sun has caught her, on the top of her little nose, where 
 the skin is extremely delicate and sparkles like a lily-leaf. 
 
 The cavalcade moved along so slowly that this Miss Crosier did 
 nothing but grumble at the pace, and ask Emma Twining, who was 
 next her, " When that old thing" — meaning, we are sorry to say, the 
 governess — " was going to let them gallop ?" She was evidently 
 a very rebellious young damsel, and far from settled in her mind. 
 "Whenever the mistress called out, " Throw your shoulders back, 
 Miss Crosier, you're stooping dreadfully," the wicked child, far from 
 feeling grateful for the kind reproof, as we should, only shook herself, 
 and pouted, and her eyebrows moved about so rapidly with frowning, 
 that it seemed as if they would never become round again. 
 
 The cavalcade was going along very prettily, all the pupils holding 
 themselves delightfully upright, and looking very solemn and lady- 
 like, with the mistress in the rear, keeping a strict eye over them to 
 see that there was no talking whilst they were passing through the 
 town. But what did Miss Crosier care for the governess ? She was 
 determined not to hold her tongue for anybody, but would speak as 
 much as she liked, and to whom she liked. Now, Emma Twining 
 was a much better-behaved young lady, and when the insurrectionary 
 Helen whispered any question, the only reply she received was, 
 " Don't— she's looking," or, "Don't — she'll hear us," or some such 
 nervous repulse. 
 
 So Helen called Emma " a disagreeable thing," and determined, as 
 there was nobody else to chat with, she would talk to the donkey-boy, 
 Phil. But first of all, with a cunning far beyond her years, she 
 warned the lad not to look at her when he answered her questions, 
 but to keep his head straight in front of him, so that the mistress 
 might suspect nothing. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 165 
 
 " What's your name, boy ?" she asked. 
 
 " Philip Merton, miss," was the reply. 
 
 On hearing this she gave a laugh, which made the governess call 
 out, " Pray be more steady, Miss Crosier !" but she didn't seem to 
 attend in the slightest degree to the warning, but continued the 
 conversation. 
 
 " Merton !" she said, in an astonished tone ; " la ! what a curious 
 thing ! my brother's name is Merton. I wonder if you're a rela- 
 tion ?" and as she felt she must laugh, she pushed her bonnet-strings 
 into her mouth. After a moment, she added: "Where do your 
 parents live, boy?" 
 
 " My mother's dead — the heavens be ber bed !" was the sad reply. 
 " I never saw my father, and I don't know where he is." 
 
 The pretty maid was sorrowful when she heard this answer. As 
 if she was comparing the happiness of her lot with the misery of his, 
 sbe said: 
 
 " Both my papa and mamma are alive. I have a brother, beside, 
 who is an officer in the army." 
 
 Another cry of, " No talking, Miss Crosier," came from the go- 
 verness. 
 
 After a moment, when she thought the governess's suspicions were 
 allayed, the simple child asked, " Shouldn't you like to see your 
 father?" 
 
 The boy, forgetting the warning she had given him, looked up in 
 her face, and answered sorrowfully, " I would walk miles even to see 
 where he was buried, if I knowed the spot. I have been told he was 
 a gentleman, but even if he was the poorest man living, I'd crawl on 
 my hands and knees — ay, hundreds of miles — if I knowed wbere to see 
 bis face." 
 
 Here the conversation dropped, for Helen, who was a gentle- 
 hearted girl for all her laughing, seeing with what earnestness Philip 
 had spoken, began to upbraid herself for having unconsciously 
 wounded his feelings. When she heard Emma Twining sigh and 
 mutter, in her rich, soft voice, " Poor boy !" Helen took it as a rebuke 
 for her thoughtlessness, and whispered back, excusingly, " I did not 
 mean to hurt him, dear." 
 
 The dreams and fancies that used to fill the lad's mind even when 
 he was a mere infant at the pauper school — the strange ideas to 
 which he had often, as he lay on the grass with his face turned up to 
 the clouds, sought to give shape and truthfulness, again came rising 
 to his brain. He seemed to have forgotten that anybody was near 
 him, and walked along in a kind of somnambulic condition, talking to 
 himself aloud : " They never would tell me anything about her ; no, 
 not even nurse wouldn't. If she was a lady, as that Miss Perriman 
 said she was, where was the harm of my knowing it ? Of course I 
 ought to know. They ought to tell me everything. I can't even see 
 her when I want to, because they wouldn't tell me what she was like. 
 I dream of Sam Curt and a lot of others, but I can't dream of her, 
 and all through them." 
 
 Por the next few moments not a fault had the mistress to find with 
 Miss Merton's behaviour, for the little donkey-boy's soliloquy had 
 
166 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 frightened her into silence. The first to renew the conversation was 
 Philip. One of the animals stumbled, and called him back to himself 
 again. He was a singular, fitful youth ; in tears one second, and 
 laughing the next. Directly he saw the little ladies' faces, he seemed 
 to wake up from his dreams ; he even thought it was an excellent 
 opportunity for obtaining a translation of the French words the little 
 lady had spoken about him, so, half turning round, he said, " I've seen 
 you before, and you called me a ' sal pettit garsong-la.' "What does 
 that mean?" 
 
 At first Miss Helen blushed as scarlet as her brother's brightest 
 regimentals, and then she began to shake with laughter, so that Emma 
 was obliged to think of the mistress, and say to her, " Oh ! don't, 
 there's a dear!" 
 
 "When she had partially recovered from her excitement, she felt em- 
 barrassed as to what answer to give. She did not dare to tell Philip 
 to his face that she had called him a dirty little boy ; it would be 
 much kinder, she thought, to deceive him by telling a fib, and, 
 looking him full in the face, she replied, with the greatest sang-froid, 
 " It means, * "What a handsome young man that is.' " 
 
 JSTow it was Philip's turn to look silly, and feel uncomfortable, 
 whilst Emma Twining was so astounded at her friend's duplicity, 
 that she began to splutter with giggling, whilst her cheeks puffed 
 out, and her eyes puckered up, in endeavouring to restrain her 
 mirth. 
 
 Then came the terrible voice of the governess again, "Miss 
 Twining, copy out ' I must not laugh,' fifty times, when you get 
 home, and as for you, Miss Crosier, I shall report you." 
 
 Poor Emma began to tremble like a mariner's compass, and once 
 again did the other wicked child shake herself as if she was trying to 
 slip out of her clothes, and the eyebrows bobbed up and down into 
 all manner of shapes. 
 
 "The nasty old thing!" said the bad girl, "I wish that donkey 
 would kick up behind and throw her off, that I do." 
 
 Being close to her side, Philip heard her wish, and so anxious was 
 he to do something in return for the complimentary " ce sal pettit gar- 
 song-la," that he turned round and said, " I could make old Indy 
 Bubber, wot she's riding of, kick in a minute, if I choosed." 
 
 "Can you?" was the quick reply; "mind she doesn't see you 
 talking to us. I'll give you a penny if you'll make old India Bubber 
 kick." 
 
 " I don't want your pennies," said Phil, indignantly. "I'll do it 
 for nothing, for you" 
 
 ""Well, look here, boy," continued the little tempter; "my pa's 
 coming to see me on Thursday next, and I'll make him hire you to 
 give me a ride ; only mind and bump her well." 
 
 This was enough for Philip, and pleased him better than all the 
 pennies in the Bank of England. So he dropped behind, and allowed 
 the cavalcade to pass until he was near the mistress, and under the 
 pretence of asking which way they were to go, he kept by her side, 
 waiting for his opportunity to torment her. He well knew that one 
 of India Bubber's peculiarities was extreme irritability whenever any- 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 167 
 
 body placed the hand on her backbone. She could bear a good deal 
 of flogging without evincing much restlessness, but the moment she 
 felt a pressure behind the saddle, she became frisky and gay, and 
 spitefully lively in her demeanour. 
 
 The poor governess could not imagine what had come to her 
 hitherto docile steed. She felt herself raised up behind as suddenly 
 as if she had been lifted by a wave, and bumped forward several 
 times in succession — a sensation somewhat resembling that of being 
 churned. India Eubber was lashing her tail about, and throwing her 
 legs vigorously in all directions. 
 
 " Go away, boy, it's you frightening her, n cried the lady, in alarm ; 
 but Phil remained, protesting his innocence, and at the same time 
 pinching India Eubber harder and harder, until at length the enraged 
 animal threw up its heels with as much violence as if it were going 
 to turn a somersault, and the lady, being totally unprepared for this 
 evolution, was propelled forward with the velocity of a champagne 
 cork, although her progress through the air was fortunately checked 
 by the stirrup, which forced her back again to her seat with the jerk 
 of a lasso. The dignified, upright position which had hitherto distin- 
 guished her deportment in the saddle vanished entirely, for her body 
 fell down like a lid over the animal's neck, and for a few seconds she 
 remained in an attitude similar to that which Johnny Gilpin is sup- 
 posed to have assumed when passing through Edmonton. 
 
 All the young ladies heard their mistress call out, " Oh, take me 
 off this donkey! take me off! oh, oh, oh!" And as they turned 
 round, and saw her clinging to the pommel, the mirth and enjoyment 
 they were trying to conceal came gurgling up to their little mouths. 
 It is a painful portion of our duty to be obliged to state that Miss 
 Crosier so enjoyed the scene, that her head fell back on her shoulders, 
 and the only sound that came from her open mouth was one which 
 resembled that produced by a person whilst using a gargle. At length 
 her full throat began to work like that of a canary in song, making 
 her bonnet-strings tremble as her laughter streamed up, and then 
 such a flood of rich, melodious chuckles gushed forth, that she must 
 have been heard a mile off, and made everybody within that distance 
 cachinnate from sympathy. 
 
 The expression of the countenance of the governess, as she heard 
 the wicked Helen's bursts of delight, was sublime from contempt 
 and fearful with anger, and the remarkable vigour which she threw 
 into the words, " Miss Crosier, write out one hundred times, * I 
 should not laugh at the misfortunes of others,' " ought to have made 
 that young lady sink to the ground with shame and contrition. 
 
 The most melancholy result of this revengeful proceeding was that 
 the governess insisted upon quitting the back of India Eubber, and 
 as she was forced to proceed at a walking pace, she issued an order 
 that all the young ladies should follow her example. So much to 
 Miss Helen's disappointment, all hopes of a gallop were dispelled. 
 
 " Never mind, miss," said Phil, consoling her, " w r ait till Thursday, 
 and then I'll give you such a run as shall make you stiff for months 
 to come." 
 
168 TAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Eor two or three days after this memorable academic expedition, 
 Philip was so wrapt in thought that his bearing towards his com- 
 panions seemed haughty and distant, and in retaliation it was resolved 
 the nickname of "my nobs" should henceforth be conferred upon 
 him. Whenever he appeared on the heath the boys used to grin 
 at him, and shout out "my nobs," in full chorus. He did all he 
 could to try and convince his friends that he was not proud, but 
 pensive ; yet he met with no success. He tried to silence their evil 
 tongues by lending them money, but though they were civil enough 
 until the monetary transaction was completed, yet no sooner had the 
 coin changed hands than once more he became "my nobs." Even 
 sharing his food with his enemies did not soften their hearts. 
 
 If Phil was thoughtful and abstracted, and did not talk and mingle 
 with the other boys as he had formerly done, it was not, as they 
 thought, because he had suddenly given way to pride, but for a 
 far deeper reason. "What on earth was a poor donkey-boy to be 
 proud of? 
 
 He was continually thinking over the words little Helen Crosier 
 had spoken. He would say to himself, "What a curious thing 
 that her brother's name should be Merton as well as mine ! She 
 said she wondered if I was a relation, but she was only laughing at 
 me. Yet everybody used to say my mother had been a lady. Only 
 fancy if we was actually relations!" And this idea would torment 
 him until it monopolised all his time and thought. 
 
 Perhaps whilst he was in the midst of his aspiring meditations, 
 the other lads would gather round him and begin taunting "my 
 nobs" for having withdrawn from their society, and as he had made 
 no secret of the supposed respectability of his parents, they never 
 failed to allude with the bitterest sarcasm they were capable of to the 
 subject of his illustrious descent. 
 
 He and the other boys were one afternoon bathing in the pond by 
 the Kilburn fields, when a direct set upon Phil was made by the 
 satirical young rogues. Nothing was addressed directly to him, but it 
 was evident that he was intended to hear all that was said. He 
 clenched his teeth together very tightly as he heard one ask " Whether 
 it was true that ' nob's' father had once been King of England before 
 he took to keeping an oyster - stall ?" and his muscles tightened 
 when another replied, as soon as the laughter had subsided, " I've 
 heard * my nob's' mother was a heiress, and married the dandy dogs'- 
 meat man." 
 
 In despair of being able to put an end to these annoyances by any 
 pacific means, Philip uttered the tremendous threat that " The very 
 next person who insulted him should receive such a drubbing as 
 should ensure civility for years to come." Now donkey-boys are 
 notoriously brave, and will never allow anything like intimidation. 
 The consequence was, that Phil had scarcely spoken his big words 
 before Bill Kurney, one of Slopman's boys, shouted back in defiance, 
 " If you want to fight, ' my nobs,' here's for you," and into the 
 water he leapt. 
 
 Now began the horrors of war. First they skirmished about, 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 169 
 
 splashing each other with water, until at last the savage Mertou 
 waded towards his opponent with clenched fists, whilst the deter- 
 mined Kurney, daring to the last, hissed and shouted out, " My 
 nobs !" as if he was singing his war-song. They" ducked each other 
 unmercifully, wrestling as well as their wet arms would let them. 
 Sometimes they held each other's heads under water until the bub- 
 bles of their breath came to the surface as rapidly as the gas in soda 
 water. Then, black in the face, and panting, they would rise to 
 wipe the moisture from their eyes, and prepare for another tussle. 
 Philip's rage made him stubborn, and gained him the victory, for 
 though he was sometimes nearly suffocated, he would give no signs 
 of his discomfiture, whilst Kurney no sooner found himself over- 
 whelmed by difficulties than he roared out at the top of his voice, 
 " Murder, murder, help ! I'm getting drownded !" 
 
 At last it was determined by the lookers-on that the scene of the 
 combat should be changed from the water to the dry land, and both 
 combatants, who had apparently had enough of the nautical engage- 
 ment, willingly assented to the proposal. "Whilst the boys were 
 slipping on their clothes, Jack Burt remarked to a friend of his, " I 
 never saw two such hard ones ; Phil's as tough as cow beef." 
 
 " Yes," joined in Snorting Sam, " but if Kurney holds his head up 
 I don't believe he'll get the worst of it now." Sam Curt never did 
 like Phil much. Perhaps he was a little jealous of him. 
 
 Whilst the boys were dressing, they continued crowing at each 
 other like a couple of game cocks, threatening to inflict all sorts of 
 injuries. "Whilst menacing each other, they adopted the slang in 
 fashion among donkey -boys, so that their threats, though very fearful 
 to their understanding, had rather a comic meaning to the uninitiated. 
 
 Philip intimating that, as soon as he had put on his trousers, he would 
 blacken Pill's eyes, roared out, " Wait till I've togged my ' round-the- 
 houses,' and then I'll cook your * mince-pies' for you." 
 
 To this Kurney retorted, " I'll have yer down on ' the last card of 
 your pack' as soon as I've laced my ' German flutes' " — meaning 
 thereby that when his hoots were arranged he would throw Philip 
 on his back. 
 
 " You won't know your ' lump o' lead' when I've finished with 
 you," cried Merton, referring to his antagonist's head. 
 
 " I'll smash your ' glass case,' and damage your ' north and south/ " 
 roared Bill, referring to the face and mouth of his opponent. 
 
 In this curious language did they defy each other, speaking of the 
 jaw as a "jackdaw," calling an arm a "five-acre farm," and terming 
 a nose an "I suppose," and in fact never making use of the word 
 they intended, but employing in its stead some expression which 
 rhymed with it. 
 
 When the young urchins did begin to fight, they had a very terri- 
 ble set-to, and hurt each other as much as ever they could, but it 
 happened most providentially that their limbs were not so powerful 
 as tbeir rage, or they must have knocked each other to atoms. 
 Whilst they were sparring up to each other, Phil would cry out, 
 passionately, " My mother married a dandy dogs' -meat man, did she ?" 
 
170 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 or, " My fattier was King of England, was he ?" and then rush head 
 first at his enemy, who, determined not to be intimidated, would growl 
 back in defiance, " Yes, 'my nobs, 5 that's the exact state of things." 
 
 They fought long enough, however, for each of them to discover 
 that they were very well matched, and for the future it would be 
 more prudent to remain friends instead of foes. So Phil allowed Mr. 
 Kurney from that day to call him, behind his back, "My nobs," and 
 never afterwards was Bill heard to threaten young Merton either 
 with "punching his lump of lead," or "throwing out his five-acre 
 farm," or " stopping Phil's jackdaw with a crack on his north and 
 south." 
 
 You may be sure that Phil never forgot the promise the little 
 school-girl made him. When Thursday came, he seated himself on 
 the wooden railings near Jack Straw's Castle, and he passed the 
 morning as contentedly as a parrot on its perch. He listened for the 
 roll of carriage wheels, and kept his eyes moving in every direction so 
 as to be the first to discover when a certain pink muslin dress should 
 come fluttering down the road. He was in a dreadful state of anxiety 
 lest any other boy should speak to her before him. 
 
 Many times when a carriage passed did he rush into the road and, 
 at the peril of getting run over, peep into the comfortable interior, 
 hoping to catch sight of the little lady's bright face. He had made 
 up his mind that her papa must keep an equipage, for he had noticed 
 that Miss Helen was the only girl in the school who had a gold watch 
 and chain. His greatest fear was, that he should be ordered out with 
 any donkeys, and so miss the damsel. He let Sam Curt go out three 
 times running, and although it was a good sixpence out of his pocket, 
 yet he never thought of that, but was only glad to shuffle the job off 
 to some one else. 
 
 "I don't know why I should like her," he thought. " She ain't 
 half so pretty as Bertha, for her eyes is always laughing and making 
 fun, but sister's has such a fond look in them, they wouldn't frighten 
 a bird away. I suppose it's because she said something about my 
 being a relation, though she was only larking." 
 
 The afternoon was passing rapidly, and yet he was still on the look- 
 out, though he was getting rather tired and impatient at being made 
 a fool of, as he called it. Several times he had complained to a brick 
 wall close by, asking the solid masonry, " Why did she say she was 
 coming if she wasn't ?" Often and often he would run to have a look at 
 the hotel clock, making up his mind he would give her a quarter of an 
 hour longer, and if she didn't come by that time there was an end of 
 the matter. He was, indeed, so doubtful about seeing her, that he 
 had even tossed up some halfpence to see how his luck stood, but the 
 hope was so strong within him that, although he lost five times out of 
 six, he philosophically refused to believe in that method of divina- 
 tion. 
 
 At length, just as he was on the verge of despair, and had raised 
 his closed fist preparatory to uttering some dreadful imprecation on 
 the bonnet of the unconscious school-girl, he heard a voice close to 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 171 
 
 him, which made him jump off his rail with the vigour of a grass- 
 hopper. 
 
 "This is the little boy with the same name as yours, Merton," 
 cried Helen, the owner of the voice. " How do you do, little Mer- 
 ton ? I've Drought big Merton to see you." And then she began to 
 laugh and nod her head alternately to Phil and a tall young gentle- 
 man, with a dropping moustache, who had fixed his glass in his eye 
 and was examining his namesake. He did not seem pleased with the 
 inspection, for he said nothing, but let his glass fall, and then moved 
 his brows about as if he was getting them right again after frowning. 
 
 It was evident that the old gentleman with the tawny, unbleached 
 face, that seemed hard as if it had been carved in bees' -wax, was Miss 
 Helen's papa, for she held his long thin hand in hers, and seemed 
 very happy to be by his side. This old gentleman, although he was 
 trying to smile, looked very severe, for his features were not flexible, but 
 seemed tough and hard as saddle leather, and his expression was more 
 as if he had a nasty taste in his mouth than anything else. His cold 
 eyes, with wrinkles starting in every direction like the cracks in 
 starred glass, made Phil feel uncomfortable when they looked at him. 
 The boy, too, could not help noticing the gentleman seemed to have 
 lost his lips, for there was no red edging to the mouth, but it closed 
 as a slit in an orange would. He was dressed in black, and was 
 solemn and heavy as a hulk, with just one dab of white, like a port- 
 hole, where the shirt showed above the waistcoat. Indeed, Phil half 
 wished that this old gentleman had not come with his little daughter. 
 
 " So this is the little fellow, is it ?" said papa. " Come, sir, you 
 must be kind enough to let us have your best donkey, to give this 
 young lady a ride." 
 
 " Then, if you'll take my word for it, have Light Heart, the best as 
 ever carried a saddle," answered Phil, starting off to fetch the vaunted 
 animal. 
 
 The big Merton laughed affectedly at the little Merton's earnest 
 manner. He was a very handsome young fellow, despite a certain 
 languid expression, which gave you an idea that he was ready for bed- 
 time. The keys of a piano were not more regular than his teeth, and 
 his nose was as aquiline as a ratchet cut. As for whiskers, his were 
 so bushy birds might have built in them, and on his chin was a tuft 
 nearly as big as a rabbit's tail. He was not dressed in black, but 
 wore a shawl-patterned waistcoat, and his blue coat was thrown back 
 over his shoulders as open as folding- doors. He seemed very mildly 
 happy, and proud of being able to keep his eye-glass fastened under 
 his eyebrow, though it gave him somewhat the appearance of an owl 
 blind of one eye. 
 
 There was a third gentleman present, who was evidently a French- 
 man, for whenever he addressed the big Merton he called him " Mon 
 eher Mareton," and gesticulated like a preacher. He had shaved off 
 his whiskers, but you could still trace their shape by a bluish granu- 
 lar stain. His heavy moustache had been clipped over his mouth as 
 regularly as thatch over a cottage window, and he had the faculty of 
 laughing instantaneously and stopping as quickly. One or two 
 
172 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 donkey-boys, who were watching him, were astounded at the size of 
 his ears, which stood out like handles on each side of his cleanly- 
 shaved face. In his moments of polite merriment, his round, smooth 
 countenance became dimpled and nobbed by the forcing up of the 
 cheeks. Whoever his tailor was, he understood the art of cutting 
 trousers, though his coat fitted his plump body too much like a pud- 
 ding-bag, and Phil at one time thought he wore stays. 
 
 This foreign gentleman also seemed to be very good-natured, for 
 
 when Eedpoll Jack recommended him to have a donkey as well as 
 
 the young lady, he laughed till he had to wipe his forehead, and told 
 
 Helen that her friends the boys were " des gamins and tres droles, 
 
 and wanted to make a donkey of him, he should think, ha ! ha IV 
 
 ( He made one observation, which was very curious. He pointed 
 
 out to his friends that Phil's face was not at all like that of an Eng- 
 
 / lish boy's, for the features were too round and formed, and in fact re- 
 
 ( sembled those of the children in his own country. He even went so 
 
 far as to ask the lad whether either of his parents was an Stranger. 
 
 There is no sensation more annoying than feeling certain you have 
 seen a face before, and yet being unable to call to mind the w r hen and 
 the where. Philip was turning over all the leaves in his memory, 
 endeavouring to satisfy himself where he had seen the big Merton 
 before. He remembered the face as distinctly as he did the statue at 
 Charing-cross. Later in the day the mystery was cleared up, and in 
 the languid youth Phil recognised one of the officers who, one night 
 in the Haymarket, when he (Phil) was a crossing-sweeper, had or- 
 dered the Duck to throw mud at Nurse Hazlewood. 
 
 " I wish I dare send a stone at him," thought little Merton. . 
 
 They strolled along as far as Highgate, chatting and talking toge- 
 ther, papa never addressing the Trench gentleman without a great 
 show of courtesy, and pompously calling him Monsieur le Colonel 
 (only he pronounced it Mussu). The foreign officer also behaved 
 with excessive politeness, and whenever he spoke to the languid 
 youth, called him " mon ami Mareton," or " mon cher capitaine." 
 Indeed, it was truly delightful to witness the glossy elegance of 
 manner all the gentlemen displayed. Even laughing little Helen 
 herself felt awed by their imposing conduct, for as she afterwards 
 told Emma Twining, it was like being in school again. It did 
 not make much impression on Phil though, but he walked quietly 
 along, leading the donkey, and never opened his mouth unless it was 
 to check symptoms of frivolity on the part of Light Heart by such 
 exclamations as " No, you don't, you hussey !" or " Steady, you 
 warmint !" to bring her back to a sense of her servitude. 
 
 Presently the old gentleman, who was apparently fond of inquiring 
 into the condition of the lower orders, asked Phil, in a condescend- 
 ingly kind tone of voice, such questions as " How many donkeys hia 
 master had, and how much the boys made at the business ?" He also 
 called the boy " his young friend." 
 
 He listened with the greatest attention as Phil replied : 
 
 " Well, there's eleven masters altogether, and mine — which is 
 Sparker by name — has got six donkeys, and one on 'em he wouldn't 
 take 4J. for. He had another first-rater as we called Lord Cocktail, 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 173 
 
 but she was drowned last winter in the Vale of Health — got on the 
 ice under the hedge for warmth, and the thaw came, and in she went, 
 and then the frost came again, and regular potted her. He gave over 
 3£. for her, for donkeys is wonderful scarce. You can't look at one 
 under fifty shillings. As for what he earns," he continued, remem- 
 bering the second portion of the question, " that's according to what 
 we brings home. If it's a good day, we get maybe three shillings, 
 or if it's a bad one, only eighteenpence, per'aps ; but we depends most 
 upon -what gentlefolks give us," he added, giving the old gentleman a 
 strong hint. 
 
 " And I hope you're a good boy, and don't use bad language, but 
 go to church regularly, eh ?" continued Mr. Crosier, senior. 
 
 Philip, who every Sunday had to fetch an old lady home in a Bath 
 chair when divine service was over, answered without hesitation that 
 he never missed attending church unless it was very wet, which, of 
 course, was perfectly true. The quarrels he had lately had with his 
 companions seemed to have greatly influenced the description he gave 
 of the deplorable and benighted condition of the other donkey-boys. 
 He was evidently avenging himself by slandering them. 
 
 " They never goes near a church," said Phil, " unless it's to play at 
 ' chuck and toss' on the tombstones ; and there's one boy, of ^the 
 name of Bill Kurney, he's got the awfullest foul mouth for swearing 
 you ever came near. You'd wonder his teeth wasn't blighted and 
 turned black in his head with the words he uses. You shall hear him 
 when we get back." 
 
 If Captain Merton Crosier had been by himself, he would have been 
 sure to burst out laughing at this last speech, but the stern-looking 
 father evidently was a great restraint on the son's conduct, and as 
 Mr. Merton, senior, was muttering, " This is sad, very sad," Mr. 
 Merton, junior, thought it more prudent to appear deeply afflicted by 
 the terrible account. 
 
 " Never use bad language, my young friend," said the papa, ex- 
 hort ingly. 
 
 " 1 never do, sir, only to the donkeys," answered Phil, putting on a 
 look of innocence. 
 
 " But why swear at all?" urged the kind gentleman. "You will 
 tell me that it gives force to your language. You will say that it 
 ensures obedience through fear ; but since it is only the sound of your 
 voice, and not the words, that these animals obey, what need is there 
 for you to blaspheme when a shout would answer as well ? Do you 
 understand, my young friend ?" 
 
 Here the little lady, coming to Phil's defence, said, 
 
 " You mustn't scold him, papa. Eemember, I told you he never 
 had any parents to watch over him." 
 
 Everybody stared at Phil with curiosity. The French officer ap- 
 peared quite overcome with sympathy, and cried out, " Pauvre mou- 
 tard !" and the English one looked knowing, as if he suspected that 
 the boy had been gammoning his sister. The solemn Mr. Crosier, senior, 
 shook his head, and asked, 
 
 " Are both your parents dead ?" 
 
 "My mother's dead," replied Phil. " She went away before I can 
 
174 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 remember her ; but perhaps my father's alive — though it wouldn't 
 matter, as far as I am concerned, for he never seems to have cared 
 much about me, or else, why did he leave a fellar ?" 
 
 "Did he desert your mother?" inquired Captain Merton Crosier. 
 
 " I don't know if he deserted her, because she died," continued 
 Phil ; "but he seems to have left me to take pot-luck." 
 
 "Quel scelerat !" exclaimed the French colonel, looking the picture 
 of indignation — as if he would like to punish the villain. " Now, 
 with us in France, such a similar thing is impossible. Our system 
 of passports, however you Anglais grumble at them, prevent such 
 affairs." 
 
 " And was your father called Merton ?" inquired the old gentleman. 
 
 Phil answered, "I don't know about that. I'm called Philip 
 Merton, and Katherine Merton was the name my mother went by — 
 so Nurse Hazlewood told me." 
 
 " Katherine Merton !" he cried, with a tone of surprise. Then, in a 
 more quiet voice he added, " And who is Nurse Hazlewood, my little 
 man?" 
 
 For a moment the boy hesitated, as if ashamed to reply ; but at 
 length, a3 if he had conquered any feeling of pride, he answered, 
 
 " I ought to call her mother ; and I used to when I was young, for 
 she was as good and kind to me as she was to her own child. But if 
 you want to know who she was, she was nurse at the workhouse 
 where I was sent, and it was she as told me my mother was a lady." 
 
 There was no reason on earth why the solemn old gentleman should 
 have suddenly become so excited, and anxious to learn more of the 
 history of this boy. Over and over again did he ask, " And are 
 you sure, my young friend, you cannot remember your father's 
 name ?" And although Philip answered, " I tell you I never knowed 
 him," until he was tired by the monotony of the reply, yet Mr. Crosier, 
 senior, seemed unwilling to drop the subject, so often begging of the 
 boy to try and remember, that at last little Helen, not understanding 
 what such questionings could lead to, turned round laughing to her 
 father to tease him for his curiosity. Then she saw that his face was 
 pale, and his eye unnaturally brilliant with excitement, and involun- 
 tarily she cried out, 
 
 " What is the matter, papa ? Are you ill ? You are so dreadfully 
 pale ! Merton, dear, make him sit down." 
 
 The solemn papa did not like to be stared at and pitied. He said 
 it was all nonsense, and, forcing up a laugh, asked how they imagined 
 that one of his age could walk so great a distance without feeling dis- 
 tressed ? But that was only an excuse, for he was suffering from 
 excitement, and not fatigue, as was evident by his manner. 
 
 There was a dead silence among the party when the next question 
 was put, and even Phil was frightened at finding so much interest 
 taken about him. 
 
 " Did you ever, my boy — now try and remember — don't be afraid 
 to take your time — did you ever hear anybody mention a person 
 named Vautrin ?" 
 
 He waited almost breathlessly, until Phil replied, 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 17$ 
 
 " No, I can't say I ever did hear of such a name ; but there's a boy 
 on the heath as is called Volby, if you think he'd suit you." 
 
 "What should have made the French colonel start and fall back, as 
 if somebody had suddenly called out his name ? On the cards he 
 carried in his pocket was engraved " Le Colonel Victor Baudin Eat- 
 taplan, du ll e Leger." Then what should he care for such a person 
 as Yautrin ? And when the papa took out his pocket-book to write 
 down .the name of the workhouse where Philip had passed his infancy, 
 
 !why did this French officer keep on repeating to himself, " St. Lazarua 
 Union," as if he was afraid of forgetting the address ? 
 
 "What will not people do for a few hours' pleasure ? There were 
 two maid-servants living in a big white house on the right-hand side 
 of the heath — where the ivy on the wall stands out like a portico, so 
 that when it rains the cows will go there for shelter — and these 
 two poor girls would get up at four o'clock in the morning for what ? 
 — to have a donkey ride. They had got their long day's work before 
 them, and anybody would fancy that every moment of sleep would be 
 of consequence to give them strength for the day's labour, but merely 
 for the pleasure of sitting upon a donkey's back, and feeling it move 
 along with them, they did not mind rising betimes, before any of the 
 family were stirring. They would go to Phil overnight, and coax 
 him to be waiting round the corner, and as the clock struck four they 
 would come out of the back garden gate, and be off on the romp. It 
 was not a bad job for Philip, although it did come rather too early in 
 the morning, for when they returned back again at six, they would 
 give the boy such a big bundle of bread and meat that he had no oc- 
 casion to buy any more food for that day at least. They never met 
 with anybody during such rides, unless it was old Tom Pugh, the 
 water-carrier, who, striding his tub on wheels like a temperance Bac- 
 chus, sat looking at his white horse, whose wabbling ears dangled 
 about almost as loosely as the pails swinging behind the vehicle. 
 
 " Good morning, Tom," the girls would cry out. " Don't you tell 
 you saw us, or we'll beat you as black as a cinder." 
 
 While Philip was galloping these girls across the heath, he saw 
 something lying on the ground, and as the donkey-boys are always 
 on the look-out for treasure, the moment Phil saw this something, he 
 dropped his stick as if accidentally, as an excuse for lagging behind, 
 and returning to fetch it, picked up a purse. 
 
 Judging from human nature, and having closely watched the man- 
 ners and habits of infants of a tender age, we have come to the con- 
 clusion that honesty is entirely a matter of education, and is no more 
 an instinct born in us than forgiving your enemy, or eating with a 
 fork. Now, as the education of donkey-driving boys may be safely 
 quoted at nil, much honesty cannot be expected of them, and even if 
 it was, the expectation would most certainly be disappointed. "When 
 Sam Curt one day picked up a gold snuff-box, he never for one 
 moment thought it might possibly belong to somebody, but jerking it 
 hastily among some ferns, he marked the spot well, and fetched the 
 treasure at night. 
 
176 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 As there was not a soul to be seen stirring on the heath, Philip did 
 not think it worth while to take any such precaution with his god- 
 Bend, but with a clown's rapidity slipped it into his pocket, thinking 
 to himself " the early bird catches the early worm," and a very pretty 
 worm too. He was all impatience until the two servant girls had re- 
 turned home again, for his fingers were itching to open the clasp and 
 peep into the interior. He was quite astonished at his good fortune, 
 for it was along that very road that he had passed on the previous 
 evening when he was escorting the little school-girl. He felt sure 
 the purse was not there then, or he must have seen it. "When the ride 
 was over he did not wait to take the donkeys back to the stand, but 
 sought out some very secluded spot and took out the treasure. 
 
 "It's a first-rate looking thing," he thought to himself, "and 
 must have gold in it. If there are only a few shillings, however, I 
 shan't mind." 
 
 When he opened it, the features of his face relaxed with astonish- 
 ment, and he flung the purse away with disappointment. There was 
 not a single coin in any of its pockets. The only thing he could find 
 was an old doubled-up card, with " Viscount Ascot" printed in minute 
 letters in the centre and surmounted by an imposing crest. 
 
 He could not help exclaiming in disgust, " A viscount, and not a 
 farthing! "Why I'm as good a viscount as he- is! Call hisself a 
 nobleman, and not carry even such a thing as a pint of beer about 
 him! If that's your aristocracy, why a donkey-boy's a king — that's 
 all." 
 
 There was a certain stout foreigner with a thick moustache who 
 would have given Phil a golden sovereign to have regained that 
 purse, although there was not even a farthing in the pockets : but how 
 was the boy to know that. . 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CAPTAIN MERTON CROSIER AT HOME. 
 
 "With a handsome allowance from his father, and sick leave of 
 absence from his regiment, Captain Crosier leads the happiest life of 
 any man in London. He has capital rooms in Harley-street. He 
 has bargained for a latch-key, and every morning of his life his break- 
 fast is brought up to him in bed. 
 
 If the stern papa, who has just come up from Swanborough to 
 settle some business in town, had the least idea that his son was such a 
 dissipated young dog, it would have caused him not only to feel great 
 parental grief, but also to diminish, by at least one half, the cheques 
 that every three months were paid in to Captain Merton's account. 
 But whilst the "governor" is stopping at Biddle's Hotel in Brook- 
 street, the son is on his best behaviour, and conducts himself with the 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 177 
 
 decorum of a bishop. He bewails in private, to a few intimate friends, 
 what a dreadful bore it is to him to be always bothering about with 
 the old gentleman, and complains of the slow hotel dinners, and 
 beiug doomed to drink glass for glass from the one bottle of port. 
 But, as he says, " one must be civil to one's own father, you know." 
 
 When Captain Crosier dines and spends the evening with his 
 parent, he rings for his hat and gloves as the clock strikes half-past 
 ten, apologising for his early departure by saying, " I'm sorry to 
 leave you so soon, sir ; but I'm on sick leave, and eleven o'clock is 
 my time for bed." Then the father, delighted to see such prudence 
 in his boy, mutters to himself, " I'm glad to see Merton so steady and 
 careful," and shakes his hand almost with gratitude for such exemplary 
 conduct. But, instead of bending his steps towards Harley-street, 
 Captain Crosier lights his cigar, and saunters towards the Haymarket, 
 there to mingle with choice spirits like himself, and pass the night in 
 visiting the saloons and night-houses, until he has spent all the money 
 in his pocket but just sufficient to pay for his cab home. It is his 
 boast that he was never yet so " cut" but what he could, after a little 
 fencing with the keyhole, open the street-door for himself. 
 
 The captain has been fortunate in finding such excellent apartments, 
 for they have all the convenience of chambers, without their solitude. 
 He seems to do just as he likes in the house. Sometimes, when he 
 comes home at four o'clock in the morning, he will begin to play the 
 piano, but no complaints are ever made about the unreasonable hour 
 of the performance, although the captain, at such times, generally 
 presses down both pedals, and his touch, if not musically correct, is, 
 however, both brilliant and powerful. The handsomest piece of 
 furniture in the room is decidedly a tulip-wood cabinet for holding 
 cigars. There are only one or two chairs, which it is not safe to 
 sit down upon, and the carpet, which was once very handsome, would 
 have a cheerful effect still if the captain and his friends did not 
 spill beer on the white parts and tread cigar-ashes in the dark ones. 
 The walls had a more furnished look when the dissipated lodger 
 first came, but he insisted upon having the three-quarter portrait of 
 the late Mr. Bullunty, by Tomeston, removed from the chamber, 
 giving as a reason, that whenever he returned home at night the head 
 used to stare at him. He threatened that if it was not taken away 
 he should be forced to smash the masterpiece. 
 
 About twelve o'clock in the day, Caplain Crosier, with his dress- 
 ing-gown on, throws himself upon the sofa, ready to receive any 
 friends that may drop in upon him. In they come, one after another, 
 Fred Tattenham and Tom Oxendon, both calling out lustily for bitter 
 ale, then Charley Sutton to borrow a clean collar and a razor, and 
 after a time le Colonel Victor Baudin Eattaplan, who makes himself 
 so thoroughly at home that, without being invited, he helps himself 
 to a cigar, and sends clouds of smoke down his nose, as he exclaims, 
 " Dese cigar is capital, mon cher, but dey wants to be kep." 
 
 " How did you manage Oaks last night, after I went away," asks 
 the captain. 
 
 "We put him in a cab, and sent him home," answers Fred Tatten- 
 ham ; " I never saw a fellow so utterly done up." 
 
178 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 "I wonder what's become of Tom G-arden," inquires Charley 
 Sutton. 
 
 " Oh, he's gone to Boulogne, or the Bench," suggested his friend 
 Tattenham. " Where did you disappear, colonel," he adds, after a 
 time, turning to the Frenchman. 
 
 " We play at ecarte till breakfast- time," is the answer. 
 
 ■ Then you haven't been' to bed ?" inquires the captain. 
 
 " Ma foi, non. I never care to sleep ;" and he smiles as if he 
 thought everybody was saying, "What an extraordinary man he 
 is !" He is asked if he won, and he shrugs his shoulders in reply, 
 that being a kind of answer which can be taken either way, although, 
 if the truth must be told, the colonel seldom loses at cards, although 
 he generally plays high. 
 
 Whilst Captain Crosier is lighting his cigar, a sudden thought 
 strikes him. He says between the whiffs, " Oh, I've had such a jolly 
 letter from Viscount Ascot, saying that he can't go to the prize-fight 
 on Monday." As he is rather proud of his aristocratic friend, he 
 takes this letter from his pocket and reads it aloud : 
 
 " ' Dear Crosier, — A hundred thanks, but I'm engaged, though 
 I'd give pounds to be with you. You must be the bearer of my 
 apologies to our different friends. Yours, &c, 
 
 " < Ascot.' " 
 
 When he has finished reading, he throws the letter down on the 
 table, adding, " Isn't that like the old fellow — short and jolly ?" 
 
 Le Colonel Victor Baudin Eattaplan, du ll e Leger, says, " The 
 style is quite Anglais," and picks up the note. Whilst the others 
 are chatting, he appears to be making quite a study of the hand- 
 writing. The words which seem to interest him most are " hundred," 
 " pounds," and " bearer." The signature of the noble lord he appa- 
 rently admires excessively, for he twists the paper about, and peers 
 into it with extraordinary curiosity. When he puts the note down 
 again, he gives a hasty glance round the room, as if to see if his 
 actions have been noticed, and then, finding nobody had paid the 
 least attention to what he was doing, he slips the epistle under a book, 
 and assuming his most careless manner, walks up and down the room 
 with his hands in his pockets. He is in such excellent spirits, and 
 laughs and jokes with so much vivacity, that it is impossible to believe 
 that he has been up all night. All the fellows agree that the French 
 are a wonderful people and never seem to be tired of amusing them- 
 selves, but as the colonel says, " He has passed too many sleepless 
 nights encamped in de plains of Algeria to feel epuised with a 
 little card-playing." When he is asked to tell some of the Erench 
 stories, he makes the young fellows shout again with his wit, and, 
 indeed, we regret deeply that we cannot introduce some of his capital 
 anecdotes into these pages, only sometimes gentlemen in the army 
 meet with adventures that are not exactly fitted for the ears of 
 civilians. 
 
 When the Colonel Victor Baudin has concluded his little perform- 
 ance, the chatting again commences. 
 
v -rL^^ia^ . 
 
 is<mg&& ti/as/y ??ia/?M/ 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 179 
 
 "Any of you fellows going to Cressy's party?" asks Charley 
 Sutton. 
 
 " I can't stand their sherry," mutters Tom Oxendon. 
 
 "The Cressy girls are pretty," remarks another, affectedly. 
 
 " I like Julia, the youngest — she is the best of the batch," murmurs 
 the captain ; and then, looking up at the ceiling, he adds, " The little 
 devil squeezed my hand whilst I was dancing with her." 
 
 The windows were open, and Fred Tattenham had been smoking a 
 cigar on the balcony. He seemed very busily engaged watching the 
 house opposite, staring up at one of the upper windows so earnestly, 
 that Charley Sutton calls out, "What the deuce is Fred up to?" 
 This made everybody else want to know what has so interested their 
 friend, and in a body they darted towards the balcony. 
 
 The apartments of the gallant Captain Crosier were exactly in front 
 of the excellent hrick-huilt tenement of which Miss Tomsey held the 
 lease. Following the direction of Mr. Tattenham's up-turned face, 
 everybody discovered the reason why the sly Fred preferred lounging 
 on the balcony. At one of the upper windows sat Bertha, doing 
 needlework, and looking so innocent and beautiful it made you think 
 better of the world to look at her. 
 
 Charley Sutton gave Tattenham a tremendous slap on the back, and 
 cried, "You dog! I thought there was a woman somewhere!" All 
 the other fellows had something to say to the detected delinquent, and 
 in rapid succession he was either poked in the side, or jocularly termed 
 " a scoundrel" or a " villain," but which terms, although they have a 
 harsh sound, had really a complimentary meaning, and were intended 
 to refer to the gay Lothario's usual gallantry and great affection for 
 the female sex. 
 
 The little girl was stitching away quite unconscious of the commo- 
 tion she had caused on the other side of the way. If she could have 
 had the least idea that five men were staring at her, and watching all 
 her actions, you must not imagine that she would have remained by 
 the open window. No ; in less than a minute she would have jumped 
 off her chair, and, blushing as red as the cherry ribband round her 
 neck, have retired into the dark recess of the room, where most likely 
 she would have muttered something about impudent fellows, and 
 began working again. There was not a more modest or better-hearted 
 girl in Harley- street than Bertha, but nothing annoyed her more than 
 being stared at. 
 
 Thousands of times had Captain Crosier seen her working at that 
 window before, and he knew as well as possible how easily the girl 
 was driven away, hecause one morning he had ventured to give a 
 "hem !" in the hopes of making her look at him, and captivating her 
 with his good looks. But as the only effect his " hem!" had was to 
 drive the girl away, he had never repeated the experiment. Of an 
 afternoon, whenever Bertha took her seat by the window, the cap- 
 tain's usual practice was to half conceal himself behind the chintz 
 drawing-room curtains, and watch the girl through his opera-glass. 
 He would remain for hours enjoying himself in this manner. He had 
 confessed to Lord Oakes that there was " a little devil of a witch in 
 his street on whom he was quite spooney." He became quite angry 
 
 n2 
 
180 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 when Charley Sutton, in the exuberance of his high enjoyment, ex- 
 pressed his intention of whistling to "the little thing" so as to see 
 what kind of a face she had. 
 
 It happened most conveniently that Captain Crosier was the pos- 
 sessor of three opera-glasses, which, on the impulse of the moment, 
 he produced. "Whenever his friends came to see him, he did all he 
 could to amuse them. The telescope which it was his custom to take 
 to the sea-side with him was offered to and accepted by Tom Oxen- 
 don, and then did these wild young gentlemen proceed to examine the 
 unconscious Bertha as deliberately as if she had been a dancer at the 
 Opera. 
 
 How pretty the innocent child looked with her head bent down 
 over her work, and her white face shining with a soft, pearly lustre 
 against the dark interior of the room. Her hair was of a rich 
 autumnal brown, and her neck being arched forward, exposed to view 
 the thick coil circling at the back of the head, which, if it had been 
 undone, must have reached down to her knees at least. How many 
 ladies would have given the last ten years of their lives to have had 
 such hair as that ! But Bertha wore her glory without any attempt 
 at display, the rich glossy bands being plainly smoothed down over 
 her temples, and, crossing to the back, hiding all of the ear but the 
 little cherry end. 
 
 These beauties did the gentlemen discover in less time than it has 
 taken us to relate them. They declared Bertha to be so pretty that 
 she amply repaid the exertion of looking at her. Each one en- 
 deavoured to be the first to point out some new charm, and a kind of 
 race of discoveries commenced. 
 
 " These are capital glasses, Merton," said Fred Tattenham, peering 
 so intently that his face was screwed up as if he had the sun in his 
 eyes. " I can actually see the creases in her plump, creamy little 
 throat." 
 
 After everybody had noticed these creases, Charley Sutton ex- 
 claimed, " The little darling ! I wish I could see her eyes. Ain't they 
 rather goggly, Merton ?" 
 
 " If you mean large — yes," answered the captain; " as large as a 
 fawn's, and as gentle." 
 
 " If she had ten thousand pounds I'd marry her," volunteered Mr. 
 Sutton ; and after a second he added, " Ah ! I'd do it for eight thou- 
 sand — down !" 
 
 The Frenchman, who had been having a peep at the girl, deter- 
 mined, as everybody seemed to admire her so much, to be original, 
 and differ from the general opinion. So he said, with indifference, 
 " Yase, she is varry well, my dear fellows, but in Paris I could show 
 you tousands like her, and with plus d' esprit in the face." 
 
 This so enraged Fred Tattenham, that his patriotism was roused, 
 and he answered, very rudely, " Then I wish I'd known you when I 
 was in Paris, colonel, for I never saw a pretty woman all the time I 
 was there." 
 
 But Victor Baudin merely shrugged his shoulders in reply, as if it 
 were a loss of time to argue with one so blind. 
 
 Everything that poor Bertha did was noticed with great exactness. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 181 
 
 A lock of hair shorter than the rest was seen to nutter on her fore- 
 head, and everybody watched the rebellious curl with absorbing in- 
 terest. 
 
 " I wish she'd give it to me," sighed Oxendon ; " I'd have a pocket- 
 handkerchief marked with it." 
 
 By-and-by Bertha raised her hand and scratched the end of her arm, 
 which was obviously tickling. 
 
 " Let me do that for you, dear," muttered Fred Tattenham, speak- 
 ing at the girl. 
 
 How long these gentlemen would have remained looking through 
 their opera-glasses and telescope was uncertain, but when Bertha 
 suddenly rose from her chair and disappeared there was a cry of regret 
 from them all, and a discussion was commenced as to whether she 
 would come back again. 
 
 The Frenchman burst out laughing. "My dear enfants" he re- 
 marked, shaking his head, "do you fancy she not know that you 
 looking at her ? I tell you she know. That is the way with your 
 froides Anglaises. It is prudery, not what you call modesty." 
 
 If ladies could occasionally overhear the conversations that take 
 place at these bachelor meetings, no doubt their opinions of man's 
 character would be greatly altered. In the same way, if it were 
 possible to gain admission to any of those friendly chats that take 
 place between young ladies, what a flood of light it would let in upon 
 the mysteries of the female heart. 
 
 As Bertha did not return to her chair, the gentlemen grew tired of 
 staring up at the window for nothing, and again adjourned to the 
 room to smoke and drink bitter ale. The first thing Fred Tattenham 
 said, as he threw himself into an easy-chair, was, " I shall look after 
 that little darling, she's too pretty to be lost." 
 
 This speech roused the captain, who, lifting his eyebrows in asto- 
 nishment, cried, " Well, that is cool ! No poaching here, Fred." 
 
 " Poaching !" answered Tattenham. " I discovered her first, my 
 good sir, five weeks ago. I take possession of her by right of dis- 
 covery," 
 
 " You discovered her — you ?" roared Merton, in disgust. " Why, 
 I have known her these six months. No ! honour amongst thieves ! 
 Don't rob a poor man of his girl !" 
 
 They quarrelled for a little time longer as to whose property 
 Bertha really was, and at one time the words grew very high. _ You 
 would almost have imagined that they were a party of^Amerlcan 
 planters talking about their slaves, for they made use of such phrases 
 as, " The girl's mine" — "I won't part with her" — and " You have no 
 right to her." If Bertha could have known how quietly she had been 
 disposed of, she would have been rather startled. 
 
 " You are only wasting your time running after the girl," sneered 
 Tattenham at Merton; "you had better give her up to me. You'll 
 never succeed. You haven't, the industry." 
 
 To have his reputation as a successful man among women attacked, 
 and in his own house, and before so many people too, made the cap- 
 tain feel very savage. 
 
 " What will you bet ?" he cried out. " Make it fifty." 
 
182 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 * But how on earth are you to settle it ?" asked Charley Sutton. 
 
 " The best method," suggested le Colonel Battaplan, " is to ask us 
 all to a dinner at Bichmonds dis day six month, and she shall be de 
 queen of de festin — if Crosier can bring her." 
 
 " Done !" said Crosier, " and the fellow who loses pays for the 
 dinner as well." 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock when the smoking party broke up. When 
 they were gone, Crosier had occasion to refer to the note he had re- 
 ceived from Viscount Ascot, but though he and Mr. Cutler, his man, 
 searched for nearly a quarter of an hour, the note could not be found. 
 
 " Let me see, who was reading it last ?" said the captain, search- 
 ing in his memory. " I think it was the Trench colonel. I suppose 
 he must have lit his cigar with it." And consoling himself with the 
 philosophy that " if it was lost that ended the matter," he dismissed 
 the subject from his mind. 
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 THE FIGHT FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP, 
 
 We are going to a prize fight with Captain Crosier and his friends. 
 We are obliged to go, because the captain is supporting Jack Ham- 
 mer, one of the combatants — indeed, the last deposit of 15Z. which 
 was made for this important and interesting affair at Alf Cox's " Jolly 
 Trainer," came out of the gallant officer's pocket. 
 
 But, before starting, we can promise those who accompany us on 
 this valorous trip, that the combat will not be nearly so terrible as 
 they imagine it to be. 
 
 How is it that they have never been enabled to put down prize- 
 fights in England ? They could stop bull-baiting and cock-fighting, 
 but it seems as if pugilism defied every attempt at its suppression. 
 
 The most curious circumstance is, that this propensity to fisty- 
 cuffing seems born in the British subject. Little boys of seven and 
 eight, who, if they know anything of the use of the fist, must do so 
 by instinct, will square up to each other and begin to pummel their 
 poor little round faces, and all the time they seem to be acquainted 
 with the rules of the ring, and no matter how blinded they may be 
 by rage, they subscribe to the professional etiquette. Look at an 
 English boy in a French school, and see what deference is paid to the 
 loxeur by his companions, and how carefully they avoid bringing 
 themselves under the penalty of his fist. How to goodness can any- 
 body fancy that it is possible to do away with prize-fighting in Eng- 
 land ? It's born in us, and is not the cause, but the result of our 
 bravery. We are a hard-muscled race, and as long as we consider it 
 our right to eat meat at our meals, just so long will our deltoid 
 muscles be as hard as those of a gladiator, and our courage as reck- 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 183 
 
 less and impulsive as that of a bull-dog. "Who would wish to change 
 his bold English nature for the deceit of the Spaniard, or the treachery 
 of the Greek ? Tour foreigner, however much he may rave and fume 
 at the insult given in the day, prepares to avenge it with the stiletto 
 in the dark ? your Englishman cannot muzzle and cage his lion until 
 a safe time comes for repayment of the injury, and a blow from him 
 is as natural as a kick from a racer, the result of high training. If 
 he thinks over his wrongs, he forgives them. 
 
 What animal is more useless than a racer ? Four or five times in 
 the year it has to fly like the wind over a mile or two of ground, and 
 yet for this result the training of each animal costs more than a 
 college education, and an amount of care is shown which no professor 
 could afford to devote to his pupil. The only good resulting from 
 racing is the improvement of the breed of English horses. Tou have 
 only to travel twenty miles out of England to understand the dif- 
 ference between the round-nosed, big-headed steed of the foreigner, 
 and the high-spirited, exquisitely-proportioned animal of our own 
 country. This training of horses is as much English as the art of 
 boxing, and whether it be on the Champ de Mars, or the Petroveski 
 plains outside Moscow, you will find your English trainers great 
 persons in authority. 
 
 Pugilism has done for Englishmen the same as high breeding has 
 done for British horses. The mere men who fight are of themselves 
 low and useless. The result of their lives may be put down at a two 
 hours' fighting match. But these mere sloggers and bruisers have a 
 great influence over the courage of the nation, and in judging them, 
 we have no more right to look only to the brutalities of the combat 
 than we have to object to the dressing of a field because the manure 
 has a disagreeable odour. The men who marched up the steep accli- 
 vities of the Alma owed their courage to the influence of pugilism. 
 The sailors who, to prevent the escape of the enemy's ship, will lash 
 the vessels together, owe their daring to the influence of the prize- 
 ring. As long as we are Englishmen, so long will pugilism endure ; 
 and when we cease to enjoy that brave character which influences the 
 entire world, then the fist will be superseded by the dagger, and the 
 "fair" fight give place to the midnight assassination. 
 
 "We admit it is a low kind of warfare, but still it is not a mere 
 brutal display of strength. It is a science of great difficulty, and 
 governed by laws wonderful for their generosity to the conquered, 
 and their restraint upon the conqueror. These scenes are the last 
 remnants of the days of the tournament, and if they have not all the 
 trappings and display of the mediaeval combat, they have in its stead 
 more generous chivalry. 
 
 The day when the celebrated Ned Tongs, through the medium of 
 a well-known sporting paper, challenged the renowned Jack Hammer 
 to fight him in five or six months for any sum from 100Z. aside up to 
 500Z., the pugilistic world was quite taken aback by the temerity of 
 the man. Every night the parlour of the " Jolly Trainer" was noisy 
 with the discussions upon Ned's foolhardiness. It seemed to be the 
 general opinion that Mr. Tongs had overrated his capabilities, as he 
 would find out by the " thumping damages" when the cause came to 
 
184 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 be heard. Jack Hammer was the champion of England, — a man 
 standing over six feet, with a paving-stone of a fist, a chest like a 
 dray-horse, and weighing almost as much as a prize ox. He fought 
 his 'first battle when he was seventeen, and was then considered the 
 most promising little big one of the day. He kept on fighting steadily 
 up the road to glory until, when his face was dented in like an old 
 hat, he attained the highest honours the boxing profession can award, 
 and became champion of England. He was celebrated for being a 
 terrific hitter with his right, and if any of his blows got home, a co- 
 roner's inquest was sure to follow. INow, on the other hand, Ned 
 Tongs was both a middle height and a middle weight, and it was a 
 matter of wonderment why he took so strong a fancy to try conclu- 
 sions with Jack Hammer. He was known by his brother pugs to be 
 one of the gamest hands in the ring, but as for having a chance for 
 the victory, that was absurd and silly. It is true that Ned Tongs 
 had done some work in his time, and was rather looked up to as an 
 enterprising bruiser ; but, as Alf Cox remarked, " It was backing a 
 fly against a bird. "What chance," he asked, " can ten stone eight 
 have against fourteen stone six ? Why, no more than a pane of 
 glass against a sledge hammer. And," added Mr. Cox, prophetically, 
 " if Ned gets one of Jack's ' hot 'uns,' he must say good-by to day- 
 light !" 
 
 The place of meeting for all those who wished to witness this great 
 championship fight was the railway station, and as the clock struck 
 Beven, Captain Crosier and his friends drove up to the terminus, and 
 being well known " Corinthians," as the patrons of the ring are 
 called, were received with much respect by the different members of 
 the " milling" profession. 
 
 The crowd assembled must have numbered some five hundred men, 
 all dressed in the fancy fashion, wearing shooting jackets and cloth 
 caps of every colour. They were all pushing very savagely to reach 
 the ticket-box, and the uproar was increased by those in the back- 
 ground shouting out to their friends who were getting their passes 
 such directions as, " Bill, get three for me — Tom Mitchett ;" or, 
 " Just collar mine, will you, Fred ?" 
 
 Having secured their seats, our Corinthians passed the time in 
 looking at the boxing celebrities walking about the platform. In 
 rapid succession Captain Crosier pointed them out to his friends : 
 " There's the ' Clapham Smasher' and his crew, and there's the 
 * Southwark Pounder,' who gave Tom Fig such a licking the other 
 day." 
 
 " Where are our men ?" asked Tom Oxendon ; and he was in- 
 formed that in order to keep clear of the police, they had been " for- 
 warded" overnight. 
 
 It was an ordinary train by which they were travelling, and among 
 the passengers were a few women, who could not for the life of them 
 imagine why all the carriages should be full of ugly-faced men with 
 broken noses. They were afraid to trust themselves among such a 
 savage-looking crew, and seemed as much alarmed as if they had sud- 
 denly tumbled among a band of brigands. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 185 
 
 During the journey, the captain, who knew the country well, 
 endeavoured to chat away the monotony of a three hours' run. " It's 
 a nasty country for hunting — so full of rabbit-holes," he would say 
 at one time; and if any one asked whose pack was there, and if 
 there were any foxes, he seemed able to give the required information. 
 He would point out farmers' houses where he had many a time taken 
 a glass of brandy, or, coming to some little secluded woody spot, he 
 would describe a pic-nic he once had there, and detail a very curious 
 adventure, in which a very lovely young lady acted very imprudently. 
 
 It had been arranged by those in power that, to avoid the rabble 
 who always flock to such sights, the train should travel out some 
 seventy miles towards the coast, where a steamer would be in wait- 
 ing to convey the select party to the place of combat. At every 
 station it was'noticed that policemen had been sent down to seize the 
 combatants if they showed themselves. At one stopping-place a 
 crowd was seen to hurry along the platform, following a brown-faced 
 man. 
 
 n There's Jack Hammer !" cried Captain Crosier, springing to the 
 window. " What a man he is ! If Ned has a taste of his right, he'll 
 be done for." 
 
 "Ay, that's Jack, true enough," said a stranger in the carriage, 
 " and as good-hearted a man as any in England. You might throw a 
 glass of ale in his face, and he wouldn't hurt you." 
 
 Presently another man, equally brown but not so tall as Jack 
 Hammer, passed along, and this time everybody recognised Ned 
 Tongs. 
 
 " How well he looks," cried Crosier. " Confound him ! who's his 
 trainer, I wonder ?" 
 
 Great excitement was produced at this station by a man running 
 from carriage to carriage, offering to bet five to four on Tongs. 
 
 After everybody had many times inquired how much farther they 
 had to go, the terminus was reached, and the crowd rushed towards 
 the steamer. The two combatants had already been taken out, and 
 were seen trudging along far ahead, surrounded by their backers and 
 seconds, concealing them as much as possible, for fear of the police. 
 
 Now boats of every kind came rushing up to the water's edge to 
 carry the passengers to the steamer lying in wait at a slight distance 
 from the shore. Cockle-shells intended to carry four were crammed 
 with twelve, and so tossed about by the waves every moment, that 
 you expected to see them sink : but none of the small craft, from the 
 " Lively Jane," scarcely bigger than a sofa, to the " Saucy Ann," a 
 large fishing-smack, met with any accident. There was a dreadful 
 scuffle before any one was received on board the steamer, for the ad- 
 mission was by a two-guinea ticket — an expense which many were de- 
 sirous of escaping. " Where's your ticket ?" shouted the man at the 
 gangway ; " can't come up here without a ticket. Pay the two 
 sovereigns, then. Here, take money from this gentleman," sir." 
 This reads very quietly, but it was spoken with foaming of mouth 
 and shaking of fists. Some, who endeavoured to push their way into 
 the vessel, were hurled back again at the risk of death by drowning, 
 for an order had been given to call some fighting men to keep order, 
 and such gentlemen do not stand on trifles. 
 
186 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 When the man with the ropes for forming the ring and an in- 
 teresting cargo of hampers had been taken on board, the steamer 
 began to paddle away. Then, from the cabin beneath, up stepped a 
 man wearing a blue velvet cap. He was brown as a Spaniard, and 
 his close-shorn face and short hair — where gripping was impossible — 
 told you that he was one of the heroes of the day. He looked as hard 
 as iron, and there was great strength in his thick neck, and careless- 
 ness in his bull-dog air. He lay down on the ground, with a horse- 
 cloth over him, supporting his head on the big brown hand that was 
 soon to do such execution. When people asked Ned Tongs whether he 
 felt "up to the mark," he smiled and showed his white teeth, but 
 would not bother himself to answer. On the other side of the boat 
 was another man with a blue velvet cap, lying down with his head in 
 the backer's lap. He, too, was as brown and silent as an Indian, and 
 only roused himself when he was brought some food. Then the lion 
 stood erect — a heavy man, taller than any about him, with a flat, 
 battered face, on which the scars showed like white streaks. 
 
 The Corinthians were very numerous, and Captain Crosier met 
 with many majors and lieutenants from such and such a regiment, 
 who talked alternately of the opera last night and the fight to come. 
 Sandwiches were offered, and pocket-flasks passed round. In the fore- 
 cabin the contents of the hampers had been laid out, and half-cold ribs 
 of beef, chickens that had been roasted into only a pink state, veal, 
 and lettuces, w ere spread upon the table in picnic confusion. Bottled 
 ale had risen to three shillings a bottle, and wine had reached a fabu- 
 lous price. Men with stone jugs under their arms paraded the deck, 
 calling out, " Who's for a go of brandy ?" It was not like the ordi- 
 nary cognac, but an opaque liquid, brown as strong tea. 
 
 How could they have known on the other side of the river that the 
 fight w r as to take place there ? yet the shores were crowded with men, 
 and as the steamer approached the shore a regatta of little boats came 
 off to keep her company, and follow her as a flock of swallows chase 
 a hawk. 
 
 Tired with the length of the journey, the fighting community began 
 to gamble on the deck. They had brought dice with them, and sat 
 down to play at hazard. Men in dirty clothes pulled" out sovereigns 
 from their pockets, and when they were lost borrowed more from 
 their friends. 
 
 There were other gentlemen who had got,"somehow or other, on 
 board, who were also fond of gambling ; but they only played a very 
 safe game with three cards, out of w r hich they wager that nobody 
 will discover the jack. 
 
 At length the place of disembarkation was reached. An embank- 
 ment of big stones, a dyke half-covered with sea-weeds, formed a kind 
 of screen, hiding the fields on the other side from any one passing on 
 the river. It was a capital snug place ; and the little fleet of sailing- 
 boats circled round the steamer in miraculous numbers, and carried 
 to the shore as many as could be crammed on to their benches. The 
 river was covered with craft. Another steamer, which had come from 
 London at cheap fares, came panting up, and poured out its rough, 
 noisy passengers. There were barges, and fishing-smacks, and little 
 
« 
 
 „¥ 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 187 
 
 sailing-skiffs, and they crept up one after another until the water was 
 crowded as at a regatta. The passengers were landed in the water, 
 and had to scramble up the steep embankment, slipping over the 
 sea-weed or wrenching their feet between the stones. The field 
 of rich grass was soon trampled down by the crowds rushing in the 
 direction of the men who were already measuring off the ring, inside 
 which the fight was to take place. Whilst the stakes were being 
 driven into the ground, those who had bought tickets for the inner 
 ring stuck the blue paper in their hatband, and took up their places 
 near the ropes. The card-sharpers, too, commenced business with their 
 three-card trick, and picked up the sovereigns as fast as the Corin- 
 thians chose to stake them. They spread a little green baize upon the 
 grass, and as they shifted the cards about pattered in the old style — 
 " These two you lose ; this one you win. I bet anybody fifty sove- 
 reigns that they cannot discover the jack." Then up would come 
 the accomplice, and instantly win five pounds. But Jack Anderson, 
 who was " working" the trick, seemed to take such losses very easily, 
 and cried out, " I never mind losing, gentlemen ; if I didn't lose 
 sometimes everybody would win always, and then there would be 
 an end to sport. I'd sooner wager fifty sovereigns than ten, and 
 ten than five." 
 
 Then how naturally did Jack Anderson look behind him, and how 
 knowingly did the accomplice turn up the jack to the lookers-on. 
 " I'll lay you two sovereigns on this one," cried the accomplice. 
 
 "Make it five," answered Jack. 
 
 " Don't move the cards," excitedly exclaimed the accomplice; and 
 he got some greenhorn standing by to stake 31. besides his own. Of 
 course no jack was there. 
 
 Now the preparations for the fight were proceeding with rapidity. 
 Some three thousand persons had gathered round the ropes, and 
 formed a sloping amphitheatre of heads, the nearest to the ring lying 
 down, those further beyond standing up, and the mob behind raised 
 up on platforms. Bundles of straw were distributed to the dif- 
 ferent Corinthians to soften their seats on the ground. Boys with 
 dinner-knives were busy clearing away the grass in the ring, and 
 the fighting-men who were appointed ring-keepers, to keep order, were 
 provided with gutta percha whips to beat back the crowd. But sud- 
 denly all heads were turned towards the fields, and a cry of disgust 
 was raised as a farm labourer on horseback was seen galloping 
 towards them. For a moment the proceedings were stayed, until 
 Captain Crosier could square the man with half a sovereign. The 
 yokel remained to see the sight. 
 
 There was a cheer as the two combatants appeared, their seconds 
 conveying the carpet-bags which contained their professional costume. 
 They had taken off their coats, when another cry of despair was 
 raised, and climbing over the ditches were seen the five dark forms of 
 policemen. " The peelers I" shout the mob ; and the umpire, springing 
 to his feet, cried, " Take the men on board ;" and before the constables 
 had neared the spot, the boat which carried the heroes of the day was 
 alongside the steamer. 
 
 There were at least three thousand men, and yet five policemen 
 
188 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 were sufficient to disperse them. It is true that a little joking took 
 place, and the sergeant was asked, "Now you've come, what have 
 you got?" Those who were pulling up the stakes inquired of the 
 police " How they enjoyed their walk, and when they had ordered 
 their carriages to fetch 'em ?" 
 
 Back went the boats to the steamers, the river was dotted with 
 the craft going and returning, and the black specks of passengers 
 were seen climbing the vessel's side. Before he entered his boat, 
 Captain Crosier called out, " Mind, none of you watermen help the 
 police;" and by the unanimous "All right!" shouted in answer, 
 there was no mistaking which side the watermen took. 
 
 Off went the steamer again, followed by the fleet of small craft, 
 leaving the five policemen standing on the embankment. A shout of 
 laughter was raised in derision against them, but it soon ceased when 
 a pigeon was seen to fly up into the air, for everybody knew that an 
 express had been sent off to warn the station higher up. Now came 
 the hunt after another and safer fighting place, and at length the 
 order was given to " stop her" opposite some fields, in the centre of 
 which was a quiet farm, from which a sheep-dog rushed out and 
 barked violently. This time, at any rate, there was no chance of in- 
 terruption, for the farmer longed to see the combat himself, and offered 
 to lend a meadow at the back of some sheds for the battle to be 
 fought in. Once more the stakes were driven into the earth, and the 
 spectators took their places. Even the tops of the sheds were seized 
 upon by some as a kind of gallery from which to see the fight. 
 
 The two men stripped to the waist, and clothed only in the lightest 
 of drawers and the neatest of ankle-jacks, entered the ropes, smiling 
 in the most amiable manner. When time was cried they shook 
 hands heartily, and then stood facing each other as if to allow 
 the crowd an opportunity of examining the build and condition of 
 their bodies. But although each man looked the picture of good 
 temper, and was smiling until his teeth looked white as almonds 
 against the raisin-coloured skin, yet each countenance had a different 
 kind of expression. The big man seemed to despise his diminutive 
 rival, and looked on him with pity and half contempt ; he had told 
 his seconds that he would soon bring the drop-scene down. But the 
 bold Ned Tongs appeared so impudently brave and so full of confi- 
 dence, that many who were against him in the morning now began to 
 change their opinions. 
 
 There was great excitement about this contest, because it was 
 deemed to be a decisive trial between the old and the new styles of 
 boxing, whether the skill and activity of Ned were a match for the 
 weight and strength of Jack. It w^as remarked that the giant was 
 looking pulpy about the chest, and his back was pronounced to be 
 too fleshy, but the little 'un seemed like a model in wax, so firm and 
 hard did he look. But, after all, how was a rat of a man like Ned to 
 overcome such a bull-dog as Hammer. Betting began at four to five 
 on the " big 'un." 
 
 At length the men, still smiling as jollily as if black eyes and 
 broken noses were the best fun in the world, fell into their attitudes, 
 and the contest commenced. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 189 
 
 The spectators were divided into two factions, and each, when 
 their man gained the least advantage, shrieked and howled with de- 
 light. The groans and abuse with which they visited the fighting 
 of the man they bet against — the coarse praise with which they urged 
 on their favourite, was the music to which the battle was fought. 
 The combatants themselves paid no attention to the riot, but con- 
 tinued to fight and smile, never appearing so thoroughly delighted 
 and amiable as when a blow told and left undeniable evidence of its 
 severity on the face or body of the receiver. 
 
 Each of the men had, previous to the fight, done a little profitable 
 business by selling pocket-handkerchiefs, which they called their 
 colours. The supporters of Hammer wore their white spotted silk 
 tied loosely round the neck, whilst Ned's friends sported a similar 
 ornament, but of an orange colour. 
 
 The first round was soon terminated, for Jack got a " cracker on 
 his nut" which knocked his "rammers" from under him, and the 
 only wonder was that he did not lose his head instead of his feet. A 
 shout of delight rose up from the white spots. Some cried, " Ah ! 
 where was you then, Jack," and one or two offers were made of five 
 to six on Tongs. The mob pressed forward and were beaten back 
 by the ring-keepers, who lashed the hats with their gutta percha 
 whips, and shouted, " Yah ! yah ! move back'ards, you roughs ! what 
 are you bursting the ropes for ?" 
 
 At the second round, the men seemed to have made up their minds 
 what their play was to be. Ned saw that his only chance of victory 
 w r as in tiring the giant out, so whenever the huge machine advanced 
 towards him, he retreated, skipping like a harlequin. In vain did the 
 white spots howl out, " He's like a d d lambkin, that ain't fight- 
 ing." After some sparring, Jack threw out his " pile-drivers" and 
 caught Ned on the "sniffer," but the nose didn't suffer much, and 
 the return blow came quick as a racer's kick, and " dabbed the paint" 
 about the giant's " meat-mincer," making the lip rise like balm. 
 
 " How did that taste ?" roared the yellows. 
 
 The betting, despite some who still cry out, " The old 'un for a hun- 
 dred," is now in favour of Tongs. Although he smiled most blandly, 
 Jack rushed like a Blunderbore up to the little 'un, but Ned waltzed 
 out of the way, administering a "full stop" on Jack's "head-lamps," 
 which changed the colour about the eye to a bright puce. But the 
 giant only laughed and shook his head, whilst the yellows cried 
 out, "An eye! an eye!" in a paroxysm of delight. Next came 
 some more dancing, which roused the indignation of the white spots 
 to such a fury that some yelled with rage, and others called it " a game 
 of touch ;" but the yellows were in high glee, and asked Hammer how 
 the last blow tasted. They soon went to work again, and then Ned 
 sent his "hard dumplings" against Jack's " organ-pipes," and upset 
 the "port wine," the blood squirting from the nose in such quantities 
 that some shouted out in delight, " By God, he's sick ! he's sick !" But 
 no such thing, Hammer was not sick, but foaming with rage. He 
 shook his head, and whilst the mob shrieked out " He's lumpy !" he 
 rushed in like a bull, and if his right had told, where would Ned Tongs 
 have been ? But the giant is too slow with his blows. When he 
 
190 PAVED "WITH GOLD. 
 
 struck he frowned with the strength he put into his thrusts, and the 
 active Tongs had plenty of time to ward them off, though the im- 
 mense force of the lunge was shown by the red and blue marks that 
 appeared on that part of the arm where the blow was stopped. The 
 little 'un again took to his legs and stepped away grinning, but when 
 he found Hammer hunting him he turned round and administered a 
 " chipper," which dented the snuffer- tray, opening the nose like a ripe 
 pea-pod. How the cheering burst forth from the yellows as the blood 
 fell drop by drop, fast as the dripping of melting snow ! The giant 
 shook his head and gazed after the nimble Ned ; then he smiled and 
 shook his head in despair, as much as to say, " He runs away from 
 me." 
 
 But before long he again went to business, banging out heavily as a 
 cart-horse, and Ned got a biter on his "day-opener," which made him 
 wink the eye violently, whilst the return compliment was on Jack's 
 " heaver," putting a dab of rouge on the breast. Being both of them 
 tired, they began to spar, so as to recover their breath. Standing 
 face to face, they began working their arms about, and with wonder- 
 ful dexterity did they stop each other's thrust, the arms when they 
 met smacking together with the crack of a whip. After a time, Jack 
 jerked his drumsticks against Ned's " bonebox," with a force that 
 must have loosened every tooth, but, although the blood gushed out, he 
 continued to smile, and nodded approvingly to the leviathan, caring 
 little for the shout of " There's a doser !" raised by the white spots. 
 Watching his opportunity, he most amiably returned the compliment 
 on Jack's cheek, * peeling the bark," setting the "red ink" running, 
 and the blood streaming from the wound so covered the face that the 
 man was obliged to retire to his seconds, and get his face wiped with 
 a wet sponge. ' Sniffing and working his tongue about, he returned 
 to the fight, but his eye looked so vicious that Ned took to hopping, 
 and shuffled off, leaving the elephantine Hammer to wear out his 
 "shufflers" chasing him. Many were the howls of " Stand still, you 
 running flunkey," and " He thinks it's a foot-race." But Ned paid no 
 attention to the criticism, but followed his own tactics, dodging under 
 the giant's arm when the latter hadjpinned him up in a corner, and 
 wriggling like an eel until he had cleared himself from the perils of 
 close quarters. The active skirmisher, watching his chances, made 
 Hammer's pursuit one of difficulties, by administering another " clip- 
 per" into Jack's cheek, opening the old wound afresh, and completely 
 " smashing his panels," and "knocking off the veneer." The giant tried 
 to return the favour, but the little 'un was quadrilling on the light 
 fantastic. So Hammer took advantage of the pause in the performance 
 to go up to his corner, and once more get the " liquid rouge" wiped 
 off his " wig-block." Up to this time, Ned's countenance was almost 
 without a scratch, and presented a strong contrast to that of his 
 wounded antagonist — as the white spots called it. 
 
 When Hammer's face had been washed, he returned to his work, 
 and the game of touch was renewed, Tongs skipping actively round 
 the ring, and the big 'un so intent on the chase that he gave Ned 
 time to administer a stinger on the wounded cheek, which this time 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 191 
 
 quite upset the bottle, and drenched Jack in a plentiful supply of " his 
 own training-oil." Some sparring and neat stopping followed, wind- 
 ing up with a chipper on the giant's " snuff-box," on the old sore. Then 
 they went to work slogging, Jack delivering a " head-acher" on the 
 "wool-grower," and Ned one not to be winked at on the "peepers," 
 both loud double knocks. Before this round was concluded, Jack 
 took a heavy instalment on his " turret," which must have damaged 
 his " weathercock ;" and then he once more retired to do his toilet and 
 get his "red ink" blotted up, after which followed a little more 
 chevy chase, ending in Ned touching up for the third time the giant's 
 "snorer," in return for which Jack tapped with his fives on the little 
 'un's lid, and completely knocked him off his castors. 
 
 Before the fight was finished there were nine such rounds, but it 
 would be monotonous to detail them at full length, for the description 
 would too closely resemble what we have already attempted to pic- 
 ture. Captain Crosier and his friends were seated near the umpire, 
 and although the combat ended in the defeat of the man he had 
 backed, still he always speaks of this fight as being one of the most 
 interesting sights he ever witnessed. " I wouldn't have missed it for 
 thousands," he says, rather pompously, for he is known to be up to 
 his eyes in debt. 
 
 Some of the blows were truly terrific. By continually hitting on 
 the wound in Jack Hammer's cheek, it at last opened so that the 
 quarter of an orange might have been placed in the cut, and the blood 
 flowing from it trickled on to his breast, until his whole body was red, 
 as if he wore a huntsman's coat. Then the mob yelled with delight, 
 and the fellows vied with one another which should say the most in- 
 sulting things to the wounded man, the most successful of which was, 
 " S'help me, I should like to have your photograph." 
 
 "When a round was ended, the men were seized by their seconds, 
 and carried, as in a chair, to their corners, where they were made to 
 rinse their mouths, and water was spirted into their faces to freshen 
 them. From loss of blood and fatigue in chasing his rival, Jack Ham- 
 mer at last grew so distressed that his head began to reel, but he still 
 struck out vigorously, doing himself great harm by the useless energy 
 of his wild thrusts. "Whenever the moments of rest arrived, the 
 seconds would rub his legs vigorously, endeavouring to remove their 
 stiffness, and the yellows never failed to notice this, screaming 
 out with joy, " Look what they're doing !" or, " Go it, Ned ! he 
 hasn't got sixpenn'orth in him." It was certain that the giant would 
 be conquered. His friends, in alarm, tried to assist him with advice, 
 and his backers asked him " "Why he didn't throw out his left ?" 
 They endeavoured to inspirit him by hooting at the dancing Ned 
 such remarks as, " Dear, dear, what a pity to fight such a foot-race !" 
 But it was evident that Hammer would have to yield up his title of 
 champion of England before many rounds were fought. 
 
 It was terrible to look on when the men were fighting what proved 
 to be their last round. The excited mob were pressing forward, 
 caring nothing for the whips and orders of the ring-keepers. The worn- 
 out giant seemed now more intent on defending himself than attack- 
 
192 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 ing his adversary. " At him, Ned," screamed the yellows. " Make 
 him run about!" " Break his heart !" Whilst the only thing the 
 white spots could, in their despair, think of, was to call out hopelessly, 
 " Keep up, old man !" If the staggering Jack received a blow, there 
 was a yell of, " Tou went up for something that time !" When- 
 ever any of his vigorous lunges failed, a laugh of " Ha ! ha !" burst 
 out on every side. The man was fearful to look at. His face was 
 like a ripe plum with the bruises, and the gash on his cheek was still 
 streaming with blood. At length the final blow was given. It came 
 with a crash upon his lip, tearing it like paper," and making the jaw 
 swell out like the muzzle of an ape. Almost fainting, the big man 
 was carried to his corner. 
 
 The brave fellow would have come forward again, but a shout 
 of sympathy arose among the people, and Tongs was told not to 
 touch the old man. The gallant Ned, folding his arms, and looking 
 like a gladiator, stared at his brave foe, and then shrugged his 
 shoulders, as much as to say, " What am I to do if he doesn't know 
 when he's beaten ?" Some shouted, " Get a cradle for the old 'un!" 
 Others roared, " Send him home !" until at last those who had been 
 backing Jack Hammer, seeing that the mob were opposed to anything 
 like brutality, declared that their man should fight no more. So the 
 combatants shook hands, and smiled blandly on each other again. A 
 sponge was thrown up as a signal that the combat was over, and Ned 
 Tongs, amid the cheers of those who had been betting on him, was 
 declared champion of England. 
 
 The crowd. got back to their boats just as another bevy of police 
 were seen advancing in the distance. Such an uproar of laughter 
 greeted these constables that they heard it in the far off, and 
 stood still, as if aware that they had come too late. On board the 
 steamer, the conqueror of the fight collected subscriptions among the 
 passengers for the benefit of the conquered, and after he had handed 
 over the twenty-five sovereigns to the dejected Hammer, he gene- 
 rously proceeded to plaister up the wounds that an hour before he had 
 taken such trouble to inflict. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 193 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 ALL WORK AND NO PLAY. 
 
 There must have been a dash of the vagabond in Phil's disposition, 
 for he hadn't been on the heath a fortnight before he was perfectly 
 disgusted with donkeys and driving. He repeated so often to himself 
 that " it was the worst day's work he ever did when he first made the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Tobias Sparkler," that at last he convinced him- 
 self the remark was true. He was restless and impatient ; angry 
 if anything was given him to do, and jealous if the job was handed 
 over to another. The authoritative manner in which Swinging Fred 
 ordered him about was especially displeasing to his pride, and many a 
 time he had been on the verge of rebellion, and of telling the overseer 
 to do it himself, and not to " come the bully over him." 
 
 He must have inherited these defects in his character from his 
 father ; for his mother — poor lady !— was as kind-hearted and gentle 
 a creature as ever breathed, and would have lived happy and contented 
 to this day had she not fallen into the power of that French rascal. 
 
 When Phil was stationed in the village, he imagined all the 
 sport and enjoyment were to be had on the heath. JSTow he began to 
 regret he had ever thrown up his idle post of touter, with its en- 
 joyments of lolling in the sun, and carving his whip-handle into all 
 kinds of shapes. Eunning after donkeys he found out was harder 
 work than he had fancied. It was a very different thing, he dis- 
 covered, to laugh at what others were doing, and having to perforin 
 the labour himself. The exercise was so severe, that it soon put an 
 end to all merriment. 
 
 If it had not been that Phil considered himself bound in honour to 
 Bertha to remain at the business, he would most certainly have tried 
 some other occupation. More than once he thought very seriously 
 about returning to his old friends, the crossing- sweepers, for the noise 
 and excitement of the streets were great attractions, and better suited 
 to him, he imagined. 
 
 The first Monday after Philip had been promoted to the heath was; 
 an excessively busy day. Mr. Sparkler cleared in pennies and six- 
 pences more than eight pounds. The boys had to perform pedestrian 
 feats which would have astonished even a London postman. Five 
 times had Phil to scamper over the ground to Highgate and back, 
 besides having to run as fast as his legs could carry him some dozen 
 times round the heath. Altogether he must have gone over twenty 
 miles of ground. When he returned home at night, his limbs ached 
 with fatigue. 
 
 "Soon get used to it," was the consolation Eedpoll Jack gave 
 him ; " it's only at fust, and afterwards your legs gets as tough as pin- 
 wire." 
 
194 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " It ain't the distance as knocks a fellow up," groaned Phil, " but 
 unless you're running all the time they thinks they're being cheated 
 out of their gallops." 
 
 " Why don't you let 'em think what they likes ?" argued Jack. 
 " They comes out to enjoy theirselves, and is willing and able to be 
 cheated." 
 
 One of the boy's exploits was to go with a party of ladies and gen- 
 tlemen as far as Harrow, a distance which he was afterwards informed 
 " was as close upon thirty miles as they could be made." On the road, 
 the cavalcade stopped at many inns, and the boy was always " remem- 
 bered," and made to drink large quantities of ale. But he had scarcely 
 strength enough to crawl back to Hampstead, and, if he had not held 
 on by the crupper of White Alice, must have dropped. A sure 
 proof that he was thoroughly worn out with fatigue was, that when 
 he reached his lodgings he couldn'lj eat any supper, but fell asleep 
 by the fire where the sausages were cooking. Mrs. Burt woke him up, 
 and shook him until he consented to " take a bit," but, directly she 
 ceased to torment him with her attentions, he dozed away again, 
 though his mouth was full of food. The woman was so astounded at 
 this proof of exhaustion, that with much feeling she exclaimed, 
 " Why, the boy's that worn down with tiredness his victuals is acshly 
 wasted on him. I could a'most believe he'd been hopiumed." 
 
 The next morning, Phil, when he awoke, found his limbs as stiff 
 with the yesterday's toil as if they had been dried and salted. It 
 hurt him to bend his back,, and as for his legs, they resembled stilts 
 more than anything else, and made him " like lame" when he tried to 
 walk. All this he detailed to Swinging Fred, expecting sympathy. 
 But Mr. Jackson was of a coarse nature, and never consoled anybody 
 but himself — thirst being his chief affliction. * Go home to mammy," 
 was Mr. Jackson's sarcastic advice, " and get rubbed with sweet oil. 
 That allers refreshes me most, don't it, Mrs. Suttee ?" Instead of 
 meeting with pity, Phil only got laughed at ; so, in disgust, he walked 
 off in the direction of the Vale of Health, and passed the morn- 
 ing by the ponds, watching the seedling Izaac Waltons angling 
 for sticklebacks among the duckweed and rushes. The excitement 
 of seeing a fish as large as a card-counter jerked out, clinging to the 
 worm, and stowed away in the pickle bottle, soothed him a little. 
 Indeed, before many hours had passed, he volunteered to assist one of 
 the piscatorial infants, taking from him, after a slight struggle, the 
 twig with the yard of string at the end which constituted the rod and 
 line. 
 
 " I've made a mess of it, going to this precious donkey business," 
 thought Phil, as he returned to work in the afternoon. " Here they 
 bully a fellow, and lump him, and thump him. I was at least my own 
 master when I was at crossing- sweeping." 
 
 The inhabitants of London seem madly addicted to donkey- 
 riding. Indeed, such complete sway has this exhilarating exercise 
 over them, that on holidays, such as Good Friday or Whit-Monday, 
 crowds of citizens make their appearance on the heath by twelve 
 o'clock in the day, and the hiring of the animals begins at noon, and 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 195 
 
 continues up to midnight. Mr. Sparkler never conld exactly ac- 
 count for this infatuation, for, as he remarked, " The jackhass ain't 
 very 'ansome to look at, neither is he a rapid performer, nor do the 
 party riding have any appearance as could strictly be called fust-rate 
 aristocrack and fashionable." 
 
 Good Friday had invariably been an immense day for letting. 
 Mr. Sparkler, with his six donkeys, took fifteen pounds, and one man, 
 who had only two animals, earned nearly five sovereigns. So any- 
 body can easily conceive how busy the Hampstead proprietors must 
 have been, and how hard Phil and the other boys were obliged to 
 work. 
 
 The holiday people were pouring on to the heath, all very warm 
 from climbing the hills, but all very good-tempered, and laughing 
 with delight now they had " got there at last." You could tell by the 
 girls' giggling faces that they had come out determined on a romp 
 among the tall ferns and round the furze-bushes. The clean muslin 
 dresses were to be soiled and tumbled till they were not fit to be seen. 
 Most probably gathers would be torn out, and repairs made with pins, 
 before night came. The young men, who now looked so genteel and 
 spruce, would march back to town with their coats off and waistcoats 
 undone, singing in chorus, and carrying boughs of trees or big bundles 
 of buttercups. 
 
