The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 218: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

212 like a coal of fire upon his brain—a serpent’s fang within his breast. At an early hour the following morning, the two domestics, overwhelmed with grief, made their appear: ance before the authorities, and declared that the housemaid, Mary Baxter, who had been but a few months in her situation, and whom they represented as their niece, and a confirmed somnambulist, had fallen through the skylight the preceding night and killed upon the spot. The grief of th’ pretended relatives was so naturally acted, and the house so respectab'e, that not tho least suspicion was enter- tained of any thing like foul play. The farce of an inquest was gone through, and a verdict of ‘ Acci- dental death” recerded; one of the jurymen merely remarking that the deccased housemaid had very delicate hands. A humble grave in the secluded churchyard of Charlton received the remains of the once happy Ellen, and ere the turf was green upon the little mound which covered her, the event in the quiet neighbourhood was forgotten. , That same day Prim paid a visit to the Rising Sun in St. George’s Fields. “ Another babby!” growled Gipsy George, as soor as the lawyer explained the object of his visit; “I suppose it’s a HARE,” “A what?” demanded bis visitor. “A hare. Had it been a poor man’s child it might have starved before you would have offered fifty pounds a year to take care of it.”’ “Do you think I am without natural feelings?” said the lawyer. “ Natteral feelings?” repeated Sedler, at the same time thrusting his tongue impudently into his cheek, « All feelings are natteral. The viper, when it bit the old fool whe brought it home to warm, as I once heard Black Mike the pedlar relate from the story book, was only natteral. The fox, when it grabs the goose, or the hawk the merry thrush, as I have often watched them do in the wood, are quite natteral The poor man when he robs the rich, and the rich man when he grinds the poor, are natteral. In short, my ’pinion is we are all natteral alike.” Prim smiled; he was naturally inclined to philoso- phic speculations, and the observation of his com- panion had given him food for one, “ You agree, then, to my proposition?” he ebserved, “ Well, I ’spose I must,” replied the ruffian, “ thof I don’t know what the missus will say. It’s rathera rum start to turn the old ken into a ’cademy, and the dona into a wet-nurse. Will you have many more scholars to send?” “Not at present,” replied his visitor; “but if I had, doubtless you could provide for them,” “ Yes, yes—I'd teach ’em summut.” “ Doubtless.” “There’s little Jemmy,” continued the landlord, with a sort of professional pride, “can already draw a fogle—and he can’t be more than rising five; he’s precious ‘cute.” * What!” exclaimed Prim, “ are you bringing the child up to be a pickpocket?” It was Mrs. Mowbray’s child that Sedler had alluded to, “ What should I bring him up to?” demanded the rufiian, moodily; “the world has taught me nufin else.” “ Very true,” observed the lawyer ; and the conver- sation dropped. A few days afterwards, the respectable Mr. Prim paid a visit to the stockbroker, and commissioned him oe THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON to buy in the three-anda half per cents te the tune | of four thousand pounds, | “What again?” exclaimed the agent; “the law must be a very profitabls profession; it’s not a year since I made a similar investment for you,” : “Tt has its pickings,” drily answered the lawyer, as he walked out of the cflice; “ good morning,” “ Pickings!” repeated the breker, lo king after him — with a glance of admiration, not unn.ixed with envy ; “considering that the law has no bowels, it has a wonderful appetite. My boy Jack shall certainly be — a lawyer.” With this resolve, the speaker finished inseribing the name of the respectable Mr, Prim, and placing — the commission he had just received, in his memoran- dum: book, sallied forth te his usual morning business upon ’Change, ees. CHAPTER X. 'Tis one of the wcrld’s pageants to behold SC Genius fettered to the leaden car A Of bloated fortune, crush'd by the yoke it draws. Eaxty on the morning which followed Fitzgerald's visit to the gouty peer, Richard Radcliff, who placed | great reliance upen the penetration and discernment of his friend, wended his way to his house. As usual, he found Lord Bamff seated in an easy chair, his feet resting upon a sort of cradle, and before him a table spread with books and papers; for, like most invalids, he was fond of reading. 3 | “ Weel, Derwentwater!” he exclaimed, extending his withered hand; “a fine gate ye ganged yesterday, I’m thinking! It’s no often I give a batch of claret, and you to no come and taste it. I’m sair fashed wi’ ye, mon—sair fashed !” It was one of the speaker’s peculiarities to use his northern dialect when conversing with any of his early friends, although he could at pleasure entirely divest himself of it. “Tam sure you will excuse me,” replied his visitor. “I knew the friendly bluntness of your nature; and, although I have been Fitzgerald’s tutor in the career he is doomed to follow, I could not endure to listen to your counsel. A specious web has, as it were, veiled the morals of the lessons I inculcated; although their effect has, I doubt not, been permanent.” 4 “I mun alloo that ye ha’e done your part,” drily observed the Scot. “He listened as patiently to my advice as though I had been a patriarch. It must have cost you years of training to bring the lad to such amind. He snapped at every word I uttered ay if it had been gospel. And yet, ye ken, it was no very saint); lesson I read the chield; indeed, I’m no sure I did: t g> a trifle too far.” . Althou, 1} -hard Radcliff longed to hear as muc he felt anno, d at the actual confirmation of his wishes, aa “It must be the portion of his accursed father’s spirit which he inherits!” exclaimed the old man, bitterly ; “ my race never could have listened te such degrading counsel; although,” he added, with a sigh, “for both our sakes ’tis better as it is.” “ Weel, Derwentwater, are ye no of a maist countable nature? Not that ye are much changed it that respect since we were boys together, for I : remember ye were no of the same turn as the rest of us. Here have ye been toiling and framing a plan for years—and I mun alloo there’s feasibility in it—to restore your name, and build up the roof of your fore Mvcomicbooks com > ; &. ‘ ™~