SAVED FROM A CRIME
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A WAIF AND STRAY.
Bt T. J. Babnardo, F.R.O.S.Ed.
p (Cor, eluded.) But, alas, troublous daya were m store for Sally's benefactor ! The next news I heard from Miss Gordon, nearly two years after my visit to her house, was that she had experienced great and unexpected; financial loss es. The lady, I learned, bad invested large sums of money m Beourities tbat had suddenly become depreciated m value, and, through improper advice, had sold out at a time when to seli was permanently to cripple her future resouroea. The result was soon manifest. She had to give up her beautiful West-End mansion ; retrenchment had to be undertaken m every direotion, and carriages, horses, and servants, all were parted with. These sacrifices Miss Gordon made wfth astonishing cheerfulness, although at her great age the want of the comforts and luxuries to which Bhe had been accustomed all her life must have been keenly felt.
She resolved to retire to an old house Bhe possessed m H shire, and whioh m recent years she had only occasionally visited. Here she oould still afford to keep a comfortable household, but almost all her men-servants bad to be dismissed : she could only now afford to keep one. Female domestics were to be cubstituted for them. Her little brougham was the only carriage she felt her narrow means would suffer her to retain. Will it surprise my readers to learn that by this time my boy «• Sally," now grown into a noblelooking young man of fine physique and provnd ohftraoter, was th#> aole mala attendant whom hia mistress decided to retain m the circumstances of her altered fortunos ? Sally was to be the butler and general faototum when ocaasion served. So I spent a last evening with my old friend m her West-End house before she finally bade adieu to all her surroundings and retired, with her diminished household, to Stonetower, H shire.
Again there was an interruption to my friendly intoroonrae with Miss Gordon. For a time both Sally and hia mistress passed from under my personal notioe. I heard occasionally of them, but was too busy with my multifarious duties to ba drawn into csrreßpondenoe. I suppose nearly two years had elapsed sine* Mies 3ordon had started for the country, when I reoeived, one morning, a telegram from her to this effect : "pleate pome down af once ; me are m great iroi*ble I" As may be imagined, J was made exceedingly nervous by this communication. What oould it mean 1 Then the dreadful thought wonld rush unbidden into my mind that "inherited tendeqoy is stronger than enviroment," and that after all theqe years temptation must have come with added force, and that poor Sally must have given way to the solicitation of oiroumstanoes. I reached the little town of G— — ia H—shire about three o'clock the same afternoon, and, engaging a conveyance at the inn, arrived at Miss Gordon's house, situated some ten miles out, shortly after four o'clook. But on my way my fears were effeotually dissipated. The country was ringing with tha Btory of a seriqus attempted robbery at Miss Gordon's house. The bprglars had actually broken into the pre_ni_.es, bjjt all of them had been captured by the butler, « Who really did, Sir," Baid the garrulous driver, why was my informant, "tbe werry knowingest and cleverest thing I ever heard of," and then he proceeded, to give me somewhat exaggerated details of the event whioh had startled the whole neighborhood. As may be supposed, however, his account did not prove bo strictly accurate as it ought to have been, and I had to wait for the correct versoa till I learned it frprn Miss Gordon's own lips. The story was related as we sat cosily at dinner. It appeared thaj. at the little town of G , where my train stepped, there was an annual fair and entertainment, whioh the gantry around had been m the habit of allowing their servants to attend. In oommon with others, Miss Gordon gave permission that all her female servants should go, and, as it would be too late to return home the same night, arrangements had been mada for them S to Bleep at the inn, and return early m the 1 morning, m time fdr the day's duties, Some London burglars made it their business to ascertain that many large houses m the neighborhood would be emptied of their garrison of servants on this particular night. They had thereupon visited two or three of them, and plundered them of their most valuable contents. In eaoh oase they appear *o bays foeen well informed of the nature of the bou.e, its lomatpp, ooritenja. si?e. and general plan. Miss Gordon's bougo wag toimd on thefr list, and they succeeded ip sj.eal.hpy ejjectipg an entrance, Suddenly Sally, who fgr seourity, was sleeping that night m his pantry m the lower part of tho house, was awakened by their operations. He had, however, m prudence, to confine himself at firßt to watching their proceedings, being unable to oppose their entranoe, or even to make an alarm, as they seemed to be there m force, and he and they alike well knew tftat there were only two elderly ladies m the house besides himself. Having got admission the thieves went delibertely to the strong room, a stone chamber built m the basement, with only one entrance— a massive old-fashioned iron, door, which looked with a powerful lock, and whiob was also furnished outside with a huge bolt and staple, though the latter was seldom used. So sure were tbe depredators tbat all the servan's were absent, that they omitted the precaution ot putting someone on the watoh. They did their work, however, noiselessly, and with marvellous oelerity. The look soon yielded to their skilful treatment, and three men entered the room and lit the gas. Now was gaily/s Ume, &nd he knew it. His plan was a bold, one; frfd risky 4wi<.pQ. JJad he failed, he must have brought down, both upon himself and hia defenceless old mistress, the vengeance of the thieves. But Sally did not falter. Stealing out with only stockings on his feet, he orept along the passage that led to the strong room. Yes ! they aro all busily engaged inside, He sprang forward suddenly, _____,^ with •aU bis might, slammed the |roa door upon tl?e<' 'desperado 19 jgetfo, ' '" 1.1 -.-.j J i U .:
In another moment he had pushed home the great outside bolt into its stout hasp, and the thieves within the strong room were secured as firmly as if they were already inside a prison cell. The men instantly recognised the trap into whioh they had been > betrayed by their own caret easnesa and by I Sally'B promutitud Th •_..»• *j
promptuuae. ey Bnouted and vowed vengeance, and it may be imagined Sally lost no time m arousing the two ladies, and informing them of tho state of affairs. Mies Gordon, with an old pistol > whioh was always kept m the house, was plaoed at foot of the staircase facing the door, and Sally shouted out: "My men, you are caug.t; submit quietly. I have Bent for help, meanwhile I am standing here with a loaded pistol, and the first man that breaks out I will shoot dead." He rsally, however, orept out of the house, mounted the single horse m the stable, without a saddle, and rode poste-haste to the nearest houses. Before lqng, three or four gentlemen with a posse of agricultural laborers were at Miss Gordon's house and relieved her from her precarious position. The iron doors were then thrown open and the men ordered to march out. They had by this time realised how completely they were at tho meroy of. their captors, and they therefore quietly submitted to tbe inevitable, and were at once Beoured and immediately driven m a cart to the town of G . They had that very morning, I learned, been* examined and remanded by the magistrate until the next day, when they were to be brought up again, and when Sally's evidence would be heard. Miss Gordon was anxious that I should be present m case any question arose affecting Sally, although she was loud m her praises of her courageous young servant, and, indeed, I felt proud of him myself. The next morning I drova over with the house party and was present m court during the investigation. The prisoners were three m number, one an elderly man of about 50 ; a younger man of powerful build, 88 years of age ; and a handsome young fellow of some Bix-and-twenty years. The three stood m the dock of the little Court-house and were charged with burglary. Sally's evidence was given at first wiih great clearness, modesty, and oandour, but towards the close I fancied I observed his face grow very pale, and I was sure I notioed his voioe hesitate and his manner falter. Looking at the prissners attentively I was presently struck with tho great likeness that subsisted between the youngest culprifa_f_vSally, but it was not till afterwards that the latter told me he had no doubt that tho youngest prisoner at the bar wm his own brother 1 He had not seen him or heard of him for years, and now he only met him to appear as a witness against his misdeeds.
As they both stood m the court I could not help glanoing from one to the other, so different were their positions, the one m the dock, the other m the witness-box. Soth were fine-looking young men, but one had that degraded expression of face whioh the habitude of orime imparts, the other bore tbo frank, open air born of innocence and nurtured by honest industry. Here wbb one doing hii utmost, I might say, to prey upon society, while the other started with uplifted hands to do the right. And they were brothers, born of the same parents, and reared together for some years under similarly Bad conditions 1 What, then, made the difference ? I could not but reflect that our dear " Homes " had, by the blessing of God, stepped m m time to save the one poor lad on the brink of starvation from the consequences of Buoh an upbringing, whereas the other lad had, alas ! been left alone, and had sucoumbed to the temptations of the streets and to the evil example and teachings of a criminal mother. I felt sure that this striking episode was typioal of the forces whioh influence so many children's lives. Here were two streams of young life— own going swiftly down the fatal rapids leading to Iniquity and Ruin; the other, by wise and prudent oare, diverted before too .late into the channels of Honesty, Industry, and Virtue. Thank God 1 I said, m my hearts of heartß, for such a ministry of meroy as the dear «• Homes" have been carrying on these many years among the Waifs and Strays, the .homeless gutter children of our great Metropolis 1 Sally's position was now one of great difficulty, for, as may be imagined, his unhappy brother recognised him, too, whilst standing m the Court. Sally saw him alone, after he was committed for trial, and the prisoner then declared that if his brother appeared as a witness against him, he would turn Queen's evidence, and swear tbat the plan of the househad been supplied by Sally himself I But even before his iniquitous threat was made, Sally had expressed to his mistress his intense reluotanoe to proceed with a charge which would necossarily bring down severe punishment upon his own brother. Bather than do that, he told me, he would give up his situation and leave the country, and I may as well at onoe say that that is exaotly what he did.
