LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 612, 5 June 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

————«- ‘BACHELOR BEN.’ {Conti nned.) Here 1 uupockoted and handed him one of my best oll'usious, which I had baptised ‘ Bachelor Hen.’ ‘ I’ll look over it with pleasure,’ said Mr Redmond ; ‘ hut’s let’s go into the billiardroom, we shall be quieter there.’ . I asstnted, of course, and Mr Redmond, giving a preliminary and extra-vigorous tug at his ‘ pea,’ led the way. ‘lt’s not a bad song,’ said he, when he had read it over; ‘not a bad song by any means ; the third verse is first-rate, and the words of the chorus good. Now I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll write you a melody for it, and then I think 1 can sell it to Jim Villars, if he’ll give anything worth taking for it. You and I’ll go halves ; and then if afterwards we can sell it to a music publisher, avail share what we make by it there again.

I’ll find a pretty tune for it, you may depend. When shall 1 see you'agaiu ? Can you meet me here this day week ? If you can, I’ll have the melody ready by then, and you can come to my place and hear it played. I live quite close to here.’ Overjoyed at my good fortune, I at once promised to m-’et Mr Redmond on the day he named, and after some further conversation on the subject I wished him goodnight. I walked home that evening in a delightful state of anticipation. * I thought,’ said Ito myself, ‘ that a song like that ought to be snapped up. I felt certain it had only to be seen to be appreciated, and now I find I was quite right. Redmond will compose a catching tune for it, no doubt, and w 11 soon fin I some one to sing it; then, once having a song of mine brought out, I shall have no difficulty in disposing of others. How stupid of me not to have thought of this source of income before !’

Such were my reflections on my homeward walk, and such did they continue to be until the eventful evening when I was to meet Mr Redmond. Long before the appointed hour, I betook myself to the Rutland. The time arrived, but no Mr Redmond put in an appearance. I inquired, for him at the bar, and was told that he could not possibly be there that night, as ho had to take the chair at another hall on the .Surrey side of the water. My feelings at this intelligence cannot be d escribed, but 1 was speedily restored to my former state of mind by the. information that Air Redmond had loft a message for me ; this b eing to the effect that he was sorry that ho could not keep his appointment, but that he h jpecl to see me at his house the following morning.

The next day being Saturday, I proceeded at about twelve o’clock to the somewhat dingy street in which Redmond resided.

1 was informed by the slip-shod girl who answered the door that Mr Redmond was at home, and that if 1 made application at the thu'd-tloor back I should meet with the object of my search. ‘Mr Redwood expects you,’ said the damsel, ‘ and left word as you was to walk up. ’ I mounted the stairs accordingly, and knocking at the door to which I had been directed, a voice, which I recognised as Mr Redmond’s, bade me enter. The room in which I found myself was an uncommonly ram-shackle, dirty little den. It was sparsely furnished, and what few things were in it presented a remarkablv patriarchal appearance. There were evidently of no relation to one another, but had clearly been members of as many different households. There was first an ancient piano, which, from its battered and rickety appearance, seemed as though it had done good yeomanry service in its day and generation. Near to it was a washing stand, in such an alarming state of decrepitude that its delf had been taken from it, and placed, for safety’s sake, on a large box stuck up on end. Two out of the four chairs had, it could not be doubted, seen better days ; and as for the feeble chest of drawers, it bore upon its surface the stamp of patrician birth: its attitude, though palsied, was full of dignity, and it was clearly bent upon keeping up appearances to the last. The floor was entirely innocent of carpet, but as it was, over the whole of its surface, copiously spotted with ink, it seemed as though it were in mourning for the last bit of Kidderminster with which it had been clothed. In one corner Avas a tall stack of music, and against that side which faced the window stood a small iron bedstead, the brown-coloured sheets, &c., of which were but scantily veiled by the ragged counterpane that had been hurriedly drawn over them. In the centre of the apartment was a large table, and on this was the most singular assortment of articles that had ever met my gaze at one and the same time. There was an ink-pot and a pair of newlymended boots, a pan full of potatoes, a looking glass, razor and hair-brush, two or three books, and a walking-stick. On a small tray iu the middle stood a cup and saucer and a plate ; this latter evidently contained the remains of Mr Redmond’s matutinal meal, viz. the fragments of a loaf and the skeleton of a red-herring. Near this tray was a lamp, a woman’s workbox, and a piaybiil, while a little fariher on could be espied a small carpet-bag, a pair of elastic gaiters, a pot of pomade, a paper of tobacco, two clay pipes, and a gridiron. Not far from this well-laden board was scat-rd a poorly-dressed but rather pretty young woman, whom Mr Redmond introduced to me as bis better-half. She was busilyengaged in repairing some garments which bore suspicious resemblance to those which Mr Redmond had endeavoured to veil with his pea jacket on the occasion of our first meeting. Mr Redmond himself I found pacing up and down the room in a dirtv dressing-gown, a doubled up sheet of pap r in his hand, and a large pen cocked behind his ear. lie was evidently in the throes of literacy birth. ‘ I am sorry,’ said he, ‘ that you have had to pay me a visit in such a place as this, but’ (placing a chair for me near the fire) ‘ literature has still its ups and downs, and the nineteenth as well as the eighteenth century possesses its grub-street. One week we regale ourselves with moselle and champagne, the nest its a case of four-ale and — and— ’ (perceiving my eye directed towards the table) ‘red herring. But to business. Well, I’ve done your song, and I think you’ll like the tune ; let’s see what you think of it.’ And Mr Redmond, going up to his old piano, dashed oif a not by any means bad melody; and when lie proceeded losing ray words* it ce taiuly sounded to me one of the moot mashrly tunes I had ever listened to. « There ! 1 1 e exc’aim td, wh n he hid gone through the song and played over the air several times, ‘ what’s your opinion of it ? ’ (To be continued.)