 Directly the donkey-stands were visible, everybody began to laugh 
 afresh, and talk of having rides. The little children became un- 
 manageable, pointing at the poor beasts, and crying out that they 
 "wanted them;" big girls, with manly limbs, hinted unmistakably 
 at being treated. Even elderly matrons, stout enough to test the 
 strength of gig springs, did not seem averse to a sixpenny jolt, 
 though, it is true, they simpered modestly when the proposition was 
 made, and said, " Go along I" and " To think, now !" 
 
 The crowd around the donkeys increased every moment, until at 
 last the animals themselves were hidden by the ring fence of petti- 
 coats encircling the stand. Even those who did not intend to be 
 customers felt a pleasure in witnessing the modest strugglings of 
 mounting or the accidents of the start. The road becomes little 
 better than a donkey race- course. The people on the paths seem 
 almost as much amused with the sight as the riders with the exercise. 
 So long as the troop is proceeding in an outward direction, the pace 
 of the animals — except when just started — is easy enough, and there is 
 no difficulty in keeping on. It is at this period of the trip that young 
 ladies endeavour to give the bystanders an idea they are accomplished 
 horsewomen. They rise in the saddle, and hold themselves in an up- 
 right attitude. Some of them will whisper to their friends that they 
 find donkey-riding so different to going on horseback, and hint that, if 
 they were mounted on a fiery, prancing steed, they would be in their 
 glory. And all this time the donkeys, half-concealed under the flow- 
 ing muslin skirts of the maidens, are ambling along at a shuffling, 
 dust-making pace. But how different is it when the heads are turned 
 homewards ! How soon all the harmless bragging is put to the proof I 
 Three or four smart blows send the squadron tearing down the road. 
 
 o2 
 
196 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 The girls scream, and hold on by the pommels ; back hairs come undone, 
 and curls are soon jolted out of place. Bonnets are blown on to the 
 back of the heads, and mantles nearly torn from the neck by the wind. 
 One frightened maiden calls out, as well as the bumping will let her, 
 " Oh ! don't, boy, don't !" and another implores the lad to " make him 
 walk," and yet, between each supplication, comes a burst of laughter ; 
 and they roll about upon the saddle so that the lookers-on are expect- 
 ing every moment to see them fall off. Many rude observations, too, 
 are made by the young gentlemen strolling on the paths. They are 
 particularly delighted if the wind should blow aside the petticoat 
 sufficiently to discover the foot and ankle, for on such occasions they 
 most indelicately shout out, " There's a leg !" Imaginary Christian 
 names, too, are made use of by these rude fellows, and they exclaim, 
 " Oh, Sarah! ain't it nice ?" although, perhaps, they are totally unac- 
 quainted with the young lady, and have never in their lives seen 
 her before. 
 
 Never had Mr. Sparkler been seen in better spirits. He was 
 stuffing the sixpences and shillings into his pocket so fast that he 
 began to doubt if it were in the power of calico to bear such a weight 
 of coin. The young ladies that surrounded him were all grumbling 
 about whose turn it was to have the next ride. No sooner did one 
 party return, than, even before the saddles were emptied of their 
 flushed and tumbled occupants, the animals were seized upon and 
 almost fought for. 
 
 It was as much as Swinging Fred could do to preserve order among 
 the girls, so violent and impatient were they. In vain did he call out, 
 " If you don't hold your tongues, you shan't go at all ;" it had no 
 effect upon the chattering damsels. Five or six of them would attempt 
 at the same time to get on the same saddle ; and, when Mr. Sparkler 
 observed that he " wouldn't have his donkeys' backs broke — no, not 
 to please all the women on hearth," it was fearful to listen to the 
 dreadful quarrels which ensued among the impatient Amazons : how 
 one was called " no lady," another " a high-flown runt," whilst a third 
 was declared to have " too much presumptiousness to be pleasing." 
 
 On such a day as this, prices rose. The ride which, on ordinary 
 occasions, cost sixpence, was in great request at ninepence. The 
 donkey market, like all others, follows the law of demand and supply. 
 The boys, too, were ordered to forget their moral trainings, and in- 
 structed to cheat the distance as much as they could ; and many an 
 imprudent party that, before starting, had paid their two shillings a 
 head for a trip to Highgate, were disgusted to find that, before they 
 had gone one-third the distance, the order was given to return. 
 "Why, you're not going to call this Highgate ?" one young damsel 
 would, with great indignation, exclaim. — " It's been Highgate as long 
 as I ever knowed it," Master Curt would reply. "What did he care 
 when all the young women screamed out, in every tone of voice, " We 
 insist upon going farther ?" He did not even pay the slightest atten- 
 tion to their commands, but turned the donkeys round, and sent them 
 galloping homewards at such a pace that the maidens were obliged to 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 197 
 
 give over the dispute, and devote their entire attention to preventing 
 themselves from being tossed off the saddle. 
 
 How many dreadful accidents did Phil have to witness in the course 
 of these holiday experiences ! And with how many sixpences was 
 he bribed not to say anything about these fearful occurrences! 
 Some young ladies would be so overcome with laughter that they be- 
 came completely helpless and limp, and would fall backwards as if 
 they had been on a sofa instead of a saddle. Others would have their 
 gowns torn to pieces by the hoofs of their steeds, and be forced to 
 return to their friends in petticoats of remarkable shortness, which 
 set off to great advantage the black sandal crossing over the open- 
 work stocking. 
 
 Sometimes gentlemen, of such lax morality that they had permitted 
 themselves to indulge too largely in ardent drinks, would undertake 
 to escort ladies on their sixpenny excursions. Their grotesque be- 
 haviour in the saddle, their wild shoutings and unsteadiness of jockey- 
 ship, added considerably to the hilarity of the multitude. 
 
 Perhaps Mr. Sparkler was wrong in letting out his donkeys to 
 such disorderly persons, but his excuse was, that, although they ill- 
 used the animals shamefully, yet they paid him like princes — very 
 often in the obliquity of their senses giving twice the sum they had 
 bargained for. The way of the world — the donkeys receive the blows 
 and the Sparklers take the salve. 
 
 And so these jolly days passed, the whole heath ringing with 
 laughter, and everybody almost wild with enjoyment, as if people came 
 to Hampstead not merely to taste pleasure, but to gorge and gluttonise 
 on it. "What would become of London without this large playground 
 for its children to sport in and scamper over ? "Would they, do you 
 think, remain quietly at their lessons of daily toil, and patiently get 
 through their tasks of hard industry, unless there were some such 
 place as this big heath to remind them that they may sometimes be 
 happy and at liberty ? It does the heart good to hear their noisy 
 mirth ; their playfulness is that of a colt turned out to grass ; they are 
 as wild with the freedom as a house-dog when its chain is unfastened. 
 The pure air is stimulating as wine, and, whilst drinking it in, they 
 giggle and royster like topers. Those who object to the jovial uproar 
 should be put upon the same short-commons of pleasure as that which 
 destiny has portioned out to these holiday revellers, and they would 
 soon discover that when only one day is allowed to gather in the 
 crop of enjoyment which is, perhaps, to serve for months, such a 
 harvest-home must be wild and noisy. 
 
 When evening came, and the big city in the distance was speckled 
 with lights — when the men had spent their money, and the women 
 had tired out their animal spirits — the crowd began to quit the heath. 
 Then the saddles were taken off, and the worn-out donkeys turned 
 loose to see if they could find enough untrodden grass to serve for 
 their suppers. 
 
 Although so fatigued that he could scarcely keep his eyes open, 
 Philip would still have strength enough left to sit up in his bed, and 
 count the money that had been given to him for his day's work. 
 
198 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Out of the six or seven shillings he might have earned he would put 
 aside the greater portion. for the repayment of the amouut he owed 
 Bertha. He still had some notions of honour in him, although 
 how they remained in his heart, after the life he had led, it is im- 
 possible to tell. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 SHOWING THAT CAPTAIN CROSIER HAD NO IDEA OF THE VALUE OF MONEY. 
 
 Oe all things that are expensive there is nothing which costs more 
 to keep than late hours. For the same money which the wild youth 
 squanders for the luxury of walking the streets until the gasman 
 makes his rounds to put out the lamps, he might revel in many of 
 those fashionable delights which the opinion of the world has long 
 since declared to be the end and perfection of happiness. 
 
 How many good sovereigns had Captain Crosier, in two short years, 
 squandered by keeping these late hours ! If he had laid down a guinea 
 for every paving-stone in the Haymarket footway he would still have 
 been in pocket. Short as the journey is down that mad thorough- 
 fare, it is more expensive to the traveller than if he posted to 
 York and back. Many a time, when the captain, on reaching home, 
 emptied his pockets of the few shillings that remained from the 
 round sum he had provided himself with before starting on his mid- 
 night adventures — many a time did he feel some remorse at the 
 largeness of his expenditure, and the inadequacy of the amusement. 
 He would look wistfully at the few shillings left, and some such 
 regrets as these would pass through his mind : " What the deuce can 
 I have done with my money ? I am certain I took out four pounds 
 with me, and yet here are but eight shillings left !" Then he would 
 begin his accounts, adding up what it had cost him for supper, how 
 much he had given away in shillings for cabs, or spent in bouquets 
 for gifts, or laid out in treating to drinks at public-houses. Then he 
 would grow repentant, and, regretting his extravagance, think what 
 he might have bought with the same sum had he laid it out virtuously. 
 " It is too bad," he would mutter. " There are many poor fellows who 
 have to keep a family on a pound a week, and here am I fooling away 
 four or five pounds every night of my life — and what for ? what for ? 
 How on earth do those poor clerks in the City manage to live on 
 eighty pounds a year ? "Why, many fellows reckon themselves to be 
 well off who do not get more in a week than 1 throw away in a 
 night !" After such meditations as these, the repentant captain would 
 vow "to cut such d — d stupid work," and for the future renounce 
 his midnight extravagances. As he had made this vow regularly 
 every night for the last two years, it is but fair to presume that he 
 was very earnest in what he said. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 199 
 
 The only drawback to these resolves was that they were taken at a 
 time when the gallant youth was depressed with his excesses. After 
 he had been refreshed with sleep, he found his animal spirits and 
 strength restored him, and invariably forgot to follow the good 
 advice with which he had physicked his morals overnight. He had 
 grown so accustomed to his debauched mode of living, that to miss 
 the sport of the Haymarket would have cost him as much pain as for 
 an opium-eater to forego the intoxication of his drug. Even up to 
 his dinner-hour he might remain true to his good intention of stop- 
 piug at home ; but when his pint of sherry was empty, and he was 
 yielding himself up to the pleasant consequences of a good dinner, his 
 notions of right would lose their virtuous stiffness, and eventually 
 disappear before the philosophical arguments which he conjured up 
 in favour of one night more on town. He would discover that an 
 entire evening passed in that dismal room of his, with no other 
 company than his own, was more than his nerves' could endure. He 
 had a mean opinion of his own company. He would say to himself, 
 " Where is the difference between walking in the streets abroad, or 
 sitting in your chair at home ? If I don't spend any money it comes 
 to the same thing. I'll just stroll about for an hour or two, and then 
 creep home quietly to bed." But with Btrolling about came chatting 
 with friends and visiting taverns. The stiffest buckram virtue grows 
 limp when full tumblers are emptied over it. In a little time, the 
 captain, loosening his moral stays, and throwing off his top-coat of 
 virtue, became reckless. As he grew more and more full of drink his 
 laughter came floating up on the top of it. He would become the 
 gayest of all the gay young dogs that were jingling their coin on the 
 counters of the night-houses. 
 
 They are, indeed, expensive to keep, these late hours. The cap- 
 tain one day made a calculation that, up to twelve o'clock, late hours 
 might be done well for a sovereign, but every hour beyond cost, at a 
 moderate calculation, an additional twenty shillings. For the same 
 sum what might he not have done ? He might have gained the affec- 
 tion of his friends by giving a dinner party at least twice a week. 
 Two noble-legged footmen, with canary thighs, glittering like gold 
 foil, might have imparted a lustre to his establishment. He might 
 have had his Opera-box, his shooting-box, his money-box, and every 
 other kind of box. Instead of jobbing a cab, a mail phaeton, with 
 his crest as big as a kitchen plate, might be standing in his own 
 coach-house. We will not mention spanking greys with streaming 
 comet tails, nor the natty brougham with electrical lamps to fetch 
 him home from the evening parties to which he would be most cer- 
 tainly invited. Even the luxury of a French cook was within his 
 grasp. With such advantages as these, who could limit the good 
 fortune that would be in store for him ? The saloons and casinos would 
 give place to banquet halls, ball-rooms, and dancing teas. He might 
 have his pick among the evening party heiresses. Every low-neck 
 dress would adore him. Perhaps he might make so brilliant a match 
 that his wife's income would permit him even to quarrel with his own 
 father, and, without caring for the paternal allowance, still to live in 
 the utmost extravagance and profusion. 
 
200 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 "We say lie might have done this, though there was this drawback 
 to our speculations. If his father had heard of any such grandeur of 
 living, there would have been much commotion among the Crosier 
 family, and letters with the Swanborough post-mark upon them would 
 frequently be laid upon the breakfast-table — " Tour affectionate 
 father, Nathaniel Crosier," would descant upon " my dear Merton's" 
 unwarrantable expenditure. This would considerably have diminished 
 the satisfaction produced by the different kinds of boxes, the canary 
 breeches, and day and night vehicles. 
 
 The income of the gallant captain might be some 500Z. a year, 
 including quarterly allowances of 100 1, each, and the presents with 
 which a rich aunt and a prosperous uncle chose to celebrate his birth- 
 day and cheer his Christmas. 
 
 Whenever we hear anybody abusing the world, and calling it such 
 names as a hard-hearted and cruel world, an ungrateful world, we 
 always think of the gallant Merton, and the kindly mundane treat- 
 ment he met with. Although his income was a small one, yet with 
 it he was enabled to live at a rate of three times its amount. There 
 are certain generous-hearted creatures ever willing to take pity on the 
 gay necessities of the frisky young. If this son had written to his 
 father, beseeching the advance of a hundred or so, his prayers would 
 have been listened to with no more success than if he had petitioned 
 for a couple of the paternal front teeth. So, instead of disturbing 
 papa's quiet, Merton, whenever the sovereigns were scarce, put on 
 his hat, and paid a visit to a friend of his in Holborn. There, by merely 
 signing a simple strip of paper — he wrote very rapidly — he could 
 touch almost any sum he required. 
 
 The name of this open-hearted and open-pursed Christian was 
 Edward Dancer, and, if easing the afflicted mind, or assuaging the 
 griefs of our fellow-creatures be a merit, this worthy man must be 
 entitled to infinite respect. All he asked for was security, and all he 
 took was interest. 
 
 Between the shops kept by one Bumprel, a hosier, and one Brown, 
 a stationer, there is a small iron wicket leading into a court or blind 
 alley, of a most dismal and deserted appearance. It is a mere fissure 
 in the bricken mass of closely-packed houses, and does not contain 
 above a dozen dwellings — a wretched rat-hole of a place, with a look 
 of old-building materials about it. It is decidedly a bad letting 
 property, and the landlord, if he lives on the rents, must be a needy 
 man, for none of the dwellings — except Dancer's — appear to be oc- 
 cupied. Apparently no exertions are made to find tenants, for, as if 
 it were looked upon as a useless expense, no bills or boards are up. 
 Supposing that some misanthrope, charmed with the seclusion of the 
 place, wished " to take on lease," he would not know where to apply 
 and get cards to view. It is a spot where a distempered dog would 
 hide itself to shiver in peace till it died. The window-panes are whitey- 
 brown with dust and the knockers red and crumbling with oxide, for 
 no hand ever rat-tats there and preserves the metal with its friction. 
 The bricks are dirty and smooth with the soot that has settled on 
 their rough surfaces, and the white lines of the mortar have been 
 smudged out. Many a time did the captain wonder to himself 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 201 
 
 whether any other than Dancer dared to live in this court. He has 
 seen the same big whitewashed " TO LET " on the same window at 
 No. 4 during the two years he has had occasion to visit the spot. The 
 milky purity of the letters has turned to a rich neutral tint, and prove 
 the great age of the inscription. On one door, with the paint blis- 
 tered as the top of a pie, there is a brass-plate. It is not seen at 
 first, because the once glittering surface is now rusted of a deep 
 pink brown. In that house the fortunes of "Fergusson and Co., 
 Agents and Coal Merchants," were wrecked. The firm undoubtedly 
 bolted. Further on, No. 6 has been afflicted with weakness, and 
 shoring-up has been applied to its front. The rotten bandbox of a 
 house bulges out, and wide cracks meander among the bricks, in some 
 parts so open that a city sparrow has built itself a most conveniently 
 situated nest. 
 
 Bagged, yellow bits of blind hang slantways in some of the win- 
 dows, and for years they have never been either pulled up or drawn 
 down, but have remained as they were when Captain Crosier first saw 
 them. Even the flagstones to this bad alley are cracked, and in some 
 places so uneven that with every shower the hollows are filled up with 
 puddles, in which bits of paper are trapped like flies on a " catch-'em- 
 alive." Some of the flagstones are what street boys call u squirters," 
 that is, they secrete under them a considerable quantity of dirty 
 water, which, on the pressure of a foot, they yield up, by squirting it 
 over the owner of the foot. Squirters are dreadful things. Indeed, 
 it was a very dirty walk up this court, and all Mr. Dancer's friends 
 thought so ; but gentlemen in want of money do not mind a little 
 mud in their path, so they put up with the annoyance. 
 
 About every two months the captain would find himself swinging 
 back the iron gate at the entrance of the alley. His face, when he 
 entered, had a meek, downcast expression, owing, probably, to the 
 doubts in his mind as to whether he should be able " to get anything 
 out of old Dancer." His bearing on these occasions had lost its in- 
 dependence and boldness. He seemed afraid of doing anything that 
 would be likely to offend Dancer. He shut the iron gate very care- 
 fully, for fear its clatter should disturb Dancer. Even when he 
 knocked at the bill-discounter's door, instead of giving a vigorous 
 treble rattle, he modulated the knock to a gentleness, almost as if 
 Dancer had been ill. 
 
 To look at this rich man, nobody would have judged him capable 
 of the kindness and humanity his necessitous visitors never ceased to 
 extol during their interviews. He was a thin, diminutive creature, 
 with a face of the colour of a dried fig ; and, but for the quick expres- 
 sion of his eyes, his countenance had an idiotic blankness. He was 
 so thin, that his clothes puffed him out as feathers do a bird. At a 
 watering-place, such a man would never have dared to bathe in public. 
 As there were always medicine-bottles on his mantelshelf, it was 
 evident that Dancer's health was not good. "When such big fellows as 
 Captain Merton called to see him, the little man had to look up at 
 them, and squirt his thin voice up to their ears. Or if, as he usually 
 did, he skipped on to a high stool, his little legs swung about, and he 
 seemed like a parrot on its stand. Not unfrequently Crosier thought 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 to himself what a capital jockey Dancer would have made, but he did 
 not like to say as much, for fear the small man should dislike the 
 observation, and the interest be " stuck on " in consequence. 
 
 This diminutive money-lender did an excellent business, and was 
 intimate with a great many noble persons whom nobody would have 
 suspected of ever requiring to be accommodated. Whilst the cap- 
 tain was waiting in the parlour for his interview, he would often hear 
 Dancer's small pipe above stairs squalling out excuses to a gruff voice 
 which he recognised as that of a friend he should never have imagined 
 " to be hard up." He had seen Lord Oaks pass by the window as 
 that noble lord left the ready-money sanctum, and had frequently 
 noticed Charley Sutton's cab waiting outside Furnival's Inn, though 
 the gay spark, far from having any business with the residents of that 
 legal colony, had crossed the road, and trotted slyly up to Dancer's 
 doorway. 
 
 One morning, Captain Crosier, on sending a cheque to his bankers 
 for ten pounds, had received the distressing answer that he had over- 
 drawn his account; whenever this sad event occurred, it was his 
 custom to pay a visit to his accommodating little friend in Holborn. 
 
 He found the little man as affable and chatty as ever. They had 
 some delightful conversation about the great scarcity of money, and 
 the enormous rate to which interest had gone up. In a most familiar 
 manner, Dancer asked him to sit down for a few moments, and gave 
 some directions to his clerk, while Merton, who was very affable, 
 read the paper, and did as he was told. 
 
 For the office of so rich a man as Mr. Dancer, it was decidedly the 
 most miserable hole of a place imaginable. There was not in the 
 entire house a patch of French polish, or varnish, as big as even its 
 owner's dwarfed hand. The desk ruler and the leathern top of the 
 clerk's stool were the brightest things to be seen. To a nervous 
 man sadly in want of money the dismal look of the dwelling was 
 enough to crush and pound to dust the smallest pebble of hope. 
 
 The staircase leading up to the " cheque" room was dark and rotten, 
 and those ascending had to be cautioned to "mind their heads," and 
 warned that "there was another step there." The diminutive Dancer 
 could go up and down as easily as a rat through a drain, but any one 
 above four feet had to stoop and crouch, in dread of knocks, bumps, 
 and crushed hats. The sanctum itself had but little furniture in it, 
 and looked as wretched as if the wealthy Mr. Dancer was the most 
 incorrigible insolvent in the kingdom. One farthing a yard was the 
 price he had paid for the paper on the walls. The red-lead roses fes- 
 tooned into the design had a poisonous, deadly look, and smelt of 
 mould instead of attar. It was a relief to turn one's eyes from these 
 flowers to the Law Almanack hanging over the fireplace, and to stare 
 at the legal notices relating to Judges' Chambers and term times. 
 Even men who had come there to ask for grace, preferred the law papers 
 to the roses, despite the ideas they evoked of writs and Whitecross- 
 street. "With such a multiplicity of business, a man like Mr. Dancer 
 had to write numberless letters, and files of them, alphabetically 
 arranged, were hung round the room. Merton knew that his own 
 important correspondence was among the " C " s. There was a 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 203 
 
 tall desk in one corner where the clerk wrote out renewals of 
 bills, and filled up judgments, and post-obits. Before the grate was 
 Mr. Dancer's own table, with the big, brass-bound writing-desk, 
 under whose green-baize top reposed the delicious cheque-book, a leaf 
 of which every- visitor hoped to take away with him. The most un- 
 mistakable object in the room was an iron chest, almost large enough 
 to have served as a prison for Mr. Dancer himself. Even the terrible 
 Queen's Bench did not contain more captives than that strong box. 
 Whenever its iron gates were opened, it was either to admit a fresh 
 captive, or move one to safer custody than that of gaoler Dancer. 
 
 It was a very fortunate circumstance that the money-lender's health 
 was failing, because it afforded his visitors an excellent subject of 
 conversation. No man was ever more commiserated than the little 
 money-lender. Some of his clients — especially those doubtful of suc- 
 cess — would go into paroxysms of pity as the discounter particu- 
 larised his ailments; indeed, any one would have fancied that they, 
 and not Mr. Dancer, were the afflicted beings. 
 
 "You really should take care of yourself," said Captain Crosier, on 
 this particular occasion. " JN"ow, do promise me, like a good fellow, 
 that you'll go to some first-rate doctor. You ought to ; in fact, for 
 our sakes, you must." 
 
 " I've tried them all, every man in London," squeaked the money- 
 lender. " I've spent pounds on pounds, and they tell me I'm incur- 
 able. If I hadn't a cast-iron constitution, I couldn't stand against it." 
 As a proof of this, he began a minute account of some particular phase 
 of his malady, which had such an effect upon the sympathetic Merton, 
 that he seemed in an agony of sorrow. But the real truth was that 
 Merton was only trying to soften the discounter's heart, and cared no 
 more what became of him, provided he could get his cheque, than you 
 do for the shells of an oyster, after you have eaten the peppered and 
 vinegared bivalve. 
 
 In all the visits paid to this little man, every client had to go 
 through a set scene before he could touch his cheque. The moment 
 the little bit of paper was mentioned, Mr. Dancer, although he lived 
 by, and made an excellent income out of, such transactions, appeared 
 to be annoyed by the proposition. He would throw up his eyebrows 
 and say, " Money ! I wish you'd tell me where I could get some ! I 
 don't believe there's any money left in the world." To prepare the 
 way for asking a thumping discount, he would tell anecdotes of how 
 he himself 'took a batch of bills to the celebrated City firm of Coin, 
 Bullion, and Co., and how they would not even look at them. " I 
 saw Orr myself, and pressed him deuced hard. It was only a bill for 
 two hundred, and, says he, ' Has she got the name of the Bank of Eng- 
 land on her ? Why, then, take her away, for I won't touch her.' 
 There, that will show you how scarce money is." 
 
 When the captain still pressed him, and called him "good fellow," 
 and " dear friend," or condescended to other familiar expressions which 
 he considered should — coming from a man of his position — be irre- 
 sistible, the diminutive Edward whined as if his heart were breaking 
 at being obliged to refuse, although he still managed to be stubborn. 
 He went to the iron chest,- and, unlocking it, drew out a bundle. 
 
204 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Then he commenced this sermon : — " Look here, captain ! do you see 
 this ? There's four thousand pounds' worth of paper here, and I'll 
 sell it you for twenty shillings. Now, will you believe I've no 
 money ?" 
 
 It was his habit then to fling this bundle indignantly back to its 
 pigeon-hole, and sigh deeply as he locked the doors of its prison. 
 
 "Any of mine among 'em?" asked Captain Crosier, sarcastically. 
 " What have I got to do with other people's debts ?" 
 
 " Why don't you go to Eobins ?" pleaded Mr. Dancer. " He'd 
 only charge you sixty per cent., and I'm sure it ain't too much, as 
 times go." 
 
 " Eobins be hanged !" growled the captain, who was now on the 
 indignant tack. 
 
 "If you can get me the name of a good firm on the back of this 
 bill, I don't mind seeing what I can do," groaned the little man. 
 
 " My good fellow ! under those circumstances I should pay it into 
 my banker's," snappishly answered the captain. " It's a good bill aa 
 it is, and, if you don't like to do it, you may let it alone." 
 
 So well did Captain Crosier understand Mr. Dancer's policy, that 
 even the most decided refusals did not put an end to the ne- 
 gotiation. It was a fight of diplomacy between them, the captain 
 pleading hardest when the money-lender most seemed to draw back, 
 and the latter throwing out some words of hope, and appearing to 
 relent whenever Merton evinced a disposition to give the matter up 
 as a bad job. During the acting of this scene, Mr. Dancer was so 
 greatly affected that it brought back a return of his illness, and he 
 had to take a dose from a bottle containing a dark-brown fluid — 
 evidently a tincture, for it smelt strongly of alcohol. This appeared 
 to relieve him, for presently he exclaimed, " How much have you had 
 from me ?" though he knew the amount well enough, and merely as 
 a matter of form turned over the leaves of a ledger at his elbow. 
 " Three thousand four hundred pounds ! That's a large sum of money. 
 And what security have I got for it ? None !" 
 
 There is never more necessity for a man to be upon his guard than 
 when his companion says, whilst discussing, " Now let us speak plainly, 
 and understand one another." It is an acknowledgment that hitherto 
 the latter has acted with duplicity. As he has done so with a show 
 of straightforward conduct, it is certain that the words to come will 
 not be less doubtful than those that have already been spoken. So, 
 when Captain Crosier made this exclamation, Mr. Dancer, who knew 
 the world thoroughly, was not one whit the more inclined to place 
 implicit confidence in his client. He nevertheless assumed an air in- 
 dicative of the most entire trust. 
 
 " I owe you three thousand four hundred pounds, don't I ?" said 
 the captain, in his frankest tones, "and you've got, besides my 
 bills for the amount, post-obits on my father. You know my old 
 man is as rich as he can be. You've made inquiries about that. Now, 
 I want five hundred more, and, if you don't like to do it, say so. Let's 
 have no beating about the bush. D — n it ! I like plain dealing. Will 
 you, or won't you ?" 
 
 The money-lender, who had all along made up his mind to entertain 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 205 
 
 this transaction, nevertheless blew out a thin whistle of surprise when 
 he heard five hundred pounds mentioned. He had made inquiries 
 about Mr. Crosier, senior, and his agent at Swanborough had sent 
 back a most excellent account of that banker's wealth and stability, 
 adding, in answer to one of the inquiries, " He is sixty-seven years 
 old, and under medical treatment." 
 
 "When he heard the whistle, Captain Crosier took up his hat, as if 
 with the intention to depart, saying, although it was a mere invention 
 of his, "Then, if you won't, I know somebody that will." 
 
 " Now, don't be in a hurry. You fellows in the army are so 
 impetuous," interfered Mr. Dancer. A fresh negotiation was opened, 
 in which the one sought to decrease the amount required to three hun- 
 dred pounds, while the other as strenuously insisted on the sum first 
 demanded. At last the matter ended by the clerk being sent to the 
 bank to inquire what balance there remained to the account of Edward 
 Dancer. This was only an excuse to delay proceedings, and to afford 
 the little gentleman an opportunity of turning over another honest 
 penny. So well did the clerk understand the business, that, instead 
 of going to the bank, he went to the King's Head, close by, and re- 
 galed himself with a glass of mild ale. As the street door slammed 
 to, Mr. Dancer smiled upon Merton, and in a kind voice said, " If 
 you are fond of pictures, I'll give you a treat. I've got a Eubens 
 up-stairs — one of the loveliest things you ever saw." 
 
 This was an old trick, and the captain knew it well — indeed, 
 expected it. Nevertheless, he pretended great astonishment and de- 
 light, and hinted that the greatest enjoyment of his life was to see a 
 good picture. "You don't mean to say you've got a Rubens?" he 
 said, opening his eyes with assumed wonder. " Why don't you take 
 it to the National Gallery ? How that man Eubens must have 
 painted ! Why, his pictures are everywhere. Let's have a look 
 at it." 
 
 An old canvas, which in Wardour-steet would have been labelled, 
 "A genuine Eubens, 30s.," was brought down from a room above, 
 and the little fox, wiping it with his silk pocket-handkerchief, and 
 saying, "It's a beautiful thing — very -first-rate indeed," held it close 
 to the window. The big fox looked at it for some time admiringly, 
 and then, as if he could no longer contain his enthusiasm, cried out, 
 " By G- — d! it's lovely." The little fox laughed, and, in a confiden- 
 tial whisper, said, "And the fellow who owns it doesn't know its 
 real value — that's the beauty of the thing! He only wants thirty 
 pounds." The big fox thought the proprietor not only knew the 
 real value, but had the impudence of Old Harry himself in fixing 
 such a fictitious one. 
 
 " There's flesh !" cried the money-lender. " You might slap that 
 arm, I declare you might ! I wouldn't sell it if I wasn't a married 
 man, but Mrs. Dancer is so particular about academic studies. A 
 surgeon could almost cut those legs off! — couldn't he ? Just look at 
 this Yenus. Isn't she Eubens all over ?" 
 
 The captain thought to himself she was not only Eubens all over, 
 but somebody else into the bargain, but he did not say so. 
 
 When the clerk had finished his ale, he left the King's Head 
 
206 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 and returned to his master to whisper something in his ear. All 
 this the captain watched most anxiously, and when he saw the little 
 fox open his desk and take out his cheque-book, he felt as if an iron 
 hoop had been removed from his chest, so great was the relief. 
 
 " It appears I've just got money enough," said Mr. Dancer, sigh- 
 ing. Then, in a livelier tone, he added, " "Would you like to have 
 that picture, captain ?" Now they again began to fence, the soldier 
 
 saying, "It was a sweet thing, but " and the civilian endeavouring to 
 
 convince him into buying it by relating an anecdote of a certain lucky 
 individual, who, having purchased a Correggio for 8s., afterwards sold 
 it to the nation for 20,000Z. But all this was perfectly understood 
 by the big fox. Before giving a decided answer, he inquired, " What 
 are you going to charge me for interest ?" 
 
 " Well, I shall take a hundred for the three months, and I don't 
 care much about doing it at that," replied the little man. 
 
 "If you like to take 151. for the d — d painting, I'll buy it," offered 
 the borrower. 
 
 "Fifteen pounds!" exclaimed the lender, pushing his cheque- 
 book away.- " With that flesh ! Fifteen pounds ! Why it would 
 fetch more in a slave-market. No ! no ! captain. Say five-and- 
 twenty, if you like." And the cheque was drawn. 
 
 Now, although the captain had entered the court meekly enough, 
 his head was remarkably high as he left it. Whenever his pocket 
 was full of money he had courage enough to stare an eagle to blind- 
 ness. He swore at the puddles he had before modestly stepped over, 
 and swung-to the gate after him with the clatter of a regiment rattling 
 ramrods down their musket-barrels. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 We have said that Phil still had some notions of honour left 
 in him, and we will prove it. He knew very well that Bertha never 
 expected to see again the seventeen shillings she had lent him to buy 
 decent clothing before he entered the service of Mr. Tobias Sparkler. 
 He knew very well, too, that she — timid little girl — would never 
 mention the subject to him. The debt was, therefore, so far as 
 being bothered about it, as good as paid. She looked upon it as a gift, 
 but not so he. Perhaps he wanted to regain" her esteem, and to 
 coax her to forget his crossing-sweeping life. Perhaps the fact of 
 knowing she never dreamt of seeing her money again, made him 
 stubbornly honest. But whatever the reason may have been, Phil's 
 resolves of repayment were virtuous and good, and he is entitled to 
 the full benefit of them ; indeed, we hope that every one will applaud 
 his excellent determinations. 
 
 
PAVED WITH &OLD. 207 
 
 He made Mrs. Burt his banker, and whenever he could scrape to- 
 gether sixpence, he paid it into her very large hands. Had he tried 
 to keep it himself, he knew he must spend it, for he was a reckless 
 young scamp with his wealth ; a strong yearning for fruit-pies and a 
 passion for pitch-and-toss were his ruin. When he had accumu- 
 lated the seventeen shillings, he begged a day of Mr. Sparkler, and 
 before seven o'clock in the morning he was ringing at Miss Tomsey's 
 area bell, already enjoying in advance the look of astonishment he felt 
 certain Bertha would give when he handed back the loan. 
 
 The chin of that faithful domestic, Mr. Boxer, was every morning 
 remarkable for its blackness. Being of a fat, oily temperament, his 
 beard grew with a mustard-and-cress rapidity. It was a stubborn 
 bristle of metallic toughness. When he lounged out into the area 
 to inquire what the " young man" wanted, his shirt-collar was open, 
 and exhibited a throat and jaw which, had he been a rabbit, would 
 have rendered him invaluable as a fine double smut. Without any 
 reason, Mr. Boxer behaved insultingly to Phil. He refused to tell 
 Bertha that a party, whose name didn't matter, wanted to say a 
 word to her. He stared, and hummed (incorrectly) a popular air. 
 Our lad understood that this rudeness was not intended for him per- 
 sonally, but merely because he was a friend of Bertha. To be re- 
 venged, he criticised the footman's dirty chin, asking him, innocently, 
 what he'd got there, and whether it was all real, or only a wig for morn- 
 ings ? He also inquired if it hurt, and offered to buy it, if it wasn't 
 too dear, and could be done up in a small parcel. When the enraged 
 footman seized a lump of coal to throw at his juvenile tormentor, 
 the lad changed his tone, and expressed his astonishment that Mr. 
 Boxer should so soon have forgotten his face after the merry night 
 they spent together picnicking at Hampstead. He also inquired 
 kindly after Mrs. Wortey and the girls. This caused a great alteration 
 in Mr. B.'s manner. He was defeated, and acknowledged it by open- 
 ing the street door. 
 
 Dressed in the neatest and crispest of cotton gowns, came Bertha, 
 with a face as bright as the morning itself. She had made up her 
 mind that Phil had got into trouble again, and was prepared to 
 console him. But his eyes were laughing, and good news was written 
 on every feature of his face. There was no trouble there. He took 
 her hand, and, slipping the money into it, said, "There, Bertha, 
 there's seventeen shillings, and all good ones, so you needn't bite 'em. 
 Now we're quits as far as money goes, but if you think I'd ever forget 
 what you've done, then you wrong me." 
 
 She was so startled she couldn't close her fingers on the money, 
 but continued to look in wonder, first at it, then at him. Her large 
 eyes opened more and more widely. He understood her thoughts, 
 and said, half reproachingly, " You never expected to see it again, 
 did you ? Well, it was natural. I don't blame you — not I ; but, 
 upon my civy, sooner than rob you, Bertha, I'd steal halfpence from 
 a blind man's tray — that's truth." 
 
 "It wouldn't have been robbery, you silly Phil, for I gave it you," 
 was the answer. 
 
 But he would not let it be understood in that light. " No ! what 
 
208 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 should you give your money to me for ? I'm stronger than you a 
 precious deal, for you're a girl, and I'm better able to work. No ; if 
 there's any giving to be done, it should be with me ; and I will, 
 too." And then, forgetting what trouble it had cost him to scrape 
 together these savings, he, in the enthusiasm of the moment, pro- 
 mised that every month he would lay by a round sum ; indeed, 
 he pledged himself to the amount of ten shillings monthly, to be 
 expended in bettering the condition of Nurse Hazlewood. 
 
 The sister, in her anxiety to learn if Phil's morals had improved, 
 examined him at great length as to what he had been about, and how 
 he had spent his time. Our young gentleman was sufficiently know- 
 ing to see the drift of this inquiry ; and so well did he account 
 for himself, that Bertha must, indeed, have been hard to please if she 
 had not approved of the course of life he vowed he had led. When 
 the time came to say good-by, Bertha kissed him so affectionately, 
 and expressed herself so gratefully for her foster-brother's reforma- 
 tion, that the boy, intoxicated with the sweets of praise, felt sorry 
 he had partly imposed upon her belief. Knowing he had cheated 
 her, he resolved that, for mere honesty's sake, he would make up the 
 balance of virtue with which she had credited him. 
 
 It was but nine o'clock in the morning when this audience was 
 over. With half-a-crown in his pocket, and the whole day before 
 him, he determined to revel in a holiday of idleness. He visited all 
 the old scenes of his crossing- sweeping adventures. He strolled 
 about the Haymarket, and felt great enjoyment in calling to mind the 
 different pranks he had played before this or that shop, and the 
 narrow escapes of being locked up he had run in this or that street. 
 Thinking that, perhaps, he might meet with some of his old friends, 
 he went towards St. Martin's Church, and strolled about the passage 
 leading to the Lowther Arcade. He inquired tenderly after the rips 
 of the old woman at the apple-stall, and from her learned that Captain 
 Drake had retired from the profession, on account of his increased 
 stature putting an end to his success as a cat en- wheeler. Mr. Mike 
 had got himself into trouble, and was then spending three weeks 
 with the governor of Coldbath-fields, charged with highway robbery, 
 he having forcibly taken a penny from a little girl who had been sent 
 to fetch milk. This conversation with the apple-woman so affected 
 Phil, that he determined to wait till his old companions should come 
 to their crossings. He thought it would be ungrateful if he did not 
 share his half-crown][with them in beer and pudding. As these young 
 sweepers seldom rose before twelve, he loitered about. 
 
 Now there is no place in the world more dangerous to loiterers 
 than London. Where everybody is so busy, for a boy to be seen 
 standing idly is to invite mischief. Little did he think when he made 
 up his mind for a day's pleasure how suddenly his amusement would 
 be ended. He had twice witnessed the gratuitous performance of 
 Punch, and had examined attentively every article of jewellery in a 
 mosaic-goldsmith's window, when, just as he was wishing " those 
 chaps" would make haste, somebody touched him on the back, and 
 asked him if he wanted a job. 
 
 It was a gentleman with an enormous beard, who spoke with a 
 
 i 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 209 
 
 slightly foreign accent. He seemed rather startled when Phil turned 
 round to accept his offer. He drew back as if he knew the lad, who, 
 on his part, appeared also to have some remembrance of the gentleman. 
 If it had not been for the enormous beard, he might have passed for 
 the French officer who had visited Hampstead with Helen Crosier's 
 brother and father. The foreign gentleman at first repented of his 
 offer, and said, " No, nevar mind, my boie." He was going away, 
 when, on second thoughts, he turned back, and once more opened nego- 
 tiations, muttering, " Well, yas — very well, sen — you shall." Taking 
 him up a deserted street, he placed a cheque in Phil's hands, and 
 directed him to take it, together with a red linen bag which he gave 
 him, to the banking-house of Messrs. Coutts and Co. " Sey will 
 put someting in se bag, which you shall bring to me in five minutes, 
 here. Do sis, and I will give you ten shilling, my good boie." He 
 patted Phil's head, and smiled till his teeth showed through his black 
 beard white as linen through a hedge. 
 
 " Who shall I say I come from ?" asked Phil, fancying himself the 
 luckiest fellow in the world. The foreigner thought for a moment, 
 and then handed a card, on which was engraved, " Alphonse Lerou- 
 ville et C ie , Lyons and London," once more patted the boy on the back, 
 and dismissed him on his errand. 
 
 Innocent of what he was about to do, Phil entered the banking- 
 house, and presented the cheque to the first person he saw, who hap- 
 pened to be the doorkeeper. He was directed to take his turn after 
 some eight or nine others, standing in a line by the counter behind 
 which was the pay-clerk. 
 
 What a land of dreams this banking-house seemed. The only 
 sound was that of the ringing of gold or the rustling of silver paper. 
 Money appeared to lose half its value by being seen in such vast 
 quantities. The gentleman behind the counter absorbed all Phil's 
 attention. He beheld him take out shovelfuls of gold and throw them 
 about as if they had been lozenges instead of sovereigns. It was as 
 if bins of coin were hidden behind the mahogany. He was delighted, 
 too, at the rapidity with which the clerk counted the pieces, moving 
 his fingers as quickly as the paws of a terrier scratching at a rat-hole. 
 How carelessly, too, the bald-headed gentleman seemed to handle 
 a quire of notes. If they had been curl-papers he could not have 
 treated them with less concern. He wetted his finger, and turned 
 them over most roughly, or held them up to the light, and jerked 
 them about till they snapped like straps. The boy was in an agony 
 lest he should tear them. There were huge scales, too, and curious 
 diving-bell shaped weights, all of the brightest brass. Our lad stared 
 again, as he saw the gold weighed out as coolly as if it had been 
 coffee-berries. One thing that startled him was, why those clerks, 
 seated each at a little desk, with a large green shade over the lamp 
 above him, should be working so hard in a place where there was so 
 much wealth. 
 
 What a crowd of people flocked to this bank ! Some brought bags 
 full of coin, and rolls of soiled, dirty notes, that looked smudged 
 and creased as an old playbill. Phil thought he had suddenly dis- 
 covered the currency laws. He imagined that the bank was a kind 
 
210 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 of wash-house, where dirty paper was brought in and exchanged for 
 clean. He could not exactly understand why gold should be left there. 
 The taking it away he could easily account for ; but whatever theory 
 he might have framed was suddenly interrupted by a gentleman 
 attempting to edge in before him and take his place, a liberty that 
 Phil would not allow. He called out so lustily for justice, and 
 appealed so often to the "master" paying the money whether " he 
 wasn't first," that he quite interrupted the silent business of the 
 banking-house. To get rid of so noisy a visitor, the clerk asked what 
 he wanted, and the cheque was handed over. Innocent Phil, with 
 his elbow resting on the counter, and his legs paddling about, did 
 not know how to answer when the clerk asked him how he would 
 take it. He handed in the linen bag and said, " In this." The clerk 
 began to explain, " I mean, will you have it in gold, or in notes ?" 
 
 " Well, he didn't say," answered Phil, "but he's waiting over the 
 way. If you like, I'll go and ask him." 
 
 " But did not Lord Ascot give you any directions ? You are his 
 groom, ain't you ?" 
 
 "His groom! no!" answered Phil, rather indignantly. " It's a 
 foreigneering gent as sent me, and he said he'd give me half a 
 sovereign." 
 
 A new light broke in upon the clerk. He examined the cheque 
 attentively, and then, telling Phil to wait a moment, went towards 
 a glass door at the back ; but, before doing so, he gave a significant 
 nod to the doorkeeper, and if Phil had looked round, he would have 
 seen that portly personage take up his post directly in front of the 
 exit. 
 
 Little suspecting any danger, the lad, when told to wait, said, " All 
 right, master, don't keep a fellow long, please." 
 
 Por the next ten minutes, he could not make out why all the clerks 
 who had before been so busy with their heads down to their writing, 
 should be now sitting upright on their stools, and staring at him. He 
 was getting rather angry, and a strong inclination to make faces at 
 them came over him, but he resisted it. His cool manner, and the 
 indifferent way in which he took up a pen and began to clean his 
 nails, seemed to astonish these gentlemen. 
 
 Instead of getting his money as he expected, Phil was asked, or 
 rather ordered, to step into a back room, where he found the pay- 
 clerk showing the cheque to a bald-headed gentleman with a big 
 diamond in the middle of a spotless white cravat. The boy had so many 
 questions put to him that he soon found out there was something 
 wrong. In rapid succession, he had to explain how he came possessed 
 of the cheque, and describe the person who gave it him. Then out 
 came the fearful truth. The document was a forgery^ but so cleverly 
 executed, that, had it not been for Phil's artless answers, the clerk 
 would most certainly have cashed it. Whilst Phil had been kept 
 waiting, a messenger was despatched to Lord Ascot's residence, 
 and the answer returned to the inquiries corroborated the suspicions 
 of the clerk. His lordship asserted he had never drawn a cheque 
 for three hundred pounds, and further recognised the paper by the 
 number on it, as being that which had been stolen from him, together 
 
^ 
 
 ;^ 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 211 
 
 with his purse, some month, or two ago. He had, he said, intended to 
 have given notice to the bank of this theft, but the circumstance had 
 slipped his memory. 
 
 When our unfortunate boy had somewhat recovered from his 
 terror, he began to lament aloud his miserable position. "May I 
 die like a dog," he cried, "if I knowed it was a forgery. Ton my 
 word, I didn't. He said he'd give me half a sovereign. That's what 
 made me come. I wish he'd been hung before I saw him, a dirty 
 villain. I hope you won't think / did it, gentlemen. Mr. Sparkler, 
 my master, will tell you I'm a very honest boy. I wouldn't rob the 
 cheese from a mousetrap." 
 
 " That remains to be seen, boy," replied the bald-headed gentle- 
 man. " Certainly your behaviour, here, has been in your favour ; but 
 I am sorry to tell you I shall have to hand you over to the police as 
 soon as they arrive, in order that some inquiries may be made." 
 
 " Give me in charge !" stammered out Phil. " Then what are you 
 going to do to the other fellow ? It was him, not me. Tou ain't 
 a going to let him off? He's waiting for me over the way, I tell you. 
 Oh ! why don't you send somebody quick, or he'll be gone ? Oh ! do 
 make haste, please !" He entreated and implored, though with little 
 effect, for the bald gentleman did not even answer him. The boy 
 was so wrapped up in his despair that he did not hear the door at the 
 back open, or notice that two policemen had entered. Indeed, it was 
 only when a voice said, " Come, my man, you must go along with 
 us," that he knew he was in custody. " 'Pon my word, I am inno- 
 cent," said Phil, throwing his arms about in despair. 
 
 " Ay, of course you are. "We shall soon see about that," was the 
 officer's sarcastic remark. " Every one on you's innocent. That's the 
 old game. I never see such a lot of virtuous people as you young 
 prigs. Here, come along." 
 
 He was led off between the two men, dragging them towards the 
 meeting place appointed by the foreigner. He pulled forward as a 
 dog does at its chain, and was so earnest that one of the officers mistook 
 his motives, and warned him it was no good trying that dodge, for he 
 should not escape. 
 
 It is almost needless to say that the foreign gentleman was not at 
 his post. The representative of " Alphonse Lerouville et C ie " was a 
 very knowing fellow, and, judging by the time it took to get the 
 cheque cashed, had sniffed danger afar off, and renounced all idea of 
 plunder. 
 
 Nearly broken-hearted, Phil was led off towards the police station, 
 the crowd at his heels increasing with every street they passed 
 through. Many who saw his pale face, his staring eyes, and teeth 
 clinched with fear, declared they had never beheld such a ruffianly 
 countenance. Numerous were the inquiries made of what he had 
 done, and very various were the answers. Some asserted positively 
 he had been found in the strong-room of a bank with his pockets 
 stuffed with notes. Others were equally circumstantial in their 
 account of how he attempted to snatch a bag of gold off the bank 
 counter. But one old lady gave a more terrible version than any, 
 
 2f 
 
212 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 and affirmed she had been told by some one who heard it from 
 a party present, that the young villain had attempted to murder and 
 rob the Governor of the Bank of England whilst the poor old gentle- 
 man was hard at work signing bank-notes. 
 
 And yet, as the reader knows, poor Phil was perfectly innocent, 
 and the only guilty person was the representative of Messrs. Al- 
 phonse Lerouville et C ie , Lyon3 and London. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN WHICH THE CAPTAIN DOES NOT CONDUCT HIMSELF AS A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Never for one moment did Captain Merton forget the bet he had 
 made with Charley Sutton that he would, before six months were 
 over, add the name of poor Bertha Hazlewood to the list of those 
 victims w r ho had been unable to resist the fascination of his person 
 and the exquisite perfection of his manners. Even if he had not 
 wagered this 50Z., the gallant captain would not have been less ear- 
 nest in his pursuit of the poor little girl. Eor Bertha had such a 
 pretty face, that, to possess it, any of the gentlemen on town would 
 have put themselves to considerable exertion or expense. The cap- 
 tain had often given himself more trouble, and exercised all his abilities 
 for a less comely object. He declared that the girl for whom he had 
 nearly ruined himself whilst quartered at Canterbury was no more 
 to be compared with Bertha than the painting on a snuff-box to a 
 Titian. JBut there was a strong protection about Bertha which, had 
 she been left to herself, would have saved her from any evil. She 
 was so perfectly innocent that she could not imagine any unworthy 
 design in others. She had many a time seen Captain Crosier 
 examining her through his opera- glass, but the severest term she 
 applied to his actions was that of rudeness. In fact, she was not 
 aware young gentlemen were capable of enticing poor girls away from 
 their homes, and ruining their happiness. It was Miss Tomsey who 
 first taught Bertha the real purpose of the young officer's attentions. 
 
 Every morning Mr. Crosier might be seen standing at his window, 
 half hidden by a curtain, with his glasses as immovably fixed 
 to his eyes as the telescope to the little wooden figure over the 
 nautical instrument makers' shops. He daily examined Bertha's 
 beauties. He had settled in his own mind that her forehead was 
 white and round as the swelling sides of a marble vase. Through 
 his excellent binoculars he could see the temples beat like the sides 
 of a lizard. He preferred the shape of her nose to that of any 
 Grecian Venus, giving as his reason that the nostrils were small 
 as the inner leaf of a rosebud. If her upper lip was thin, he vowed 
 her under one was full, round, and moist. It pouted out, as 
 he told Ered Tattenham, like a velvet cushion to lay kisses on. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 213 
 
 With her head bent down at work, her chin formed a pretty double, 
 and her hands — he was very particular about her hands — were so 
 small, with fingers so tapering, that he would have wagered a sove- 
 reign Houbigant's "sixes" were too large for her. He made up 
 his mind that she was the prettiest girl in the world, and declared it 
 was a disgrace she should have to work so hard, thereby meaning that 
 she was worthy to live in idle shame. Once he was heard to say that, 
 if he could only be satisfied her parents were respectable, decent 
 people, and pretty well off, he really believed he should feel half 
 inclined to marry her. 
 
 Many a time had Miss Tomsey noticed the captain watching her 
 house. At first she thought he was gazing at her, and, although 
 she naturally felt indignant at such a liberty, somehow tolerated 
 the impertinence. It was only when sh^ discovered that the glasses 
 dropped the moment Bertha retired, that'she became keenly sensitive 
 to the gentleman's rudeness. 
 
 " What on earth is that man looking at ?" at last she exclaimed to 
 the girl. " He's been bobbing behind that curtain for the last three 
 hours. There he is again, the impertinent, low rascal !" 
 
 Of course Bertha said, " She didn't know what the gentleman 
 meant," and in her curiosity turned to look at him, and nearly 
 sent the captain into a fit of rapture by affording him an excellent 
 view of her exquisitely oval countenance. 
 
 To put an end to this annoyance, Miss Tomsey sent to inquire the 
 name of " the gentleman who occupied the first floor" at No. 89, 
 and, within half an hour, Merton received a dignified note, in 
 which " Miss Tomsey presented her compliments to him, and hoped 
 and trusted that he would cease a system of the most persecuting and 
 annoying, not to say ungentlemanly, espionnage, which could have no 
 other result than to injure the welfare of the young woman who was 
 its object." 
 
 Instead of feeling remorse at this most just reproof, the captain 
 sought to turn it to his own advantage. He instantly dressed him- 
 self for going out. He was studiously careful at his toilette, putting 
 on a waistcoat which he had only just that morning received from his 
 tailor's (it opened very low in front and allowed the third stud to be 
 visible). He hastened towards Miss Tomsey 's residence, and, in the 
 hope of seeing Bertha, requested an interview with her mistress. 
 
 Nothing could surpass the dignity of Miss Tomsey's beha- 
 viour on this trying occasion. So strongly did she express herself 
 against the captain's conduct, that, but for the philosophy mixed up 
 with her remarks, she might almost have been accused of violence. 
 The young man seemed crushed by her reproofs, and kept his eyes 
 turned to the carpet. His agitation was evinced by the restlessness 
 with which he played with his hat. 
 
 " I appeal to you as an officer and a gentleman not to trifle with the 
 repose of this young woman, for — you must forgive me for saying so — 
 Captain Crosier can have no honest purpose in his attentions." 
 
 " I am surprised to hear a lady of Miss Tomsey's appearance," 
 modestly muttered Merton, " denying to our sex the only privilege 
 we have, that of admiring hers." He endeavoured by these words 
 
214 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 to persuade the old girl he had used his glasses for her. He partly- 
 succeeded ; for it is a law of human nature to feel kindly inclined 
 towards those who admire us. 
 
 The many counsels with which Miss Tomsey now endeavoured to 
 fortify Bertha against the captain's attacks first taught that young 
 lady she had an admirer in the world. Very naturally she wished 
 to know what her admirer was like, and many a time, whilst Crosier 
 was [intently watching the drawing-room, did Bertha take a sly peep 
 at him from the second floor. She thought him a good-looking young 
 fellow, and that his moustache, carefully pomaded into a ring at each 
 end, became him. Owing to the effects of late hours, his waving light 
 hair — -as she looked down upon him — seemed thin on the top of his 
 head, and dissipation had tacked on five years to his appearance. 
 Altogether, Bertha had no fkult to find with her admirer, and, now 
 she had once seen him, did not care whether she ever again ex- 
 perienced that pleasure. 
 
 The young officer was too bold and knowing a campaigner to be 
 frightened away by Miss Tomsey. He sternly blockaded his enemy's 
 street door, and had his glasses constantly levelled at their camp, so 
 that, should the pretty Bertha ever make a sortie, he might hasten 
 after her, and attempt a conquest. Many a time when Miss Tomsey 
 went out for her evening walk did he rush for his hat, mistaking her 
 for some one else. As soon as he discovered his mistake, he would 
 return to No. 23, and employ every stratagem for entering that 
 fortress. He w T ould walk up and down the street, in the hopes of 
 seeing the fair one, and, if ever she did approach the window, begin 
 to make signs, entreating that she would come out and speak to him. 
 But all in vain ; for Bertha plunged him in despair by retiring into the 
 dark recesses of the room. If she sometimes continued to watch 
 him from her hiding-place, it was only because she was startled to 
 think that anybody should take so much interest in her, and wondered 
 what he could want to see her about. In his despair, the captain 
 called in the assistance of his man, Teddy Cutler, judging, and rightly, 
 that, where the lion cannot enter, the mouse may sometimes find ad- 
 mittance. If there was any virtuous hesitation on the part of Mr. 
 Cutler to join in this scheme, the exact value of his scruples may be 
 fixed at the sum of one guinea, for that was the amount for which he 
 consented to abet and aid in the nefarious undertaking. The next day 
 the ingenious groom, through the agency of Mary Anne, the maid, 
 caused a letter to be placed on Bertha's dressing-table. It was a high- 
 flown declaration of love, savouring rather of * The Complete Letter 
 Writer." It had cost Merton nearly a quire of Bath post before he 
 was satisfied with his performance. We will just give one extract from 
 the sixth side to show that the captain was enthusiastic in the ex- 
 treme : — " If the most patient admiration that man ever bore, if, 
 despite difficulties almost insurmountable, obstacles truly formidable, 
 oppositions bordering on insults, I still continue to seek for your 
 affection, surely no one will deny the purity of my love, or dare to 
 assert any other opinion of my constancy than that which would 
 do honour to any gentleman, no matter how fastidious the age in 
 which he lived." 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 215 
 
 The captain had intended this note to explode like a barrel of gun- 
 powder in poor Bertha's bosom, and blow away any hesitation or 
 timidity she might have. How great was his surprise when he re- 
 ceived the following answer, worthy the virtue and innocence of her 
 who sent it : 
 
 41 Sib, — You do not know me, or you would not have written me 
 that long letter, which I do not understand. I am a poor, penniless 
 girl, whose mother is in a workhouse, and am totally unworthy the 
 attentions of so great a gentleman as yourself. I hope you will think 
 so too, and allow me to live in peace." 
 
 Nobody must blame Bertha for sending this answer, for she did so 
 ; by the advice of Miss Tomsey herself, to whom she very properly 
 showed the fiery declaration of love, and the icy answer she endea- 
 voured to cool it with. It was by Miss Tomsey's directions that the 
 words " whose mother is in the workhouse" were inserted. Perhaps 
 Miss Tomsey was to blame in this matter, and ought to have remem- 
 bered that, however discouraging the reply might be, it was a sanc- 
 tion to the correspondence. But that excellent lady, although too 
 aged to hope for a taste of the joys of matrimony, was still not totally 
 insensible to the influence of love, and took great delight in witnessing 
 in others what she could have no chance of practising herself. In 
 fact, she was a match-maker. 
 
 One evening Bertha went out alone, and, before she had turned the 
 corner, the captain was by her side. He began to talk very rapidly, 
 nearly thrusting his head into her bonnet. His conduct was so re- 
 markable, that everybody who passed turned round to look at him. 
 She was hurrying on, and he was chasing her, treading on her dress, 
 and almost forcing her into the road, in his endeavours to keep close 
 to her side. The pace at which they were walking caused his voice 
 to tremble as if from emotion. As she never answered him, he had 
 all the talk to himself. 
 
 " How earnestly I have waited for this opportunity ! — I have 
 watched for days, for months. — How could you send me that cruel 
 letter ? — Why should I care if your mother is in the workhouse ? — 
 It is noble in you to tell me so ; but I love you in spite of every 
 consideration. — Have you a father?" By this ingenious question 
 he hoped to make her speak, but she would not. Then he con- 
 tinued : " You will not answer me. — You despise me. — Yet all I am 
 guilty of, is admiring you. — If I annoy you, tell me so. — You treat 
 me with more contempt than I deserve. — They have warned you 
 against me. — They have told you infamous stories of me, have they 
 not ?" This second attempt, however, failed. She would not open 
 her lips. "Your face is too good and beautiful, Bertha" (he had 
 learnt her name), " for you to be so unkind, unless at another's insti- 
 gation. — Why do you walk so fast ? — are you afraid of me ? — You take 
 me for a scoundrel, and fear me. — See, the people are turning round 
 to look at us. — You are telling them I am a scoundrel. — Do speak, 
 Bertha.— Say anything. — Tell me to go, and that you hate me." He 
 was rather anxious to discover whether her voice was a sweet one or 
 
216 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 not. Bertha was this time caught in the trap. She stopped sud- 
 denly, and, after he had checked the impetus of his pace and turned 
 round, said, in her own musical voice, 
 
 " Do leave me, sir. Unless you do, I must go home." 
 
 But not he. It might be the only chance he should ever have of 
 speaking to her, and he could not relinquish it. "With great ingenuity 
 he managed, by continually declaring he would leave that moment, 
 since his presence was distasteful to her, to remain in her society. 
 He tried to dazzle her by the magnificence of his offers. Nurse 
 Hazlewood — whom he vowed he loved for her sake — was to be taken 
 from the workhouse, and made the happiest of women. Bertha her- 
 self was to be rescued from the drudgery of servitude, and share with 
 
 him But here she broke from him, and scampered home as fast as 
 
 she could. As he never ran, there was no pursuit. 
 
 It soon became known to the ladies in Miss Tomsey's kitchen — for 
 Teddy Cutler told them — that the captain "was sticking up to 
 ' Miss.' " Mrs. "Wortey was overpoweringly indignant against "the 
 baggage" and her " fellow," and Mary Ann was seized with a fit of 
 prophecy, and called upon Susan to mark her words, that no good 
 would come of it. There was a sardonic smile upon Mr. Boxer's 
 countenance whenever the subject was mentioned, but the only 
 opinion he expressed was, that "no gal could withstand a red coat." 
 The livery of Miss Tomsey — she being in no way related to the royal 
 family — was sky-blue. 
 
 On the evening that the captain chased poor Bertha he met at the 
 club Charley Sutton, who inquired of him, " How he was getting on 
 with the little 'un ?" 
 
 " She's shy — awfully shy," answered Merton, confidently ; " but 
 you know, old boy, I've got five months before that dinner comes off 
 at Eichmond. You'll have to hand over the fifty pounds, I can tell 
 you. She's all right." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE DERBY DAY. 
 
 That great day of enjoyment for the would-be sporting men 
 of London, "The Derby Hay," had come round again. From the 
 gentlemen in the Guards, who began to make up a book a year before, 
 to the. smallest beerhouse-keeper in "Whitechapel, who betted his 
 five shillings only a week previously, all the worthy children of 
 modern Babylon were influenced by this exciting period. Every horse 
 in Ted Argean's stables had been bespoken months ago, and there 
 was not a coster who owned a donkey who had not made up his mind 
 to drive down on his truck and see what horseflesh was like. 
 
 Our volatile but gallant captain has betted heavily on the great 
 event of the day. He stands to win 15,000Z. "With such tact has he 
 made his arrangements, that, come what will, he says he must win. 
 A friend of his, who is a trainer, and knows all the " dodges" of the 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 217 
 
 race-course, has advised him to back Greased Lightning to the last 
 penny in his pocket. She was thought nothing of then — a mere out- 
 sider at 70 to 1. She has since risen to be third favourite, and so 
 cleverly has the captain hedged, that, whether she starts or not, he is 
 sure to be in pocket some cool or hot hundreds. He has provided 
 against every risk. Supposing it should be a wet day and the ground 
 heavy, then Buttered Thunder, it is said, will be the winner, and the 
 captain backs him, too. There are thousands of other men in 
 London who say they are equally certain of success. They pretend 
 that they have laid out their money as cleverly as Crosier. In fact, 
 every gent with a fancy for the turf seems, according to his own ac- 
 count, to be a consummate genius, and to understand thoroughly 
 what the knowing ones are about. The only wonder is why money 
 should ever be lost at the business. They ought, all of them, to 
 make spanking fortunes. 
 
 The Derby Day has dawned, and by six o'clock vans are waiting 
 outside the greengrocers' shops and before coal and potato sheds. 
 Barrels of beer have been stowed away by seven, and the passengers 
 are to meet by half-past. With thirty persons to two horses they 
 must take their time on the road. It is undecided as yet whether 
 it is going to rain, or be fair ; those who have paid for their seats 
 suggest hopefully that the clouds indicate heat, and those who are to 
 stop at home prophesy a very heavy fall of rain before twelve. But, 
 however threatening the sky may be, vans and shay-carts are, by 
 eight o'clock, rattling down every street, and cornopeans are playing 
 on every side. The maid-servants who are beating their mats against 
 the lamp-posts, or hearth-stoning the door-steps, allow themselves to 
 be abstracted from their work by watching the different vehicles. In 
 Oxford and Begent streets, the tailors and glove shops open earlier 
 than usual. Lavender overcoats and grey wrappers ticketed " For 
 the Eaces — 30s.," adorn the windows. Gaudy cravats and gloves 
 of light kid tempt, by their cheapness, youths to be fashionable. 
 Cigar shops are preparing to sell any amount of the best Havannahs 
 at seven for a shilling, and, at the linendrapers', the demand for veils 
 is beyond belief. 
 
 Before the clock has struck nine, young gentlemen, got up in a 
 slang style of costume, supposed to be suitable to the occasion, are 
 hurrying, not to business, but to the rendezvous of their different 
 parties. Suits of the loudest Tweed and fastest plaid ; neck-hand- 
 kerchiefs of brilliant patterns, to possess which a simple negress would 
 sell her first-born, are rushing about in all directions ; white hats, that 
 will return brown ones, dart round every corner. Open carriages, 
 with hampers lashed to the footboard, emerge from every turning, 
 some with four horses and blue-jacketed postboys, others with steady- 
 looking cobs and a careful driver on the box. Outside the hotels and 
 club-houses more carriages are waiting, with more hampers, marked 
 " Fortnum and Mason," tied and swung about them. Cases of cigars, 
 branded "Regalia," rest on the folds of hoods. At the Eegent- 
 circus, omnibuses and stage-coaches, "Defiances" and " Eesolutions," 
 " Paddingtons" and " Eoyal Blues," have clapped on four horses, and 
 tout for passengers ; men on the roofs play horns to attract notice, 
 and make the turn-out look jolly and regularly first-rate. 
 
218 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Our gallant captain formed one of Viscount Asco't's party. They 
 were to meet at the Club. It took some time before they could start, 
 for cabs had first to be despatched to hunt up one Tom Garden, 
 and another to carry off Charley Sutton ; then Fred "Wigwam, at 
 the last moment, sent word he could not come, and Ned Lom- 
 bard promised to meet his friends opposite the Grand Stand. Twelve 
 o'clock had struck before every one had taken his seat. The captain 
 had volunteered to blow the post-horn. He took it from its long 
 strawberry-pottle of a case, and blew terrible notes that alarmed the 
 grey tits. The frightened bloods pranced and reared, little thinking 
 what work they had got before them, and how foolish it was to waste 
 their strength in ornamental display. 
 
 Now the stream of vehicles was rushing towards the bridges. 
 Every horse's head was turned in the same direction — open and 
 closed carriages with fours or a pair, cabs, gigs, and broughams, dog- 
 carts and vans. Many a horse whose usual daily labour was to take 
 out coals regretted that any change had occurred in his avocation. 
 
 Down the Clapham-road the inhabitants of those respectably- 
 appointed and highly-painted family mansions were seated on the tidy 
 lawns, or leaning over the garden- walls, watching the mob of vehicles 
 dart past. In front of all these capitally repaired dwellings were 
 seated mammas and daughters, and at the upper windows the servant- 
 girls were leaning over the sills instead of cleaning the rooms. 
 Though early in the day, winking and kissing of hands to domestics 
 had already begun. Declarations of love were made to the maidens, 
 and all were called Mary. The dust was blowing about, as if the road 
 was brown paper smouldering. In every sunbeam the powder was 
 visibly curling. 
 
 On Lord Ascot's drag, the gentlemen who had "nipped" before 
 starting, amused themselves by criticising the vehicled multitude. 
 They cried out, "There's a pretty girl!" and pointed out little 
 "poppets" and pretty angels, dressed up in every kind of gauzy 
 protection against the dust. 
 
 About half way to Epsom the vans that started in the morning 
 were discovered halting before public-houses, the horses streaked 
 with sweat, like hats through which the grease has penetrated. 
 Every gentleman had put on a green veil, and looked delicately lady- 
 like. The tender damsels had covered themselves up with net as 
 completely as the tarts at a pastrycook's. The brims and crowns 
 of hats were smothered with dust, as if nutmegs had been grated 
 over them. Hansom cabs had gauze curtains arranged in front, 
 imparting a highly furnished appearance to the conveyance. So 
 numerous were the carriages that the road was blocked up, the 
 vehicles shuffling along in a double line, one side now darting on, 
 then having to stop and allow the other to rattle ahead. Now 
 began the smashing of panels. Some prudent brougham people 
 had fixed stuffed sacks behind their turn-outs. Whenever a panel 
 was smashed there was great bobbing out of heads and shaking of 
 fists, together with a taking down of addresses. The cosy couples 
 in gigs were often disturbed by finding a horse's head thrust between 
 man and wife, and the frothy-nosed animal turned the shawls and 
 coats into pocket-handkerchiefs to wipe its foaming mouth. The dust 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 219 
 
 had settled so thickly on Captain Crosier's coat that it presented a 
 moonlight effect of sudden lights and deep shades. He had impru- 
 dently oiled his whiskers, and the fine powder had combined with the 
 grease, and turned to a kind of paint. So handsome a man was 
 nervous about his personal appearance, especially as the drag was 
 just then alongside of an open britschka, in which reclined four 
 lovely Venuses with fawn-coloured hoods drawn over their bonnets. 
 The angelic maidens looked like fancy nuns who had taken green 
 veils. There was one with the most beautifully languid eyes, whose 
 half-closed lids seemed as if she were about to doze. There was J. 
 another with golden hair that waved like the grain of satin-w T ood. A 
 third had teeth so white that on each rounded surface of enamel a 
 little globe of light was focused that made them sparkle like a string 
 of brilliants. The noble viscount on the box managed very cleverly 
 to keep the drag alongside this carriage. The beautiful young 
 ladies had the advantage of being stared at by twenty military pairs 
 of eyes. To increase the pleasure, a cab-horse in front was good 
 enough to fall down, and thus enable Tom Oxendon to make an offer 
 of marriage to her with the light hair, whilst Crosier, looking at 
 the one with the teeth, exclaimed, " Oh, you perfection !" The gallant 
 Lord Oaks, wishing to inform the beauty with the languid eyes that 
 he considered her an angel, lisped out an inquiry as to " what time 
 she had promithed to return to Paradith that night ?" 
 
 Our noble party had been two hours on the road, and the race- 
 course was not far off. Already they were in the open country. They 
 were passing by farms, and had opportunities of remarking that the 
 young wheat looked well. Under the hedges, at the corners of lanes, 
 were ginger-beer stalls, or barrels covered with boughs. 
 
 The road had now become more free, and the dashing drag rattled 
 on, passing the omnibuses that started early. They soon distanced 
 the puffing, distressed nags. These omnibuses had nobody inside, 
 but carried such a cargo on the roof that they sank far into the 
 springs, and resembled barges deep in the water. Now horns begin 
 to play, and lend a romantic, Swiss-mountain effect to the day's 
 delights. The only turn-outs that passed our dashing trap were the 
 little perky gigs, that, in their hurry, took to the roadside turf, and 
 rattled ahead, the springs crackling as they jolted over the ruts and 
 mounds. There were plenty of beggar-women and mountebanks 
 hurrying along — poor, tired, thirsty mortals, with a rim of dust round 
 their dry mouths. 
 
 At length the grand stand was in view. A little longer and the 
 /drag was bumping up and down over the turf. It passed the shay- 
 carts with the nose-bagged horses tied t'other way to the shafts. The 
 guinea to go on the hill was paid, and the rope lowered. A place was 
 soon found among the three lines of carriages. Our gentlemen de- 
 scended to shake the dust from their clothing, and restore their fasci- 
 nating exteriors. Men with brushes seized by main force upon the 
 captain, and began to rub him down as if he were a horse. For the 
 next ten minutes fifty stable-boys were, for many various reasons, 
 begging to be remembered — some for pushing the carriage to its 
 place and unharnessing the horses, and others for having supplied 
 clothes-brushes. The noble Ascot was often entreated not to be 
 
220 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 hard -hearted, and reminded that the day was hot, and thirst painfully- 
 prevalent. 
 
 And now our gallant company took a look at the course. Never 
 was there such a Derby Day, or so many people. Every carriage rooi 
 was a crowded platform. Numberless parasols, of various colours, 
 seemed like painted lanterns at a Chinese feast, suspended in the air. 
 The grand stand, from its sloping top to the parterre in front, was full 
 of people. The roof was black with hats as a tray of currants. In the 
 balconies a streak of parasols gracefully revealed the sex of the spec- 
 tators. On each side stretched out the canvas booths, mere trumpery 
 concerns next to the giant building of brick and stone. Whence 
 could such numbers of carriages have been raked together ? The mob 
 equalled in numbers (but in every other respect surpassed) the popula- 
 tion of a German duchy. There were horses enough to mount twenty 
 regiments. The poor brutes were picketed under canvas, or stowed 
 away as in a camp of cavalry. They were stained with dust as a 
 dirty skylight. There were kickers, and jibbers, and bolters ; some had 
 sore shoulders, broken knees, and sand-cracks ; others had no tails, no 
 eyes, or no wind ; and a few ran better at the nose than on their legs. 
 The first race was on when our dashing drag arrived, but nobody 
 appeared to care much about it. The captain took it as he would 
 a glass of absinth before dinner, to give him an appetite for the 
 grand feast to come. He reserved himself for the " second course." 
 
 There were many other drags besides Viscount Ascot's, very dashing 
 and highly polished turn-outs, like dandy stage-coaches, only instead 
 of "York" or "Brighton" being painted on the doors, there were 
 crests. Each gentleman on the roof of these drags had a strap 
 round his shoulder, to suspend the polished leather case of his race- 
 glasses. At first it w r as difficult to tell whether they had broken their 
 arms, or merely come armed with cartridge-boxes. Some people 
 fancied these exquisites had brought their morocco work-boxes with 
 them, and intended to embroider between the races. 
 
 As the time drew near for the Derby to be run, a strong wish to 
 win a bet animated each breast. Voices around were heard calling 
 out " Eorty to ten against Queen Bee." Or, " A hundred to five on 
 King Death." This desire to pocket somebody else's money gradu- 
 ally increased up to the moment when the police began to clear the 
 course for the great race. Forming themselves into a line, this gallant 
 force was seen to march down the broad enclosure and sweep the mob 
 before them as dust with a broom. A bell rang out as if fifty 
 steamers, instead of horses, were about to start. The course was soon 
 clear as a river, the mob embanking its sides. The only living thing 
 that dared to defy the police and tread the turf was a white dog. It 
 walked along as coolly as when a cat on its midnight rambles creeps 
 down a garden walk. The multitude hooted the cur. It looked 
 puzzled, tucked in his tail, and bolted. 
 
 Near the weighing-stand the betting men, holding little specks of 
 books, were running about offering five to four or taking a hundred 
 to twenty. The crowd in the enclosure facing the grand stand was 
 so closely packed that it moved like a basket of live crabs. Presently 
 the horses were brought out, and the non-sporting public had its 
 time occupied in consulting the correct card of the races to see which 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 221 
 
 steed was Bed Cap, and which Black Sleeves. It was at this period 
 that young ladies consented to be helped up to perilous places on the 
 roofs of carriages, apd kindly allowed their natty little boots to be- 
 come visible. Great insight into the powers of the horses was 
 gained by closely watching the essay gallop. The animals, from the 
 distance, looked no bigger than greyhounds. A youth, who knew no 
 more of horseflesh than he did of roasted Phoenix, vowed that " he 
 liked the look o' the chesnut." Another, who had never even 
 ridden a rocking-horse, declared " the grey picked his legs up well." 
 " The black one for my money," remarked a third, who, if the 
 terms had been accepted, would have made a good bargain, for he only 
 had three pounds in his pocket. One comic gentleman, noticing the 
 red-coated clerk of the course trotting past, offered to back him against 
 the field. The heavy swells on the drags were staring hard through 
 their race-glasses, and watched the horses until they reached the pad- 
 dock near the starting-post, when only the red, blue, green, and black 
 Jackets could be seen moving above the palings. The next half-hour 
 elapsed and yet the horses did not start. It was said that Buttered 
 Thunder had misconducted himself and tried to win by galloping off 
 before his rivals were even placed. The hot sun soon tired every- 
 body. Carriage-tops grew hot as hobs, and burned the feet. The 
 glare of light was so great that, to relieve his sight, Captain Crosier 
 watched a young lady with hazel eyes and a pink transparent muslin, 
 w r hom a gentleman in the rumble was helping to what at first 
 looked like champagne ; but this mean fellow was only frothing up 
 bitter ale, and, when the gallants on the drag found out that so pretty 
 a girl was condemned to sip such common tipple, they shouted, 
 with one sympathising voice, " Shame ! shame !" 
 
 At length a cry rises from the grand stand, "They're off! they're 
 off!" The shout passes along the mob like the rustling of a forest as 
 a breeze sweeps over it. The roof of the monster building ha3 
 changed from a black slope to a pink embankment, for every face is 
 gazing towards the course. The progress of the horses can be traced 
 by the excitement they raise. "Hats off!" is a favourite cry. 
 " Where are they ?" ask some who cannot see. " They've turned the 
 corner," answer those who can. A few who have never been on a 
 course before, exclaim, " Beautiful ! I never saw such a race." 
 
 The time was drawing near when a yard of ground would be more 
 valuable than a whole estate. Fortunes were hanging on a neck, or 
 a head, and thousands would be lost by a length. Many a man was 
 biting his lips as Pink Sleeves hung back, or Yellow Cap sprang for- 
 ward. The excitement was intense. Stable-helps and beggar-boys 
 climbed unrebuked up wheels and on springs, and attained high 
 places on carriage-tops and rumbles next to dashing blades and 
 fashionable dames. That knowing youth, Mr. Teddy Cutler, preferred 
 creeping into a carriage full of ladies, who were chirping and twitter- 
 ing like an aviary of singing-birds. These angels were betting gloves. 
 
 Now began a mighty din of shouting. The horses parted. A few 
 more bounds and all would be decided. A thousand cries were min- 
 gled together, of "Green Jacket wins!" "No! Bed Jacket!" 
 " Pink's picking up !" " Blue Cap's first !" " No ! Yellow Cap !" 
 " Blue Sleeves for a sovereign !" On came the closely-packed horses, 
 
222 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 each, with its neck stretched out straight as that of a swift-winged 
 bird. There were ten of them together as if they had been bound side 
 by side. The silken jackets of the jockeys rippled, and crackled 
 like flags, with the wind of the pace. They bent forwards and 
 threw their arms about them, as with desperation they lashed their 
 steeds. A swallow does not move so fast as they were moving. The 
 animals flung their legs from under them like hares, as they bounded 
 on. The mob shouted and pressed against the ropes, so that the police 
 had to beat them back, lest the cord should break. But none cared for 
 truncheons or threats, for the steeds were nearly home. This was the 
 moment for the clever jockey to show his art. The close knot of 
 horseflesh slowly separated and two or three steeds darted from the 
 rest. It was neck to neck between Yellow, Green, and Pink. He who 
 hit the hardest would win the race. People screamed with ungovern- 
 able excitement. At last the fatal post was passed. Two of the horses 
 shot by as close together as if they were running in harness. After 
 all this enthusiasm and delight nobody knew which was the winner. 
 
 There was one gallant youth dreadfully disappointed with the 
 race, for Greased Lightning made a bad twentieth, and Buttered 
 Thunder did not start. To console himself, he devoted all his atten- 
 tion to luncheon, and determined to smother care in the salad-bowl. 
 The baskets from Portnum and Mason were soon opened. The green 
 boxes from the pastrycooks had their lids taken off. The pigeon-pies 
 had come down safely, and only a little salt fallen into the jam tarts. 
 The blocks of ice, packed like grapes in sawdust, were taken from the 
 bags. The claret bottles were handed up with their coverings of 
 rushes, the Hockheimer, the Moussirender Moselle, and the Curacoa 
 sec, speedily produced, and the corkscrew screamed for. " This is 
 heaven !" B cried one dashing blade, after a full tumbler. " For Heaven's 
 sake, more claret !" gasped in agony another tremendous fellow. Soon 
 the top of the drag was covered with silver dishes, and everybody was 
 eating ravenously. " I shall be human soon," said Charley Sutton, 
 taking the second half of a fowl. Champagne corks flew about like 
 tennis-balls, and the bubbling amber wine was poured foaming into 
 tumblers. "With every empty bottle that was thrown down, the talk 
 grew louder and the laughter more frequent. Friends came up to the 
 drag, and, " How d'ye do, old boy ?" "A glass of sherry ?" " "Where's 
 Tom ?" " Capital race !" was the short conversation mumbled 
 through full mouths. Occasionally, a fellow in his drag would call 
 out to another in his brougham, " Has Clara come ?" or, " Have you 
 brought Mary down ? Where shall I find her ?" — " Last brougham, 
 second rank." One friend ten carriages off, cried out, " I say, Ascot, 
 and you fellows, I know where there's the prettiest girl on the 
 course!" Twenty voices roared, "Where? Where?" A hand 
 pointed to the carriage in which the nun-like beauties were seated. 
 They had thrown off their hoods, and the excitement of the scene 
 had coloured up their faces. It was dangerous for any but the 
 strongest brains to look at them. 
 
 After five minutes, Lord Oaks avowed a deadly hatred to a man with 
 heavy whiskers, who was carving a chicken for the languid-eyed maiden. 
 He inquired w T ho that fellow was, and vowed "he wath a thnob." 
 All over the course eating was proceeding vigorously. Men were 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 223 
 
 resting their plates on the boxes, springs, and steps of carriages, 
 whilst the young ladies inside broughams and barouches were gobbling 
 at their ease. Bits of bread, lobster- shells, and broken bottles, were 
 lying on the grass around, and boys were hunting among the scraps 
 to see if they could find anything eatable. Many were the requests 
 to " give us that bottle, your honour, when you're done with it," for 
 there was a coster buying them up at a halfpenny each to sell them again 
 in London. Beggar-women, asking for a little penny, went among 
 the carriages, and attracted the notice of gentlemen by pulling at their 
 legs like bell-ropes. Frenchmen wearing earrings serenaded the 
 feasters with guitars '^ad accordions, and an Italian organ-boy exe- 
 cuted several concerted pieces with a friend who whistled. There 
 was no lack of gipsy-women, with hair as black as their satin dresses, 
 and wearing their bonnets placed like flower-pots on their heads. 
 " Shall I tell you your fortune, handsome gentleman ?" they said, in 
 a wheedling tone. At one carriage, a lovely girl, in a white cloud of 
 muslin, covered over with blue butterfly bows, refused to have her 
 destiny revealed, although the sun-stained Egyptian whined, " Paint 
 heart never won a handsome gentleman. There's somebody coming 
 nobody dreams of. It's all writ in your beautiful eyes. Try your 
 little lucky sixpence, lady," &c. The most painful exhibition of the 
 day was that of a poor wretch who tried to awe the carriage-folk into 
 generosity by exhibiting a sore and leprous body. He stood with 
 his ulcerous legs bared before those who were eating, until, out of 
 mercy to themselves, they were obliged to purchase his absence by a 
 donation. 
 
 To soothe his sorrows and forget Greased Lightning and Buttered 
 Thunder, Captain Crosier devoted his energies to three-a-penny knock- 
 'em-downs. He prided himself on being a " dab" at the game. He 
 was soon in possession of a handkerchief full of humming-tops, shells 
 stopped up with red daubs of pincushions, and wooden dolls. These 
 he distributed among ladies of his acquaintance. He filled the lilac- 
 silk lap of a Venus in ringlets, and on the strength of three lemons 
 flirted for half an hour and drank a bottle of Moselle with two 
 most lovely creatures in lace and cherry silk. "When the postilions 
 in plum satin and velvet jackets — when the postboys in blue spencers 
 and white-cord thing-a-mees — had eaten their hunks of bread and 
 meat, and half-fuddled themselves with champagne — when the grooms 
 in natty frock-coats and plaster-of-Paris legs had packed up the 
 silver dishes, and placed the spoons in security, then the horses were 
 brought out, and preparations begun for returning home. Every- 
 body was very merry, being full up to the neck with wine. 
 
 Whilst the carriages were waiting till itrwas possible to move, the 
 time was passed in joking and laughter. If a gentleman with a lady 
 on his arm happened to pass by, Viscount Ascot and his friends 
 would instantly shout out, " Take her from him ! take her from him !" 
 The most complimentary speeches were addressed to the maidens in the 
 neighbouring carriages, and they were entreated to leave their friends 
 and return home on the drag. At last the way was clear, and the 
 prancing greys had their heads " let go." Off they rattled past the 
 line of booths where "Jones, from Beading," and "Smith, from 
 Berks," had made such a good thing out of cold meat, bottled beer, 
 
224 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 and a slop-basinful of mustard. The dashing young blades were in 
 ripe spirits for the fun of the road, as full of liquor as a fresh bottle, 
 and as saucy as a Cheap Jack. The first gentleman they now saw on 
 horseback was, as usual, requested " to get inside, and draw the blinds 
 down." And the answer was the one common on such occasions, 
 consisting of " I can't, for I promised to give your aunt a lift." 
 Another horseman was informed that his fiery cob would " go, sir, if 
 he only gave him a little hay sometimes." Directly a man was seen 
 with a green veil on, he was termed " a ladylike young woman." Not 
 being of a very witty temperament, Captain Crosier never made any 
 observation more rude than "/see you," or "I'll tell your mother." 
 "When the drag stopped at Sutton, Tom Oxendon made an offer of 
 marriage to a grey-haired and evidently married woman seated at the 
 first floor. He stated that he had thirty thousand a year, but wasn't 
 happy, for he loved her to distraction. 
 
 Although the noble viscount was rolling on his box under the 
 influence of champagne, yet he managed his prancing greys most 
 skilfully. He darted among the carts adorned with boughs like 
 arbours, he grazed by the vans out of which twenty heads were 
 thrust in alarm, and even the trotting ponies could not keep up 
 with him. Hansom cabs, with rows of wooden dolls strung up 
 before them, broughams, barouches, costers' trucks, everything was 
 left behind, and all the time they galloped along the gay young dogs 
 sprinkled their insults plentifully on every side^ 
 
 No sooner did they see on a stage-coach a man who was playing 
 the horn, than one of the wags cried out, " Would any one oblige me 
 by cutting that fellow's throat ;" or begged as a favour that some- 
 body would " hit the musician in the wind." Beautiful maidens were 
 accused of bad taste for remaining " with those ugly men ;" and if 
 any observations were made on the noble company's moustaches, the 
 retort was sure to be, " They won't allow them at Swan and Edgar's." 
 But there is nothing so exhausting as wit, and at last our gallant 
 crew was tired out. The laughter and the "chaffing" were followed 
 by a dead silence. They passed the fair on Clapham-common with- 
 out insulting anybody; they looked into the parlours of the sub- 
 stantial Clapham mansions, and saw all the family circles assembled 
 round the windows without addressing one rude w r ord to them. 
 And even when, on passing Kennington-'pike, the crowd criticised 
 the greys by yelling " Cat's-meat, yah !" the jolly boys took no notice 
 of the remark, for they were completely fagged to death, and wishing 
 they were at home. 
 
 As he drank his soda-water at the club, Captain Crosier felt quite 
 broken-spirited. There was a report among the members that poor 
 Charles Bouncey had blown out his brains through losing thirty 
 thousand. This reminded him of his own position, and he told Fred 
 Tattenhamin confidence that if the men who were in his debt did not 
 come up to the scratch on settling day he should be regularly " sewed 
 up." Then he cursed Greased Lightning — denounced Buttered 
 Thunder — wished he'd never been born — and, on looking to see what 
 time it was, found his watch had been stolen. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 225 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 LOCKED UP. 
 
 Knowing that he was as innocent as a blind kitten of the crime 
 with which he was charged, it nearly drove Philip crazy to find him- 
 self treated like the most arrant young scamp that ever picked a 
 j)ocket at an execution. To be virtuous, and yet appear vicious, was 
 a harder state than he had strength of mind to endure. He more 
 than once muttered to himself, " I shouldn't have minded if I had 
 forged the beastly cheque, but to be hauled up in this way when I knew 
 no more about the robbery than the Bishop of London does of the 
 double- shuffle, is enough to make a fellow's heart go off like a bottle 
 of ginger-beer and choke him outright." Unfortunate Phil did not 
 belong to that class of high-minded mortals who find their consola- 
 tion in their approving conscience. He was not one of that order of 
 philosophers who walk singing to the stake ; but howled and wept as 
 loud as any baby teething. The policemen had almost to carry him 
 along, so determinedly did he throw himself back, as if to resist their 
 progress. 
 
