LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 11, 12 June 1874, Page 4

LITERATURE.

VERY LOW PEOPLE INDEED.

By Maiion Nobthcott, AUfHOB OV 'TIM TWIKKLETOH'S TWINS,' ETC. fFrom"Belg> i a*ia.:'] The fltoiy I have to tell is not a genteel one ; if it was, it wouldn't ta mine. A man •who's spent the greater portion of his days in the streets, and half his nights among tramps in a cheap lodging-honse, isn't likely to have anything very nice and sweet to communicate to his fellow-creatures; and I haven't. Things weren't always quite so rosy with me an they are even now, and at the time I knew Jim Hicks they were precious queer. The t ! me we went pardners—he with his fiddle and me with the h?rp—we had a awfully wet summer—it was bad weather for the races, and as for the steamboats, why yon might almost as well have play. I in the deseit of Sa-a for the amount of coin to be got. To make matters worse, provisions were dear and money was what they called tight; so that taking one thing with the other, it washsTd lines 15 get a ciust. Jim didn't take the tirng quite so coolly as I did; he was new to the work, having started as a machine boy in a printing office, only he didn't like being indoors, so went on his owu hook as soon as he could; whereas I'd been —first as a holder of music to the soldiers' bands in Palace-yp'd, and then as a nigger with a banjo, and lastly as a hfrpis*—mixed up with the profession all my life. Jim was no iossofer, 'twas no good telling him better times was coming—he wps a hasty quicktempered chap in a manner of speaking; it was with him a word and a blow—and often the last came first. He cursed and swore at the rain and at the bad tfmes in a way which made me shudder (having myself been brought up respectable, and attending a Sunday school when I was very young), so that what to do with him I didn't know. At last I had an idea; Itm jed it over a long time, and then out it came. We usually divided the day's gains ii Jim's room, which was a attic up a court in Diary lane—the place wasn't ve:y lively 'cept in the matter of flew, for the roof slant' i like a letter V turacd upside dov,n, and you had better be careful of your head ; then again there was only a little window with four panes of glass in it; and lastly there was no fireplace, so that in the winter Jim had to use a sort of iron crate to bum his coals in—something like the can the baked chestnut boys have, only bigger. One night I put it to him in this way— 1 Jim,' I says, 'you and me eught to be doing totter than four bob a day between the two on us ; why " Father come Home " and " The Frarie Flower," to say nothing of the " Last Rose of Summer," "Home, sweet Home," and " Jenny Jones," ought to fetch us in more than that, but somehow they don't. Now what do you say to a pardner—a vocal pardner V I put it to him quietly, because I thought he'd fiy out; and Jim's oaths, being fullflavored and frequent, weren't pleasant to a well regulati mmd like mine. To my sutpilse he took the matter very quiet: 'Any,' he says, 'just the thiog I've been thinking on myself. Of cor-so jou don't me c i for a man to join us, ' Man be blowed 1' I remarked, lighting my pipe; ' wh~, what can a man do ? Tbe public's tired of 'The Death of Nelson,' and •The Bay of Biscay,' and «Rule Brittania,' and 'My Love's Mke a red, red Rose.' No,' I said; 'we want a gal to join us—a good looking g!»", m'nd you—one with a nice orgin and some po'tiy in her natur. Says J ; m, 'l've spotted the vei/ one. She's got the prettiest voice I ever heprd either in the country or in London. Only, mind you, before there's another word said about it, I can toll you she'll want thirds.' I give Jim a curious look, and I didn't understand for a bit—it wasn't in his line to be so crreful of other people. Then a light dawned upon me, and I said, ' 0, is it a friend of yourn ?' •Yes, he says ; 'it is, and awer.y great friend too. It's the girl I'm co ••ting. What do you think of the offer?' he adds, after be had been watching me puling in silence for a few minutes. Don't you like itf

• Jim,' I responds, ' when you surprises a fellow 80, you must give him time to pull himself round a bit. Of course any friend of youra I am glad to know, a*d '? the gal's all you say, why, we won't quarrel about the farms.'

