LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1024, 6 October 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

TWELVE OUNCES OF BLOOD. ["Dublin University Magazine."] A summer dawn was creeping over smokeclouded London and lending an unusual beauty to these quarters most easily beaut'fied ; old Father Thames looked laughing and radient as he glided past the sombre wharves. A few gleams of this early light, struggling through the nastiness of a narrow and un wholesome riverside street, found their way into a small, close, and altogether undesirable bedroom. They fell upon the figure of an old man, who, sitting up in his bed, his straggling white locks falling dishevelled upon his face, appeared to be listening intently. Perfectly motionless, scarcely breathing, he sat and listened to certain faint and only just perceptible sounds which appeared to come from the room below the one he occupied. Suddenly-yet quite quietly—he slipped his bare feet on to the floor, and creeping across it, essayed to open his bed-room door soundlessly. He was not successful in tbis. The illconstructed and unoiled hinges emitted some distn ssing noises. He emerged upon a small, dark landing, upon which two other doors opened. He looked at both; they were shut. Moving with the utmost caution, he opened one door after the other, each a little way, and peeped in In each room he saw a slumbering form lying upon a narrow and unattractive bed. Apparantly satisfied so far, he then pro* ceeded to creep down the little dark stairsAt their foot he opened a door and ad' mitted himself into a small and gloomy shopThe morning rays could not yet penetrate so low in the narrow street as to light this unpleasant little dungeon. Nothing was clearly discernible, but all the same, the old man knew well where each article lay. This place had been his world for some forty years, and he was not likely to make a mistake if he were blindfolde I. He proceeded straight to the counter, and quickly put his hand, unerringly, upon the till. He opened it, and one touch within was enough to tell him all. Of course ! how could he expect anything else? His ear could never have deceived him. In his dreams he had distinctly heard the lock picked—the chink of the money when extracted from its hiding place had entered his slumlcfingear. And waking, afrom a nightmare, the scarce audible movements underneath his room had told him that his dream was reality. The thing was old to him now. He had expected it for some ten years, and now it had come. He was insane enough to keep a roll of his precious hoarded bank-notes there —fool ! Why had he not obeyed his many doubts, and hidden themjm some more cunning place ?

But he did not pause to curse his folly, or bemoan bis loss. He uttered no exclamation. He quietly shut the till down, and then looked at the windows and door. All was right there. ' 'Tis Jacob then, as I knew it would be ; well, I'll undo him yet,' he said to himself, as he turnei and proceeded with the same quiet caution to find his way in the dim light upstairs again. He went straight to the door of one of the bedrooms that he had before peeped into ; entering, he with some difficulty secured the door behind him and looked round the room. It was a meagre enough place as to its general aspect, but it contained a few articles almost out of k< eping with it. The slanting sun-rays fall upon a very miserable dressingtable and revealed some rather luxurious toilette requirements which lay upon it. The old man poked about among these. He then opened a travelling trunk which stood near, and felt cautiously among its contents. • Halloa, uncle !' remarked a wide-awake voice from the bed, just as the old man bad about finished his inspection. ' What are you after ?' He rose from his scooping position, threw back his grey locks, and looked round with a sudden rage rising in his eyes. 'Jacob,' he cried, 'you have robbed the till!'

The words came forth like a burning and terribio accusation, hut the only reply to them was a prolonged laugh, hearty enough, though with a peculiar snigger in it. When it was over, the voice again came from the bed.

• Why, uncle, don't you know me yet ? As if I'd be such a fool as to rob your precious till 1 I should expect you to find me out if I ran to the other end of the world, and hang me with your own hands. Besides, it wouldn't be worth my while. It's one of those street urchins that are always hanging round the shop, because they think you're a millionaire. I hope you'll catch him, only don't wake me again.' And the speaker tossed himself over, rolled himself up in the bed-clothes, and soon began to snore, leaving the old man full opportunity to continue his search if he choose.

But he did not choose. He was convinced by Jacob's words, and the thoughts they gave rise to in his mind that the money was not to be found here. So he turned to the door, thinking to go down and examine the shop again. But an idea struck him as he approached the landing. He stood irresolute upon it a moment, and then, very quietly, opened the opposite dior and entered. 'lt couldn't be Tim,' he said, apologetically, in a whisper, as he closed the door behind him, * but I'd best look round everywhere '

H e stepped towards the bed first, and saw there a slumbering young man, flushed and breathing heavily. He moved about uneasily from side to side. The old man watched him a few moments, and was afeout to turn away, and examine the room, when he was arrested by a half-waking movement of the sleeper. He stirred in a disturbed way, and then drawing his hand up from uiu'er tliH clothes, thrust it out, and, extendin "• it, let fall a handful of money on the tlooi. The old man rushed towards the bed, and dragging the clothes away, beheld banknotes, gold, silver, and copper, ill lyiLq around the youth's limbs, while clutched in one hand was a tool for lockpicking. 'Xhis Tim flung after the sc ttered money on tuj floor; and then, probably aroused by the cold air which was clilling liim, opened his eyes suddenly, he reviewed the scene Sefore him for a few seconds; and struck by the look in his uncle's face, opened his itouth to speak. He

was extremely" bewildered, and failed to articulate anything, bo be sank upon the pillow again. • And it is you,' cried the old man, ' you, my boy Tim, that have robbed me ? Fool ! Fool I You would have had all my money -I meant you to be a gentleman, but never a penny shall you have now. And you have lost it all for the sake of these few banknotes, ''urse yru —to pay me back this way for all I've done for you—kept you in idleness and let you do as you liked, and be as lazy a hound as you wanted to be—and this is my reward.' The old man trembled with passion d his voice had risen to a scream. All the u hile he was gathering up the money from the bed with shaking fingers. Tim, meantime, had once or twice tried to articulate, but he was so confused that it seemed probable he had not gone to bed quite sober. At last he succeeded in bringing out the words - ' I didn't do it!' ' Didn't do it ?' echoed the old man, with the bitterest contempt in his voice. 'My Gcd! What lies will you tell me? Am I not to believe my own eyes ?' He had gathered up all the money he could see, and holding it in his trembling hands he left the room, kicking the dorr to behind him. He went into his own room and hurriedly threw on some clothes. Then he quickly went downstairn, locking the door at the foot of the stairs and putting the key in his pocket. He opened the shop dcor and etLe ged into the now sunlit street. Meantime Tim sprang out of bed, and tried to clear his head by plunging his face in water. But he was not much better after the process than before it; and he stood disconsolately in the midst of the room, mopping his wet hair. Presently his eye fell lupon something. A bottle ef particularly nice brandy, which he knew was the property of his brother Jacob, stood temptingly upon a table close by. For a moment he merely wondered how it came there; the next he wendered whether a little drop wouldn't make him feel better. And the next he was in the act of d?i»k ng off a good st.ff glassful of brandy and water, unaware that an eye was fixed upon him through a crack in the door. ITo hfi c.nnfinnrd.)