 Now, when Inspector Darley requires the presence of Radcliff 
 Tom, that he may be allowed an opportunity of explaining away that 
 little house-breaking affair at Notting-hill, the intelligent officer seeks 
 for the daring thief among his haunts in the Mint. He enters the 
 tap-room of the "Blue Cow," and seeing his man sipping gin, merely 
 beckons to him, saying, "Here, Ned, you're wanted." Although 
 the ruffian knows that this simple phrase means, perhaps, seven 
 years "beyond the seas," yet he leaves the room as readily as if his 
 sweetheart had sent for him, and walks off to the police-station with- 
 out the least murmur. Eadcliffe Ned has no doubt of his own guilt, 
 and he yields himself into the hands of justice as meekly as a cab 
 horse allows itself to be placed between the shafts. But our innocent 
 boy could no more understand why he should be deprived of his 
 liberty than a young colt out at grass, and he plunged and kicked, 
 roared, and jibed, using every artifice in his power to break away from 
 his captors. By the time he reached the station-house he was very 
 hot and crumpled, and most certainly looked as if he was capable of 
 any possible outrage on society. 
 
 The police-court in which the prisoner was to be examined had 
 formerly been a private residence. It had been ingeniously converted 
 into one of the most inconvenient tribunals it is possible to conceive. 
 It was not a palace, but a kind of lodging-house of justice. The 
 grand audience-chamber where the guilty where tried was situated on 
 'the drawing-room floor. To add a grandeur to the apartment the 
 ceiling had been removed and the first and second stories knocked 
 
 Q 
 
226 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 into one, whereby it was not only rendered lofty and airy, but it also 
 enjoyed the advantage of having six windows. In the quondam coal- 
 cellars, pantry, and sculleries the guilty males were locked up, whilst 
 the criminal females were allowed the use of the butler's pantry and 
 the front kitchen. 
 
 It was into the back parlour that Philip was first ushered, and the 
 charge was taken down by a sergeant, whose plated buttons shone 
 against his dark uniform bright as stars on a frosty night. Our silly 
 youth, determined to let slip no opportunity of protesting his in- 
 nocence, thought it a favourable moment for informing this official 
 that he was entirely guiltless of the crime ; but instead of being lis- 
 tened to, the stern order was given to " remove him." And the lad 
 was whipped from the sergeant's presence as unceremoniously as an 
 empty dish. 
 
 When the time came for his case to be heard, Philip, strongly 
 guarded by four powerfully-built policemen, ascended in state the 
 stairs leading to the drawing-room. He felt his valour evaporate 
 rapidly as he stood before the judge who could as easily send him to 
 prison as he could order a letter to be posted. There sat the stern 
 magistrate, looking, despite his light summer waistcoat and blue 
 coat with brass buttons, very awful and majestic. The delinquent 
 muttered a short prayer that the gentleman's health might be singu- 
 larly good that day, and incline him to leniency, and then turned his 
 eyes to the bald-headed clerk who sat at the lower desk, and instanta- 
 neously taking a dislike to that functionary, wondered to himself 
 " what that yellow old buffer had to do with it." The mob of fifteen 
 who crowded the public portion of the court became interested as 
 they heard that Phil was charged with passing a forged cheque for 
 three hundred pounds. The reporter who, until then, had been 
 trimming his nails, seized his pen to take down the interesting details, 
 and even the magistrate and his clerk stared at the stripling as if 
 wondering by what hydraulic pressure of circumstances so much vice 
 had been squeezed into so small a body. " What's his name ?" asked 
 the magistrate. And as he did not distinctly catch the words " Philip 
 Merton," his chief clerk was kind enough to assist him by saying it 
 was Philip Burton, a mistake which another official most courteously 
 corrected by stating it to be "Philip Grurton," whilst one of the 
 policemen endeavoured to prevent mistakes by asserting it to be 
 "Philip Turpen." 
 
 One after another did the different witnesses give their evidence 
 against Phil, and all the time the magistrate and his clerk were enter- 
 ing in their books every word that was spoken. To hear these accu- 
 sations brought against him, and to see them all written down as 
 gospel truth, so roused the indignant fire in Phil's bosom, that he 
 boiled over with impatience to repel the charges, and exclamations 
 such as "If you please, sir," or " Upon my word, sir," bubbled up to 
 his mouth. Even the magistrate's command to " Hold your tongue, 
 boy," could not awe him into silence. When his turn at last came to 
 tell his own version of the story, his tongue rattled along at such a 
 pace that the chief clerk, although he scribbled down the statement : 
 with a speed that made the feather of his quill dance about like a 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 227 
 
 thing of life, had to call out " not so fast" with every other word 
 spoken. 
 
 This preliminary examination ended in Philip being remanded 
 whilst the police were ordered to use every possible exertion in tracing 
 out the foreigner who styled himself the representative of Messieurs 
 " Alphonse Lerouville et C ! % Lyons and London." One portion of 
 this examination pained Philip excessively. The magistrate inquired 
 of the police whether any of them had previously known anything of 
 the prisoner. An officer, who was getting so stout in the service that 
 if he remained much longer the witness-box would have to be enlarged 
 to accommodate him, remarked that he thought he remembered having 
 seen Philip's face somewhere that he couldn't call to mind — some- 
 where that he couldn't exactly remember. This random evidence 
 made Phil give so big a sigh that it is wonderful how he could have 
 heaved it. 
 
 On suspicion of being a vagabond, Philip was treated as one. The 
 effect produced by this usage was to convince him that to respect the 
 law was a waste of time. Although he had struggled bravely to keep 
 out of harm's way, he was no better off in the end than if he had been 
 the most arrant miscreant breathing. 
 
 It was perfectly just that Philip should have been detained, but it 
 was also perfectly just that his imprisonment should not have been of 
 the same severity as that allotted to a hardened malefactor. He was 
 taken down to the back area of the building, and placed in a cell 
 about as large as a coal-cellar. So terrible did this wretched, dark 
 dungeon of a place seem, that the boy drew back, saying beseech- 
 ingly, " Oh ! not in there." But a strong arm pushed him in, and 
 the lock was turned. At first he lost all control over himself, and 
 began kicking spitefully at the door until an officer came to the little 
 iron grating — about as large as a brick — and threatened him with 
 fetters if he did not keep quiet. 
 
 There were four others besides Phil in this dungeon. It was so 
 hot, that in a few seconds the perspiration burst from the boy. The 
 stench which filled the place was so overpowering that the lad held his 
 cap over his nose and mouth, so that he might filter the air through 
 the cloth. The only means adopted to ventilate the dungeon was 
 the small grating before mentioned, and although the crack under the 
 door assisted in a small degree to moderate the poisonous effects of 
 the atmosphere, still the position of the five prisoners resembled, to 
 a painful degree, that of a mouse under the receiver of an air-pump. 
 It was only a question of time to produce the same deadly effect. Had 
 a joint of mutton been hung up in that cell, it would in a few hours 
 have been unfit for use. 
 
 People in misfortune soon become friendly. "When Phil had told 
 his companions his tale of distress, they also favoured him with their 
 revelations. One was a youth dressed in a second-hand kind of 
 fashion, whose misfortune had been to meet with a zealous detective 
 in private clothes at the very moment when his hand had accidentally 
 strayed into a lady's pocket. Another youth had been fined for 
 assaulting a policeman whilst in a state of intoxication, and a third 
 had by mistake passed off a bad half-crown, and four pounds' worth of 
 
 q2 
 
228 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the same pewter coin being found in his pockets, he had been most 
 shamefully, he said, convicted as an experienced smasher. The 
 fourth gentleman was a Mr. Mudgster, who had been taken up for 
 obstructing the thoroughfare with " his little apparatus," by which 
 term he designated a nut-board, at which ladies and gentlemen ad- 
 dicted to sport shot for Barcelonas. " That's why I was sent to this 
 here black hole of Calcutter," cried Mr. M., " though it hadn't got 
 nothin' at all to do with no obstructions of no sort, but only because 
 I would square the policeman." By squaring, Mr. Mudgster meant 
 bribing. This proprietor of the miniature shooting-gallery, perceiving 
 that Phil was the most worthy of his companions, endeavoured to enter 
 into conversation with him, by inquiring how long a term he expected 
 to get for the forgery, and whether he would rather be transported, 
 or only have three years of it at Coldbath-fields. "Worn out by the 
 morning's excitement, Phil was almost heart-broken to find that even 
 among all the prisoners his assertions of innocence were not believed. 
 "With tears in his eyes, he endeavoured to convince the proprietor of 
 the nut-board that he was the victim of cruel circumstances. He 
 even related to that gentleman the greater portion of his persecutions 
 through life, in the hope of impressing him in his favour. For two 
 hours did Mr. Mudgster listen to the affecting biography, only inter- 
 rupting the narrative occasionally by such exclamations, as " That's 
 a rum start !" or urging him on by inquiring, " What was the next 
 move that he was up to ?" The story was, unfortunately, interrupted 
 at its most interesting period by the arrival of an officer, who in- 
 formed Mr. Mudgster that his old woman (meaning that excellent 
 lady Mrs. Mudgster) had been selling her pots and pans, and raised 
 the twenty shillings' fine for which he was detained. He did not 
 leave, however, without saying farewell to Phil, adding, " If you get 
 over this, and wants a job, come to me, which is Mudgster, Old Kent- 
 road, and I'll see what ha'pence you're fit for." 
 
 For more than a week Philip was in custody. He was taken in 
 the public van to the House of Detention and back again to the 
 police-court twice before his innocence was admitted. It was prin- 
 cipally through the evidence of Viscount Ascot that he escaped being 
 tried at the Old Bailey. That nobleman spoke so decidedly of his 
 suspicions of Colonel Eattaplan, and his evidence agreed so thoroughly 
 | with the boy's story, that the magistrate was forced to discharge the 
 prisoner. 
 
 (Another curious circumstance which had great weight on Philip's 
 side of the scale was, that the dashing French officer, although care- 
 fully sought for and inquired after by many smart detectives, could 
 I nowhere be found in London, the only place where they could hear 
 I anything about him being a cigar shop in Oxford-street, where he 
 owed a small account of three guineas. 
 
 Our friend Captain Crosier was so hurt at finding that he had 
 been " taken in" by the foreigner, that he wrote no fewer than three 
 letters on the subject to the French Government. In the answers 
 which he received from the French Minister of "War, he was assured 
 that no such person as Victor Baudin Eattaplan had ever been colonel 
 of the 1 l e Leger. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 229 
 
 " I can't make it out," said the captain, when he was defending 
 himself to his lordship, who rated him severely for having introduced 
 such a rogue into his society — " I can't make it out. The man 
 seemed to know all about our family. Besides, how could I doubt a 
 man who brought such excellent letters of recommendation ?" 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 BERTHA IN DANGER. 
 
 It is ten million pities that we cannot serve our dirty human 
 nature the same as we do our dirty linen, so that by sending our 
 impure thoughts and foul intentions to some moral wash, we might 
 have them returned again milk-white and starched ready to make us 
 respectable for at least a week. "What a comfort it would be to 
 clothe ourselves in unsullied goodness as easily as we slip on a clean 
 shirt, or surround our bosoms with spotless innocence with no more 
 exertion than is required to put on a white waistcoat ! 
 
 If Virtue had turned washerwoman, she could not have had a more 
 constant customer than Captain Crosier. Every week she would 
 have taken away from hia house a bundle of impurities and immo- 
 ralities enough to break in the shoulders of a Co vent-garden basket- 
 woman. "What we are going to relate of his wicked attempts upon 
 defenceless Bertha would alone have been sufficient to make up a 
 heavy washing bill. Among other items, there w r ould have been at 
 least 100 profligate ideas, 20 false oaths, 3 deliberate deceptions, 
 4 meannesses, and 6 seductive temptations. 
 
 It almost looked as if the captain was taking those vast pains 
 simply for the amusement of his club friends. Whenever he met 
 them, he had invariably some fresh incident to relate of how his 
 deep-plotted schemes had been frustrated by the vigilant Miss 
 Tomsey. " Begad, Tom," he would say to Mr. Oxendon, " I shall 
 have to get you to buck up to the old girl, and carry her off. She 
 spoils everything. I should have managed my little wench in half 
 the time if it had not been for her." The joking that took place 
 about the dinner that was to be forfeited was very offensive to the 
 gallant Merton. Even whilst he was protesting that his success was 
 inevitable, the wags would be selecting the dishes which they would 
 prefer for the Richmond banquet ; so that Bertha somehow got mixed 
 up with " Mushrooms en surprise, with a puree of game," and Miss 
 Tomsey was strangely confounded with " hare boned and stuffed, with 
 cream sauce." 
 
 Yery much puzzled was Bertha to imagine how the letters she so 
 often found on her dressing-table when she went to bed could pos- 
 sibly have been smuggled into the house. She would take them un- 
 opened to Miss Tomsey, when her indignation would, even late as it 
 
230 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 was, have all the servants into the room, and questioned as to who 
 dared to take such a liberty in her establishment. But if innocence 
 consisted in protestations, never were domestics more wrongly ac- 
 cused. It was affecting to hear Mrs. Wortey wish that she might 
 drop down dead if she knew anything about it, and the indignation 
 of both Mary Anne and the scullery maid could only be equalled by 
 the haughty denials of Mr. Boxer. One after another were these 
 love-letters flung into the fire without even being opened. For, al- 
 though Miss Tomsey's fingers were itching to break the seal to see 
 what " that fellow" had to write about, yet never once did she allow 
 her curiosity to get the better of her. 
 
 Whoever the traitor in the house might have been, it is too late 
 now to inquire ; but that a secret correspondence was kept up be- 
 tween the captain and Miss Tomsey's servants was most certain. 
 Indeed, the mistress, having one day occasion to travel as far as 
 Clapham, she had not left the house ten minutes before Mr. Crosier 
 knocked at the door. Unless he had received private intimation that 
 the old lady would be absent for four hours he would never have 
 dared to make the visit. The first intimation that Bertha had of her 
 admirer's call was the tussle which took place between him and Mr. 
 Boxer in the passage, " I have orders not to admit you, sir," shouted 
 the footman. But the bold officer broke from the humble menial as 
 easily as a wasp from a cobweb. Before the girl was aware of it, her 
 admirer was in the room, bowing to her as humbly as a linen-draper 
 to a duchess. 
 
 He told the trembling girl that in self-defence he had been forced 
 to seek this interview. His letters, he complained, were not only 
 unanswered, but, he had reason to believe, even unread. " Was this 
 just ?" he asked; and meeting with no reply, he took upon himself to 
 affirm that it was cruelly unfair. " The meanest culprit," he affirmed, 
 " was at least tried before he was condemned." He would have con- 
 tinued speaking much longer, had not Bertha, who had retreated to 
 one of the windows, trembled so that he knew his speeches would be 
 lost upon her. The hand with which she clutched the curtain shook 
 as if palsied. He tried to advance towards her, but in a moment she 
 had stepped on to the balcony, and looked so much as if she would 
 jump into the street that he thought it prudent to draw back again. 
 This great fear on her part was the result of the many warnings which 
 Miss Tomsey had given. Bertha said she was fully impressed with 
 the belief that if the captain could but once lay his hands upon her, 
 |he would carry her off as surely as the devil did Dr. Eaustus. 
 ^ One great evil resulted from the mistress's over anxiety to protect 
 her maiden, and that was that, in the course of half an hour, Bertha 
 discovered the captain was not the dangerous and desperate man he 
 had been described. He entreated her in the most pathetic manner 
 to be seated and listen to him, and he even brought the chair to her 
 with a grace that surpassed that of the stout Boxer as incomparably 
 as do the elegant poses of Taglioni excel the attitudes of a 'bus con- 
 ductor. The great importance which had been attached to all the 
 captain's sayings and doings, gave to his violent declarations of love 
 a weight and consequence, and she listened withal to the bombast 
 which at other times she would have laughed at. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 231 
 
 At least half a dozen times did the amorous officer volunteer to 
 leave the room if she desired it, but as she dared not trust herself to 
 answer him, he concluded that she assented to the interview. Then did 
 he begin to pour out a flood of vows and protestations such as would 
 have carried away and dashed to pieces the strongest embankment of 
 virtue. How many girls on ten pounds a year and a month's notice 
 would have struggled against this -torrent of praise ? The two big 
 eyes of Bertha grew round as penny pieces with astonishment. At 
 first she feared he had gone mad ; then imagined he had learnt it 
 from a book; and, at last, began to believe him. 
 
 " Do not fancy, beautiful Bertha," he said, in a low voice, for fear 
 anybody should be listening at the door — " do not fancy that I would 
 harm you. I come here to offer you my services — to benefit you, if 
 I can. I would be your best friend. If any injury threatened you, 
 I would break through walls, and peril my life to save you. I would 
 
 " (Here followed five other examples of the great risks he should 
 
 feel but too enchanted to run if he could possibly be of the slightest 
 service to the maiden. Among the most significant of these were 
 perils from fire and water, and the dangers of the battle-field. Lv 
 deed he talked of pouring out his heart's blood as calmly as if he 
 owned cisterns full of it.) " Then," continued the captain, " why 
 have you taken so unconquerable a dislike to one who feels so ardent 
 an affection for you ? It is because I am what is called a gentleman. 
 If I came to you dressed in mean clothing — if I had to labour hard 
 for my living — then my courtship would not be oppose^. Simply be- 
 cause my coat is of cloth, the doors are barred against me. Because 
 my income is large, admittance is refused. Yet you see I address 
 you with respect, and there is nothing to be feared in my be- 
 haviour." 
 
 Her head was turning with wonder at what she heard, but she 
 could not help confessing that there was a great deal of truth in what 
 he said. Before he left her, he made her promise that not only she 
 would not mention his visit to her lady, but that she would consent 
 to read the next letter he wrote. 
 
 That night she lay awake many hours, thinking over the love 
 phrases and their mysterious utterer. He swore so strongly to his 
 affection for her that she could not help believing him a little. A 
 judge of the land would have been influenced by one tithe of his 
 oaths. Many a man has been hung on fewer. If Jove, as they say, 
 laughs at lovers' perjuries, his heathen godship must have laughed 
 heartily — that is to say, supposing that the captain was a false-hearted 
 deceiver. 
 
 Next day Bertha found a letter on her table'. She opened it, pre- 
 pared to find at least four sides — crossed and recrossed — of most 
 desperate protestations of love. To her utter astonishment there was 
 but one line, informing her that on the morrow she would receive a 
 visit from her mother. The proceedings of this unaccountable man 
 puzzled her more and more. What could he have to say to a work- 
 house nurse ? And the only reply that she could find was that he had 
 gone there to beseech for her interference with her hard-hearted 
 daughter. 
 
 For the next twelve hours Bertha's behaviour and manner were 
 
232 PAYED Wip GOLD. 
 
 such as Miss Tomsey did not approve of. She was so absent that 
 several times her mistress had to speak twice to her before she could 
 get an answer. Her hands, instead of flying about her work, moved 
 so slowly as to bring down the reprimand " that she had better go to 
 bed if she was sleepy." "Whilst reading the newspaper after dinner, 
 she made many mistakes — talking of a hive in JPermondsey, and a 
 dreadful surder in 2?oho ; for although Bertha saw the letters she 
 was paying no attention to their meaning, but putting the question 
 to herself, why the captain had visited her mother ? It is no wonder 
 that Miss Tomsey lost her patience, and cried out, " Bertha ! how 
 can you be so absurd ? You are thinking about that fellow, instead 
 of paying attention to the newspaper. It is useless your entertain- 
 ing any melodramatic notions, and fancying yourself the heroine of a 
 domestic drama. I won't have any victims in my house, so pray 
 don't think of the wretch." 
 
 " I was thinking of my mother," nervously stammered Bertha. 
 
 " Nonsense, child ! go on with the murder," replied the mis- 
 tress. 
 
 Presently, when Bertha and Mrs. Hazlewood were seated in the 
 back library, chatting together, she learnt the motives which induced 
 the fashionable officer to visit the workhouse nurse of St. Lazarus 
 Without. Now, indeed, did she feel a great liking for the man. 
 
 " I couldn't for the life of me, Bertha, imagine what he wanted. 
 He's a handsome fellow, and has the most remarkable eyes, I think, I 
 ever saw. Says he, f Mrs. Hazlewood, you have a daughter for whom 
 I have the highest admiration and respect.' You should have heard 
 him talk about you, Bertha, it quite brought tears to my eyes. ' For 
 my sake, madam,' says he, ' I should like to be of some service to you,' 
 and then he actually proposed taking me from the workhouse, and 
 setting me up in a lodging-house to let apartments. These were his 
 very words : ' I can tell at once from your looks and bearing that you 
 would be able to earn a comfortable living at it.' You may fancy 
 how I stared — but I'm sure you can't — you never can. Then what 
 did he do, but slip these five sovereigns into my hand, and, before 
 I had time to thank him, he was off." 
 
 What could Bertha think of all this, but that Captain Crosier was, 
 after all, a good and honourable gentleman ? She might have been 
 suspicious of his love for her, but his goodness to her mother in the 
 workhouse admitted but of one interpretation. She felt so grateful 
 to him that she almost hated Miss Tomsey for having ever mistaken 
 his motives. In her turn Bertha told her mother all that had hap- 
 pened, and after mentioning her mistress's objection to her admirer's 
 visits, concluded by a'sking the old nurse's opinion. She might just 
 as well have sought advice from a lamp post, for the old lady could 
 take but one view of the case. She thought her Bertha the most 
 beautiful girl in the world, and after his conduct that morning, she 
 could not help considering the captain as being the perfection of 
 mankind. " Miss Tomsey may mean it very well," said the old lady, 
 " but it strikes me she is ' crying wolf before her lamb's in danger. 
 There's no doubt about the matter. This gentleman's in love with 
 you — he's violently in love with you." 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 233 
 
 The objection raised by Bertha was, " how could so rich and fine a 
 gentleman think favourably of so poor a girl ?" and this led to a long 
 cross-examination, during which Bertha had to imitate as closely 
 as possible the expression of the young man whilst speaking, 
 so that the mother might judge whether he was in earnest in his 
 courtship. The girl was asked whether he ever rolled his eyes, or 
 put on a tender air. One question was, whether he was pale when 
 first entering the room, and then gradually became flushed ? whether 
 his voice trembled and his knees shook ? Great stress was laid upon 
 whether he had ever been observed to gnaw his finger ends, tear at 
 his gloves, or dash his hair off his forehead. The good old lady had 
 once been to the theatre, and" on that occasion the lover in the piece 
 had during his interview with the fair one used most of these actions 
 whilst revealing his passion. She therefore concluded that such was 
 the usual pantomime employed during courtship. It was useless for 
 Bertha to insist that she had never had sufficient courage to watch 
 the captain's demeanour. The mother requested her so often to try 
 and remember, and to think well, that at last the daughter was forced 
 to make the required admissions. Then Bertha, blushing up to her 
 eyes, repeated Miss Tomsey's warning that "the fellow" meant no 
 good, and was only working her ruin. "With an expression of horror 
 Dame Hazlewood wondered how anybody could have " such uncha- 
 ritable notions." 
 
 " She meant that I am merely a servant, and he is an officer, and 
 very rich," stammered Bertha ; " and it does seem strange that when 
 he must know so many beautiful ladies he should choose to marry a 
 girl like me." 
 
 " Lord bless me !" replied the mother, " when men are in love they 
 do all sorts of strange things. Now look at that great Peter of 
 Russia. He married a common girl that served behind the bar in 
 the canteens. Then, again, many of the judges and the first lords 
 in the land have married their cooks. And as for taking up with 
 their housekeepers, that's quite a common custom with gentlefolks. 
 Then why shouldn't he take a fancy to you?" 
 
 "With such overpowering arguments against her, what could poor 
 Bertha answer? She sighed, and said, " How happy it would make 
 her to see her mother away from the workhouse, and earning an 
 honest living. That was what she most thought of." Nor was the old 
 nurse less delighted with the idea of living free of the parish, and being 
 her own mistress again. The idea of having a house of her own had 
 materially influenced her in framing her opinion of Captain Crosier's 
 intentions, or she would never have told her daughter to countenance 
 that gentleman's addresses, and not to judge too hastily until they 
 had cause for suspicion. 
 
 As the old lady hurried back to the Union, the journey seemed 
 short enough, so busy was she wondering where her house would be, 
 and how much her drawing-rooms and parlours would let for. But 
 Bertha remained for nearly an hour without changing her position, 
 asking herself whether such a state of things was possible in a way 
 that implied she was certain it was not. It was only when the candle 
 was burnt down to the socket that she awoke from her trance. 
 
234 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 OUT NUTTING. 
 
 It so happened that Mr. Tobias Sparkler, when he was fatigued 
 with his day's exertions, or in any way depressed in spirits, would 
 retire to a beer-shop in his neighbourhood, and try to forget his own 
 troubles by reading in the daily paper the misfortunes that had be- 
 fallen other people. Thus, " Another Eatal Collision. — Eoue 
 Lives Lost," would, even on his worst business days, make him ex- 
 claim, " "Well, I ain't so bad off as those poor chaps ;" and a " Fright- 
 ful Suicide" has been known — although one half of his donkeys had 
 been idle all day long — to draw forth the remark that he " didn't 
 feel inclined for that kind of lark yet awhile, thank God." On one 
 of these occasions he was noticed by his friends to be seized with a 
 sudden fit of what they, in their rude medical knowledge, termed the 
 " staggers." He had been reading quietly enough, when in a moment 
 he leaped from his seat, struck the newspaper violently, and then 
 stamping with a force that made the spittoons jump like crickets, 
 roared out, " Why, curse my hat and gaiters, if one o' my chaps ain't 
 been hauled up for boning three hundred pounds !" There was no 
 more newspaper -reading that evening at the " Cat and Kitten," for 
 Mr. Sparkler had too many questions put to him to be able to do 
 anything else than answer them. "I'd ha' trusted that boy," he 
 said, " wi' the national debt in ha'pence. I never see such a face. 
 It smiled at you like an engraving, and every speck of it looked 
 honesty. And here, you see he's been boning three hundred pounds ! 
 I should as soon of thought of his going off with a donkey in his 
 waistcoat pocket. Ah ! human natur ! human natur ! who can be up 
 to your dodges ? I had made up my mind he had only bolted from 
 me, whereas he has turned prig." 
 
 The worthy donkey-keeper's excited feelings were still prejudiced 
 against Philip when, one afternoon, that young gentleman appeared 
 before him to solicit a renewal of his employment. The master fell 
 back in astonishment at the impudence of the request. He led the 
 youth to a secluded corner, and thus addressed him. " If you'd 
 asked me to lend you a twenty-pound note, you'd ha' had more 
 chance. "Why, curse your young bones ! what do you mean by it ? 
 Come back to me after that there three hundred pound affair ? Just 
 step it," and he indicated the road he was to take by pointing to- 
 wards Hendon. Philip's prayers and entreaties, although they in 
 some degree softened Mr. Sparkler's heart, only ended in a moral 
 lecture. " You must say ' Ajew,' my lad, for its good- by between us. 
 Now, just ask yourself, do you think a chap as is game for such work 
 as you've been up to, is to be trusted with a weak infant or a shaky 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 235 
 
 invalid. "Why I should expect to find the chairs and side-saddlea 
 come home empty and find you'd ruined me by a highway robbery. 
 No, no, young 'un, try Hounslow Heath, for Hampstead is barred and 
 bolted agin you for the rest of your mortal life." 
 
 This advice Philip did not think it prudent to follow, for instead of 
 trudging towards Hounslow, he made the best of his way to the Old 
 Kent-road, and there he found Mr. Mudgster watching over his 
 shooting-board, and calling out in a loud voice, " Try a shot, gentle- 
 men! try a shot, ladies-! Twenty in the bull's-eye ! Plenty for your 
 sport, and nuts for nothing !" After congratulating the lad upon his 
 acquittal, " Mr. Mudgster, guessing at the object of the visit, said, " I 
 suppose it's all play time with you, my boy, and you're cursed like a 
 pig up a Jews' court. Well, you're come at the right time, for I and 
 my missus are off on the circuit to work the country this day week, 
 and I'll give you a job." 
 
 The remainder of that evening was passed in pleasant conversation, 
 the principal topic of which was the beauty of Mr. Mudgster's shoot- 
 ing-board. "It's one of the handsomest in town," observed the pro- 
 prietor, " and as I say, Kelly's masterpiece — for he's the chap that 
 painted it — and there's nobody like him for showiness as a artist." 
 (This board was a comic one.) " The sentimental ones ain't no good," 
 he continued. There was painted on this screen the figure of a clown, 
 and on his breast was a target at which the dart3 were aimed. The 
 clown had his eyes and knees turned in, and was supposed to be saying, 
 " I'm looking at you," for those words were written inside a bladder is- 
 suing from the mouth. On the wings on each side of the board were 
 painted several scenes. One was of a Jack Tar slaying some twenty 
 Chinese, and, by means of another bladder, crying, " Peace or war, you 
 varmint, but none of your tricks." Another was an illustration of a 
 soldier alarmed by a shower of cannon-balls, and exclaiming, " Oh! dear, 
 I wish I was at home with mother." But Kelly's chef-d'oeuvre, and the 
 painting which the owner most frequently dusted with his cap, was a re- 
 presentation of a house on fire, with a fire-engine tearing along at 
 full speed and a policeman tumbling over a dog. " I've promised my 
 missus to have that there picture framed some of these days," said 
 Mr Mudgster, admiring it with his head on one side. " It's a sweet 
 pretty thing, and as nat'ral as if it took place." 
 
 The nut vendor had certain prearranged jokes with which he 
 always entertained his customers. If a young woman took up the 
 rifle, he would say to her after each shot, " Well done, miss ! If you 
 marries as well as you fires, you'll have an easy time of it." Or he 
 would cry, " You've a beautiful eye, mum, and as true as print, and 
 happy's the man you wink at." To the gentlemen he would remark, 
 " Try another shot, sir, and you'll be a man now before your mother." 
 When Philip heard these things said for the first time, he laughed 
 excessively, but owing to their being repeated some twenty times in 
 the course of an hour, the force of their humour was considerably 
 weakened. 
 
 The trip to the country was more a matter of necessity than choice 
 with Mr. Mudgster. Most of his pots and pans had gone to pay his 
 police fine, and he proposed to refurnish his room w r ith the profits to 
 
236 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 arise from the visits to fairs and race-courses. " Battersea-fields," 
 Mr. Mudgster would say, " was once tidy ground to me, but now no 
 good. I have taken 36s. of an afternoon in them there fields, but 
 now that's all up." 
 
 To his friendship for this man Philip may be said to have owed his 
 ruin, for from travelling about the country with him, he became so 
 accustomed to a wandering life, that he was unable, when he re- 
 turned to London, to adapt himself to any settled employment. 
 
 The day before they started on their rounds, Philip accompanied 
 his new master to Duke's-place, in Houndsditch, the costermongers' 
 great market for nuts. 
 
 Duke's-place, as the costers have christened it, is a large square 
 yard, with a dead wall forming one entire side, and a gas lamp on a 
 circular pavement in the centre. Every householder in it is a Jew. 
 The place looks as if it were devoted to money making, for it is quiet 
 and dirty. Over the shops are no names in gilt letters ; there is no 
 display of plate glass, or glass mouldings, such as in the crowded 
 thoroughfares where the customer is to be caught by show. The 
 Israelite merchants know their trade to be so certain, they are con- 
 tent to let the London smoke do their painter's work. Never did 
 property in Chancery look more ruinous, for every house seems in the 
 last stage of dilapidation. The beams and ceilings are as black as if a 
 fire had raged in the dwelling — not a shop in the market but is win- 
 dowless and open as a coal-shed — and beyond the few baskets of nuts 
 exposed for sale, they are empty, the walls within being blackened 
 with dirt, and the paint without blistered by the sun, while the door- 
 posts are worn round with the shoulders of the customers, and 
 blackened as if charred. A few dejected-looking hens wander about, 
 turning over the heaps of dried leaves that the oranges have been 
 packed in, or mope the time away roosting on the rails and wheels of 
 the nearest truck. Excepting on certain market days, business is 
 slack in Duke's-place, so that many of the shops have one or two shut- 
 ters up, as if a death had taken place, and the large yard is as quiet 
 as that of a quondam posting-house. At a little distance, the ware- 
 houses with low ceilings, open fronts, and black sides, seem like dark 
 holes. Were it not for the mahogany backs of chairs visible at the 
 first floors, nobody would believe that the houses are inhabited ; but in 
 these drawing-rooms the floors are covered with thick Turkey carpets 
 — old paintings in gorgeous frames hang against the walls, and the 
 most comfortable easy-chairs stand on each side of the fireplace. 
 There are not handsomer mahogany chairs, richer pier-glasses, or 
 more elegant chandeliers to be found in a West-end mansion than 
 those with which these Jewish salons are furnished. 
 
 The appearance of a customer at such an unusual time caused some 
 little excitement among the nut merchants. Very often was Mr. 
 Mudgster beckoned by half a dozen rival vendors at once, but he paid 
 no attention either to their signals, or the flattering words that ac- 
 companied them, but made his round of the warehouses in a calm, 
 deliberate manner. At the door of one where they stopped, sat an 
 old woman with jet-black hair, and a face dried and wrinkled as a fig. 
 She was nursing an infant, and watching over the mat-baskets of 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 237 
 
 nuts ranged on a kind of carpenter's bench placed on the pavement. 
 The interior of the shop was as empty as a loft, excepting a few bits 
 of harness hanging against the wall, and an old salt-box nailed near 
 the gas burner, in which sat a hen hatching. " Ton't you like te 
 looksh of tern ?" muttered the woman, as Mr. Mudgster, after feel- 
 ing the weight of the nuts, moved on. At another warehouse where 
 they stopped, there was a stout, gaudy Israelite mother, with crisp 
 negro's hair, her long gold earrings swinging to and fro as she rolled 
 her child on the table used for salting the nuts. Here the black walls 
 had been chalked over with scores, and every corner of the shop w r as 
 filled up with sacks and orange-cases. Before one warehouse was a 
 family of six, all busy, from the father to the infant, washing wal- 
 nuts in a huge tub, and around them were baskets of the wet fruit 
 standing to drain. The Jewish women are known to make the fondest 
 parents, and in Duke's-place there certainly was no lack of fondlings. 
 Inside almost every shop a child was either being nursed or romped 
 with. Some of the little things were being tossed nearly to the ceil- 
 ing, and caught, screaming with enjoyment, in the jewelled hands of 
 the delighted mother. At other warehouses were seated a family 
 circle of five or six women — from the old grandmother down to the 
 youngest unmarried grandchild — grouped admiringly round a fine- 
 nosed infant, tickling it, and poking their ringed fingers into its 
 plump little cheeks in a frenzy of affection. 
 
 The counters of these shops were generally placed, like stalls, in the 
 open streets, and the shop itself only used as an empty store to keep 
 the stock in. On these counters were ranged large baskets of dif- 
 ferent kinds of nuts, some piled up with dark brown polished 
 chesnuts, shining like a racer's neck; others filled with wedge-shaped 
 Brazil-nuts. There were heaps, too, of newly-washed walnuts, a few 
 showing their crumpled kernels as a sample of their excellence. Before 
 every doorway w r ere cases of oranges, with the yellow fruit just seen 
 through the bulging lathes on the top. 
 
 In front of one stall, the paving-stones were soft with the sawdust 
 emptied from the grape-boxes. The Jewish merchant, in a gold- 
 tasselled smoking cap, was puffing with his bellows at the blue bunches 
 on a tray. About him were other grape-boxes, with the paper lids 
 thrown back and the round sea-green berries just rising above the 
 sawdust, as if floating in it. Close by was a group of dark-eyed 
 women bending over an orange-case, picking out the rotten from the 
 good fruit, while a girl in black satin was busy with her knife scoop- 
 ing out the damaged parts. "What with the sawdust and the orange- 
 peel the air smelt like that of a circus on a summer's night. 
 
 Mr. Mudgster had brought a good sum of money with him, and his 
 custom was so unexpected that the merchant of whom he made his 
 purchase proposed a glass of ale at the Jewellers' Arms, close by. 
 Whilst they were enjoying their tipple, the nut-vendor informed them 
 that if they wanted to see a sight they should come to that tavern on 
 a Sunday morning, for very often the bar-counter might be seen 
 covered with golden ornaments, and sparkling with precious stones 
 worth thousands and thousands of pounds. The jewellers came there 
 to exchange their trinkets, and barter amongst themselves. 
 
 We do not intend following Mr. Mudgster through the whole of 
 
238 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 bis provincial tour. As that gentleman travelled over some hundreds 
 of miles, the exploit would be too fatiguing. "We shall merely men- 
 tion that he was accompanied on his journey by Mrs. Mudgster and 
 the children, who, as they took with them a donkey and barrow, 
 seldom over-fatigued themselves with walking. With a husband's 
 tenderness, Mr. M. constructed a tilt out of an old blanket, so that 
 the inclemencies of the weather might not affect the health of his 
 family. Whenever they came to a hill, both master and man 
 humanely pushed behind, and even in descending an acclivity, Philip 
 invariably stayed the impetus of the vehicle by acting as a kind of 
 skid. If business had always been prosperous, the happiness of this 
 family would have been uninterrupted, but it sometimes happened 
 that even when their appetites were keenest, they could not muster 
 sufficient money to purchase a breakfast. In such cases, Mr. 
 Mudgster did not think it beneath his dignity to borrow a swede 
 turnip or two from a field on the way. If he saw his old woman 
 — as he familiarly termed his wife — look discontented with the meal, 
 he would try to flavour the vegetable with a little philosophy, telling 
 her that it was a first-rate thing for sweetening the blood, and as 
 good as medicine for the children. After all, it was a very up-and- 
 down kind of existence, at one time making very large profits, and at 
 another scarcely knowing what to do for want of a few pence. For 
 instance, at Brighton races, the receipts amounted to 21. 18s. in the 
 three days, but at Eeigate business was so bad that, on leaving the 
 town, our nutman was so inconvenienced for ready cash that he had 
 to pay the toll of the next turnpike by leaving his pocket-knife. 
 At Horsham, also, nothing being provided for the day's dinner, 
 the family dined off a box of percussion caps — that is to say, that 
 in exchange for it Mr. Mudgster obtained sufficient to purchase 
 some meat and bread. Then, encamped on the grassy side of a 
 country lane, did this roving family, having lighted a glorious fire, 
 proceed to manufacture a magnificent stew, into which entered a 
 considerable quantity of carrots, potatoes, and cabbages, which Mr. 
 M. had taken the liberty of plucking from the garden of a gentleman 
 who had forgotten to lock his gate. 
 
 For nearly two months did this little band travel about Sussex and 
 Hampshire, and so great was their industry and perseverance, that, 
 despite the heavy expenses of their establishment, the pocket of Mrs. 
 Mudgster grew heavier and heavier with their earnings. It would seem 
 that Mr. M. was an advocate for Sunday trading, experience teaching 
 him that the receipts of that one day often surpassed those of all the 
 remainder of the week. Being one day desired to deliver his opinion of 
 the people with whom he mixed during his travels, he delivered this 
 judgment : " Countrymen is, I find, very fond of shooting at the nut- 
 board, and, generally, they are a good deal better shots than the Lon- 
 doners. They are a thousand-and-one superior to the soldiers, out 
 and out. The girls and women, too, are, so to speak it, partial to the 
 sport; more so perhaps at Chichester, where I took 28s. But 
 females, as a rule, fires at random, anyhow, and don't often get into 
 the bull's-eye, which wins twenty nuts invariable." 
 
 We next find this interesting family working their way along the 
 southern coast towards Hover. Their prospects in life were so far im- 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 239 
 
 proved that Mr. Mudgster had been enabled to exchange his donkey 
 and truck for a horse and cart. He had taken such a fancy to Philip 
 that he had made him a partner in the concern. In a letter to a friend 
 in town, to whom he sent fifteen shillings to be laid out in nuts, Mr. M. 
 makes use of these remarkable words : " Pitches is wery tidy, and 
 business going ahead, and as prosperous as to be hoped. But roads 
 are bad, and horses suffer amazen." 
 
 As some persons may imagine that there was a chance of the nut- 
 man losing — supposing that all his customers were crack shots — we 
 will, for the last time, quote from him, and use the very words he 
 spoke on an occasion when this subject was under discussion. " "When 
 people are lucky, and gets in the bull's-eye, they'll have as many as 
 sixpen'orth of goes right off. I like to see them get in the bull's- 
 eye, because they're more like to stick to the sport, and, then, other 
 people that are looking on come up, and has a fire too." 
 
 It is a pity that those who in adversity have been firm friends 
 should, when their struggles are at last crowned with success, allow 
 a few hasty words to sever an intimacy which formerly the most savage 
 disputes could not even shake. Yet so it was. When in their 
 donkey-and-truck days Mr. Mudgster and his assistant quarrelled at 
 Beigate, and a blow was struck and a stone thrown, an hour after- 
 wards they were drinking beer out of the same pot ; but now, alas ! 
 in their horse-and-cart prosperity, a mere difference of opinion as to 
 which turning of the road led to Margate laid the foundation of a 
 feud which eventually led to a separation. 
 
 In these altercations Mrs. M. and her eldest daughter — who al- 
 though not old enough to form an opinion, was sufficiently aged to 
 express one — invariably sided with the head of their family. Perhaps 
 the great wealth which lay concealed in the wife's pocket, and the 
 continued success of the speculation, may have influenced to a slight 
 degree the proprietor in wishing to get rid of his junior partner. 
 "Whatever the reason might have been, all chances of future disagree- 
 ment were at last removed by Philip's quitting the concern. After 
 an unusually long dispute, in which the many harsh epithets made 
 use of might have been heard at least half a mile off, the caravan 
 drew up by the side of the road, and Philip's share of the profits 
 having been agreed to at five pounds, he turned his back upon the 
 Mudgster's family, and hurried away in one direction, whilst the 
 nutinan, smacking his whip, drove off in the other. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 WHICH WILL PROVE THAT A CERTAIN FRENCH GENTLEMAN WAS NOT ONLY ALIVE, 
 
 BUT STIRRING. 
 
 It was about this time that the firm of Jonkopings, Tandstickor, 
 and Co. opened an office in London. These gentlemen were, it ap- 
 peared, Swedish merchants, largely engaged in the Eussian, Prussian, 
 Australian, American, and many other highly important trades. They 
 
240 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 had determined upon establishing an agency in England, the manage- 
 ment of which they entrusted to a confidential clerk, Monsieur Chose, 
 a gentleman of French extraction and great business energy. 
 
 The first thing that Monsieur Chose did was to take a back room 
 on a second floor in Bread-street, Cheapside. The next was to 
 order a brass-plate as big as the shield of St. George himself, and 
 have it fastened up on the most conspicuous part of the door-post. 
 All up the staircase — at every landing, in fact, was painted in large 
 black letters, " Jonkopings, Tandstickoe, and Co." o^. Indeed, 
 every provision was made for enabling the enormous mob of cus- 
 tomers who were to have transactions with the Swedish firm to find 
 out easily their way to Monsieur Chose in his little back office. 
 
 The clerks in the employment of Messrs. -Finny, Haddy, and Co. 
 (importers of Scotch goods on the first floor), were rather disgusted 
 by the prominent manner in which Monsieur Chose had blazoned all 
 over the house the name of his hitherto unknown firm. On one 
 occasion their managing gentleman, Mr. Macpipes, meeting with the 
 Frenchman on the stairs, could not help observing to him in his most 
 sarcastic manner, that " if his business was as lairge as his brauss- 
 plate, he'd soon raquiare a bigger apairtment than a wee bauck garrut." 
 Such was the French gentleman's politeness that, instead of firing up 
 at this taunt, he only laughed, and shrugged his shoulders. The easy 
 manner in which he talked of turning over a hundred thousand 
 pounds, as calmly as if it had been a haycock, made a favourable im- 
 pression upon the suspicious Macpipes. 
 
 The personal appearance of this French gentleman was simple and 
 highly business-like. He evidently despised the foppishness peculiar 
 to his countrymen. His bushy chesnut hair was seldom brushed, 
 and the only golden ornament about him was his thin gold spectacles. 
 His face was entirely shaved, and he walked with a stoop which half 
 concealed the countenance. Every day as the clock struck five, the 
 clerks of Messrs. Finny, Haddy, and Co. heard him rush down stairs, 
 and whenever they chose to peep through the door, they saw him 
 hurrying to the post with a big bundle of letters under his arm. 
 Such a vast amount of correspondence was an excellent proof of the 
 immense business Monsieur Chose carried on with Bussia, Prussia, 
 Australia, and America. 
 
 By degrees the business of the Swedish firm began to increase. 
 Carriers' vans drew up before the door, and blocked up the narrow 
 street whilst they delivered canvas-covered bales, belted in tightly 
 with iron hooping. Even Mr. Macpipes entertained a higher opinion 
 of Jonkopings and Co.'s commercial importance. "Whenever Mon- 
 sieur Chose went out, he never failed to stick upon his door a slip of 
 paper to let his visitors know that he had gone " on 'Change," or to 
 " the Bank of England," or " the Docks." He seemed perfectly over- 
 whelmed with affairs. 
 
 The terms on which Monsieur Chose did business were half cash, 
 and a bill at two months, and so exact was he in his payments, that 
 he won the confidence of Messrs. Crater, McEoney, and Co., the 
 large factors of Bow-lane, and agents for several Irish linen bleachers 
 at Belfast. His first transactions with this house might be called 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 241 
 
 small ones. In the course of conversation with any of the Irish firm, 
 the Monsieur never failed to boast of the extensive business he was 
 doing in shipping goods to Texas, Sydney, Calcutta, or St. Peters- 
 burg. He would also produce and read to the younger Mr. McEoney 
 letters which he had received from Messrs. Jonkopings, Tandstickor, 
 and Co., containing directions about the heavy purchases he was to 
 make on their account. In this manner did Monsieur Chose slowly 
 but surely earn for himself an excellent reputation amongst City men, 
 and before two months had passed — the date of the bills he had given 
 — he had grown to such intimacy with Mr. Crater, that that gentle- 
 man would drink sherry with him in the counting-house, and with 
 great playfulness solicit orders from the Swedish firm, and occa- 
 sionally he endeavoured to tempt the Frenchman with samples of 
 their linens. 
 
 One day Monsieur Chose rushed in a great hurry to the office in 
 Bow-lane. He had that morning received a letter — which he showed 
 — ordering an immense quantity of linens similar to those " as per 
 former invoice," and these stuffs were to be shipped with the least 
 delay possible direct to the Brazils. That business-pushing youth, 
 McKoney, jun., undertook to conduct Monsieur Chose over the ex- 
 tensive warehouse, and to exhibit to him their large assortment of 
 goods. If the Frenchman hesitated in his choice, the youth would 
 descant on the excellence of the linens, and the smallness of the price. 
 So irresistible was the junior partner's manner, that on almost every 
 occasion the foreigner allowed himself to be convinced. By three 
 o'clock, boxes of linen to the amount of 400?. had already been 
 selected. They only retired for a few moments to a private room up- 
 stairs, to partake of a little lunch of sherry and lobster. Business 
 men like Monsieur Chose are never long at their meals, and in less 
 than a quarter of an hour, he had dragged the young factor back 
 again to the warehouse. When the knowing Mr. McBoney had 
 pressed the foreigner to finish the bottle of sherry, the answer was 
 that he never permitted himself to drink when on business. The 
 young gentleman could not help informing Mr. Crater that he had 
 never in all his life met with such a fellow for work as the Moun- 
 seer. It was past four o'clock before the Swedish agent had com- 
 pleted his purchases, and when we affirm that he had selected stuffs 
 to the amount of 700Z., it will be easily, understood that he had not 
 wasted his time. 
 
 A van had been engaged, and, whilst the heavy bales were being 
 carted, Monsieur Chose was settling about the payment of them. As 
 usual, he gave a bill at two months for half the amount, and drew a 
 cheque for the remaining 350Z. At ten minutes to five o'clock, the 
 van with the goods drove off, and the agent took his leave. 
 
 It would seem that some doubts as to the solidity of the firm of 
 Jonkopings, Tandstickor, and Co. oppressed the mind of Mr. Crater 
 almost immediately after the agent had departed. At exactly four 
 minutes before the closing of the bank, Mr. Crater in person pre- 
 sented the draft over the banking-house counter. He was seized 
 with a weakness of the knees as the clerk returned the paper with the 
 answer of, " Not effects to that amount." Overcome with despair, 
 
242 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the unfortunate factor sought an interview with the bank-manager, 
 and, after relating the story of the swindle, at last, by his agonising 
 entreaties, wrung from the official a confession that the account of the 
 Swedish firm amounted to something over 1001. To save himself 
 from entire loss, Mr. Crater hit upon an expedient which might in 
 similar cases prove useful to gentlemen in the City. He took out his 
 cheque-book, and commenced paying in to the account of Monsieur 
 Chose drafts to such an amount that at last, on presenting the French- 
 man's paper, it was duly honoured. By this clever scheme did the 
 firm of Crater, McRoney, and Co. save 115/. out of their 700Z. 
 
 It is but fair to assume that the French gentleman returned to 
 Sweden, for he was never afterwards heard of in London. "When the 
 aifair became known through the medium of the police reports, Mr. 
 Macpipes was heard to say that he " allers sauspackted the fallow was 
 an airant sweendler, and that he would na hae trusted him to* cairy 
 sop to a pairet, for he'd hae cheated the puir baird by devoorin' it his 
 ainseP, the clarty vaigabond !" 
 
 CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 A HUNT AFTER PHILIP. 
 
 Although a great many years have passed since Katherine Merton 
 died, yet Mr. Simcox, senior, the friend and solicitor of Nathaniel 
 Crosier, Esquire, of Swanborough, is as well and hearty as when we 
 last left him at the prison making inquiries after this most unfortu- 
 nate lady. That ornament of his profession has grown grey and bald. 
 He mumbles slightly when he talks, and is deaf; but his brain, he 
 says, is as sound as ever, and many of his clients even now declare 
 that they would rather have old Simcox' s opinion than that of the first 
 barrister in the land. 
 
 The long-headed solicitor could not imagine what sudden fancy had 
 possessed his Swanborough client that he should take so great an 
 interest in a lad named Philip Merton. Once a week did a letter 
 come from the country banker — written in a most excited style — re- 
 questing that every possible search should be made after this boy, and 
 that no expense should be spared in tracing out his whereabouts. When 
 Mr. Simcox called in his clerk, of an afternoon, to take dow-n in the 
 attendance book the details of his day's work, there was usually some 
 such entry as the following to be made : " To attending Mr. Tobias 
 Sparkler, at his residence at Hampstead, when he, in harsh language, 
 informed us that the lad Philip Merton had quitted his employment. 
 On further pressing Mr. Sparkler for more minute particulars, both 
 his conversation and behaviour became violent and illegal. Cab hire, 
 there and back, 12s. Engaged three hours, 1Z. Is." Or, perhaps, the 
 entry would be, u To attending at the workhouse of St. Lazarus 
 "Without, and requesting to see one Mary Hazlewood, the nurse, 
 when we were informed that she was from home. Cab hire, 15s. 
 Engaged four hours, 11. 6s. 8d." Or the old lawyer might dictate as 
 follows : " Attending at the police-office, when we saw the sergeant 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 243 
 
 on duty, and requested to know whether he could afford us any in- 
 formation as to what had become of Philip Merton. He expressed it 
 as his opinion that if we were patient and waited a year or two 
 longer, we should most possibly find him in Newgate. Engaged two 
 hours, 13s. 4d." 
 
 Ever since the day when Mr. Nathaniel Crosier had accompanied 
 his daughter Helen on her donkey-ride to Hampstead, he had 
 never ceased to think about the curious lad who had driven the ani- 
 .mals, and called himself Philip Merton. It was so strange that his 
 mother's name should have been Katherine. She, too, had called 
 herself Katherine Merton. It struck him, too, the boy had a face 
 which had a genteel formation and good features, such as became the 
 offspring of gentlefolk. He would speculate to himself whether, by 
 any possibility, this corduroyed urchin could have been his grandson. 
 Nathaniel Crosier was a proud and wealthy man, and not from love 
 for the boy, but out of respect to himself, he was shocked at the idea 
 that a child of his should remain one of the world's outcasts. In 
 justice we must debit this gentleman with his good as well as his 
 bad qualities, and mention that there still remained in his heart a 
 tenderness towards his deceased daughter — very probably because she 
 was dead. "We are too apt to weep for the corpse and neglect the 
 living. He would repeat to himself, " What a handsome girl she was 1" 
 and remember how often he had been praised as the father of so beau- 
 tiful a child. He would call to mind how Sir Theophilus Ermine had 
 praised her at the county ball, vowing she was the handsomest girl 
 in Hampshire. With a tightness of bosom he would remember how 
 young Lord Acres had danced with her the entire evening, and called 
 the next day on the pretence of inquiring after her health. * She 
 might have been ' My Lady,' " he would sigh, and then fall to cursing 
 that French scoundrel Vautrin. 
 
 It is true he never allowed any one to mention her name before 
 him, but he would constantly commune with himself about the lost 
 girl, and often when his family thought he was taking his after-dinner 
 nap, he was in reality, with closed eyes, calling to mind by-past 
 scenes and events that had happened when poor Katherine lived at 
 home. 
 
 On the morning when he read in the newspapers the report of the 
 forged cheque case, he was in agony till he reached the line that stated 
 the prisoner w r as acquitted. He trembled at the bare idea that any- 
 body bearing the name of Merton should be charged with a felony. 
 A dread, too, seized him, lest it should be suspected the culprit be- 
 longed to his family. " If I could only get him out of the country," 
 was the thought that crossed his mind ; and he once more sat down 
 and wrote to his lawyer. All that day he was very irritable. A man- 
 servant had notice to quit for not answering the bell the first time 
 it was rung, and Mr. Meekboy, his head cashier, received a severe 
 reprimand for having discounted at six per cent, some bills which any 
 other firm would have been glad to cash at five. 
 
 The last instructions given to Mr. Simcox were to pay a visit to 
 the prison in which Katherine Merton had died, and endeavour to 
 assure himself, by undeniable proof, whether she really had been his 
 
 b2 
 
244 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 daughter, and, if so, by what name the boy she left had been chris- 
 tened. This kind of work was not, strictly speaking, such as Mr. 
 Simcox, senior, was accustomed to, yet out of consideration to his 
 friend, and the business he sent him, he paid a visit to Miss Perri- 
 man, the matron of the gaol. That lady had grown much stouter, 
 and had for the last three years worn a false front, but her memory 
 was so vigorous, that no sooner did the lawyer mention Katherine 
 Merton, than every little incident connected with the imprisonment 
 of that unfortunate lady rose up in the matron's mind. " Ah ! I 
 remember the poor thing well," she said. " A most melancholy case ! 
 A broken-hearted creature, who had no sooner brought her child into 
 the world than she went out of it. "Wasn't she No. 43 ?" she added. 
 Then, hunting over one of the prison records, she continued, " Yes, I 
 thought so, No. 43 — here it is, No. 43. '"Well-behaved, but re- 
 fuses to eat her food.' Poor soul ! I always said she only got her- 
 self sent to prison that her child might not be born in the streets. A 
 lamentable case !" 
 
 As a lawyer, Mr. Simcox, when he was engaged on business, never 
 allowed his sympathies to interfere with his judgment ; so he answered 
 the matron with a dry cough, and then proceeded to ask whether the 
 unfortunate female prisoner had left any papers behind her by which 
 she might be identified. " I am acting, madam," he added, " for a 
 gentleman of great respectability, who, if he could be persuaded that 
 Katherine Merton really was connected with his family, would be 
 willing to use his influence on behalf of her wretched offspring." 
 
 "Are you one .of the gentlemen," asked Miss Perriman, "who, 
 many years ago, made inquiries at this prison about this unhappy lady, 
 shortly after her death ?" A formal affirmative bow was the answer. 
 "Then, sir," continued the lady, with great indignation, "you may 
 tell your respectable client that upon his soul will rest whatever evil 
 that deserted boy Philip may commit in this world. I have nursed 
 that infant in these arms, and you may tell your respectable gentle- 
 man that a sweeter babe never smiled. You see, sir, w r e gaolers had 
 more compassion for that unfortunate orphan than the relations God 
 had given it." 
 
 "With great dignity, Mr. Simcox replied that he was a lawyer, and 
 had nothing to do with morals or moralists — that he had come there 
 as a professional man, and not from any mad, philanthropic idea — that 
 his business that day was to inquire after papers, and not to criticise 
 his client's humanity. " And if you can produce any documents," he 
 added, " they may be of more benefit to this orphan boy — in whom 
 you take such an extraordinary interest — than any expression of com- 
 miseration you may think fit to favour me with." 
 
 There was a small bundle of papers, which had long been kept in 
 the prison office, and, after an interview with the governor of the gaol, 
 they were produced. The lawyer was informed that these papers had 
 been found stitched inside the lining of Katherine Merton's tattered 
 gown. The old envelope in which these writings had been treasured 
 had become rotten as mummy-cloth, and, on opening it, the pieces 
 separated as easily as the portions of a puzzle. Putting on his spectacles, 
 the solicitor examined each document minutely, as a jeweller does 
 diamonds, and with as keen an eye for flaws and impositions. He paid 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 245 
 
 no attention to the remarks with which Miss Perriman chose to ac- 
 company the production of each morsel of paper. 
 
 u Six duplicates," said that lady. " They always have duplicates 
 when they come here. First the pawn-shop, then the prison or the 
 workhouse." Looking at one of the card-board slips, she continued : 
 " ' White satin dress, with lace trimmings.' Poor soul ! Perhaps she 
 had danced in it when she lived with her respectable relations. It 
 might have been her wedding-dress, for all we know. Here's another. 
 1 Sable muff and cuffs.' Dear me ! evidently well off at one time — 
 sable ! * Three embroidered petticoats, gold earrings, and scent- 
 bottle.' "What a sad change from embroidery to prison clothes l" 
 As all these articles had been pledged in the name of Mary Smith, the 
 lawyer refused to admit them as evidence. One of these duplicates 
 was for a pair of boots, and another for a wedding-ring. The matron, 
 looking at the dates on the cards, remarked that the poor creature had 
 walked barefoot before she parted with the ring. 
 
 There were three or four letters, in all of which the signatures had 
 been heavily scratched out ; but in one of them the words " Emile 
 Vautrin" could — when the paper was held up towards the window — 
 be imperfectly traced. Shortly before she died, the prisoner had 
 asked for pen and paper, for the purpose, she said, of writing to her 
 relations. This letter she had never completed, but the fragments, 
 nevertheless, had been preserved. There was no direction to this 
 letter, and it was headed, " From my prison." It was as follows : — 
 11 1 thank my God that he will soon free me from this gaol, by taking 
 from me the life which for this long time has been a heavy affliction 
 and torment to me. By the weakness of my body, and the agony of 
 my soul, what I now say to you is true ; so pay attention to it as the 
 last request I shall ever have need to make. Whilst I am penning 
 these lines the pulse grows weaker and weaker, for death is on me. 
 
 There is one " By the indistinctness with which the last few words 
 
 were penned, it was evident that the prisoner's strength had at this 
 moment failed her. Most likely, too, that Miss Perriman's observa- 
 tion, that the unhappy woman was about to speak of her child, was 
 correct. The tone of this unfinished letter had, as Mr. Simcox re- 
 marked, more the air of a threat than a supplication ; but, as the 
 governor observed, that was exactly in accordance with the prisoner's 
 character. " She bore her sentence," he said, " with a proud resigna- 
 tion that would have convinced many people she had been unjustly 
 condemned. Even to our chaplain she, although her minutes were 
 numbered, refused to reveal her name and parentage." 
 
 The remarks of the lawyer were simply of a business character. " I 
 see nothing in all these papers," he murmured, to prove that this wo- 
 man was legally married, and that was my chief object in coming 
 here. For, of course, if this boy is illegitimate, he can have no claim 
 to my client, however ingeniously the pretended relationship may be 
 argued." 
 
 Just as this interview was breaking up, who should enter the room 
 but Mr. Nathan, of Lyon's Inn. He was looking remarkably well. 
 He was as buckish as ever, and although he had grown unfashionably 
 stout, still, by wearing a cravat of unusual brilliancy, and ordering hi3 
 waistcoat of the showiest velvet, he had managed to defy the ravages 
 
246 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 of time, and at ten paces off would have been taken for the nattiest 
 old sprig on town. No sooner did he see Mr. Simcox surrounded by 
 strangers, than, to support the dignity of the profession, he began to 
 cannonade the old gentleman with compliments. Perhaps he hoped 
 that the favour might be returned. 
 
 " I am glad to meet you, Mr. Simcox," he said, " as I always am 
 any gentleman of talent." Then, turning to the governor, he added, 
 " If Mr. Simcox had gone to the bar he would have been Lord Chan- 
 cellor by this time." 
 
 The old attorney felt himself bound to respond handsomely. " I 
 have the highest opinion of Mr. Nathan's talents," he said, " not only 
 for his knowledge of the law, but also for his uprightness, candour, 
 and honesty as a man." 
 
 "If I were asked to-morrow," cried Mr. Nathan, " what gentleman 
 of the profession I should point to as being its greatest ornament, I 
 should say, ' Go to the Temple, and ask for the senior partner of Sim- 
 cox and Nicholls.' I don't mind saying to his own face that to the 
 wisdom of a Solon he unites the charity of a Moore." 
 
 Nothing undaunted, Mr. Simcox replied, " Our firm has had many 
 dealings with Mr. Nathan, and I can only say I never met with a gen- 
 tleman more thoroughly impressed with a notion of justice, and more 
 opposed to the trickery of the law than my friend beside me." 
 
 Presently the two solicitors proceeded to business, the Israelite 
 stating that his client, who was the husband of Katherine Merton, 
 was most desirous of obtaining any papers which might assist in 
 proving that the boy Philip Merton was his true son. He prudently 
 refused to divulge .the name of his client unless there was anything 
 to be gained by the discoveiy. On hearing that Mr. Simcox had 
 possessed himself of the papers — the governor of the gaol had 
 handed them over to him — a discussion ensued, which ended in the 
 two lawyers abusing each other with the same vigour as they had 
 before overwhelmed each other with compliments. 
 
 " If, Mr. Nathan, you expect that your pettifogging, threatening 
 ways will have any influence over me, you are much mistaken ; I 
 know the law too well, sir." 
 
 " If you know it so well," retorted Mr. Nathan, " it is a pity you 
 don't make more use of it. I pity the client who falls into the hands 
 of Simcox, Son, and Nicholls, for your bill of costs is all the law he 
 will get for his money." 
 
 " When you are defending your Old Bailey thieves," retorted the 
 angry Mr. Simcox, " or attempting to save some returned convict 
 from some deserved punishment, this bullying might do, Mr. Na- 
 than. You had better reserve this blackguardism till your next case, 
 sir. It has no effect upon me." 
 
 " I. have only one thing more to say," continued Mr. Nathan, 
 " you know no more of law than you do of gentle manly conduct." 
 
 To this Mr. Simcox replied, " You are as unfit to judge in one case 
 as in the other, Mr. Nathan. Indeed, I cannot do better than term 
 you a pettifogger and a bully." After which, both gentlemen 
 seized their respective hats, and hurried off to their offices. 
 
 And now all Philip's chances of honourable progress in life were 
 to be balked by a lawyers' quarrel. That evening a letter was 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD, 247 
 
 posted off to Swanborough, in which the confidential adviser in- 
 formed his client that, although he had dived deep into this matter, 
 he could trace no relationship between the Katherine Merton of the 
 prison and the Nathaniel Crosier of the bank. The grandfather 
 was counselled to set his heart at peace, and dismiss his fears. And 
 such advice was but too thankfully received and acted on. But Mr. 
 Nathan took an opposite view of the case. Enraged by the conduct 
 of his professional brother, his advice was that not only was Philip 
 Merton his client's son, but that an attempt was being made to 
 take the child from its parent. And so the lawyer and the father 
 redoubled their efforts to trace and claim the boy. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 IN RE THE WINDING UP OF THE GRAND NATIONAL MARRIAGE INSURANCE AND 
 UNIVERSAL MATRIMONIAL BENEFIT COMPANY, CAPITAL 700,000?., WITH POWER TO 
 INCREASE TO 7,000,000?. A DEPOSIT OF 6d. PER SHARE TO BE PAID ON ALLOTMENT, 
 
 For two months the second column in the Times had been filled 
 with the announcement of the above company. The advertisement 
 had caused a great deal of excitement in the metropolis, not only 
 from the singularity of the title, but also from the humanity of its 
 objects and the greatness of the names with which it was associated. 
 It would seem that the originator of this scheme was a Monsieur 
 Coquardau, a gentleman — it was said — of a religious turn of mind, who 
 was fast earning for himself the reputation of being the greatest phi- 
 lanthropist of the day. He had made it — according to his own 
 account — his mission in life to alleviate the pecuniary sufferings of 
 the female portion of the great human family. He called all women 
 his sisters. He had travelled over the greater part of Europe, Asia, 
 and America, gathering necessary statistics before he considered him- 
 self in a position to launch this great scheme before the public. He 
 said it was the loving labour of his life. 
 
 The goodness of Monsieur Coquardau's character evinced itself even 
 in his personal appearance. There was a solemn, pastoral air in his suit 
 of black, relieved only by the exquisite whiteness of his neckcloth. 
 He was of a bilious temperament, and at times the black ring round 
 his eyes was of such depth of colour as to suggest the notion that he 
 had received injuries in a personal encounter. His hair was black, 
 and cut close to the head. 
 
 Such was the modesty of this good gentleman, that, even when he 
 had matured his plans to ripeness, he would not allow his name to be 
 made public as the originator of the scheme, contenting himself with 
 the promise of a grant of 20,000Z. to be presented to him, in con- 
 sideration of his services, out of the capital of the company. He made 
 a present of the post of secretary to the company to a Mr. Horatio 
 Eott, a highly deserving youth whose relatives had consented to 
 embark 500/. in the speculation. As a proof of Monsieur Coquar- 
 dau's influence, it need only be stated that the chairman of the com- 
 pany was his All Serene Highness Prince Gloumpi, a Knight of the 
 
248 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Neapolitan Order of Thunder and Blazes, of the Holy Poker, &c. &c. 
 Among the illustrious directors might be found the name of his 
 Royal Highness Prince d'lnfluenza, the extensive Italian landowner, 
 and proprietor of nearly all the Pontine territory. The celebrated 
 banker of Amsterdam, Herr Iceburger, also lent the powerful support 
 of his name, whilst Mr. Sydney Tickell, a Pellow of the Institute of 
 Actuaries, had joined the speculation, and Messrs. Okey, Pokey, and 
 Winkey, of the Temple, were appointed solicitors. 
 
 No sooner had the first and explanatory meeting of the directors 
 been held, than the moment it was advertised in the Times the shares 
 rose to a premium. The philanthropic Monsieur Coquardau briefly 
 detailed the objects of the company as follows : 
 
 " Out of the four-and-twenty millions of fellow Christians inha- 
 biting Great Britain and Ireland, upwards of sixteen millions are 
 females. Supposing, therefore, that every man in the country were to 
 take to himself a wife, there would still remain upwards of four 
 millions of poor women who could never hope to enter into the holy 
 state of wedlock. Now, in order that I may check myself in my cal- 
 culations," added Monsieur Coquardau, who was most nice and exact 
 in his assertions, " I will set off the widows by the widowers, and 
 allow fifty thousand for that most disgraceful of all crimes, wedlock 
 with two women, commonly known as bigamy. If this calculation be 
 admitted as fair, it follows that a grand total is left of three million 
 nine hundred and fifty thousand spinsters. 
 
 " But here" — and by the mournful expression of Monsieur Coquar- 
 dau's countenance it was evident that he was about to make a dis- 
 tressing revelation — " I must point out to you one most important 
 fact. Many females are born afflicted with bodily deformities of so 
 grievous a nature that even the most sanguine could not hope to see 
 them enter the holy state of marriage. Some are sent into this 
 world without arms, as in the heartrending case of the well-known 
 Miss Biffin. Others grow to an unnatural size, as instanced by the 
 celebrated Mrs. Armytage. History makes mention of females 
 having for some wise and hidden purpose been created with the 
 heads of animals. Need I refer to the pig- faced lady ? Others, 
 again, have, by an unnatural growth of their hair and moustache, lost 
 those attractions of the female countenance which have an effect 
 upon the heart of man. Many ladies either have no eyes at all, or 
 have only one eye, or having the two eyes are afflicted with a squint. 
 Some have little or no nose, or maybe an excess of that useful organ. 
 I am happy to say that as yet we have had no instance of a female 
 with two or more noses. Some have hump backs. It would be 
 foolish to express a hope that any of these unfortunate sisters should 
 ever know a husband's tenderness. Let us put down these afflicted 
 beings at a total of fifty thousand. Tou will find that this exactly 
 balances my criminal double marriages. Now," continued Monsieur 
 Coquardau, brightening up with philantropic excitement, " it must be 
 allowed that among the advantages accruing to the female from the 
 marriage state, we may rank the cessation of toil on the part of the wo- 
 man, and the obtaining a comfortable home. Then, how are those 
 four millions of unhappy spinsters to reap such advantages ? I will 
 tell you : by means of our Company. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 249 
 
 " We briDg down the payments to be made at our office to the 
 smallest figure, so as to suit the means of even the poorest maid- 
 servant in the realm — say, 10s. a year. "What is 2^d. a week? A 
 mournfully small sum ; yet multiply that 2-Jd. a week by the four 
 million women who have no chance of marrying, and what is the re- 
 sult ? Why, a grand revenue to this company of two million pounds 
 per annum." 
 
 "When the excitement produced by the prospect of this enormous 
 income had in some measure subsided, the good Monsieur Coquardau 
 once more raised his voice : " Now, this company proposes to allow to 
 every subscriber who attains the age of forty, and is unmarried, an 
 income of 200/. a year for the rest of her life. It may be objected 
 that this sum is too generous. It may be stated that the necessities 
 of women are few, and that they could live in comfort upon one 
 quarter of such an annuity ; but allow me to make one more state- 
 ment. In fixing the age at forty years, I have been influenced by 
 the opinion of one of the greatest actuaries living, Mr. Sydney Tickell, 
 who has set down that period of time as being the average period of 
 life permitted to unmarried females. So that you see that we should 
 have but few calls upon our funds, and indeed I do not think I should 
 be very wrong if I stated that ours would be a company for receiving 
 the immense sum of two millions of pounds annually and giving no- 
 thing at all in return for it. Under such circumstances, even the 
 most obstinate could not doubt the success of our undertaking." 
 
 So great was the success attending this announcement in the 
 Times, that the attorneys to the company thought themselves jus- 
 tified in advancing the money required for furnishing the offices. 
 Chairs, tables, and desks, polished up until the flies could scarcely 
 stand on them, soon decked the company's rooms, whilst wire blinds, 
 with a portrait of Hymen — in gold — flourishing his torch, adorned 
 every window. Prospectuses of the company printed on thin paper 
 were thrown down the areas of every square, place, and terrace in 
 London, and in a short time the rush of servant girls desirous of be- 
 coming subscribers was so great that the presence of Inspector Beak 
 and six men was requested to preserve order among the domestic 
 crowd, with many of whom the officers appeared to be intimate. 
 
 Why this company should so soon have broken up will ever be a 
 mystery. By some it was attributed to the over haste of the philan- 
 thropic Monsieur Coquardau, who being anxious to realise whilst the 
 shares were at a premium, swamped the market with five thousand 
 which had been presented to him as originator of the scheme, and 
 hastily departed for France, with a view, he said, of completing and 
 carrying out another of his charitable schemes. When the aid of the 
 Court of Bankruptcy was sought for in winding-up the affairs of this 
 company, it was discovered that the funds had entirely disappeared. 
 Indeed, the only thing that there was any possibility of winding-up 
 was the clock in the back office — one of French's — which would seem 
 to have stopped about the same time as the subscriptions. Although 
 the Court of Bankruptcy despatched one of its messengers to Italy to 
 make inquiries about His Eoyal Highness Prince d'Influenza, yet 
 no satifactory result was obtained, owing to the official being attacked 
 by a severe fever shortly after his arrival at the Pontine territory. 
 
THE EOAD TO ETJIN. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 ON THE TBAMP. 
 
 God help Philip Merton, and save him from the ruin to which he 
 is hastening ! 
 
 He has turned " tramp," and abandoned himself to the wickedness of 
 the world. He has deserted from honesty, and gone over to the enemy 
 — he has turned his back upon virtue, and shakes vice by the hand. 
 Henceforth he will be found arm In arm with the beggar, the 
 vagrant, or the criminal. By day he will plot rogueries, and execute 
 them by night. The brigands of England, the Bedouins of this 
 land, will sing his praises. As he steers his dangerous course, the 
 policeman's bull's-eye will be the only beacon whose warnings he 
 will notice. By adopting the creed of his lawless associates, he finds 
 excuses for every act he does, for he terms heartless outrage — bravery. 
 So cheaply does he reckon his honesty, that to win a penny by his 
 begging he will tell fifty lies, and even for a few broken victuals will 
 moan and whine for an hour. . 
 
 Let us look back upon this boy's history, and, in charity, see if we 
 can in any way extenuate his conduct. It is true that his life had a 
 rough beginning. Born in a prison, and reared in a workhouse, there 
 were few events in his youth that he could look back upon with even 
 satisfaction. Unless he took a pleasure, as some do, in calling to 
 mind the miseries of infancy, the memory of his first ten years of 
 life must have been full of sorrow. He was fed, not so much from 
 the charity as the policy of the nation. Those who paid for his food, 
 grumbled, as they gave the money, that poor's rates were so high, and 
 but for the fear of the law would have kept it in their pockets. He 
 was taught to read and write and instructed how to dig the ground, 
 but such lessons, although they prepare the mind, have no guiding 
 influence on the future life. In our prisons the same method of edu- 
 cation is pursued, and with no better success than in Philip's case. 
 It was his misfortune to be an orphan, and for this he was condemned 
 to ten years' imprisonment — for even his school-life he termed no 
 better fate. Compare the rules of his school with those hung up in a 
 prison cell, and there will be but little to choose between them. The 
 food was weighed to that nice turn of the balance which will keep 
 life in the body. The recreation of the playground was little better 
 than the exercise in the prison yard, and the toil in the field was the 
 substitute for labour on the tread-wheel. We do not intend to assert 
 that in these large workhouse schools any better plan should be 
 adopted than that which is pursued. The whole system is one of 
 prudence rather than benevolence. They are the quarantines for 
 checking the contagion of vice, and unless regulated by some whole- 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 251 
 
 sale method, their existence would be impossible. "We are only en- 
 deavouring to trace out the cause of Philip's ruin. 
 
 He ran away from his workhouse school, and commenced his life in 
 the London streets. Is there a man who has been sentenced to seven 
 years' imprisonment who does not long for liberty? Yet Philip 
 underwent a longer term than this before he took to flight. Year 
 after year went by, each day resembling in its monotonous routine 
 the preceding one, until at last Philip longed for a holiday, and 
 he took it by the only means in his power — that of running away. 
 Young gentlemen who have their week's vacation at Easter and 
 Michaelmas, and their month at Christmas and Midsummer, may 
 perhaps condemn the runaway. Yet it is recorded that many a 
 noble has in his youth quitted Eton or Harrow without permission. 
 Besides, we are charitable enough to hold that Philip's ruin was 
 owing not so much to this act, as to his desertion by those whose 
 duty it would have been to advise him upon it. 
 
 The banker at Swanborough had carriages and servants, and of 
 these he took the greatest care. He had a grandchild, and him he 
 flung on the world. Not a horse in his stables but cost him more 
 money yearly than it would to have saved his daughter's son. Which, 
 think you, was most to blame ? The' rich man, or the penniless 
 orphan ? 
 
 After parting with Mr. Mudgster and his family, Philip walked 
 away rapidly for a mile or two, scarcely noticing the distance, so oc- 
 cupied was he in planning the vengeance that was to ruin and utterly 
 destroy the nutman's future. At last his legs grew tired with his 
 rapid pace, and, by the principle of counter-irritation, the aching of 
 his knees drew away the pain at his heart. He sat down on a gate 
 to think over what he had better " be up to" now. He had five 
 pounds in his pocket, and plenty of time before him, and a desire 
 seized him to see his native land, and become better acquainted with 
 its beauties. If he had been possessed of a travelling-carriage this 
 longing would have been patriotic and praiseworthy. But as his for- 
 tune could be counted at a glance, we are very happy to entertain the 
 same opinion as our readers, and declare him to be reckless, and 
 given to idleness. 
 
 Eor some weeks Philip journeyed alone, sleeping at lodging-houses, 
 and revelling in his liberty. He formed no acquaintances, for he was 
 rather disgusted than otherwise with the coarse conversation and ill 
 manners of those he encountered. 
 
 He was not, however, destined to remain long alone. At Birming- 
 ham, at a house for travellers, whom should he meet but two of 
 his old schoolfellows ^^ilJy^Fpjjaiue and Ned Purchase . These lads 
 were also on the tramp, Ned travelling" as aTailor, trying for work 
 occasionally, but oftener making use of his society's card to obtain a 
 bed, breakfast, and pecuniary relief. The cripple had strangely 
 altered since his school days, for his mind had now become as de- 
 formed as his body, and he traded on his afflictions to beg alms as he 
 hobbled through the country. The other boy, Billy Fortune, had 
 grown to be a tall, powerful youth, whom many a recruiting sergeant 
 would have been glad to see enlist. His principal excuse for asking 
 
252 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 charity was, that he was a carpenter out of work. " I could as soon 
 draw a tooth as plane a board," he told Phil, " but, by G- — d, I make 
 more money at carpentering than many a chap who works twelve 
 hours a day at the trade." 
 
 It was resolved among these boys that they should " chum*' to- 
 gether, beg together, and share together. They swore friendship 
 over a pot of beer. A few taunts were made at Phil that he was a 
 little bit green at the business. But when the sixpenny ale began to 
 do its work, young Merton swore so lustily, and showed so good a 
 disposition to learn every kind of iniquity, that, in the end, his com- 
 panions were induced to forgive his innocence. 
 
 Oh ! these boys, these boys ! They are soft as copper wire, and 
 can be twisted into any shape. Give one of them the history of 
 " Robinson Crusoe," and he will wish that he, too, were cast upon a 
 desert island. Change the volume to " Captain Cook's Voyages," and 
 he will vow to be a sailor. Once more alter the book to "Jack 
 Sheppard," and a housebreaker becomes the hero of his dreams. 
 This same Philip, if gentle-voiced Bertha had been talking simple 
 moralities to him, would, with tears in his eyes, have promised to lead 
 a saint's life. But because two rogues were pouring their villanies 
 into his ear — that audience-chamber of the brain — he yielded himself 
 to their noisome breath like a feather in the wind. 
 
 They tell him adventures of how they were nearly " lagged by the 
 constables ;" of the girls they had associated with, and then, when 
 tired of them, " buried" them, as they termed the act of deserting 
 them ; they relate laughable incidents of stealing linen off hedges — 
 "snow-gathering" — and "turning a white hedge green," as they 
 phrase it. Then Philip, seeing how captivating roguery was, and 
 what laughter came of it, felt for the moment as if he regretted not 
 having shared in the perils. 
 
 The town of Stafford might, if it had chosen, have claimed the 
 honour of being Billy Fortune's birthplace. It was to this town that 
 he and Ned Purchase were tramping their way. They easily induced 
 Phil to choose that road, for it was a matter of indifference to him 
 which way he went. "I've been there three times already," said 
 Billy Fortune, " and know every iiouse where you can get ' scran' 
 and ' rigging,' or food and clothes as you call it. I know every d — d 
 ' trap' — that's a constable — in the place. And there's a first-rate 
 ' diddle cove' (publican) keeps a gin-shop there. If you're fond of 
 slush you may ' suck' it without any danger of being ' hocussed,' or if 
 you're hungry, you can be certain of not chewing ' bow-wow mutton' 
 (dogs' meat)." 
 
 It was a fine summer's afternoon with a hot sun, makiug the earth 
 steam like a dish of potatoes, when these boys drew near to Stafford. 
 They had been four days on the road, and now had only a few more 
 miles to tramp over. The country was so well known to Billy For- 
 tune, that as they went along he pointed out to them everything that 
 was worth seeing. AV hen they came to the turnpike gate — all black 
 and white like an Act of Parliament — Billy knew the keeper so inti- 
 mately that he preferred going round by some fields to being seen by 
 
^ x 
 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 253 
 
 that person. They had had a quarrel about some gingerbread, which 
 Fortune had purloined from a stall the man's wife kept. The apple- 
 trees in this locality growing very kindly in the soil, they thought 
 it a very good opportunity for tasting the fruit, and so much did they 
 approve of it, that they even filled their pockets before leaving the 
 orchard. They passed a turnip-field in which was a flock of sodden- 
 looking sheep with ragged, matted wool, as if their hair wanted 
 combing. The animals turned their black faces round, and stared at 
 the three boys who were climbing the hedge, for Ned Purchase had 
 suggested that, though the " bleaters had eaten down their swedes 
 uncommon clean, yet a turnip often came in handy for supper." They 
 could see Colwick village in the distance — a patch of new cottages and 
 houses with slate roofs, and a w r hite church standing up in the midst 
 of them. The church was being repaired, and having its windows 
 out, looked blind. 
 
 Tor the next half mile they did not enjoy their walk much, owing 
 to the roads and meadows being flooded. The river rushed along as 
 if it would tear away the bridge they had to cross over ; the trees 
 were standing in the wet half way up their boughs, and only the top 
 rails of hurdles could be seen above the water. As far as the eye 
 could reach — right down to the line of poplars at the foot of the hill 
 — the fields had big stains of water in them, almost as if covered with 
 plates of metal. Some swans, taking advantage of the flood, were 
 strolling over land they would never think of visiting in dry weather. 
 When Mr. Billy Fortune saw these birds, he exclaimed, " If I could 
 grab one of those * biddies/ I'd have him boiled." They passed by 
 the spot where Lord Southwark formerly kept his racers. It had 
 gone to ruin, and the court-yard was filled up with rotting and rotted 
 leaves. The thatch to the sheds had grown black, and looked as if 
 water could be squeezed out of it. Intent upon plunder, the boys 
 entered this yard, but there was nothing worth their taking. So when, 
 for mischiefs sake, they had pushed down a tottering wall and 
 wrenched a few loose planks from the rusty nails that held them, they 
 returned to the road, and continued their journey. 
 
 The estates on each side of the road were, according to Billy For- 
 tune, strictly preserved. " In winter," he said, " it's covered with 
 pheasants as thick as starlings." Suddenly the boy went all stiff like 
 a pointer. "There's two or three on 'em now," he cried, growing 
 excited. Despite his crutch, Ned Purchase whipped up a stone, and 
 saying, " Here goes for luck !" threw it in the direction Billy was 
 pointing. All that Phil could see were three brown dots, but they 
 did not move, and looked like leaves. "When the lads came to the 
 grand entrance to Lord Southwark' s park, and saw the richly- gilt 
 iron gates stretching across the broad gravelled drive, and the hand- 
 some lodges with the coronet over each window, and the coat-of-arms 
 in all its glory, Billy Fortune exclaimed in his admiration, " That's 
 your sort !" and then, having no respect for the aristocracy, wished 
 he had " that old bloak's tin." They crept up Hurts Hill, watching 
 in vain to see if they could discover any of the deer that abound 
 in the thickly wooded grounds on the other side of the oak paling. 
 Further on they halted at a farm-yard where there had been a sale 
 recently, for the auction bills of the farming stock were posted on 
 
254 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the big elm-trees around. This considerably annoyed Billy Fortune, 
 for he said it was one of his places for getting " scran," and he was 
 sorry to see it " coopered up." 
 
 There was a curious hollow in a field close by, known to the country 
 people as the " Devil's Punch-bowl." Billy Fortune took his friends to 
 see it, and told the story of a murder committed there. His Satanic 
 Majesty's cup they found to be full of dried leaves, as if they were the 
 dregs of his last draught. There being no chance of any halfpence 
 to be picked up in the road, they continued their route by the fields. 
 " It's a short cut to the Satnell Hills, and we can pad the hoof (walk) 
 easier on the turf," said Billy. 
 
 These hills seemed to Phil as if they would never end. The long, 
 round, bleak mounds rose up before and about him, bald as a Red 
 Indian's head, with just a bunch of fir-trees like feathers on the top of 
 the crown. At times he could almost imagine himself at the sea- 
 side, for the hill, as it slanted up, shut out the view, and gave him 
 the idea of a cliff, with the sea lying beyond. 
 
 To vary the monotony of the walk, they tried to purloin some hens 
 that were feeding in the road. There was a lodge close by, nearly 
 hidden in the thick shrubberies, but Billy was a bold lad, and, despite 
 the chances of detection, had nearly seized hold of a gallant cock who 
 stood hi3 ground, whilst his wives, with the wind blowing their tails 
 open like fans, were scrambling through the palings. An old woman 
 came out to see what the noise was about. But such rare talents 
 did the would-be thief possess, that he turned her presence into an 
 advantage, for he begged so hard for a trifle, and told such a 
 mournful story of his not having tasted food that day, that at last 
 she gave him a halfpenny. 
 
 "When they reached the milestone on which was engraved " III. to 
 Stafford," they rested awhile, and Master Fortune indulged his 
 friends with an anecdote. "Do you see all this land?" said he, 
 pointing to a large piece of undulating ground, dotted with big 
 trees that cast a dark patch of shade under their branches — 
 " well, the grandfather of this here Lord South wark got it for ' nix.' 
 He was the knowingest ' nob' that ever wagged the ' red rag' (tongue). 
 He begged this land of King George for to make a kitchen-garden, as 
 he said. The king didn't know there was so many thousand acres, 
 and give 'em. That was a good day's work, wasu't it ? He's turned 
 some of the land into farms, and very nice ones they make. Now, if 
 you or I was to do such a dodge as that, we should have the ' body- 
 snatchers' (police-officers) after us, and get shoved in the blockhouse 
 (gaol)." All criticism upon his lordship's actions was, however, 
 stopped by the approach of a farmer on horseback, Ned Purchase 
 suggesting that they might as well try and " kick him" for a few 
 coppers. So when the yeoman drew near, the three boys, with their 
 caps off, stood in the road, and under plea of asking for charity, im- 
 peded his progress, unless he had chosen to ride oyer the young 
 rogues. 
 
 " Please, give a poor fellow a halfpenny, your honour. "We've been 
 walking all day, and had nothing but cold water." This was Billy 
 Fortune's palaver. 
 
 " Help a poor cripple, your honour. I'm a tailor by trade, and 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 255 
 
 here's my card, sir ; I wasn't brought up to beg, I assure you." And 
 Ned Purchase put on a broken-hearted look, and produced his 
 society's card. 
 
 " And haven't you got anything to say ?" asked the farmer, smiling 
 good-naturedly at Phil. 
 
 Our boy was not yet thoroughly accustomed to begging. He had 
 a feeling of degradation whenever, in imitation of his companions, he 
 asked for charity. 
 
 " Well, sir," he said, " I haven't a penny in the world, but I'd 
 sooner work for one than take it for nothing." He half meant what 
 he said, though, if the trial had been granted, perhaps he might have 
 changed his opinion. 
 
 The farmer looked at him, and then said, " You're either an honest 
 boy, or the worst scoundrel of the three," and gave him twopence. 
 Then, turning to Billy Fortune, he said, " Will you do a day's work 
 if I give it to you ? You look strong enough." 
 
 "Ay! and willing enough too, your honour," groaned the hypo- 
 crite. " And, Heaven knows, I should be grateful enough, if I could 
 earn a few coppers. It's not what I've been accustomed to. I've 
 had good parents, and now I knows what the loss of them is. I 
 never thought I should have come to this here." To look at him, 
 you would have thought he was going to burst with tears. 
 
 The farmer took from his pocket an envelope, on which was his 
 address, and giving it to Billy, told him to come on the morrow ; and 
 when the request was made to him for the advance of a penny to get 
 a " mossel" of bread, the honest victim gave sixpence to be shared 
 among the lot, and then cantered off. 
 