•Bight you are,' he sayi; 'suppose she comes withus to-morrow V

' I nodded, and off he went as pleased as punchi I'd often heard him speak of his Liz, who worked for a big clothier's in the city (which was hard work and poor pay), and he told me frequently what a handsome gal ahe was; but I hadn't seen her, and didn't know before she was the singer he made her out to be. Next day I discovered that both as regards her look and her voice, Jim had told the truth. 1 never saw a gal with darker eyes or a prettier mouth, but directly I see her I said to myself: 'Ah, you're just the sort of woman I shouldn't like to offend ; I can tell from the way you carry your head and the flash of them black sparklers, that you've got a rare temper.' And so she had. My profecy tuined out c'rect. The truth was the public wanted a change, and so we give it 'em. We pulled up a bit towards the close of the summer, but it was almost entirely doo to our new pardner. Liz certainly was a singer. Well, there—l've only been to the opera once, and then in the fließ, where I couldn't see nothing and on a off night, but I never heard any one come up to our Liz ! She'd often bring the tears to my eyes when she sang ' The Mistletoe Bough,' or «The Minstrel boy ;' but mind you 'twas only her voice—nothing else. When Jim, who was a neat trim-built chap, and always went round to collect, give some gal a laughing look, I've seen Liz's eyes flash like fire, and I've noticed her clench her fingers as though she'd fly at him, as they say tigers do. I often used to think that Jim used to chaff other women on purpose to vex her, and I told him of it «Jim,' I says, • Liz loves you as much as a woman can love a man, and while jou act above-board, Bhe'll be true ; but directly you go on the cross, she'll round on you, my lad, in a way you little expect.' • O' he says, laughing all over his face; «she's a jealous little fool, and it does her good to tease her a bit.' •Very well,' I says, 'time'll show ; only if you find yourself in the wrong box bime-by, don't blame me.' As the autumn went on, Jim seemed to get freer and freer in his ways, and more and more to tease Liz. She didu't show her annoyance much, bat 1 could see it was in

her. At one time of my life I kept a kitten —now you might tease that animal and pull its tail for a long time before it turned rusty, but when it did, look out for yourself. L''z was much the same, I thought—she put up with a good deal, but I could see the fire that was smouldering, and knew there would be a rf re blase shortly. 'Twas our way during the autumn months for Jim and I to spend our days on the ' G -eenv ich boa' -—the excursionists are very fond of the harp and violin, and don't care much for the vocal music ; so while we were doing our ti'ps on the water, L''z would be at borne at her own work. Jn the evening she'd join us. I soon noticed sne got very Acquisitive as to how we'd spent the day, and she used to ask me all manner of questions about Jim. ' Now look here,' I says to her ; ' don't you be jealous about him : I can C3e what's the matter ; but you must bea~ in mind that Jim's a free-and-easy chap, pud don't iun well with a bridle on him. What the eye don't see, the heart don't grieve; therefore don't ask me any questions. He means squpre to you, I'm certain.' «P I thought he didn't,' she Baid, with her eyes aU afire and showing her white teeth l'ke the trays in a dentist's shop, • I'd kill him!' Just then Jim, who'd been going the round, came back with a hat fall of coppers, and sti'king up •Home, sweet Home,' I forgot for the time what had just passed. Towards the close of September we had one remarkably fine day, and a numl jr of people took advantage of it to go on the water; in fact the boals were crowded, so that Jim and I had a very good audience. Fui.heimore 'twas a lovely moonlight night—almost as light as day ; and as we were coming up the Pool, Jim (who, on the strength of a pocket full of coin, had had a glass more than usual) took it into bis head to joke with a young gal who'd been spending the day w Ith a companion at Woolwich. I was so accustomed te this : of th'ng w llh Jim that I took no notice, but sat by the side of the boat looking at the bright reflction which the moon threw on the water. At last we came to London Budge ; but just as we were landing-, a wom?n whose step I thought I knew, brushed by me, and hastened on to the pier before any one eke. She seemed to be in a great hurry, and as she didn't wait a miaute the ticket collector thought she hadn't a ticket; so he told Hopping Dick, an old lame chap who sells papers on the pier, to see to it while he looked after the other passengers. As the woman ascended the steps beyond the pier, her face was half turned towards me, and I thought I r 3o<, lised our L i- z. My suspicions were confiimed when Hopping Dick—who had stopped her— 4 n answer to my inquiries said he was almost sure she wrs the gal who went round -with us at night. Then I knew she had been watching us. When we landed, my pardner wish i his fi'end good-bye, and off we started for L'z's lodgings in Clare market. I was half inclined to warn Jim, bet I thought after all it was better for things to take their own i course.