The prisoners were committed for trial to appear at the next Assizes. Sally and Miss Gordon wore bound over to appear against them aa witnesses, but when the time came Miss Gordon was too ill herself to appear, and her solioitor declared that her butler was nolonger m her servioe. This was, of oourse, striotly true, but I knew also that arrangements had been made by which the young fellow might leave for New Zealand, and there meet with kind friends and useful employment, and I also knew that Miss Gordon did not allow him to leave without first conferring upon him substantial proofs of her grateful esteem, * This story may well end here, but will the lesson taught by it perish with its perusal ? I hope not. lam sure tbat no thoughtful observer of our own timeß oan fail to realise that the very same dire force., of starvation, pitiless destitution and dishonest example are at work around us to-day m London and m most of our great oities. The same agency that saved Sally is still active : whilst one set of influences is going to degrade and ruin the neglected arabs of our streets, the other is mighty through God to their salvation, body and soul. Surely these things speak to us all with loud and dear voice. '« Am Imy brother's keeper ?" was ah early expression of guilt as it was of selfishness, and to-day the same words eoho from the hearts of thousands who, comfortably off themselves, think little, if at all, of the claims whioh myriads of helpless little ohildren have upon their sympathy and care. «' If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and thoße that aro ready to be slain ; if thou sayest, Behold we knew it not ; doth not He that ponderoth the heart consider it, and He that keepeth thy soul doth He not know it ? and shall He not render to every man acoording to his works ?"
It is a great thing to know and feel that during theßG last twenty-one years our " Homes " animated by the same spirit that saved Sally, have aotually laid hands upon 11,260 destitute street children, have taught them divers trades and occupations, have sent thorn out to domestic aervice, and to various forms of employment throughout the wide world. It is something, I say, to know that so muoh has been done, and something more to feel that, at this very hour, over h,IQQ jvtt such lime Rcseutd Ones are actually m our " Homes " nnder raise training and Christian oare. Yet all this is but a drop m the ocean to the great needs of so vast a city as is our modern Babylon. I plead for the ohildren, the weeping army of helpless little ones, tho boys and girls of the alley, fhe guttef and the street, with how many tenjn^t(bns'to drag them dowri, and with how few saving influences tp raise them up. Jf I oould summon to plead before you these tender Waifs, if I could conjure up these patient faces, upon wbioh pain and sorrow have already stamped such oare and sadness, I know that willing hands and hearts would volunteer for their relief,— l know above all that the sympathies of Christian hearts would distil m dews of kindness and the tender rain of help. Jt is Christ's own name that points the keenncsp of the appeal, and the Saviour of the children seta these little Waifs before you. Will you bear the voice of the Master, «• Where are the ohildren ?" " Tbey are out m the wilds, of the oity, Out m the storms of sin, Go seek them and gather them every one, And fetoh Me the ohildren m. In cellar, m garret, m alley and court, They weep, and they suffer and pine, And the wolves of the oity are prowling near : Baok, wolves I For the ohildren ara Mine ! Men, be pitful t women be kind I Go follow wherever they roam, Go lay your hands on my little ones, And briug Me the ohildren homo." i
* The prisoners did not, however, eioape ; ' other oharges were forthcoming, and tbey l were duly oonvioted and sentenced. ]
When the brain is wearied, the nerves un strung, tbe musolea weak, übc Hop Bitterafas made by Amerioiu 00, J.ia<_
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Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 1751, 27 January 1888, Page 2
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2,702SAVED FROM A CRIME Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 1751, 27 January 1888, Page 2
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