 "When he was out of hearing, Billy broke out with " We've 'bilked' 
 (swindled) my nabs out of his 'pig' (sixpence). I thought he was a 
 ' queer gill' (suspicious) at first, and smoked us, from what he pala- 
 vered to Phil when he gave him his ' deux- wins' (twopence)." Some- 
 how or other Phil did not join in his friends' laughter. What the 
 farmer had said had made an impression on his mind. They had 
 scarcely walked ten yards before Phil — though he seemed half 
 ashamed of saying it — proposed that they should take the gentleman 
 at his word, and do a few days' labour at his farm. The other two 
 lads stared with w r Onder, and then burst into a laugh so loud that it 
 frightened some crows slug-hunting in a field close by, and sent them 
 flying away to a quieter spot. 
 
 "If you don't like to go," said Phil, "give me his address and let 
 me have a try." 
 
 "You want his address — do you?" sneered Billy. "Well, as I 
 like to oblige a pal, here it is ;" and he at once tore the envelope into 
 a thousand pieces, and flung them in the air. This quarrel lasted 
 for nearly a mile, although Master Fortune made many attempts at 
 a reconciliation. In vain did he point to a hill covered with dry fern, 
 and say, " Plenty of hares and rabbits there, Phil." He could get 
 no answer. Nor did he succeed better when they passed a stubble- 
 field that looked grey as an old man's three-days' beard; for 
 though he remarked that it was the right sort of place for partridges, 
 Phil answered not. So they walked on in silence, drawing nearer and 
 nearer to the town. 
 
256 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Already they had reached the suburbs. All about the fields, and 
 in strange corners, and on the roadside, were the quaint white cot- 
 tages of labourers— small, two-roomed dwellings, with a heavy, natty- 
 looking thatch that came down over the windows like hair over the 
 eyes of a Methodist parson, and gave a frowning expression to the 
 little buildings. Now they reached the parish church, with the 
 ancient square tower that time and bad weather had robbed of its 
 carved work, wearing it away like the crest on old family plate, and 
 the ivy growing into the belfry windows, and half crowning the roof, 
 as though the building — like a fiddle — were preserved in a green bag. 
 Compared with this venerable edifice, the New Church further on 
 seemed upstart and trumpery. There were no yew-trees, big as 
 timber oaks, before its gothic porch, and its walls looked as drab as a 
 pork-pie, from the damp stucco, whilst in the churchyard the ever- 
 greens were scarcely large enough for a Christmas-tree. 
 
 Presently Billy Fortune and Ned Purchase prepared for work, for 
 they had arrived at a part of the road where there were many hand- 
 some mansions. They examined them one by one, undetermined 
 which to visit first. Some of them were huge square-looking houses, 
 proud buildings that have innumerable rooms and big dinner-bells, 
 and turn their ugly backs to the road that they may keep their 
 handsome faces for the lawn and park ground on the other side. Or 
 they were large bricken palaces, w r ith outbuildings, like a village, 
 and surrounded by a long wall that must have made the fortune of 
 some country bricklayer, and cost nobody knows how much a yard. 
 
 The boys did well at these mansions, and had so much broken vic- 
 tuals given to them that they were puzzled how to carry the load. 
 " "We can sell 'em to the ' mot' (landlady) of the l libb-ken' (lodging- 
 house) for a good deal, for it's first-rate ' scran.' There's that bit o' 
 bacon the cook gave us that's worth at least a shilling, if we knew 
 any * bloak' who was fond of it." 
 
 They did not make so good a harvest when they came to the half- 
 rustic, half-civic villas at the outskirts of the town. In vain did they 
 ring at the doors of these handsome family residences, with their 
 stucco-trimmed windows and porticos. Old ladies came to the 
 windows, and shook their fingers, or the servant-maids slammed the 
 doors in their faces, or the sash was thrown up, and a gentleman 
 threatened the vagrants with the beadle. 
 
 "Let's hook it," said Billy, at last, "and make for the 'padden- 
 ken' (lodging-house)." 
 
 As dusty as if they had been sprinkled with moist sugar, they 
 entered the town, and, hastily quitting the principal street, dived 
 into a labyrinth of back slums until they stopped before a dirty- 
 looking house, over the door of which was written " Accommoda- 
 tion for Travellers." 
 
 " This is Mother Lully's," said Billy, before they entered. " There's 
 a very good back kitchen, and the beds is decent. But, mind you, 
 she's a rum 'un, and as fond of ' a line of the old author' (brandy), 
 or a drop of the ' South Sea Mountain' (gin), as any ' doxy' (woman) 
 in Stafford." 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 257 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CAPTAIN CROSIER NARROWLY ESCAPES BEING AN HONEST MAN. 
 
 It was nearly three o'clock in the day — the sun had been shining 
 with singular brilliance since six a.m. — when Captain Merton Crosier 
 thought he had better make an effort to rise and dress himself. 
 Seedy and dilapidated from a glorious overnight (the tumblers were 
 filled for the last time at four), he wrapped his dressing-gown around 
 him, and shuffled up to the windows of his sitting-room to have a 
 peep into the street and see what kind of day it was. The curtains 
 had been closed, and as he pulled them aside the bright daylight made 
 him draw back, as if a lantern had been flashed before his eyes. 
 He muttered to himself something about his being a fool to keep such 
 late hours, and, hurrying back again to his bedroom, rang the bell for 
 breakfast. 
 
 A man in the habit of stopping out until five in the morning 
 should never have a looking-glass in his room. It was a painful 
 thing to see the captain advance timidly to his toiletr table and gaze 
 upon himself. Despite the rose-coloured curtains, he looked as 
 yellow as mustard. He leaned forward to see if the wrinkles about 
 the eyes and forehead had deepened, and then sighed sadly, as if he 
 thought they had. He was looking far from well that morning. 
 The texture of his skin did not please him, the grain of it being 
 coarse as that of an ostrich's egg, and its colour that of cold size. 
 Even when he had pushed his hair off his forehead, coughed, struck 
 his chest, and vigorously thrown his shoulders back, there was no- 
 thing prepossessing in his general appearance. In disgust he gave 
 up all attempts at personal embellishment, and returned to his bed. 
 As he lay there, he blessed his fate that he was not a married man ; 
 " for," thought he, " how disgusted my wife would be if she saw 
 me now." 
 
 He was very low-spirited — he had a slight headache — and fell into 
 a serious train of thought. As he tried to eat half a slice of dried 
 toast he accompanied each mouthful with a. self-inflicted lecture upon 
 his dissolute mode of life, turning the bread over in his mouth as if it 
 had been embittered by his repentance. Not that his reflections were 
 the most moral ones, nor was the punishment which, according to his 
 ideas, his behaviour entailed, of the most distressing character. 
 "Another day gone!" he thought, fixing his eyes in melancholy 
 resignation upon the dirty boots he had forgotten to put outside the 
 door overnight. " Another day gone ! This won't do ! How can I 
 expect to feel well or look well leading such a life ! It will be five 
 o'clock before I am ready to go out! What a fool, idiot, ass I am ! 
 On such a day, too, when Regent-street will be crowded ! Every 
 pretty face and every new bonnet in London will be there. It serves 
 
 s 
 
258 PAVED "WITH GOLD. 
 
 me right — it serves me right ! I must and will keep better hours !" 
 As if determined to lose no time in-reforming, he leaped from his bed, 
 and set about his toilet — the exquisite results of which, whilst they 
 roused the envy of Mincing-lane and the Stock Exchange, had never 
 failed to win the admiration of Piccadilly and the esteem of Hyde 
 Park. 
 
 "Whenever the air was free from dampness and gave promise that 
 a curl was likely to retain its position for a few hours, the captain 
 took especial pains with his hair. He was of the same opinion as the 
 Messrs. Eowland — that a head of luxuriant locks was the greatest 
 ornament which nature had vouchsafed to the votaries of fashion. 
 How often would the captain comb forward his side hair until it had 
 assumed its proper grace. He was never tired of rounding the 
 rebellious mesh on his fingers, or fixing it with cosmetique. With 
 the greatest cunning the bushy portions at the back were made to 
 conceal the slightly bald spots in the front. He would brush and 
 brush till his arms ached and his scalp smarted, but he never 
 regretted either the time or the torment provided the Brutus stood 
 up boldly as a cock's comb above his classic brow. When the hair 
 was neatly grained with the comb, when the partiug at the back was 
 as distinct as the centre bone of a fish, then he felt easy in his mind, 
 and smiled complacently as he twisted his head about before his 
 mirror. 
 
 As the toilet progressed, several philosophic reflections passed 
 through the captain's mind. As he saw his form gradually becoming 
 more and more attractive, he was led to ponder on the wonders of 
 art. Each time he dug his finger into his pomatum, and saw how it 
 turned the colour of his locks from a mild ginger to the rich tones of 
 a briskly-fried sole, he uttered a blessing on the great discoverer of 
 bear's-grease. After he had tied on his false collar, and seen how, by 
 concealing a portion of the fatigued face, it gave a brilliance to the 
 remaining features, he stood still to utter a benediction on the noble 
 master-mind that first imagined " stick-ups." He inwardly rejoiced 
 that he had been born in an age when all these great advances in 
 civilisation had been made, and asked himself " how the deuce the old 
 fellows" — meaning the dead and gone of the Tear One — "managed 
 after they had been out boozing." 
 
 His hat was on — gently cocked on one side, so as not to crush the 
 curls on the right temple. A. petit verre had given a sparkle to his 
 eyes, and a flush to his cheek. He was ready for Eegent-street and 
 conquest. But the servant entered and handed him a note. He 
 looked at the address, and recognised Ered Tattenham's peculiar 
 scrawl. " What the deuce can he want ?" he thought, as he broke 
 the seal. 
 
 Ered Tattenham wanted fifty pounds, and he also wanted to know 
 when that dinner at Bichmond was to come off. " You know the bet 
 we made together about that girl Bertha," ran the letter. " It is 
 more than seven months ago, now, and I will trouble you for a cheque. 
 I have spoken to the other fellows about the dinner, and we have 
 agreed, as you will have to pay for it, you may order what you like- 
 may I suggest Paradise-soup and ortolans ?" 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 259 
 
 After he had bitten his lips for a minute or two, and twisted the 
 letter about like a draper testing cloth, the captain whistled — a leetle 
 too flatly — the first two bars of " Still so gently o'er me stealing." 
 Then he took off his hat with a gesture as if he were about to dash it 
 on the ground, but, suddenly remembering it was a new one, placed 
 it carefully on the table. No word escaped him beyond " D — n it I" 
 Everybody can understand that it is not always convenient to give 
 a cheque for fifty pounds. It so chanced that the captain — it has 
 also happened to many other brave officers — was particularly hard 
 pushed for money. Even a demand for ten pounds would have dis- 
 tressed him. When his glover called for his little bill of five pounds 
 he had been told the captain was in the country. 
 
 There was one thing to be said in Merton's favour — he did not 
 abuse Bertha personally. It is true that, as he flung himself into his 
 arm-chair, he muttered a wicked, unfeeling curse against the whole 
 female sex, but did not particularise the little girl opposite. The 
 best proof he was dreadfully upset was that he gulped down two 
 more petits verves of brandy, jerking off the glasses as rapidly as if he 
 had been taking pills. Then, with the fire of alcohol to inspire him, 
 he threw himself on the sofa, and proceeded to make up his mind as 
 to what was the best thing to be done. 
 
 It was a painful sight to see this comparatively young man engaged 
 in the dreadful labour of "making up his mind." He could have 
 packed up twenty portmanteaus in less time than it took him to ar- 
 range his thoughts. Whether his mind was of the diminutive order, 
 and delicate as a bracelet-watch, or whether it was vast and wild as a 
 primitive forest, none but those who are acquainted with the secrets 
 of nature can reveal. He frowned like a Newton at his calculations, 
 and tossed about as uneasily as if reclining on a sack of potatoes, in- 
 stead of a sofa stuffed with the best hair. Once he passed his hand 
 through his locks, but the deranged curl aroused him to conscious- 
 ness, and he quickly replaced it. He bit his lips till they were as red 
 as if a whole hive of bees had newly stung them. But though the gilt 
 shepherdess clock struck the quarters one after another, still the 
 captain could not "make up his mind." 
 
 He had the greatest reverence for those debts which, however dis- 
 honourably they may have been contracted, are called debts of honour. 
 If ever a friend of his was forced to take an invigorating walk 
 through the Insolvent Court, the captain, however heavy the schedule 
 might have been, had never refused to shake the freed man's hand, 
 and pleasantly joke him upon the whitewashing performance. But 
 should his most intimate acquaintance neglect to settle after a horse- 
 race, he might as rationally expect to take tea with the Queen of 
 Oude as obtain a nod from the indignant Merton. He admired the 
 noble fellow who, to pay a gambling debt, did not hesitate to ruin his 
 entire family. He despised the mean-hearted dog who preferred 
 leaving his losses at blind hookey unsettled rather than reduce his 
 father to beggary, or see his wife and family turned into the streets. 
 Holding such opinions as these, the noble captain of course determined 
 on sending Ered Tattenham his fifty pounds, even if he had to take to 
 
 s2 
 
260 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the Katcliffe-highway, and garotte every sailor who was getting drunk 
 on his voyage-money. 
 
 Now his thoughts were turned to Bertha, the pretty little witch 
 who had brought upon him all this sorrow and tribulation. Fifty 
 pounds for a pair of large eyes. It was dear. Confound her rich 
 brown hair ! he might have bought a fine brown horse for the same 
 money. 
 
 Now, what should he do with her ? Should he give her up and let 
 her go her own way in life, or should he still pursue his plot against 
 her virtue ? And now the captain's mind was wavering to and fro 
 like a hair balance, the scale at one moment turning with an attempt 
 at morality, while, at the next instant, -as he thought over the girl's 
 charms, his desires would weigh down every other consideration. 
 
 "I'll let the girl go," he undecidedly muttered to himself. " She 
 will marry some journeyman carpenter, and have to get his one- 
 o'clock dinner ready. Fancy her pretty arms round the neck of a 
 fellow in a flannel jacket ! Imagine those beautiful hands stroking a 
 rough head full of sawdust ! That girl was born to sit in a mail 
 phaeton." Then, striking his thigh, he added, " Hang me if I can 
 give her up. Yet, suppose I should get tired of her, and, after a year 
 or two, wish her at the devil ? If she was to marry one of her own 
 class, most likely he would dote on her, as they do in the plays. I 
 wish I had never seen those eyes of hers ! It is like hearing music 
 to look at them ! Pretty little thing ! I know exactly the kind of 
 bonnet that would make her look like an angel. A poor man could 
 not give her such a bonnet. She would have to wear a common 
 straw thing, with her hair arranged like a workhouse girl's. I can't 
 bear the idea of Bertha down on her knees, scrubbing a miserable 
 back-room. Now, I should dress her out as showy as an album 
 binding. "Wouldn't the fellows be astonished when they saw her in 
 her silks, satins, and laces, as beautiful as the queen of a harem !" 
 
 For some time he amused himself by picturing the envy which 
 Bertha's beauty would arouse in the bosoms of his intimate friends. 
 The glory of her loveliness would be reflected upon him. They would 
 be forced to avow that he was a better judge of beauty than any of 
 them. " Besides," he thought, " she is a kind of girl there would be no 
 fear of being jealous of; for, if once she gave her heart, there would 
 be no fear of anybody else carrying her off." Then, again, his right 
 to Bertha struck him in a new light. " I'm positively entitled to 
 her," he said. " I've bought her. I look upon this fifty pounds to 
 Fred Tattenham as a kind of purchase-money. What a fool I should 
 be to let her go, after investing such a sum ! If I was to lay out 
 fifty pounds in a* house, I should be called a madman if I gave up the 
 place without getting my money back. Then why should I give up 
 such a palace as Bertha ?" 
 
 Whether it was that the captain could not make up his mind in 
 less than a day, or whether Fred Tattenham' s letter had disgusted 
 him with the world*, it is singular that for the first time in two years 
 he passed an evening at home. He sent down stairs to request that 
 Mrs. Bullunty would cook him two mutton chops. He drank a 
 bottle of sherry with them, and declared it was the filthiest dinner 
 he had ever eaten. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 261 
 
 Try as he would, he could not determine how he should act 
 towards Bertha. To seek inspiration, he many times went to the 
 window, in the hopes of catching sight of that fair damsel, and, 
 having a contradictory mind, his disappointment only made him love 
 her the more. When eleven o'clock struck — that being the hour at 
 which Miss Tomsey's household invariably retired to rest — he lighted 
 a cigar, and went on to the balcony, whence he watched the window 
 of the room where Bertha slept. He saw a light come into it, and 
 some one close the window, and then pull down the blind. The cap- 
 tain felt his breath shorten as he looked upon this female form. 
 " There she is, pretty little creature !" he said, addressing the illu- 
 mined casement. " You look more beautiful than ever ! I cannot 
 give you up !" Perhaps if he had been aware it was Mrs. Wortey, 
 the cook, and not the lovely Bertha, whom he was thus apostrophising, 
 he might have been induced to alter his opinion. But love is blind, 
 and cannot see through a brick wall. In his agitated condition, the 
 captain tried to soothe himself with hot brandy-and-water. His 
 faculties became quickened with the stimulant, and, before the third 
 glass was empty, he had "made up his mind" to one thing. 
 
 He vowed to himself that he would not go near any of his fellows, 
 or even walk down theHaymarket for a fortnight. " The fact is," he 
 remarked mentally, " I go so little into decent society that I am in 
 an unnatural and demoralised state. The only women I talk to are 
 those that disgust you before they have answered a dozen questions. 
 The consequence is, that the first decent girl I see I fall in love with. 
 Because she does not address me first, I consider her the most modest 
 of her sex, and because she lowers her eyes when I stare at her, I 
 persuade myself she is a paragon of innocence. But the truth is, I 
 am not a fit person to judge." 
 
 So the captain promised himself that he would go into society. He 
 had plenty of invitations — two indeed for the very next week. " You 
 may depend upon it," he thought, " I shall find plenty of girls much 
 prettier than Bertha, and, looking at them, shall forget all about the 
 stupid little beauty. Why, it is evident enough that girls who have 
 been well educated and brought up at home, and who are dressed in 
 the most expensive manner, must be more captivating than my little 
 witch. So in this way I will save myself without destroying her. And, 
 by Jove !" he added, "if I do meet with a girl who is prettier than 
 my wench, hang me if I don't marry her." 
 
 By this last exclamation, some people might be led to imagine that 
 a matrimonial alliance with Captain Merton Crosier was a most ex- 
 cellent and enviable position. But, knowing his character as well as 
 we do, we very much doubt whether his society for life would be 
 a fitting reward for superlative female excellence. The captain was 
 selfish beyond the usual average. He had no taste more noble than 
 sporting, was fond of change, and afflicted with a deranged liver, 
 which at times made him irritable. 
 
 A man's true value is never known until he is missed. The first 
 night that Crosier stopped away from his jolly companions they felt 
 little or no anxiety about the absentee. But when a second and a 
 third passed, and yet the captain withheld his society, then did those 
 wild boys Tom OxendoQ and Charley Sutton conclude that Merton'g 
 
262 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 life must be in danger, and, with an impulse that did honour to their 
 friendship, paid him a morning visit. Neither would Fred Tattenham 
 have stopped away, but for fear that it would look, as he remarked, 
 as if he had called for the fifty pounds. Many were the anxious in- 
 quiries which had been made down the Haymarket as to what had 
 become of the captain. Mr. Alf Cox, of the "Jolly Trainer," had 
 made tender inquiries after his " esteemed friend and noble patron," 
 and had even volunteered to prescribe for him " in case he was at- 
 tacked with these here brokelis as was about" (by which term he 
 meant bronchitis), asserting that nothing was better for brokelis than 
 a glass of the thick bottoms of a porter cask, took early on a hempty 
 "stomick." 
 
 The two friends were astounded, and not a little disgusted to dis- 
 cover that nothing ailed the captain. It was in vain he gave as his 
 excuse that he was tired and knocked up, and wanted to be quiet for 
 a while. They would not believe him, but, knowing him very inti- 
 mately, swore there was some woman at the bottom of it. Before 
 two bottles of bitter ale had been emptied, Crosier managed by his 
 over-care to betray his own secret. That morning Bertha was work- 
 ing by the open window, and the extreme care Merton took to 
 prevent either of his two friends having a peep at her, raised their 
 suspicions. On the excuse that the light was too strong, he drew 
 down the blinds. If Tom, whilst wandering about the room, ap- 
 proached too near the casements, the captain would, upon some pre- 
 text or another, call him back again, either to show him some unim- 
 portant letter, which he pulled from his pocket, or to ask him what 
 the exact time was by his w- atch. When Charley once rose to see if it 
 were raining, Crosier rushed so precipitately to the window that both 
 his visitors were startled by such unnatural politeness. 
 
 "What the deuce is the matter with you?" said Charley Sutton. 
 P You have turned thundering civil all of a sudden. Are you going 
 to turn counter-jumper ?" 
 
 u I'll swear there's a woman somewhere," said Tom Oxendon." 
 And, although Merton tried to prevent him, and requested him not 
 to make a fool of himself, that youth forced his way to the window 
 and drew up the blind. No sooner did he see Bertha than he burst 
 into a laugh, and shouted out, " You scoundrel, Crosier ! why, there's 
 that little thing you lost the fifty pounds about. I should have 
 thought you'd had enough of her by this time. You don't mean to 
 say you are still bothering your head about her ?" 
 
 If they had looked in his face, they would have noticed how angry 
 he was that his secret should be discovered, and the best answ r er that 
 could be made to the question was the anxious manner in which he 
 endeavoured to get them back again to their seats. They began to 
 banter him. 
 
 " Good Heavens !" said Sutton, " and you are really in love with 
 this servant maid ! Why, I call that wasting time." 
 
 " And money too," added Tom Oxendon, "for he won't get out of 
 it under sixty pounds." 
 
 " Don't you know," continued Charley Sutton, "that it is no more 
 trouble to make love to a duchess than to a serving wench ? The 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD, 263 
 
 same oaths and compliments have to be used, and, confound it! 
 there's more glory in killing a peacock than bagging a sparrow." 
 
 " How can you like maid-servants," thundered in Tom Oxendon, 
 whilst the captain tried to look careless, as if the conversation did 
 not pain him. " They are dirty creatures, and wear black petticoats. 
 My dear boy, we must save you from this tomfoolery. Just imagine, 
 now : these girls never wash their faces when they get up in the morn- 
 ing. They don't know what a toothbrush is, and they sift cinders. 
 How should you like to kiss a girl's hand after she's been sifting 
 cinders ? Good gracious !" 
 
 " If you're seriously determined on laying your heart on the kitchen- 
 dresser," sneered Charley Sutton, " what will you stand if I carry off 
 the missus and secure you the key of the area gate." 
 
 Stung to the quick by these rough criticisms on Bertha, the captain 
 nevertheless pretended to be amused. He assumed a nonchalant 
 manner, and said, " You've settled the matter very nicely between 
 you, but I'll let you have your own way. Suppose I do like the girl, 
 it's only a simplicity of taste, after all. It's about the same thing as 
 if I chose to dine on bread and cheese. You wouldn't object to 
 that ?" 
 
 " You may dine on acorns if you like," answered Sutton, " but you 
 won't convince me there is any pleasure in simplicity that talks of 
 'h'ambition, 'h' oysters, 'atred, 'ouses, and that sort of thing. Why, 
 the butcher's boy, or the baker's man would cut you out of the field 
 in no time." 
 
 The conversation was becoming rather angry. The captain's face 
 had grown red, and his mouth was stretched into a smile which was 
 anything but amiable. So Tom Oxendon put an end to the discus- 
 sion by saying, " Well, never mind. If Merton likes to hunt for his 
 loves in the dusthole, let him. What the deuce does it matter to us 
 if the adored of his bosom blackleads stoves and cleans knives ? It's 
 a queer taste, and he'll soon get tired of it." 
 
 When the two friends rose to depart, they endeavoured to entrap the 
 captain into a night on town, inviting him to supper, and promising 
 him unheard-of fun at the rooms of one of their acquaintance — a cer- 
 tain Bob Tail — who was to give a kind of evening party, to which the 
 guests were to come as soon as the Casino closed. But, with more 
 determination than he had ever before displayed, Merton refused to 
 join them, although he felt that to miss the enjoyment of Bob Tail's 
 reunion was a cruel privation. 
 
 Instead of spending a night on town, the captain passed the even- 
 ing at the sumptuous mansion of Gabael Golcondor, Esquire, the rich 
 diamond merchant. He did not enjoy himself much, for there was 
 only one young lady there whose personal attractions were of that 
 kind which appealed to his tenderer feelings. And as she, when he 
 asked her to dance, was engaged fifteen deep, he did not think it 
 worth while waiting till four in the morning to be the sixteenth. 
 The poor captain was what is called fast, and imagined, judging by 
 himself, that whenever a gentleman danced with a lady he made the 
 most violent love to her that his imagination could give words to. " By 
 the time she has had her fifteen partners," he thought to himself, 
 
264 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " she'll have had enough of flattery, and unless I call her a cat, or 
 something of that kind, I don't see a possibility of startling her 
 nerves." 
 
 The next party that Crosier went to, he danced with three young 
 ladies, all of whom he criticised minutely before he hazarded his 
 quadrille, waltz, or polka. The first, who was seventeen, and wore 
 lank curls, which bobbed up and down like whalebone snakes at 
 each step she took, discoursed with him on the merits of the different 
 London preachers — a subject upon which we are ashamed to say the 
 captain was profoundly ignorant. The second young lady, who had 
 bushy eyebrows, and a fine promise of a moustache, annoyed him by 
 making love to him instead of permitting him to attempt any ad- 
 vances towards her. She called him a wicked man, and a naughty 
 man, almost before he had opened his mouth. The third young lady, 
 he discovered, alas, too late ! had a violent cast in her eye, and, from 
 not knowing which one was looking at him, he made some deplorable 
 mistakes, such as saying to her when she was looking in his face, " I 
 see you are noticing that painting against the wall. Are you fond 
 of pictures ?" 
 
 The result of the captain's evening-party experience was that he 
 made up his mind that Bertha was the loveliest and most charming 
 girl he had ever met in the whole course of his life. As he lolled in 
 his chair after his return home, and smoked the cigar he had been 
 longing for all the evening, he could not refrain from bursting into a 
 torrent of praise on Miss Tomsey's companion. " I've seen some 
 two hundred of them," he said, " all got up like dolls, and in first-rate 
 order. There is not one fit to drink tea with her out of the same 
 pot. Her eyes are Argand lamps compared to their farthing rush- 
 lights, and, though I have looked into every mouth I have seen, 
 one of her teeth is worth a peck of theirs. It is no use ! I must have 
 Bertha, she's the prettiest girl I ever saw. If it ruins me, she shall 
 he mine." 
 
 JN~ow we would humbly submit that the captain was not a fit and 
 proper person to form a correct opinion upon the merits of young 
 ladies. In fixing upon a fair one, he did so as he would fix upon a 
 horse, looking only to beauty and spirit, and taking only the warranty 
 of the owner as to freedom from vice. He was so habituated to the 
 rough licence of the streets, so accustomed to the perfect liberty of 
 the night-house, that he felt himself cramped and gene'd under the 
 restrictions of respectable society. He lost his boldness and dash 
 when he had to converse with a young lady whose mamma was pre- 
 sent. To Bertha he could rattle out protestations and love speeches 
 by the hour. To his partners in the dance he could only stammer a 
 few common-place replies. If he did not enjoy himself he accused 
 them of being the cause, while the truth really was that when he was 
 bold it was only because he felt a contempt for the woman to whom he 
 was talking, and the moment respect was enforced from him he became 
 stagnant and insipid. His was a vitiated taste. The man who drinks 
 raw brandy has little relish for milk. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD.' 265 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 "ACCOMMODATION for travellers." 
 
 Being both strong of body and proud of spirit, Billy Fortune sent 
 the door of the "padding ken" flying back on its hinges with such 
 a bang, that, for the moment, Mrs. Lully, who was smoking her 
 pipe by the fireside, made sure the police were down upon her. 
 There were four shillings in Billy Fortune's pocket, and the arro- 
 gance of wealth was strong upon him. He made the door do foot- 
 man's work, and announce his gentlemanly entrance. 
 
 " What ! is that you, strapping Billy ?" cried Mrs. Lully, who had 
 started up from her chair in alarm. " Cuss your awkard limbs ! 
 how dare you frighten people ? When was you made Emperor of 
 China ? You've done me worse harm than the west wind, and 
 shook me like a bush. My fingers is really ready to drop oft* with 
 trembling. I made sure you was the Peelers, hang 'em." 
 
 The old woman spoke so angrily that Ned Purchase and Phil were 
 half afraid to enter. When they did so, they shut the door to again 
 very gently, as a set off to Billy's riot. Their confidence was a 
 little restored by seeing Master Fortune advance to the old woman 
 as dauntlessly as if she was a stuffed figure. " All right, mother!" 
 said he. " You're as spreeish an old lass as ever sucked at a bottle, 
 and I only did it that 1 might hear the squeak of your quail pipe, my 
 jolly hen. I've brought a couple of bene coves, with lots of the Queen's 
 pictures in their sacks. Come, it's no good being chuff! Let's have 
 a pot of that fourpenny English Burgundy of yours, and, whilst my 
 mates are drinking the * belch,' I want to talk business with you." 
 He pointed to the bag he carried, and she, thinking he had brought 
 with him stolen goods out of which a pound or two might be made, 
 became civil enough, and asked him into her back room. 
 
 Few men who " stalled" at Mrs. Lully's hotel dared to be as free 
 and easy with her as Master Billy. She was a woman of sixty, but 
 those who had felt the weight of her arm, declared " it hit remarkably 
 young for its age," and "tasted very strong of the hammer." On 
 her fifty-ninth birthday, one Nosey Sam, a pedler, who was fond of 
 full glasses, forgot his good breeding and behaved rudely, whereupon 
 the hostess, taking him up as easily as a cat does her kitten, carried 
 him to the door and flung him into the street as she would have cast 
 away a pan of ashes. 
 
 This woman stood straight and firm as the Farnese Hercules in 
 petticoats. Beneath her short skirts were seen a pair of thick-soled 
 highlows which would have pinched the toes of a railway navvy. Her 
 grey hair hung about her forehead and temples long as the forelock of 
 a horse. For fear she might, from her massive build, be mistaken for 
 a man, she had labelled herself " woman" by means of a deep-frilled 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 nightcap, over which she wore a plaid shawl arranged as a hood. 
 Her thick eyebrows hung down in weeping- willow fashion, and shaded 
 a pair of black optics that sparkled like stars through a hedge. The 
 first time Phil had occasion to speak to her, he, in his timidity, called 
 her " ma'am," which annoyed her, for she exclaimed, " Cuss you for 
 a lobb-mouth. Call me mother, you black spy." 
 
 When Mrs. Lully found that Billy — whom, on seeing the bag, she 
 had, with sudden affection, called her darling — had nothing but 
 " scran" to dispose of, she swore at him, and called him a beast and a 
 ken- cadger, and hoped he would end his life on the twister. She 
 told him to take his broken victuals to some other pig's-trough. 
 This indignation was only assumed, in order to obtain the food at a 
 cheaper rate ; and eventually — being short of provisions — she pur- 
 chased the lot for a shilling and a gratuitous supper, the big piece of 
 " sawney" (bacon) being thrown in for nothing. 
 . / The lame Ned and Phil much preferred remaining in the public 
 V room during Billy's interview. By industriously staring about them 
 they managed to console themselves pending their companion's 
 absence. The " travellers" who frequented the house were evidently 
 of simple taste, and cared little for ornament or furniture. There 
 were four whitewashed walls, which had become so dirty that it 
 seemed as if no washing of any kind would ever make them white 
 again, and at shoulder-height a dark panelling of grease had been 
 formed by the friction of the customers' backs. The safety and 
 privacy of her customers seemed to have been more attended to by the 
 landlady than their comfort. The window had been boarded over up 
 to the topmost panes, at least a foot higher than the tallest police- 
 man in England could ever hope to peep over ; but the tables and 
 forms that stretched along each side of the apartment were outrage- 
 ously narrow. Por those who came in cold or wet there was a 
 roaring fire, that would bake limbs or cloth into hot dryness in a very 
 few minutes, and the sand on the floor had the double advantage of 
 covering the nakedness of the boards and making them serve as a 
 large spittoon. 
 
 Beyond a few inscriptions scratched on the stained whitewash, 
 there was nothing to relieve the broad expanse of even wall. Por 
 fear the inmates should grow tired of gazing at the ceiling, and see- 
 ing nothing to amuse the eye, a gentleman, who signed himself 
 "Yorkshire Jack," had, with the flame of a candle, written these 
 words : " Just out of the 'blockhouse' (gaol), and never felt better." 
 "When Phil became more at home in this lodging-house, he got on 
 the forms to read the writings on the wall. The desks at Eton, or the 
 visitors' book at Shakspeare's house, are not more crowded with carved 
 names and gratuitous remarks than was this whitewash. Tramps 
 on their circuit seem to be of the same flesh and blood as gentlefolk 
 on their travels, and to be bitten with a similar passion for leaving 
 behind them a written trail of their progress. One of these inscrip- 
 tions was, " Joe the Bouncer at his old game again!" Another re- 
 lated that " Blinky Sam" stopped there, and " found the fleas r aa 
 hungry and saucy as ever." A third, who called himself "Mike 
 Tedder, the Eat," stated that he " hated the police worse than years 
 
PAVED "WITH GOLD, 267 
 
 ago, but was otherwise hearty." There were rude drawings of pro- 
 files and men hanging from gibbets ; indeed, no Government clerk's 
 pad could be more covered with caricatures. 
 
 In front of the fire sat a woman bending over it so closely, that 
 her tattered gown smelt of scorching. Her feet were bare, and she 
 held the soles as near the bars as if they had been toast, curl- 
 ing her toes about with the heat. She had caught an ague from 
 " skippering it," that is, sleeping under haystacks, and was trying, 
 she said, "to draw the cold out of her bones." The men seated 
 at the tables were talking openly either of their day's adventures, or 
 what they intended to do on the morrow. One, who hawked ' kite' and 
 4 sticky' (paper and wax) as an excuse for begging, was telling another, 
 who was a cadger, which were the best houses to go to. He seemed, 
 to judge from his talk, perfectly acquainted, not only with every 
 street, but with the dispositions of most of the inhabitants in the 
 town. " The brick house agin the bridge is bene if you can catch the 
 ' burerk' (mistress) at home, but the ' toff' is a mortal downy bird, and 
 ily to every think pretty night !" 
 
 " Have the scaldrum dodge been worked much ?" asked the cadger, 
 referring to the art of mutilating the body to make the limbs appear 
 as if they had been injured by fire. " I'm thinking of working the 
 * glim,' and going on the dreadful conflagrashun lurk." 
 
 One of the men present had been drinking heavily, and, being half 
 intoxicated, had lost all command over his tongue, and was com- 
 plaining he had been out all day on the " monkry," and had only 
 taken three "twelvers" and a " grunter." 
 
 " That won't keep me," he said. " It's scarcely wages for a ' knight 
 of the rainbow' (footman). What's come to people I don't know. 
 They don't seem to have no feelings now-a-days. I'm sure I looked 
 awful affecting, and shivered fit to come to bits. Ah ! it's a rum 
 world, and hearts is turned to paving-stones." 
 
 The three young tramps ate a hearty supper, composed of a stew 
 made out of the broken victuals they had brought with them, and 
 which, with the aid of onions, had been rendered highly odorous to 
 the nose, and stinging to the palate. As the night drew on, the room 
 gradually filled with the lodgers returning from their rascally work. 
 In they came, one after another, some with success written in their 
 knowing, brazen faces, others with a dull, dejected air, the best proof 
 that the day had been a bad one for halfpence. The man with the 
 full pocket entered in as if the house had been built for his sole 
 accommodation. He stalked, whistling, to the fire, and stood before it 
 as a screen. He laughed loudly, and called his pals by their nick- 
 names, pelting them with slang witticisms. He was fearlessly impu- 
 dent, for he knew that, if a quarrel ensued, he had the money in his 
 pocket to pay for the infallible ointment-— a glass of liquor — for a 
 cadger's bruised pride. But the unsuccessful tramp sneaked into the 
 room as a dog does into a butcher's shop. He opened the door only 
 just wide enough to admit his body, as if he would not have his entry 
 observed. He ordered his pint of twopenny ale in a whispering 
 voice. He sat trembling lest the successful man should single him 
 out as a butt, and, if his cringing form had the misfortune to attract 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 notice, lie had not the heart to resent the jest, but joined in the laugh 
 against himself, although inwardly vowing to have vengeance. 
 
 There were all kinds of men and women present, each representing 
 some special style of imposition. They were all boasting of the 
 dodges and tricks they had played to melt the hearts of the charitable. 
 Many a kind-hearted townsman, who had listened to the tales of dis- 
 tress, had gone to bed that night with a lighter heart, consoled by the 
 good aid he thought he had rendered. But here was the rogue who 
 had whined out his miseries now laughing until every tooth in his 
 head was visible. 
 
 K^ There were men so ignorant, that they could speak their thieves' 
 slang more easily than their native English, fellows whose signa- 
 ture was a cross, whose knowledge of the beauties of the world 
 began and ended with eating and drinking. But there were others 
 whose tongues were glib as a barrister's — men whose memory re- 
 tained a sufficient remnant of their schooling to enable them to drag 
 a Latin quotation into their sentences. One coarse-featured fellow, 
 who was nearly "bung-eyed" over his beer (as they call being 
 drunk), was a stealer of boxes from the backs of carriages, a purloiner 
 of pots from public-houses, or even of bread from bakers' baskets. 
 He could tell tales of trunks knowingly cut away from their lashings 
 to the hind springs, or how he had " pricked for panam in the wicker," 
 or "sneaked a cat and kitten" from the tap-room. He sat beside 
 a low-browed, meek- faced villain, who called himself a " mumbler," 
 and passed off as a broken-down tradesman, ruined by his faith 
 in a friend. In the furthest corner of the room was a thin, active 
 lad of fourteen, who sat smoking so short a pipe that the bowl of 
 it seemed close to his nose. He had a face pale and tired-looking, 
 as if he had just risen from a fever, but his disease was only hard 
 living — a bed one night, and a hedge for the remainder of the week ; 
 meat and beer at one dinner, and turnips for the next. He was 
 ready for anything, either to sing ballads in the "paviors' work- 
 shop" (streets), or to " sneak down an area" in the hopes of pur- 
 loining a silver " pap feeder" (spoon), or even a teapot, if it was at 
 hand. The man in decent black clothing, seated near the fire, and 
 laughing and talking as if he was the oracle of the room, would have 
 nothing to say to such low-class thieves as these. He never 
 "chummed with ken cadgers." He was a " high-flier," a genteel 
 beggar. When he worked, it was in jewellers' shops, whipping up 
 gold rings and chains as soon as the tradesman's back was turned. Or 
 he might fraudulenty collect subscriptions for charitable institutions. 
 But as for a vulgar " lurk," that would bring in a few halfpence, he 
 was above such dirty practices. The man he was talking to had 
 studied medicine, but, after being ten years a student, and four times 
 unable to pass his examination, he had gradually sunk lower and 
 lower, until now he had become a tramping swindler, earning his 
 living by passing himself off as a sea captain ruined by shipwreck : and 
 excellently he seemed to live on the deception. 
 
 l**^ There were men and women from every part of the United King- 
 dom. Irishmen, who pretended to have been old soldiers, and had papers 
 to prove the battles they had never fought, and medical certificates de- 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 269 
 
 scribing the wounds they had never received. There were Scotchmen, 
 who for the last five years had been weavers out of work, and were 
 begging for money to enable them to return to Glasgow, although 
 they had that day tramped in an opposite direction. Some of the* 
 English passed themselves off as poor needle-makers, whose health 
 had been destroyed at the business ; others had sore legs and arms to 
 exhibit, or for the last ten years had told, with tears in their eyes, 
 distressing tales of a child that died overnight of the small-pox, and 
 begged for a few shillings to purchase the coffin. There were women, 
 too, whose living depended upon an imaginary daughter, whom they 
 were taking to London to get cured of the king's evil; and others 
 whose supposed husbands had fallen off scaffolds, or been injured in 
 a railway accident. The writings, or "fakements," which testified to 
 these mournful narratives, were to be obtained for a few shillings at 
 any of the principal towns, so that when one story grew stale, it could 
 easily be changed for another. The man who carried on this trade at 
 Stafford was well known by the frequenters of Mrs. Lully's house. 
 His false petitions were highly esteemed, and he enjoyed the reputa- 
 tion of being a first-rate fist at " screeving a fakement," though, 
 owing to his forged signatures having been too often detected, he was 
 declared to be " a duffer at coopering a monekur." 
 
 Tramps are not regular in the hours they keep. They measure 
 the length of the evening by the length of their purses. Plenty 
 of money means four in the morning, and an empty pocket, to be in 
 bed by nine. They paraphrase the French proverb, and hold that he 
 who sleeps — drinks. 
 
 About twelve o'clock Master Billy, who was commissariat-general 
 to his company, ordered a jug of what he termed "hot flannel" for 
 three — a mixture of gin, beer, and eggs — which he declared wrapped 
 round a fellow like wool, and made him sleep like opium. Then, their 
 money being spent, they retired to rest. 
 
 The dormitory was a large, bare-walled room, with ten beds in it, each 
 one intended to accommodate two, or, on a pressure, three sleepers. 
 In winter, when the windows were kept closed, some of the lodgers 
 complained in the morning of headaches, and asserted that thirty 
 persons in one room " was a leetle crowded." But in summer-time 
 nothing could be more delightful, the company being usually gay and 
 disposed to converse until daylight. 
 
 Before he went to sleep, Billy Fortune had some serious business 
 conversation with the gentleman in the next bed. He was sorry to 
 learn that there was just then little doing in Stafford. 
 
 " The town's been overworked," said the gentleman, " but I 
 wouldn't give it up in despair. You say you've got a lame chap can 
 play on the ' howling-stick ?' " (flute). 
 
 "That he can," answered Billy, "beautiful! Anybody would 
 give twopence to get rid of him. And I can make myself as hump- 
 backed as a prawn, if I like." 
 
 " Can the other cove do anything ?" was the inquiry. 
 
 " Well, he ain't an out-and-outer," answered Billy, contemptuously ; 
 " but he's a good-looking chap, and the servant-girls takes to him. 
 He helps to bring in the 'belly timber' " (food). 
 
270 EAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 The next day, the three vagrants, dressed as genteelly as they could 
 manage it, were parading the back streets, Ned with his stump 
 bandaged up, and limping as if each step caused him the greatest agony. 
 "Billy had crooked his back, till he was bent like a fish-hook, whilst 
 Phil, with his face washed, and his hair neatly combed, was appointed 
 to hand the cap round for pence. The "patter" Master Fortune 
 undertook to deliver, his voice being very penetrating and powerful. 
 The appeal, with this affecting opening, " Leddies and gentlemen, and 
 keyind Christian free-ends," he bawled out as they crept slowly along 
 in the centre of the road ; " we hare ashamed to appear thus before 
 you and to soliceet your charitee. We hare without free-ends or 
 the comman necessairees of lief, being crippels, and hunhable to pro- 
 cure hany keyind of hemployment." Each time he concluded this 
 oration, the three boys joined in a verse of a hymn, which they sang 
 with such vigor, that it soon brought the women and children to the 
 doors and windows. 
 
 But affairs did not prosper with them. They seldom took more 
 than five shillings in a day, and, owing to Mrs. Lully's objecting to 
 any of her lodgers living beyond their income, their enjoyments were 
 limited. Ale and " hot flannel" became scarce, decreasing from pots 
 to pints, and at last were highly prized when served up by the mugful. 
 
 Before leaving Stafford, Master Billy took advantage of an offer 
 made him by a recruiting sergeant who was staying at the "Gk>ose 
 and Bottle" public-house purposely to receive all smart young men 
 who fancied a military life. The brave Billy drank several pots of 
 beer with his martial friend, took the shilling, borrowed half-a-crown, 
 and then, relating his adventure to his pals, proved to them, in forcible 
 language, that it was necessary to fly from Stafford. He justified his 
 deceit upon the sergeant in these words : " I ain't going to fight their 
 quarrels for 'em. When these big wigs chooses to have a row, they 
 alwers tries to get us little wigs to do the fighting." 
 
 On leaving Stafford, it was determined by the lads to direct their 
 steps towards the south of England. " Confound the north," cried 
 Billy. " It's too cold for charity. I like the south, where it's hot. 
 They gives a penny in half the time." 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 GREAT CARE IS TAKEN OP THE HAZLEWOOD FAMILY. 
 
 M!iss Tomsey had come down to breakfast, feeling far from well, 
 and in a decided ill-humour. She had supped rather late the night 
 before on a crab salad. The consequence of this fish repast was an 
 unpleasant dream, in which she imagined there was a Frenchman 
 under the bed. " I never was so terrified in my life," she told Mary 
 Anne when the latter brought the hot water up. " I imagined the 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 271 
 
 bearded villain was pushing knives through the mattress and trying 
 to stick me in the back." 
 
 Being in a bad temper, Miss Tomsey quarrelled, not only with her 
 bread-and-butter, but also with her new-laid egg. She gave it so 
 vigorous a tap that it broke as readily as a bubble. She found that 
 the dried toast was as thick and limp as a new undersole, and declared 
 the tea to be undrinkable. "When Mr. Boxer heard the parlour bell 
 ring as if a mad dog was biting at it, he knew there was some- 
 thing very wrong up-stairs. "Either she's got fits or upset the tea- 
 hum," he thought, ascending the kitchen stairs at a pace that made 
 his calves tremble as if they would drop off and roll down the stone 
 steps like cocoa-nuts. 
 
 " Boxer, where did you procure this egg ?" began the spinster ; 
 and, without giving the man more time than permitted him to exclaim, 
 " That hegg, mum !" she continued, f I have told you thousands and 
 thousands of times that I would not have any more eggs from the 
 potato and coal man. How dare you buy my eggs from a man whose 
 fowls roost in a coal-cellar ? I have seen those hens with my own 
 eyes lying in the gutter up to their necks in road scrapings. Then 
 how dare you bring me one of their eggs ?" 
 
 Once more Mr. Boxer, whose raised brows denoted his astonish- 
 ment, was permitted to exclaim, " The hegg, mum !" when his 
 mistress declared she would not be answered, and ordered him to 
 keep a civil tongue in his head. Then, pointing at the teapot with 
 tragic stiffness, she added, " And remove that ! It would disgrace a 
 Greenwich tea-room." 
 
 Although hurt, Boxer still remained respectful, merely hinting, in 
 an injured tone, "Perhaps it hasn't drawed yet, mum." But so 
 thoroughly was the lady under the influence of her ill-humour that, 
 instead of listening to the suggestion, she became rude and vulgar, 
 calling out, "Drawed! what does the man mean? How dare you 
 talk of the best orange-flavoured Pekoe as if it were a blister?" 
 
 In this excited state of mind was Miss Tomsey when Bertha's 
 mother called and requested a few minutes' conversation on impor- 
 tant business. The notion of the workhouse nurse having important 
 business so tic&led the elderly maiden's fancy that she could not help 
 saying, with a sneer, " Bless me ! we shall have the London sparrows 
 talking of important business next I How these poor mice do try to 
 be elephants !" 
 
 All this was very unlike Miss Tomsey's usual manner of thinking, 
 and the blame of it must be laid, not to her, but to the crab supper, 
 which, according to the learned Buchan, when taken late, destroys 
 the system by deranging the juices of the blood. 
 
 The old nurse was received with a frigidity of manner which was 
 intended to show Miss Tomsey's disapproval of all airs and graces in 
 poor people. Although the aged maiden was astonished to find the 
 good woman dressed, not in her workhouse clothes, but in a gown of 
 shining black silk, and with a shawl that never cost less than a sove- 
 reign upon her back, yet the influence of crab being strong, she 
 would not permit herself to make any remarks that would betray her 
 wonder. 
 
272 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Being in high spirits, Mrs. Hazlewood did not require to be told 
 twice to say what she had come about. " I've taken the liberty to 
 call, ma'am," she began, "for, since I last saw you, I've had the good 
 fortune to meet with a kind friend, who, indeed, has been a friend to 
 me. It's a gentleman I'm speaking of, ma'am." — Judging from Miss 
 Tomsey's looks, she seemed to disapprove of such connexions. — 
 " Thanks to this kind friend, ma'am — and I hope I am and ever shall be 
 grateful — I am now in a comfortable house of my own, and furnished 
 fit for the first in the land. May Heaven bless him !" Miss Tomsey's 
 expression of countenance seemed to say that Heaven might bless 
 him if it chose, but she would have nothing to do with the matter. 
 " They tell me, ma'am," continued Mrs. Hazlewood, finding all 
 the talk was left to her, " that my drawing-room is a certain pound a 
 week, with attendance and boot-cleaning extra. I wish you could 
 see the rooms, ma'am, you'd be surprised. There's an easy-chair 
 as big as a gig, and so comfortable, it's worth while being tired only 
 to sit in it. Flock and feathers on every bed, and the carpets as 
 lovely as water-colour drawings. There's a three-pair front, with a 
 separate bell, and a turn-up chest of draws a member of Parliament 
 might sleep on." 
 
 " And might I inquire into the important business upon which you 
 wished to see me ?" asked Miss Tomsey, in her coldest manner. 
 
 If a snowball had been sent into Dame Hazlewood's face, it could 
 not have surprised her more than did this frigid question. In one 
 moment her smiling face was turned into a countenance overflowing 
 with indignation. The instant she had recovered her senses, she re- 
 plied, " I wish to ask you, ma'am, if it would be convenient to you 
 to spare Bertha to come and live with me, now my circumstances are 
 so much improved, and her assistance would be almost indispen- 
 sable." 
 
 So strong a hold had the demon crab on Miss Tomsey, that she 
 pretended to burst into a laugh, though it was as shrill and forced a 
 twitter as ever was uttered. " My good soul ! you may have her 
 altogether," she said, " for lately — I don't know what has come to 
 the girl — she's not of the least use to me." 
 
 The mother looked daggers, but answered mildly, " Thank you, 
 ma'am! I'm sure you're very obliging." 
 
 Determined not to be beaten, Miss Tomsey replied, '• Not at all, 
 Mrs. Hazlewood, I have to thank you for ridding me of her. You 
 can go." 
 
 The indignant old nurse got up from her seat so suddenly, that 
 her silk sounded like the whirr of a partridge rising. She had al- 
 ready grasped the handle of the door, and was about to leave Miss 
 Tomsey for ever, when that maiden remembered suddenly she had 
 forgotten to ask who the good friend was who had taken such a 
 sudden interest in Bertha's mother. So she called out to the dame, 
 saying, 
 
 " Stop a minute ! What's the name of this kind friend who seems 
 to give away houses of furniture as if they were so much firewood ?" 
 ; In a tone of voice as sharp as if it had been ground on purpose to 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 273 
 
 cut Miss Toinsey's ear off, Mrs. Hazlewood answered that "she 
 was not at liberty to give any information on that subject." 
 
 The idea of being bearded in her own house by a pauper was more 
 than Miss Tomsey's self-respect could put up with. Planting her- 
 self firmly upon her pride, she said, "That will do," and gracefully 
 motioned to the door. 
 
 At heart, Miss Tomsey was as good a woman as ever had her ears 
 pierced, and, about one o'clock in the day, when her indignation had 
 somewhat abated, she, little thinking Mrs. Hazlewood had taken 
 in earnest the conversation which had been held about Bertha, rang 
 the bell, and requested that the latter young lady should be sent to 
 her. She fell back in her chair when Mr. Boxer replied that both 
 mother and daughter had left the house some two hours. Now, 
 Miss Tomsey had a real affection for her pretty companion, and 
 was greatly hurt that, after the kindness shown her, the girl could 
 depart with so little ceremony. Through force of habit, she made 
 use of the simile about having nursed a serpent in her bosom, 
 though, as Miss Tomsey laced very tightly, the cradle must have 
 been a very uncomfortable one. 
 
 By-and-by, she fell to thinking who this kind friend who had 
 so suddenly turned up as a guardian to the Hazlewood family could 
 possibly be. By degrees her curiosity grew so absorbing that she 
 even allowed the hour at which she had the Times to read to glide 
 by without even glancing at the paper. Had she known where the 
 Hazlewoods' new residence was, it is most likely she would have paid 
 them a visit. She had to content herself with a useless cross-exami- 
 nation of Mary Anne, in which she endeavoured to worm from that 
 young housemaid whether Bertha had ever spoken of any rich rela- 
 tive, or hinted there was any property coming to the family. 
 
 It was not till the next day that she was in any way enlightened 
 on this subject, and then she learned the truth from the lips of Bertha 
 herself, who, unable to endure the idea of parting from her former 
 mistress without even saying good-by, had returned to Harley-street 
 to beg for a shake of the hand. 
 
 " They told me," said Bertha, " that you were very angry, and 
 would not speak to me. And I thought it must be true, for I could 
 not understand why you turned me away so suddenly. You have 
 always been so kind to me. But I fancied I must have done some 
 dreadful thing or other that was past forgiveness. Now that I hear 
 you speak tome in your good, kind manner, I wish I had never left." 
 
 " I never turned you away at all, you silly child," answered the 
 spinster, sharply. She was forced to appear cross to prevent the 
 tears from coming into her eyes. "It was that foolish mother of 
 yours. How could she be such a silly creature ! — stupid enough to 
 fancy that I was in earnest !" 
 
 Yery numerous were the entreaties made on the one hand for Bertha 
 to return, and very timid were the refusals given on the other. 
 
 " I'll double your wages, Bertha," said the one. " You shall have 
 twenty pounds a year." 
 
 " Mother says she cannot do without me," said the other. " If I 
 am not with her she must give the house up." 
 
 T 
 
274 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " I shall be miserable without you," continued the lady. 
 
 " Mother says she will never part with me again," answered the 
 girl. 
 
 Finding all entreaties useless, Miss Tomsey desisted, but, burning 
 to discover the secret of the unknown friend, bluntly, and in as 
 unconcerned a manner as she could assume, inquired his name. 
 
 Bertha's face turned as red as a signal-lamp, as she answered " it 
 was Captain Merton Crosier." 
 
 If Miss Tomsey's hair could have stood straight up on her head, up 
 it would have flown, ringlets, back hair and all, so great was the 
 horror she felt when she heard that name. Nothing but the force of 
 strong-toothed combs held down her locks. She experienced a strange 
 sensation pass over her scalp, and gradually descend with icy coldness 
 down her back. She could not simply repeat the words " Captain 
 Merton Crosier," but screamed them out, and threw them, as it were, 
 hissing and red hot at the terrified maid. 
 
 " Bertha !" she at last said, nervously flourishing her hands till 
 they worked as the claws of a beetle on its back, " Bertha ! either 
 your mother is a very bad woman, or the greatest fool that walks 
 the earth. I tell you this Captain Crosier is a worthless, low fellow. 
 I have made inquiries about him, and find he seldom returns home 
 before four in the morning. He is what they call a man on town, 
 child, and is trying to act a villain's part to you. You shall not go 
 back there, Bertha. I'll keep you under my own eye, and watch 
 over you. If necessary, I will, out of my own pocket, pay for a 
 servant for your mother ; but you shall not return to her." 
 
 As she said this, the good little lady thumped a book with such 
 force that a big rose in a vase in the centre of the table was instantly 
 jolted to pieces. 
 
 How could Bertha believe her mother's benefactor was a villain ? 
 "Was it the act of one to open a workhouse door, and restore 
 a broken-hearted pauper to the freedom of the working world ? 
 "When she heard her former mistress call the generous friend such 
 harsh names, she uttered almost unconsciously, " No! no !" Before 
 long, both these women were shedding tears, one weeping over the 
 victim that was to be, the other moved by gratitude for the interest 
 felt in her welfare. But prayers and entreaties were only met with 
 ; protestations and solemn promises, and in the end Bertha took her 
 leave to return to her new home. 
 
 \ Miss Tomsey was standing at the window that she might see to the 
 last the pretty girl who had so long been her companion, and whom 
 she believed she was never to behold again. As Bertha turned up her 
 pale face to the drawing-room window, the kind spinster shook with 
 agitation. 
 
 " Poor lost thing ! — poor lost thing !" was all she could say. 
 
 There was a regular shout of laughter when Crosier, for the first 
 time, made his reappearance at the club. He had acknowledged his 
 defeat by paying Fred Tattenham the fifty-pound bet. And now, 
 as he told them, he had come down purposely to arrange about 
 the dinner. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 275 
 
 They were too hard upon him. They roasted him too severely. 
 Lord Oaks said some deuced severe things about him, and Ered 
 Tattenham was never so funny before in all his life. 
 
 " "Well, and what do you intend to do with the girl now?" asked 
 Tom Oxendon. 
 
 The cunning captain had long since determined upon the course 
 of conduct he should pursue when he met his friends. He thought 
 it better to appear to them as if he was disgusted with Bertha, 
 and resolved to give her up. He rather dreaded being made the 
 target for all their jokes should he persist in declaring his attach- 
 ment to her. 
 
 " Do with the girl !" he said, laughing — " egad ! I've had enough 
 of her. If anybody likes to buy my share and interest, he shall have 
 it for a pound of cigars." 
 
 When they asked him to give a history of his love, he did so in a 
 very honourable manner, as far as regarded Bertha. He called her a 
 lump of ice, which would be invaluable to a confectioner, but was 
 perfectly useless to a fellow in a hurry. He rattled off some of the 
 impassioned declarations he had made, and appealed to his companions 
 " whether that was not the genuine stuff." He confessed, with a 
 hearty frankness, he had been sold, and gave them his word, as a 
 gentleman, that the next time he went after a girl he would not 
 interfere with the legitimate property of footmen and grooms. 
 
 When the dinner came off at Richmond, he was so determined to 
 impress upon his companions that he had completely done with Bertha, 
 that he kept continually talking of her during the entire entertain- 
 ment. He made several comparisons between the dishes served and 
 the peculiar beauties of the maiden, affirming that the truffles were the 
 colour of her eyes, and a rich brown sauce the exact tint of her hair. 
 During dessert, to such an extent did he carry his fanciful humour 
 that, imitating the ways of an auctioneer, he put up Bertha as a lot 
 to be bid for. 
 
 "A very beautiful and accomplished creature!" he cried, "and 
 exactly suited for a gentleman of fortune. What shall we say for 
 this little lot ? Will anybody bid ten pounds ? Her eyes are worth 
 the money. Remember ! she is under eighteen years of age, per- 
 fectly free from vice, has only an aged mother, and, I dare say, would 
 have no objection to travel." 
 
 To keep up the fun, Charley Sutton bid a shilling, and the lot was 
 knocked down to him. 
 
 " Now mind, Crosier," said the purchaser, in a serious voice, " she's 
 mine ; and if I catch you following her up, it will be a d — d dis- 
 honourable thing." 
 
 The solemn, business-like tone in which this was said made the 
 captain feel rather uncomfortable, and regret having carried the 
 joke so far. But, remembering the girl had changed her abode, 
 and was not likely to be traced, he picked up his courage again, and 
 blustered out, " They don't allow any followers where she is, and her 
 Sunday out is only once a month." 
 
 The house in which Mrs. Hazlewood had been installed by the 
 
 t2 
 
276 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 captain was situate in Camberwell. It had long been to let fur- 
 nished, and, when the offer was made to take it for a year certain, 
 paid in advance, there was no difficulty about handing over the keys. 
 
 " I don't mind risking another hundred pounds on the little witch," 
 argued the captain. " I must have my revenge upon her before I let 
 her go. Besides, I shall save the money before the year is out, for it 
 will keep me away from night work." 
 
 He had calculated his game very deeply. The street in which the 
 house stood was not a very excellent one for letting apartments, and 
 he clearly foresaw that, if the lodgers did not come without delay, the 
 Hazlewood exchequer would soon be down to the last farthing. 
 Then the women would have to borrow from him. By his lending 
 them money, they would fall into his power, and the deuce was in 
 it if he did not arrange matters in his own way. 
 
 So as to have the right of entering the house when he liked, he 
 told Mrs. Hazlewood he would take the parlours at her own price, 
 for at least a year. 
 
 " I shall very seldom be with you, madam," he said, in a mild 
 voice. "You will not be put to much trouble on my account ; only 
 I think it would assist you a little at beginning, and might be the 
 means of bringing you in a little ready money." 
 
 The poor old lady could have fallen down upon her knees and 
 worshipped him as a miracle of goodness. 
 
 The first Sunday that was passed in the new house, Crosier dined 
 with his protegees. He had in a playful manner asked the old nurse 
 to invite him to their table. She, of course, w T as delighted. She told 
 Bertha in the evening that she was the more pleased "because, 
 don't you see, dear, we shall have an opportunity of observing how 
 he behaves himself, and seeing whether there is any truth in those 
 reports against him." Silly woman ! As if she was any match for the 
 cunning captain. 
 
 He was afraid lest they might " stick him down" to a leg of pork 
 with onions, baked mutton and brown potatoes, or some other poor 
 man's delicacy. To guard against such a catastrophe, he ordered a 
 little bit of fish, a few birds, and some fruit to be sent in on the 
 Saturday night, " with his compliments." 
 
 " He must be made of money, and as generous as a prince," said 
 the mother. 
 
 " He has a good heart," added the daughter. 
 
 He was well aware that his success would, in a great measure, de- 
 pend upon his behaviour at this dinner. He knew he must do 
 everything in his power to gain the old mother's confidence. " It 
 was deuced hard work," he grumbled, "to be obliged to win the 
 mother first, before he could hope for the daughter ;" but his honour 
 was somewhat at stake, he thought, and he must not mind a little 
 trouble. It would be such a rich thing to deceive those fellows, 
 and show them that, whilst they imagined he had given up all notion 
 of Bertha, he was actually working out a deeply-laid scheme. 
 
 If ever a man did reap golden opinions, Crosier certainly was that 
 lucky harvest man. For on the Sunday in question his behaviour 
 and conversation were so strict and guarded that even the clergyman 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 277 
 
 could not have acquitted himself with greater propriety. He ad 
 dressed very few of his remarks to Bertha, but occupied himself prin- 
 cipally with the mother. " It won't do to make love to the little 
 witch before the old one,'* he thought. " That would cause her to run 
 cunning and spoil the match." So he was very attentive to Bertha, 
 and very chatty with Mrs. Hazlewood. He opened the door, placed 
 a chair, fetched a book, and handed the salt with exquisite politeness 
 to the young girl, whilst to the old one he told amusing anecdotes 
 about his noble friends, asked for her opinion upon the affairs of the 
 nation, and inquired whether she had been to hear this or that 
 preacher. In fact, he treated the dame as though she had been one of 
 the fashionables of London instead of having recently quitted the 
 workhouse. The old woman felt her vanity bubble and swell at the 
 respect shown her by so grand a gentleman. The only wish of her 
 heart was that the master and matron of " St. Lazarus Without'* 
 could have seen her in her great glory. Though Bertha once or twice 
 thought he might address a few words to her, yet from the ardent 
 manner in which she, two or three times, surprised him gazing in her 
 face, she readily understood his admiration was none the less because 
 he was silent. 
 
 At dinner he insisted that Mrs. Hazlewood should take the head of 
 the table, " she being the mistress," as he said. He also, in a tone 
 full of religious earnestness, inquired of Miss Bertha if she would be 
 kind enough to ask a blessing before meat. On being requested to 
 take another glass of wine, he declined for the following reasons : 
 " I always limit myself, Mrs. Hazel wood, to two glasses, that quantity 
 being, in my opinion, perfectly sufficient for any man. Even then I 
 prefer taking it with water. I have so great a horror of drunkenness 
 that I am most watchful over myself in case I might be insensibly be- 
 trayed into that degrading vice." 
 
 He certainly had been betrayed into it the night before, for Fred 
 Tattenham had hoisted him into a cab, and, on waking in the morn- 
 ing, he discovered he had been sleeping with his hat on. 
 
 When this happy repast was finished, Mrs. Hazlewood, in a friendly 
 manner, inquired if he had enjoyed his dinner. 
 
 " That I have, indeed," answered the captain. " When I tell you, 
 madam, that I have dined at ministerial banquets, that I have fre- 
 quently been at the tables of the first in the land, that I have three 
 times been present at a Lord Mayor's feast, you will easily under- 
 stand my meaning when I tell you that, in spite of their delicious viands, 
 their delicious wines, their numberless servants, I never in all my life 
 so thoroughly enjoyed a repast as this one. I am a confirmed bachelor, 
 you know, Mrs. Hazlewood" — and with a pleasant smile he turned to 
 Bertha — " but such a happy insight into the joys of domestic bliss is 
 almost enough to upset my prejudices against matrimony. Indeed, 
 although I have enjoyed excessively the good things I have partaken 
 of at your table, yet that which has been most to my palate is the 
 perfect fireside bliss of this little meeting." 
 
 This was what Charley Sutton would have called " drawing it 
 with a little too much froth on." But the mother had no suspicion 
 of her lodger's hypocrisy, and Bertha felt as if she could listen for an 
 
27S PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 hour if he only would have continued talking. The evening passed 
 away very slowly indeed, and the captain felt himself bored to death 
 with the quietude and monotony. He smoked, and tried to read the 
 weekly paper, but, though his eyes were on the print, his thoughts 
 were in Harley-street, wondering whether anybody had called upon 
 him that day. More than once he thought to himself, " I cannot 
 stand that old woman's twaddle much longer. If she does not go 
 out of the room, and leave me with Bertha, I shall cut it." 
 
 At six o'clock he rose to take his departure, giving as his excuse 
 that he had promised an aunt of his to accompany her to chapel. Be- 
 fore leaving he promised them, as a consolation for the grief they 
 showed at parting with his company, that he would, in the course of 
 a week or two, come and stop a few days. " Only I am afraid I may 
 annoy you," he added, " for sometimes my friends will not let me leave 
 them, and that would be keeping you up to a very late hour." 
 
 When he had gone, Mrs. Hazlewood told Bertha she was de- 
 lighted with the captain's manner and ways. " I never saw so plea- 
 sant a young man, and such good company. To hear him talk, you 
 would fancy he was in the Church. Now our chaplain at St. Lazarus 
 was not half so fluent as he is, and, as for choice of words, there is no 
 comparison." 
 
 The reply Bertha made was, that she wondered any one could 
 be so wicked as to call Mr. Crosier a bad man, for that certainly both 
 his words and his deeds were irreproachable. 
 
 , ^Many persons proceeding quietly through the streets were sur- 
 prised at seeing a dashing-looking gentleman, who had been walking 
 at a great pace, stop suddenly, and, leaning against an area railing, 
 burst into a tremendous laugh. For fear he should explode before he 
 was beyond the reach of the Hazlewood ears, the captain " stepped 
 it" with a vigour that almost put his boots out of shape, and just as 
 he turned the corner his mirth grew restive and beyond his control. 
 He laughed as if a thousand fingers were tickling him — not merely 
 fit to split his sides, but his cheeks and waistcoat into the bargain. 
 " "What an enormous lark !" he thought to himself. " It's very jolly 
 for once, but I should not like to do it again. I must never eat 
 another Sunday dinner there, or I should let the cat out of the bag." 
 The only regret he had was that he could not rush oft* to his compa- 
 nions and spend a jolly evening in laughing over the wonderful ad- 
 venture. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 STONEHENGE. 
 
 Ned leaned heavily on his crutch, and grumbled loudly at the 
 speed of his companions, as they wound down a steep hill, from which 
 a bank of fine grass, soft and short as velvet, shelved on one side ; 
 while on the other hand palings stood primly up shoulder to shoulder 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 279 
 
 — like a crack regiment — sturdily protecting the sacred ^ plumage of 
 game within. Here and there Billy paused to examine with his stick 
 a hole in the fence, and speculate on the possibility of finding a 
 rabbit in a snare. But his vigilance was not rewarded even with a 
 mole's skin. 
 
 " Come along, Billy, no snailing," shouted Ned, who, poor tortoise 
 as he was, had, by his persevering hobbling, got ahead of his com- 
 panions. " Come on ! you'll find nothin' in them holes. Here's 
 Phil eatin' toadstools. That'll be a pretty go to-morrow ; and there 
 ain't ne'er a hatband among us." 
 
 Here Phil, spitting out the skin of a mushroom, joined his growl 
 to Ned's, in the hopes of urging on the stubborn Billy. It was like 
 coaxing a terrier out of a rat ditch this tearing away of Master For- 
 tune from these hare runs. 
 
 "Come along — here's the 'pike I" shouted Phil, "and they said 
 the town was close to it. Come away, Billy, or I'm jiggered if I 
 don't toe-and-heel it. "When three chaps are in the same swim, they 
 ought to be accommodating." 
 
 These forcible remonstrances had their due effect, and the three 
 young vagabonds, mending their pace, shuffled onwards. Having 
 said something saucy to the " old doll " who was minding the turn- 
 pike, and eyed them as they passed through, they turned to the 
 left, and saw the outskirts of Drudeshurst before them, although the 
 town was so small that to say it had outskirts seemed as absurd as to 
 say that a ballet dancer has petticoats. The cows were chewing the 
 cud, the tips of their horns and the warm colour of their hides lighted 
 by the setting sun. Near the banks of the river, that sparkled like a 
 smile along the meadows, a tired angler was winding up his tackle. 
 "Whilst the boys stopped to witness this operation, three or four 
 labourers, with spades and forks on their shoulders, passed and 
 turned to look at the strangers rather too curiously to please Billy, 
 who, with his head on one side, stared back again as impudently as 
 he could. 
 
 " They looked tired, poor chaps," said Phil. " They can hardly lift 
 their feet." 
 
 "IMore fools they," responded Billy. " Got blisters on their hands, 
 I'll warrant, the duffers ; and all for a bob a day. That's wus than 
 soldiers' wages. "Why, we shall get more in an hour if we've any 
 luck." 
 
 " I'll tell you what they've got, though, that we haven't," added 
 Phil. " They've got a home to go to, and a wife to say ' welcome P 
 and a good bed to rest on. I think, as far as we are concerned, 
 they've the best of it." 
 
 At times Phil was subject to these fits of melancholy. They at- 
 tacked him whenever he had overwalked himself. 
 
 But Doctor Billy Fortune was at hand to prescribe for the patient. 
 He administered stimulating jibes and taunts, and soon restored Phil 
 to what he considered a healthy condition of scoundrelism. 
 
 "Listen to the preacher," he said to Ned Purchase; "what a 
 rattling soul-driver he'd have made, wouldn't he. Give him a spout- 
 ing-box and black togs and he'd send such chaps as you and me, 
 
280 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Ned, singing psalms before a week was gone. Wasn't it moving 
 that idea of his about the wife and home ? He ought to have stuck 
 in a few squeakers climbing up dad's knee whilst he's gorging his 
 cat-lap and panam." 
 
 To show that he sided with Billy, the lame boy hopped into a 
 puddle and sent the water splashing over Phil, perhaps in the hopes 
 of putting out this spark of virtue. 
 
 " I hate a snivelling, water-headed chap," said Ned. " Just stow 
 it till we're working the town, and let the women have it for their 
 pence." 
 
 The town of Drudeshurst* had an amiable look. The parsonage- 
 house, cloaked with fat-leaved ivy ; the doctor's house, from the door 
 of which the brass knocker glistened, as if it would burn the fingers 
 of any one who raised it ; the round, ruddy, yellow-haired children 
 trotting about the road ; the candles flickering from the darkness of 
 the cottage parlours ; the merry songs, heavily charged with local r's, 
 that swelled from under the vermilion paws of the Red Lion — all 
 seemed amiable, and sinking happily to the coming night's rest. 
 Here some labourers were piling spades and rakes in a tool-house ; 
 there a cottager, with his shoulder planted against his door, wa3 
 sending grey wreaths of smoke into the air to get gilt edges from the 
 sunset ; and sometimes the shrill voice of a woman broke the silence, 
 as she called her little ones from a neighbour's doorstep to bed. 
 
 " This looks queer," said Ned, as he hobbled heavily along. "Not 
 much to be nabbed here. They'd offer you blessings and a farthing." 
 
 " Not a house good for a cold tater, that I can see," continued 
 Billy Fortune, sullenly. 
 
 " It's the prettiest place we've passed through," said Phil. 
 
 Presently a turn in the street (it was a compromise between a 
 street and a high road) brought them into a broad thoroughfare. 
 But the houses were low, and the sagacious eye of Billy Fortune saw 
 at a glance that there was little hope of picking up anything if they 
 whined and moaned at every door in the row. 
 
 " It's the beastliest crib I ever come in," growled Ned. " Confound 
 it ! ain't there any nobs about — no slap-up gentry, nor nothing of 
 that kind ? It's a queer look-out — a regular bog-trotters' nest ! I 
 wish we'd gone to Salisbury ; we should have done bene there." 
 
 " Let's have a try at that old gal," said Billy, pointing to an elderly 
 woman taking the air on her door-step. " She looks nervous and old, 
 and if we say something about giving to the poor being the short cut 
 to heaven, perhaps she'll tip something through funk." 
 
 Phil and Ned paused in the middle of the road, while Billy ad- 
 vanced towards a cottage upon which the whitewash appeared fresher 
 than that upon the habitations round about. Over the door was a 
 long plank, announcing to the passing antiquarian the existence of a 
 museum within. As he didn't understand what a museum meant, Billy 
 was in doubt whether it was the name of a public-house, or of some 
 charitable institution. If he had looked at the little window, he would 
 have observed several pamphlets exposed for sale, in which the 
 
 * This name was formerly written Druidshurst. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 281 
 
 ff History and wonders of Stonehenge" were fully related and described 
 by " Charles Lorts, of Drudeshurst." 
 
 " Poor carpenter out o' work, please marm," whined Billy Fortune, 
 "and would be very grateful for a trifle." 
 
 The person addressed shifted her position several times to try and 
 avoid the beggar ; but, as he still remained, she at length said, in a 
 shrill voice, " You carpenters are always out of work. There were two 
 last week. "Why don't you beg of carpenters that are in work, in- 
 stead of me? I'm not a carpenter, boy. I'm afraid you're idle; 
 and remember this, boy — it's the root of all evil." 
 
 " I know that too w r ell, mum," sighed Billy ; " and many's the time 
 my mother's used them very words. But it ain't idleness I'm suffer- 
 ing from, but hard times and hard masters, and the uncommon price 
 of wood. Deal's gone up frightful, mum." 
 
 The pals were watching Billy with all their eyes. 
 
 " He pitches it into her most uncommon powerful," observed Ned ; 
 " but she seems close and stubborn, and perfect fireproof." 
 
 It was to the sister of Mr. Charles Lorts that Billy Eortune was ap- 
 pealing. Though apparently not more than forty years of age, she 
 wore spectacles with an exemplary daring which proved that if her 
 eyes were weak her mind was strong. Her nose was what is termed 
 retrousse; that term, however, but ill expressed the curious upturning 
 of this singular feature. It curled as if it had become dog's-eared. It 
 seemed to have quarrelled with the mouth, and to be attempting a 
 separation for life, thereby greatly inconveniencing the nostrils, 
 which were tightened to whiteness, and uncomfortably twisted. Her 
 spectacles rode on this nose as securely as an Arab in his high- 
 pommelled saddle, and could as easily have tumbled off a hook as 
 slip from their place. Her eyes had a set expression of surprise, 
 aroused evidently by a chronic admiration of her nasal organ. 
 
 Yery often did Miss Lorts, in her permanent falsetto, assure Billy 
 that she had nothing to give him. He still remained. A sudden 
 idea crossed the lady's brain. She wouldn't part with a penny, be- 
 cause it was wrong to encourage beggars ; but she might, without 
 fear of any transgression, endeavour to improve his mind. She would 
 show him the museum for nothing. 
 
 " Come in, young man," she said, leading the way. " I'll see 
 what I can do for you." 
 
 " And I was going to give it up as a bad job," thought Bill. 
 
 He had only to cross the threshold to enter the museum. The 
 front parlour had been set aside for scientific purposes. "Wafered up 
 against the walls, and covering them as completely as if they had been 
 the eccentric pattern of the paper, were plans of Stonehenge, pictures 
 cut from illustrated papers, and coloured charts of scriptural revela- 
 tions. With an air of disgust Billy looked about him, first at the 
 walls, and then at the woman. An idea crossed his mind that she 
 was mad, and, being at heart a coward, he grew frightened and watched 
 anxiously for an opportunity to be off. But she was not mad ; she 
 was only a weak-minded, enthusiastic creature, with vanity enough for 
 six women of her size. In the village she was considered a prodigy of 
 learning. The rising generation of Drudeshurst were entrusted to her 
 
282 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 care, and every form in her infant schoolroom was crowded. As he stood 
 in the museum, Billy could hear the little voices repeating their lessons, 
 the twittering sounds forming a curious accompaniment to the solemn 
 tone in which Miss Lorts — who, when inspired, always became gruff — 
 began her lecture. She advanced to a table, on which a pile of some- 
 thing was covered by an oilcloth. "With her eyes fixed on Billy, she 
 said, " I am about, young man, to show you some pre- Adamite for- 
 mations." 
 
 He felt inclined to reply, " Please don't," for fear was upon him. 
 The slightest question on the part of Miss Lorts would have sent 
 him flying for safety into the road. 
 
 The oilcloth covered a heap of twisted, gnarled flint-stones. The 
 vagrant felt relieved when he saw them. The poor lady had, in her 
 admiration for Stonhenge, framed a theory that it was built up by no 
 less a person than Adam himself as an atonement for his great sin. 
 She had written a book on the subject, and perfectly proved the 
 matter. But, lest the vulgar should doubt her assertions, she had 
 collected on the plain, in the neighbourhood of the Druids' temple, 
 a vast number of curiously shaped flint-stones, which, from their bear- 
 ing some rude resemblance to the forms of birds, or the limbs of 
 animals, she now exhibited in her museum as " petrifactions of pre- 
 Adamite formations." 
 
 " I dare say, young man," she sternly asked Billy, "you wonder 
 what all these mean ?" 
 
 " "Well, marm," replied Billy, nervously, " I should call it about a 
 barrow load of stones." 
 
 " "What painful ignorance !' ' exclaimed the savante ; " they're fossils, 
 and the finest you ever saw." 
 
 "They're very good uns," said Billy, though he felt convinced he 
 had seen larger ones on the mounds for mending the roads. 
 
 " That," said Miss Lorts, pointing to a mis-shapen flint, " we 
 take to be the thigh-bone of a child — and that" (pointing to a round 
 stone) "is the head, as I and learned folk judge." 
 
 _He couldn't help laughing. With a broad grin he answered, 
 " If that's the head and thigh, I know where you may find the other 
 bits of the body. "Well, this is a start. If I'd ha' seen 'em in the 
 road, I should have pitched 'em over the hedge." 
 
 " The world is still in darkness !" exclaimed Miss Lorts. " Pitch 
 a fossil over a hedge !" 
 
 " If these was children," continued Billy ; " I'm glad the breed is 
 so werry much improved. I should say, mum, their parents must 
 have been a queer sort." 
 
 He saw Miss Lorts was harmless, and was growing saucy. 
 
 "Young man," replied the lady, impressively, "you are not pre- 
 pared for these revelations. You would no doubt deny that this is 
 a fossil bird, and this a human hand." She drew out a drawer, and 
 taking a clean pamphlet from it said, " Bead this, young man, and 
 when you thoroughly understand it, and are impressed with its truth, 
 come to me. You may go." 
 
 Billy took the book, turned it over, but kept his temper. It was 
 a copy of " Lorts on Stonehenge." 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 288 
 
 " Can't you give us a bit of bread to wrap in it ?" 
 
 " There's not a morsel in the house, young man, so don't ask. I've 
 my pupils to send home, so good night." 
 
 Billy saw there was nothing to be had. He glanced into the 
 schoolroom beyond the museum, where rows of pinafored children 
 were whispering and giggling ; then, as he turned back into the road, 
 he said, " "Well you've sold me most complete, old ' Bob-tail'. I 
 , axed you for bread, and you shove a lump of flint into my hand. Here, 
 take back this 'fakement.'" He flung " Lorts on Stonehenge" on 
 the floor. " If I'd known this was your little game, I'd have smashed 
 the cussed head of that there stone child of yourn. If you could add 
 your heart to the heap of flints, I should say the collecshun would be 
 fust rate." 
 
 He found his pals at the corner of the road examining the lock-up 
 house — it was not much larger than a London pork-pie, and they did 
 not seem afraid of it. They could tell from Billy's face that he had 
 brought nothing back with him. 
 
 " I never see such a woman," said Billy, as they stared inquiringly 
 at him. " Jawed me for half an hour, and then asked me to read a 
 cussed ' fakement.' " 
 
 They remained leaning against the lock-up house, discussing what 
 had best be done. They had but little money, and were hungry and 
 tired. They would have liked a bed and supper, if Drudeshurst had 
 owned a padding ken for travellers. But, at the "White Hart and the 
 Blue Pig, beds cost more than threepence a night, and every supper 
 served up came to a shilling, and something for the waiter. 
 
 It was unfortunate for them this discussion took so long, for 
 it happened that Miss Lorts, to be revenged on Billy for his im- 
 pertinence, had despatched one of her scholars to the constable, in- 
 forming him that three suspicious vagabonds were loitering about the 
 town. Delighted at an opportunity of exerting his authority, the 
 official clapped on his hat, and hurried towards our young rogues. 
 
 The moment Billy Fortune saw the constable, he knew, from his 
 angry expression and pompous walk, he was somebody in power. 
 The first suggestion w r as, that they should " slope," and give the 
 "trap" the slip. But Phil indignantly replied that they had done 
 nothing, and insisted upon standing his ground. They were threat- 
 ened with the lock-up house if they did not instantly leave the place. 
 It was in vain they pleaded they were tired and hungry, and 
 wanted a night's lodging. The man in power would not listen to 
 them, but told them to move on — a request they eventually complied 
 with, but not before the constable had been well soused with abuse. 
 Indeed, he that night told the company at the Blue Pig that, if he 
 had had anybody to help him, he would have nailed the varmints as 
 sure as eggs was eggs. 
 
 " Confound you!" Ned Purchase had said to him, "why it's me as 
 pays you ;" whilst Phil, in his indignation, had demanded to be taken 
 before a magistrate ; and Billy had threatened, not only to write to 
 the public journals, but also to complain to the Secretary of State — 
 threats which the official seemed to despise, as if he had been aware 
 that Master Fortune had forgotten all about his "pothooks and 
 hangers." 
 
284 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 They moved on slowly by the same road they had come, the cripple 
 complaining that the crutch was wearing his arm off, and that his 
 
 Eoor leg ached, whilst Phil growled lustily at Billy, murmuring that 
 e had led them out of their w r ay, and that now they must either 
 sleep with empty stomachs in the ditch, or trudge ten miles further 
 to the nearest town. 
 
 In so painful a predicament, Billy's wits became unusually quick- 
 ened. " I'll tell you what we'll do," he said. " There's no chance of 
 'nabbing any rust' " (taking any money), " so we must make up our 
 minds to sleep on the daisies. It's as hot as ten blankets. I know 
 a place not far from here where we shall be as jolly as birds in a 
 thatch." 
 
 " Where ?" asked both Ned and Phil, incredulously. 
 
 " Why, at that there Stonehenge, to be sure !" responded Billy, 
 triumphantly. " There's stones there as big as. houses, and corners 
 where the wind can't come. It's only a mile or so off!" 
 
 " Well," retorted Ned, sarcastically, " having found such a pertickler 
 soft bed, where's the * scran ?' " 
 
 " Leave that to me," was Billy's mysterious reply. " If there's a 
 goose or a ben within ten miles of us I'll wring his neck or be grabbed. 
 Are you fond of birds ?" 
 
 But Ned was not altogether satisfied with his pal's assurance, and, 
 as he turned with his companions down the road to Stonehenge, 
 muttered and growled. 
 
 " G-rowlin' again !" said Billy Fortune. " Come, out with it ? 
 What's your lay ? But no yelping." 
 
 " I wish you'd only one leg, you'd yelp then," was Ned's evasive 
 answer. 
 
 The moon winked as she rose above a distant slope, and the wind 
 sang sadly among the trees, or boomed like distant cannon over the 
 vast plain of Salisbury, to which these young urchins were advancing. 
 The shadows from the waving trees played along the pallid moonlit 
 road a very mystic game. The boys, although they would not con- 
 fess it, didn't half like the look-out before them, for the trees de- 
 creased in size, and appeared, in the distance, only at wide intervals. 
 More — they would take such unpleasant shapes ! Now an abrupt 
 scrap of hedge rose like a file of ghostly policemen, and now a wil- 
 low, its silver underleaf turned to the moon by the wind, bowed 
 to and fro — a white, nodding spectre. 
 
 Billy Fortune started, and caught Ned's arm. 
 
 " Don't be a fool — you're tugging me over. It's only a tree," re-» 
 plied the latter young gentleman, graciously. 
 
 ^ " It's only a tree, of course," jerked out Phil, too, as he regained 
 bis breath. 
 
 " So it is," said Ned. " And here, my hearties, to show you that 
 I ain't such a funky covej I leave you." 
 
 And Billy Fortune, twirling his stick knowingly, leaned against a 
 gate, from which a path that — to judge by its curves, must have been 
 trodden out by an incessant file of drunken men — led along the 
 jagged outskirts of a wood. 
 
 " But," asked Ned, " what game's up ? Keep your teeth. Didn't 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 285 
 
 I promise you supper? Now, sharp, and cut on to Stonehenge. 
 Pick up any old wood you see — scrape something like a fire together ; 
 I'll be with you in less than no time. But, no whistlin*. Keep them 
 bag-pipes o' your'n quiet, just for an interval." 
 
 Having given these directions, Billy Fortune stole along the zig- 
 zag path. His silent footsteps would not have scared a hare from 
 his way. 
 
 Ned and Phil, having mutually agreed that their pal was " a born 
 genius, only spoiled in the baking," turned from the gate behind 
 which the young desperado had disappeared, and went on their way. 
 The wind swept in gusts past them, and, as they left the shelter of 
 the last hedge behind them, forced them to bow their heads, and pull 
 their caps firmly down. 
 
 A broad, vast, and gloomy expanse, unrelieved by tree or bush, 
 lay in front, seeming mysterious in extent, as if a fog surrounded 
 them. Here and there were mounds standing up, as Phil said, " like 
 warts." The road dipped into a valley, then gently rose. Along the 
 dark edges of the plain, here and there, lights of solitary cottages 
 shone like glow-worms. The wind appeared to have the dark-green, 
 broken plain to itself, and to shriek over it and moan over it as though 
 it knew its ancient story, and was mourning for the fallen temple 
 of the Druids, and the forgotten dust of ancient Britons buried deep 
 under the tumuli? The moon, too, was provokingly playful. Now 
 she hid her face behind a floating vapour, light and white as 
 fretted silver ; now she played hide-and-seek with a cloud of ebony 
 blackness, which she fringed with white, making it look like a dead 
 baby's pall. Then, lavish of her silver, she spread it upon the tops of 
 the tumuli, dropped it magically about the edges of a milestone, 
 turned the flints of the broken roads into so many nuggets ; and 
 now she tipped with milky light a dark, confused mass, that stood 
 up, like Titans mourning, upon a rise on Phil's left. "Were the sigh- 
 ing and moaning of the wind the great voices of these mourners ? 
 
 Ned and Phil kept close together. 
 
 " I suppose that's Stonehenge, there ?" said Phil, softly, to his 
 cripple friend. " There — on the top of the hill. It don't look too 
 comfortable." 
 
 " One of Billy's games again. There's a airy bedstead for you, 
 with ghosts for blankets, and lizards, I know, for bedfellows." 
 
 Both the boys began to jeer and laugh at the distant ruins. As 
 children in their impudent health and thoughtlessness will mock at 
 helpless age, so these lads scoffed at the Druids' temple. They called 
 it a seedy graveyard ; one said he had seen better flagstones ; and 
 the other replied that the sooner the granite served to mend the 
 roads the better. 
 