Wnen we got to L'z's room, we as usual, to find her ready waiting to go out, for we always ca'l I for her. Instead of that she was sitl/og at work, stitching away as though half a dozen forewomen were behind her back. Her bonnet and shawl—the same she had worn when I saw her hurrying from the steamboat—were thrown carelessly upon a chair ; but with the exception of this, there was nothing to show she had lately been out of doors. She wn apparently quite calm and d'-c Jtly we entered said—--1 Jim H'cks, "f I was untrne to you, what would you do?' Jim was a bio took aback by this sudden inquiry—it was not the kind of reception he had expected, but he quickly pulled himself togethe* and sa'd, ' What d'ye irean, L"z?' She put dow a her work qui-! quielly, and resting ber head upon her hand, looked steadily iatQ his face. The candle upon the laVe didn't give much light, but it showed Liz was in e r nest, and that she had the pull over J'm,

« Well, I'll put it other words. If you met me vi'th some other fellow, what would you do?" « Smrsh him,' answered Jim promptly. • Suppose you couldn't ? Wnat i: he was too much for you V • Then I'd hare my revenge in another way,' responded Jim with an oath. He was getting out of temper now } he didn't like this questioning, and seemed to have an ink'ing that his pranks on bor.d the steamer were known to his sweetheart. • And if I found you false to me, what then?' she inquired, landing forwrid and looking full into his face. « Confound the gal, what's up V said Jim, turning to me. Before I could nrke any reply, her jealous rage hud got the better of her. She'd teen bottling it up a long time, but out it popped at last. Her voice shook with passion as she said, ' Jim, I've doubted you for a long time, but I did l't think you were the cur you ■• re. Wiih all my misgivings, I loved you truly until a few homa ago. I've been watching you all day. I saw you on board the boat with yrurara round the waist of a girl you picked up at Woolwich. Seeing what I did, I now tell you that I hate i nd despise you. Don't come nesr me; don't speak to m: all's orer between us 1' Jim looked at her for a minute or two in silent amazement; gradually the full meaaing of Liz's words dawned upon him, and when he fully comprehended them the expression upon his face was fearful to behold. If Liz had been a man, there'd have been murder that night. As It wa*, he gave Tent to an oath or two, and then motioning me to follow be Btepped towards the door. When he got to the threshold, he turned. •Liz," he says, 'you'll repent this—your jealousy'll be the ruin of your happiness. But when you think better of it, don't come to me. For the future we're as strangers.' Without another word he darted down the stairs ; and out of tamper with them both, I followed him.

You may be sure we didn't do much that night, or for a good many nights after. Jim couldi't play either in time or tune, and he took to the driok awf 01. He pretended ue was glad to be rid of Liz ; but I thmk in his heait he regretted the quarrel that had taken place. However, he made no attempt to see her again, and we heard nothing of her for a full month. He was as proud a chap as could be, and I knew he'd never give way. "We'd just got into the new year, when one night, as I came out of Jim's place, I saw a woman crouchtd under a doorway at the top of the court. As I passed, she got up and touching me on the arm said, * Any, is that you? To he continued,