 But the huge monument soon avenged itself, and punished its iu- 
 sulters. The wind that had torn up trees and shaken houses, had 
 vainly raged around these massive columns and rushed against their 
 broad sides, howling and shrieking as it tried to hurl them to the 
 ground ; the tempests of centuries had pelted them with rain, until 
 the granite was scarred and wrinkled with hard wear and tear, and 
 still one half the granite blocks remained firm and upright as ever, 
 
286 . PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 their companion pillars lying about them like slain giants. They 
 soon avenged themselves upon the two puny, vagrant boys. 
 
 The lads, to make a short cut to the ruins, had left the high road, 
 and were walking across the soft grass of the plain. Their foot- 
 steps fell soundless, as upon a cushion. The silence of the night 
 became oppressive. A tinkling, rustling sound filled the ear, a 
 sound that seemed to come from within themselves. They longed 
 to be able to shuffle their feet along the road, and hear the pebbles 
 crunch under their heels. "When they spoke to each other, they still 
 kept their eyes fixed upon the ruins before them, and gradually their 
 questions and answers became shorter and less frequent. With each 
 step the monster stones increased in size, rising from the ground as 
 if issuing from it to welcome the young tramps. At last they ap- 
 peared to hang above their heads, as though they would over- 
 whelm them. Both the boys felt afraid, and thought inwardly how 
 much better it would have been had they crept into some dry ditch 
 to pass the night, instead of sleeping beside these stone monsters, 
 with the black shadows stretching across their bodies. 
 
 "Well might they feel alarmed. Such wonders as the giant stones 
 the on Salisbury Plain should be visited only in the day time, when 
 sunshine drives from the mind all ghostly imaginings. Then how 
 different do the monster blocks appear! The pic-nic parties who 
 resort thither laugh and philosophise by turns as they gaze upon the 
 ruins, and, whilst the hampers are being unpacked, wonder how such 
 big stones could have been carried there. As each bottle is emptied, 
 the useless glass may, without an after-thought, be flung against 
 the massive pillars. Then, " Greaves, from Kent," and a thousand 
 others, may scratch their names on the walls of the ancient temple, 
 and spoil their penknives that they may leave behind an evidence of 
 their callousness ; or, " Hooper, of Manchester," and many more, 
 lying at full length upon the grass, cut out their names in the 
 smooth turf, and record their folly in the kindred dirt. But would 
 they, do you think, find courage for such silly profanation in the dead 
 of night ? With the huge blocks frowning down upon them through 
 the darkness, they would creep by reverently as through a church- 
 yard, nor dare attempt such violation, lest the spirits of the Druid 
 priests, who sacrificed in that very temple, should punish the insult. 
 
 The two tramps walked into the precincts of the ruins, and stood 
 in the centre, gazing around. The stones, arranged in circles, en- 
 closed a plot of ground in which the tent of a travelling circus 
 might have been erected with ease. At first sight the boys could 
 hardly comprehend the meaning of these stones, and the mystery 
 awed them. 
 
 Some of the blocks — gnarled and moss-covered — had fallen from 
 the perpendicular, and sunk into the earth, as a drunken man 
 falls into the snow. About and around these downcast monuments 
 grew a fringe of tall grass and nettles. Others still retained the posi- 
 tion in which, more than eighteen hundred years ago, they had been 
 placed by the hands of men, and stood lofty and massive as the 
 entrance to an Egyptian tomb. Each block had the marks and signs 
 of great age upon it. The edges were worn and rounded as thawing 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 287 
 
 ice, and in some places had fallen in like the sunken features of an 
 old man. 
 
 The Druids' temple is a wonderful chapter of the accidents of time. 
 On one side the upright rocks still carry, though apparently ready 
 to drop it at any minute, their enormous mass of horizontal 
 granite. One pair of pillars appear to be balancing a rock, as an 
 acrobat balances a pole. It is difficult to imagine how the rock 
 keeps its position. Phil and Ned looked on so nervously at this 
 conjuring of Time, that they determined to give the wonder a very 
 wide berth. 
 
 " Why Shouldn't the great stone fall that night as well as any 
 other ?" was Phil's philosophic suggestion. 
 
 " It must tumble down some time or other," added Ned. 
 
 Afterwards, at Salisbury, the boys were told that one hundred 
 years ago two of the pillars actually did fall, casting the horizontal 
 rock from their shoulders. The fall, too, made the noise of a park 
 of artillery, and shook the earth like an earthquake. "Without know- 
 ing it, the boys had seated themselves upon these identical fallen 
 columns, rested their feet upon the enormous burden that, after 
 untold centuries of patience, the columns had cast from them, and 
 then lain themselves deep down in the earth to rest and crumble. 
 There they were, with the grey lichen creeping over them, and wear- 
 ing holes upon their rugged surface, freckled with the hardy growth 
 which damp extracts from stone. Close to these fallen giants was 
 the leaning stone, a slanting coffin-shaped block, that seemed ready 
 to fall upon any human being, or any score of human beings, who 
 might be bold enough to venture under its shelter. Besting against 
 a post in front, it looked to the lads like the inclined brick of a 
 gigantic bird-trap, set to catch innocent youths such as themselves. 
 Other huge blocks lay here and there in wild confusion, some massive 
 as Roman baths, others seamed and wrinkled ; others again had deep 
 hollows into which a dog might have crept ; others lay buried in the 
 "earth, year after year sinking lower and lower into their grave. 
 
 The boys — these thoughtless, daring young tramps — felt uneasy 
 in this grand circus, every brick of which was "a ruin in itself." 
 The moon shone upon their pale, serious faces as they gazed from 
 the sanctum where sacrifice was once offered, and the deep voices of 
 the Druids were heard upon the awful confusion. The moon had been 
 provoking to Phil and Ned on the road, and the ghastly way in which 
 she now threw her white light, like linen sheets, upon the great stones, 
 or let it play wickedly through chinks, and in the depth of the awful 
 shadows, frightened them more than they cared to confess. 
 
 Phil was the first to cast away his fear, and he did it by opening 
 a game of leapfrog (in which poor Ned could not join him) over 
 the smaller stones, while his companion faintly laughed at him. And 
 then the young fellows determined to light their fire in a snug corner 
 close to the leaning stone, or the " coffin-lid," as Ned called it. They 
 were afraid Billy would be back before they had gathered even a few 
 sticks. So they began to grope about the grass — taking care not 
 to stray far from each other. They soon discovered they were not the 
 only tramps who had taken shelter under the stones of the old Druids' 
 
288 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 place of worship, for here and there the grass was burnt by the camp- 
 fires into a round black patch. Ned was the first to call out that he 
 had found something. " Here's a lot of paper ! It's greasy, and 
 smells of 'am. , And here's corks, and an empty bottle ! Shall I 
 bring 'em ?" " Grab all you can find," was Phil's prudent sugges- 
 tion. Presently he added, " They've been eating here to-day. Here's 
 a heap of straw, and an old basket." 
 
 By-and-by Ned gave alow whistle, and, on Phil creeping up to him, 
 pointed to the road, and asked '" What's that?" Phil looked out 
 beyond the stones. " Somebody with a light, coming along at a 
 rattling pace." 
 
 " It can't be after Billy ?" suggested Ned ; " but he's such a despe- 
 rate cove !" As he said this, he looked searchingly towards the horizon, 
 where the wood lay like a bushy black head upon the rotund bosom 
 of the earth. A light was travelling rapidly along the road towards 
 them, and the distant burr of wheels reached the lads' ears. After 
 a few minutes of • perfect silence and anxious watching,* Ned ex- 
 claimed, "It's only a confounded gig!" and turned his attention 
 once more to gathering fuel for the fire. 
 
 They were both so nervous and timid, that the least noise alarmed 
 them. A dog barked in the distance, and Ned called out, "Do you 
 hear that howling, Phil ?" 
 
 Phil had heard it, and was listening attentively. " It ain't Billy's 
 voice ?" he suggested. 
 
 After a moment, the lame boy dispelled all fears for Fortune's 
 safety by saying, " All right ! it's only a sheep-dog. I hear the sheep- 
 bell. But it did give a chap a twist, I can tell you!" And then, 
 remarking that it was "as cold as a lock-up," he proposed they 
 should instantly prepare their fire. 
 
 The boys returned to the leaning stone, and, crouching into a corner 
 sheltered by the granite blocks, lighted a fire. Soon the dry sticks 
 were fairly crackling, and the smoke rose like a white scarf in the 
 moonlight. The light and heat of the fire were both cheering, for 
 the wind began to moan very sadly, and the white slips of moonlight 
 between the great columns of the temple shifted and looked un- 
 earthly. The stones themselves took queer shapes as the flame of 
 the burning wood illumined their edges. One seemed to resemble a 
 large toad, and another appeared like a kneeling figure. 
 
 The quiet of their fireside was destined to be disturbed. No doubt 
 the cripple was more nervous than Phil, for he was continually hearing 
 suspicious noises. This time he declared " there was a rum row, like 
 muffled drums a long way* off. I don't like the look o' this here," he 
 added ; " I wish Billy was come, w r e'd be off." 
 
 This was apparently Phil's wish also, for he crawled from under the 
 leaning stone, and climbed upon a block that commanded a view of 
 the plain. He stretched out his neck and stared in every direction 
 till his eyes ached. Then, urged on by Ned, he summoned up courage 
 to break the dead silence of night, and, putting his hands to his 
 mouth, sent forth a shout that echoed among the ruins, and was car- 
 ried by the wind across the gloomy waste. The sheep-dogs round 
 about were the only living things that answered to the cry. 
 
. 1 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 289 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BILLY FORTUNE PROVES THAT HE CANNOT BE TRUSTED ALONE. 
 
 Tibed out with Laving to wait for Billy's return, Phil and Ned 
 Purchase took to the only consolation left them, that of abusing the 
 cause of their trouble. ,They sat for a time one on each side the fire, 
 as quiet as hobs. They saw the embers turn into white ashes, and 
 neither had energy enough to throw on another piece of stick. Occa- 
 sionally Phil would push the black wood closer together with his 
 foot, but even that exertion disturbed the resigned feeling of despair 
 which was turniug him as sour as a bill-discounter's claret. It shook 
 up the vials of his wrath to move. 
 
 " I wish I'd got hold of Billy," he muttered at last. " Give me a 
 firm grip of his hair, and I would stain him plum coloured." 
 
 He looked remarkably savage, and frowned like the lion on a door- 
 knocker, but his body remained drawn up and motionless as that of 
 an Indian at a war council. 
 
 "His turn will come next," growled JSTed. "Won't I keep him 
 waiting, that's all ; the middle of next week shall be nothen to it." 
 " I wish he was hung, curse him !" 
 
 " Or roasted alive," added the cripple, who was thinking of the 
 dying fire. 
 
 The wind grew more violent as the morning approached. When 
 the east became streaked with the returning light, as if the day 
 had opened its Venetian blinds to let the bright dawn peep through, 
 the wind swept over the plain, howling like a dog let loose to chase 
 away the ugly night. The beggars crouching beneath the big 
 stones of the Druids' temple cursed the wind as it circled around 
 them and made their teeth chatter. It got up the sleeves of their 
 coats, swelling them out, round and tight as drain-pipes ; it tugged 
 at their caps, and blew their hair away as if to get at their ears 
 and make them ache. Sometimes it caused the dead black embers 
 of their fire to grow suddenly crimson. It blew away the ashes 
 and the dust, tidying up the hearth better than any spinster with a 
 broom. Strange sounds came with these sudden gusts. They heard 
 the clock of Drudeshurst strike, and both lads pricked up their ears 
 to learn the hour, but at the third stroke the breeze had passed and 
 taken the sound with it. The crushing, grating noise of heavy wheels 
 — perhaps miles off — would seem as close as if a waggon were lum- 
 bering along the road across the plain, or the barking of dogs would 
 flit by them, the yelping becoming more and more distinct and then 
 gradually dying off, as though the animals themselves were racing 
 through the air. 
 
 They listened with assumed courage to the screaming and moaning 
 of the hurricane rushing through the pine-trees on the distant hill. 
 
 v 
 
290 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " It's just like some one being murdered," said Phil. 
 "By jingo! I think it is," replied Ned, seizing his crutch. 
 He was told not to be a fool, but sit still. But for this, he would 
 have limped away. 
 
 Then came the same mysterious sound of muffled drums which 
 had before disturbed them — a. rolling, deadened noise, that appeared 
 to come from every side. Was it thunder under ground, or an earth- 
 quake that would topple over the huge stones like so many skittles ? 
 They held their breath and listened. It seemed as if daylight would 
 never come. 
 
 The cripple began to complain that the cold had taken hold of the 
 stump of his leg and made it ache as though it had been crushed. 
 He began to move it, rocking to and fro as if he had a child in his 
 arms. He would soon have fallen asleep with the rocking motion ; 
 his moans were gradually dying away, but, just as he was dozing 
 off, his arm was violently seized, and, starting from his nap, he saw 
 Phil white as moonlight, and looking intently into the black distance. 
 "Ned! Ned!" gasped the boy, "there's that cussed row again, 
 and awful. Get up — it's coming here." 
 
 Ned heard it too. The same muffled sound — the same dead noise. 
 It seemed to roll along, and the earth on which they were seated ap- 
 peared to jolt. The cripple tried to rise, but fell sprawling on the 
 ground, whilst Phil, seizing the crutch, stood valiantly on the defence. 
 They had given themselves up for lost, when, as if by magic, the en- 
 tire space of the temple became filled with countless sheep, and as 
 the animals stood still to stare at the boys, the noise ceased. The 
 stamping of their feet as they raced over the turf had played this 
 devil's tattoo. 
 
 There were hundreds of the yellow-woolled beasts. They drew 
 themselves up in a circle around the boys, and, with raised heads, 
 stared their hardest. Presently a dog made its appearance, and 
 walked round the strangers with a crouching, wolfish step, growling 
 the while. He showed his teeth so spitefully, Ned was not sorry 
 when the shepherd stalked up to their side. 
 
 The man began to snigger as he approached the tramps, saying, 
 " "Well, a bit of fire ain't a bad thing of cold nights ;" and, opening 
 his palms, held them to the smouldering embers. He was a fa- 
 miliar sort of fellow, well accustomed to seeing encampments under 
 the big stones. When the lads related how they had been frightened, 
 he laughed, and told them " they was not the first by many a score," 
 adding, "that the ground of the plain was, he believed, underminded, 
 and that gave it its sounds." 
 
 " Who underminded it?" asked Ned. 
 
 " Ah, that was before we was thought of," answered the man, who 
 had seated himself, and was carefully arranging on the smouldering 
 embers the few sticks that remained. The dog approached and 
 crouched near its master, whilst the sheep commenced grazing and 
 nibbling the grass around. 
 
 Tired of their own society, the boys were not sorry to have a com- 
 panion. 
 
 "What did they undermind it for?" asked Ned, thirsting for 
 knowledge. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 291 
 
 "You'd better ax him as stuck up these here stones," the man 
 replied, pointing to the granite pillars. 
 
 No doubt it was in order that he'd find out the gentleman that 
 Ned inquired his name. 
 
 " "Why, the devil, to be sure," was the answer. " Did you never 
 hear of how he built this here Stonehenge ?" 
 i Unlike many educated persons, the lads were not ashamed to con- 
 I fess their ignorance, Ned observing that he thought " they growd 
 ? there promiscuous-like." 
 
 ( The shepherd had been by himself all the night, and was not sorry 
 to have the chance of talking. 
 
 * "What I'm going to tell you is as true as if it took place yester- 
 day — leastways everybody in these parts believes so, and there's some 
 thousands of us, so we can't all be wrong. A many years ago — some 
 says such a long time ago, that hang me if I thinks there ever could 
 have been such a time — there was a conjuring chap as was called 
 Merlin by name, and says he to the devil (he knowed him very 
 intimate), ' Gro over to Ireland and bring me some stones as you'll 
 find there' — these here very ones. So off goes the devil — for he 
 was mortal afraid of this here conjuring chap — and, when he gets 
 to Ireland, he dresses hisself up first-rate, and goes to the old woman 
 as owned these stones — the same as you sees — and says he, f You 
 shall have as much money for these here stones,' says he, ' as you 
 can count out,' says he, ' whilst I'm removing of them.' She was 
 agreeable, and thinks she to herself, ' "What a fool the devil must 
 be, for,' says she, ' they ain't exactly the kind of things to be slipped 
 into a coat-tail pocket,' says she. He claps down a bag of money, but 
 just as she's going to count, he cries out, * Hold hard ! old woman, 
 the stones is gone !' She thought he was gammoning her, but she 
 soon found out her mistake. They was gone, and she only got four- 
 pence for them, though they're worth many a honest sovereign to 
 the people about here, for they draws a world of people to Drudes- 
 hurst." 
 
 " That's a bouncer!" exclaimed Phil, laughing. 
 
 The shepherd was hurt at the expression. He would have refused 
 to continue the legend if Ned, on being appealed to, had not avowed 
 the most implicit belief. 
 
 ""When the devil brings these here very stones to this con- 
 juring chap, says he, ' "Where shall I put 'em ?' So they was stuck 
 up here, as it's airy and open, and here they're likely to stick, at any 
 rate for our time, thank G-od !" 
 
 " Do you mean to say you believe that crammer ?" asked Phil. 
 
 " Believe it?" replied the shepherd. " I tell you there's sulphur 
 in every ounce of them. Why, go to Bulford, and you'll see one of 
 these here blocks as the devil dropped in the river there, owing 
 to the lash round the bundle getting loose." 
 
 Phil indignantly cried out, " Gro on with you — you won't goose 
 me !" A quarrel ensued, in which the shepherd called the young 
 tramps " a couple of blackguard thieves," and, in return, was termed 
 "a mutton-headed fool." Eventually the man whistled his dog after 
 him, and walked off from such unbelieving company. 
 
 v2 
 
292 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 They laughed over the story of Stonehenge, and the stupid 
 shepherd who had related it, little thinking it was not the simple 
 rustic, but Jeffery of Monmouth (a.d. 1130), who was to blame for 
 the strange history. Just as the excitement of the quarrel was 
 wearing off, they heard a low, tremulous whistle, which they in- 
 stantly recognised as the signal peculiar to, and much used by, Wil- 
 liam Fortune, Esq. 
 
 That youth, jolly and lively as if he had found a five pound note, 
 advanced towards his friends as unconcernedly as if he had not 
 been absent more than half an hour. " Here comes the supper- 
 tray," he cried, "and the chap as supplied it." 
 
 They neither of them greeted him, but looked as sulky as if they 
 sat in the stocks. The sensitive Billy was pained by so cold a re- 
 ception. "Making faces !" he cried. " Hullo ! why, what's all this 
 here about ? Whose cow has died, eh ?" 
 
 "I'll soon tell yer what this here's about," retorted Ned. "What 
 do you keep chaps waiting for like this here ? Do you think we let 
 ourselves out by the hour ? It don't wash, I can tell yer." 
 
 " Who said it washed ?" answered Billy. " Do you think I've 
 been enjoying myself so werry comfortable, eh ? You're good 'uns ! 
 Ain't we all in the same swim? Ain't I been near grabbed as 
 touch and go ?" He pulled up his trouser, and exhibited a wound 
 in the leg. " What do yer think of this kind of amusement ? Very 
 nice, eh ? Well, I prefers going in when half-price is begun — that's 
 all !" 
 
 Naturally enough, they began to pity their wounded companion. 
 A dozen questions were asked before he had time to answer one, 
 as to how he had met with the misfortune. 
 
 " Wait till we're eating," was the victim's only reply. Whilst 
 he was searching in his pockets, he asked them, " Now, what would 
 you like pertic'lar luptious — fowls ?" 
 
 " If they'd been dead a month I'd eat 'em," cried Phil. 
 " Or a rattling young chicken?" suggested Billy. 
 " "Very sweet eating, and not to be by no means sneezed at," was 
 Ned's rapid response. 
 
 " Well, then, here's some of the youngest chickens as is manufac- 
 tured under the present process," continued Billy, producing from 
 his tattered coat some dozen eggs — " chickens as will never live to 
 see daylight in this here hard-hearted world of ourn." Without 
 noticing their disappointed looks, he added, " Shove 'em in the fire 
 and fry 'em. They're sweet as innocence, and the feathers won't 
 choke yer." 
 
 To complete the repast, he had brought some apples and a few 
 potatoes, with the wet earth still about them. The young fellows 
 were soon eating as if he who swallowed fastest was to have the 
 largest share. They began with the apples, then set to at the half- 
 cooked eggs, and wound up with baked potatoes. 
 
 Billy's adventures were the salt which gave the meal its relish. He 
 told them how a dog as big as a cow, with teeth like clothes-pegs, 
 caught him in the hen-house, and kept him there. He related his 
 fears on hearing the farm-house windows thrown open, and voices 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 293 
 
 call out, " Who's there ?" He tried to stuff a fowl into the dog's 
 mouth and make his escape, but the brute was too knowing to 
 allow itself to be gagged. Seven hens, with twisted necks, were 
 ready for being carried off. The eggs were in his cap when the 
 dog made his appearance. He took down the pole on which the 
 birds were roosting to defend himself, but " the cussed birds made 
 such a row" at being toppled from their perch, that they might be 
 heard miles off. At last he heard men coming towards the hen- 
 house. He heard them ask one another if the gun was loaded, and, 
 as he preferred risking the dog's teeth to being riddled with shot, 
 he determined to rush off. " I sent the pole slap into the dog's gullet, 
 and cut ; but the beggar was after me as soon as he'd emptied his 
 mouth, and just filled it again with a bit of my leg. Now do you 
 understand what all this here was about — eh ?" 
 
 The apologies that ensued were most handsome, and Mr. Fortune 
 listened to them with great meekness and gratification. He even 
 borrowed Phil's neckerchief with which to bind up his wound, 
 having first applied a poultice of bruised grass and yolk of egg to 
 draw out the poison of the bite. Not that Mr. "William was in any 
 way versed in the use of medicines, but he was impressed with the 
 belief that anything wet and unctuous was an excellent remedy for 
 all kinds of sores. 
 
 The morning was coming. The east was pale, and the light rising 
 like a mist from the horizon. It was only in the west that the stars 
 were still visible. The clouds were floating along rapidly as weeds 
 in a mill-stream, and the air tweaked the boys' noses as only the 
 air of earlyday can. Ail three bent over the fire, and felt so cruelly 
 cold they would have set fire to a cottage had they dared, for the sake 
 of the heat it would give. 
 
 A dog barked — a loud, deep yell that came from jaws opening wide 
 as garden shears — and Bill Fortune's head turned round suddenly, as 
 if his name had been called. He knew the sound, and had felt the 
 jaws. He leaped to his feet, and listened with his head towards the 
 barking, his eyes straining the while with fear. There was no mis- 
 take. He recognised the clarion of the enemy who was rushing upon 
 them. 
 
 " If you don't want to be lagged," he said, in a tone which was con- 
 vincingly earnest, " we must look slippy. Come on, before that infernal 
 dog sees us. They're down on us. Push forwards, Ned, and hop as 
 if you was a frog in pumps. Our names must be Walker, and no 
 catchee no havee the word." 
 
 A farmer close by had a field of promising corn, and through it the 
 three boys bolted, doing ten pounds' worth of mischief in their course. 
 They cared not if the farmer were ruined provided they got clear off. 
 A field of beans lay before them, and into it they plunged like rabbits 
 into underwood, levelling the thick, pulpy stalks as they waded along. 
 The barking of the dog still followed behind, and once Billy thought 
 he could distinguish the sound of horses' hoofs. On they rushed, the 
 cripple working his crutch with desperate energy, and almost heading 
 his companions by the immense leaps he took. They gained a plan- 
 tation of firs, and darted into it by Billy's advice, to " take the shine 
 
294 paved with gold. 
 
 out of the chaps on horseback," as he said. It was slow work winding 
 their way among the trunks, and the yelping seemed to be gaining 
 upon the fugitives. Neither could Ned use his crutch so advan- 
 tageously as on the road. They determined to remain concealed in 
 this wood, and it was further agreed that Billy should venture on a 
 reconnoitring expedition, to see if they were really being hunted. 
 "For," said that bold young vagrant, "perhaps we're only funking 
 ourselves useless, and it mayn't be the farm chaps at all. If anything 
 happens, we meet at Salisbury." But Billy was a deep rogue. It 
 was not for his friends' safety, but for his own, that he undertook this 
 errand. He determined to be off. " I am the only chap they could 
 prove against," he thought. " They could sessions me, but Ned and 
 Phil are safe enough. "Whilst they are being collared I shall slope 
 away easy." Prom curiosity, he went to the edge of the wood and 
 passed down the road. He saw a mob of men with pitchforks, led on 
 by one mounted on horseback, while in front ran the terrible mastiff. 
 Standing upon the highest of the hillocks, or barrows on the plain, 
 was the figure of a shepherd, directing the pursuers which way to take. 
 It was the man who had related the legend of the Druids' temple. 
 
 Master Billy got safely off, and the other two were seized. The 
 man on horseback was very wrath, and swore he would give them six 
 months at the tread- wheel. He would drag them off then and there 
 to the nearest magistrate, and have them committed. 
 
 That morning Sir "William Hatcher was in deep consultation with 
 his banker — Mr. Nathaniel Crosier — relative to certain moneys which 
 he wished to raise on mortgage for immediate use. As the security 
 was excellent, the business did not take long. They were chatting on 
 other matters, when the baronet was called upon, as a magistrate, to 
 commit our two young gentlemen to the county prison for robbery. 
 As Sir William was much pleased with the banker's prompt manner 
 of advancing money, he asked Crosier if he would like to hear the 
 case. " Sometimes these examinations are very amusing," said Sir 
 "William. 
 
 The banker smiled in answer. 
 
 But the pleasant expression soon left Mr. Crosier' s lips, and the 
 case ceased to promise amusement when he caught sight of one of the 
 culprits. He stumbled backwards as if some person had struck him. 
 ' Grood Heavens !" he said to himself, "that boy must not go to 
 prison whatever he may have done." 
 
 Despite the assurances of Mr. Simcox, sen., of the Temple, the 
 banker felt that Philip Merton was his daughter's child. He heard 
 the boy, when his name was asked, give it boldly, and, though he was a 
 man of great nerve, he could not prevent his lip from twitching. 
 He gained heart a little when he found that robbing a henroost was 
 the only charge brought forward. " Twenty pounds will settle the 
 matter," he thought. The determined denials of guilt made by Phil 
 gave him great ease. "I shall not have to give the money after 
 all," he said to himself. 
 
 The son of Katherine Merton saw the solemn, hard-featured banker, 
 and in an instant recognised the father of the laughing school- girl 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 295 
 
 whom lie had known in his donkey- driving days. He fancied the old 
 gentleman did not remember his face. " I shouldn't like her to know 
 of this," thought Phil. 
 
 The farmer couldn't swear to the boys, but they swore lustily to 
 their own innocence, so — aided by a few remarks from Nathaniel 
 Crosier, Esq. — the case was dismissed. The banker drew a breath that 
 made his neatly-plaited shirt-frill expand like an accordion. 
 
 " Boys !" exclaimed the magistrate, pompously, "let this be a warn- 
 ing to you. Eeturn to your friends and be honest. Eemember, 
 many now rolling in wealth have begun life as poor as you. Have 
 you any friends ?" The baronet looked at Phil, and the banker closed 
 his eyes with fear. 
 
 " Sir," answered the grandson, " I don't know a single person in 
 the world who cares that for me," and he snapped his fingers. 
 
 The banker felt the lad spoke truthfully. 
 
 They were discharged, and set off walking as fast as if they feared 
 the magistrate might alter his decision and send, for them again. 
 They asked their way to Salisbury, where they were to meet Billy. 
 " How he would laugh over the adventure," they said, and " thank his 
 stars he was not ' lagged.' " 
 
 They had gone some three miles, when they heard a gig, driven at 
 a furious rate, following them. They stood on one side to let the 
 vehicle pass. The horse, covered with sweat, seemed to be running 
 away, but to their surprise its speed was checked as it neared them, 
 and the gig stopped within a few yards of where they stood. It was 
 the solemn, hard-featured banker who had been driving in this reck- 
 less manner. He descended, and beckoned Phil to him. 
 
 " You have had a narrow escape, young gentleman," he began, 
 " and I'm glad you were able to acquit yourself. You say you have 
 no friends. I feel interested in you, and should like to save you 
 from ruin. Supposing I felt inclined to assist you — I say sup- 
 posing — could vou, do you think, lead an honourable life for the 
 future?" 
 
 The protestations that followed sounded as if the boy spoke sin- 
 cerely: "If he only had work," &c. &c. 
 
 " If, as you say, work is so scarce, why not go to other countries 
 where it is plentiful ? Would you emigrate, now, if the passage were 
 paid for you ?" 
 
 The anxiety with which Mr. Crosier waited for the reply was pain- 
 fully evident. He flushed when Phil vowed he was ready to start on 
 the morrow. 
 
 He gave the boy a hastily-scribbled note — on a leaf from his pocket- 
 book — addressed to Simcox of the Temple, and — which pleased Phil 
 more — a sovereign to take him up to town. Then he got into his 
 gig again and drove away, but at a very gentle pace this time. 
 
 The story was soon told to Ned. " Shall you emigrate ?" asked 
 the cripple. 
 
 " Not I," replied Phil. 
 
 They read the letter to Simcox of the Temple. Written in pencil 
 were the words, " This is the boy." 
 
 " He knows you !" exclaimed Ned. 
 
296 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " It's rum, ain't it ?" answered Phil. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Simeox received a letter, announcing Phil's 
 speedy visit to the Temple, and giving full directions about shipping 
 him off to Australia. In Mr. Simeox' s next bill of costs was this 
 serious item : " Having received instructions from you relating to the 
 boy Merton, waiting at home three days, but he never came, 9Z. 9s." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN WHICH WE BLUSH FOR THE CAPTAIN. 
 
 Whet* a man of thirty — Captain Crosier was thirty-one — falls in 
 love, he is as thoroughly lost as if he had fallen over Shakspeare's 
 cliff. The heart of a man of thirty is tough and solid. It has changed 
 from clay to brick, hard-baked by experience. It chips, and the marks 
 remain. 
 
 What a boy of eighteen calls a heart is a soft yielding mass, to be 
 dented and impressed by the merest squeeze of the hand, or slightest 
 pressure of the foot. Youthfulness wraps it up, and keeps it ever 
 plastic, as the wet cloths about a sculptor's model. A little water — a 
 few tears — just to soften the clay, and the last image may be oblite- 
 rated, and the clay ready for a new face. 
 
 A boy's love is as the flame of a spirit lamp — lighted in a moment, 
 blown out in a moment ; giving little light, and burnt out quickly. 
 A man's love is a house on fire, difficult to kindle — but, when it does 
 rage, not all the fire-engines of philosophy, nor all the mains and 
 plugs of resolution, can conquer the blaze. It will roar and crackle 
 until the house gives way, and dust is returned to dust, and ashes to 
 ashes. 
 
 That Captain Crosier was in love, was as certain as that London is 
 in Middlesex, and that his love was dishonourable and mean is as po- 
 sitive as that the aforesaid London was not built in a day. He was 
 almost ashamed that Bertha should have obtained such power over 
 him. Not an hour passed without his asking himself, some twenty 
 times, whether he really loved the girl. He endeavoured to persuade 
 himself that his affection was a mere caprice, a stupid whim, which, 
 if he chose, he could get rid of as easily as he jerked off a slipper. 
 If he found himself growing too sentimental, he summoned to his aid 
 his stronger and coarser nature, and, to conquer his weakness, would 
 abuse the girl, calling her a housemaid and a drudge at ten pounds a 
 year. He found great temporary relief in assuming a disgust towards 
 himself for not " flying at higher game." He liked to persuade him- 
 self he was making a great sacrifice in loving Bertha. He could 
 mention thirty young ladies who would be only too glad to change 
 places with this hesitating housemaid. Some of these young ladies 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 297 
 
 could sing, play the piano, speak French, and that sort of thing. All 
 Bertha could do was to look pretty, and mend linen. Besides, she 
 wasn't grateful. 
 
 How do we know that Captain Crosier was in love ? Did he, like 
 Sir Proteus, go ungartered ? No ! he wore socks, and required no 
 garters. Did he wreathe his arms like a malcontent ? No ! they 
 usually hung down straight and limp as bellropes, for he was an idle 
 man, and of little energy. Did he relish a love song ? If an organ 
 played " Still so gently" beneath his windows, he swore at it. Did 
 he sigh frequently ? Only after long draughts from the tankard of 
 bitter ale. He was beyond all poetic tests, for he was of a gross 
 nature, and, unless moved by drink, but little addicted to sentiment. 
 In describing his sufferings — for he did suffer — it would be absurd 
 to waste any flowers of speech. Most decidedly this long-legged 
 officer could not be likened to a captive bird struggling for liberty, 
 and beating its pretty bosom against its cruel cage, as Bertha might 
 fantastically be styled. We would not even typify the moustachoed 
 swain as a wretched dog whining to be free of its chain, and vainly 
 trying to force its head through its relentless collar — another allusion 
 to the cruel maid. We much prefer, in matter of fact parlance, to 
 state that, since his mind had been spurred into briskness by Bertha's 
 piercing eyes, and whipped into gentle exercise by her long lashes, ever 
 since he had had something to think about besides prize fights, horse 
 races, and rat-killing, his body had become more and more listless 
 and torpid, as if his organisation did not contain energy enough to 
 keep both muscle and brain working. He lay from morning till 
 night upon the sofa, motionless as a bundle. His cigar went out 
 twenty times before he had finished smoking it. He looked more as 
 if he were thinking of suicide than love, as though he were reflecting 
 on razors and prussic acid instead of on Bertha and a cottage near a 
 wood. 
 
 Sometimes his reflections became so painful that he was forced to 
 relieve himself with a whistling accompaniment. Whenever he de- 
 spaired of success, he whistled. Whenever it struck him the girl 
 might in time become a nuisance, and he wish to get rid of her, 
 he whistled. If he pondered over the guilt and wickedness of such 
 an abandonment, and reflected on the harsh view the world w r ould 
 take of his dishonourable conduct, he whistled. The sadder the 
 thought, the lower the whistle. Sometimes it was not louder than the 
 wind rushing through a keyhole. 
 
 , This seductive young officer had all the inclination to become a 
 Villain, but he lacked the courage, and perhaps the ability. He was 
 /very much afraid of the world. To make a good rogue, a man should 
 /be nine-tenths a genius. He must be a skilful diplomatist, know 
 how to plot, and dare to execute, not caring the value of a bad egg 
 what his neighbours may say. Could Crosier read thoughts in the 
 glance of an eye ? He could scarcely read them when in good bold 
 print. Had he strength of mind ? Weak as bonnet-wire. Could 
 he adhere steadfastly to one purpose ? He was blown away as easily 
 as flue from polished marble. As for the world's opinion, the criti- 
 
298 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 cism of a street boy distressed him. He discontinued wearing a 
 white hat in consequence of a rude observation delivered by a vulgar 
 lad of twelve. ^ 
 
 This seductive young officer was a weak, timid man, who, if he did 
 an evil action one moment, repented of it the next. Although he had 
 animal courage enough to stand all the warlike tests of an active mi- 
 litary life, he was not bold enough to resist the temptations which beset 
 the idle life of a soldier in time of peace. His great ambition was to 
 render himself worthy by different excesses of the friendship of such 
 dashing blades as Tom Oxendon or Charley Sutton. Had he stopt at 
 home instead of entering the army, Crosier would most probably have 
 taken to gentler pleasures, and felt delight in the pleasant pastimes 
 of Sunday-school teaching, and keeping tame rabbits. He would 
 have turned religious, not from any inward conviction, but to gain the 
 esteem of the old ladies in the neighbourhood. 
 
 He had a half suspicion that his noble brother officers looked down 
 upon him for being the son of a banker. It was excessively morti- 
 fying to his pride to hear a banker called a tradesman. To coun- 
 teract these annoying prejudices, he did all he could to convince his 
 gallant friends that he was a reckless, clever dog, ever ready for any 
 roguery, however desperate and dangerous it might be. To earn 
 their good opinion, he drank two glasses for their one ; and, although 
 his income was infinitely less, he spent as much money as they did. 
 It was to gain their esteem more than to satisfy his own desires, that 
 he first laid siege to Bertha. If Lord Oakes or Viscount Ascot had, 
 when he entered on this amatory campaign, spoken one disparaging 
 word, Bertha would have been left in peace. To oblige a nobleman, 
 Crosier would make any sacrifice. He always considered that Eng- 
 land's hope was its aristocracy. 
 
 There are some men who only admire a woman because others are 
 captivated by her. On the day when Bertha was seen stitching at 
 her window, the captain was rather astonished that his friends should 
 have thought her so beautiful. He had seen her many times before, 
 and looked upon her as a pretty, badly -dressed thing; but it was 
 not until his fashionable companions dilated upon her beauties, that 
 he felt any violent affection for her. Their praises had served 
 to trim the wick and turn up the cotton of his flame. His love 
 began with envy. Because she lived in a house facing his apart- 
 ments, he considered her as his property, and it delighted him to think 
 that anything he possessed should be envied by his set. 
 
 There was a time, as we have said, when one drop of cold water 
 applied by the noble lord or viscount, would have completely extin- 
 guished the little love-spark that ran about the tinder of Crosier's 
 bosom. But now that time was gone by. It was too late. His 
 heart, like a hayrick stacked when damp, was heated and smouldering ; 
 and if the entire " Blue Book" had cast their buckets full of freezing 
 reporofs at the ardent swain, it would not have cooled his love. 
 
 He thought of Bertha at all times and all places ; whilst shaving or 
 pulling on his boots ; when in cabs or taverns. Even whilst his hair 
 was being cut, the soothing sensation of having his locks played with, 
 called up especially tender thoughts. He entered jewellers' shops to 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 299 
 
 ask the price of brooches, bracelets, and earrings, thinking only of 
 Bertha. If his love was not equal to the sacrifice of the ten or 
 twenty guineas asked, it was only because his success was as yet 
 doubtful, and the speculation too heavy. Because he saw some re- 
 semblance to Bertha's eyes in a thirty-shilling print, he bought it, and 
 ordered a costly frame. It was a foreign production, with the title in 
 three languages, the English one being " The Beturn of the Dances." 
 It represented a well-proportioned young lady, risking a severe cold 
 by reposing herself, en dishabille, after the fatigues of an evening 
 party. Do not imagine that it was on account of the value of this 
 print, or because it was an elegant piece of furniture, that the captain 
 had it so expensively framed, for he treated with equal honour a 
 common shilling lithograph, entitled, " A Glass of Gin, young man ?" 
 and that solely because the mouth and chin of the barmaid repre- 
 sented were of a similar shape to those in the possession of his be- 
 loved Bertha. When, in answer to his question, the stationer who 
 sold this shilling lithograph told him it had been much admired, 
 and uncommonly successful, he felt a thrill of delight play about the 
 third button of his waistcoat, that the entire British public should 
 have the same taste as himself, and patronise a face bearing such a 
 resemblance to his adored one. 
 
 Occasionally of an afternoon, when he felt very lonely, and yet not 
 inclined to sleep, Crosier would take up a book and stumble through 
 a page or two. He would mark in pencil any sentimental passage 
 that struck him as being particularly tender. Formerly, he used to 
 skip what he called " twaddle." Now, he felt great relief in reading 
 the amiable sufferings so like what he experienced. He entered 
 with a sympathising spirit into the descriptions of the lover's trials, 
 and would even utter a pitying "poor devil !" if the agony was very 
 great. Whilst reading in this way he would long for Bertha to be 
 by his side, that her sighs might mingle with his own over the harrow- 
 ing portions, or her prima donna laugh be joined to his basso prof undo 
 chuckle at the comic passages. " When she is melancholy," he would 
 mutter, " she does look so thundering handsome, though she's just as 
 rattling when she laughs." He often said she had a prettier smile 
 than any woman he ever knew, and his acquaintance was very exten- 
 sive. It did him good to catch sight of those faultless white teeth, 
 with a little dot of light sparkling on the bright enamel. At such 
 times he felt a weight in his chest from excess of admiration, similar 
 to that caused by a slight indigestion-, but more gratifying. 
 
 The most peculiar effect produced upon the captain by his loving 
 condition, was that it was gradually purifying his mind, and cleansing 
 it from its thick outer crust of grossness. The midnight haunts began 
 to disgust him, late hours made him feel sleepy, and even drink lost 
 many of its charms for him — for at a second glass he would feel slightly 
 intoxicated. He no longer cared to stare at women, his ogle lost all 
 its winning piquancy, and he could no longer smile as he was wont to 
 smile. If an elegantly-dressed lady passed, he might look at her 
 dress, but he cared nothing for her face. Where could he see any 
 one lovelier than Bertha ? After he had examined her toilet, he in- 
 variably thought what an assistances ilks and ribands were to the 
 
300 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 female form, and how overpoweringly resplendent his Bertha would 
 be if she had such advantages to assist her. Once — it was in Curzon- 
 street — he stood still for ten minutes, gazing after a well-arranged 
 shawl, and, all the time he was admiring the neatly adjusted folds 
 on the shoulder, and the admirable manner in which the Cashmere 
 was pulled in at the waist to make it fit smoothly on the back, and 
 give it a bell-like sweep as it rose over the skirts, he was saying to 
 himself, " That's art, not nature ; that woman has been, I know, 
 hours arranging her shawl. But with Bertha it would have been 
 the work of a minute. If she were to fling a shawl on her, it would 
 look fifty times better. She has the most exquisitely-proportioned 
 figure, the roundest, best modelled, prettiest formed," &c, &c, &c, 
 for, were we to give at full length all the captain's praises, we should 
 require at least one entire page. 
 
 It would have been a great relief to this loving man if he had been 
 blessed with an intimate friend to whom he could have confided the 
 emotions which filled his mind. No doubt this intimate friend would 
 have been bored to death, and have many times wished that either the 
 lover or the loved one would depart this world. You can under- 
 stand that after having publicly announced he was tired of the girl, 
 and even offering to sell his share and interest in her for a pound 
 of cigars, he could not with decency pour his love-w r ailings into the 
 ears of Tom Oxendon, or any of that set. It was a relief to him when 
 alone in his room to address even the chairs or tables, and declare to 
 these chattels how great was his affection for the incomparable Bertha. 
 [Frequently whilst dressing of a morning he would rehearse to himself 
 all the speeches he would make to the little girl the next time he 
 saw her, and, carried away by his fancy, would utter them aloud, 
 giving the words with great feeling and action, flourishing his razor 
 about whilst his chin was covered with a smooth coating of suds, 
 most unromantic to behold. If any one, during these monologues, hap- 
 pened to knock at the door, the captain's reason returned in an in- 
 stant, and, half-ashamed of such childish conduct, he would endeavour 
 to turn the vehement declaration of love into a badly-hummed opera 
 air, in the hopes of impressing the intruder with the belief that he 
 was not half crazed with love, but only very fond of music. Then, 
 again, how many witty things did Bertha utter during his interviews 
 with her, all of which — spoken, dear girl, as if she were quite un- 
 conscious of their merit — were lost to the world, because he knew 
 nobody to whom he dare repeat them. There was that observation 
 of hers on tea, made by her the last time she presided at the tray. 
 How clever it was ! — how true ! What a knowledge of human 
 nature it evinced ! He had asked her, in a pleasant joking manner, why 
 ladies whilst drinking tea talked so wickedly of one another ? She 
 had answered, laughing most divinely, " Because ladies seldom drank 
 tea till dusk, and that was scandal (candle) time.' ' H e swore she meant 
 \t. He called it true wit. He sent it to a comic paper of the day 
 arranged as a conundrum. But he knew no one to whom he could 
 rush off in a cab and relate the wonderful mot. He felt as if he were I 
 being cheated out of the praises to which he was entitled for giving his 
 affection to a lady of such wit and perception. Our opinion is that 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 301 
 
 Bertha did not mean to be funny, and did not even attempt it. It 
 was the captain who made the pun, not she, poor innocent girl ! 
 
 Despite an excellent education, the captain found great difficulty 
 in writing even a letter. He disguised a great quantity of bad spell- 
 ing under a scrawling style of penmanship, so that a dash in the 
 middle of a word would pass for one or more m's or n's, as the ne- 
 cessities of the English language might require. He, however — 
 so potent is love — purchased an elegant memorandum - book, in 
 which he penned down the excellent things wherewith Bertha at 
 different times favoured him. His desk contained this precious 
 volume. Every maxim and sentence in it he declared to be excel- 
 lent, saying, " If they arn't witty — which I think they are — they are 
 sure to be d — d sensible, and that's something." The first entry was 
 to this effect : " How wretched it must be to be without a friend ! 
 It is the heart's exile." To the end of this apothegm the adoring 
 Crosier had added the words : " True, by Jove ! and poetical, too. — 
 M. C." Another line ran as follows : " Soldiers and sailors are never 
 friendly, because fire and water cannot agree." This time the 
 captain's remark was more vigorous. He wrote : " Thundering hard ; 
 but by blazes she's right ! — M. C." The forcible language used by 
 the military annotator may be accounted for by stating that the 
 gallant gentleman usually entered his souvenirs of the evening's con- 
 versation on his return home, an event for which there was no fixed 
 hour. The later the return, the greater strength he threw into his 
 commentary. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN'S PLOT. 
 
 Of his own love for Bertha the captain felt perfectly assured, but 
 he was not quite so positive about the return she made to his tender- 
 ness. He would have given a good deal — say five pounds — to have 
 been acquainted with the real state of her feelings. He felt his 
 affection hampered by not knowing whether it was reciprocated, for 
 he did not like to pour out the entire flood of his passion until' he 
 was certain the wells and cisterns of her heart were prepared to 
 receive the sudden flood. He felt it would be a degrading waste 
 of tenderness, and too humiliating an experiment, should she, after 
 the display, still hold her head up, keeping it high and dry above the 
 loving deluge. Could he have been sure of swamping her, he would 
 have given flow to his words. 
 
 Many persons will say, " Why, if the captain was so desperately in 
 love with Bertha, did he not propose to marry her?" "We will tell 
 them. This thought had once or twice entered his brain, as a last ex- 
 pedient in case every other failed, but the gallant gentleman had 
 rapidly chased away the idea, hunting it out with the same angry 
 
302 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 hurry as he would have pursued a strange cat from his bedroom. You 
 see Mrs. Hazlewood had been a workhouse nurse, and Bertha herself 
 only a superior kind of servant. Gentlemen born of respectable 
 parents do not like workhouse people. They pity them, perhaps, but 
 seldom regard them in a matrimonial light. It is a prejudice, and a 
 strong one. The captain saw no objection to passing many years of 
 his life in Bertha's society ; he would allow her to carry his name, and 
 have felt much offended if his friends had treated her with disrespect ; 
 but he could not for one moment think of making her his wife. That 
 would disgrace him ; the other position disgraced only her. He could 
 put up with the latter indignity much more cheerfully than the 
 former. Besides, he was never able to overcome the obstacle he saw 
 in the person of Bertha's mother. * Fancy calling her mother-in- 
 law," he said, making a. wry face, and then laughing at the absurdity. 
 " I could sooner swallow a quart of her own confounded workhouse 
 gruel." In his more pathetic moments — for instance, after he had 
 spent the evening with his beloved, and had returned home perfectly 
 enchanted — Crosier would combat any idea of making Bertha his 
 wife by the ordinary argument, " that he was not a marrying man." 
 He did not see the stupidity of such reasoning. He generously 
 pleaded he should only make her miserable, leaving it to be im- 
 plied that the fact of not having the service read over their union 
 would ensure her happiness. He was not a very bright genius, as we 
 have before hinted. Bertha had no friends beyond her mother and the 
 boy she termed her foster-brother. There was nobody to demand ex- 
 planations, and with clenched fists and scowling brows talk of ven- 
 geance. He was very glad the Hazlewood family was so limited. He 
 had no relish for brothers in the carpenter's business or the black- 
 smith's line of life, who, though they speak curious English, are 
 powerful of arm, and spiteful." 
 
 Another objection to the marriage was that he w r as as yet not posi- 
 tively sure the girl loved him, and he considered that nothing under 
 an attack of madness, brought on from adoration for him, would 
 justify such an absurd step. 
 
 The great difficulty was to devise some plan by which he might dis- 
 cover the real state of Bertha's feeling towards him. He was, although 
 a soldier, not quick at strategy, and had no idea how to proceed in the 
 matter. He cunningly sought the assistance of his friends. He met 
 Tom Garden airing himself in Begent-street, and presently inquired 
 of him the best method by which a man could discover whether a 
 woman loved a man. This Tom Garden was a coarse-minded fellow, 
 and the only suggestion he could make was to ask the woman to lend 
 the man a good round sum of money, " and if she lends it," he added, 
 " you may be sure she's spoony." The idea of asking Bertha to lend 
 him money so tickled the captain that he laughed himself into a head- 
 ache. On another occasion, he made a similar inquiry of Ered Tatten- 
 ham. This time the reply had more wisdom in it, but not more con- 
 solation. * Ask her to bolt with you," answered Mr. P. T., " and, if 
 she will trust herself to your honour, be certain she loves you." That 
 was precisely what Crosier did want Bertha to do, but he scarcely 
 thought she was in a proper state to accede to such a request. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 303 
 
 After deliberating for a week — during which he did not once pay a 
 visit to Camberwell — the captain hit upon the following scheme. 
 The Hazlewoods he knew had no money. The pound or two he had 
 presented to them could not, if they were ever so careful, last out 
 more than a fortnight. He would let them feel what the want of 
 money was like. The most savage animals, he argued, were to be 
 tamed by hunger. Perhaps Bertha was to be conquered by the same 
 method. 
 is To a certain extent this experiment succeeded. The mother and 
 daughter saw their little stock of money grow gradually less and less, 
 and became more and more frightened. They prayed every night 
 Providence would send them single gentlemen to take their first and 
 second floors and pay a week's rent in advance, but still no lodgers ar- 
 rived. At last it became positively necessary that the experiment 
 should be made of obtaining credit of the baker and the butcher. Those 
 tradesmen knew very well the house had been let furnished, and, 
 not liking the personal security of the would-be customers, de- 
 clined all further favours. Things were at this dreadful pass, when 
 the mother determined to pay a visit to the captain. He was in 
 arrear for his parlours, and it was necessary something should be 
 done. She started early in the morning and returned at dusk. It 
 was easy for Bertha to see that her mother had tired herself to no 
 purpose. The captain had gone into the country and would not re- 
 turn for a week. They dined on tea that day and the next as well. 
 It is useless to add that they generally rose from table with an ex- 
 cellent appetite. 
 
 But the captain was not in the country. He heard with great de- 
 light of Mrs. Hazlewood's visit. He felt very much inclined to rush 
 off in a cab and relieve her distress, for a fearful picture rose to his 
 mind of Bertha grown very thin from starvation, and gradually turning 
 to a skeleton. For two days he resisted this impulse, but on the 
 third his good-nature obtained the mastery. 
 
 As he stood at his window he noticed, crouched up in a corner of 
 the area beneath, a wretched cat, that was slowly dying of want. It 
 looked dusty, solemn, and hopelessly weak. A trussed fowl did not 
 show its formation more perfectly. The skin hung about the body 
 in loose folds. It seemed to Crosier as if the spirit of the starving 
 Bertha had come there to rebuke him. He would fly to his beautiful 
 one, and console her with food. He pulled on his boots with de- 
 spairing haste ; he rang the bell so violently that at first Mr. Cutler 
 imagined some muffin-boy had dared to enter the house. Mr. 
 Cutler was ordered first to fetch a cab, and then give some food to 
 the cat in the area. The former of these commissions Mr. Cutler 
 executed, the latter he neglected. He was not going — to use his 
 own words — to turn cat's-meat man to please anybody. 
 
 How glad they were to see him ! How their eyes sparkled as they 
 ran to greet him at the door ! They knew his knock in a moment. 
 The captain was quite overcome by his reception. But a sudden 
 thought crossed his brain, and soured his milky "joy. Was he wel- 
 come for himself alone, or only because he typified, as it were, so 
 much food ? "Was it the quartern loaf, was it the leg of mutton, or 
 
304 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 was it Crosier, that rejoiced Bertha's eyes, and made them sparkle ? 
 Did she smile on him, or was it on the vision of hot meat for dinner ? 
 Terrible misgiving ! 
 
 In the most delicate manner, he gave Mrs. Hazlewood the amount 
 of rent due. In his best style, he apologised for his remissness in 
 neglecting an earlier settlement. He was rather pleased to find that 
 Bertha, far from resembling the cat he discovered crouching in the 
 area, was looking remarkably pretty. The prolonged fast had made 
 her appear fascinatingly delicate, and imparted a peculiar blueness to 
 the under portions of the eyes, which was exceedingly becoming. 
 
 "That man is our guardian angel," cried Mrs. Hazlewood, when 
 the captain took his leave. 
 
 " Who could help loving him ?" added Bertha. 
 
 The starvation experiment was, the captain considered, a failure. 
 Being a man much given to extremes, he now resolved to see what a 
 sudden rush of plenty would do towards softening Bertha's heart. 
 He would send them wine, and every luxury — things they could never 
 hope to enjoy — and feast them into a voluptuous laziness. Then, if 
 necessary, he would starve them again. They would feel it even more 
 after the excessive profusion. 
 
 The area bell never ceased to ring, and single knocks made the hall 
 resound, like a shooting-gallery, with sudden noises. No sooner was 
 Mrs. Hazlewood at the top of the house than she had to run down 
 stairs. One man, with a yellow flannel apron, left a turbot — a thick, 
 white fish, and so fresh that the cord which lashed its tail and head 
 together was as tight as a fiddle-string, on which Paganini could 
 have played. Then came a game-pie, as big as an oyster-tub, and 
 Fortnum's man said there was nothing to pay. Before night a phea- 
 sant was hanging from a hook in the pantry, and a hamper of wine 
 was standing in the back kitchen. 
 
 Perhaps it was that Crosier, who was fond of good living, thought 
 he might as well partake of the sumptuous fare he would have to pay 
 for, or perhaps his affection for Bertha became ungovernable ; but for 
 an entire week he dined at Camberwell. He tried to make himself 
 very entertaining and amiable. Towards the mother he adopted a 
 behaviour which was distantly respectful, and excessively flattering to 
 that lady's self-esteem. To Bertha he endeavoured to convey the 
 idea that he was her slave, her victim. He wished to impress her 
 with the belief that his constitution was being slowly destroyed by 
 love. His sighs were powerful enough to blow out a gas lamp. 
 
 One evening, he brought with him a paper parcel of considerable 
 dimensions. It seemed, from the careful manner in which he handled 
 it, to contain something of great value. This parcel he w r ould allow 
 no one to touch, but with his own hands carried it into the parlours 
 — his own rooms — where they usually dined. During the repast he 
 was excessively attentive to the mother, and made her take wine so 
 often that she was at last obliged to remark that her poor head was 
 becoming affected. She laughed immoderately, and upset a water- 
 bottle. 
 
 Both the ladies were very anxious to know what the paper parcel 
 contained. Their curiosity did not escape his notice. Whenever 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 305 
 
 there was a pause in the conversation their eyes turned to the myste- 
 rious bundle. They had to wait till the cloth was cleared. Then 
 up rose the captain, and, with a trembling voice, stammered out a 
 statement to the effect that as he was passing down Kegent-street 
 he had noticed a remarkably elegant dress. As if afraid his next 
 sentence would give offence, he, with great agitation of manner, 
 requested the mother's permission to present this robe to the daughter. 
 Blushes rose to Bertha's temples, and her eyelids closed in modesty 
 over her eyes. Of course, Mrs. Hazlewood could not object. She 
 was even foolish enough to hint that the gift was excessively accept- 
 able. The blushing girl only raised her head to thank the generous 
 captain, and then resigned herself to her crimson confusion. 
 
 A most magnificent dress. A skirt with three flounces that pouted 
 out like enormous pen- wipers. Silk as thick as leather — that whistled 
 like wind through rigging when the hand swept down it. It was a robe 
 to make the eyes start from the head with surprise. For five minutes 
 the only words Mrs. Hazlewood could make use of were, " How beau- 
 tiful!" and she touched it nervously, as if she expected it to move. 
 The poor Bertha was bewitched, and ready either to cry or laugh. In 
 a glance the captain saw the sensation he had created, and proceeded 
 to take advantage of the situation. 
 
 He took Bertha's hand, and, looking at the mother, said, with a 
 sweet smile, he should insist upon being paid for the dress — that 
 he was a very stingy man, and never gave anything for nothing. 
 Whilst the mother was tittering at this foolish speech, he took 
 Bertha's head between his hands and kissed her on the forehead. It 
 was done in so brotherly a manner that it would have been absurd to 
 make any objection. It was a poetic salutation. He appeared so 
 much affected that instead of blame he seemed more to deserve con- 
 solation. 
 
 "When he left — he always asked for his hat at ten — the mother and 
 daughter began to chat. They had another look at the dress, and a 
 conversation ensued as to how the body was to be fashioned. The 
 length of the skirt was also tested to see if it suited Bertha's height. 
 With a mean knowingness the captain had left in the parcel the 
 mercer's bill, and with unpardonable baseness altered the amount 
 from 4<l. 5s. to 4Z. 15s. He argued that persons in the Hazlewood 
 walk of life only judged of a present by the amount paid for it. 
 
 Mrs. Hazlewood began to have ambitious visions. " I never saw a 
 man so completely in love as that dear captain," she said to Bertha. 
 " Something — I can't tell what it is — but something always con- 
 vinced me you were destined to be lucky. You have a mole on 
 your left cheek, my dear, and that's considered a sign of luck. Your 
 poor father used to say you were born to be a lady, and, upon my word, 
 I think his words will come true." 
 
 She was inconsiderate in saying this, for Bertha's ideas were gallop- 
 ing along quite rapidly enough without additional spurring. She was 
 beginning to worship the dear captain. 
 
 " Poor fellow !" continued the mother, " I wish you could have 
 seen his beautiful look when he kissed you. On the forehead, too. 
 
 x 
 
306 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 "Well, if my time was to come over again, he is just the kind of man I 
 should dream about." 
 
 The captain's reflections were more manly and less virtuous. He 
 was muttering to himself, "Thank Heaven, I've introduced kiss- 
 ing ! It was expensive, but by and by I shall get as many as I want — 
 ah! more than I want — for nothing. I dare say a thirty -shilling 
 affair would have answered just as well ; but I always overdo a thW, 
 like a fool." _ 
 
 The next time the captain visited Camberwell he took with him a 
 bonnet, fresh from the Burlington Arcade. A simple straw, bound 
 with velvet, and adorned with violets. The strings were broad and 
 long. It was a kind of bonnet a princess might have worn, it was so 
 quiet and good. "When this new bonnet was tried on, after dinner, 
 Merton became once more to feel like a brother, and demanded pay- 
 ment in kisses. He chose on this occasion to salute the cheek. 
 " Get gradually down to the lips," was his thought. 
 He determined that, the next time he offered up sacrifices of cloth- 
 ing to his idol, he would make the grand experiment. He objected 
 to foreheads and cheeks. " What the deuce were the lips made for ?" 
 he asked himself. " Come what will, I'll risk the trial. If she takes 
 it quietly, well and good ; if she makes a row, I'll cut the business." 
 "What should he take her ? Gloves ? That didn't seem enough. 
 A shawl ? That was too much. The foolish man had an idea that 
 Bertha's embrace was to be bought, and he was prudent enough to 
 wish to get them at the cheapest price. He fixed upon a velvet 
 mantle with a quilted satin lining and a silk fringe as deep as a 
 horse's mane. It looked fearfully expensive, and, as he paid for it, he 
 thought it was so, too. 
 
 He did kiss her. The girl with the mantle on her shoulders 
 allowed him to touch her lips. He felt, or fancied he felt, her trem- 
 ble. He would have promised her twenty mantles for another em- 
 brace, but the mother — deuce take her — was standing by, and he 
 dared not. 
 
 This old Nurse Hazlewood was a simple-hearted creature who had 
 been so little in the world that she had forgotten all about its deceits. 
 She only remembered that, when her husband courted her, he used to 
 kiss her whenever he brought her any simple present. She looked 
 upon Crosier as the noblest and best man living, and regarded the 
 fact of his embracing Bertha — in her presence, too — as a proof 
 he wished to make her his wife. The old nurse had grown as 
 childish as the infants she looked to in the workhouse nursery. She 
 was without suspicion. The only marvel to her was that so great a 
 gentleman should condescend to notice so humble a girl as her 
 Bertha. 
 
 The sofa in Harley-street was once more covered during the day 
 by the bulky form of the long-legged officer. He had again # fallen 
 into his habit of letting his cigar go out, whilst he dreamed, with his 
 eyes open, of Bertha, and the next steps to be taken. "Dash my 
 wigs," he thought, " I can't afford any more kisses. I felt the little 
 witch tremble. She must love me, and she ought, too, after ten 
 pounds' worth of presents. How the deuce can I make her worship 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 307 
 
 me. I want her to leave off eating and go nearly mad for my sake. 
 It's so cursed difficult, and takes such a time. It's no use asking her 
 to bolt yet, confound it ! I wish she'd grow romantic and follow me 
 all over the world as some of them do." 
 
 It had long been a matter of deliberation with this gentleman 
 whether he should pack up his trunk and occupy, for a week or so, 
 his parlours at Camberwell. It was the idea of being " bored by the 
 old mother" that restrained him. There were many advantages, 
 such as being constantly near the daughter and having her to wait 
 upon him. But the family dinner frightened him. Mrs. Hazlewood 
 would insist on changing the plates, and he couldn't bear the muddle 
 and mess ; it gave him the idea he was dining in the kitchen. She 
 was so confoundedly civil, too, and talked such twaddle. These things 
 were what he called the drawbacks to his happiness. He often 
 wished the old nurse would be obliging enough to die and leave 
 Bertha, alone and friendless, to be cared for and tended by him. 
 
 Now the unhappy youth was a victim of ungovernable passion. 
 His love had, like a cucumber in a bottle, swollen to such a size that 
 he often wondered how it could have entered his bosom. He was 
 drunk with parfait amour. His thoughts ran zigzag, and tumbled 
 about in tipsy helplessness. What could he do ? 
 
 For four years the captain had never passed more than an hour at 
 once over a book. That was, perhaps, twice a week. He looked upon 
 reading as a pleasant manner of taking opium. Following the lines 
 made him feel sleepy. Now he was seized with a sudden desire for 
 literature. He sent Mr. Cutler to the nearest circulating library, and, 
 the subscription paid, an astounding number of three-volume novels 
 were carried backwards and forwards. He could finish off an entire 
 romance in a morning, reading perhaps a line here and there, but 
 always following the story. He skated through the books. 
 
 Being entirely devoid of imagination, he was taking advantage of 
 the brains of others. He was anxious for a lesson or two in love- 
 making ; and, above all, he was desirous of learning how those heroes, 
 whose trials were invariably so severe, whose affections were so con- 
 stantly blighted in the bud, always managed to win their fair ones, 
 and end the story happily. " These novels," thought the captain, 
 " are supposed to be based upon incidents in real life ; perhaps they 
 may put me up to a wrinkle or two about Bertha." 
 
 In the greater number of the romances Crosier found the fair 
 lady was never moved to forget her maidenly reserve and confess her 
 love until some serious danger threatened her admirer. Tor instance, 
 in " Lucy D'Egbert, or a Life," she (Lucy) treats Henry Sinclair 
 with positive disdain up to the time that he is wounded in the duel 
 with Alfred Holbrook. "When on the third day consciousness 
 returned" — we are quoting from the novel — " a cloud seemed to ob- 
 scure his brain and veil his vision. In the midst of this confused 
 shadow, he beheld a gentle face and two pitying eyes, moist with 
 sympathy, like two stars half hidden by a moonlit cloud, which ap- 
 peared to beckon him back to life. Did he dream, or was it reality ? 
 Little by little, the feverish mist cleared away, the features became 
 more distinct, and he recognised the angelic countenance of the once 
 
 i2 
 
308 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 proud, but now humbled Lucy D'Egbert. "With all the strength he 
 was master of he called aloud, ' Lucy, my beloved ! can this be true V 
 f. It is time to take your cooling powders,' she answered, in a voice of 
 superlative tenderness. She loved him." 
 
 After reading such a passage, the captain would give himself to 
 thought. " That's all very fine," he would argue, " but I'll see Bertha 
 further, before I get myself shot in a duel merely to find out if she 
 loves me. That's a little too strong, hang it !" 
 
 That book would be laid aside and another taken up. He was par- 
 ticularly struck with an incident in " Joy and Soeeow, oe Shine 
 and Shade." In that popular romance, Sir Herbert Brompton is 
 thrown from his horse, and is found by Ellen Trevor perfectly sense- 
 less, with one leg dangling over a precipice. She has him conveyed 
 to Trevor Castle, where his fractured arm is set, and she nurses him 
 all through his dangerous illness. It is whilst she is shifting the 
 bandages from his arm that he proposes and is accepted. " Despite 
 the agony he suffered," writes the author, " despite the torture that 
 racked his frame, despite the worse than torment of his mind, Sir 
 Herbert could not regard without feelings of the liveliest pleasure the 
 lovely countenance of his tender nurse. How carefully did she handle 
 the fractured limb. He scarcely felt the taper fingers that played 
 about the now useless member." Then he feels a tear drop on his 
 wrist, and that convinces him he is beloved. 
 
 Neither did Crosier care much to undergo such a trial as Sir Her- 
 bert. He didn't like the idea of being thrown from a horse and 
 breaking an arm. " Begad," be thought, " it might break my head, 
 and then where should I be ? No, no, I'm very fond of Bertha, but I 
 don't think my love goes to the length of a broken arm. Besides, a 
 fellow looks such a fool rolling about in a dusty road with perhaps 
 his trousers split." 
 
 He read and he read, and he liked none of the incidents. Those 
 which pleased him most were when the heroine was in great danger 
 and the lover rescued her from peril. But even then, there was either 
 a burning house, or a boat upset, or an enraged bull to be risked, and 
 he had no fancy either for being singed, ducked, or gored. So, when 
 he had waded through some dozen of these novels, he vowed they were 
 all romance, and not worth the trouble of opening, He found he 
 must trust to his own wits after all, and felt the true awkwardness 
 of the position. 
 
 He was determined to be ill somehow or other, and then to hurry 
 over to Camberwell and ask Bertha to nurse him. He would take 
 something to make himself look pale and interesting, and sham the 
 remainder of the sickness. 
 
 He remembered once buying some ipecacuanha lozenges to ease a 
 troublesome cough, and the young man at the chemist's had strongly 
 cautioned him not to take more than one at a time as they produced 
 a sensation of sickness. To this vendor of medicines did the gallant 
 captain despatch his man, who presently returned with two shilling 
 boxes. The next day the captain packed up his portmanteau, and 
 then, everything being ready for his departure, drew forth his 
 lozenges and commenced to eat. They tasted very pleasantly, and 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 309 
 
 six were rapidly disposed of. He began to consider the chemist a 
 swindler. He vowed he would send a letter to the Lancet exposing 
 the infamous imposition. Before he was half-way through his seventh 
 lozenge he had excellent proof that no more veracious man existed in 
 this world than the druggist who had warned him not to take more 
 than one. 
 
 The emetic asserted itself. With his forehead bathed in cold per- 
 spiration, and with a face as white as a clown's, the captain threw him- 
 self on the sofa and began to pant. A dreadful idea seized him, that 
 he might have poisoned himself. He almost wished he had never seen 
 Bertha. Oh ! how ill he felt. He ran to look at himself in the glass, 
 and the vision shocked him. One or two pimples glowed on his 
 pallid countenance as the strawberries do on the top of a blanc- 
 mange. He could never dare to show himself to Bertha w r ith such 
 a face — she would be disgusted. 
 
 About three o'clock he had a little recovered, but he had undergone 
 a severe time of it, and was positively unwell. He had only sufficient 
 energy to arrange his curls in the looking-glass, and then get into 
 a cab. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HOW THE BEST YEARS OF PHIL'S LIFE WERE WASTED. 
 
 Some few years ago, the masters of the Unions throughout Eng- 
 land became aware that a gang of vagrants was travelling through 
 the land — an organised band under the command of a captain, who 
 directed their actions and ruled supreme, appointing the workhouses 
 where they were to meet, and the towns they were to work. The 
 police were on the alert to lay hold of this band, but, though some 
 few of them were seized, the majority escaped. These captures did 
 not decrease the numbers, for recruits were more numerous than 
 the captain chose to accept. 
 
 The name of this captain was Philip Merton. This is how he 
 attained to the honour. He was nearly eighteen years of age when 
 he, Fortune, and Purchase were on the tramp. Passing through the 
 different towns they found acquaintances. Pour other wanderers 
 joined the schoolfellows. Being a silent, thoughtful youth, Phil was 
 slightly feared and greatly disliked by his companions. They often 
 reproached him that he never stole or worked as they did. If, when 
 they begged at a cottage door, they saw even a scrubbing brush or a 
 morsel of soap, it was pocketed. But Merton never " boned," and 
 was half suspected of being a sneak. In vain Phil pleaded that this 
 morality was owing to no virtuous scruples, but he thought it mean 
 to carry off such useless " penny lots." They considered — and right 
 they were — that the youth, though he dare not confess it to them, 
 objected to theft on principle, and he was nicknamed the "Amen 
 bawler" (parson), and recommended to take [to the " hum box" 
 
310 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 (pulpit) as better suited to him than cadging. Stung to the quick by 
 these taunts, Phil — poor weak fellow — at length gave way. They 
 were working Preston at the time. " I'll show you whether I'm 
 afraid," be cried, leaving them. Presently he returned with a huge 
 basket of clean linen. He had seen a man leave it at a house close by, 
 and knocking at the door had stated that by mistake the wrong basket 
 had been given. The foolish servant had handed back the clothes. 
 " Now," cried Phil, " do you believe I'm a croaker ?" They answered 
 with cheers, for the linen was worth at least five pounds. " And 
 now," added Phil, " I will do another thing which none of you would 
 have courage even to think of." He walked off again, carrying the 
 basket, and his pals saw him return it to the rightful owners. This 
 action, and a severe drubbing administered to Billy Portune, caused 
 Phil to be regarded as an astounding mortal. His companions grew 
 afraid of him. He could read, write, rob, and be honest. He could 
 sing, recite, tell wonderful stories, and bamboozle old women with his 
 glib tongue and handsome face, better than any of the ragged crew. 
 They elected him captain. 
 
 He proved himself a wonderful commander. He learned by heart 
 the long list of Unions from Land's End to the Scottish borders, and 
 could tell what rations of food were served at each — where cheese 
 was allowed, or the bread either sour or short weight. He could in- 
 form you which vagrant wards contained beds, where the rugs were 
 warm, or where only straw was served out. To prevent confusion 
 when working a town, he caused certain signs to be used by his 
 gang. A chalk mark on a doorpost was sufficient to indicate whether 
 it was worth the next comer's while to beg at that house, or to warn 
 him if it was dangerous to make the experiment. Even for the corners 
 of roads, or milestones, or guide-posts, he had different marks, so 
 that if the band was by any misfortune broken up, the members were 
 soon enabled to meet together again. 
 
 Very strange were the nights passed in the casual- wards. Outside 
 the town the gang would separate. One by one they asked for ad- 
 mission at the workhouse-gate. To avoid being traced in their 
 wanderings, they seldom gave their correct names on entering " the 
 house." On different occasions Phil had christened himself Joseph 
 Hume, Arthur Wellington, and Eichard Turpin. If any workhouse 
 master offended this gang, they would, after a time, revisit the union, 
 and in revenge break the windows, burn the rugs, and destroy what- 
 ever was destructible. They carried lucifer -matches with them, con- 
 cealed in their clothes, and, not unfrequently, short, stout sticks. 
 
 Against the Irish tramps this band waged continual warfare. A 
 law was passed that no lad from the sister isle should be admitted 
 into their troop. They even went out of their road sometimes to visit 
 a workhouse where they knew they should find Irish tramps, merely 
 to fight and drive them out of the union. Then the most dreadful 
 battles would ensue. In the depth of the night Phil and his crew 
 would rise silently from their beds. Armed with sticks, they would 
 set upon the unoffending Irish, belabouring them cruelly. It was 
 useless to shout for help ; no master would have dared to interfere 
 during such engagements. The only hope was to strike in return. 
 
V 
 
 (fS^A 
 
 %& 
 
 % 
 
 :n> 
 
 w/ 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 311 
 
 Occasionally the band got the worst of the encounter — and serve them 
 right. Another infamous practice of these young ruffians was to 
 seize upon a sleeping man, and, whilst some held him, others rifled 
 him of any money he might, before entering, have secreted about 
 his clothing. There was no redress for the sufferer, for at the 
 union-gate he had confessed himself a pauper without a penny in 
 the world. Sometimes these banditti would prowl about in the 
 neighbourhood of a workhouse, waiting for the Irish tramps to 
 come up. The unsuspecting wanderer, if he had any money in his 
 possession, would usually seek for some hidden corner in which 
 to stow away for the night what he had earned during the day. 
 Under waterspouts, in the hedge-bank, or in the hollows between 
 bricks, the few shillings would be carefully deposited, to be soon taken 
 out again by the rogues who were upon the w r atch. 
 
 If these young vagabonds could secure a ward to themselves, the 
 night passed, merrily, and very little sleep did the crew indulge in. 
 Sometimes stories would be told of the doings of famous robbers, or 
 the contents of a novel would be condensed into a twenty minutes' 
 , tale. If any one was called upon for a yarn, he was forced by the 
 laws of the band to invent one, if he could not remember any he 
 had read. The set style of beginning these narratives was in these 
 words : " Once upon a time, mates, but not in your time or in my 
 time, but in the time gone by, when it was a good time," &c. &c. 
 If they grew tired of stories, they would sing or give recitations. 
 ■ The Drunkard's Soliloquy" was an especial favourite. There was 
 a great deal of what actors call " business" in it. It began in this 
 way : " "Well, here I am, just come out of the public — public (hiccup) 
 house ; I've only drunk fourteen glasses of brandy- and-water 
 (staggers about), and I'm as drunk as a p-p-parson ! (hiccup). 
 Talking of the parson, reminds me of the devil, and talking of the devil, 
 reminds me of my wife (hiccup)," &c. &c. The songs Phil was espe- 
 cially celebrated for were " The Slave's Dream," " O what a sight for 
 a mother," and " Dearest, touch the castanet." The only subject 
 Billy Fortune could talk about was penny theatres. He was a constant 
 frequenter of gaffs, and had a peculiar knowledge of the performers 
 at them, being able to tell when those gentlemen made their first 
 appearance, and in what "line" they were famous. "Any of you 
 chaps seen Madame Mossi in her tablow vyevant ? Ain't she first- 
 rate as Wenus attended by the syrins — stunning !" Or he would 
 inform the company that Jimmy Byson, "the original monkey," 
 was to be at Oxford in three weeks' time, and proposed directing 
 their steps in that direction to have the pleasure of witnessing his 
 curious antics. " To see him go up a pole is a regular knock-me- 
 down !" he would add. 
 
 In this manner did Phil allow his youth to pass away. He grew 
 to be a man, and the only advantages age brought him were greater 
 strength of body, and greater cunning of brain. He could imagine 
 bolder schemes than in his boyhood, and his limbs w r ere strong enough 
 to face any danger his reckless life might entail. Some fifty tramps 
 were ready to sing his praises and call him Captain, but to the re- 
 mainder of the world he was a rogue and a vagabond. 
 
312 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BERTHA BEHAVES LIKE A WOMAN. 
 
 Kikd-heaeted Mrs. Hazlewood nearly fainted on the cocoa-nut 
 fibre doormat when the ghost of Captain Crosier first met her gaze. 
 She screamed out for Bertha, and then exclaimed, " Good Heavens ! 
 what has happened ?" The captain, who had arranged in his own mind 
 the story he was to tell, and the way in which he was to act, clutched 
 for support at the old lady's shoulder, and in a weak voice murmured 
 " Let me sit down .... parlours .... sofa." 
 
 Both the women stood over him in the greatest anxiety, as with 
 closed eyes he lay upon the couch and panted. He heard Bertha 
 sob, and, as if with an effort that cost him much agony, turned his head 
 towards her, took her hand, and murmured, "Do not weep . . . 
 I shall . . . soon . . . be . . . well." Presently he appeared to 
 recover his strength, for he was — though with difficulty — able to 
 express a wish to retire to bed. Away flew Mrs. Hazlewood to pre- 
 pare her dear, good friend's four-poster. Alone with Bertha, he again 
 began to pant, and had the satisfaction of once more hearing her sob. 
 It was very pathetic to see this poor invalid, now gasping like a trout 
 on the grass, now moving his lips about feverishly, and begging for 
 water. He was put to bed, and the bell- pull fastened to a chair by 
 his side, that he might ring the moment he required anything. 
 
 He recovered mightily when left alone ; indeed, he began, for the 
 hundredth time, to curse the chemist who sold him the lozenges. 
 He remained in bed for about an hour, staring at every piece of fur- 
 niture in the room, wondering where the deuce the wash-hand stand 
 was picked up, or whose portrait it was hanging over the drawers. 
 About ten o'clock, the Hazlewoods heard the bell tinkle, and up- 
 stairs they raced to wait on the patient. He had risen — very im- 
 prudently they said — and, wrapped in an elegant dressing-gown, 
 with his shirt-collar a la Byron, was seated in a roomy arm-chair 
 before the fire. " He was better, yes . . . much . . . better," he 
 said, in a voice that sounded as if he was worse, much worse. He 
 was implored to relate the cause of his indisposition, that was, if he 
 had strength enough to do so. In a few words he told his story : 
 
 " Returning home from a friend's house," so he spoke, " he had the 
 misfortune to hire a drunken cabman. The fellow drove, he thought, 
 very recklessly. Just as the vehicle was turning the corner of Oxford- 
 street, it came in contact with a heavy market-cart, and he was pitched 
 out of the Hansom on to the horse's back." Now his voice became 
 fainter, as he added, "The animal kicked me in the side," he panted 
 for a moment and looked wildly, but presently added, when the women 
 had finished hiding their faces in their aprons, and drawing in their 
 breath with horror, " thank God, no . . . bones . . . were broken 
 . . . but . . . the internal injuries . . . they tell me . . . are . . . 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 313 
 
 se . . . vere." Then he fell back in the chair exhausted. He was 
 hypocrite enough to ask Bertha to feel the place on his ribs where the 
 cruel steed had struck him with its iron hoof, and, with fear and 
 trembling, she allowed her hand to be guided to the wound.. She de- 
 clared it was dreadfully swollen, and felt as if there was a deep hole. 
 
 " I thought I would come here," said the captain, with a languid 
 air, as he by-and-by drank some tea, and tried to eat some dry toast. 
 " I have no right to inflict you with my sufferings and make nurses 
 of you, but I am a poor lonely bachelor, Mrs. Hazlewood, and I thought 
 you would in mercy not refuse to assist my recovery." 
 
 The mother replied, " Oh ! sir, we are grateful you should think 
 us worthy of such a task ;" and the daughter, though she did not 
 speak, looked as if she would willingly have taken all his sufferings 
 from him, and endured them herself, if it had been possible. 
 
 The next day, and the next, the captain grew better. The pretty 
 Bertha waited on him, bringing him his breakfast, his lunch, his 
 dinner, or anything he required. He was ringing the bell for her 
 every ten minutes. The mother was very much pleased to remark 
 the great modesty of his behaviour. He locked his bedroom door 
 as regularly as if he had been afraid of thieves. If, before he 
 rose, he required anything, he had it set down outside the door, 
 and presently a white hand, with a gold signet-ring on the third 
 finger, would issue from the slight opening of the door, and take 
 in the thing asked for. If he had been a young girl of sixteen he 
 could not have been more modest and decorous. 
 
 When he had been in the house a couple of days, he got to learn 
 the hours at which Mrs. Hazlewood usually went out on her house- 
 hold errands. If she had no occasion to leave the house, he was 
 clever enough to find one. Either he required jellies, which he in- 
 sisted should be fetched from Gmnter's, or he would touch no fish 
 but that vended by Groves, of Bond-street. A cab was ordered to 
 carry the mother on her errand, and Bertha was asked to keep the 
 sick man company until she returned. 
 
 He saw plainly enough the little girl was in love with him. He 
 caught her looking at him with the tenderest expression in her 
 large eyes. She answered his bell when he rang as rapidly as if 
 she slept on the mat outside. The first time he slept in his rooms 
 she had, in the middle of the night, fancied she heard him moan- 
 ing, and, slipping on her dress, had descended to assure herself whe- 
 ther the sound was fancied or real. He never knew that — but 
 we do. 
 
 Ask yourselves whether it was not natural she should adore this 
 man. You have been shown all the falsity and trickery of this 
 captain's character and behaviour. She believed that everything he 
 said or did was true and honest. He, a gentleman in the army, 
 with noble friends, rich and generous as the prince of a fairy tale, 
 she, a poor sewing-girl, with a pauper mother ! Bemember, too, 
 that this Crosier, in all he did, never transgressed any one of the rules 
 laid down by society, but made love to her as respectfully as if she 
 had been a little Bussell-square miss. The companions pointed out 
 to her as fitting her station in life were the servants of the house, 
 yet she had received education, and was by nature gifted enough to 
 
314 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 feel she was their superior. She preferred the well-expressed con- 
 versation of one who was called a gentleman to the tittle-tattle of a 
 kitchen, and felt grateful he should consider her worthy of his notice. 
 
 They had some curious conversation together, whenever the mother 
 was despatched on these jelly and fish errands. The captain was very 
 desirous of forcing from Bertha a confession that she loved him. 
 
 "You have a dear, good heart, Bertha," he said, on one occasion, 
 in a voice still weak from the effects of his severe kicking. " I shall 
 never forget your sweet look of pity on the day when I came here so 
 ill. You have cured me now, pretty Bertha. I shall soon be able to 
 leave you, and cease to trouble you." 
 
 " You should not call it trouble, captain," was the inevitable answer. 
 
 "Dear, good girl! Bless you for those sweet words!" he con- 
 tinued. " I might have died without your care, Bertha. I shall 
 always think of you, Bertha. Do you know that, when I lay under 
 that plunging horse, and saw his iron hoofs gleam in the moonlight, I 
 thought of you. Why did I not think of my father or my sister ? 
 I ought to have done so. Why did I think of you, sweet Bertha ?" 
 
 Of course she could not in decency inform him. 
 
 He took her hand, and she did not resist. 
 
 " Bertha, tell me !" he said, speaking excitedly, " is it because I 
 love you ? You know how I have always admired you — how for your 
 dear sake I have braved insults and denials. Yes, I do love you 
 dearly — more dearly than I dare to tell you, for it passes belief, and 
 you might refuse me yours." 
 
 At this moment the mother returned, and the captain, cursing his 
 luck that he had not begun the conversation sooner, was obliged to 
 release his trembling angel. 
 
 Once, to ensure a lengthy absence, Crosier despatched the mother 
 to his apartments in Harley-street to fetch something he didn't want, 
 and neglected to give the old lady the money for a cab. He knew 
 she would never ask for it. 
 
 As soon as he was alone, he requested the pleasure of Miss Bertha's 
 society to cheer his solitude, and, before a quarter of an hour had 
 passed, was making love more desperately than ever. He was de- 
 termined that this time she should make a confession one way or the 
 other. 
 
 Ever since the world was an educated world, the same method, 
 manner, and almost phrases of love have been employed. They seem 
 to succeed so well, that swains do not think it worth while inventing 
 fresh ones. The captain once more told Bertha he worshipped 
 her, and, by repeating the same sentiment in fifty different ways, im- 
 pressed her with a belief that each declaration was a new one. She 
 sat still and listened, staring at the fire. He saw the reflection of the 
 flickering flame in her eyes. Her hand was raised to her lips as if 
 she was in deep thought. Never had she looked prettier. The heat 
 of the coals had flushed her cheeks, and the captain's declaration had 
 turned every other portion of her countenance to an ashy whiteness 
 
 As she did not willingly answer him, he determined to wrench a 
 reply from her somehow or other. He became silent for a few 
 seconds, and then letting go her hand, placed his own against his 
 bosom as if in pain. For a few minutes he was plunged in thought, 
 

 PAVED WITH GOLD. 315 
 
 frowning and breathing loudly down his nose. "When at last he did 
 speak, it was in a timid, hesitating voice, as if his life depended on 
 the reply. " Bertha ! tell me truly, do not deceive me — that would 
 be too cruel ! — Do you love another ?" She turned round and stared 
 at him with her big eyes, but said nothing. "You do," he cried, 
 starting forward. " Now I can understand why you reject me. Why 
 have you trifled with me." As if exhausted, he fell back in his chair 
 and panted. He was perfectly well aware the poor girl knew no one, 
 and cared for no one, but himself. Excepting the portrait of George 
 III. in the drawing-room, she never saw anything resembling a man 
 from one week's end to another. 
 
 She had taken her eyes from the fire and was looking at him. He 
 didn't move. Eor nearly a quarter of an hour he never stirred a 
 muscle, and he felt a cramp was coming on. A hand was placed on 
 his shoulder. It was a mute confession, the only one she dared to 
 make. He started round, and, with a smile of consummate beatitude, 
 cried, as he seized her head between his palms, " Then you do love 
 me ! Oh ! let me hear those words. Whisper them to me, dearest." 
 Instead of speaking, the tears came welling up to her eyes. " Now," 
 he cried, " I am ready to die for you ! Now, I am certain of happi- 
 ness. Tell me, dear one, have you loved me long, and how have I 
 gained your affection ?" He wanted to learn all the particulars of 
 the case as minutely as a physician. 
 
 It was evening, and the room was in half obscurity, the flickering 
 of the coal fire only lighting up, every now and then, the objects 
 around. Mothers of families take this advice, never leave your 
 daughters alone with captains in the dusk of evening. The myste- 
 rious dimness gives an air of privacy, and many a confession of love 
 has been made under its dreamy influence which the lips would have 
 been ashamed to utter if a couple of candles had been burning on 
 the table. A lamp in a bedroom will frighten away a thief. A gas- 
 light is said to be worth three policemen. There are other thieves 
 besides those who break into houses, and they are equally afraid of 
 being viewed distinctly. The flame of the smallest taper would 
 have been sufficient to prevent Bertha from answering as she did, with 
 downcast eyes and a trembling of the lips, " Yes, I do love you, I 
 have for a long time. I was afraid you knew it, and that made me 
 very unhappy. I don't know why, but I was ashamed of — liking 
 you." She spoke so much because she was crying. A very little 
 would have brought on a fit of hysterics. 
 
 Instead of falling into an ecstasy of rapture, the captain began 
 calmly to contemplate his happiness. The confession that she had 
 for a long time loved him, annoyed him considerably. He considered 
 he had been wasting a vast deal of money and many valuable weeks. 
 " What a timid fool I am," he thought. " I am so disgustingly deli- 
 cate. If I had only had sense enough to make these inquiries before, 
 what trouble and expense I might have saved myself." 
 
 After Bertha had confessed her love for him, he saw no harm in 
 indulging in lovers' ways. He placed his arm round her waist and 
 often kissed her temples or smoothed her hair. They did not talk 
 much. A half grunt of delight frequently came from the captain, 
 but the girl remained motionless and thoughtful. Perhaps she already 
 
316 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 regretted she had spoken so much. She had parted with her liberty, 
 and placed a master over herself; even now the new master was 
 taking advantage of his authority, indulging himself in affectionate 
 caresses. Two hours previously he was as respectful as a linen- 
 draper ; now he was as saucy as a Jack in office. 
 
 At the end of the first week the captain, instead of leaving Camber- 
 well, inquired — with a pleasing humility— of Mrs. Hazlewood whether 
 he might be permitted to lengthen his* stay to a fortnight. His side, 
 he complained, was still painful, especially when he coughed. " He 
 felt," he said, " as if living at his own home, and the tranquil hap- 
 piness did him more good than all the medicine in the world." How 
 different was his behaviour to Bertha to what it had been on his 
 first coming. He became epithetic and called her " his life," his 
 "beauty," and many other sweet endearing terms. Frequently he 
 pressed her against his bosom, more particularly when she held the 
 breakfast-tray in her hands and could not resist. 
 
 Towards the mother he adopted a severely moral deportment. 
 " She is always bothering me with her company, poor soul !" he 
 silently complained, and, to drive her off, he sermonised to his 
 utmost during her visits. He usually chose the horrors of intem- 
 perance as his theme, that being the subject he was best acquainted 
 with. Sometimes he would say to her, " When will the English be a 
 sober nation, Mrs. Hazlewood ? I have often been struck by a pecu- 
 liar expression used by the vulgar ; they call it — I think — ' treating 
 one another to drink.' Now, how much more appropriate would it 
 be if they said ill-treating one another to drink, since the morrow's 
 headache, the burning brow, the hard, dry tongue, the deranged 
 stomach deserve this expression." The old lady — who was seriously 
 inclined — felt as if she could listen to him by the hour. He shared 
 with the workhouse chaplain her humble admiration. At another 
 time he would say, " Drink, Mrs. Hazlewood, is a cruelty imposed 
 on us by custom. If I were to raise a pistol to my friend's head and 
 blow away his brains, society w r ould call me a heartless murderer, 
 but if I raise a brimming glass to his lips and blow away his brains 
 with the fumes of alcohol, society smiles and terms me a loving com- 
 panion. Yet the insensibility of drunkenness is to me as terrible as 
 the stillness of death." Little did the admiring old lady imagine that 
 this preacher had brought to her house, concealed in his portmanteau, 
 four bottles of overproof brandy w T hich were rapidly being emptied of 
 their contents. 
 
 In his love-makings with Bertha he was extremely cautious in 
 avoiding all reference to marriage. He fancied that if he did not 
 mention the fact of making her his wife he should not be bound in 
 honour to wed her. The only time he ventured on this subject was 
 done solely to sound her notions on the subject, and, if possible, to 
 convince her that the ceremony at the altar was an unphilosophical 
 and useless rite. Like other innocent girls, Bertha believed that 
 love and the church were synonymous. 
 
 Eor fear she might relate to her mother the incidents of their love 
 scenes, he bound her over to silence by solemn promises and threats 
 of the serious injury that would befal him if his family should hear of 
 his affection for one so lowly conditioned as herself. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 317 
 
 "This absurd — this foolish world!" he cried, in disgust, "it in- 
 sists that we should do not as we like, but as it chooses. Now what 
 can be more absurd than marriage ? A man loves a woman so fondly 
 that he finds he cannot even exist out of her presence. To have 
 her near him is his dearest wish. She must be by his side within 
 reach of his hand, as it were. Is it natural that a man in such a 
 state of feeling would ever dream of quitting this woman ? No ; it 
 would be death. I should die if you, dear Bertha, were taken from 
 me. But what says the stupid world ? You must go to church, a 
 priest must read from a certain book certain passages to which you 
 are too excited to pay attention. You must ride home in a carriage, 
 and eat a peculiar kind of cake, and then you may live together as 
 man and wife. Absurd ! absurd !" 
 
 "Whilst he was laughing derisively, the girl was wondering why he 
 should think the ceremony so ridiculous. She had always considered 
 it as the most solemn event in a maiden's life. She felt particularly 
 hurt to hear the cake abused. 
 
 " How much more honourable," continued the captain, " is that 
 union which, without the fetters of the law, remains constant." 
 
 Because he was looking at her, she replied that it was so ; but she 
 added, " I have been told they sometimes leave one another, and then 
 the poor woman There was one my mother knew who was de- 
 serted — her character was lost — and he was a gentleman's son and 
 very well off." 
 
 The conversation ended. For fear she might imagine he enter- 
 tained any such designs against her, he ceased talking, and began to 
 fondle her, patting her hands and praising her eyes — asking her to 
 give them to him to be made into shirt studs. 
 
 " She's not quite ready yet," thought the captain, as in the even- 
 ing he sat before the fire plotting how he was to carry off the girl. 
 " Not quite ready, but rapidly coming round. I could no more get 
 her to cut away just now than if she was of the blood royal. I must 
 give her time, and she'll come round. Never whip a jibbing horse — 
 you may break your whip to atoms, and yet not advance a step. 
 Patience, patience, that's the virtue for me !" 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 THE TEAVELLING CIRCUS. 
 
 The town of Elbury is a quiet place, with some two thousand in- 
 habitants, and it struck Monsieur Le Cobbe, the celebrated equestrian 
 performer, and the boldest somersault thrower in the world, that it 
 would be worth his while to pitch his tent in the neighbourhood for 
 one night only. He waited upon Sir Frederick Wigwam to seek 
 his patronage. He obtained an indirect promise from Dr. Pinnock, 
 of Milton House Academy, that his forty scholars would be present, 
 and altogether the speculation looked, as Monsieur Le Cobbe said, 
 "healthy." 
 
 The bills appeared. Long blue ones at the pastrycook's ; long pink 
 
318 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 ones at the circulating library. Labouring men were to be admitted 
 at half the price demanded of the gentry. The inhabitants of Elbury 
 became excited, and the butchers', the bakers', and the doctors' boys 
 began to practise standing on th«ir heads. 
 
 To increase the enthusiasm, Monsieur Le Cobbe and his talented 
 troupe entered Elbury in grand procession. The gentlemen riders, 
 with their thick necks exposed, and their long hair tucked behind 
 their ears, wore romantic costumes, while the lady riders looked lovely 
 in their velvet habits and gold lace. The band in the ornamented car 
 played with such spirit that the spotted and cream-coloured steeds 
 became inspired, and danced like Christians. Not the least wonder- 
 ful part of the sight was the dexterity with which Monsieur Le Cobbe 
 drove ten-in-hand. He turned the corner of the market-place as 
 easily as if he had been pushing a wheelbarrow. 
 
 Orders had long since been given to Mr. Barton, the carpenter, to 
 have so many sacks of sawdust ready by a certain day. Eour cart- 
 loads of fine garden-mould had been bespoken at Daddy's nursery- 
 ground. The erecting of the handsome and commodious tent at- 
 tracted hundreds of lookers-on — indeed the beer-boy from the " Pink 
 Sow" was constantly running backwards and forwards with gallon- 
 cans of ale. In the course of the day, Sir Frederick "Wigwam and 
 the ladies honoured the stables of Monsieur Le Cobbe with a visit, 
 and expressed themselves much pleased with the beauty and condi- 
 tion of the numerous stud. 
 
 There was, that evening, such a rush that it was a mercy the 
 tent did not get turned over, or collapse like an umbrella. The 
 shilling places were packed in half an hour. The youngest child of 
 Mr. "Waters, the greengrocer, had to be sent home to be washed, 
 having been rolled into a mud-heap, where it lay like a pigeon in a 
 pie, with only its little hands showing above the crust. 
 
 "What business Philip Merton had at Elbury does not signify just 
 now. Perhaps it is better not to inquire too closely into the 
 matter. There he was, and well dressed too. How he paid for, or 
 otherwise obtained, these excellent clothes, we had rather not be 
 forced to explain. 
 
 The inside of the tent was worthy of being painted in a picture. 
 The oil-lamps cast a mellow light, and the striped bunting decora- 
 tions were draped with exceeding taste. There was a mixed smell of 
 horses, sawdust, oil, and oranges, which was far from unpleasant. 
 In the centre of the tent was the ring, resembling an enormous snuiF- 
 box filled with rappee, and in a stand — raised like a railway cistern — 
 over the door at which the horses would enter, were placed the band. 
 
 As soon as the noble patron had arrived, the performances com- 
 menced. Eirst, there was an equestrian drama, entitled, " The Pair 
 Maid of Sahara, or the Arab Steed and the Lover's Vow." 
 
 Seated next to Philip was a young lady — evidently under the pro- 
 tection of her maid-servant, a savage, elderly female, who, whenever 
 she caught the youth peeping at her mistress, looked murder, and 
 clenched the handle of her big basket tightly as if it were a stick. 
 But the face was so pretty that all the servants in the world could not 
 force PhiPs eyes away from it. A round forehead, on which a little 
 globe of light was focussed just above the temple, of such whiteness 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 319 
 
 that pearl powder would have soiled it. The lashes to the eyes were 
 so long that they sheltered them like a screen, and, casting a shadow, 
 gave a velvet softness to the pupils. The strings to her bonnet 
 tightened when she laughed, for she had the smallest taste in life of a 
 double chin, which plumped out on such occasions and looked remark- 
 ably lovely. 
 
 She listened very attentively to the drama, apparently believing 
 every word of it to be true. The hero always came in on horseback, 
 and never once was he permitted to mount or dismount his steed 
 without slow music. He often addressed the animal, calling it " his 
 beautiful bright-eyed charger." He would tell the passive-looking 
 cream, " that right well had it carried him on its lightning feet amid 
 the battle fray." These praises caused the young lady next Phil to 
 exclaim, over and over again, " Pretty creature !" She trembled in 
 horror when the villain of the drama, making his horse prance, roared 
 out, " If she reject me, my revenge shall, indeed, be fearfool and ter- 
 reebel." How she rejoiced when the bold lover, raising himself in 
 the stirrups, shouted, " If we meet, his blood be upon his own sohole." 
 Phil, who was watching her, felt quite jealous of the actor who played 
 the part. There was no scenery to this piece, which was performed 
 in the circus, but it gave great satisfaction, and the horses and actors 
 went out amid immense applause. 
 
 During the scenes in the circle, Phil gazed so intently at the young 
 lady that the maid-servant once proposed to change places with her 
 mistress. The entrance of Madlle. Yanille, in that graceful scene 
 d'equitation called the " Mower- Girl of Florence," saved Phil from 
 this misfortune. Every eye in the circus followed the flower-girl as 
 she moved round the ring. It was a prettily-conceived scene. First 
 she had a spade handed her, and began to dig at the saddle as 
 if it were a garden bed. Then a groom ran after her, and exchanged 
 the spade for a rake, with which she proceeded to level the imaginary 
 earth about the saddle. Every time the ring-master smacked his long 
 whip, the fair one of Elbury trembled lest the flower-girl of Florence 
 should tumble to the real soil. The saddle with the embroidered 
 covering was as broad as a tea-tray, but what is that when a jolting 
 horse is underneath ? Towards the close of this graceful performance, 
 when "Hi, hi!" was shouted to make the horse gallop faster and 
 faster, when the rider was being carried round at a speed that nearly 
 tore away her satin skirts, the velvet-eyed beauty seemed in great fear 
 lest the Florentine damsel should break her neck on English ground. 
 There was a capital clown, who first did his gymnastic exercises, 
 and then made the audience shout at his wit. 
 
 "How do you do, sir?" asked the ring-master. "Very poorly, 
 thank you, sir," answered the clown, forcing down the corners of his 
 mouth. " How is that, sir ?" — " Why I've had the hen-flew-in-at-the- 
 window, sir." " What is that, sir?" — "It's a kind of severe guitar, 
 with head-rakes and roomy attics, sir." " You mean the influenza, 
 with a catarrh, head-aches, and rheumatics, I suppose, sir ?" — " Tes, 
 sir ; but I take my medicine regular — a wine-glass of mustard poultice 
 three times a day, and my feet in cough-mixture before going to bed." 
 When the pretty young lady laughed at this, Phil laughed too, and 
 then their eyes met. They then laughed more violently than before. 
 
320 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 There were some acrobats in spangled tights, who glittered like 
 fresh herrings. These men had legs flexible as riding- whips, and 
 lifted each other in every possible manner ; there was a yonng lady 
 who executed the rapid and brilliant act of leaping over banners 
 and through paper hoops ; there was another maiden (with weak 
 knees that bent each time the horse moved), who performed most 
 elegantly with a scarf. Whenever the audience applauded, Phil and 
 the young lady looked at each other, as though comparing notes, 
 and exchanging opinions about the merit of the entertainment. 
 
 The eccentricities cf the clown amused the old maid-servant, and 
 she forgot to watch her young mistress. 
 
 Mr. Merryman told the ring-master that provisions were very dear. 
 — " Sorry to hear it, sir," answered the gentleman. " Yes, sir," con- 
 tinued the clown, " milk has gone up so high, the cream can't get to 
 the top of it." "When Mr. Merryman was asked if he was afraid of a 
 horse, he said, " No, it was himself he was afraid of." There seemed 
 no end to his humour. He remarked that one of the steeds was a 
 thorough-bred and a penny loaf a top of that. He even invited the 
 ring-master to come and spend a week at his house. " I shall be de- 
 lighted, Mr. Merryman," answered that gentleman. " Where do you 
 live, sir?" — "In the same place, sir, before I removed to where I 
 used to live now." " That's a rather strange address, sir!" — "I've 
 gone up and down on the other side facing." " I am not much 
 wiser, sir." — " You can't mistake the house, sir, because the door 
 opens just as you go in." Whilst everybody was roaring with delight, 
 Philip most impudently whispered in the young lady's ear, " He is 
 very good, don't you think so ?" and she, laughing, answered aloud, 
 " Oh, very amusing, indeed !" 
 
 Presently the ring-master advised Mr. Merryman not to walk 
 before him, adding, " I never follow fools ;" upon which the clown fell 
 into the rear, and, making a face, said, " I do." This gave Phil an 
 excuse for again speaking to the young lady. 
 
 " Have you never been to a circus before ?" he asked. 
 
 She answered so loudly that the maid-servant heard her, " No ; 
 this is the first time I ever saw anything of the kind ;" and then fell 
 to laughing again. 
 
 But, alas ! for Phil, all further chance of renewing the conversation 
 was put an end to by the maid-servant, who, crimson with indigna- 
 tion, threw herself between him and the fair one. 
 
 "Por shame, Miss Lucy!" cried the faithful domestic, "to talk 
 with a strange gentleman. Well, I never did before !" 
 
 When he heard that her name was Lucy, Phil opened his eyes with 
 delight. He did nothing but repeat the name to himself during the 
 remainder of the performance. It was in vain he endeavoured 
 to catch another glance at the pretty face — the eye of the servant 
 maid was watching him with threatening activity. 
 
 At last the audience rose to depart, and Phil, although the do- 
 mestic did all she could to get rid of him, followed closely at the 
 heels of the beauty. He had resolved to find out where she lived, 
 though, as he said to himself, "It's only waste of time. They 
 wouldn't let a chap like me marry her." 
 
">/ 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 321 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN IS GUILTY OF WHAT HE CONSIDERS A GREAT WASTE OF MONEY. 
 
 Out of respect to its age, we were about to make use of an old 
 saying, but most fortunately we are, without departing from the 
 truth, enabled to vary it a little. The course of Captain Crosier's 
 base love did not run smooth. It was full of hard, flinty obstructions, 
 that made it foam and bubble ; it had to rush by difficult points, and 
 overcome a variety of disagreeable stoppages. This course was a 
 muddy stream, such as a lover would prefer drinking, in a poetic 
 manner, with his eyes. 
 
 He might just as well have given up his rooms in Harley-street for 
 the use he made of them. From one week's end to another he never 
 showed his face there ; in fact, more than once, Mrs. Bullanty (he 
 owed her, as she said, " a pretty penny") became seriously alarmed at 
 the prolonged absence of her first-floor lodger, and had even gone to 
 the extreme length of using her duplicate keys, to see'if the effects 
 in the locked-up draw r ers w r ere equal to the value of her debt. The 
 vast amount of time left on Mr. Teddy Cutler's hands, enabled him 
 to add to his varied accomplishments by learning several new songs 
 from "The Little "Warbler." He could also make his appointments 
 for the evening with greater certainty of not breaking them. Had 
 he dared to grow a moustache, his worldly happiness would have been 
 complete. 
 
 They lived well and looked well at Camberwell. The captain be- 
 came so curiously domesticated, that it almost seemed like a wager 
 between himself and the cat, as to which of them should remain in- 
 doors for the greater length of time. The only journey of any con- 
 sequence that he undertook was to the chambers of Mr. Edward 
 Dancer, in Holborn, to request him to let some little matter or other 
 stand over for a few weeks. When he returned, he told Bertha it 
 seemed to him as if he had been absent for hours. He also made this 
 journey an excuse for embracing his beloved as fondly as if he had 
 been to India and back. 
 
 The gallant captain, in the full bloom of his happiness, felt a worm 
 in the bud gnawing at the tenderest leaves of his love. He was dis- 
 appointed with himself. He had come, he had seen, but, instead of his 
 conquering, there had been a very hard battle for the victory. The 
 other chaps — his dashing friends — would cut him if they knew what 
 a mess he had made of the business. "With them, carrying off a girl 
 was either the affair of a week or a fortnight, or she might stop where 
 she was. Charley Sutton had bolted with a baker's daughter from 
 Cheltenham before he had wasted ten pounds in the courtship. Ered 
 Tattenham could tell twenty highly amusing stories of his loves (one 
 
322 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 was with a lawyer's wife), and in no instance had he devoted more 
 than two months to even the most troublesome case. The captain 
 felt the awkwardness of his position. Even after he carried off 
 ' Bertha, he scarcely knew what he should do with her. It was his dream 
 to give pleasant little dinners at her villa in St. John's "Wood. He 
 wanted to make the fellows envious of his good fortune. But then, 
 with these delicious morsels of swagger, the truth would peep out 
 that it had taken him ages of the most assiduous attention to capti- 
 vate a servant-girl. He felt ashamed of himself, and would often 
 examine his countenance in the chimney-glass to try and discover 
 some reason for the tardiness of the result. 
 
 If we were called upon to give any explanation of the captain's 
 fear of the world, and a dread of the exposure, which might follow his 
 dilatory method of proceeding, we should impute it to an excessive 
 adventure. This gentleman was, even then, in great trepidation lest 
 any rumour of what he was plotting should reach the ears of certain 
 parties at Swanborough. He more particularly dreaded the remarks 
 his mother might make on such a theme. She was very much op- 
 posed to these amiable indiscretions. Even if his father, who was an 
 easy-going man upon all human frailties but those of robbery and 
 dishonouring a bill, were to remark that young men would be young 
 men, the strict mamma would most likely add something about it not 
 being necessary for them to be rogues as well. " That woman," 
 thought the captain, " is actually capable of insisting on a genuine 
 marriage." 
 
 The occurrences of daily life reported in our morning newspapers 
 had also a checking influence on the captain's boldness. He never 
 opened the Times without fear and trembling. His eye fell down 
 the columns with the rapidity of a stone. If he saw anything about 
 "Heartless Seduction by a Gentleman of Eortune," it brought on an 
 attack of frowning and biting the lips. He was pained to see 
 that, in such reported cases, it was usually the mother of the 
 girl who applied to the magistrate for advice under the distressing 
 circumstances. One of these reports would run thus : " A respectably- 
 dressed female, who appeared greatly excited, entered the court 
 as it was about to rise, and appealed, &c, &c." Then the bold 
 captain would mutter to himself, " D — n that Mother Hazlewood ! 
 that's exactly the little game she'd be after. The woman would cry 
 her eyes out to make a case of it." Sometimes the report was slightly 
 varied : " A woman who was humbly but cleanly attired, and who, 
 
 though overcome by her feelings, refused to give her name " 
 
 This he could read with a more full breath. The refusal to give her 
 name had great hope in it. "With his eyes slantways through in- 
 tensity of thought, he would wonder to himself " whether the old 
 woman would have decency enough to keep her daughter's shame 
 secret." But by the way in which he would immediately afterwards 
 term the poor old nurse " an old jade and a whining hypocrite," he 
 showed he had not much reliance on the family pride of the Hazle- 
 woods. " All done to extort money," was his usual criticism upon 
 such police cases. 
 
 Yet to see how pleasantly the days skipped, and hopped, and danced 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 323 
 
 along over the heads of these happy sojourners in Camberwell, who 
 could have suspected that even one bosom had a thorn in it ? As for 
 that house having a skeleton in it, the very mice and blackbeetles were 
 fat jovial Daniel Lamberts in their small way. The happy mother might 
 wake up in the morning dreaming either that Bertha's wedding-dress 
 had come home too late to be worn at the bridal, or that the hooks- 
 and-eyes wouldn't meet ; but even a pork-supper could not trouble 
 her with any misgivings more terrible. The intended bride seldom 
 dreamed at all. She usually fell to sleep towards three in the morn- 
 ing, being by that time thoroughly tired out with thinking about her 
 prince, her king, her demi-god — the lanky Merton, snoring in the 
 back parlour. If there was any uneasy conscience in this humble 
 residence, it was in the bosom of the wicked soldier. He might, per- 
 haps, kick about his blankets, and moan, as he writhed and plunged 
 his head into his pillow, perhaps, to find a comfortable place. But 
 even he had no night or morning visions. He usually dreamed with 
 the candle burning, and his eyes fixed on the curtain-rings, whilst he 
 smoked his last cigar in bed. He was troubled with dreadful imaginings 
 of the scene that would take place on the day when Bertha discovered 
 that she had been tricked into being his mistress. The perspiration 
 would make his forelocks cling, curling like feathers, to his forehead 
 as he sketched to himself the tragedy that might follow. 
 
 He fancied he saw her seated in a corner of the room — ajpose 
 plastique of bitter sorrow — her eyes fixed with a terrible stare that 
 looked through the walls in front, and far beyond the houses on the 
 other side of the way. He might call to her, and she wouldn't hear 
 him. If he touched her, she would turn round, like one just awakened, 
 and then, her chin crumpling up and her lip quivering with anguish, 
 gaze at him for a moment or two as if she had never before seen his 
 face. He would suppose himself standing over her, telling her to 
 bear her trial with fortitude and resignation, but, however eloquently 
 he besought her to " STever mind, love," or to " Be a woman, dear," 
 no answer was returned. He fancied he could hear the big tears fall 
 heavily on the little silk apron that fitted so jauntily round her slender 
 waist. If he went out, and returned ever so late at night, he would 
 find her — not in bed, but still in the same attitude. The servant 
 who followed him into the room would, as she sobbed, tell him how 
 her mistress had eaten nothing, and wouldn't have the candles, but 
 hid her head when lights were brought. Or maybe he would have to 
 listen to some miserable tale of how a cup of tea had been placed near 
 her lips, and she never even tasted it, and although some was, with 
 the spoon, forced into her mouth, she wouldn't swallow it, but allowed 
 it to trickle on to her bosom. Then the captain, with a sigh that blew 
 away the tobacco fumes curling and twirling, would utter, " It would 
 drive me mad, unless I bolted away and left her. Confound it ! that 
 tragic humbuggery wouldn't do with me, I can tell her." 
 
 The convulsive manner in which he unlocked a private drawer and 
 took out a bottle of brandy ; the peculiar shaking of the hand as he 
 poured out the stimulant ; and the reckless manner in which he drank 
 off the raw spirit, were proof sufficient that he was terribly disturbed 
 by these forewarning phantasms. Brandy ever stood his friend in 
 
 y2 
 
324j payed with gold. 
 
 these attacks. As the spirit worked, his pluck returned, and he would 
 fall asleep, calling himself an idiot and a weak fool, to suffer mere 
 mental hobgoblins to make a child of such a strong man as he was. 
 
 It had been the captain's wish that, during his sojourn at Cam- 
 berwell, he should remain hidden from the eyes of the world. In all 
 he did, he kept in view the chances of an action at law, and so con- 
 ducted himself as to favour his own case, should any proceedings 
 follow his flight with Bertha. The captain liked the mystery of the 
 business. It made him fancy himself a grand personage. He noticed 
 that he grew fat for want of exercise, but yet he remained in-doors. 
 How disgusted, then, he must have felt when, despite all his precau- 
 tions, he found himself one of the most talked about and closely 
 watched personages in the neighbourhood. He was enraged to find 
 that, whenever he ventured into the street, he became an object of 
 great interest to the neighbours. As he slammed the street door 
 after him, the servants at No. 6, next door, would either rush to the 
 windows, or race to the parlours and throw up the sash to stare after 
 him. At the butcher's, the young man and the young lady would 
 trip out into the street and gaze most impertinently. "Women in shops 
 left their customers to catch a peep, and the lovely apprentices in 
 the millinery establishment nearly upset the bonnets exposed for sale 
 in their hurry to see the " capting at No. 5." Several times Crosier 
 felt his face become hot and red as these rude people whispered to 
 each other, "That's him!" and even if the criticism was favourable, 
 and consisted of " He's a niceish sort of chap," or (as at the bonnet 
 shop) of, " He's just my style of feller," it did not compensate for the 
 indignation caused by his notoriety. He was not long in accounting 
 for these annoying impertinences. " Confound that Mother Hazle- 
 wood!" he growled — "confound the cunning old fox ! She wants to 
 force me into a marriage, does she ? She thinks that by spreading 
 about a report that I am courting Bertha, I shall be afraid to bolt with 
 her. We shall see, old gal. It's a fight between us." He even dis- 
 tilled a few drops of consolation from these troubles, assuring himself 
 that, for the future, he need feel no delicacy towards the poor mother, 
 for it was clear she knew what his intentions were, and was specu- 
 lating on his modesty and fear of public opinion. Now, the Lord 
 Mayor of London was not more innocent of these attacks upon the 
 parlour lodger than unfortunate Mrs. Hazlewood. Poor creature, 
 she was ready to sink to the ground when, one day, Mrs. Gosport 
 (where she dealt for the captain's sausages, bacon, &c.) wished her 
 joy on the excellent match her daughter had made. She tried to 
 deny it, but her nervousness so twisted her words, that her answer 
 more than admitted the fact, and even led the garrulous shopkeeper 
 to infer that the day had been fixed, and the cake ordered. 
 
 If the captain had calmly considered the matter, he would have soon 
 discovered why the neighbours busied themselves so unceremoniously 
 with his affairs. He had four or five times (but not until the new 
 dresses had been made up) taken Bertha for a walk. As she leaned 
 on his arm, his head was bent down to enable him to peep under her 
 bonnet. He walked with his body twisted on one side. He spoke 
 to her in rapid whispers, she having her eyes directed to the pavement, 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 325 
 
 and never raising them but to look up in his face and smile, when he 
 was lucky enough to utter something particularly delicious. Every- 
 body who saw this couple concluded they were in love. It is much 
 to the credit of everybody that they also concluded this couple were 
 to be married. 
 
 How lovely did the maiden appear in her silken robe, velvet 
 mantle, and dainty little bonnet ! The enamoured officer felt giddy 
 with rapture as with the gentlest pressure her arm rested on his. The 
 gown rustling with each step affected his nerves worse than the 
 scratching of slate-pencil. He watched her little feet bob in and out 
 from under the waving flounces until he felt giddy. He took her 
 small hand — made smaller by the tight kid glove — and said innumer- 
 able playful things as he laid it on his own big palm, that held it 
 easily as a dish does a chop. He called it " an ugly little paw," "a 
 stupid, useless little daddle," and, with a miraculous softness about 
 the eyes, would inquire " when that silly little hand was to be his ?" 
 How happy these walks made him. He watched the reflexion of 
 Bertha's figure in the shop-windows as they passed. He saw fellows 
 lean from their cabs, and turn round in their saddles to stare at his 
 little beauty. Some impudent scoundrels would walk in front of this 
 couple, looking round at every other step at the abashed angel. He 
 heard many of them cry out, " By Jove ! what a pretty girl !" And 
 although the rage of the bold captain was such that his fists rolled up 
 tight as hedgehogs, yet he was secretly pleased that the world should 
 so unmistakably approve of and envy his choice. On one occasion, 
 Charley Sutton passed the couple as they were sauntering down 
 Regent-street. Crosier shook his hand, and said, languidly, " How- 
 dedoo ?" a recognition which Sutton acknowledged by raising his eye- 
 glass, and staring his hardest at Bertha. He did not recognise the 
 little servant-girl. In a letter he sent Crosier a few days afterwards, 
 he asked him bluntly " where the devil he picked up the little blood 
 he was trotting out ?" adding, in his strange style, that she was " a 
 regular petrifier, very choice and becoming, and, indeed, he might 
 add, the slap-up perfect ginger." The captain smiled as he read 
 these lines. He felt as if he had been avenged. " They pretended 
 to laugh at me, the fools !" he cried ; " they dared to sneer at my 
 judgment, the donkeys ! Wait till they see her at the Opera, in a 
 low-necked dress, with a wreath round her head, and just one diamond 
 bracelet. The idiots, I'll pay them out !" 
 
 The captain, whenever he was alone with Bertha, never chatted 
 about any other subject than their approaching wedding. He would 
 ask her in the merriest manner not to weep at the altar, and entreat 
 her to give out the awful " Yes" in a bold, joyful tone. He even 
 made her rehearse to him her conduct before the priest, uttering in a 
 ludicrously gruff voice the question of " Will you, Bertha Hazlewood, 
 accept this horribly spooney wretch to be ?" &c. &c. ; and insist upon 
 her replying, "Yes, if you please," or " I should think so," or some 
 other absurdity, which made the supposed bride blush and titter. But 
 if ever the unfortunate Mrs. Hazlewood dared to indulge in any of 
 her maternal jokes upon the forthcoming event, her wit was speedily 
 checked by the son-in-law's frigid replies. If, as she left the 
 
326 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 room, she threw out hints about their preferring to be alone, and 
 bobbed her head, or looked sly, the captain would coldly answer that 
 he saw no reason why " Mrs. Hazlewood should deprive him of her 
 delightful company." Once the mamma caught Bertha reading the 
 advertisements of marriages in the Times, and playfully quizzed the 
 girl about the delight somebody would feel when a certain an- 
 nouncement appeared in the paper. The captain gave her such a 
 haughty look, that in her alarm the poor creature, who was making 
 tea, poured the whole of the fragrant decoction into the slop-basin, mis- 
 taking it for a cup. That evening he told Bertha he considered 
 her mother's jests " highly indecent and vulgar." Not that he was 
 really disgusted, but he was determined in no way to admit to any- 
 body, who could be brought forward as a witness, that he had either 
 by word or gesture given any promise of marriage. 
 
 " No, no, not a bit of it," "thought he; " not so green as that." 
 It cut Bertha to the heart to hear this king of hers speak in un- 
 generous, not to say rude, terms of her poor mother. He was con- 
 stantly reminding the girl that she was never to repeat to mamma any 
 of the fond conversations they held together. " It isn't her fault, poor 
 creature, but her ignorance and stupidity are most offensive to me," he 
 would give as his reason for desiring this secrecy, whilst the daugh- 
 ter stared at him in wonder, almost doubting her own ears. By-and- 
 by he would compensate the outraged child by informing her of the 
 provision he intended to make for the mother, fixing her maintenance 
 at sixty pounds per annum and a comfortable cottage. The captain, 
 seeing that no great opposition was offered to his plans upon Bertha, 
 grew bolder in his behaviour to the parent. He several times hinted 
 to his angel that it was high time she should give up any share 
 in the household management. He told her that the heat of the 
 kitchen fire was deleterious to the skin of the face, and requested her 
 to leave all the cooking to the old lady. He occasionally examined 
 her hands, saying he would not permit her to spoil their white- 
 ness by housemaid's work. He even lectured the damsel on her want 
 of " proper spirit" in rendering any assistance whatever to her 
 mother. " You should remember, dearest," he said, chiding her, 
 " that you will shortly bear my name, and this hand" (looking at it 
 closely) " should come to me unsullied by the most vulgar of labour. 
 If your mother had any sense or delicacy she would understand these 
 things, without my being forced to speak on what is, naturally, a 
 painful subject. Pray speak to Mrs. Hazlewood, and inform her of 
 my wishes." If he thought Bertha cruel enough to do this he 
 was mistaken. She would have preferred deposing "her king" to 
 deserting her doting, gentle parent. After hearing such unkind 
 words, she would wonder " why Merton was so altered of late," and 
 what her mother could have done to offend him; but she never 
 shocked the old nurse by repeating her lodger's injunctions. 
 
 Despair had the effect of brightening the captain's wits, giving to 
 his leaden intellect a silvery polish. He laid him down on the 
 sofa and invented fresh snares for the unprotected maiden. In the 
 present emergency he resolved on writing letters to himself, in a dis- 
 guised hand, which — telling her they were received from his home — 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 327 
 
 he would read to her, to prove that his parents were violently opposed 
 to their son's union with one so lowly born, and that the only chance 
 of his being united to her was by a clandestine marriage. One great 
 advantage of this forged-letter process was — according to this base 
 man — that he could puff and glorify both himself and the wor- 
 shipped one of his wickedness. 
 
 Each epistle took him many hours to perfect. The handwriting 
 was carefully disguised. The thick down-strokes of his ordinary cali- 
 graphy became thin ones in the counterfeit, t and I were decreased in 
 size, and every other letter of the alphabet artfully altered. On the 
 day the first of these deceits arrived per post, Crosier did all he 
 could to force Bertha into the trap. He first rang the bell for the 
 girl, and when she entered the room she found him sighing and 
 slapping his forehead with good hard knocks. "When asked if he was 
 ill, he rolled his eyes, and replied, "Yes, ill indeed — sick at heart!" 
 From bashfulness, most likely, Bertha, instead of putting any more 
 questions, merely stared with her large eyes stretched to twice their 
 size with sympathy. As this silence did not suit the captain's plot, 
 he murmured forth, " Why did they send that letter — that cruel 
 letter !" On this Bertha was forced to ask, "What letter?" The 
 question did not clear the mystery much, for Crosier replied, " That 
 cruel letter which has cut me to the very soul!" Then, fearing lest 
 she might leave the room, and so spoil the affair, he drew the girl 
 close to him, and, swearing no one should ever part them as long as 
 he had health and strength to resist, told her, with an effort, that he 
 had written to a dear friend, imploring him to sound his mother and 
 father on the subject of his marriage with one far beneath him in 
 fortune, birth, and position. " I told him, beloved one," added the 
 captain, gazing on the girl with a fond, sickly expression of eye, " that 
 you were an angel on earth ; that your beautiful face was a greater 
 treasure than mere worldly riches ; and I added that the noblest 
 born could not be more virtuous than my Bertha" (and, thought he 
 to himself, " That is painfully true at any rate"). To see him fall-to 
 again banging his poor forehead and casting up his eyeballs as if he 
 were trying to look backwards, prepared the girl for the most terrible 
 news, and made her tremble pitifully. As he read aloud extracts 
 from this dreadful letter, every word seemed to hit her. The cunning 
 fellow pretended to make mistakes whilst hunting after the particular 
 paragraph, and so managed to introduce several passages highly com- 
 plimentary to the maiden, and which, having the appearance of being 
 the confession of a secret correspondence, did not fail to move her 
 heart with excessive love and gratitude. 
 
 He standing by the window, she trembling by the door; the reading 
 commenced : " ' You do, indeed, speak in glowing terms,' mumbled 
 the captain, " ' of the lovely being who has inspired in you so honour- 
 able a love ' No, that is not the passage," he muttered, turning the 
 
 leaf ; " ah, here it is : * You describe her as the most fair and per- 
 fect of her sex, and your manly views on marriage ' No, that 
 
 isn't the place ; ah, here it is : ' Your mother, when I spoke to her 
 on the subject, became excessively indignant, and declared that, if a 
 son of hers dared to bring a kitchen-wench into the family, he must 
 
328 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 do so at his peril ; and, perhaps, when starving in a garret, he would 
 regret having sought in the arms of a serving-maid the love a mother 
 would henceforth refuse.' " Hot daring to turn his head to see what 
 the effect of this letter had been, the captain assumed a fit of rage, 
 and threw the epistle into the fire, calling it an inhuman and wicked 
 performance. He waited some time for Bertha either to faint or 
 burst into tears, but as she remained silent, he was forced to turn 
 towards her. Her face was crimson with indignant blushes, but she 
 seemed collected, and firm of limb. 
 
 "Your mother is right," she said, as he stared inquiringly at her; 
 " I am punished for my presumption." He tried to prevent her 
 leaving the room, but, although he upset two chairs, she was gone 
 before he could seize her arm. 
 
 The girl went up-stairs to weep, and he plumped into his arm-chair 
 to think. He admitted the attempt had failed. The wording was too 
 strong. He banged the fire-irons about with vexation. She would 
 be afraid to come near him. Of course, she didn't like such name- 
 calling — who would ? The only good thing was, he had burnt the 
 letter. That couldn't tell tales, or bear witness. "Always burn 
 your letters," murmured the captain. 
 
 He set to work writing another letter. It was a milder style of 
 authorship. On the second day it was delivered at Camberwell, and, 
 as Crosier had not seen Bertha for two days, he sent to her, request- 
 ing an interview. She came, but so pale in face, and so dejected in 
 manner, that he was really shocked and pained. Her eyes were 
 crimson with weeping, and by the hurried manner in which the hair 
 was tucked behind her ears, he saw she had been thinking of 
 nothing but her sorrow. Being fond of stimulants, he insisted upon 
 her instantly taking a " restorative of sherry," and, though the glass 
 rattled against her teeth as she raised her trembling hand to her lips, 
 he begged that its contents should be swallowed, even if it choked 
 her. But what did her more good than his wine was the happy ex- 
 pression of his face. " We shall have no more saucy letters, dear 
 Bertha," he said, kneeling by her side, and as he wrote them himself 
 he was well enabled to make good the promise. " I warrant they 
 will be civil enough now. My little queen shall not be made to cry 
 for nothing. Every tear shall be aveuged with a shower." As she 
 tried to smile, he continued : " Cheer up, my pretty May-queen ! 
 laugh again, darling flower ! there is good news this time !" And 
 producing his forgery he opened it. " Bead this, dear, with your 
 own pretty eyes. See what Alfred writes me : ' If, as you say, you 
 cannot live without your beloved Bertha, take my advice and get 
 married privately. Your mother has already greatly changed her 
 tone. She loves you dearly, and would soon pardon any act you 
 might commit.' Do you hear that, dearest ? Yes, yes ! that is what 
 we will do. I will buy the license, and we will be married at once. 
 "When they see my sweet wife's pretty face, I am sure to be forgiven 
 for loving you, for they will all love you as fondly as I do." But 
 Bertha shook her head. She began to sob again, and, though he 
 wiped up the tears as they trickled down her cheeks, she w r ould not 
 be consoled. 
 
TAVED WITH GOLD. 329 
 
 "Whilst matters were at this crisis, a real letter arrived for Captain 
 Merton Crosier, whilst he was waiting for the post to bring him another 
 of his fictitious one. He had resolved to expedite matters by a line 
 or two from his mother herself, half-assenting to the match, and had 
 passed the day before in forging as well as he could that lady's hand- 
 writing. Anxiously was he looking out of the window to catch sight 
 of the ten o'clock postman, when to his astonishment he beheld Mr. 
 Edward Cutler, his man, hurrying at the top of his speed towards 
 ]No. 5. " Now, how the devil did that fellow discover my hiding- 
 place ?" thought the captain, ducking his head. On came the valet 
 with rapid strides. The master, through the wire blind, saw him 
 unhesitatingly ascend the steps, and heard him knock as rapidly and 
 violently as if a steam-gun were being exhibited. " That fellow is 
 sacked to-morrow !" vowed the master, boiling over with passion. 
 
 All his rage, all thoughts about his hiding-place, all his vows of 
 vengeance were forgotten when Mr. Cutler entered the parlour and 
 handed him two letters ; one with " Immediate" on the outside, and 
 the other with a deep black border round the envelope. After he 
 had opened the first he scarcely needed to break the seal of the 
 second — the black -edging told the news. In the one, he was be- 
 sought, if he wished to see his mother alive, to start instantly for 
 Swanborough. In the other, his father informed him, with stinging 
 coldness, that the mother had expired asking for her absent son. 
 Scarcely had he recovered from the terrible surprise of this news 
 than the postman delivered the letter he had forged in his dead 
 mother's handwriting. Without even opening it, to the astonish- 
 ment of Mr. Cutler, he flung the epistle into the fire. 
 
 "How long have those letters been delivered?" asked Crosier, but 
 in a mournful voice, as if all his manhood had left him. 
 
 " Pour days, sir," replied the man, frightened by the ghastly face 
 of the questioner. " I sought for you every where— in the Hay market 
 and at the clubs — for I knew Mr. Nathaniel's writing ; but you were 
 nowhere to be heard of. At last Miss Tommy thought you was here, 
 and " 
 
 " Go home and prepare my trunks. I must leave town instantly." 
 
 Standing in the hall, Mrs. Hazlewood heard this conversation. 
 She hurried off to tell Bertha that something dreadful had happened 
 to the captain. Shortly afterwards, when the bell rang, both these 
 women, as if they did not dare to be alone, entered the parlour toge- 
 ther. He had been weeping bitterly, and, although he had bathed his 
 i'ace in water to remove all traces of his grief, his eyes were swollen 
 and inflamed. Then did these women, sympathising with the trouble 
 of their dear friend, begin also to shed tears. He told them, as well 
 as he could speak, the terrible news he had received. His voice was 
 strangely altered, and had become hoarse and short-breathed. The 
 women were fearfully frightened, and stood close together, as if 
 they expected the sad tale was not half finished. 
 
 The mother, wiping her eyes on her apron, was despatched for a 
 cab. The daughter, left alone with Crosier, advanced to his side, and, 
 laying her hand on his arm, said, in a tone of great agony, " It was I 
 
330 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 who caused jour mother's death ! This marriage broke her heart ! 
 God forgive me ! I wish I had died in her stead !" 
 
 Whether it was that grief for his loss had crushed every other feel- 
 ing in his heart, or whether he had not courage to enter into the de- 
 tails of the deceit he had practised, most certain is it that he had the 
 cruelty to leave the house without making even an attempt to unde- 
 ceive the poor girl. She construed his silence into a tacit acknow r - 
 ledgment that her self-accusings were just. For days and nights 
 did she pine and mourn over the life she imagined she had destroyed. 
 She began to hate herself, and curse her pretty face for the evil it had 
 wrought. Her poor mother would miss her in the daytime, and hunt 
 through room after room, calling aloud for Bertha, to find her at last 
 huddled up in some corner, with her head resting upon her knees, 
 dreaming with open, straining eyes of the loss she had brought upon 
 her dear Merton. Sometimes, at night, the mother would wake, and 
 discover the girl had risen. But she knew where to find her, for 
 Bertha had crept down stairs to fling herself upon the bed in which he 
 had slept, and pray there that he might forgive her the misery she had 
 caused. The house No. 5 became a miserable habitation, such as 
 neither first, second, nor ground-floor lodger would have stopt a 
 day in, and all because Captain Crosier had not courage enough to 
 speak some half-dozen words of truth. 
 '■/' By the death of his mother, Crosier became a gentleman of inde- 
 pendent fortune. The deceased lady's jointure of 400Z. a year de- 
 scended to himself and his sister Helen, but by her will he inherited 
 the sum of nearly 5000Z., moneys which had at different times been 
 bequeathed her by her relations. The sorrow of the son became 
 more intense when he discovered to what an "amount" his departed 
 parent had loved him. He spoke feelingly of the loss he had suffered, 
 and, even when he was calculating mentally what the total of his 
 debts might be, his grief seemed uncontrollable. Simple Helen 
 forgot to cry when brother Merton began to groan and sob. She said 
 pretty, tender consolations about the miseries of this life and the 
 blessings beyond the grave, and used her utmost to check the bitter 
 wailings of the soldier brother. But he was touched to the quick 
 with the loving kindness of the special bequest, and his spirit refused 
 all comfort. Nathaniel Crosier, banker, argued with his broken- 
 hearted son, but to no avail, so he drank his port wine after dinner in 
 solitude, and never bothered his head about where Merton had gone. 
 Yet of the two, Nathaniel Crosier was the more stricken down by the 
 blow. The old man spoke little, but he pined sorely for the lost 
 wife. He grew day by day more and more morose and taciturn, 
 whilst Merton gradually recovered his health and spirits, and was, 
 before a month had passed, in a fit state to write several letters to 
 town, one of which made Mr. Dancer of Holborn very lively, whilst 
 another did more good to the conscience-tormented Bertha than if 
 fifty physicians had held a mighty consultation in her case. It was 
 a short, rapidly scrawled note, but it contained a wonderful prescrip- 
 tion in these words : " I find my poor mother was not, after all, so 
 much opposed as we imagined to our marriage. Her death was 
 caused by the rupture of a blood-vessel. I enclose you a remittance. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 331 
 
 She lingered for only two days. Be kind enough to see that my room 
 is prepared, for I shall be in town shortly. I now, alas ! know how 
 heavy is the loss of a fond parent. What can replace a mother's 
 love ? Send your answer by Cutler, who brings this." 
 
 It seemed as if the best response the captain could find to his ques- 
 tion of " What can replace a mother's love ?" was to fall in love with 
 somebody else. After a month's absence he returned to London, and 
 drove direct to Camberwell. Here he passed his time in listening as 
 patiently as he could to Mrs. Hazlewood's solemn consolations, and 
 in endeavouring to persuade the dejected Bertha that she was in no way 
 accountable for the family bereavement. He was delighted to find 
 that sorrow had had a softening influence over the maiden's heart. 
 Out of respect to the memory of his mother, he thought it would 
 seem heartless, if he commenced his love-making until the edges of 
 his mourning suit evinced something like wear and tear. He even 
 suited his voice to his sable garments, imparting a mournful tone to 
 his sentences, which convinced all hearers that grief was in his heart. 
 It was not until some three months had crept past, that he allowed 
 his lips to utter fond expressions. Even then he pressed his suit in 
 doleful accents, making his affectionate requests in a melodious cadence 
 of sad suffering such as no tender-hearted maiden would wish by cruel 
 refusals to increase or aggravate. He was enchanted at his success, 
 and persuaded himself that, provided he allowed some six months or 
 so to elapse before he pressed the girl to elope with him, there would 
 be no impropriety in the act as far as mourning a mother's loss was 
 concerned. 
 
 Six months are a long period of time. Eor fear the girl should grow 
 nervous and withdraw her consent, he endeavoured to secure her af- 
 fections by divers little acts of great kindness and generosity. He 
 caused his will to be drawn up, and, when everything was prepared, 
 read it over to Bertha. He bequeathed all he possessed to her, 
 and named her as his sole executrix and legatee. He signed the deed 
 in her presence, and had the signature properly witnessed, by a 
 policeman, who charged one shilling as his fee, and the old nurse, 
 who shed tears of gratitude. There was no great importance to be 
 attached to this act, for, as he very well knew, a will is destroyed in 
 much less time than it is prepared. Nevertheless, he made a great 
 fuss about this ceremony, and assured Bertha — who, from a childish 
 idea that men never make their wills until on the point of death, ima- 
 gined her Merton intended to quit this life — that as she was to 
 replace a mother's love, so she ought to receive a mother's legacy. He 
 talked too much about his mother to please honest, sensible persons. 
 But Bertha and her mother were both under the influence of a senti- 
 mental fit, and considered these allusions to his parent as beautifully 
 filial, and extremely affecting. We know the captain better than they 
 did, simple creatures. 
 
 He was for ever impressing on the girl, by making her presents 
 necessary to her future state, that it was now too late to break off the 
 match. He talked with her about the printing of her wedding-cards 
 and the ordering of the cake, although, as their match was to be a 
 stolen one, he never intended to be at the expense of either. His 
 
332 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 object was to be continually talking about the marriage, and allow 
 her no time for thought or repentance. He had plotted with her 
 how they were to leave the house. He was to send her wardrobe to 
 Harley-street in his boxes. The shopkeepers where extensive pur- 
 chases were made had instructions to leave their bulky parcels at the 
 same address. The mother would suspect nothing if she saw no pre- 
 paration for the wedding. He was to leave the house the day before 
 on some important business or other, and she was to join him early 
 the next morning. Then to the ^Registrar's, and afterwards to the 
 north to enjoy the honeymoon. "But," added the captain, "we 
 will not break poor mamma's heart by keeping her in suspense ; you 
 shall send her one of your sweet little letters, telling her that you are 
 right and happy, and that sort of thing, and entreating her to keep 
 the business secret." How kind and considerate he was ; he thought 
 of everybody but himself, dear man. 
 
 "We consider it to be the duty of a young gentleman, even if he 
 does not very deeply mourn the loss of his mother, at any rate to 
 assume a certain show of grief for the bereavement. The captain 
 had fixed six months as the period his affliction was to last. By that 
 time he calculated all his tears would be expended. But before half 
 that time had expired his lachrymal ducts were as dry as gas-pipes. 
 He could hardly persuade himself he had not been an orphan for 
 years. He could not understand why the crape on his hat should 
 wear so well and remain so stiff" and black. Every day he referred to 
 his almanack to see how long he must yet wait before Bertha should 
 deliver herself into his loving custody. He was as impatient for this 
 great holiday as an Indian boy who has been at school all his life. 
 He prepared everything. He remained patiently for an entire hour 
 in a cab at the door of an outfitting establishment whilst she was 
 inside selecting the trousseau. On another occasion — the evening w T as 
 very dark and looked like rain, so that few people were abroad — he 
 escorted Bertha to an eminent jeweller's in Kegent- street to purchase 
 the wedding-ring. He did not tell the girl the purport of their walk 
 until he was close to the shop. Then, in a husky voice, he tried to 
 be poetically affecting on the subject of the " link that was to bind 
 them together for life." He never was much of a hand at sentiment, 
 and any other girl but Bertha would have laughed in his face as he 
 stammered out, " As that ring, my sweetest, is to typify, as it were, 
 our loves, I should like you to select a good, solid, strong one ; and 
 also, my beauty, when once I have placed it on your finger, never on 
 any account take it off again ; even wash your hands with it on. Ho 
 you understand, my dearest treasure ?" Bertha listened to all this 
 twaddle with as solemn a countenance as if it had been spoken from 
 a pulpit. She was, indeed, rather affected by the sentiment. 
 
 Outside the jeweller's shop, the captain felt very nervous and un- 
 easy. He was nearly on the point of asking Bertha to make the pur- 
 chase alone. A man, he thought, looks such a fool buying a wedding- 
 ring, and everybody grins at him. He darted in, dragging " his 
 sweetest" after him in a manner that would have made many believe 
 that this goldsmith and jew r eller advanced money on certain securities 
 besides vending precious ornaments. As the nervous couple stood 
 
• 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 333 
 
 before the counter, they had to undergo another distressing trial. 
 The captain tried to assume an air as if he had only come there for 
 the fun of the thing, and expected Bertha to reply to the man's 
 question of " What can I show you ?" whilst she, unfortunate child, 
 was so overwhelmed by her bashfulness, that she left it to her dashing 
 lover to give the necessary orders. The captain scowled and coloured, 
 fiddled with his eye-glass, and bit his moustache, but eventually 
 had to gasp out the words, "Rings — wedding ones." This was 
 spoken in an under tone, as if he were confiding a secret. 
 
 Unfortunately, the tray in which these plain gold ornaments were 
 kept was exhibited in the window, adorned with white satin bows 
 and other chaste decorations. Some dirty little boys were idling 
 their time, discussing, in vulgar language, which trinket they would 
 most prefer as a present, when the tray of wedding-rings was lifted 
 away from under their small noses, which they had flattened into 
 whiteheart cherries by pressing against the glass. These dirty chil- 
 dren also saw a lady and gentleman inside, and quickly guessed what 
 they had come about. Their laughter and rude remarks attracted 
 several other persons to the window, and a complete audience was 
 formed to witness the conduct of the lovers. AH this the captain 
 witnessed. He heard the children outside prattling about " That's 
 him who's to have her," and knew it was to him the infants referred. 
 He understood that the playful remark of " Her hand's skinnier than 
 my sister's," was meant for Bertha. He didn't like it, and asked 
 Bertha to make haste. In vain did the jeweller observe " that the 
 lady had such a remarkably small finger ;•• it was no consolation, 
 for the glass window seemed nebulous with eyes, all staring at him 
 with impudent expressions. The language of those eyes was rude 
 and personal. Every ring that was tried on Crosier declared would do 
 very well, and, had not the shopman objected to the fit, he would have 
 accepted a golden circle that dangled as loosely on the girl's finger 
 as a hoop on its stick. At last the exact size was found ; it was 
 weighed and paid for ; and the captain, at a brisk trot, left the shop. 
 
 Dreadfully annoyed by this humiliating trial, the captain could 
 scarcely speak civilly to her whom, but a few minutes before, he had 
 styled " his treasure." He walked along sulking. " I was a fool ever 
 to mention anything about the ring," he soliloquised. " What the 
 deuce does she want with a ring ? I hate such tomfoolery. Throw- 
 ing sixteen shillings away — for what? — a thing she will never be 
 entitled to wear. Much better have bought herself a pair of boots." 
 Tet, despite these extraordinary remarks, when Bertha, that very 
 evening, whilst making his strong coffee, asked him (mother was 
 down stairs) if he liked this much-abused ring, he tried it on her finger, 
 and, then kissing her hand, exclaimed, with rapture, " Bertha, I wor- 
 ship it, as an emblem of yourself, for its purity and simplicity. On such 
 a hand, it does indeed appear lovely." And he fell to Kissing her 
 fingers as if he could have eaten them, the ring included. 
 
334 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SOME OF THE ADVENTURES WHICH BEFEL MONSIEUR EMILE VAUTRIN DURING TEN 
 YEARS OF HIS LIFE. 
 
 The heading to this chapter is so startling that, without explanation, 
 the reader might feel inclined to treat it like a dirty puddle, and just 
 skip over it. The idea of having to devour ten years of adventure at 
 one sitting is depressing and unnatural. The dish*is so enormous that 
 it sickens the appetite, and even curiosity's capacious stomach feels 
 overladen before a single sentence has been tasted. But we intend 
 to grind down and knead this long period of time, so that these ten 
 years shall make as thin a slice in the loaf of this story as if they had 
 been so many ears of corn. 
 \f Emile Yautrin was a reckless, unprincipled man. He might have 
 carried his virtues in his snuff-box, and there would have been plenty 
 of room left for the rappee. He thought no more of taking a new 
 name when his old one was worn out than he did of taking a 
 newer hat or a fresher umbrella whenever a favourable opportunity 
 presented itself. On one occasion, as we have seen, he had, in a free 
 and easy manner, unauthorised by any government, joined the army 
 as Colonel of the ll e Leger ; on another he had entered into com- 
 merce as one Coquardeau, a clerk ; and, as a crowning touch, he had 
 turned philanthropist, calling himself Chose. Whenever one cogno- 
 men was a little out at elbows, or spoken of too familiarly by the 
 police, it was changed for a better, fresher, and less celebrated appel- 
 lation. No godfathers were troubled to attend such christenings ; 
 nobody became security for future sins ; and a petit verre was the 
 baptismal font. 
 
 Usually Emile Yautrin led an ignoble and vicious life, caring no 
 more for the eye of the law than he did for the eye of a potato. If 
 that coach and four which can be driven through every act of Parlia- 
 ment had been in want of a coachman, this desperado was the man of 
 men to handle the reins. He was what the Americans call " a bad 
 
 egg-" 
 
 Yet there were moments when Yautrin complained bitterly of the 
 ill-treatment he had suffered in the world. This unjust man, who 
 had wronged so many, had an idea that he had been driven into his 
 reckless course of vice by the wrongs heaped upon him by his enemies. 
 "When in the fourth stage of drunkenness, or depressed by ill luck, 
 he would talk by the hour, and grind his teeth, over the injuries that 
 had crushed him. He once informed an eminent advocate, who un- 
 dertook some little law business, " that his natural was good," but, 
 added the client, " I have been made what I am. My guilt be on 
 their shoulders. They massacred the wife I adored, they robbed me 
 of her fortune, and they stole from me my beloved child. They left 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 335 
 
 ine the miserable being you behold." At the door of Nathaniel 
 Crosier of Swanborough did Vautrin deposit the big bundle of his 
 crimes, trusting that it would trip up that respectable gentleman 
 whenever he might set out on his way to heaven. 
 
 There was some little truth, and a great deal of imagination, in the 
 Frenchman's complainings. His sentimental raving about his wife 
 and child was mere bombast, but the lost fortune he wailed over was 
 as true as arithmetic. Bitterly did he regret it. Nathaniel Crosier 
 had married a Miss Merton, and father-in-law, not liking son-in-law, 
 had insisted that the bride's fortune — a pretty little income of about 
 four hundred pounds — should be settled on her as tight as lawyers' 
 pens and red tape could bind it. After the mother's death, the chil- 
 dren — if any — were to inherit this jointure. If the children died, 
 leaving husbands or (legitimate) issue, these were again to become 
 possessed. So it stands to reason that Yautrin had a distinct and 
 perfect claim to one-third of these yearly four hundred pounds. 
 Boldly and with much noise would he have demanded justice in the 
 English law courts, but that the little affair of impersonating the 
 Colonel of the ll e Leger rendered such an experiment hazardous and 
 unprofitable. He had peculiar notions about the value of liberty. 
 Besides, gruel was his aversion. 
 
 "We have often heard it asserted that thieves are thieves because 
 they delight in their daring life. Many are of opinion that a pick- 
 pocket, earning thirty shillings weekly at his illegal craft, would, if 
 his honesty were better paid, refuse to quit his wickedness. This is 
 mere ill-natured talk. Nobody would have been more delighted than 
 our Frenchman to become respectable, had his virtue been priced at 
 even the value of a cigar above the returns of his roguery. We do 
 not mean to say that he would have worked more laboriously, or risen 
 one hour earlier, or toiled one hour later, for the advantage of being 
 considered an honourable man. But, provided the exertion imposed 
 and the earnings were to be in both cases similar, Vautrin would 
 have embraced the respectable in preference to the disreputable life. 
 He had made many attempts to steady himself in society. With the 
 plunder obtained from his " Colonel du ll e Leger" performance he 
 vowed to reform, and, if it answered, repent. On his return to Paris, 
 he had speculated in an eating-house, spending his capital of about 
 three thousand francs in fitting up a cheap restaurant in the " Quar- 
 iier Latin." He announced dinner, consisting of four plats and a 
 dessert, at one franc a head. The carte du jour always contained 
 11 filet de loeuf" and " gibelotte de lapin." The salle a manger was 
 not a sumptuously-furnished apartment, but it served. The rush- 
 covered stools were comfortable enough, and the deal tables looked 
 neat, and occasionally, when hidden under the cotton napkins, clean. 
 A row of hat-pegs, a crockery ware stove, and a few looking-glasses, 
 were even more than the one-franc customers expected or needed. 
 They cared little about ornamentation provided the portions were 
 large. The establishment of Monsieur Tinton (he had again changed 
 his name) soon won the esteem of the students. His " bif-teks" 
 were tres solides, and gifted with the distinguishing characteristics of 
 caoutchouc, being both indigestible and elastic. The medical or legal 
 
336 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 student who eat one of those steaks might possibly suffer from indi- 
 gestion, but certainly hunger would not for that day again trouble 
 him. The gibelottes de lapin were also favourably received by the 
 customers, and the absence of more than one head in each portion 
 termed honourable treatment. But, despite the twopence-halfpenny 
 charged for wine (when required), despite the weakness of the 
 Julienne soup, the scantiness of the salad, and the one apple for des- 
 sert, the restaurant, to Vautrin's sincere regret, was a failure. He 
 again vowed it was useless trying to be honest, and, secretly selling 
 off his stools, tables, and stewpans, decamped before the landlord had 
 time to ask for the rent. 
 
 Then he came to England — the richest country in the world, as he 
 called it. Once more he succeeded in filling his pockets, his com- 
 mercial speculation, as agent for the firm of Jonkopings, Tandstickor, 
 and Co., being eminently prosperous. He made Irish linens refund 
 what he had lost by beef-steaks. Had the climate of Great Britain 
 been more genial, and the amusements of the metropolis more various, 
 or its Sabbath more gay, Monsieur Vautrin asserted that he would 
 have permanently settled in our monster city. He liked the business 
 methods and the great facilities " paper" offered an ingenious mer- 
 chant. But his health suffering, and Inspector Gyves becoming 
 alarmingly alert, he once more asked for a passport, and departed. 
 
 Again he determined on giving honesty a fair chance. People 
 spoke so loudly about the better policy of integrity that he could not 
 imagine it was done expressly to deceive him. He had about 800Z. 
 to speculate with, and if plain dealing would give him cent, per cent., 
 it was, he considered, as good an investment as any other. This time 
 he opened a cafe estaminet. It was richly decorated with pier- 
 glasses and marble-topped tables. The velvet couches were as broad 
 as beds. The comptoir was fanciful and elegant, with its gilding and 
 inlaid woods. The two plated urns in which the sous given to the 
 garcons were deposited shone like lamps. A mountain of portions of 
 sugar sparkled in crystalline purity at each extremity. The young 
 lady who presided on this throne was fascinatingly attired, and her 
 beauty soon made an impression upon the hearts of the coffee, beer, 
 and eau-sucr£e drinkers. In addition to this, Monsieur Everard 
 (Yautrin thought his new name had an innocent and poetic sound) 
 mounted " trois billards" — noble tables, nearly ten feet in length, 
 with ormolu lions' heads instead of pockets, and highly-carved legs. 
 Before the garcons were engaged, express stipulations were made as 
 to the number of clean aprons they were to wear weekly. 
 
 Soon the Cafe Mirabeau began to be talked of. The lumps of 
 sugar were reported to be sublimely generous in their dimensions ; 
 the coffee was declared to be " du veritable moka;" and the cognac 
 spoken of as being soft as satin. The two garcons in their jackets 
 and pumps found the sous given them mounting up. The cry of 
 " Ver-r-r-sez" might have been heard on the other side of the street. 
 The customers for du noir, choppes, and canettes increased daily. 
 The oains de pied — as the overflowings of the cup into the saucer 
 are called — were overwhelmingly liberal. The Cafe du Boi, higher 
 up, had to retain its customers by lowering the price of the demi-tasse 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 337 
 
 one sou, and the Cafe do la Heine, lower <lown, tried to avoid insol- 
 vency by turning its petits verves into large ones. 
 
 Presently the Cafe Mirabeau bad its habitues who came there night 
 after night, wet or fine. A pipe-rack was mounted to hold the " clays'* 
 these constant customers were colouring. Now men began to make 
 appointments " chez Everard," and spend the evening together, 
 emptying choppes of beer and playing at billiards " who should pay." 
 The rattle of the dominoes on the marble tops of the tables was like the 
 clatter of plates in a scullery. There were little square boards covered 
 with green baize for card-players, and many whist parties passed the 
 entire day over the fascinating game, wearing out a pack of the flimsy 
 paper cards by the constant wetting of the thumb whilst dealing. 
 Every paper published in Paris was taken in, and fastened to the 
 razor-strop looking holder — excellent preservers of the journal, but 
 rather too much like perusing a flag, to be pleasant to the reader. 
 
 In a short time, Monsieur Everard became a great man in the 
 quariier. He had always longed to be respected in some quartier or 
 other. The boulanger, who kept the iron-railed bread shop next door, 
 the epicier in his grocer's shop opposite, the marchand de nouveautes, 
 the marchand de vins, all the neighbours, in fact, spoke of him as a 
 " good child" and " a very amiable boy." He never refused to give a 
 customer, who had even twice left his purse at home, credit till better 
 times. He never ceased to smile unless it was to restrain the love- 
 making of some impertinent student whispering at the comptoir to 
 Mademoiselle Constance. Even then he spoke mildly and frankly. 
 " Let us see," he would say ; " let us finish these follies. Her father 
 is one of the old of the old who followed Napoleon. Let us respect 
 the only child of a brave." When he joined in a game of billiards 
 with his more cherished customers, be would delight all with the 
 quaint phrases he used. A ball under the cushion was said to " man- 
 ger du merinos" He would with each stroke request his ball to go 
 " vigoureusement ma belle" or to " lever ses pattes." When the stakes 
 played for were trivial, he managed after a desperately close game to 
 lose, but on other occasions he was wonderfully fortunate. " A-t-il 
 de la chance ce diable d' Everard" his opponents would cry out when 
 he made eight or nine cannons running. 
 
 He might have done well at this estaminet, but his gipsy nature 
 would not allow him to remain long at any quiet occupation. It was 
 at this time that he had written to Mr. Nathan, of Lyon's Inn, to 
 find out his son Philip and send him over to Erance. If the boy 
 could have been discovered, perhaps the father would have remained 
 steady at his coffee-selling, but, annoyed at the failure of Mr. Na- 
 than's search, Everard, alias Vautrin, took a dislike to the jog-trot 
 estaminet, and disposed of the business. 
 
 He had always complained that his life had been a failure simply 
 for the want of a little ready money to go to work with. He would 
 talk of the voleurs on the Bourse, and with bitter scorn taunt them 
 that, with their chances, they did not do more. It really seemed as if 
 there were some truth in his boastings. A week after he had sold his 
 caf6, Everard had started " the Grand National Marriage Insurance 
 Company." What he made by it, he never confessed. He was, how- 
 
 z 
 
338 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 ever, sufficiently enriched to become a large speculator on the Bourse, 
 and one of the little kings of the Passage de 1' Opera. A few more 
 lucky; hits, and his vagrant boy, Phil, might have been a dandy, a rentier. 
 But it was the old story. He realised a fortune in four trans- 
 actions, and lost it by the fifth. In his mad endeavour to re-establish 
 himself, he parted with every sixpence, and eventually did something 
 or other which was considered, even by the frequenters of that national 
 gambling-house, to be swindling, and the gates of this paradise of 
 fools were closed on the " coquin" 
 
 Without even a bad shilling in his pocket, Everard changed his 
 name to Boustache, and began the world afresh. His old friends, the 
 wine sellers ^of the Temple, received him again to their hearts and 
 back parlours, upbraiding him slightly for his two years' absence, and 
 perhaps delighted that, after all his grand doings, he was no better off 
 than themselves. This was the bitter winter and discontent of Vau- 
 trin's life. He remembered to his dying hour the hardships he was 
 forced to endure. His brain was so fogged, and his heart so dejected 
 with his failure, that he could devise no scheme to raise himself above 
 the vulgar pickpocketing herd. To prevent himself from starving, he 
 turned vendor of tooth-powder and square tablets for removing 
 grease from cloth. Those who bought the powder had the tablet 
 given them for nothing. 
 
 For the entire summer, with his tray of merchandise before him, 
 he took up his post on the Boulevard du Temple. He had com- 
 posed an address to the people, which collected a vast mob, and al- 
 ways delighted his audience. He prefaced the exhibition of the mar- 
 vellous effects of the tooth-powder in these words : 
 
 " This specific, being both odontalgic"and balsamic, is a sovereign 
 remedy for the caries, canker, and corrosion of the teeth. It was 
 presented to a gentleman of distinguished character in the highest 
 circles by his Excellency the Ambassador of Persia. Its virtues shall 
 
 be proved by public experiment Come here, ignoble boy! 
 
 Behold the teeth of this infant are of the most perfect black. You 
 place a little of the specific on a brush in this manner — you humect 
 with water. Do not imagine that the water is prepared ; water, the 
 first that comes to hand, water hard or soft, from the cistern or the 
 barrel, or, as in this instance, water from the gutter. You rub the 
 teeth and thus render them whiter than enamel, strengthening 
 the gums and soothing the nerves." Then he would scrub at the 
 unfortunate boy's mouth, and, as the powder would have served 
 equally well for cleaning knives, it did certainly in a remarkably short 
 time grind away some of the dark stains from the teeth. Whilst this 
 operation was proceeding, Monsieur Vautrin would exclain, partially 
 to drown the cries of the suffering lad, " The price of my specific is 
 only five sous the box ! dedicated to the Peuple Er-r-r-rancais, at five 
 sous the box!" 
 
 He was a patient, much-enduring man, this Vautrin, gifted with 
 the indomitable perseverance of a caterpillar, which, however often it 
 is knocked down from the stem of a tree, will again and again com- 
 mence to climb upwards. When at the bottom of the ladder, Vau- 
 trin was always thinking of the topmost round. When he had picked 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 339 
 
 up enough money -with his tooth-powder to enable him to travel to 
 England, he gave up dentistry, and, with a forged passport, left Paris. 
 He had no definite object in coming to London beyond that of plun- 
 dering whomever and wherever he could. The first day he arrived, 
 he experimented on the memory of the police, by entering the Bow- 
 street Court as a spectator. He was delighted to find that neither 
 inspectors nor men had the least suspicion of him. He had left the 
 metropolis in a black wig and heavy whiskers, and he returned with 
 flaxen locks and an elegant moustache. 
 
 »/ It was shortly after Vautrin's return that a great many letters 
 were sent to the Times, complaining of the darkness of the metropo- 
 litan roads. Applications were constantly being made to the Ham- 
 mersmith magistrate by gentlemen and ladies who had been followed 
 and robbed by a tall, powerful man, who wore a comforter so arranged 
 that it masked his face. His method was to creep after a foot 
 passenger until he or' she had reached a portion of the road where, 
 in consequence of the discontinuance of the gas-lamps, the darkness 
 favoured the robbery ; and then, having pinioned the arms of the 
 victim, a pocket-handkerchief was thrust into the mouth, and the 
 pockets rifled without dread of anyinterference. One of these complain- 
 ants had lost thirteen sovereigns, another his gold watch and a pocket- 
 book of bank-notes. In all these robberies the tall man was assisted 
 by a shorter and apparently younger companion. In one evening it 
 was calculated that they became unlawfully possessed of some fifty 
 pounds' worth of property. The Hammersmith police, the moment 
 the robberies were committed, became very active. But the man 
 and his associate had left the neighbourhood before the constables 
 attempted to seize them. They were next heard of at Brixton, after 
 that at Hackney, and subsequently at Peckham. They always 
 seemed to post themselves at a short distance from the tavern where 
 the omnibuses stopped, and, having then fixed upon the victim to be 
 plucked, to follow him until he reached some secluded, dark spot 
 favourable to the plucking. 
 
 This tall man was Yautrin. Who do you think the associate was ? 
 No other than Jack Drake, the quondam captain of the Crossing 
 Sweepers' gang. The Frenchman had picked him up at a low twopenny 
 lodging-house in Gun-yard, "Whitechapel, and tempted him into joining 
 his foot-padding expeditions. The Duck was in a terrible state of des- 
 titution, and the prospect of being clothed and fed soon placed him in 
 Vautrin's power. Up to that time he had been a mere prig, purloin- 
 ing bacon, and wrenching off brass bell-pulls to sell as old metal. 
 The idea of being a highwayman had something grand in it. Purses 
 were better plunder than the scraps on a butcher's stall. It was 
 like a militiaman entering a Queen's regiment. 
 
 Vautrin had promised to make a fine fellow of the Duck, and, as 
 far as clothing was concerned, kept his word. After the exploits 
 in the dark London roads, the pair journeyed into the country. They 
 had plenty of money, and travelled like gentlemen. Not a town they 
 passed through but they left it with greater wealth than when they 
 entered. Their plan was for Yautrin to enter an hotel and engage 
 the best suite of apartments to be had. He drove up to the house 
 
 z2 
 
340 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 with heavy trunks on the cab. "Whilst choosing his bedroom, he 
 would give great trouble to the housekeeper, asking why he could not 
 have such and such a chamber, until he learned pretty nearly which 
 rooms were occupied. After an excellent supper he would ring the 
 bell for his candle and proceed to his bedroom to arrange his hair, 
 having previously inquired of the waiter whether there was any place 
 of amusement open in the town. As he went up-stairs, a glance at 
 the candlesticks ranged on the side-table at each landing, told him 
 whether many of the travellers were in their rooms or down stairs. 
 All he wanted was half an hour to himself, for by that time he had 
 made the round of the bed-chambers, ripping open trunks and boxes 
 with his chisel and short crowbar. If he found any money or jewellery 
 they were crammed into his coat pocket. He never meddled with 
 bulky plunder. He could rifle a trunk in one minute and a half. 
 
 Then, with the "greatest sang-froid, would this extraordinary man 
 descend the staircase, and, telling the waiters that he should not re- 
 turn before twelve, hurry off to the rendezvous he had made with 
 Jack Drake. It was the Duck's business to carry about his person, 
 and dispose of, the stolen effects. The descriptions that were, in- 
 stantly after their exploits, published of Monsieur Yautrin's person 
 and costume rendered it highly dangerous for that eminent leader to 
 risk too great an exposure of his manly form in the public streets. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 CONTAINING MANY INCIDENTS WHICH OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN TOLD PAGES AGO, 
 RELATING, AMONG OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES, HOW FATHER AND SON MET, THE CON- 
 VERSATION THAT ENSUED, AND IN WHAT MANNER PHIL FOLLOWED HIS PARENT'S 
 ADVICE. 
 
 As chance would have it, Philip Merton was wandering about the 
 streets of Derby on the very same day that Monsieur Yautrin and 
 his friend, the Duck, arrived by the express from Nottingham, to 
 see if there were anything to be done in their little line of business. 
 The vagrant in his black, mangy rags, with his shoulders up to his 
 ears, was paddling with his naked feet along the muddy road, wishing 
 that somebody would try and hit him in the eye with a sixpence, 
 when the Duck, attired so fashionably that even the Governor of 
 Coldbath-fields would not have recognised him, sauntered past, his 
 ever active mind endeavouring to recal the words of a song he had 
 joined chorus to overnight : 
 
 " It's all for that ale, that confounded ale, 
 That confounded ale and tobaccy," 
 
 was all he could remember of the poem, and it annoyed him con- 
 siderably. "When, therefore, Phil — little dreaming that the Duck 
 stood before him — commenced in his cringing voice to petition " his 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 341 
 
 honour to spare a copper," Jack Drake, who was up to cadging in 
 all its branches, having professed the calling, assumed a pompous 
 demeanour, and asked the beggar why he did not work, and if he 
 wasn't ashamed of himself for leading such an idle, disgraceful life. 
 It was pleasant to the Duck to be able to repeat the rebukes he had 
 himself so frequently met with. Whilst explaining the reason of his 
 distress, Phil addressed the buckish prig so respectfully, and made use 
 of so many flattering expressions, that, pleased with this evidence of 
 his prosperous appearance, the Duck gave alms. More, he endea- 
 voured to read the vagrant a moral lesson. 
 
 " Sich a reg'lar strong-made chap as you, as has the wear of cast- 
 iron in yer, to be cadging about, is rather too stiflBsh for my swallow. 
 Why, you could carry a load o' bricks on them shoulders, and feel 
 'em no more than a coat collar." 
 
 Philip was startled to hear such a fashionable person talk such very 
 rickety British. He gave the usual excusing answers almost me- 
 chanically, whilst his mind was busy wondering whether the dandy 
 was a genuine or forged article. 
 
 "Now, how do you think I should perwide for myself if I didn't 
 work ?" continued the moralising Duck. " Do you think I likes 
 work ? Not me. It's too rich for my stomick ; idleness is my drink, 
 only it pays you out so tremendous the next day." 
 
 The vagrant considered that, after this charity sermon, a collection 
 would follow, so he listened humbly. The ex- captain grew more and 
 more virtuous. 
 
 " Do you think sich as me don't know the value of pence, but must 
 be continual getting change for sich as you ? We earns our money 
 too severe for sich extravagance. Sooner than be a lumping about 
 the streets, I'd take a broom, and start a crossing. I never see finer 
 mud or likelier pitches," he added, his great experience in these 
 matters making him for a moment forget himself. 
 
 A little learning proved a very dangerous thing for Master Drake. 
 The ragged beggar had often looked up slily in the lecturer's face. 
 He had noticed that two of the big front teeth were missing. If 
 ever the fashionable gentleman smiled, his face, which before had been 
 blank and smooth as a table-cloth, crumpled up like a collapsed 
 balloon and became a mass of wrinkles and dimples. Had Jack kept 
 his knowledge about crossings and mud locked up in the dark cellar 
 of his brain, he would have escaped detection. As one who has for- 
 gotten a certain tune, requires but to have the few first notes 
 hummed in order to start off in full voice with the remainder of the 
 melody, so Phil," the moment he heard the words " take a broom," 
 was, as it were, carried back to the days of his dirty childhood, when 
 " catenwheeling" was his trade, and the Haymarket his workshop. 
 The first idea that crossed his brain was, " What a tip-topper the 
 Duck has turned out." That gentleman was expecting a cringing, 
 supplicating reply, and his knees almost bent under him as Phil, in a 
 moment brightening up and looking sharp as a terrier at a rat-hole, 
 cried out, " You cussed Jack Drake, shut up that patter ; I'm Phil 
 Merton!" 
 
 We will say this for the Duck : he had great presence of mind. He 
 
342 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 never attempted to deny his identity, but assumed a pleased air, as 
 if the sight of an old comrade cheered him. He expressed his delight 
 by exclaiming, " Here's a start ! a reg'lar twicer !" He admitted 
 that he was in Phil's power by saying, in a low voice, " Don't blow 
 the gaff — follow me." Thus, by a few simple words, did Jack, with- 
 out insulting his friend by objecting to the neglige of his costume, 
 avoid being seen walking with rags and tatters. Further, the dilapi- 
 dated friend felt his heart kindle towards his old pal, even though he 
 followed like a dog at his heels. 
 
 For fear Phil might burn with rage after the moral lecture, the 
 Duck poured beer down his throat sufficient to have extinguished a 
 smouldering chimney. He also presented his old mate with five 
 shillings. His manner was most affectionate and affecting. The 
 wretched Phil, despite the drink, felt sad and embittered as he listened 
 to the Duck's history. " I'm on the square now," boasted that won- 
 derful youth ; " regular straight and open. I'm a w r allet to a French 
 gent, a good 'un to pay, and remarkable civil-tempered." This was 
 wormwood to the listener. He was jealous of the luck the ignorant, 
 coarse Master Drake had met with. "When the Duck rose to depart, 
 it was as much as Phil could do to assume a straight-lipped smile, 
 and allow his black hand to be shaken. He even regretted that he 
 had given the direction of the travellers' padding-ken where he was 
 lodging. " I'd as soon drown as see him again," thought Phil. " It's 
 like taking poison to hear him talk of his luck." 
 
 Had it depended upon Master Drake, a second meeting would never 
 have taken place. Like a good and faithful servant, he rushed home 
 at a speed which crimsoned his face, and gave warning to the French 
 gent that they must slope from Derby with the greatest activity. 
 
 " If we ain't minus in less than no time, we're blowed upon," the 
 excited Duck said, in a confidential murmur, which no waiter, how- 
 ever close his ear might have been to the keyhole, could have over- 
 heard. " I've just met a chap as knowed me, and, from the looks of 
 him, he'd peach for the vally of a pipe of baccer." 
 
 Men of nerve never allow themselves to feel alarmed. Although 
 Monsieur Yautrin was trying to remember when the next train started, 
 he replied, " We shall have done our business by to-morrow. To- 
 day, I am too tired to travel any further. Who is this friend, and 
 why the devil do you go exhibiting yourself in the street ?" 
 
 The Drake, who feared his master to such an extent that at times he 
 felt inclined to betray him, took no notice of the rebuke, but continued : 
 — " I tell you this chap is dead on us. We shall be coopered if we 
 don't pad the hoof, and that rapid. He's a chap of the name of Phil 
 Merton, who " 
 
 What else he was going to say was interrupted by the peculiar 
 behaviour of the Frenchman. Master Drake's sentence ended in a 
 moan similar to that dismal sound produced when the music of a 
 barrel-organ is suddenly cut short. Monsieur Vautrin had jerked his 
 body most strangely to one side as he heard this name, almost aa 
 though a stone had been thrown at him, and he had drawn back to 
 avoid it. He had also dropt his cigar, and, although he turned his 
 back to the window, and tried to conceal his countenance, Jack 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 343 
 
 noticed it had turned to a corpse-like hue. His voice had a dry, 
 hoarse sound as he asked : " Do you know where this boy is to be 
 found?" Because Jack stammered a little as he replied, "How 
 should I know ?" Emile Vautrin twirled round on his heel, and 
 scowled as if he was about to fly at the youth's throat. " Because 
 he told you. Gk> and fetch him. I must see him. Do you hear 
 me ? Bring him here." 
 
 " Bring him here !" cried the Duck. " "Well, you do talk. "Why 
 he's as ragged as an old kite in a tree. They'd want to carry him 
 up-stairs in a dustpan." 
 
 " Buy him clothes, then," roared Vautrin. " Have you no sense, 
 blockhead ? Or, stay ; your things will fit him — let him wear them." 
 
 " And what am I to do ?" inquired Jack, saucily. He had a suspi- 
 cion that the Frenchman wanted to get rid of him, and that was a 
 thing he would not stand. There had been a misunderstanding the 
 day before at Nottingham. He could see through " the dodge" well 
 enough. 
 
 " What are you to do ?" answered the master ; " why, wear his rags, 
 if you like, or get others, if you choose. Understand me, Jack — that 
 boy must be here in an hour, or I shall hunt him up myself." In a 
 mild, sneaking tone, he added, " If you put me to that trouble, I shall 
 not consider you my friend, nor feel the same affection for you that 
 I do now, my good Jack. So go along at once, and here is money 
 for you to buy the clothes — mind, good clothes, such as I wear." 
 
 The good Jack looked about as amiable as a baited bull, and on 
 taking the proffered note, crushed it up savagely, as if it had been 
 the giver's neck. But he did not dare to be disobedient, and shuffled 
 to the door. The Frenchman with his bright eye, grey and round as 
 a new bullet, called to Jack as he was about to turn the handle, and 
 said, in his mild, patronising manner : 
 
 ■ My poor Jack, you are angry, and hate me, because you are 
 jealous. That is wrong, my boy. I am your friend, and would not 
 desert you for any one. Now you can go, and, to please me, do not 
 be long." 
 
 As he descended the stairs, the Duck remarked to himself, " How 
 did the chap know why I was riled ? He's up to everything. There 
 never was such a dodger. Wouldn't he make a spanking Peeler !" 
 The prospect of gaining a few shillings, by overcharging for the pur- 
 chase of the clothes, helped to smoothe the Duck's ruffled feathers. 
 
 How different was his manner to Phil, when he sought out that 
 wandering youth at the padding-ken. He shook his old companion's 
 hand with a brave, hearty manner, and thus addressed him : 
 
 " I never see a old pal in the suds but my spirit's willing to give 
 him a hist up'ards. I've stood your friend, Phil, and put in a good 
 word for yer in the right quarter — the same as is meat, drink, and 
 toggery to me." He then related to Merton an affecting history 
 of how his heart grieved to see the friend of his youth in so sad a 
 plight. He had interceded with the French gent, and ultimately 
 prevailed on him to take an additional servant into his employ. 
 " I can tell you, it was touch-and-go work ; but I was so precious 
 hard down on him, says he, at last, * By G-osh, Jack ! you'd talk a 
 
344 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 milestone over to the t'other side of the road.' And there he give 
 in, and took it quite sweet and nat'ral." 
 
 No one would imagine that Phil could see anything to object to in 
 such a brilliant future as Jack had sketched out for him. Warm 
 clothes, warm dinners, and warm beds, have their attractions. Good 
 money paid quarterly, a new suit per annum, and little or no work to 
 do, sounds temptingly. Perhaps Phil objected to have .Tack as a 
 benefactor. Perhaps he — as many persons do — felt hurt that an igno- 
 rant, coarse fellow should have it in his power to render a service far 
 above any he could realise for himself. Much to the Duck's delight, 
 Merton did not jump so eagerly at the offer. He asked how much 
 tin was given ? and when the knowing Jack purposely understated 
 the sum, he remarked, " That's short earnings." Many other busi- 
 ness inquiries were made, to all of which the most unfavourable 
 replies were readily given. The Duck was already congratulating 
 himself upon having choked off his rival. 
 
 " I do pretty well at cadging," said Phil. " Of course I don't wear 
 these rags you see when I knock off work. I live pretty well, and it's 
 middling jolly." 
 
 "And you're your own master," suggested Jack. "Nobody to 
 swear at you but the Peelers, and they comes under the head of 
 destiny, and don't rile a chap no more than thunder or rain." 
 
 But, too knowing to let the chance of a new suit of clothes slip by, 
 Phil, after all, determined to see the Frenchman. The Duck had 
 felt so certain of a refusal, that he had arranged in his own mind a 
 clever anecdote to enable him to keep the five-pound note. He had 
 determined on soiling his coat with mud, and then telling the French- 
 man that Phil, suspecting foul play, had pushed him, and bolted off 
 just as they were within five minutes' walk of the hotel. His dis- 
 gust, therefore, when Merton took up his hat, and said, " there is no 
 harm in seeing what this rich chap is made of," was so great, that he 
 tried to pick a quarrel, saying he would hear the gent spoke of in 
 that manner by no one, nowhere — no, not if they was as big as a 
 house, and forty-horse power." 
 
 The tailor makes the man. Always wear a good coat. It is almost 
 as serviceable as a good character. Many persons who in the morn- 
 ing had threatened Phil as a vagabond would, had they met him 
 adorned with his excellent suit, have styled him a very gentlemanly, 
 well-behaved young man. A barber had cut his hair and pomatumed 
 it with a highly- scented grease. His boots, his clothes, and his hat were 
 lustrous with the varnish of newness. Waiters drew back, and made 
 way for the well-dressed gentleman. The chambermaid gazed on him, 
 and felt how easy it would be to love such a man. And this miracle 
 was produced by a good coat. Ten years of a rogue's life atoned for 
 and forgiven through a thirty-shilling paletot. 
 
 As they ascended the stairs, the man waiting for them heard their 
 footfalls, and, tossing off a glass of brandy, tried to be calm. For the 
 last half hour he had stood at the window, gazing right and left to 
 catch the first sight of Philip Merton. He dare not trust himself to 
 speak when the lads entered. He knew the words would stick in his 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 345 
 
 throat and betray him. So he motioned Phil to a chair, and, leaning 
 against the mantelpiece, stared at him. Eor more than ten minutes 
 he did not utter a word. The Duck was wondering to himself " what 
 the doose had come to the governor." The Duck would have made great 
 allowances for human nature had he been aware that only once before 
 the father had seen his son, and then under painful circumstances. 
 Now Vautrin could examine the latter without fear or interruption. 
 He could trace a resemblance to himself in the long-missing son, and 
 that pleased him, for Phil was a better looking man than the father had 
 ever been. The shoulders were broad, the strong arms filled up the 
 coat-sleeve with the bulging muscles, and he had the slimness and the 
 strength of a greyhound. Vautrin looked at the handsome face, and 
 half laughed as he wondered if in his youth he had been such ajoli 
 garqon. He also thought of the mother, who had died giving life to 
 this fine youth ; but he did not dwell at length on this subject. He 
 had become entitled to property through his wife's death — he had 
 ceased to deplore her loss. He rejoiced in the son as a means of 
 claiming the inheritance and baffling Crosier. 
 
 Those who believe in the voice of nature will be surprised to hear 
 that on this occasion Philip felt no thrill in his bosom as he beheld 
 his father. He was, instead of being overcome by the parental gaze, 
 considerably annoyed at it. He moved uneasily in his chair, brushed 
 his hat with his hand, and finally occupied himself with the improve- 
 ment of his nails. " "When he's done staring, perhaps he'll say so," 
 thought Phil. 
 
 When Yautrin felt the muscles in his throat relax, he began to 
 speak. He ordered up wine. He laughed, and joked, and talked on 
 every subject but the one Phil considered the most important. They 
 dined together. " This is a strange kind of gent," the son could not 
 help thinkiug, "to dine with his valets. There's something very de- 
 ranged in these clock-works." When the hour grew late, Vautrin 
 rang the bell, and ordered a bed to be prepared for his young friend. 
 They shook hands and retired to rest excellent friends. Determined 
 to make some inquiries into the mystery, Phil followed the Duck into 
 that bold outlaw's chamber, and, shutting the door, inquired, " Jack, 
 who the devil is this chap ?" 
 
 " He's allers like you see him," replied Mr. Drake ; " remarkable 
 haffable and free." 
 
 " What does he want with me ?" inquired Phil. 
 
 " You might as w r ell ax me which side of his starchers has the most 
 hairs," answered Jack. 
 
 " He's a rum 'un," added Phil. 
 
 " Uncommon so," responded the Duck, "and very good company, 
 leastways when so inclined." 
 
 In the morning, before Phil was awake, Vautrin entered his room, 
 bringing him clean linen and shaving tackle. He could scarcely bear 
 the boy to be out of his sight. It seemed as if he feared Phil should 
 run away. They went out walking together, and he was kind 
 to an astonishing degree. He insisted that Phil wished to smoke, 
 and purchased cigars. He joked him about some ladies that passed 
 
346 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 by. He asked him constantly to enter taverns and call for what he 
 liked. 
 
 " This is very jolly," thought Phil, " only very difficult to come at." 
 
 In the evening the explanation ensued. Master Drake was, in very 
 polite but very unmistakable language, desired to make himself scarce. 
 He grumbled, and asked for the loan of half a sovereign, as if those 
 were his terms for absenting himself. To Phil's surprise the Prench 
 gent lent his valet the required sum. "When father and son were 
 alone, the following conversation took place over some cigars and 
 brandy-and-water : 
 
 Father. Come closer to the fire, I want to talk with you on busi- 
 ness. You have, Drake tells me, led a miserable life. Is that true ? 
 
 Son (rather doggedly and annoyed). I have lived as well as I 
 could. 
 
 Father. I know the life — the same rags from the first week of the 
 year to the last — a twopenny bed at a lodging-house, or a turn-in 
 under a hay-stack. Pood when the begging has been lucky, and 
 none, or a bone snatched from a dog, or a root torn up from a field, 
 when halfpence are scarce. I know. 
 
 Son (spitefully). And, if you do know, what comes of it ? 
 
 Father. Why, it's a low game, and the only thing that comes of it 
 is what it gets — rags and starvation. You must leave this life and 
 follow mine. 
 
 Son. What is yours ? 
 
 Father. Plenty and good covering. Do I live well ? I have only 
 to ring this bell to order what I require. I have money enough to give 
 orders to half the shops in the town. Yet I only work one hour where 
 you toil an entire day. Will you join me ? 
 
 Son. What is your business ? 
 
 Father. The same as yours — to get money. You, for a few pence, 
 risk a prison and the treadwheel. I, for the same punishment, specu- 
 late for hundreds of pounds. You are forced to work under the very 
 eyes of the police, therefore, the chances of escape are slight. I 
 choose my own time, and plan my labours so as to render them secure. 
 After ten years' toil, you have perhaps five shillings in your pocket ; 
 I, after a few weeks, have as many hundred pounds. Why do you 
 hesitate to join me ? 
 
 Son (after considering a while). I thought you were up to some 
 such game as this. But don't you see where your calling is worse 
 than mine ? I'm not worth the nabbing ; whilst at this very moment 
 the police are after you. I belong to the small fry, and swim through 
 the meshes of the net ; you are the large fish, and worth being hauled 
 up. You're always being hunted ; I'm not worth the taking. It's 
 very good of you to make the offer, but I'll keep myself to my- 
 self. 
 
 Father. You refuse. Very well ; you have a right to your own 
 opinion. But there is another circumstance that I will mention, 
 and which I hope will alter your determination. 
 
 Son. What is that ? Out with it, I want to be off. 
 
 Father. You are my son. 
 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 347 
 
 Son (staring). Gammon! "What was my mother's name ? 
 
 Father (annoyed that the revelation has not produced more effect). 
 I tell you I am your father. Your mother, calling herself Katherine 
 Merton, died in prison whilst I was in Prance. We were married. 
 
 Son (savagely). Who drove my mother to prison? You deserted 
 her. You left me to die in prison, too, if the parish had not had 
 more pity than a parent. There was a time when I wished to see 
 you. Now I would sooner be alone. Let me go. 
 
 Father (calmly). I did not desert you, Philip. I can refer you to 
 my lawyer to convince you of the many attempts I have made to dis- 
 cover my child. You shall see his bills some day. I was driven 
 from you. A man with a heart of stone has separated father from 
 child. It is he that drove me to my desperate life. The fortune we 
 are entitled to is withheld from us, and, sooner than starve and rot, 
 I — I — I — do anything. 
 
 Son. Who is this man who separated us ? 
 
 Father. Nathaniel Crosier, the father of your murdered mother. 
 
 Son (suddenly remembering the offer that had been made him 
 to emigrate). That sounds true. I know Crosier — an old man, yellow 
 and wrinkled, with a bald head and fluffy hair like a young bird. 
 Why don't you go to law ? 
 
 Father. He knows I dare not. But you can, and you shall. Now 
 will you join me ? Will you allow the wretch who destroyed your 
 mother, who has made us both outcasts, to enjoy the property his 
 roguery has wrested from us ? 
 
 Son (thoughtfully). I'll tell you in two days. But jwait! What 
 name am I to call you by ? 
 
 Father. My real name is Emile Vautrin. At present call me 
 Monsieur Boustache. 
 
 When three days had passed, Vautrin paid the hotel-bill, and, 
 celebrating his reunion with his son by respecting the property in the 
 house, he journeyed to London accompanied by the Duck and Philip. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 LOVE AND VENGEANCE. 
 
 Philip Mebton wore excellent clothes and had plenty of money 
 in his pocket on the night he patronised the travelling circus. He 
 had still better apparel in his trunks at the- hotel where he was 
 staying. Polished-leather boots, velvet waistcoats, shirts with deli- 
 cate fronts, formed portions of his wardrobe. We have before ob- 
 jected to reveal how he employed his leisure and earned the money 
 that made his waistcoat-pocket bulge out. There were notes and 
 golden pieces in that same trunk at the hotel. His father, Vautrin, had 
 
348 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 taught his son many things since they met. But we reserve these 
 disclosures for another chapter, for fear our readers should, in dis- 
 gust, refuse to have anything more to do with so depraved a young 
 man. 
 
 He had followed the beautiful Miss Lucy and her savage maid- 
 servant after they left the circus, resolved to keep close at her heels 
 if she wandered about for a month. The young lady had mingled 
 with the crowd returning to Elbury, but he never missed her once. 
 He saw her moving down the dark lane that leads to the market- 
 place ; watched her raise her dress, and pick her way on tip-toes 
 through the mud, and presently beheld her ring the ostler's-bell at 
 the Royal George, the very hotel at which he was staying. Once he 
 thought she was gazing about, as if to see if lie had pursued her. He 
 hid himself under a doorway, and presently from the stableyard 
 issued a jolting chaise, drawn by a grey ball of a pony that appeared 
 as broad as it was long. Both the female forms took their places, 
 and the animal did its best to trot off. For that night Phil thought it 
 better to give up the chase and go to bed. 
 
 The next morning the ostler had a shilling placed in his big hand. 
 The man had to earn it by answering these questions : " Does Miss 
 Lucy — what the deuce is her other name? — you know — keep the 
 grey pony that was put up here last night ?" — " Green chaise ? — 
 pony, swelled hock ? — one ear cut ?" inquired the ostler. And when 
 Phil on speculation replied, "Ay, that's it!" the fellow continued, 
 " That's Mr. Crow the pork-butcher's, of Hillocks." 
 
 The smitten youth, not liking such parentage for the beautiful 
 Lucy — he had grown proud since he had been told he was of gentle 
 birth — refused to accept this evidence. " JSTo, no," he cried, in 
 disgust ; " a young lady and her maid who went to the circus last 
 
 night; Miss Lucy what is her name ?" A new light illumined 
 
 the ostler's dim brain. " You mean Miss Lucy Grant — of course 
 you do. "Why, their pony ain't got no swelled hock. As sound as 
 a onion, ear and all." — " Ah ! Miss Lucy Grant — that's it !" ex- 
 claimed Phil. Then he inquired if the family were still living in the 
 same place, and was told "it hadn't shifted as was known on." He 
 next tried whether any information could be gleaned by requesting 
 to be shown the nearest route to Miss Grant's residence, and was 
 directed to keep straight on down the Swanborough-road till he came 
 to it. At last he produced half-a-crown, and, to obtain the coin, the 
 ostler told all he knew, describing as well as he could the character 
 and appearance of Lieutenant Grant, E.jST., and the outward signs by 
 which his residence might be distinguished. 
 
 Before any clock of regular habits had struck twelve, Phil had 
 breakfasted, walked three miles, and was inspecting the building for 
 the rent and taxes of which the old sailor was quarterly answerable. 
 He thought the shutters of a pleasant lively green ; he approved of 
 the careful manner in which the climbing roses had been trained about 
 the casements, with the branches bent as regularly as if they had been 
 raked into their places, and the whiteness of the blinds and curtains 
 at the different windows met with his entire approbation. The 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 349 
 
 garden, too (for he passed through the swing iron gate set in a holly- 
 hedge a cannon-ball could not have penetrated), was prettily ar- 
 ranged, and the show of flowers satisfactory. He very soon guessed 
 to whom the little lace collars bleaching on the rose-bushes belonged, 
 and he felt sure the big straw hat on one of the rustic chairs on 
 the lawn was the property of the same young lady. 
 
 A lane ran down one side of the impregnable holly-hedge. There 
 he had a view of the back premises. The savage servant, who lived 
 in the room with a bird-cage and a Dutch-clock, was seen through 
 the window. She had been washing something in the tub on the 
 stone steps. A petticoat, with a delicately-shaped body, was hanging 
 from a line, and, though it was dripping wet from its final rinse, he 
 would have kissed its embroidered hem if he had dared. 
 
 He watched for two days, and only lost his time. He caught sight 
 of the lieutenant's tarpaulin hat, creeping along just above the hedge- 
 top, and in an instant Phil had disappeared in a ditch. He heard a 
 youthful but shrill voice call out " Mary !" and heard a discontented 
 answer of — " What's gone wrong now ?" In the dusk of evening 
 he had entered by a back gate, and, making as little noise as he could 
 on the gravel-walk, crept round to the parlour windows, bub he 
 gained little by peeping, excepting a foreshortened view of the lieu- 
 tenant sleeping on the sofa. There was the model of a ship on a side- 
 table, and a spaniel on the rug that barked violently, but no Miss 
 Lucy. u Where the deuce can she be gone to ?" thought Phil; " she 
 never walks out, or goes into the garden. What a rum girl!" 
 Determined not to be beaten, he devoted yet another day to this 
 search after the Beautiful, but though he twice narrowly escaped 
 falling counter of the vixenish servant, his eyes were never refreshed by 
 the sight of the R.N.'s pretty daughter. The spaniel had become his 
 bitterest enemy. It stood watch at the gate and tried to get at him 
 between the narrow rails. It barked as if trying to blow itself 
 to pieces. If he moved along the hedge, it followed him, yelping 
 and dancing about, as if determined on having his life. Lieu- 
 tenant Grant, E.N., was so astonished at the dog's vivacity, that he 
 on one occasion went to the gate and looked into the road. He only 
 saw a very respectable young gentleman walking rapidly in the direc- 
 tion of Swanborough. So he chided the spaniel, saying, " What's 
 the matter with you, you little fool ! don't you know a gentleman 
 when you see him ?" About five o'clock that evening, patience met 
 with its reward. Phil was thinking seriously of the delicious flavour 
 of well-cooked animal food, when he beheld — and trembled as he 
 beheld — a large straw hat moving among the trees in the orchard. 
 He bounded down the lane, and, in less than a moment, was stretch- 
 ing his neck and jumping his highest to see over the hedge. The 
 face, shaded by the large hat, did certainly look very lovely. 
 
 She was reading, holding the book in a blue-veined hand, with a 
 turquoise ring on the second finger. As the hedge became less and 
 less dense, he saw her red lips move and her round chin work up 
 and down as she repeated to herself the words of the author. He felt 
 he must speak to her if he were killed for it. " How do you do, Miss 
 Lucy ?" he gasped out. 
 
350 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 She looked up, and answered, " How do you do ? Won't you step 
 in and see papa ?" 
 
 He thought this was odd, and, objecting to the invitation, replied, 
 " I have not seen you since we met at the circus ; have you been 
 ill?" 
 
 Then she seemed to be aware that the voice was that of a stranger, 
 for she advanced to the hedge and looked through. " I don't know 
 you — go away!" was the only answer he obtained to his kind in- 
 quiries. 
 
 The spaniel, as his mistress retired, took up the quarrel, and, 
 forcing itself through the stumps of the hedge trees, flew round and 
 round Phil's legs, as if it was examining them to discover the best 
 place for biting. "Love me, love my dog," muttered Phil; "but, 
 until then, hang me if I stand this cur's nonsense." He first took off 
 his hat and flung it at the animal. The dog seized it in a moment, 
 and began to shake and batter it on the ground. But suddenly a 
 coat was thrown over the little thing, and, before it could squeak out 
 for help, Phil was running as fast as he could across the fields. A few 
 knocks on the head and the spaniel was frightened into subjection, 
 and even began to lick the hand of its new proprietor. 
 
 " There may be advantages to be gained with this yelping pet. To- 
 morrow," thought Phil, " bills will be out offering a reward. I'll 
 keep it for a week, and then enter the house in triumph with the 
 little brute in my arms." A man on whom Phil could depend (he 
 knew many curious characters whom nobody but himself dared trust) 
 undertook to keep the spaniel in a safe place, away from eye and ear. 
 In a back cellar of the " Gun and Crow" did the faithful animal 
 throughout the night lift up its head and whine without ever disturb- 
 ing the repose of any living creatures except the rats that dwelt among 
 the beer-barrels. 
 
 When Phil returned to his hotel, he was told a friend of his, in the 
 coffee-room, had been making inquiries after him. He was completely 
 " taken aback" when he beheld his father seated near the fire with a 
 decanter of sherry by his side. The son had grown to love his sire, 
 so their meeting was affectionate. Unless he had received a look, 
 Phil would have addressed him as " Father," but Vautrin's quick 
 eye stopped the word. When they were presently in a private room, 
 dining together, the Frenchman cautioned his son on this subject, 
 saying, " Everybody is aware it is a wise father that knows his own 
 child, but remember, too, it is a confoundedly clever child that at 
 times doesn't know its own father. Tour name is Merton, mine is 
 Boustache." 
 
 Vautrin had come down more for pleasure than business. Ever 
 since Mrs. Crosier' s death, the family had been away from the house 
 at Swanborough. As Elbury was only some six miles distant from 
 the banker's residence, Vautrin — to amuse himself, he said— -had 
 determined on visiting the birthplace of his " dear wife, to see if it 
 was the same old rickety pile as when he knew it." The strangest 
 fancy he expressed in connexion with this trip was, that they should 
 visit the place by night. " The building is highly picturesque," said 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 351 
 
 Vautrin, " and in a strong moonlight really a pretty sight. I should 
 like you to see it, Phil." 
 
 Father and son stayed together, passing the time very agreeably 
 for three days, when a letter arrived for " Mr. Boustache," and, after 
 reading it, Vautrin said he must return to London on the morrow, 
 bo they would go to Swanborough that night. They left the hotel 
 after an early dinner, resolved on walking the distance. But, before 
 they had gone two miles, Yautrin was fortunate enough to meet — 
 quite accidentally, as he remarked — at a roadside beerhouse, two 
 friends of his, who promised, if he would drink away an hour or so, 
 to drive him over to Swanborough in their own trap, and even back 
 again if his time were precious. " It's better than walking," an- 
 swered Phil. " Much," added Vautrin ; " and infinitely preferable to 
 being thirsty." 
 
 Although a common beershop, the people sold excellent spirits, and 
 were excessively friendly and attentive. Phil had smoked innumer- 
 able pipes and emptied more glasses than he could count, when (about 
 eleven o'clock) the horse was ordered to be put to. Off they drove, not 
 at a rapid pace, for the beast appeared worn-out and stiff, as if it had 
 been that day overdriven, but with whipping and pulling at the reins 
 they made it hobble along. 
 
 I£ Crosier had been a nobleman instead of a banker he could 'not 
 have lived in better style or in a better mansion. The party in the 
 chaise with the hobbling horse saw the building half a mile off from 
 the road, a grey, solemn pile, surrounded by black trees. "Well did 
 Vautrin know the property and the grounds. He told the driver 
 which turning to take so as not to arouse the man who slept in the 
 lodge ; he guided them up lanes with deep ruts, in which the chaise 
 bumped till the springs were nearly broken ; and eventually they 
 stopped at a field gate which, he told them, led to the back premises 
 of the mansion. 
 
 Here they alighted, and, tying the horse to a tree, onward they 
 went, Vautrin leading the way through orchards, down dark filbert- 
 walks, round by reed-covered ponds, across rustic bridges, past green- 
 houses^and cucumber-frames, till they arrived at an iron gate which, 
 after a vigorous kick on the rusty lock, opened. Now they were in 
 the garden, standing in front of the building with its big stone bay- 
 windows, peaked roofs, and tall Elizabethan chimneys. 
 
 " That's where your poor mother was born," said Vautrin, with 
 pride. Then, he added, savagely, " By G — d, it shall be ours some 
 day, if we have any chance." 
 
 Next they visited the outbuildings, Vautrin still acting as leader. 
 They heard the horses stamping in the stables, and one of the friends 
 remarked, " Lots of prads, Erenchy, if we want them." A big dog, 
 which had been barking violently, dashed to the full length of its 
 chain at the trespassers ; but Vautrin advanced to it fearlessly, and 
 threw it something which had the effect of instantly quieting its 
 anger and rendering it harmless as a kitten. Every door in the 
 building Vautrin knew as thoroughly as his alphabet. That one led 
 to the sculleries ; that one to the kitchen, another to the wood-house. 
 
352 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 "Where's the winder you spoke of?" inquired one of the friends. 
 Then their cicerone conducted them to a casement, shuttered and 
 barred, but only a few feet from the ground. " It used to be a 
 servant's bedroom," said he, "but there's nobody sleeps there 
 now." 
 
 " Shall we star the glaze and see what the inside's like ?" asked 
 one of the friends. 
 
 "Well, there's no harm in it, is there, Phil?" answered Vautrin, 
 turning to his son, who was puzzling his brains to discover the inten- 
 tion of these men. However, no time was given to any of them to 
 discuss the question, for a scream, which made them fall back in 
 alarm, gave proof sufficient that the room was tenanted by some' one 
 who, even if unarmed, carried a well-charged throat about her 
 person. .. 
 
 That morning Helen Crosier and two of the servants had returned 
 to Swanborough to prepare the house for her father, who was to follow 
 them in a few days. She had felt alarmed at being left alone in so 
 large a dwelling with only one man and a woman for its protection, 
 and had persuaded the maid to occupy this chamber, which from its 
 proximity to the ground was the only one through which an entrance 
 could easily be effected. When she heard the scream, Helen Crosier, 
 instead of fainting, proceeded to ring vigorously at her bell to rouse 
 the man sleeping above, and, then rushing into her father's room, 
 took down a gun which was always kept loaded above the mantel- 
 piece. Like a brave Amazon she flung open the window, and, seeing a 
 man standing on the grass-plot before the principal entrance, fired. 
 
 Of course she did not hit him, but if, instead of falling backwards 
 in an almost senseless condition, she had stretched forth her neck 
 and listened, she still would have heard one voice cry out, " Here ! 
 help me ! I'm in for it !" and another instantly rejoin, " By Gr — d, 
 boy, don't say that! — mind, catch him, or he'll fall!" 
 
 The old jaded horse was made to gallop as fast as if he had not 
 trotted a mile that day, for Vautrin, holding the butt-end of the 
 whip, beat its loins each time its pace flagged. And between the 
 blow r s he turned to look at Phil, and tell him to hold up, for "he 
 should have some brandy soon, and be all right again." 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 353 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 VAUTRIN GIVES HIS SON PHYSIC AND ADVICE. 
 
 Yautrin was one of those iron-hearted, far-seeing rogues, who, 
 even in the most desperate reverses, never permit themselves to lose 
 courage until the chances of escape have been carefully weighed 
 against those of capture. Fortune had so often broken him on her 
 wheel that he had grown accustomed to the persecution. He seemed 
 to know the exact point where danger began and security ended. 
 His pulse did not beat a throb the faster when he heard his son call 
 out for help. Until the wound could be examined, he considered it 
 childish to give way to fear. 
 
 His friends, less self-possessed than their leader, had, when they 
 saw Philip totter and nearly fall to the ground, rushed to the youth 
 with the view of carrying him off as rapidly as possible. Yautrin 
 calmly checked their haste. " Curse you, where's your hurry," he 
 said, pushing them back. " It will be at least twenty minutes before 
 the neighbours are aroused. Don't let us fly off like a lot of crows 
 because a gun is fired." 
 
 He took from his neck a thick woollen comforter, and bound it 
 around Philip's bleeding shoulder ; then he placed a heavy rough 
 great-coat about the shivering body. "Now," he said, turning to 
 his nervous companions — " now you may take him. Follow me as 
 fast as you can. No blood can trickle through all those coverings. 
 They will have to guess at the path we have chosen, and not be able 
 to track us at once, as you seemed by your confounded haste to 
 prefer." 
 
 Instead of returning by the route they had come, Vautrin ordered 
 the horse's head to be turned in an opposite direction. Wherever 
 the sides of the road were covered with turf, the chaise was guided 
 into it, so that the wheel-marks might be lost. 
 
 At first the two friends imagined, from finding themselves in a 
 different part of the country, that Yautrin had mistaken his way. 
 Yet the influence the Frenchman possessed over his assistants was so 
 great that some time elapsed before either of them dared to suggest 
 he was in error. Yautrin gave his directions in so positive a manner 
 that his friends could hardly imagine he was straying. At last one 
 of them found courage enough to say, " What's your game, Frenchy ? 
 Here's the boy pretty near a croaker, and the prad will be bow-wow's 
 meat if he has to hoof it much further, and yet, instead of getting to 
 some libb-ken, on the main-toper, where a drop of lap could be had, 
 you're sticking to the back drums as if we was come out to see how 
 the crops was getting on. What's your lurk?" "No answer was 
 given, but it seemed as if Yautrin heard the question, for he fell to 
 beating the horse savagely. The two men, annoyed at being treated 
 with such evident contempt, grumbled together threateningly. 
 
 2 a 
 
354 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 " D — n it, he seems to think I was a dog barking," said the last 
 speaker ; to which the other added, " "When chaps come out with chaps, 
 I'm for haffability. "We're all eggs in the same nest, and should be 
 treated like ways." 
 
 Presently Vautrin, who had taken the reins, drove down a lane, 
 just wide enough to allow the chaise to pass through. The brambles 
 on each side scratched against the panels and had to be thrust aside 
 to protect the faces of the occupants. At the end of this narrow way 
 was a dismal-looking cottage, before the door of which the vehicle drew 
 up so closely to the wall that Yautrin, by standing on the driving-box, 
 was enabled to tap at a window, about the size of a school slate, in 
 the thatch. " Come down, Tom, and bring a lantern," he said to a 
 rough head, which was, after a little squeezing, thrust from the case- 
 ment. 
 
 Now the two men were in ecstasies of delight with the deep cunning 
 of their foreign friend. They felt that pursuit was out of the ques- 
 tion. If any search were made after them it would be on the high- 
 way, between Swanborough and Elbury. It astonished them, too, 
 that Vautrin should not only know of this humble hiding-place, but 
 have sufficient power over the owner to wake him out of his sleep and 
 order him about like a servant. 
 
 The simple fact was, that the Frenchman, accustomed whenever he 
 visited England to run down to Swanborough and have a look at the 
 banker's premises, felt a savage pleasure in walking about his father- 
 in-law's grounds, and growling out curses against the old man. He 
 laboured under the idea that he was himself entitled to that rich 
 domain. "When those visits took place he usually put up — not wish- 
 ing that his presence should be known — at the humble abode owned 
 by the rough-headed Tom. The man was a gardener by trade, and, 
 as he expressed it, kept himself to himself. 
 
 The horse was stabled, and corn enough heaped up in the manger 
 to have stocked a baker's shop. A bottle of spirits was placed on the 
 table, the men lighted their pipes, and Tom was requested to retire 
 to his bed. They were afraid to examine Phil's wound in the gar- 
 dener's presence for fear it might furnish some clue to their detec- 
 tion. Phil's pale face and looks of agony were accounted for by " a 
 fall from the chaise." 
 
 When the confederates were alone, Philip's clothes were removed 
 and his shoulder examined. They felt about the wound, and pressed 
 it in every direction, endeavouring to discover where the bullet had 
 lodged. This rough surgical treatment caused much agony, but Phil 
 never once uttered a sound of pain. His father was constantly 
 reminding him " not to howl out and wake the fellow up-stairs." 
 
 The gardener in his bed heard many strange sounds as he tried to 
 get to sleep again. Men went into the garden and fetched water 
 from the pump. There was a noise of tearing linen, and a bucket 
 was emptied into the manure heap, near the pigsty. He wondered 
 what all the stir was about, and inwardly wished folk would wash their 
 hands at proper times and places. 
 
 All the three men agreed that Phil's wound was nothing. The 
 youth was the only person who differed from this opinion. He went 
 so far as to tell them that if they " had it," they would think it some- 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 355 
 
 thing, and a good deal to spare. The injury was pronounced a flesh 
 wound, which would heal up as tight as wax and be better than new 
 in less than a week. 
 
 "When the gardener rose at five o'clock in the morning, he was 
 astonished to find the gentlemen seated round the fire and deep in 
 conversation. He saw by the manner in which the voices ceased as 
 he entered the room that his absence was desired, so, casting a look at 
 the young gentleman who had "fallen from the chaise," he left the 
 room, wondering why they hadn't put the youth to bed instead of 
 giving him three hard wooden chairs to sleep upon. 
 
 Vautrin, alias Boustache, had been consulting with his friends 
 about what they had better do on the morrow. They had come to 
 the conclusion that the father and son should remain at the cottage, 
 whilst the other two returned to town with the chaise. In this 
 peculiar instance the two friends felt convinced that the longest 
 way round was, if not the shortest way home, at least the safest. A 
 journey of considerable length had been mapped out so that they 
 might avoid passing near Swanborough or Elbury. At mid-day the 
 stiff-legged horse was brought out and harnessed to the clean-washed 
 chaise, and, a mug of strong beer having been poured down the animal's 
 throat, the friends drove away. 
 
 For a fortnight the Frenchman remained at the gardener's cottage, 
 watching over Phil. He dressed the wound himself,' and did all he 
 could to heal it without the necessity of calling in a doctor. Herbs, 
 poultices, and cold bathings were applied in rapid succession. 
 Gradually the maimed limb grew to be sound. It was tedious work 
 for a man of such active life as Vautrin to have to watch by a sick- 
 bed, but he never appeared restless or tired. "Whilst the fever was 
 on, he seldom quitted the youth for a second. He made for him 
 various infusions of different plants, similar to those given in such 
 cases in France. He never even seemed to sleep, for if ever Phil 
 awoke in the night the first thing he saw was his father sitting at the 
 foot of the bedstead, watching him with a solemn, anxious face. 
 Their eyes would sometimes meet, and remain staring at each other, 
 but very little was spoken on either side. 
 
 One day, when Phil was nearly well enough to rise, he asked Vau- 
 trin what he had been thinking about so intently these many days 
 past. 
 
 " How I can pay off the long score I owe these Crosiers !" answered 
 the man. 
 
 " Let 'em alone," suggested Phil, too exhausted to feel much ani- 
 mosity. " They're not worth the bother." 
 
 " Let 'em alone!" roared Vautrin, hitting the bedclothes with his 
 fists. " Let 'em alone ! I tell you, I'll never leave them until I have 
 that old man on his knees, begging for his life. I will make him dis- 
 gorge the money he has robbed us of, whilst I hold him tightly at the 
 throat, with my fingers biting into his flesh like hooks." Suiting his 
 action to his words, he seized Philip's ankle, and squeezed it so hard, 
 that the youth gasped out, 
 
 " Do what you like to Crosier, but don't break my bones !" 
 
 "When Phil was nearly well enough to venture once more into the 
 
 2 a2 
 
356 PAYED "WITH GOLD. 
 
 wide world, bis father, as they were at dinner, asked him, " Who that 
 girl was he raved about in his fever ?" 
 
 " Did I talk about a girl?" answered Phil, evasively. 
 
 " Yes, a girl of the name of Lucy," coolly replied the parent. 
 " "Who is she, and where did you pick her up ?" 
 
 [For some time the youth endeavoured to avoid the desired explana- 
 tion, but Vautrin pressed his examination as roughly and closely as 
 an Old Bailey barrister, and nothing short of a direct refusal could 
 have put an end to the inquiry. At last, the son gave a modified 
 account of his adventure at the circus, and his subsequent and most 
 unsatisfactory interview with the hard-hearted maiden herself. 
 
 " Does the father look as if he had any cash ?" asked Vautrin, w r hen 
 the love tale was ended. 
 
 Phil gave a favourable description of the cottage, and further added 
 that, at Elbury, the old lieutenant was considered to be well to do, and 
 of easy circumstances. 
 
 "Why don't you marry the girl?" said Vautrin. 
 
 Philip laughed. "That's very easy to say," he answered; "but 
 how am I to keep a wife ?" 
 
 " Didn't you say her father was well off?" asked Vautrin, with a 
 look of astonishment, as if he considered the question one of extreme 
 simplicity. " What more do you want ? I'll lend you enough to go 
 on with at first. In about six months you can make the old fellow 
 stump up." 
 
 " I tell you I don't know the family. I've only seen the girl at a 
 circus and over a hedge," expostulated Phil. " I've never once been 
 inside the house. How can I ask her to marry me ? She'd laugh in 
 my face!" 
 
 This was spoken in the hopes of putting an end to the conversa- 
 tion, for Phil had already planned and arranged how he was to obtain 
 a footing among the Grant household. 
 
 " It's a good chance for you," continued the obstinate parent, " and 
 you are a fool if you let it slip by. If they want to know who you 
 are, tell them plainly you are Merton Vautrin, Crosier's grandchild. 
 He's known all about here, and that alone will make a swell of you. 
 They'll fancy you're full of money, and take to you directly. I'll send 
 you down a copy of your mother's marriage certificate, in case there 
 should be any dispute. At any rate, stop a month in Elbury, and see 
 how matters go on. With that damaged shoulder, you're not fit for 
 town work yet. Keep your pluck up, and go in and win." 
 
 This was consoling to Phil, and set his brain to work thinking over 
 the feasibility of the plan. It was true he was the rich banker's 
 grandchild, but he knew it was a deceit to make use of the relation- 
 ship, where the education, respectability, and honesty which such a 
 statement implied were wanting. Boasting is a leaky saucepan, and 
 sooner or later the truth drips out. If at any time it should be whis- 
 pered that, besides being a banker's grandchild, he had been a work- 
 house bird, a tramp, and a street beggar, he considered the blood of the 
 Crosiers, however good it might be, would fail to give a healthy com- 
 plexion to such blackness. 
 
 Vautrin almost forgot all about his sworn vengeance against the 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 357 
 
 banker in the interest he took in the new scheme of his son's mar- 
 riage. As they sat one on each side of the gardener's bricken hearth, 
 their thoughts were continually occupied by this one subject. Some- 
 times, after more than an hour's long silence, the father would look up 
 and say, " If they were to ask old Crosier any questions he would 
 be afraid to tell the truth.'' 
 
 To this Phil would reply, after about half an hour's consideration, 
 " Suppose they did, and the old man was to split on me, what then ?" 
 Instead of giving a speedy reply, Vautrin would stare at the wood 
 fire, and long afterwards, as if he had looked deeply into the matter, 
 answer, " He'll keep his mouth shut for his own sake. Besides, he'd 
 be glad to get you respectably settled. Go in and win. The world 
 lies before you as smooth as a garden- walk." 
 
 " Suppose they found out I had been smashing"* Phil whispered, 
 after carefully looking around the apartment. 
 
 " If that were possible," retorted the parent, " the police would 
 have made the discovery long since. Don't be afraid of that. You 
 are a timid blade." 
 
 " "Well, but suppose they did ?" urged the son. 
 
 " And what harm could it do you, if you are married to her ?" re- 
 torted the father. " Do you fancy the girl's father would call in a con- 
 stable and give you up ? Why, he'd be the very first to use all his en- 
 deavours to keep the matter dark. Don't be such a fool. Marry 
 the girl, and your future is an easy one." 
 
 "When the wounded shoulder was healed, when Phil was strong 
 enough to bear the weight of his coat-sleeve, and carry his arm with- 
 out a support, Yautrin spoke of returning to London. " The Duck, as 
 you call Drake, will be turning traitor, and offering to become Queen's 
 evidence against me," he said, laughing, " unless I'm there to keep his 
 cowardly heart in subjection." There was also a very urgent reason 
 why Phil should speedily make his appearance at the hotel in Elbury. 
 
 " Suppose they should think I have bolted, and break open my 
 trunks ?" he faltered out. " That would about cook me up. They'd 
 find enough there to put an end to my hopes of marriage." 
 
 He knew that the false bottom to his portmanteau contained more 
 than sufficient to ensure at least seven years of punishment. 
 
 On the day that father and son parted, Yautrin, as he affectionately 
 squeezed the youth's hand, said, " Send me a letter as soon as you 
 can, Phil, telling me how you get on with this girl." 
 
 " Suppose I don't get on ?" faltered the son. 
 
 " Confound you, boy ! You have always got some ' suppose' or 
 other to fling in my face," replied Yautrin, passionately. " You talk 
 as if you didn't want to win the wench. Make up your mind to get 
 hold of her, and you're sure to do it. You haven't one half my 
 spirit, rot you, or you wouldn't talk in that faint way. Now, look at 
 me. I have sworn to have old Crosier down on his knees cringing at 
 my feet, and begging for his very life. That's a harder task than 
 yours. I doubt if the old man kneels even when he says his prayers, 
 such is his cursed pride. Now, you've got a girl to deal with. You 
 
 * Passing counterfeit, money. 
 
358 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 ought to be married and have a child on your knee by this time next 
 year, if you keep your wits about you. Come, Phil, try and cram a 
 little more devil into your pasty head, and go to work as if you had 
 some of your father's pluck in your body." 
 
 So they parted : the father mourning, as he went his way, that his 
 boy took too much after his mother in disposition ; and Phil deter- 
 mined, "if he swung for it," to make Lucy Grant change her name 
 to Lucy Vautrin before she was a month older. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 SHOWING HOW PHILIP MADE VAST SUMS OF MONEY. 
 
 When a youth, whose father is not in nourishing circumstances, 
 is found to be in the possession of round sums of money ; when he 
 has no evident occupation, yet wears such clothes as become a 
 Regent-street dandy ; when his linen is of fine texture and frequently 
 washed ; when he can sport his bottle of wine with the best of the 
 company, it is not an unfrequent thing to inquire how that youth 
 manages to live in such good style, and who suffers for the expendi- 
 ture. If Philip had been bothered by such an awkward question he 
 would have avoided all chances of committing himself by giving the 
 most impudent reply he could, in the hurry of the moment, invent. 
 "When he liked, he could be very abusive. If, in his milder moments, 
 he had chosen to enter into any explanation of the singular pheno- 
 menon, he might have hinted that a lady of fortune had fallen in love 
 with him, and placed her bulky purse at his disposal, or, giving Na- 
 thaniel Crosier, Esq., credit for more charity than his whole life could 
 afford evidence of, he might have asserted he was indebted to the old 
 banker for his plentiful income. Eut, alas ! it was neither the grand- 
 father nor the lady of fortune who had to suffer for Philip's extra- 
 vagance of living. It was from the tradesmen of Great Britain that 
 the youth drew his large resources. They were the victims that fur- 
 nished him with the luxuries and means he sported to such advantage. 
 In a few words, Philip had turned passer of bad money, or, to use the 
 slang of his class, " smasher." 
 
 A very terrible scene had taken place between the young man and 
 his father shortly after their meeting at Derby. The old offender 
 against society had laboured hard to drag his offspring down to his 
 own level— to rub and daub him with the same vicious filth which 
 debased his own nature. It was fearful, indeed, to see this Vautrin 
 tempting his child to adopt a craft which was to be his soul's ruin. 
 It is true this man laughed at the world, and called honesty un- 
 detected fraud ; it is true he considered robbery as only an unre- 
 cognised profession ; yet in his heart he had an impulsive knowledge 
 of right and wrong, which made him easily distinguish between crime 
 and virtue. 
 
 The only being he loved in the world was Philip. Every day he 
 grew more and more delighted with his boy. He gloried in the 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 359 
 
 strength of his child's stout arm, and would make him double it up 
 that the muscles might be more visible. He would look in Phil's 
 face and criticise the features, until he felt proud of having so comely 
 a, son. ♦ 
 
 He considered it as a personal compliment if, as arm-in-arm they 
 walked the streets, anybody looked at the handsome countenance. 
 He could almost laugh with pride that such notice should be taken 
 of his offspring, and unconsciously repeated to him such phrases as, 
 " I made him — he's mine," or, " Tou had better look again, sir ; it 
 will be a long time before you see such another." Then why did 
 Vautrin design such evil against the youth ? 
 ^ The truth was, Vautrin feared his son. He had taken a sudden 
 affection to him, and with men of his stamp such affections are violent 
 and uncontrollable. With his love was mingled a jealous feeling lest 
 any circumstance should separate him from his son. Up to that time, 
 he knew that, of the two, the youth's life had, although less lucrative, 
 been immeasurably the more honourable and upright. It is not, 
 therefore, very difficult to understand how depraved and vicious must 
 have been Vautrin's existence. It was a constant dread lest Phil 
 should by any means become acquainted with his parent's evil courses, 
 and turn from him in horror, that harassed and annoyed Vautrin. 
 In their daily converse, the youth would occasionally speak boldly 
 upon certain immoralities of the world, and seemed to possess a strong 
 consciousness of honesty. Vautrin trembled whenever Phil moralised. 
 The rudely-conceived and badly-expressed notions of virtue had more 
 effect upon his mind than the best-worded sermon ever preached 
 from a pulpit. A savage resolve entered the man's breast, that, if his 
 boy should attempt to turn from him, he would, " if he swung for 
 it," take back the life he had begotten, rather than be deserted and 
 despised. 
 
 This Vautrin conceived that the only effectual method of binding 
 his son tightly to himself was to make him as wicked as his sire. He 
 would make him a bird of his feather, and ensure their nocking toge- 
 ther. When he had rendered the boy as base as himself, then a 
 sympathy would spring up between them. It was a work of time, 
 thought Vautrin, but a sure policy. So this fellow calmly prepared 
 himself to demoralise his child. He, as it were, held the ladder to 
 steady it, lest his son, in climbing up to the gallows, should fall and 
 escape his doom. 
 
 He seized every opportunity of instilling his own doctrines into 
 Phil's mind. If he took up a copy of a newspaper, he had several 
 remarks, all relating to his dishonest philosophy, to make upon the 
 events. " A good list of bankrupts," he would mutter, as his eye 
 glanced down the column ; " one for 60,000?., another for 30,000Z. 
 Go on, noble British merchants, that's the way to rob !" Then he 
 would turn to the police reports, and, finding an account of a man 
 who, for stealing a piece of cloth, was sent to prison for three months, 
 grow purple with indignation, and exclaim, "That's justice, is it! 
 Here is one scoundrel steals goods to the amount of 30,000/., and 
 another who pilfers a mere remnant valued at four shillings. The one 
 
360 PAVED WITJJ GOLD. 
 
 is sent back to his home cleared of his debt, and placed in a position 
 which enables him to rob again on the morrow. The other, who 
 turned thief to get food, perhaps, is packed off to a prison to come 
 out, after three months, a branded reprobate. Which of the two, 
 now, do you call the rogue, eh, Phil ?" 
 
 The boy, of course, agreed with his father that the prig, compared 
 to the bankrupt, was an angel of purity. He gave no credit to the 
 charity of the law, which can only judge of men's actions by the in- 
 tentions that prompted them, but, as loudly as his father, denounced 
 the justice dealt out in these two reported cases as being a scandal 
 and disgrace to the land. 
 
 " Never rob trifles, my boy," Vautrin would say to his child. " I 
 always attack the world with its own wisdom, and act according to 
 its wise maxims. Now they tell you that it is equally criminal 
 whether you steal a brass farthing or a thousand golden sovereigns. 
 My common sense therefore tells me, that although it may be the same 
 thing to my soul, it isn't to my pocket, so I aim at the thousands." 
 
 To laugh at evil is to sanction it ; Phil now certainly adopted that 
 of his father, for he roared at the cunning of the argument, until his 
 iaw felt cramped. 
 
 Another of Vautrin' s methods of argument was this. He would 
 stop his boy in the street, and, pointing first to some warmly-clad and 
 evidently prosperous man, riding comfortably in his carriage, say, " Do 
 you see that rich-looking old rogue, lolling in his confounded equi- 
 page ?" Then he would point to some ragged, half-starved bone- 
 grubber, and add, " And do you see that poor, crushed, dirt-stained 
 fellow ?" Of course, Phil duly acknowledged that both his eyes were 
 in due working order. " And now," Vautrin would ask, as he frowned, 
 " will you tell me what right that old overfed rogue has to be pulled 
 about by a couple of horses, when that miserable mortal has not per- 
 haps breakfasted ?" If Phil did not make any attempts to solve this 
 problem, Vautrin would add, " That fat citizen has his hot joints and 
 full decanters, and, eat and drink as he will, he can empty neither 
 dish nor bottle ; and, if he did, he would have but to sign his name to 
 a slip of paper, and at the first flourish of the cheque, up would come 
 carts laden with provisions for his use. By what right has he such 
 plenty and that street-worm so little ? Do you consider, now, that 
 there is any crime in the starving brother putting his hand into the 
 pocket of the glutton brother/and helping himself to food for at least 
 one day's eating?" This sounded very noble and philosophic, and 
 Phil considered there would be no great evil in such an act. He was 
 deceived by the glitter of his parent's logic. It was the first time he 
 had heard such arguments, and they overpowered his reason. Vet, 
 although he had many silver coins in his pocket, he never for once 
 thought of parting with one of them to the bone-grubber. 
 
 As father and son were constantly together, and every day at least 
 one of these devil's sermons was delivered, the youth's immoral train- 
 ing progressed rapidly. From being repeatedly told that robbery was 
 the great principle of life, and that it was no sin for the needy to take 
 from the rich, Phil became firmly impressed with the truthfulness of 
 the doctrine. It was a kind of philosophy which a lazy youth was 
 likely to take to kindly. The drudgery of a desk, the slavery of from 
 
PAVED WITII GOLD. 361 
 
 nine till eight, seemed very distressing, when placed alongside of one 
 brilliant exploit per diem, and a full pocket. 
 
 "When the boy had become thoroughly accustomed to good feeding, 
 good lodging, and good clothing, Vautrin turned upon him suddenly, 
 and, stating that his resources were at an end, asked what he intended 
 to do for his future living. This staggered the youth. "You have 
 several careers in the world open before you. You may go back to 
 cadging, if you like, or I'll try and get you a post as a porter, or per- 
 haps as junior clerk, where you may earn your honest SOI. annually. 
 What do you think of doing ? I must myself set about something, 
 for I'm cleared out." 
 
 " What are you going to do ?" ventured the boy. 
 
 " What I do does not concern you," answered Vautrin, whilst his 
 heart was beating with fear lest the boy should be of the same opinion. 
 "I earn a good living in a very curious manner. I hold peculiar 
 tenets of my own which I don't wish you to adopt. I cannot live on 
 bread-and-cheese dinners, or wear only one shirt a month. You must 
 take your chance in the world away from me." 
 
 " Why ?" returned Phil, in a miserable tone. " Why cannot I be 
 at the same business as you ?" 
 
 " Because," said Vautrin, "you are made of different stuff to me. 
 I see no crime in helping myself to the necessities the world would, if 
 I begged for them till my tongue withered, refuse me." 
 
 Then followed a long speech, in which the wily tempter made use of 
 his favourite illustrations of the rights and wrongs of property. He 
 launched out into a splendid description of the happy life he led, of 
 the luxuries he indulged in, and the slight risk he ran. As Phil 
 heard all this his interest grew intense, and, although he half guessed 
 the solution of the riddle, he was greatly anxious to be thoroughly 
 assured of the peculiar character of the business so profitable to his 
 parent. 
 
 And when at last Vautrin, in a frank voice, confessed openly that 
 he was a malefactor and systematic outrager of the laws of the land ; 
 that he robbed and plundered for his existence ; when he added, in a 
 bold tone, that " he was not ashamed to confess it," styling himself, in 
 a grandiloquent manner, " one of the captains of the standing army 
 of poverty, who fought the everlasting war of want with their 
 enemies, the rich" — when he did this, Phil, instead of drawing back 
 in fear, only looked on his parent with wonder, in which there was a 
 strong admixture of admiration. In the end, Phil enlisted under this 
 pauper captain, and was told that with a little drilling he would rise 
 rapidly in the service. 
 
 .Now that no disguises of speech were necessary, Vautrin spoke 
 openly. He felt he loved his son more dearly than ever for sharing 
 with him the wickednesses of the world. He vowed to protect him, and 
 save him from all danger of detection. He would in the hour of peril 
 snatch him from the very grasp of the policeman, if necessary. Philip 
 was to thrive and be merry. " By-and-by," added Vautrin, " when 
 the pile of wealth is tall enough to satisfy us, we will retire from work 
 and mix with the world. It will receive us, my boy, with open arms, 
 as soon as we can rattle our money-box in its face. We will sing out 
 1 honesty' to the jingle of our purse, and that's the only music to 
 
362 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 which the world's song should be sung. "When people find we 
 are rich enough to be worthy of being robbed, they will ask us to 
 come over to their side and scowl at the thieves. As soon as we con- 
 vince our neighbours that we have no desire to plunder them they 
 will dub us honest. How I do enjoy the virtue of this world. 
 Answer me this, Phil: if cheating left its mark on the face, as 
 the small-pox does, how many men would pass you in the day with 
 an unscarred countenance ? Ha, ha ! it's the greatest swindle ever 
 started." 
 
 Terrible and depressing as this may sound, Phil saw no horror in 
 it, but lifted up his voice and laughed note for note with his parent. 
 
 Before many days had passed, the son had to take his first lesson in 
 roguery. Vautrin told him the largest profits were to be made 
 by passing off bad money. " Smashing is easy work, and pays well," 
 said the parent. " I couldn't do it, I am too old. My face has a 
 peculiar hard expression in it, which alarms people. They would 
 never forget me. But with you, your features are changing every day ; 
 even a week alters your looks. It's your first appearance in London, 
 too, and the police do not know you. You have a safe two years' 
 work before you, without creating the slightest suspicion. I shall 
 take you off then, and put you to something else. You have a genteel 
 manner, and a voice that has a hearty upright ring in it. Yes, for at 
 least two years, you are as safe as London-bridge." 
 
 To initiate the novice in his new calling, Vautrin accompanied him 
 on his first swindling expedition. They entered a public-house and 
 called for two glasses of hot brandy-and-water. Asking " how much," 
 Vautrin flung down a good sovereign, making it rebound high into 
 the air from the metal counter, and send forth the peculiar sound of 
 genuine golden coin. The barman took the sovereign, examined it, 
 and was on the point of giving the proper change, when Phil, turn- 
 ing to his father, said, " Where is the use of your changing a sove- 
 reign to pay for eightpence ? Let me stand the drink." The barman, 
 hearing this, returned the golden piece to Vautrin. On hunting in 
 his pockets, however, Philip discovers that " after all he has not enough 
 silver," so Vautrin once more tenders the sovereign ; but thistime 
 it is not the genuine, but a counterfeit piece — one that has been dex- 
 terously concealed up the sleeve. The serving-man, angry at having 
 his time wasted, and having no suspicion of his customers, snatches at 
 the gold, and, without considering it worthy of a second examination, 
 rapidly counts out the necessary silver. Not until the till is emptied, 
 before the landlord goes to bed, is the fraud discovered. In perform- 
 ing this act, Vautrin pointed out to his boy that a little legerdemain 
 was required, and with great good-humour favoured his pupil with the 
 instruction necessary to perfect the performer. 
 
 For an entire week did the father and son work together, and the 
 profits were enormous. In one evening they practised this same 
 cheat at eight taverns. As Phil was, being a beginner, nervous, and 
 showed his fright in his countenance, Vautrin, before they left home, 
 rouged with a light delicate hand the youth's cheeks, so that their 
 pallor might not excite attention. " Now," said the parent,»as he re- 
 turned the carmine to the drawer — " now you may go as white as an 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 363 
 
 egg, but you can't frighten the colour out of c slap.' That's the stuff. 
 Just enough to cover your finger-tip, and you look as bold as a Bank 
 of England beadle." 
 
 It was Vautrin's practice never to remain long in any neigh- 
 bourhood when he had been successful. He hailed a cab as he left 
 the public-house, and invariably placed a mile between himself 
 and his victims. "When engaged at this rogue's work, Vautrin made 
 a purse of his mouth, and carried the illegal coin tucked in the hollow 
 of his cheek. Long practice enabled him to speak with great dis- 
 tinctness even though half a dozen of these worthless pieces were 
 resting against his tongue. The speech was not thickened, nor did 
 the metal jingle. 
 
 The care this parent took of his child, whilst he taught him his 
 evil courses, was pathetic to witness. He never trusted him alone 
 at the work. No bird teaching its young one to use its inexperienced 
 wings could be more beautifully careful than Vautrin as he instructed 
 his first-born to be " fly." He almost made a science of his wickedness. 
 " There are some fools, Phil," he would say to the attentive youth, 
 " who go out in gangs to do this work. They employ as many hands 
 to palm off a sovereign as the perfecting of a pin is said to require. 
 Now, the only safe plan is ' straight pitching' — always be alone at 
 your work. The ignorant are destroyed by their numbers. There 
 is one who swags — that is, carries the coin; there is another who 
 pitches or passes it ; there is a third who watches the police. This is 
 vulgar ignorance, for it requires three tongues to keep the secret. 
 Always be above such brutish conduct, and depend only on yourself." 
 
 The school was a good one, and the pupil progressed rapidly. He 
 soon found he could dispense with the use of rouge to prevent the cheek 
 blanching with fear as he handed over his spurious metal. The breath- 
 ing became neither quicker nor shorter as the man behind the counter 
 took the coin. There was no spasm of joy when the change was given 
 and the shop quitted. Philip had become an experienced smasher — 
 one that even Vautrin ceased to be nervous about. If of an evening 
 the father reached home first, he felt no uneasiness at the absence of 
 his son, but knew full well that in an hour or so the youth would 
 present himself. Such delays in the meeting by the fireside only 
 augured great success in the daily transactions. 
 
 Then what joy did they feel as they reckoned up the gains of the 
 day. How they amused each other with the racy account of the 
 dangers they had run ; how this man had looked twice at the 
 money, and even then changed it ; how this young girl behind the 
 counter had taken the bad coin, and, blushing at the compliment 
 intended to throw her off her guard, given the silver in return 
 without even a suspicion of the cheat. The firm of Vautrin and Son 
 did well, and put by money. A St. S within of rainy days was pro- 
 vided for. 
 
 "When the warm weather set in and the country was worth visiting ; 
 when London was hot and dusty and the lanes and fields fresh and 
 cool; the junior member of this iniquitous firm was despatched into 
 the provinces to try his hand on the " clodhoppers and johnny-raws," 
 as Monsieur Vautrin nicknamed every individual not born within ten 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 miles of the metropolis. Then the correspondence that passed be- 
 tween the father and son was very singular. The most active inspector 
 of police might have been as full of suspicion as a Dutch doll of saw- 
 dust, and yet been able to detect nothing from the most indefatigable 
 perusal of the letters. The business tone employed by traders when 
 giving their orders to their town agents was adopted by Philip in 
 these epistles. He usually wrote to his parent in this style : 
 
 " Sin, — I have to acknowledge the receipt of yours bearing date 
 
 the instant. The five score of best gilt tacks, as per invoice, 
 
 came safely to hand. Pray forward, without delay, \ gross gilt nails 
 according to sample received per last. "We are also in want of plated 
 waistcoat buttons, and strong monkey jacket ditto. Awaiting your 
 speedy reply, I have the honour to be, sir, 
 
 " Tours, &c, 
 
 " Philip Mektok." 
 
 When Yautrin read such a charming document, he felt bis heart 
 rejoice that the fates had blessed him with so sweet a child. He was 
 puzzled to know how one so young became possessed of such great 
 business energies. He would instantly comply with the request in 
 the letter. The five score " best gilt tacks" was a figure of speech 
 intended to represent that number of counterfeit half-sovereigns. As 
 the parent read the order for " ^ gross gilt nails," he knew that sove- 
 reigns were wanted. " Plated waistcoat buttons" was but a term for 
 bad shillings, and " monkey jacket ditto" referred to half-crowns. 
 
 We have merely given this letter as a sample of the correspondence 
 that passed between father and son ; but it must be understood that 
 Yautrin never permitted his child to endanger his liberty by touching 
 bad coin of such little value as shillings and half-crowns. The " gilt 
 tacks" and " gilt nails" were the only commodities he dealt in. He 
 would say, " It takes the same time and peril to pass a shilling as to 
 get rid of a sovereign. The good business man economises time 
 to the utmost ; do thou likewise, O my son. The hand of the 
 policeman does not hold less tightly, whether the theft is for a penny 
 loaf or a cash-box." 
 
 Such men as Yautrin would not thrive so well on their iniquity un- 
 less there were other rogues to help them in their undertakings. The 
 Frenchman was acquainted with the addresses of some ten Birmingham 
 firms, all of whom were proud to own such a customer. At the head 
 of these illicit mints are men of great intellect and attainment, well 
 versed in metallurgy and the alloying of metals. They have studied 
 hard to discover the peculiar admixture of copper, tin, and iron, which 
 shall have the feel and ring of gold and silver. They have their gal- 
 vanic batteries to throw down the thin coating of the precious metal 
 which is to deceive the eye. They understand the nice arts of die- 
 sinking and stamping. In fact, they are so extremely clever, that, if 
 their ingenuity and great attainments were but properly directed, it 
 is to be doubted whether the profits of these firms would decrease in 
 amount. Some men are of magpie organisation, and look upon thieving 
 as the spice that flavours the monotony of life. 
 
 Monsieur Emile Yautrin dealt exclusively with Birmingham. His 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 invoices amounted to a very considerable sum total. The firm that re- 
 ceived most of his " favours" was in the habit of prieiug its " half- 
 James" and "James" (i.e., half and whole sovereigns) at 2s. lOd. 
 and 7s. But then the customer had a very superior article. It was 
 hard, and well cased in gold. To the eye it had a lovely appearance. 
 No ingenious apparatus for bending illicit coin was of avail, and if 
 thrown on the counter it rang as merrily as the purest Bank property. 
 In weight alone it was deficient. Nature has most cruelly put this 
 check upon the smashing community — they cannot get any cheap 
 metal of the same weight as gold. 
 
 A man of enlarged notions dislikes a confined sphere of action. 
 He wants elbow room and leg room for his genius. • Thus it hap- 
 pened to Vautrin that at last he grew discontented with the small 
 profits arising from the thirteen shillings out of the seven- shilling 
 sovereign, and began to turn his attention seriously to forged notes. 
 " To pass a note," he argued, " requires an elegant exterior and a 
 pleasing manner. My boy possesses both these great qualifications. 
 It seems like wickedness to waste such valuable gifts. He shall dabble 
 in paper money." 
 
 A letter recalled Phil to town. He was hard at profitable work, 
 but he obeyed the parental summons. The project was mentioned to 
 him, and, from the enormity of the undertaking, rather staggered 
 even his notions of audacity. But, if his spirit grew faint, the lion- 
 hearted Vautrin was at his elbow to use his glib tongue and prove 
 that the danger was fancied, and that, in fact, fictitious five or ten- 
 pound notes were the easiest things in the world to get palmed away, 
 " I am sorry," the smiling Vautrin murmured, " that you — you, Phil 
 — should have such little judgment. You see I call it judgment 
 because I know that nobody could, or dare" — he said this last word 
 defiantly — " accuse you of wanting pluck. Your fault lies the other 
 way. But I reverence everybody's opinion, so let us examine into 
 your objection. The amount of the gains frightens you. Surely it is 
 foolish to debate this stupid point. You mean : the extent of the 
 fraud will, you imagine, arouse the indignation of the victims, and 
 make them spitefully alert to catch the offender. Nonsense, sheer 
 nonsense ! The men who are in a position to change five-pound notes 
 are just those who are more annoyed at the success of the trick than 
 the amount lost. They are just as angry at taking a bad sovereign. 
 You shall see me go to work a bit, and that will restore your confi- 
 dence. Really and truly, it is a much safer game than smashing. 
 I'll tell a most singular circumstance to prove this to you." 
 
 Vautrin stirred the fire, and with the most cheerful of faces related 
 as follows: "The notes I use are so excessively well made, that 
 but for the private marks of the Bank authorities it would be impos- 
 sible to detect them as forgeries. I obtain them from a first-rate 
 Birmingham house, and when I tell you that a ten-pound note costs 
 me two pounds, and even a fiver, one sovereign, you will understand 
 they are masterpieces of imitation." 
 
 " Go on," muttered Phil. 
 
 " In the olden time, when men had bread poultices in their heads 
 instead of brains, they used to do the water-marks with a kind of 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 varnish which made the silver paper transparent. Holding a note to 
 the fire, when the heat melted this varnish, was a sure test. Now 
 we manage matters better. My man in Birmingham assures me he 
 uses the Bank paper, and I can answer for his water-marks, however 
 he does them." 
 
 "How can he get hold of Bank paper?" muttered Phil. "That 
 sounds like a very strong cram." 
 
 "My dear boy," exclaimed Vautrin, sorrowfully, "you speak 
 without judgment the dictates of your noble heart. Answer me this. 
 A few years ago the Bank of France made a fresh issue of notes. 
 How was it that on the day before those new notes appeared we 
 were all of us supplied with excellently executed forgeries, so that 
 we might go to work with them on the very morning of the issue ? To 
 be able to forge you must have an original to copy from. People high 
 in authority at the Bank itself had never seen the notes, and knew 
 no more what they were like than you do of what the King of the 
 Cannibal Islands is to have for dinner to-day. Yet we had the forgeries 
 — astoundingly perfect forgeries — ready to pass off as the genuine 
 notes. Why, my boy, bribery did it. "Workmen, watch them as you 
 will, can perform as wonderful feats of dexterous legerdemain as 
 the best conjurors going. A note was placed in an oil-silk bag and 
 swallowed. An emetic earned the man a thousand francs. Do you 
 see?" 
 
 " What about the singular circumstance you mentioned ?" asked 
 Phil, when his smiles of wonder had passed off. 
 
 " I'll tell you — not that I want to bias your opinion, but as a curious 
 instance of the very little risk a clever person need run if he has his 
 wits about him. A man I knew passed off a note, was detected and 
 tried. He pleaded he did not know the note was a forgery. When 
 the case came on for trial the Bank Solicitor had to swear to the il- 
 legality of the document. He admitted it was so excellent an imita- 
 tion that but for the private Bank mark he himself should have 
 thought it a genuine article. A juryman heard this, and says he, ' Then 
 I might have taken it.' Of course he might. The private mark at 
 that time was a pin hole over the ' B ' in ' Bearer.' The jury of course 
 discharged the prisoner. ' We might be standing in the dock our- 
 selves,' they argued, ' and yet be as innocent as turtle doves of an 
 intentional crime.' Do you see, if you deal with well got up notes 
 such as I use, there is very little danger." 
 
 As Phil still hesitated, his father considered that his remaining 
 objections must be on the score of morality. He set his ingenuity 
 to work to demolish the broken reeds to which his boy was trusting. 
 " You will hear a lot of nonsense," he cried, energetically, " about 
 the wickedness and such stuff of passing away these notes. Who 
 raised this moral hue and cry ? A parcel of City men, who are 
 themselves at the very same game. They want to keep it all to 
 themselves — the rogues. Now if I, not being worth ten sovereigns, 
 put my name to a bill for two hundred, isn't that passing off a ficti- 
 tious document ? There are hundreds of men in the City now, men 
 who keep their carriages and their hunters, who never sit down to 
 dinner without three differently coloured wine-glasses by their side, 
 who, if their bills were all to be returned the same day, would go 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 367 
 
 smash as sure as your name is — no, I mean as sure as your name isn't 
 Merton, but Vautrin. Don't be humbugged by these scamps. They 
 are only afraid we should spoil their market. 
 
 " Now look here, Phil, my boy," continued Yautrin, " if we were 
 to remain at this work all our lives, of course we should in the end 
 be nabbed. I don't intend that, be certain. I shall give the plan 
 full scope for two years. Then we shall have enough. We shall 
 retire from business and become genteel. Our money will not be 
 taken less freely because we got it in a peculiar style. We will by 
 gentlemen, live like and look like gentlemen. Are you game, me 
 nabs ? Give the word, my boy, and here's my hand on it." 
 
 The firm in Birmingham received twenty pounds in good notes, 
 and by return of post came one hundred pounds' worth of bad ones. 
 In less than a fortnight these had been passed off by Phil, who tra- 
 velled through the land like a dashing young blood of fortune, and 
 dropped his silver paper usually at jewellers'. His stock of jewellery 
 became extensive. He preferred investing in trinkets of solid gold, 
 that metal being always of value, and readily disposed of. Some of 
 these Birmingham imitations were paid into provincial banks, and so 
 excellent was the forgery, that it was only when they eventually 
 reached the establishment in the City that the cheat was detected. 
 Others remained for a long time in circulation, until the backs of 
 them became as crowded with signatures as a subscription-list. It 
 was Mr. Philip's peculiar care never to sign the same name on two 
 notes when offering them for payment. He usually selected his cog- 
 nomen from the County Directory. He also was very attentive that 
 his address should frequently differ. 
 
 And this was the reason why Philip had so much money in his 
 pocket, and such excellent clothes on his back, when Monsieur Le 
 Cobbe's Circus visited Elbury. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH A FATHER DRINKS AWAY HIS- DAUGHTER. 
 
 The broken-hearted spaniel was left for nearly three weeks to weep 
 and howl among the beer barrels of the " Gun and Crow." It stared 
 and winked at a ray of light that came in like a big paint-brush 
 through a broken pane of the dirty cellar window. It seemed to 
 think its beautiful mistress would appear at this broken pane, and, 
 walking down the ray of light, free it of its fetters of old rope. But, 
 though the tears guttered down the corners of its eyes in big stains, 
 no living creature visited the captive, unless it was a bold rat or two, 
 who crept out occasionally as if to learn when the dog would allow 
 itself to be eaten. In vain did the fond creature whisk its tail to the 
 gaoler that brought the daily heap of bones and crusts. The only re- 
 sponse to the affectionate motion was a " Lie down, will yer !" The 
 whites of the spaniel's coat became black, and its long glossy hair 
 clotted and hung in lumps like icicles. Poor dog ! 
 
 With a face of interesting paleness, and a nervous twitching of the 
 
368 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 face, Philip presented himself at his hotel. The waiter was glad to 
 see him, and curious to know where he had been. "With the cha- 
 racteristic presumption of people who wish to deceive, Phil volun- 
 teered his lie even before it was asked for. " Been shooting with a 
 friend of mine," he said, with more truthfulness than he intended; 
 and, when the waiter inquired whether the sport had been good, he 
 thought of his shoulder, and answered, " Not very." He did not feel 
 easy until he learned that his room had been locked up and kept for 
 him. Before ten minutes had passed he had examined the false bottom 
 of his trunk, and assured himself that no inquiry into the extent or 
 value of his wardrobe had yet been instituted. 
 
 The next day saw Philip dressed like an emperor's valet. His hair 
 smelt of sweet pomatum — a shining, greasy nosegay. He purchased a 
 pair of tight white gloves, and brushed his hat till it seemed French 
 polished. Altogether there was about him a wild, rakish look, with 
 an attempt at foppery which was attractively vulgar. 
 
 A policeman of great experience, if he had seen the youth, would 
 have been puzzled to tell whether he was a midshipman on the loose, 
 a young nobleman given to sporting, or a prig. His head was as 
 much on one side as a boat on the beach, his necktie looked as gaudy 
 as a flag, and he carried his big arms and hands as if he was prepared 
 to fight at a moment's notice. The peculiar method of arranging his 
 hair so that two big curls fell from each temple, was eccentric and 
 suspicious. But, despite all, there was many a maiden in the market- 
 place of Elbury who felt the pressure of her stays greatly increased 
 as she saw the swaggering gentleman stroll past her shop. The 
 butcher's daughter raised her blue eyes from the rumpsteaks she was 
 weighing, to sigh. The barber's eldest girl shook her curls and stared 
 her hardest. 
 
 "With the dirty, clotted spaniel under his arm, Philip walked over 
 the mile of dusty road that led to the R.N.'s dwelling. He rang 
 boldly at the bell, employing the time until the savage maid-servant 
 made her appearance in dusting his boots with his pocket-handker- 
 chief. The little dog, when the faithful domestic drew near, began 
 to squeak and wag its pretty tail as if wishing to wear it off at the 
 joint. The savage attendant was no less moved at the sight of the 
 animal. She spoke to it, and called it through the iron grate " dear 
 Silky," she bungled over the lock, and eventually started off at full 
 speed, calling out at the top of her voice for Miss Lucy to come. 
 
 " This looks well," thought Phil. " At any rate they are glad to see 
 me this time." He was shown into the room with the model of a 
 ship on a side-table, and told to wait a minute. He had time to 
 glance over the names on the cards in a china basket in the centre of 
 the table. Almost the first one he took up had a black border round 
 it, and " Miss Helen Crosier" engraved in the centre. " That's odd," 
 he muttered ; " does that mean bad luck or the other thing ?" He 
 believed greatly in luck. 
 
 Miss Lucy and the lieutenant entered the room together. They 
 bowed, and she blushed. Perhaps she recognised him, for she in- 
 stantly began to caress her long-absent favourite, calling it so many 
 endearing names that it made a Christian feel jealous to hear them. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 369 
 
 The old gentleman was — as they say — made of rougher and coarser 
 stuff ; indeed, so rough and coarse, that he stared at Philip as if he 
 had been a picture instead of a dashing young fellow, while the first 
 words he uttered were, " I suppose you saw the bills, and have come 
 for the reward?" 
 
 Any other man but Lucy's father would — Philip afterwards said 
 — have received " something hot and strong." His pride was 
 hurt. He might pass off forged notes, but he felt that, hang it, " he 
 had not come down to dog-stealing yet." He stared back at the 
 E.N., and smiled an insult. 
 
 The beautiful Lucy's papa was fat and slovenly. He had a Chi- 
 nese-pig appearance. By what peculiar good luck he contrived to 
 own such a lovely child was a startling enigma. His legs filled his 
 trousers so completely, that what would have been as loose as a fiddle 
 bag on any ordinary man became his tights. Even his coat-sleeves 
 seemed rammed down with flesh. He startled Philip by his voice, 
 which was a full octave lower than that of the hoarsest mortal that 
 ever shouted fresh herrings in London streets. It sounded as if he 
 had swallowed an ophicleide. 
 
 As Philip only smiled, the E.N. construed that silent movement of 
 the lips, into a consent, andturning to the captivating Lucy, desired her 
 to fetch ten shillings from the purse she would find on the study table. 
 Then out spake Philip: 
 
 " I purchased that dog from a gipsy boy, about six miles away. 
 "When I returned to Elbury, I was told it was your dog, so I brought 
 it to you. Tou needn't trouble the young lady to go to the study, 
 I decline to receive the reward." This was spoken in a troubled 
 voice, as if his feelings had been wounded — and so, indeed, they had 
 been, for, excepting in the matter of forged notes, he hated meanness. 
 
 The effect of this speech was electrical. Miss Lucy said, " Oh, 
 papa, dear, you shouldn't ;" and the E.N., who wore neither braces nor 
 waistcoat, began to rub his chest uneasily, as if he felt cold. " "Won't 
 you sit down ?" he asked, trying to make friends with the youth who 
 had a soul above ten-shilling rewards. 
 
 Then followed a rather tame, but, to Philip, a delightful conversa- 
 tion about the dog Silky and the robber gipsy boy. It was remarked 
 that Silky was thin and dirty. Miss Lucy admitted he must be 
 washed. The E.N. vowed he would have the gipsy boy caught and 
 transported for life. The opinion of the company was taken as to 
 whether the dog Silky had been fed once during the three weeks of 
 his absence, and then whether the meal consisted of meat. Lieute- 
 nant Grant inquired whether Philip should know the robber boy 
 again if he saw him, and swore to prosecute him if it cost a fortune. 
 
 After the dirty, clotted Silky had been fondled until each hair 
 must have received a kiss, a decanter of wine was produced, and the 
 conversation took a pleasanter turn. Eemembering the advice Vau- 
 trin had given him, Philip, after a time, said, 
 
 " I was looking at the cards on your table. I see you are ac- 
 quainted with a relation of mine." Naturally enough came an ex- 
 clamation of " Indeed!" and then an inquiry was made as to which 
 was the particular piece of pasteboard referred to. "When Lucy took 
 
 2b 
 
370 , TAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 up Helen Crosier' s card, a glance of singular expression passed be- 
 tween herself and her papa, in which he was evidently rebuked for 
 having insulted one so highly connected by the offer of a trumpery 
 reward, and he endeavoured, as forcibly as " a look" could speak, 
 to say, " How the devil was I to know who his relations were." 
 
 Rapidly was Philip asked whether he thought Helen Crosier pretty 
 and a very nice girl. " There's something so very striking about her," 
 cried Lucy. 
 
 Philip felt inclined to add, " Particularly when she has a gun up to 
 her shoulder ;" but he knew better than to say so. 
 
 The lieutenant almost cross-questioned Phil as to his degree of re- 
 lationship with the family. Had he considered Phil's statement in 
 the light of a misrepresentation he could not have been more exacting 
 in his inquiries. 
 
 At last Philip avowed he was the rich banker's grandson. A 
 dead silence followed this revelation. The E.N. asked him whether 
 he wouldn't take another glass of wine, and inquired whether he was 
 engaged to dine anywhere that day. 
 
 " You mustn't think I meant to offend you about that ten-shilling 
 affair," stammered the old sailor. " How the devil was I to know 
 who you were till you told me ? Now it's all right, you know ; but it 
 looked queer. Our girl, Mary, said you were the same person that 
 spoke to my Lucy at the circus, and I felt deucedly inclined to break 
 your head, I can tell you. In fact, to speak the plain truth, I be- 
 lieved you had yourself stolen the dog." 
 
 There was a burst of laughter as the E.N. said this. It was such 
 a ludicrous idea. 
 
 The knowledge of human nature possessed by Yautrin had made 
 him prophesy most correctly. The Grant family were quite en- 
 chanted to number the banker's grandson among their friends. Even 
 the savage maid-servant, on hearing of the relationship, regretted 
 she had, when at the circus, spoken so harshly to the young gentle- 
 man. " Now, I dare say," suggested Mary, " he meant no offence, 
 but merely did it for company. Neither was he free-spoken, but 
 chose his words most genteel and choice." 
 
 There was a mystery in the Grant family. Every family has some 
 disgrace or other in it, which takes up half its time to keep secret. 
 The peculiar misfortune of the E.N.'s household was that the lieute- 
 nant was uncontrollably in love with liquor. It was a constant fight 
 between Lucy and her father to keep him away from drinking. She 
 never dared leave him by himself, for if she quitted the house but for 
 an hour, she was sure, on her return, to find him out. She knew where 
 he was. About a quarter of a mile down the lane was a low public- 
 house, and Mary was certain to discover her master sotting in the 
 bar-parlour. Once in that establishment, the E.N., as long as con- 
 sciousness remained, continued to drink. The pony-chaise had to be 
 sent for him, and shillings paid to men called in from the road to 
 help carry the incapacitated gentleman to his bedroom. 
 
 Perhaps the lieutenant might remain sober for three months at a 
 stretch. After such a long duration of abstinence the drunken fit 
 would seize him, and for at least a month he was like a wild beast 
 with drink. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 371 
 
 Lucy had many trials to undergo. ' If a bricklayer, dustman, 
 butcher's boy, or intimate friend came to the house, the first thing 
 the R.N. called for was the bottle. A dram of old whisky, or a glass 
 of wine, was, he considered, the proper welcome to be given to any- 
 body. He had found out that this was his only chance of getting 
 one himself. Naturally his daughter did not like to confess that her 
 father was a drunkard, so with a heavy heart she obeyed his com- 
 mands. 
 
 She had found bottles of whisky, to be emptied during the night, 
 concealed under the mattress. He had bribed men to run over to 
 taverns by giving them the boots off his feet. He drank the scent off 
 his daughter's dressing-table. He indulged in bottled beer for break- 
 fast. After every meal he swore he was dying of an indigestion 
 which strong brandy alone could relieve. During the cholera season 
 his specific was raw spirit. Three times a day he would be attacked 
 with the epidemic and roar for alcohol. 
 
 The great object of the daughter's life was to keep her father sober ; 
 that of the father's to get tipsy. She was too weak to rule him by 
 any other means than tears and entreaties ; he had the cunning of 
 strong desire, and cared not what artifice he employed, so long as it 
 gained him the reward of liquor. 
 
 The day Philip dined at theR.N.'s, he noticed how lovingly the old 
 man stuck to the wine. The daughter had put on the table but one very 
 small decanter of sherry. Before the fish was removed the wine had 
 disappeared. It pained Phil to witness the reluctance w r ith which 
 Lucy brought in a fresh supply. He thought she had no more, and did 
 not like to confess the barenness of the cellar ; he fancied the family 
 was short of money, and couldn't afford the luxury. He quite won 
 the girl's gratitude by his continued refusals to take more wine. It 
 would have been better if he had swallowed his share ; there would 
 have been less for the lieutenant. 
 
 After dinner, when the gentlemen were to be left alone, Miss Lucy 
 placed a bottle of port on the table, and whispered something in her 
 father's ear. " She's telling him not to be extravagant," thought 
 Phil. He determined on sending in from his hotel a dozen as a 
 present at the first opportunity. The lieutenant attacked the port 
 with thirsty desperation. Every glassful went down at a gulp. In 
 vain did the savage Mary come in some six times to announce that 
 tea was ready. 
 
 To make matters worse, Philip, out of kindness — to save the wine, 
 in fact — -declared he would sooner have a glass of grog than all the port 
 in the universe. With intense delight the R.N. sent for Lucy, 
 and that unfortunate young lady had to produce the keys of the spirit 
 chest. She looked at Phil with a resigned expression, as much as to 
 say, "I have done all I canto keep my father's infirmity secret, but, 
 since you are both against me, I must submit to the disgrace." 
 
 "When the port was gone, the whisky was attacked. The old sailor 
 began to tell stories of about the time when he was an officer on 
 board H.M.'s ship Bullyrag. He inquired into Phil's history. Men 
 who drink are much given to rudeness. The guest was obliged to 
 tell many violent falsehoods. He stated the income allowed him by 
 
 2b2 
 
372 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 Vautrin, his father, to be 400Z. a year. He spoke of the fortune he 
 was entitled to by his grandmother's death. To counterbalance any- 
 thing the Crosiers might say against him, he fudged a romantic ac- 
 count of the great quarrel existing between Vautrin and the banker. 
 The lieutenant went so far as to call Nathaniel Crosier, Esq. a 
 miserly vagabond. He also expressed his astonishment that any man 
 of even decent feelings should behave in so rascally a manner towards 
 his own grandchild. 
 
 To prevent the servant, Mary, from entering the room every five 
 minutes to announce in tones of increasing pathos that the tea was 
 getting cold, the door was locked. Uselessly did Phil entreat that 
 they should join the lady. He didn't want to sit drinking hot grog 
 with the old boy. He infinitely preferred cold Twankay, with the young 
 damsel. But the R.N. struck the table with his fist, and swore they 
 would empty the bottles like men. " D — n tea !" he cried, " it's only 
 child's wash at the best. It drowns a man's nature. My heart can't 
 swim in hot tea like a confounded duck. Cold grog is the stuif to 
 wash your soul in. Try this whisky ; it is as soft as a baby's neck ; 
 bottled joy and laughter !" 
 
 After the fifth tumbler, the B.N.'s speech thickened. He pre- 
 tended at first that he spoke badly on purpose. He grew senti- 
 mental, and talked about his daughter, asking Phil if she was not 
 a beautiful girl. At least twenty times he repeated this question, 
 until Phil, ardent admirer as he was, could find no new terms to ex- 
 press his great admiration of Miss Lucy's beauty. He felt bored, 
 and wished the old R.N. would fall under the table and hold his 
 tongue. Suddenly the lieutenant was seized with a new idea. The 
 youth seated before him had so openly expressed his devotion for 
 the lovely Lucy, that the stupid drunkard grew jealous and dis- 
 trustful. His fuddled brain was labouring with the notion that he 
 must check and intimidate the young gentleman. He began to throw 
 out hints that if any man dared to trifle with his daughter's affec- 
 tions, he would kill the base scoundrel. 
 
 " I'd kill him !" he screamed, after he had been silently frown- 
 ing for some ten minutes. " I'd seize him by the neck" — he took 
 hold of the bottle — "and pour out his life's best blood" — he filled up 
 a tumbler and drank it off. "That girl is a beautiful girl," he 
 continued, " a lovely girl, with every accomplishment. The school 
 bills are up-stairs if you don't believe me. If any man dare" — he 
 commenced to weep. " If any scoundrel attempts — I'd tear his heart 
 out — I would by Heavens ! I'm serious. Don't fancy I say it be- 
 cause I am drunk. Tes, I admit I am drunk, but that's my own bu- 
 siness, not yours." Then he ceased to shout and began to blow 
 hard down his nostrils, pout his lips, and frown. Occasionally, without 
 speaking, he would strike the table violently, and then pluck at his 
 shirt-front. It is probable that the unfortunate young lady who 
 formed the subject of this indecent conversation overheard every 
 word spoken, for a gentle tap at the door was given at very short 
 intervals. Terribly bored with his tipsy companion, Phil at length 
 rose to reply to the tapping ; but the E.N., drunk as he seemed, had 
 his wits about him. He knew Lucy was there. " Sit down, sir," he 
 howled at Phil — " sit down, sir. Is this my house, or yours ? I order 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 373 
 
 you to sit down, sir, and fill your glass." The young gentleman, who 
 understood very well that if he offended the old one the house would 
 be forbidden him, complied with the order, though his heart bled 
 for the little lady trembling and weeping in the hall. 
 
 It was nearly two o'clock before the lieutenant was dead drunk. 
 His head had fallen on his bosom, and he breathed heavily, giving oc- 
 casionally a choking, guttural sound, as if his windpipe were closed. 
 Then Phil, having made sure his host was insensible, by calling to him 
 several times in a loud voice, unlocked the door. 
 
 The daughter was seated in the hall-chair with her handkerchief 
 before her eyes. She couldn't speak, neither could Phil. He felt as 
 if he, also, were to blame for that night's misery. At last he stam- 
 mered out, " If you will permit me I will assist the servant to carry 
 your papa up-stairs," and, no reply being given, summoned the 
 harsh- visaged domestic. He was a strong man, and the E.N. was a 
 heavy one. He weighed about three sacks of potatoes, according to 
 Phil's reckoning. It was tough work to climb the stairs with the 
 load. He did it though, and afterwards undressed the sot, and 
 hoisted him on to his bed. 
 
 "When he came down again, Miss Lucy was seated before the 
 dining-room grate, still in tears. He felt he could not leave the 
 house without saying a few words to her. His voice nearly failed 
 him as he remarked, " You must not accuse me, Miss Grant, with 
 being the cause of what occurred to-night. It is a most painful thing 
 
 — I trust — indeed — it would be extremely unjust to condemn me " 
 
 "When a beautiful young lady is sobbing, what can a man do ? At any 
 rate, the lovely Lucy could see he was sober enough. That was 
 his great consolation. 
 
 After three or four efforts to swallow, Miss Lucy looked up and 
 spoke. " I hope, sir, you will have sufficient respect for our unfor- 
 tunate family not to mention to any one the scene that My 
 
 poor father has but this one fault." 
 
 " And a pretty good allowance, too," thought Phil. 
 
 He tried to persuade her that if a pistol were presented at him ; if 
 he felt the cold tip of the barrel touch his ear j if the sharp point of a 
 sharp knife were pricking his bosom, not one word would his tongue 
 utter to cause one moment's sorrow to one so amiable as Miss Grant. 
 He rattled on for a long time, and every word betrayed that he was a 
 devoted admirer of the E.N's. daughter. 
 
 The parent's drunkenness caused this evil — Phil was, by one night's 
 exhibition, placed on a familiar footing with the household. He 
 held their reputation, as it were, in .his power. He was intimate. 
 The daughter was grateful to him for carrying the father up to bed ; 
 the servant liked him because he took to the job with good-humour 
 and never uttered even one reproach against the sot, but tried to find 
 excuses for the failing, such as — " All nautical men love a glass," or, 
 " All men who are free with the bottle are generous with everything 
 else." The savage-visaged maid had been ten years in the family, 
 and was pleased to hear her master so pleasantly spoken of. 
 
 The youth and the damsel remained for one hour chatting over the 
 evening's misfortune. Her tears were dried up by Phil's pleasant voice. 
 
374 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 He promised to call on the morrow and see the E.N. He also pro- 
 mised never again to dine at the house, and never to accept any invi- 
 tation unless it was to tea. The maid-servant, when three o'clock 
 struck, helped him on with his coat, and the beautiful damsel accom- 
 panied him to the gate. Then, as it was pitch-dark, he was many 
 times requested to pass the night at the cottage. " "We can easily 
 make up a bed on the sofa," offered the maiden. She even hinted 
 that he might be attacked on the road. Phil laughed at that. " Hang 
 it," he thought, " that's my own line of work." 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 PHILIP " GOES IN AND WINS." 
 
 "When Lieutenant Grant was sober, his brain was singularly clear 
 and active. He could shake off his gin-and-water as a dog, after 
 bathing, shakes off the moisture from its coat. Two hours after rising, 
 he was coaxing his child to forgive him, not in direct appeals, but by 
 various acts of kindness of which she very well understood the mean- 
 ing. His brain, after the most violent boozing, would, with a few 
 hours' sleep, right itself, and, as everybody allowed, a pleasanter man 
 did not breathe than the E.N. when sober. 
 
 Philip made his appearance at the cottage about three o'clock. He 
 found the lieutenant in the garden. " Begad !" said the sailor, " we 
 had a jolly time of it last night. Any headache this morning ?" he 
 inquired, knowingly. By-and-by he added, " Are you aware we 
 emptied two bottles of wine and all the spirit decanters. We must 
 have kept hard at it." Of course, Philip allowed the old fellow to 
 include him in this vast exploit. He knew exactly how much stimu- 
 lant he had taken, and humoured the toper by sharing, without a 
 dissenting murmur, the disgrace of the excess. 
 
 Every day Philip, on some excuse or other, visited the Grants. 
 The cottage in which the family resided was known to polite people 
 as Prospect Lodge, but the coarse multitude had christened it the 
 " Green Shutters." Thus, at Elbury, the ostlers at the hotel would 
 wink to each other and say, "There goes the swell to the Green 
 Shutters." "Well educated folk, however, preferred expressing the same 
 thought in genteeler words — for instance, the butcher's daughter 
 would exclaim, " The gent from the hotel is off again to Prospict 
 'Ouse." 
 
 Such a young fellow as Phil was just the sort of person to win the 
 sailor's esteem. He was lithe, active, and given to nick-nacking. He 
 often assisted Miss Lucy in her garden, digging, raking, and sweeping 
 with violent enthusiasm. "When the lieutenant watered his rose-trees, 
 young Vautrin would bring him pail after pail of water, and wet his 
 trousers and boots till they were drenched, yet declare he enjoyed 
 the sport amazingly. If the lock of a door did not act, Phil had it 
 off, and on again, in a perfect condition, in no time. He turned out 
 

 
 1 
 
 Nt 
 
 « 
 

PAVED WITH GOLD. 375 
 
 a huge dog as big as a calf that had entered Miss Lucy's poultry- 
 yard with the evident intention of seeing how chicken tasted. On 
 the occasion of the pony falling down during an afternoon's drive, 
 he lifted it up again by sheer strength of muscle, without a buckle 
 being unfastened. He jumped and moved about with the elasticity 
 of a harlequin. If a rose-tree wanted training, Phil had the tall 
 ladder out and turned gardener. The laughter and joking which 
 whenever he was present made the time pass like sleeping, impressed 
 everybody with the belief that there did not exist in the whole world 
 another young man worthy to hold a candle to Phil's sunny qualities. 
 He sang, too, quaint character songs. He had learnt them in the 
 days of his wandering. The old lieutenant laughed till his eyes dis- 
 appeared behind his fat cheeks whenever he heard the famous love 
 song of " I'll feed thee as fat as my feyther's old seow." In such 
 pleasant society the old man could manage to live on a half allowance 
 of grog. Then did Lucy say to the hard-favoured Mary, " He would 
 be cured of his weakness if Mr. Vautrin were to stay a year with us." 
 To which the domestic would reply, " That he would. I'm sure it's 
 as good as raw spirits to listen to him." Even the savage attendant 
 had been won over to Phil's side. Phil joked the stern-visaged maid 
 about her sweethearts, and, although she had given over even praying 
 for a husband, the mention of one w r as to her sweet as the drop- 
 pings of fresh honey. Many a shilling was placed in her hand, 
 hardened with washing-days and strong soda. She at last grew so fond 
 of the handsome young visitor, that when he came she would whisper 
 to him " Master's in the garden, but she is in the parlour." Poor 
 thing ! she meant it kindly enough, but as Phil, whenever he found 
 Lucy alone, always made love to her, the hard-favoured housemaid 
 was, in reality, guilty of a great cruelty in thus encouraging their 
 secret interviews. A marked change came over Philip when he was 
 near the lovely Lucy. The voice became gruff and pathetic ; he 
 seemed almost afraid to move about ; and, if she shook hands with 
 him, he kept hold of her fingers long after there was any occasion to 
 do so. 
 
 "Whether it was that from the length of his abstinence from liquor 
 the lieutenant's intellects had brightened, or whether anybody had 
 whispered in his ear that it was improper, to allow a handsome 
 young gentleman to make open love to a lovely young lady without 
 having first asked that young gentleman what his intentions might 
 be — whether it was from the first or last of these reasons we cannot 
 say, but, after Philip had been an almost daily visitor at Prospect 
 House for more than two months, the R.N. become suddenly savage 
 and uncivil to the amiable youth. He refused to allow him to sit in 
 their pew at church. He said he would have no more reading from 
 the same prayer-book, or walking home across the fields. He put a 
 stop to the drives in the country, and for a week the pony did nothing 
 but eat until it grew too fat for its leather clothes, and had to suffer 
 the horrors of tight lacing when at last the harness was put on. 
 The same adviser, whoever he or she was, caused the lieutenant to 
 pay a visit to the princely mansion of the rich banker of Swan- 
 borough. The E/.N. insisted on seeing that sallow millionnaire. 
 Then, in bold words, he inquired if he was willing to do anything for 
 
376 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the advancement in life of Philip Yautrin, his grandson, in case that 
 young gentleman led the beautiful Lucy Grant to the altar. 
 
 Bankers, it would seem, have a respect for great speculators. Natha- 
 niel Crosier thought the better of Philip that he had raised himself into 
 a position to marry into her Majesty's navy. The banker was a man 
 who wore a face as if it had been a mask to hide his emotions. By 
 long practice, he had paralysed the muscles of his countenance. Al- 
 though he was greatly startled by the question, his face remained a 
 perfect blank. He urged the lieutenant to speak as much as he 
 could, before he delivered himself of any opinion on the subject. 
 
 Now Mr. Nathaniel Crosier was well pleased with the lieutenant's 
 visit, for this reason. He thought to himself, " If Philip can esta- 
 blish himself respectably in the world, it relieves me of a great weight 
 of care. He is evidently a clever little fellow, and I must not quarrel 
 with him. Since this stupid old sailor chooses to give the boy ? a 
 back' to leap over his evil courses, it is not for me to grumble. Let 
 the consequences be on his own idiotic head." 
 
 Hence it was that Philip received such a character from his grand- 
 father as amounted to no character at all. The banker admitted that 
 there was a certain income, which, if certain other matters could be 
 found, would be coming to Philip's father. Then was the E.N. ad- 
 vised to ask Philip for his mother's marriage certificate. " That 
 would greatly expedite business," observed Crosier, " and I could ad- 
 vise you with more certainty." 
 
 How ably did Yautrin foresee what would occur when he had 
 promised to forward the marriage document to assist his son in his 
 courtship. He seemed to know it would be wanted. Why didn't 
 Yautrin turn lawyer, instead of openly styling himself scamp ? He 
 would have been the leading member of his profession. 
 
 It made Phil stare when the E.N. asked him for his mother's cer- 
 tificate. The E.N. said he must have it, or the lover must never 
 show his face at Prospect House again. " It's for your good I'm 
 working, my boy," added the sailor. " Do you fancy it's any pleasure 
 for me to go to Swanborough and be shut up with that yellow 
 banker ?" He also hinted that a handsome income would follow the 
 exhibition of the official paper. 
 
 "What took place at the second interview between the E.N. and 
 the rich grandfather need not be stated. The lieutenant returned to 
 dinner a smiling man, with a strong inclination to get drunk. He 
 asked Phil to favour him with an interview. The request was granted. 
 Then did Yautrin, junior, speak as he had never spoken before. He 
 trembled like a parrot in a thorough draught. His voice grew full and 
 impressive as he begged for Lucy as a wife. A thousand times he 
 swore genteely to love her to her dying hour. He would work, slave, 
 perish for her happiness. The excellent old E.N. was affected to 
 tears, and would have given his little finger for a sip of rum. " Take 
 her, my boy, take her," he moaned forth ; " only, confound you ! 
 always live with me, or else I shall be ruined by the bargain. She is 
 an angel, sir, and I am a beast. Live with us. Grod bless you ! Go 
 and ask her for the sideboard key, or I shall be making a fool of my- 
 self. Make haste !" 
 
 So Philip became engaged to Lucy Grant. On that very night, 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 377 
 
 before lie went to bed, and with tears in bis eyes, be wrote to Emile 
 Vautrin, bis fatber. He told bis parent tbat bencefortb his life should 
 differ from bis past existence. " I will be honest, despite all tempta- 
 tions. She shall never risk disgrace. Our children must not run the 
 peril of dishonour. I thank my God that I am allowed to repent." 
 Curious enough, there was a postscript to this letter requesting the 
 loan of 50/., though Philip must have known that every farthing of 
 the money he demanded had been won by dishonour and roguery. In 
 that letter did the son enclose every forged bank-note he possessed. 
 He posted the packet himself. Then he felt as if he had a thousand 
 lungs in his body, so freely did be breathe. 
 
 An answer — a polite, friendly answer — arrived in due time. The 
 father congratulated the son on his marriage, and was sorry he could 
 not be present. He applauded the virtuous resolves of his child. As 
 to the matter of the 50Z., he regretted he was out of cash, for, after 
 reading the letter, he had thrown it to the other end of the room with 
 rage. " He wishes to reform and be virtuous. Let him try, poor 
 fool ! "Wait till every shilling is spent. The last farthing and his 
 morality will go together." 
 
 CHAPTEB XX. 
 
 A MARRIAGE WHICH WAS NOT EVIDENTLY MADE IN HEAVEN. 
 
 The wedding took place. Mr. and Mrs. Yautrin returned to 
 Prospect House at twelve o'clock on a certain day to eat a magnifi- 
 cent breakfast. If it had not been for a present of some fifty pounds 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Vautrin by the delighted lieutenant, the happy 
 couple would most likely have been greatly inconvenienced for ready 
 money during their honeymoon trip. The painful fact was, that Mr. 
 Philip was really distressed for want of that extraordinary article, a 
 five-pound note. 
 
 He felt a happy man. He had given up his wickedness ; he had 
 taken to his arms a wife whom it pained him to leave for even five 
 minutes. If Lucy went into the garden to see if it rained, Philip 
 followed her. They walked about with their arms round each other's 
 waists. If Philip went up-stairs to change his coat, Lucy, when he 
 returned, would say, " Where have you been all this long time, my 
 dearest ?" They were more in love with each other than before they 
 were married. 
 
 Oh, that happy, happy time, when he and she are "lambs" and 
 "angels," "pretties" and "dearests!" — when they cannot look at 
 each other without a sickly smile and a peculiar softness of eye — when 
 they would sooner sit by each other's side than visit theatre, opera, 
 or ball ! "Why do ye last so short a time, ye fleeting months ? How 
 pathetic it is to stand by and watch those fond loves ! How their 
 bitterest quarrel consists only of an injured tone of voice — how Lucy 
 weeps if Phil but looks unkind, while he falls on his knees, as the first 
 tear trickles, to beg forgiveness. If she but say, it is a cold night, he 
 will fly up a Jacob's ladder of steps to fetch a shawl for her white 
 
378 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 shoulders. She is sleepy, and rests her lovely head for a moment on 
 the sofa cushion. Then fiercely does he mount guard to prevent any 
 noise from opening those angelic eyes. If a footstep creaks in the 
 passage, he is after it, ready to fight or chastise the heavy-hooted in- 
 dividual. Oh, ye first six months after marriage ! Why cannot ye 
 last for sixty years! Why should men get tired of these sweet- 
 meats of life, or women cease to be as attractive after fifty years of 
 wedlock ! 
 
 It was a fine tale Philip had told his father-in-law of the amount 
 of his income. The R.N. considered he had made an excellent match 
 of it. He told his friends that " his son-in-law had a very pretty little 
 annual sum, which would enable him to live like a gentleman, sir." A 
 nice rumpus it would make when the truth came out ! 
 
 Yet Phil had sworn to himself not to pass another false note. 
 Perhaps as his money became more and more easy to count, he re- 
 gretted this promise. But he was just then sentimentally inclined, 
 and looked upon the vow as one made to his Lucy. The thought 
 sometimes came uppermost that he could in one day at any country 
 town pick up enough to keep beautiful Lucy in plenty for a month at 
 least, but he was faithful to his resolves, and upbraided himself for 
 even allowing his fancy to turn traitor against his virtue. No ! no ! 
 Lucy should never be disgraced. Poor, dear, sweet, gentle girl, her 
 heart should never be broken ! 
 
 He borrowed first one fifty pounds and then another of dear father- 
 in-law. The fat E.N. began to look glum. He began to dislike Phil, 
 and, when he saw his son-in-law coming one way, trotted off" in the 
 opposite direction, for fear Phil should want any more fifties " for a 
 day or two." 
 
 At last Philip thought he would run up to London and see papa 
 Vautrin. He would punish his father by nature for the next loan. 
 The lovely Lucy pouted, but yielded to the distressing absence of 
 three days, on condition that darling Phil wrote by every night's post, 
 and promised to take great care of himself. 
 
 Week after week did Emile Yautrin, when he reached home at 
 night, ask if any letter had arrived for him. He opened many with 
 a hasty hand, but not one was from Philip. " Confound him!" 
 growled Yautrin, " where does he get his money from ? How does he 
 manage to hold out so long?" 
 
 Then it struck him that most likely his son, instead of writing, 
 would pay him a visit. For two months he never left his home of an 
 evening. "He must come," argued the man ; "the fool sent his 
 false notes back." If a cab stopped in the street, this anxious 
 watcher thrust his head and shoulders from the window, in his im- 
 patience to see if the expected son had arrived. He bought time- 
 tables, and learned the arrivals of the trains from Swanborough. He 
 even burned night-lights, and piled up coals on the fire before going 
 to bed, that he might be prepared to welcome the penniless Philip 
 back to crime and his father. 
 
 At length the son came. He walked into the parental presence 
 with a bashful, ashamed mien. He was received in an open, loving 
 manner. Chops w r ere cooked, and tumblers filled. " I knew it, I 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 379 
 
 knew it !" joyfully thought the father. " I am a lost man," mourned 
 the son. 
 
 The poor bridegroom was in the unfortunate position of being 
 thought well off, without having a penny in his pocket. He was in 
 the still more unfortunate position of requiring large sums of money 
 without seeing any possibility of obtaining them honestly. Gambling 
 or robbery are the only resources in such cases. 
 
 Philip asked his dad to lend him 200Z. The dad opened his eyes, 
 stared, and then laughed. " My poor boy ! are you mad ?" he cried. 
 " 2001. ! where do you imagine I am to get them from ? Tou might 
 as well ask me for two hundred real flesh and blood Sovereigns with 
 their royal crowns on!" 
 
 The son sighed, and looked sadly put out. He muttered something 
 about "he must get the money somehow." The old rogue's heart 
 leaped like a trout in a clear stream. " I shall get back my son 
 again ; I shall have my boy — ha ! ha !" he chuckled to himself. 
 
 Lucy received a long letter from "her pet Phil," telling her he 
 should be away for three weeks. She was not to fret. There was 
 some bother about his drawing his income as usual, and a friend who 
 had promised to advance him some money refused to do so unless 
 Phil stayed for a few weeks' shooting at his place. " I shall dream 
 of you every night, love," wrote Phil. The darling Lucy wept till 
 her eyelids were as pink as rose-leaves, and wished in her heart her 
 beautiful boy knew nobody in the world but herself, and that money 
 and shooting had never been invented. 
 
 After arguing for an entire night and day, the papa Vautrin had 
 convinced the son Yautrin that the only known means of getting to- 
 gether 300Z. in three weeks was to commit a burglary. He had also 
 clearly demonstrated that there was no danger in such a proceeding. 
 " I love you too dearly, my boy, to let you risk your life," said the 
 affectionate parent. " I'll show you the way. Leave it to me." 
 The unhappy boy consented. He swore, looking up at the ceiling, 
 " This shall, at any rate, be my last crime !" 
 
 Canterbury was fixed upon for the exploits of Vautrin's gang. 
 " It's a good ecclesiastical town," said that unworthy man, " and 
 there is no place like a dean's house for solid silver spoons." A list 
 was obtained of the good houses in the suburbs of the town. One 
 Tater-trap Sam, a big-mouthed burglar, joined the venture when Can- 
 terbury was mentioned. " There hasn't been a crib cracked there 
 these four 'ear," he said. " It's uncommon adwantageous ground." 
 
 Philip, as we know, was a very good-looking fellow, of that power- 
 ful build and impudent expression of face, and with those charm- 
 ingly free-and-easy manners which maid-servants find it so difficult 
 to resist. He had a delightfully roguish trick of tickling, flirting, 
 flattering, and promising marriage. To Canterbury was he de- 
 spatched, armed with full instructions, in order to find out which 
 of the inhabitants " was worth most sugar." 
 
 He made most of his inquiries at public-houses. Dressed like a 
 respectable tradesman, he went up to the bar and ordered a glass of 
 ale. The drinking of this refreshment took a long time. He " tried 
 all he knew" to get into conversation with the landlady, calling into 
 play his softest tones of voice, using his prettiest speeches, and 
 
380 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 generally displaying those blandishments which are supposed to win 
 the roughest heart. When the road was properly prepared he would 
 commence operations. " I came down from London this morning," 
 he would begin, " on very important business. Tou can do me a 
 kindness if you will, but I shouldn't like you to mention it to any- 
 body. Mr. So-and-So, who lives in such and such a house close by, has 
 given our firm a very heavy order — and, indeed, it's as good as five 
 hundred pounds to us. We are rather nervous about taking the 
 work without making inquiries. Are they respectable people ? Do 
 they live in style ?' ' The landlady, taken off her guard, would — fancy- 
 ing she was doing good service to her neighbour — answer any ques- 
 tions put to her about the wealth of the gentleman in question. 
 
 The safest plan was to get hold of a man-servant, and learn 
 from him the necessary particulars. lor this purpose, Phil would 
 dress up as a groom, and frequent taprooms where coachmen, and 
 occasionally footmen, passed their evenings. He would run his eye 
 round the room and pick out the handsomest livery. It was not 
 difficult to get into conversation with these men. A glass of grog 
 soon made a friend of the most diffident. On such occasions, Phil pre- 
 tended that he was looking out for a "place," and inquired whether 
 his companion could " put him up to" a comfortable berth. If any 
 situations were mentioned, one of Phil's questions was whether 
 " there was much plate to clean." 
 
 Or else Philip, when he had nearly decided on the establishment 
 to be attacked, would inquire in the neighbourhood the name of the 
 coachman "who served the family." Then he walked boldly up to 
 the house, rang the stable-bell, and asked to see Mr. Smith, the coach- 
 man, for a few minutes. As soon as the domestic appeared, Phil 
 began, in a confidential whisper, "I understand you're going to 
 leave." This led to a lengthy conversation, in which Mr. Smith de- 
 nied the fact, and became anxious to know how such a report could 
 have got about. Then Phil inquired whether Mr. Smith couldn't 
 slip out for a few minutes to have a glass of ale. If the stupid 
 man consented, Phil reckoned his job nearly completed. The ale led to 
 pipes, and the pipes to grog. The talk was all about their relative 
 places. " Mine was a very good place, and very good money, but I 
 couldn't put up with their temper. It was a good place if you'd got 
 the temper to stand their temper." Growing more and more confi- 
 dential, he would describe the wealth of this supposed master. He 
 would Drag of the family plate and the young ladies' jewels. Gene- 
 rally it set Mr. Smith bragging too, and out came the required 
 information. "Rum old fellow, my governor," Phil would next 
 begin ; " every night the plate was carried up to his room. We kept 
 it in the footman's pantry in the daytime, but sometimes he'd be 
 that suspicious he'd actually come down in the daytime and count 
 it over. He would, by gum!" Thus was Mr. Smith gradually 
 wheedled into confessing the secret arrangements of Mr. So-and-So's 
 establishment. 
 
 Another of Philip's tricks was to call at one of the rich-looking 
 mansions with a letter addressed to anybody he first thought of — say 
 
 Jones — with these words underneath, " Care of Mr. « " whatever 
 
 the name of the wealthy owner might be. This letter did the foot- 
 
PAVED "WITH GOLD. 381 
 
 man carry into the parlour, where the wealthy owner was seated, 
 and announced that a groom was waiting for an answer. This 
 caused much commotion. The wealthy owner swore he didn't know 
 who Jones was. The mistress of the house was consulted, as were 
 also the young ladies and gentlemen, to learn if they knew anything 
 of the mysterious Jones. This took time, and permitted Phil, at his 
 leisure, to examine the bolts, bars, and street-door key. 
 
 Every morning at seven o'clock did Philip rise, and, after dressing 
 in his natty groom's costume, sally forth into the streets to transact 
 his evil business. At that hour the servant-maids were cleaning the 
 door-steps, and, knowing the family were in bed, not averse to a flir- 
 tation before breakfast. The natty groom did not pick his maidens 
 according to their looks, but the houses in which they dwelt. On one 
 of these excursions he fixed upon an unfortunately plain female 
 hearth-stoning the entrance to a noble establishment. The open 
 street door revealed a hall as long as a shooting-gallery. The youth 
 began proceedings by carrying away the maid's pail. She pursued him, 
 calling him " Mr. Impudence." He swore he would only surrender 
 the pail on receiving a kiss. She, noticing that nobody was about, 
 recovered her master's property on the terms mentioned. After she 
 had returned to her hearth-stoning, Phil stood by and tempted her : 
 " You'd make a nice little wife to take care of a fellow's home, and 
 keep it clean, for you're a tidy little body, I can see, and a mortal 
 foe to dirt." 
 
 " That I just am — you're right there," the girl replied, although 
 there was round her unwashed neck a rim of black like a leathern 
 strap. 
 
 In these dialogues the young rogue always mentioned marriage at 
 the first set-off. He found the damsels looked more kindly on him. 
 They did not object to the abruptness of the proposal. 
 
 " It would save me a deal of money, keeping me out of public-houses, 
 for I make a goodish sum of money, and easy come, easy go," continued 
 Phil. " Hang it ! I've half a mind to make a rush of it, and get 
 spliced. "What do you say, Mary ? Are you agreeable ?" 
 
 " Go along with you — you don't mean it," the girl replied. " You're 
 only making a fool of me. If I was to say : Yes, you'd think : No. 
 Besides, my name ain't Mary, but Emmerly." 
 
 " Thank Heaven for all its blessings !" continued the wooer, " for 
 Mary's a name very much against my grain. I can tell you one thing, 
 Emily, my dear — we shouldn't want any candle to go to bed by so long 
 as you have those bright eyes of yours. That's a saving, ain't it ?" 
 
 His playfulness during these walks was pleasant to behold. If a 
 servant was sweeping, he took hold of her broom and insisted upon 
 helping her. If she was beating a mat, he relieved her of her duty. 
 After rendering these services, the handsome groom invariably told 
 all of them he was looking out for a pretty little wife, and requested 
 them, if they wouldn't have him, to speak to their sisters, " for he 
 liked the pattern much, and must have one of the family." It fol- 
 lowed that Phil's evenings were taken up with keeping appointments 
 with the different servant-girls of Canterbury. He was frequently 
 invited, on the sly, into the kitchen. That was the end and aim of 
 his gallant attentions. 
 
382 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 The sturdy vagabond Vautrin was highly pleased when he and 
 three others joined the youth at Canterbury. Even Tater-trap Sam, 
 that "righteous man,"* complimented Phil on the completeness with 
 which he had done his work. They determined on going to business 
 at once. With consummate ability, Phil had even persuaded a 
 policeman " to stand in for a share" of one of the undertakings. 
 The constable had evidently suspected that something " was up," and, 
 to keep his mouth quiet, Vautrin, junior, had proposed to fill it with 
 one-fifth of the plunder. 
 
 They were very fortunate in their work. On the Sunday afternoon, 
 they rifled three houses. At one of them, Philip had made an ap- 
 pointment with Emily to meet him in the summer-house at the end of 
 the garden, whilst the family were at church. "Whilst the love-making 
 was proceeding, Yautrin and his men packed up the plate, and emptied 
 one or two desks of their contents. 
 
 In the evening, Phil took another servant-girl out for a stroll, 
 whilst her mistress was at chapel. The gang, after knocking twice 
 at the street-door to assure themselves that the house was deserted, 
 picked the lock and entered. The forks and spoons were soon col- 
 lected and carried away. 
 
 One evening, they broke into an extensive mansion about a mile 
 from the town. Their friend, the policeman, arranged matters very 
 prettily for them, and even consented, in case any danger threatened, 
 to give them " the office ;" that is, warn them. He was to shout 
 out "Bill Thomson!" at the top of his voice, and, if that failed, to 
 spring his rattle. 
 
 At two in the morning, the gang entered the grounds of the doomed 
 house. They met the policeman at the gates, and satisfactorily an- 
 swered his inquiry of " will it be all right?" It took about two 
 minutes to " star the glaze." A bradawl was inserted through the putty 
 of the window-pane, and a handkerchief placed against the glass to 
 deaden the sound. With one turn of the awl the brittle glass splin- 
 tered. A wet thumb was rubbed backwards (as on a tambourine) 
 against the pane, and one of the rays of the " star" followed the jarring 
 finger. The piece was taken out, and, the catch being unfastened, the 
 window opened. The "james" — a short crowbar — and the centrebit 
 soon cleared away the obstruction of the shutter. 
 
 The darkie — a lantern — was little used. The men were silent as 
 ghosts. They expressed themselves by pantomime. They " muffled 
 the hoof" with list slippers. One thing they noticed especially. As 
 they threaded the passages, they were particular about the way they 
 entered, that there might be no bungling if a hurried escape became 
 necessary. 
 
 The household slept in peace. The maids above and the men at 
 the back might have occasionally heard a suspicious sound, but, after 
 listening for a second, cursed the cat, and turned over to sleep. 
 The thieves were practised at their work, and the clock in the hall 
 made more riot than they. 
 
 Whenever they came to a landing with two doors, they tried them, 
 
 * The slang term for a regular cracksman. 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 383 
 
 and, if both were open, locked one. The keys were taken from 
 the inside and placed on the outside. They even entered bedrooms 
 and locked the sleeping inmates in their apartments. A key was 
 turned with less noise than the chirp of a cricket. 
 
 They visited the drawing-room. A silent match was struck and 
 a wax taper lighted. Be sure they cared nothing about spilling the 
 grease on the thick-piled carpet as they hunted about. Five minutes 
 sufficed to pillage the room. The silver inkstand, the watch lefb by 
 mistake on the mantelpiece, the notes in the desks, were all they took. 
 They were so careful not to burden themselves with plated goods, 
 that, if no hall-mark could be discovered, pieces were cut off the sus- 
 picious article to see if any copper could be detected. Every time 
 they entered a room, Vautrin waved his arm to set the searchers to 
 work, and they, creeping, like snakes, up to the chiffonniers and cup- 
 boards, pocketed anything they imagined of value, whilst the leader, 
 with a life-preserver in his hand, guarded the entrance. 
 
 Once they heard a voice ask " who's there ?" They couched and 
 held their breath till a snore gave them liberty to move. In one 
 bedroom, two young ladies were sleeping. The wax taper was flashed 
 before their eyes to test the soundness of their repose, because 
 forcing drawers occasions a little noise. If these young ladies 
 had opened their eyes at that instant, they would have seen these 
 rough men with craped faces standing around the bed, and, by their 
 dumb show, expressing great admiration for the nightcapped faces on 
 the pillow. It was Vautrin who always kept guard over the sleepers. 
 His M neddy," or life-preserver, was held above their heads, ready to 
 strike if necessary. The men hunted for and pocketed the trinkets. 
 Diamonds, emeralds, and pearls were thrust into the capacious pockets. 
 It was a good " find," and made one fellow so jocose that he took up 
 a little boot belonging to one of the sleeping beauties, and lifted his 
 hands in wonder at its smallness. 
 
 The proprietor of this establishment had to be aroused from his 
 sound repose to say where he concealed his treasures. At first, he 
 rubbed his eyes and stared in wonder. He was beginning to call 
 out, w T hen Vautrin struck him on the shoulder with the life-preserver, 
 and swore to murder him if he made the slightest noise. The gentle- 
 man's wife entreated him to be peaceful. In a wonderfully short 
 time, the treasures that it had taken the owner years of prudence to 
 amass were handed over to the robbers. Silver tea and coffee ser- 
 vices, numberless spoons and forks, a silver tea-urn, candlesticks, 
 bank-notes, watches, and jewels, were delivered up, and the lives of 
 the plucked ones spared. The policeman who " stood in" for this 
 robbery saw the rogues depart with their plunder. He asked them, 
 as they passed him, "if it was all correct?" An appointment was 
 made with this guardian of the public safety, according to which he 
 was to meet the thieves on a certain day, and receive his share of the 
 booty. Housebreakers never break faith with the police. The 
 officer knew this, and trusted them like gentlemen. He was wonder- 
 ing how much his share would come to, when the alarm of the burglary 
 was first given. 
 
 The division of the spoil took place in a back room in Hounds- 
 
384 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 ditch. Yautrin knew the value of diamonds as well as any merchant. 
 The plate was tested with aquafortis and weighed. The gold settings 
 of the trinkets were equally divided. Philip and his father claimed 
 two shares each ; the others were well contented with what they got. 
 It was the best prize they had ever had. The Jew who came to buy 
 the silver at 4s. the ounce complimented the robbers on their adroit- 
 ness, as he crammed the metal into his " old clo' " bag. He was 
 obliged to make three journeys to carry away his purchase. 
 
 Both of Phil's pockets were crammed with notes when he returned 
 to his darling Lucy. His heart smote him as she caressed and scolded 
 her naughty husband, kissing him for coming back, and rebuking 
 him for being away so long. She threatened to make him account 
 for every moment of his time. He turned pale and tried to smile, 
 but his lips felt stiff and his heart heavy. At night he prayed by his 
 bed so long that his wife was frightened. She asked him why he was 
 sobbing, but, when he replied, " With joy at returning to his beloved 
 Lucy," she thought it very natural, and wished she knew how she 
 could express the great love she felt for her " darling boy." 
 
 Once more Phil swore he would never again trespass. He would 
 change his life. Tor the sake of her he loved, he would be honest. 
 But Phil was not his own master. His soul was not his own. Did 
 he think Yautrin had forgotten the vow he had made to have his 
 hand about the banker's throat ? That man never broke his oaths, if 
 Philip did. 
 
 When Yautrin came down to Swanborough, he did not inform 
 Phil he was so near Prospect House. He lived and slept at the cot- 
 tage of rough-headed Tom, the gardener. He never cared to witness 
 the domestic felicity of his first-born. 
 
 The Frenchman took no exercise, unless it was towards dusk. Then 
 he would wrap himself up in his thick coat, and, concealing his face 
 behind the upturned collar, stroll across the fields. As he neared a 
 tumble-down cart-shed, he would give a shrill whistle, and, if the 
 signal was answered, his pace was increased. Then two men would 
 step forth from the dark shadow of the shed. They never greeted 
 each other with any terms of friendship. It was a business meeting. 
 The shafts of an old cart were their seats. Pipes were lighted, and 
 liquor produced and shared, the drinker placing his lips to the neck 
 of the Dottle. The men spoke in whispers. The important business 
 on which they met was kept very secret. If the discussion became 
 animated, it was only by their gestures being more frequent and sudden 
 that the confederates betrayed their excitement. There was evidently 
 more roguery afoot, and that of a dangerous kind. 
 
 Yautrin had determined on letting Phil enjoy his home for a time. 
 \ "He shall have no share in this spec," he said to himself. "His 
 brain is not strong enough to bear much of this sort of thing. Besides, 
 he lives too near to that cursed scoundrel. It might ruin the boy, 
 and break his pretty wife's heart, if we failed. He is better at home, 
 drinking tea and staring into her eyes. This time I'll go alone." 
 
PAYED WITII GOLD. 385 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 CASSANDRA II. 
 
 One of the disadvantages of Truth is the difficulty of getting peo- 
 ple to believe in it. Men who will take pleasantly to a brisk false- 
 hood shake their heads dubiously at a ponderous truth. There are 
 thousands of truths scattered about the world, lying idle as a miser's 
 hoard, but it is such break-neck business to meddle with them, that 
 prudent people prefer closing their eyes and passing them by un- 
 heeded. The work is too dangerous. A line in an almanack is poor 
 compensation for poverty and persecution. The discoverer of gun- 
 powder most likely blew himself to atoms. 
 
 How many victims have there been to unrecognised truths ! There 
 was poor Socrates. He might have conducted his academy pro- 
 sperously, and died comfortably between the sheets, but truth drove 
 him to prison. Diogenes might have rolled in his carriage instead of 
 his tub. In his sixty-fourth year, Cicero was assassinated, that being 
 exactly the period of life when easy-going gentlemen, who care no 
 more for truths than cows do for roast beef, retire from business to 
 enjoy ease and plenty. The usual way in which truth confers immor- 
 tality upon the discoverer is by causing his death. 
 
 Among the sufferers from truth must be enumerated Miss Helen 
 Crosier. The mighty Columbus himself, wandering over Europe 
 seeking for some prince to put faith in his dreams of continents be- 
 yond the seas, was not more laughed at than the above-mentioned 
 young lady, whenever she insisted that on a certain moonlight night 
 she had beheld suspicious-looking men prowling about the grounds 
 at Swanborough. Her heroic behaviour in firing the gun caused in- 
 numerable allusions to be made to her great capacity for shooting 
 with the long bow. She flew into passions which made her eyes 
 appear most becomingly bright ; she stamped with her little foot 
 until her heel ached ; she slapped her pretty hands until the palms 
 tingled, but to no effect. She frequently inquired whether she ought 
 to believe what she had seen with her own eyes, and was by way of 
 answer favoured with several interesting instances of curious optical 
 delusions. It became a custom among her jocose friends, whenever 
 they met, to inquire whether her repose had lately been disturbed any 
 more by robbers. Very intimate friends, who dared to take liberties 
 with the young lady, hinted that probably the robber had been some 
 love-sick youth, about to commence a serenade beneath her lattice. 
 AVhenever the captain wrote to his sister, he never missed inquiring 
 whether " she had shot any more ghosts." These constant doubt- 
 iugs and contradictions began to affect the unfortunate damsel's 
 health. She grew nervous and snappish. Her own maid, Harriet, 
 
 2c 
 
386 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 who had been six years in the family, was so frequently ordered 
 to "leave the house that very instant," that she grew quite accus- 
 tomed to the command, and refused to pay it the slightest attention. 
 
 The spot where Helen had seen Vaiitrin standing had the next 
 morning been carefully examined by the police and neighbours. No 
 traces of footsteps could be discovered. In vain did Miss Crosier 
 affirm that she wounded some one, and uselessly did she give imita- 
 tions of the cry of pain that followed her shot : not a drop of blood 
 could be found, and her exertions went for nothing. The constables, 
 not liking to contradict her, said the whole affair was very curious ; 
 her father desired her not to be so sentimental and absurd ; her bro- 
 ther suggested (per post) "nightmare," and inquired carefully into 
 what she had that night eaten for supper, and everybody laughed at 
 the miserable Helen, who, after all, was correct in everything she 
 had said. 
 
 No watch-dog ever guarded a house more carefully than did this 
 unhappy young lady ever since that eventful night. Her nerves 
 were completely shattered. She could not sleep a wink for nights. 
 The window near the ground was grated with thick iron bars, but 
 even that did not dispel her fears. She bought a most villanous cur 
 from a boy in the village, a restless, discontented beast, that barked 
 itself into a sore throat if a cricket began to chirp. Every night did 
 this sour-hearted dog sleep in Miss Helen's bedchamber, and, by the 
 great number of its false alarms, caused its amiable owner to pass the 
 greater portion of her bedtime either peeping into the garden from 
 behind the blind, or listening with the most acute interest to detect 
 the sound of the supposed robbers ascending the stairs. Now she 
 could distinctly hear the gravel of the walks crunching beneath a 
 heavy boot, now it was the crack of a lucifer struck in the hall. 
 More than once the old banker caught her wandering about the 
 house, at three in the morning, to make sure that the servants had 
 bolted some particular door or other she had been dreaming about. 
 
 She became the Cassandra of the household, always predicting the 
 fall of the Swanborough Troy, and always being laughed at for her 
 warnings. When her father was away of an evening, she was too 
 timid to sit alone, and insisted upon one of the maids keeping her 
 company. Every female in the house dreaded her society on these 
 occasions, for at least once an hour something occurred to make them 
 both tremble and turn pale with fear. It was one constant inquiry 
 of " What was that, Harriet ?" or, " Did you hear anything, Har- 
 riet ?" A rose-branch scratching against the window would make 
 their eyes open to the size of soap-bubbles. A shouting in the road 
 would make them jump as if a black beetle had nipped their ankles. So 
 nervous was the unhappy young lady that she dared not even look at the 
 portrait of her poor buried mother when once the lamp had been lighted, 
 for the eyes seemed to have life in them and to be staring at her as 
 she sat still, or to follow her about the room whenever she stirred. 
 Another constant cause of alarm were the window curtains. Every 
 night, after the shutters had been closed, these long curtains were 
 drawn closely together. On stormy nights, the wind found its way 
 through the cracks of the woodwork and caused the drapery to bulge 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 387 
 
 out, somewhat as if some one were concealed behind the cloth. In- 
 stantly the little mistress would direct the attention of the maid to 
 the suspicious-looking appearance of the curtain. In a half-joking 
 tone — for she was ashamed of being thought a coward — Helen would 
 ask whether anybody wouldn't swear a man was hidden behind the 
 hangings ? The servant acquiescing, and the cloth continuing to swell 
 out and move, the two girls would at last grow so alarmed that nei- 
 ther of them had the power to move. In vain would Helen call out 
 in a commanding voice, " If there is a man behind that curtain I 
 order him to come out." In vain were books thrown at the supposed 
 housebreaker. The usual end to the scene of terror was to ring the 
 bell for the footman, and, on the pretence that the shutter wasjnot 
 properly fastened, ensnare that unsuspecting menial into risking his 
 liveried form in an encounter with the imaginary assassin. 
 
 One night, the vigilant cur was so restless and savage that it became 
 a question with its mistress whether it was going mad or really heard 
 thieves. It sniffed at the crack under the parlour-door, and barked 
 with remarkable strength of lungs. Even pats on the head and gruff 
 orders to " be quiet, sir," failed to have any other effect than to 
 change its noisy bursts into continuous growling. The old gentleman, 
 writing in the library, rang the bell twice to desire that the animal 
 should either be turned into the yard or kept quiet. It continued to 
 creep cautiously about the room, with its tail tucked tightly between 
 its legs, and its ears pricked up as stiff as fir-cones, snarling and 
 yelping most perseveringly. Even in the bedroom the rebellious 
 little imp refused to be comforted. It kept its eyes fixed on the 
 window, and grumbled sternly. Its unfortunate mistress felt certain 
 that some evil threatened the family. She lay trembling in her bed, 
 expecting every moment to hear the front door forced in with a crash. 
 She endured this torment of mind for more than an hour, but, at last, 
 summoned up sufficient courage to creep to the window and very 
 slightly draw aside the blind and look into the garden. 
 
 She nearly fell forward with fear, and clutched at a chair by her 
 side with such force that her finger-nails were bent backwards like 
 the nibs of quill pens. Standing on the lawn, almost in the same 
 spot she had fired at, was a tall figure. He was staring up at the 
 house, as if studying every window in its walls. When he saw the 
 reflexion of Miss Helen's head and shoulders cast by the night-light 
 upon the white blind, his form retired slowly to the thick shrubs, and 
 disappeared behind them. 
 
 As soon as he was out of sight, the young lady recovered strength 
 enough to commence screaming. Followed by the barking dog, she 
 flew to her father's room, and between her gasps announced to the 
 alarmed gentleman that robbers were about to break into the premises. 
 One by one the servants, in their nightgowns, with shawls thrown 
 hastily over their shoulders, came creeping down stairs. Windows 
 were thrown open, and a dozen heads thrust forth to look after the 
 marauders. The night air was cold, and the inmates quickly came 
 to the conclusion that it was a false alarm. 
 
 Mr. Nathaniel Crosier grew angry. He frowned and, despite his 
 tall nightcap, looked terrible with rage. Two of the maids were 
 
 2c2 
 
388 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 desired to take their beds down into Miss Helen's room, and pass the 
 night there. " If she has any more of these hysterical attacks," said 
 the banker, " let the groom saddle the pony, and gallop over to the 
 doctor's. I'll pnt an end to these midnight disturbances." 
 
 It was useless for poor Helen to vow and protest she saw some 
 one staring up at the house. Her father would not even answer her, 
 but closed his door and locked it whilst she was in the middle of her 
 statement. 
 
 The next morning a severe "talking to" awaited the daughter when 
 she descended to breakfast. She was told she must submit to 
 medical treatment, and have a little courage poured down her throat 
 from physic bottles. Her parent professed himself shocked that a 
 daughter of his should be so childish. " Even if you did see some 
 one in the garden, is it so difficult to enter from the road ?" argued 
 Mr. Nathaniel. " What is there so dreadful in it that you must rush 
 up and down the house like a banshee, frightening everybody out of 
 their night's repose ? How are the servants to do their work ? I 
 should not wonder if some report were spread about that the house 
 is haunted, or something of the kind, and not only will the do- 
 mestics refuse to stop with us, but the value of the property will be 
 considerably depreciated ; and for this loss of domestic peace and 
 money invested, I shall have to thank a young school-girl's romantic 
 stupidities." 
 
 The young lady, although annoyed at being styled a school-girl, 
 began to weep. In her most beseeching voice, she implored her father 
 to believe her. Again she prophesied that great evil was threaten- 
 ing the family of the Crosiers. She even went so far as to mention 
 the word " death." If her father had seen the fellow's face staring up, 
 with the full moonlight on it, he would, she was certain, think as she 
 did. But papas are very slow to listen to the wisdom of their chil- 
 dren. Her stern parent hinted unmistakably that if she persevered 
 in her absurdity he should lose patience, and bade her attend to the 
 teapot, and leave robbers and such stuff to him. The wretched 
 Cassandra moistened her dry toast with her tears, and munched so- 
 lemnly. 
 
 Yet this unfortunate young lady had been most truthful in her 
 warnings. It was Vautrin whom she had seen, and there was evil in 
 his eye as he scowled upon the building. 
 
 But the earnestness of his daughter's manner had, despite himself, 
 impressed the old banker. Whilst the daylight lasted, he treated her 
 cautionings with apparent indifference. The darkness of night is the 
 time for fear. As the gloom of evening set in, he grew nervous. The 
 head groom was sent for and orders given that the big house-dog 
 should be unchained and allowed to roam about the grounds till morn- 
 ing. The old man was ashamed to betray his fears before his servant, 
 and, assuming a laugh, stated that his daughter had teased him into 
 these foolish measures. Before proceeding to bed, he saw to the fasten- 
 ings of the door, trying the bolts with his own hands. A staircase 
 window over the portico attracted his notice from the facilities it 
 offered to any speculative burglar. It struck him that a few iron 
 bars might not be misplaced. Then he retired to rest, thinking to 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 389 
 
 himself what steps he should take supposing an attack should be 
 made upon the premises. As he could not sleep, he left the candle 
 burning, a thing he had not done for years. Yes, the banker was 
 afraid. 
 
 There was only one man in the world whom he really dreaded. 
 He hated Yautrin and feared him. " It is an unequal match between 
 us," he argued ; " that rogue doesn't care a curse what he does. He 
 has no property to lose ; no reputation to risk. I wish the scoundrel 
 would die and leave me at peace." 
 
 Curiously enough, the thoughts of the very man the banker was 
 cursing were bent upon the same subject. He was leaning over the 
 fireplace in rough-headed Tom's kitchen, and, as he watched the wood 
 smouldering, said to himself, " It's a hard fight. The ,old rogue has 
 money and the law on his side. He has only to raise his voice, and 
 the police are at his elbow. But, hang him, or hang me, I'll be even 
 with him. It shall be a clean slate between us before I have ended 
 the business." 
 
 As the banker could not sleep, he rose, and, slipping on his dressing- 
 gown, passed the time in letter-writing. A hurried note was scrawled 
 to the village smith, giving directions about the bars for the staircase 
 window. Then he began a note to his brave soldier-boy Merton. 
 
 "Your sister," ran part of the letter, "has gone crazy lately, and 
 will insist that the house is to be attacked by thieves, or some such 
 stupidity. I fear the girl will be ill, unless something is done to 
 quiet her alarm. I am very angry, but at the same time I cannot help 
 pitying her, her terror is so sincere. I am sorry to interfere with 
 you, my dear Merton, but I should be pleased if you would run down 
 to Swanborough and pass a week with us. Indeed, I insist on this, 
 so do not disappoint me. I have ordered the footman to sleep with 
 loaded pistols by his bedside. You are a soldier, and your presence 
 would have a very excellent effect upon poor Helen, who is really 
 suffering. I shall expect you by the day after to-morrow, at the 
 latest." 
 
390 PAVED WITS GOLD. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 A WEDDING TRIP. 
 
 To console the unfortunate of this world, some humane philosopher 
 started a theory, that more men were ruined by success than by 
 failures. A gentleman who has just passed the Insolvent Court, and 
 finds himself at two o'clock on a wet morning without twopence to 
 pay for a night's shake- down, may feel a glow of satisfaction from 
 this paralogism, but, until "Whitecross- street is crowded with prisoners 
 possessed of five thousand a year, or the House of Correction be 
 crammed with vagabonds who keep their carriages, we cannot place 
 perfect confidence in this curious speculation in morals. There was 
 Captain Crosier. "Was he a ruin ? If it be insisted that he was, then 
 we must add, that never was a ruin in a more perfect state of repair. 
 His ivy of remorse was neatly clipped and trained ; the weeds of re- 
 pentance were most carefully kept under. He ate and drank with a 
 heartiness pleasant to behold, and, altogether, was healthy and 
 amiable. 
 
 Unfortunately for his victim, the only chance he ran of being 
 ruined was from his indecision of mind. He never once lost sight of 
 the object he had in view, but he loitered on the way, and rested 
 often on the road. Yet he was successful. Bertha was most de- 
 cidedly his. He had only to call a cab, and order her to step into it, 
 and she would have obeyed. 
 
 He was like a timid man at a gambling-table. He longed to 
 join in the game, and win as his noble friends had done, but yet 
 he held back, nervously calculating the chances of losing. Whilst 
 the ball was moving, he felt undecided, and it was not until it 
 stopped that he determined on making the venture. Thus it was 
 only when adverse circumstances dimmed his hopes of making the 
 delightful Bertha his, that he felt the gratification of his desires was 
 necessary to his happiness, but the moment the path appeared easy, 
 and conquest seemed certain, he drew back to think the matter over 
 and repent. His mind was a miserable coasting-vessel, that could 
 only steer its course so long as the rocks were in view. 
 
 The pretty Bertha pined and thought. At times, her dear Merton 
 treated her most coldly, ordering her about in a commanding tone, as 
 if he wished purposely to remind her that, after all, she was only a 
 maid-servant. Then the poor girl would regret the days when she 
 lived so peaceably under Miss Tomsey's roof, and, restored to reason 
 by her sorrowful thoughts, allow her brain to rebel against her heart, 
 until she was thoroughly convinced of the impossibility of ever being 
 Mrs. Captain Crosier. How charmingly, when he again evinced 
 symptoms of wishing to renew their love, she would warn him to leave 
 her in peace, and permit her to try and forget they had ever met. 
 " Tou are ashamed of me now," she would say, very sorrowfully, in a 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 391 
 
 clear voice, without a sob in it, although the tears ran down her 
 cheeks. " Of course you will deny it, but I can tell from your ways 
 that you are. It is much better that we should part ; better for you, 
 and a thousand times better for me. It would kill me — don't laugh, 
 I am speaking seriously — it would kill me if you should ever consider 
 that I disgraced you. When they asked what I had been — when they 
 inquired who my mother was — I know you would feel terribly sorry 
 that we ever met. Do go away. I think I could bear it now — at 
 least, I can promise you shall never know if the separation is more 
 than I can endure." 
 
 As, when a lusty poker, wielded by a broad-palmed hand, is driven 
 among the dull, red embers, the flame with each thrust springs up- 
 wards to the chimney, so did these iron words arouse the dormant 
 affection in the grates of the captain's bosom, and send his hot love 
 leaping to his throat. He swore and vowed, he knelt and pressed, 
 and gradually the glow of his love imparted its warmth to the chilled 
 heart of the fair one. In a book of domestic economy there is an 
 excellent receipt for making a good, cheap fire. The author says, 
 " Damp the cinders with a little water, and they will burn exceedingly 
 well." The tears from Bertha's eyes had this effect on the dull black 
 dust of Merton's burnt-out nature. 
 
 It was after such a scene as the one above described that the cap- 
 tain, in the full heat of his affection, had gone out to cool his ardent 
 love and commune with himself in the seclusion of the back streets 
 of Camberwell. " Poor little thing !" he thought to himself, " I can't 
 bear to see her cry. Her sorrow is so confoundedly calm it frightens me. 
 I know she'd kill herself somehow or other if I left her, and, although 
 I don't believe in ghosts, yet I should be always thinking of her, and 
 that's as bad. There are all those things I bought for her lying at 
 my place in Harley-street. "What the deuce could I do with them ? 
 They are too large for Helen, so I couldn't give them to her — be- 
 sides, it looks so odd making presents of linen to one's sister. Hang 
 me, if I know what to do ! I love her better than she thinks — con- 
 found her!" 
 
 In the midst of his reflections, he felt some one touch him on the 
 shoulder. He instantly recognised the countenance of Jack Towser, 
 formerly of his regiment. But Jack Towser had very materially 
 altered since they had last met. Formerly Jack Towser had been a 
 great dandy ; now he was most undoubtedly ragged. His hat was 
 dented and coppery ; his coat was as patched as a barge sail, and his 
 boots opened and gaped like the shells of a dead oyster. The dashing 
 Merton hunted with his eyes for Jack's shirt, but, even if he had drawn 
 the cover of the closely-pinned waistcoat, it is doubtful whether any 
 linen lay concealed beneath. 
 
 " Good Heaven, Jack!" cried Merton, "what is the matter?" 
 
 Jack had been a great fellow in his time. He drove a spanking 
 curricle, and never wore a coat more than a fortnight. His tailors 
 worked for him night and day. Jack used to worry cats to death 
 with bull- dogs in his drawing-room, and play blind-hookey for 
 three days and nights at a time. Now his money was gone, his wits 
 had returned, and he admitted he had been a great fool. 
 
392 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 He told a mournful story about no dinners and no baccy. His 
 former companion in arms understood the meaning of the complaint, 
 and when they reached a deserted street took money from his purse. 
 In the evening, Merton weeded his wardrobe, and carried round 
 to Jack's garret a bundle of clothes that any dealer of cast-off apparel 
 would have been happy to purchase for ten sovereigns. 
 
 This Jack Towser, in the days of his magnificence, had been a 
 desperate admirer of the female sex. The captain could remember 
 several wonderful stories that had been told at the mess-table of his 
 extraordinary impudence and success. " He is the very man I have 
 been wanting," thought Merton. " He knows nothing about Bertha, 
 Mother Hazlewood, or her workhouse, neither need I mention how 
 long I have been after her. By Jove ! it seems like a providence, 
 my meeting him." 
 
 Of an evening the captain would slip a bottle of brandy into his 
 pocket and go round to Jack's, and smoke, drink, and chat. The 
 quondam buck had descended from the roof to the ground-floor. 
 After the third visit, Merton took Jack into his confidence. He told 
 a long story about his meeting with Bertha in Kensington Gardens, 
 some few weeks since, and detailed the conversation they had whilst 
 he was following her home. He took great credit to himself for his 
 tact in engaging rooms in her mother's house. He related many 
 other imaginary incidents with such excessive minuteness, that Jack 
 knew he was lying, although he was too clever to say as much, but 
 only laughed, and vowed it did him good to hear such jolly stories. 
 " She's a respectable girl, and deuced well educated, and that sort of 
 thing," continued Merton, not so much on Bertha's account as his 
 own. " I never saw any one so head over ears in love with a fellow 
 as she is with me. Of course, it's her game to hook me into a mar- 
 riage, and mine to fight shy of the business. And yet the rum thing 
 is she's ready to bolt with me whenever I like. What would you 
 advise me to do r" 
 
 Such gentlemen as Jack Towser are not long in framing schemes, 
 for their ideas are not governed by any delicacy of feeling, or the 
 slightest respect for the person to be deceived. The night's conver- 
 sation appeared to have led to a highly satisfactory result, for, on 
 leaving, Merton squeezed his friend's hand warmly, and said, " I'm 
 confoundedly obliged to you, old boy. Not a word to any one — keep 
 it dark. And mind, it's a bargain. Tou help me in this little affair, 
 and I'll stand a fifty." 
 
 All the captain's affection for Bertha now returned. He began 
 once more to look in her face, and make strange noises in his throat. 
 He asked her fifty times a day if she really loved him, and poured 
 blessings on her head as she modestly blushed in reply. Then he 
 inquired if she had carefully hidden away her wedding-ring, and 
 looked pleasantly sly as she assured him it was not lost. The love-sick 
 maiden felt so light-hearted with joy that she seemed to walk on clouds. 
 Her darling Merton was himself again. His beautiful smiles had 
 returned to his handsome face. He was all goodness and truth. 
 
 Now the fond lover began to press his beloved with great importu- 
 nity to name the day. He pretended to be seriously offended when 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 393 
 
 she implored him to allow her to consult her mother. " What !" he 
 cried, " this from you, Bertha, when you know, as well as I do, how 
 important it is that our union should be kept secret ? "Would you 
 ruin me, dearest angel ? Surely it cannot make much difference 
 whether your mother hears of our marriage a day sooner or later. 
 Beautiful but imprudent girl, you wrong me, for this looks like sus- 
 picion." 
 
 But he teased her and allowed her no rest until the wedding-day was 
 fixed. All his arrangements were laid before her with an appearance 
 of the greatest candour. They were to be united at the Registrar's 
 Office. It was, he said, a much quieter and more sensible method 
 than at the church. So as not to arouse the mother's suspicions, he 
 was to quit Camberwell the day before. The next morning, they 
 were to meet. Her clothing was already at the lodgings in Harley- 
 street. He would have everything ready for leaving London the 
 moment after the ceremony. Then for years of happiness and delight 
 — " eh, Bertha ?" 
 
 Three days before the eventful morning arrived, Merton received his 
 father's letter, summoning him to Swanborough to protect the house 
 and its inmates. He couldn't help laughing w T hen he read the epistle. 
 " Just the thing !" he thought. " I'll make it our wedding trip. 
 Couldn't have happened better. There's a capital hotel at Elbury. 
 I can leave her at the Royal Greorge, and gallop over to the governor's, 
 blow him up, and rush back again to Bertha." 
 
 Time flew on. Portmanteaus were packed, locked, and strapped, 
 and Mr. Cutler w^as informed that for three weeks at least he might 
 consider himself his own master. The cab was called, and off rattled 
 the bridegroom. 
 
 He was the first at the rendezvous. With his watch in his hand, he 
 waited impatiently for the fair one. He thrust his head frequently 
 from the window, and cursed and swore as he looked anxiously up and 
 down the road. At last she came, with tears in her eyes and with a 
 face full of wretchedness, to implore of him to let her remain with her 
 mother. He drew her into the cab, and, whispering an address to the 
 cabman, ordered him to drive rapidly. The man saw that something 
 " was up," and, dreaming of a little bit of gold, lashed his horse into 
 full speed. 
 
 Presently the captain told Bertha they^ had reached the Eegistrar's 
 Office. He alighted first, and inquired if Mr. Towser was at home. 
 She hesitated to leave the cab, but in a snappish voice he bade her 
 make haste, saying that these public officials did not like to be kept 
 waiting. So she was introduced to Mr. Towser, the Registrar, a thin 
 gentleman with a dissipated face, but solemnly clothed in black. He 
 also wore a white neckcloth and steel spectacles. 
 
 " Crosier! Crosier!" repeated the Begistrar, as if the name was 
 familiar to him, and at the same time hunting over his books. " Per- 
 fectly correct, sir. The notice was left with me three weeks since," he 
 added, as if reading an entry. " Is this the lady ?" he asked, raising his 
 solemn face. When Bertha had faintly smiled in answer, he con- 
 tinued, " Then we had better commence the ceremony at once. Step 
 this way." 
 
394 PAVED WITII GOLD. 
 
 For fear Bertlia should refuse to put faith iu the excessively short 
 ceremonial known as a marriage before the Registrar, the captain had 
 cunningly purchased a law-book on the subject, and, to prepare her 
 mind, had not only shown her the printed description of the rite, but 
 even made her read the words out loud. The couple were ushered 
 into a front drawing-room, in one corner of which was a desk. 
 Then, looking fearfully solemn, Jack Towser proceeded to busi- 
 ness. First, the captain had to declare that he, Merton Crosier, 
 was anxious to make her, Bertha Hazlewood, his wedded wife, and 
 also to declare that he knew of no just cause or impediment why he, 
 Merton Crosier, should be thwarted in his desires. The poor girl, 
 who felt as if her tongue was withered, was made to repeat that she, 
 Bertha Hazlewood, was equally anxious to be united to him, Merton 
 Crosier. Finally, Mr. Jack Tow T ser, turning up his eyes from excess 
 of zeal, solemnly declared that the two were tightly joined together ; 
 and, with the signing of names in a big book with a red cover, the 
 ceremony was declared to be at an end. It made Bertha start when 
 Mr. Jack Towser, in his gruff voice, addressed her as Mrs. Crosier. 
 She also noticed that when Merton paid the Registrar his fees, it was 
 with a note for 501., and she could not help thinking how much more 
 expensive it was to be married in that quiet manner than at the 
 church by the regular process. It did both their hearts good to hear 
 the Registrar wish them a pleasant honeymoon. He spoke in such 
 an affectionate manner, hoping that their lives would be one long 
 sunny holiday, undisturbed by the slightest conceivable cloud, and 
 praying that their family would grow up around them, a blessing to 
 their parents and a glory to the nation. He was only checked in his 
 benedictions by the captain inquiring when the marriage certificates 
 would be made out and ready for him. " How very considerate of dear 
 Merton," thought Bertha, who was extremely desirous of possessing 
 documentary evidence of her lawful union. The papers were to be 
 prepared and waiting by the time they returned from their wedding 
 trip. 
 
 They drove down to the railway station. She was so flurried and 
 so supremely happy, that it seemed as if the hobbling old cab-horse 
 flew over the ground with lightning speed, so rapidly did the time 
 pass. They held each other by the hand, and, whenever her com- 
 panion muttered " darling Bertha," she sighed " dearest Merton." 
 
 Seated in the railway carriage, this scoundrel felt his soul shrink 
 up within him as he calmly contemplated his villany. She, poor 
 unhappy victim, was unconsciously smiling on him, worshipping with 
 her eyes the generous man who, forgetting her humbleness and his 
 own grandeur, could raise her to the dignity of his wife. He could not 
 for some time talk to her. If it had been possible, he would, at that 
 moment, have let her go unharmed, but by some curious fatality it 
 would seem as if these virtuous impulses only enter the heart at the 
 exact time when it is impossible to comply with them. 
 
 Encouraging himself with the consoling thought that it w T as now 
 too late to back out of the business, and that he must go through 
 with it as best he could, he placed his arm round her waist and began 
 to chat most amiably. He warned her, in a tender voice which seemed 
 
PAVED "WITH GOLD. 395 
 
 to deny his words, that occasionally, perhaps twice or thrice a year, 
 they might have quarrels and disputes. He tried to convince her that 
 he was now and then irritable. He went so far as to confess that he 
 was at times overbearing and exacting. " But, my dearest angel," he 
 continued, " you will soon teach me to be a better man. When you 
 see that I am inclined to quarrel, you will conquer me by your 
 amiability. We shall live so happily that all the world will be 
 envious of our great joy. My pretty little wife shall be the envy of 
 the men, and all the women shall bite their nails with vexation that 
 they have not married such a constant, doting husband, as I shall 
 prove— -eh, Bertha ?" 
 
 Then the silly girl began to chatter about the future. " Never, 
 dear Merton," she said, "let us have any secrets away from each 
 other. Whatever you may do, I will forgive you, if you will confide 
 in me. It would break my heart, dear, if I thought you considered 
 me unworthy to be trusted, because it would seem as if you had with- 
 drawn your love from me." 
 
 " Blessed angel!" exclaimed Crosier, in a rapture, " how can you 
 suspect me of ever deceiving you ? I promise you that you shall share 
 every thought. I will take no important step in life without pre- 
 viously consulting you. Tour advice shall have more influence over 
 me than even my own judgment. Does that calm your fears, my 
 beautiful little wife ?" They smiled with superlative fondness, and 
 gazed on each other's eyes for an unusually long time. 
 
 " I shall be so jealous of you, Bertha," sighed Crosier, as he felt his 
 sight grow misty. " Already I hate men, because I know they will 
 admire you. I was foolish to marry such a pretty wife." 
 
 Is it to be wondered at if the poor child had no suspicion of the 
 infamous cheat that had been plotted against her honour ? 
 
 When the journey was about half over, it suddenly struck the cap- 
 tain that the name of Crosier was one very well known to the inhabi- 
 tants of Elbury. It would never do, he considered, to take Bertha 
 to the first hotel in the town and style her Mrs. Crosier. The old 
 man would be sure to hear of it, or some busy-body would certainly 
 carry to his sister Helen the news that her brother was married. 
 That would about blow up the whole business. If his name had not 
 been painted in huge white letters on the waterproof coverings of his 
 portmanteaus, he would have assumed a false one. It was very 
 awkward, indeed. 
 
 In the first place, there is a certain delight and importance in being 
 able to talk of " my wife," which he was sorry to miss. It seemed 
 like talking of his property. It was a hundredfold better than speak- 
 ing of "my groom" or "my horses." He was fond of that. He 
 longed to be able to ask waiters and chambermaids " whether Mrs. 
 Crosier had ordered dinner ?" or if " Mrs. Crosier had arranged about 
 the apartments ?" But, hard as it was to forego this self-glorification, 
 he felt he must defer the enjoyment until they left Elbury. 
 
 He showed Bertha the letter he had received from his father, and told 
 her that, as they would pass within a few miles of Swanborough, 
 he would leave her at an hotel whilst he paid a visit to his parent and 
 laughed him out of his fears. It wouldn't take long, he promised, for 
 
396 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 the old gentleman was as sensible as a bench of bishops put together, 
 and would soon listen to reason. " In the mean time, dearest," he 
 continued, nervously, " I think it would be better — not that I care 
 much — although, until the proper time arrives for declaring ourselves, 
 it is a highly prudent measure — it would be better, my love, for you 
 to go by an assumed name. I can say you are a Mrs. Tattenham, 
 whom I am escorting to Southampton. It will only be for a short time. 
 I shall only be away for about three hours, and then we can take a 
 post-chaise and hurry on to the next town. Do you object to this, 
 my darling?" 
 
 She did object, and felt hurt at the proposition. It struck her as 
 being odd that within so short a date of their union it should be 
 necessary for her to forego her husband's name. But then she sud- 
 denly remembered that this was not the first time he had warned 
 her it was necessary the marriage should be kept secret, and, with as 
 much good nature as she could summon, she consented to his wishes. 
 The waiters at the Eoyal George danced about with remarkable 
 activity when Captain Crosier' s trunks were handed down from the 
 railway fly. Mine host turned out to attend to the rich banker's 
 son. A handsome sitting-room was ordered for Mrs. Tattenham, and 
 a bottle of sherry and some biscuits were placed before the travellers. 
 The landlord seemed quite wounded in his feelings when he heard 
 the captain only intended remaining in Elbury for a few hours. He 
 said he would have exerted himself to the utmost to make his stay 
 agreeable. "Why, you silly fellow," replied the captain, "if I 
 went anywhere I should put up at Swanborough. There's plenty of 
 room there, I'm escorting Mrs. Tattenham to Southampton, or you 
 wouldn't have seen me. As it is, I've only just time to eat a hurried 
 dinner, so pray consult with Mrs. Tattenham about what there is in 
 the house fit to be eaten." 
 
 " I wish he wouldn't call me Mrs. Tattenham," thought Bertha. 
 " It makes me feel cold all over, as if something were going to happen. 
 I shall be glad when we leave the place." 
 
 They dined at three o'clock, to allow Crosier plenty of time to make 
 his visit to his father. It was a pleasant repast, not so much on 
 account of the viands the host provided as for the loving conversation 
 which they held. Had any inquisitive waiter been listening at the 
 keyhole, the secret of the supposed marriage would soon have been 
 discovered. The captain invariably addressed the imaginary Mrs. 
 Tattenham by such endearing terms as "my life," "my love," or 
 " my sweetest pet." The matter under discussion was of a monetary 
 character. The gallant officer hinted that possibly Mrs. Crosier 
 would occasionally find that a little cash was useful, and informed 
 her that she was to consider his purse as her own. " I would not 
 hurt your feelings, my darling, by doing as most men do, for I con- 
 sider it a most blackguardly and impertinent thing to allowance your 
 wife to so much weekly. It seems to me like paying wages. No, my 
 sweet lamb, remember that whatever I have is yours." This singular 
 gentleman felt a great delight in mimicking the ways of a lawful hus- 
 band. "With a delicacy that pierced clean through Bertha's heart, he 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 397 
 
 took from his pocket bis own purse, and handed it over to her, 
 crammed as it was with notes, saying, "That for the future she should 
 be the banker." But he could not help the thought crossing his mind, 
 that it would be excessively easy to check this unbounded trust at 
 any moment he liked. "Does good now, and soon stopt by-and- 
 by, when we are more intimate, and she grows extravagant," he re- 
 peated to himself. 
 
 A horse was ordered, and the captain rode away, his fine military 
 figure looking most imposing, as he turned round in his saddle to 
 wave his hand to his beautiful Bertha. The three hours he was to 
 have been absent passed. Then she went to the window again to 
 watch for his return, and stood there, poor little thing, for another three 
 hours, until it wa3 so dark she could not see ten yards down the road ; 
 but she listened very industriously. In vain did the waiter enter the 
 room to know if " Mrs. Tattenham" would have tea served. The 
 same answer was constantly given, " No, I thank you. Captain Crosier 
 intends leaving Elbury the moment he returns." Nine o'clock struck, 
 and her nervousness was such that the slamming of a door was 
 enough to make her burst into tears. At last, the waiter again 
 entered, with a letter and bunch of keys on the silver salver. She 
 almost guessed what the note was about, even before she read it. 
 " My pretty darling," it began, "the people here are mad, and the 
 old man worse than any one. He swore at me, and commanded me 
 not to leave the house. I was obliged to obey him, for not only is 
 lie my father, but worth at least a couple of hundred thousand. 
 Queer way of beginning our honeymoon, isn't it ? Never mind, 
 sweetest. I send the keys. Gro to bed, and have breakfast ready by 
 eight, for I shall have my arm round your waist by that hour." 
 
 By eleven o'clock, a pair of interesting small hottines were placed 
 outside Mrs. Tattenham's bedroom door. The " Boots" could only 
 just find room enough on the soles to chalk the number of the 
 chamber. 
 
I 
 398 PiTVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 MR. VAUTRIN, JUN., VISITS THE CCOTTNEOT. 
 
 To a gentleman with nothing to do but to try and make the time 
 between breakfast and dinner pass as rapidly as possible, a daily news- 
 paper is invaluable assistance. He feels as if the doings of the entire 
 globe were put in evidence before him. His arm-chair becomes a 
 judgment-seat, and he frowns with sternness over the tripping and 
 backsliding of his brother and sister millions. For fourpence daily 
 he shares with cats the privilege of looking kings in the face. Mi- 
 nisters and members of Parliament are as fearlessly criticised as 
 dinner, port, and sherry. 
 
 In this innocent manner did Lieutenant Grant, E.N., indulge him- 
 self. Now he was a police magistrate, a Jardine or an Elliott, seated 
 in the judgment arm-chair of Bow-street, or Lambeth. Wives 
 stabbed by husbands, scandalous case of fraud, &c. &c, were 
 brought before him. As he read the reports, he felt as if the fines 
 and committals were his doing. Or, if he took pleasure in continental 
 news, he could, with the turn of an eye, enter the Tuileries as easily as 
 if he were the Emperor himself, or attend a meeting of ministers in 
 the Queen of Spain's audience-chamber. " Bless my heart," the 
 E.N. would sometimes exclaim, " another change of ministry in 
 Greece. Confound the fellows ! they are always changing." And 
 yet the lieutenant cared no more for Greece and its rulers than I do 
 for the sea- slug soup of the Chinese, but he paid fourpence daily for 
 his newspaper, and felt bound to offer his opinion on the events of the 
 day. 
 
 "Enjoying your paper, papa?" the mild- voiced Lucy would ask, 
 as her parent finished the last column in the last page. 
 
 " Nothing in it — positively nothing," would be the answer, although 
 the journal invariably contained some twenty yards of closely-printed 
 matter. 
 
 The brave E.N. was also a constant subscriber to the local news- 
 paper. It gave him pleasure to support a journal printed, as it were, 
 under his very nose. He had a confused notion that he was assisting 
 a neighbour and encouraging his own speculation. Frequently, after 
 reading the leading articles of the Elbury newspaper, he would burst 
 into a fit of swearing, and strike the table till it hopped, declaring, 
 between his oaths and blows, that "the fellows on the little journal 
 wrote infinitely better than the chaps in the Times." To such an 
 extent did his enthusiasm carry him, that on one occasion he insisted 
 on reading aloud to Phil the remarks made by the editor upon the dis- 
 covery just then made, that an alarming quantity of forged notes had 
 within the last year been circulated in the country. 
 
 " By jingo ! if the rogues see this, it ought to make them tremble 
 
PAYED WITH GOfJ). 399 
 
 in their confounded boots," roared the R.N., as lie began to spout 
 the leader. " ' The audacity with which this gang has proceeded in 
 its infamous work, the nicety with which the spurious notes have 
 been passed away, the curious completeness of the imitation, all prove 
 that the villain who has organised this infamous robbery is a man of 
 vast attainments — one who has degraded the blessings of education by 
 converting them into the means of base and cowardly robbery.' 
 "What do you think of that, Phil ? That's good outspeaking, eh ?" 
 
 The young rogue who heard these words did tremble, if not in his 
 boots, at least in his slippers. He felt his nerves and courage give 
 way as he further heard that a local committee of inquiry had been 
 instituted, at the head of which was Mr. Nathaniel Crosier, the 
 respected banker. 
 
 " "We'll soon have the ruffian," roared the lieutenant, with glee. 
 
 The route which the utterer had taken was ingeniously traced. 
 The towns through which he had passed were known by the victims 
 he had left behind. He had advanced to within a few miles of 
 Elbury, but as yet that town had not been visited with any calamity. 
 Even the house of Crosier and Company had been deceived, and ac- 
 cepted the notes as genuine, so excellently had the Bank of England 
 paper been imitated. 
 
 flo one was louder in his denunciation of the culprit than the 
 culprit himself. By shouting with the mob he hoped to escape its 
 notice. The more alarmed he became the more lustily he inveighed 
 against the forgers. He even delivered his opinion as to the punish- 
 ment he should like to inflict upon the rascals. Little did the tippling 
 father-in-law think, as he applauded Phil's assumed virtuous indigna- 
 tion, that the real culprit sat scarcely the length of a policeman's arm 
 from his side. 
 
 Unfortunate Lucy often told Phil in the morning that he had been 
 throwing his arms about in his sleep, and tossing in the bed like a 
 man with a fever. Then he would inquire anxiously if he had talked 
 any nonsense in his dreams. " I should think you did," the unsus- 
 pecting wife would reply; "but you mumbled and jumbled your 
 words up so that I could not understand a syllable. But I'll have a 
 good laugh at you some of these fine mornings and discover all your 
 secrets." 
 
 "Under these distressing circumstances, it seemed to Phil that the 
 wisest thing he could do would be to retire from Elbury for a short 
 time. The police, with Nathaniel Crosier at their back, were almost 
 at the threshold of his hiding-place, and'he had lost all power over 
 himself, so that even the gabblings of his waking moments might 
 convict him. But he was not so foolish as to decamp and arouse sus- 
 picion by his flight. He waited three or four anxious days, ponder- 
 ing over a sensible excuse for packing up his trunks. At last, he saw 
 advertised in the Times an announcement of some cheap excursion to 
 Paris to view some fete or other. The subscribers were to be carried, 
 housed, and fed, for something less than the ordinary railway fare. 
 Instantly Philip began to talk with Lucy about Paris. He dilated 
 on its pleasures ; reminded her that all the fashions came from there ; 
 asked her if she liked French cooking, or preferred Ere.nch boots and 
 
 V 
 
400 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 gloves ; and hinted at Lyons velvet and cheap clocks, until at last he 
 imbued her with so strong a desire to visit the capital of the polite, 
 that she began to calculate the expense of the trip, and to prove that 
 the cost would be a mere nothing. 
 
 Like a good natured, kind-hearted husband, Phil first laughed at 
 his little wife's entreaties, and gradually acceded to them. " She has 
 set her heart upon this excursion, sir," he remarked to the not over- 
 pleased lieutenant, " and I suppose I must let her have her own way. 
 See what we poor husbands have to suffer. I shall just let her have 
 a wine-glass of claret and a sniff at a French kitchen, and then 
 bring her back again with a whole nosegay of roses on her pretty 
 cheeks." 
 
 With sorrow in his heart, the lieutenant, having written to a 
 maiden sister to come and keep him company in his solitude, saw the 
 young couple depart. He grew more and more depressed when the 
 pony-chaise, with the trunks behind, turned the corner of the road 
 and disappeared. Nothing but the knowledge that he had the key 
 of the sideboard in his pocket supported his drooping heart. The 
 only consolation he felt was in following the route of his children, 
 almost step by step, on their way to the French capital. " Now," he 
 thought, " they are in London. I wonder at which hotel they are 
 staying ? I wish I had told them to go to the Chesterfield, in Bruton- 
 street. They might have tasted the '34 port." The next morning, 
 he considerably annoyed his spinster relation by arousing her from a 
 steady doze, to ask her opinion as to whether the sea was likely to be 
 rough across the Channel ? " I should enjoy a good toss, you know," 
 he shouted, through the half-opened door, " but I'm afraid poor Lucy 
 will be half killed.'/ 
 
 By the time Phil and his wife reached Paris, the old lieutenant 
 wished sincerely in his heart that his daughter were back home again. 
 But not so the young husband. He drew forth his purse, and, show- 
 ing Lucy the sixty sovereigns that, constituted his fortune, informed 
 her she must manage somehow or other to make them last for 
 at least six months. She stared with wonder, for the poor thing 
 thought they had journeyed for pleasure. He mumbled out some excuse 
 about being in debt, and wishing to economise by living cheaply in 
 France. He had not courage enough to tell her he had fled to escape 
 shame and punishment. 
 
PAYED WITH GOLD. 401 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A BED OF THORNS. 
 
 The house was well protected when Nathaniel Crosier retired to 
 rest. The men-servants had pistols within arms' reach ; the big dogs 
 were wandering about the gardens ; and, above all, the brave soldier- 
 son was to sleep in the spare bed. He would be a determined thief, 
 indeed, that dared to face the gallant captain on the second-floor 
 front. 
 
 He would have given a hat full of sovereigns, that loving, martial 
 youth, if he could have escaped from the parental roof, and flown on 
 the swift wings of love to the side of the adored Eertha. But he was 
 a captive. Iron bars do not make a prison, but a stern father's iron 
 will grates up every door and window. He had struggled hard for 
 his liberty, sifting his miserable pate for the merest attempt at an 
 excuse to be freed from his dungeon. The old gentleman had been 
 forced to frown and talk loudly ; he had been obliged to say cutting 
 things about the ingratitude of sons ; and eventually, when all 
 entreaties had failed, to shout out imperative commands that his 
 first-born should remain beneath his roof. There had been quite a 
 scene. "When at length the unhappy son yielded, he did so with a 
 heart-broken air, which the papa was quite unable to account for. It 
 almost seemed to him as if Merton wished the house to be broken 
 into and pillaged. 
 
 About eleven o'clock, the old gentleman jumped into his bed, and, 
 feeling secure under the protection of one of her Majesty's officers, 
 made up for previous nights of restlessness by falling to sleep with 
 wondrous rapidity. 
 
 The unhappy Merton stayed up until two in the morning, gazing 
 at the moon, and mourning over his miseries, until sighing changed to 
 yawing, and he determined on burying his grief between the blankets. 
 A snore of rich tone and volume soon gave proof that the blotting- 
 paper of oblivion had dried up his tears of anguish. 
 
 The banker dreamed. He was seated in his office, and a man, who 
 years ago had failed, owing him a large sum of money, entered the 
 room, carrying a heavy box. He had a confused idea that this man 
 had long since died and had no right to be walking the earth, but he 
 was not frightened by the visit. The debtor told him he had at 
 last come to clear off his liabilities, and pointed to the ponderous 
 chest. They had a long chat about bygone times, and then the lid of 
 the box was raised. There was gold enough to fill a wheelbarrow. 
 In the handsomest manner, the man begged of the banker to accept 
 it all. Together they tried to move the treasure, but it seemed fixed 
 as to the ground by its weight. Yet the man had before carried it 
 easily as a bandbox. It seemed to old Crosier that he pushed and 
 
 2d 
 
402 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 pushed at this chest until his hands bled, but it was only inch by 
 inch that it yielded to his exertions. He called for his clerks to help 
 him, but no one came. Then, without any cause or reason, it seemed 
 to him that he was no longer in his office, but standing with the heavy 
 chest on a hill not far from Swanborough. The treasure slipped 
 from him and fell rolling down the declivity. "With each revolution 
 the money rattled as if it would burst asunder the wooden sides of the 
 chest. It bumped over ditches and dashed against stones with an 
 explosive noise. As he» stood wringing his hands in despair, some one 
 touched him on the shoulder, and he awoke. 
 
 At first, in the confusion of drowsiness, he knew that a human 
 being was standing by the bedside, but he never for one second 
 thought of robbers. Gradually, as his brain settled itself and his 
 eyes opened, he became aware that no one had authority at such 
 an hour, in the dead of night, to shake him from his slumbers. He 
 half raised himself from his pillow, and mumbled out, " "What is it ? 
 "Who are you ?" 
 
 The answer made his eyes start open with sudden terror. " If you 
 dare to move or call for assistance I will dash your brains out." The 
 banker stared, and thought it prudent to obey, for a heavy life-pre- 
 server, that carried an ugly conviction of danger in its manufacture, 
 was placed within six inches of his skull. A twist of the wrist and 
 he was a dead man. 
 
 The robber threw the light of a dark lantern full upon old Crosier's 
 face, and seemed to be examining his features. The banker submitted 
 to all this passively, his mind busy in thinking whether the burglars 
 would be able to find out the strong-room where the plate was kept. 
 He felt resigned to the loss of such stray silver as was in daily use. 
 He knew exactly the value of everything on the premises. In an 
 iron chest let into the wall of his dressing-room there was a bundle 
 of notes, for which he trembled. A table stood before the metal door 
 of this chest, and sincerely did the old man pray that it might escape 
 detection. 
 
 The strong light of the lantern was removed, and the banker, as he 
 lay, looked round him. The drawers had been forced, and his clothing 
 scattered about. " It was the noise of bursting the locks that made 
 me dream," thought the old man, as calmly as if he were in a police- 
 court. Somebody who knew the premises well formed one of the 
 robber band, for a secret drawer in which the old man kept his dear 
 wife's jewels had been opened, and the red morocco caskets were evi- 
 dently ransacked. He saw all this, yet there he lay helpless, fearing 
 even to breathe too loudly, lest the bludgeon above him should 
 descend upon his grey head with a deadly stroke. 
 
 The minutes fled slowly. His watch beneath his pillow throbbed, 
 and appeared almost to shake his head with its vibrating. He was gain- 
 ing courage in the silence, and meditating upon the policy of leaping 
 suddenly from the bed and alarming the house. The only thing which 
 restrained him was the idea that possibly Merton was as strongly 
 guarded as himself. Much as he loved money, he loved his life 
 better. 
 
 The man by the bedside moved. He drew the heavy curtains back, 
 
$ 
 
 M 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 403 
 
 and leaned over the bed until his crape-covered face was so close to 
 that of the banker, that the latter could distinguish the glowiug eyes 
 beneath the heavy mask, and see the beads of condensed breath on 
 the fibres. The robber gazed at him attentively, and then, more 
 as if speaking to himself, said, " The same as ever. I should have 
 known him anywhere. You wear well, old man. Tours must have 
 been an easy battle with the world, if wrinkles are to be counted as 
 scars." 
 
 "Thank God!. I shall be able to swear to his voice," thought 
 Crosier. 
 
 "Do you know me ?" asked the robber. 
 
 The banker tried to say " No," but his throat and lips were dry 
 with fear, yet the man understood by the mere movement of the 
 mouth what was meant. 
 
 " Have you no enemy in the world who would like to play you such 
 a trick as this ? Come, think !" continued the ruffian. "Try and 
 call to mind the name of some one who hates you ; of one w r ho would 
 work his fingers down to the knuckles to ruin you ; who would pray 
 or curse if his breath could blight you." 
 
 The banker shook his head. 
 
 " Turn back that memory of yours," snarled the ruffian. " Think 
 of olden times. Have you wronged no one ? Is there no blood on 
 your hands ; do you expect no vengeance ?" 
 
 The old man thought of the daughter that had died in prison, but 
 he grew dogged at being so roughly questioned, and still shook his 
 head. 
 
 The ruffian began to lose temper. He breathed quickly with rage, 
 and leaned closer and closer over the bedside. " By Gr — !" he cried, 
 " I could tear that strong heart of yours from your withered bosom, 
 since it feels so little, and knows no repentance. Look at me, man ! 
 Now do you know me ?" As he said this, he lifted up his mask of 
 crape, and scowled upon his prostrate victim. 
 
 " Vautrin," murmured Crosier, in a tone so devoid of astonishment 
 that it was evident he had long ago recognised his tormentor. 
 
 " It is long since we last met," Yautrin said, in a calm tone. " Per- 
 haps you never reckoned on seeing me again. I dare say you 
 have often prayed I might leave the earth and make more room for 
 you. Foolish old man. Many a night have I stood before this house, 
 and, w r hilst you slept comfortably, sworn to have this meeting. You 
 were the master then. I was not prepared. Now I am the better 
 man." Each of these short sentences was accompanied by a different 
 gesture, quickly changed, but all energetic and threatening. 
 
 The man's vehemence prevented the banker from collecting his 
 thoughts. The finger pointed close to his face, the fist shaken before 
 his eyes frightened away his ideas. He could plan no means to 
 escape punishment, and felt he was in the Frenchman's power. 
 
 " I have come to settle our long accounts," continued Yautrin. 
 " I will begin with system. First, where is my wife, your daughter ?" 
 
 No answer was given. 
 
 "Where is her child — my son?" hissed Yautrin, bringing his 
 mouth so close to the banker's face that the breath made the grey 
 
404 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 hairs nutter. " Where are they ? Answer me, or, by the Heavens 
 above ! it is your last chance of ever speaking again." 
 
 " She died," was all the old man had strength to reply. 
 
 "You killed her," quickly retorted Yautrin. "She was your 
 daughter. The life in her came from you, and you murdered her. 
 If I offended you by making her my wife, was she the less your 
 child ? I was honest then ! If she preferred my chances in the 
 world to your wealth and power, did that rid you of a parent's 
 duties ? You beast, it was your hand that slew her. Shall I tell you 
 how and where she died ?" 
 
 The old man was wonderiug to himself how this Yautrin, after his 
 cruel desertion of his wife, had the boldness to refer so calmly to her 
 death. As he did not reply to the question, the other continued : 
 
 " She died in prison, of a broken heart, praying God to forgive you 
 that most wicked murder." 
 
 The Avords sounded harshly in the old man's ear, and he shuddered. 
 There was biting truth in them, and it gnawed at his heart. " I 
 tried to save her," he gasped. 
 
 " Old man," snarled Yautrin, "as you hope for heaven, do not bar 
 its entrance with lies. If the daughter was beyond your aid, why 
 was the child cast aside ? You have your excuse ! I know it. 
 You fudged up a report that your daughter was a mother but not a 
 wife. Not contented with her life, you took away her honour as 
 well. You denied her grave with your unjust wickedness. Where 
 is that boy — my son ?" As he asked this, Yautrin ground his teeth 
 and shook his open hands over Crosier' s face. 
 
 " That boy was turned loose upon the world. Your flesh and 
 blood, sir, has been wdthin a finger's length of the hangman's grip. 
 JSTow I come to you for justice. Years ago you knew that boy was 
 lawfully begotten. He has told me of your offers to ship him away 
 from England, and, like so much rubbish, shoot him into the waste 
 ground of Australia." 
 
 " What do you want ?" asked Crosier. " Is it money ?" 
 
 The son-in-law looked at the old man with contempt. Then, with an 
 assumed nobleness of manner, he said, " How you have loved this 
 money. For it you sent a daughter to a felon's prison ; to save your 
 gold, a grandson was apprenticed to roguery and crime. Even now, 
 when your life is mine, you call your money to the rescue, and think 
 to escape." 
 
 Despite this virtuous harangue, the banker knew well enough the 
 object of Vautrin's visit. 
 
 " I have come, sir," said the man, " for my. money, and not for yours. 
 I am not the robber — I am the victim seeking justice against the thief. 
 This is my law court. Six months ago your wife died. You knew 
 my son was lawfully begotten. Even the marriage certificate was 
 shown you. Why was he defrauded of his inheritance ? Answer 
 me that." The threatening manner in which the thick fingers closed 
 around the bludgeon made Crosier tremble. He saw the hand grow 
 white as the violent straining of the grip forced the blood away. 
 
 Hurriedly he replied, " Yes, I was wrong. I admit it. He shall 
 be righted, I swear it." 
 
PAVED WITH GOLD. 405 
 
 " I give you three weeks," added Yautrin, " and, if by then you do 
 not fulfil your word, you die. That is my oath." 
 
 " Be it so. I agree," the banker cried, eagerly. 
 
 " Now, give me the key of your iron chest," Yautrin continued. 
 " You forgot to present your daughter with a marriage portion, when 
 I took her as my wife. You used to keep your money in that safe. 
 "Whatever it contains I will accept as the forgotten dower." 
 
 A hope crossed the banker's mind. He would arise, and, whilst 
 appearing to comply with Yautrin' s order, make so much noise that 
 he should alarm the house, and bring the servants to his aid. First, 
 he began to cough, pretending that the cold, after he left the warm 
 bed, affected his lungs. Then, as he went shivering to the dressing- 
 room, where the iron safe stood, he upset a chair and knocked against 
 a table. An old hand like Yautrin was not to be easily deceived. 
 He observed mildly to the banker, " You had better transact this 
 business quietly. I have friends down stairs. If any one attempted 
 to enter this room, do you know what I should do ? — kill yowl" The 
 hand of the banker shook, as he tried to place the big key in the lock 
 of his chest. The heavy door, as it opened, did not groan more than 
 did the unfortunate victim's spirit. The robber stood over him, 
 and ordered him to pull out paper after paper. " Make baste, sir," 
 growled Yautrin. " You have notes here. I advise you to find them 
 rapidly." 
 
 It was a heavy bundle, thick as a roll of ribbons. It made Yau- 
 trin's waistcoat pocket bulge out as if he carried his handker- 
 chief there. He knew by the banker's face that the amount was heavy. 
 His good humour returned. He remarked, in a pleasant tone, " "We 
 have not finished yet, but in a few minutes you shall be rid of me. 
 You must sign this paper." He drew forth a stamped document. 
 "A little legal affair," explained the rogue, "stating that, in con- 
 sideration of your affection for me, you have, of your own free will, 
 presented me with the amount of these notes. I will fill in the 
 amount to-morrow, when I have reckoned it up. I thought it 
 would prevent any after unpleasantness. Now to bed again. Fulfil 
 your oath, and I'll promise never to trouble you again." He blow- 
 out the night-light, placed his lantern in his pocket, and withdrew, 
 locking the door after him. 
 
 Yery quietly did Crosier remain in his bed, listening to catch 
 some sound indicating the departure of the robbers. He struck 
 his repeater frequently, to learn how the time passed. He was per- 
 fectly astonished to find that what he considered at least half an hour 
 was only a few minutes. The house was so silent, that he had mis- 
 givings whether he might not be the only living man in it. 
 
 At last, he found courage to ring the bell. He pulled at it until 
 the wire stretched and looped from the ceiling. Then came a quick 
 footstep, and a voice asked if master wanted anything. " Unlock 
 the door," was the hasty command. The footman, with his coat 
 slipped over his night-dress, stared in wonder, as the excited Crosier 
 told him that thieves had broken into the house and stripped the 
 place. The servant looked in amaze on the disordered room and 
 forced drawers, and believing after he had seen, set up a shout for 
 
406 PAVED WITH GOLD. 
 
 help that caused the bedroom doors to open and inquiries to be made 
 with marvellous rapidity. 
 
 "Where was the gallant soldier that should have guarded the cita- 
 del ? The father flew up-stairs to seek the bold son, calling out 
 passionately for the sluggard to arise. But his angry voice ceased 
 suddenly. He saw a form lying full length across the passage, and in 
 an instant felt that it was his child. 
 
 The servants heard the old man whine and sob, and hurried to his help. 
 The lifeless body of the first-born was raised and carried to the bed. 
 "Whilst father and sister mourned over the corpse, men were gallop- 
 ing on swift horses to summon doctors from far and near, whilst 
 others, half-dressed, ran through the village, shouting for help and the 
 police. 
 
 Soon the house was crowded with constables and surgeons. The 
 pulse was felt ; eyes exchanged sad glances ; and the lancet-cases were 
 returned to the pocket. The men of science retired and left the case 
 to the men of the law. There was no hope, unless it was for ven- 
 geance on the slayer. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 ACCOUNTS AEE SETTLED. 
 
 There was one poor creature connected with that unhappy family 
 who, all unconscious of evil, rose cheerfully from her bed, thankful 
 that the daylight had returned again to send her dear Merton to 
 her side. He would be there at eight, she thought. Two hours 
 more of patient waiting, and his arm would be round her waist, and 
 his lips on her cheek. 
 
 The sad news came harshly upon her. Had the people of the 
 hotel known how dearly she had loved that wretched man, they would 
 have dribbled out the miserable tidings so that she might have 
 guessed at her sorrow. But to them she was merely Mrs. Tattenham, 
 a friend of the dead captain. 
 
 The landlord undertook to carry up the intelligence. He rather 
 liked the office. He gave strict orders to the waiters not to speak 
 a word. He would manage the business. 
 
 "Whilst the breakfast-cloth was being laid, Bertha stood watching 
 at the window. She desired the waiters " not to bring up the eggs" 
 until Captain Crosier arrived. They answered, " Yes, mum," in their 
 usual tone, but could not help strange thoughts passing through 
 their minds. 
 
 The landlord made his appearance. Bertha wondered what he 
 could have to say to her, and listened coldly to the remarks lie passed 
 upon the weather. At length he coughed and commenced the speech 
 he had prepared. " Sad affair that, last night, ma'am, at Swanboro.ugh. 
 
PAVED WITII GOLD. 407 
 
 They say Mr. Nathaniel Crosier is nearly out of his mind." She lis- 
 tened inquiringly. " You have not heard of the robbery, then, 
 ma'am ? They broke in about two this morning, and, I am told, car- 
 ried off an amazing quantity of things." Having reached this climax 
 of his news, the landlord coughed again, and hesitatingly said, " I 
 hope you will not give way, ma'am — or allow your feelings to — over- 
 come you, but no hopes are entertained of Captain Crosier' s re- 
 covery — in fact, he is no more." 
 Poor Bertha ! 
 
 They put her to bed, and the same doctors who in the morning had 
 stood around the dead body of Merton Crosier were now consulting 
 over the almost lifeless form of the girl he wouljl'have ruined. She 
 lay without consciousness for two days. The women of the house 
 came often to the bed and spoke to her, but not a limb was moved in 
 answer. The doctors sighed when they felt her pulse, and then said 
 such things as: "life is trembling in the scale," and "we must 
 trust to Nature ; that is our only chance." The nurse had stringent 
 orders to force open the lips, and drop ether into the mouth. " Miss 
 one half hour," said the medical gentleman, " and she dies." 
 
 The inquest on Merton Crosier's body took place. The surgeons 
 who performed the post-mortem examination gave it as their opinion 
 that the deceased had died from disease of the heart, accelerated 
 by excitement. One man, when he read this verdict of the jury, drew 
 a deep sigh, as if a heavy load were taken off his shoulders. The 
 fellow called Tater-trap Sam knew more than the doctors. He re- 
 membered very well the struggle that had taken place on the land- 
 ing, and how he held a thick cloth to the dead' man's mouth to 
 smother his cries. It is possible that the captain died of a diseased 
 heart, but Tater-trap Sam was certainly the accelerating cause. 
 
 Three days after the funeral, a lady in deep mourning insisted upon 
 seeing Mr. Nathaniel Crosier. He repeatedly sent word he wished 
 to be private, and could not be disturbed in his affliction : but the 
 visitor was stubborn. Finding that her entreaties were of no avail, 
 she called for pen and paper, and on the hall-table wrote a letter, 
 which she signed " Your daughter — Bertha Crosier." She was ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 He pitied her because she wept so bitterly, and therefore listened 
 patiently to her story. His quick brain soon understood the part his 
 son had acted. The private marriage at the Registrar's, and Merton's 
 disinclination to introduce his bride into his father's family, were 
 sufficient for the banker to guess the remainder of the romance. 
 But he was softened by the loss of his well-beloved son. He had 
 the mercy not to undeceive the poor girl. " She is virtuous, and, 
 Heaven be praised, unharmed," he thought. "Why sully the memory 
 of my unfortunate boy ?" 
 
 " Did dear Merton leave any will ?" he inquired, in the gentlest 
 tone he could utter. 
 
 When he heard of the will drawn up wliilst the knowing soldier was 
 
408 PAYED WITH GOLD. 
 
 courting her at her mother's house, and in which Bertha Hazlewood 
 was left sole possessor of whatever her lover might at his death 
 possess, the father rejoiced greatly, for now he foresaw there would 
 he no occasion to disturb the secrecy of the deceit. 
 
 The banker kept the promise he made Vautrin. He summoned 
 up all his courage, and although he cursed and swore as he made over 
 the moneys to his grandson, managed to sign the deed. His hatred 
 to Vautrin extended to the man's offspring; indeed, it was only when 
 he learned that at the time of the burglary Philip was in Paris, and 
 could not, therefore, be inculpated in the robbery, that he considered 
 himself justified in fulfilling his oath. 
 
 The news of this inheritance had already been communicated to the 
 young man by his own father, whom he had met lounging on the 
 Boulevards, dressed in a style of fashion which, as a man of fortune, 
 he was entitled to assume. The roll of notes had done what nothing 
 else, in the opinion of the world, could have done — made a gen- 
 tleman of a scoundrel. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 C. WHITING, BEAUFORT HOUSE, STRAND. 
 
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