LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1627, 8 May 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

HER CHILD'S CRY. [Prom " Belgravla."] The story I have to tell is bo very slight, the incidents are so very homely, and the people whom it concerns are so ordinary, that more than once I have taken up a pen to begin it and put down the pen again beside the virgin page. If I attempt a mere narration of fact, without adding color or emotion, the interest of a reader is likely soon to flag, and he may probably resent finding in a publication where he expeots subjective fiotion in naratives, a simple and literal account of things, people, and events such as he is accustomed to meet in the columns of a newspaper. As I have determined to go on, I hope I over :estima ( .e the danger. And now for what I have to tell. I live in the S.W., district of London, and when I take the train for town Loughborough Junction is the most convenient station. One dull heavy day in the October of last year I booked at Loughborough for Ludgate Hill, and took my seat in a thirdclass carriage of a Southwestern train. It was neit'.er for economy nor for "the pride that ape 3 humility " that I travelled thirdclass ; but my business obliges me to spend most of my time alone, and when I have as opportunity of getting among people, it is good for my business that I should see and hear as many of my fellow-creatures as possible. Hence I prefer the frequentlychanging crowd of a third-class carriage to the thinly-masked solitude of a higher class.

On this occasion the carriage in which I found myself had only shoulder-high compartment partitions, so that one could see from end to end, There were in all seven or

eight persons present, and I was ifl the hvt compartment but one, with my back to the engine, and in the right-hand corner as I sat. For a few moments I engaged myself in observing the five or six people scattered up and down the major portion in front of me. Then looking over my shoulder I found that the compartment nearest the engine contained only a woman with a young baby in her arms. She was sitting with her back to mine. Owing to the violence of the wrench I had to give my neck in order to «ee her, my glance was brief ; but whila it lasted I caughtsight of an expression such as I had never before seen on human face, an expresson which so affected my curiosity and wonder that after allowing a little time to elapse, and just as we reached Walworth road, I shifted myself to the other end of the seat • n which I sat, and, throwing my arm carelessly over the shoulder high petition, looked long at the pair. In the sense that a nnrpriflino: revelation may fascinate any one, I was fascinated.

There was no need to fear my long staro might disturb the woman. I knew by the way the woman held the baby that it was asleep I could not see the face of the child. The mother held it close to her bosom and bent low over it. Although I could hear no word of hers, even when the train Btopped, her lips moved slowly, paused awhile, and then went over again the very same phrases. At length I learned the spoken Words of the passion-weary lips: 'My darling! My baby son! My own ! My own !' Mothers' r-rdinary words, but to what an unutterable accompaniment of pose and look. . ~ , Without being deformed or hideous, she was without exception the ngMest wonder 1 ever saw. There was nothing loathsome, repulsive or malignant in her face, but it was completely ugly. The skin was coarse in texture. The 'or.head was ragged at the temples, the hair at the right-hand aide of the rmrting grew an inch lower down than at the other, and the upper portion of the forehead projected at the line of the hair. The nose was thin at the point, upturned, splay where it met the face, sharply sunken where it joined the forehead at the bridge, and small for the other features. The cheeks where heavy and livid, differing in color from the rest of the face only by having a few blotches, The mouth was large, with prominent thick lips that never closed neatly and that always remained heavily apart and leaning outward when motionless. The chin was long and feeble. I did not see the eyes ; they never for one moment were removed fiora the sleeping infant. 'My darling ! My baby son! My own! My own! Did ever any other heart yearn so overwhelmingly over any other being ? Was this a now manner, a higher, more intense f of maternal love ? And had all else of that kind which I had seen been only the prelude to this imperial theme of passion ? Although the chain was weak, the expression of the whole face indicated strength, but strength irregular and of uncertain action. The eyes might hold the key to the whole face.

'My darling! My baby son ! My own ! My own!' Theee words, beyond all d übt, were the clue to her whole nature. That child, beyond all doubt was the acme of her p-esent life. She was as unconscious of the presence of the strangers as though she sat alone with her child under a palm-tree in the oasis of an ocean of sand.

' Ludgate Hill! Ludgate Hill!' The train stopped and I got up. She, too, rose with a shudder.

♦My darling ! My baby son! My own 1 My own!' I left the carriage, and in doing so noticed that she had some difficulty in opening the door I turned the handle for h<?r, and assisted her to alight. She looked up : 'Thank you, sir.' leap set blue-gray eyes with strange red points of fire in th<>ro, like sparks of glowing charcoal seen through damp glass Her bft hand and arm swathed the baby to her bosom. The hand lay visible and bare j on the third finger was a wedding ring. Who had wooed and won this woman whose sheer uncomeliness, would be enough to shame all tender words, turn away all tender glanceß 9 And how was it that she, whose appearance scouted the thought that any man could saek love of her for her appearance, had nevertheless reached the crown of woman's dreams, motherhood, and yet had room for nothing in her heart but the cry : 'My darling ! My own !' She was not a widow The child could have been no more than a few months old, she wore no widow's weeds. And yet he whose coming with words of endearment must have been an apocalypse of delight had already faded into nothing, passed out of her heart, leaving no trace of his imago behind, not even in the face of the child, for her eyes did not seek behind the baby for her likeness. It was only: ' My own ! My own !' I confess that all the day I was haunted by the face of this woman. I could not get it out of my mind. When I read, it came between my eyes and the page. In the street I found myself looking for it the crowd. I kept paying to myself the words indicated by the lips, but never breathed by the voice. I was detained in town until a late hour. In the evening I met a friend. Dr. Robert William Baird, of Brixton. I invited him to supper, and we turned into a restaurant in the Strand.

After supper we lit cigars. I thought I noticed a look of painful preoccupation on his face. ' Has anything unpleasant happened ? ' I asked ; * you seem out of sorts.' He shook himself, smiled, and roused up ' Oh, dear, no ! Nothing the matter. I did not know I was looking blue. To tell you the truth, I was thinking of a very unpleasant scene I witnessed to-day. You know Langton, the solicitor ?'

'No.' ' Michael Seymour Langton, you know ? ' His name, no more.'

' A good fellow. A great friend of mine ; you must know him some day. Well, I looked in at his office to-day. He's always up to his eyes in work ; but unless he has a elient with him he's always glad to soe a friend. One of those free-and-easy, goodhearted fellows who, without making you feel a bit uncomfortable, will tell you to be off the moment he wants you to go, so that you need never be afraid of doing him grievous bodily harm by staying a while if he'll let you.' 'Well?' 'Exactly. But I can't help telling you about him, he's such a capital fellow. You and he shall dine with me next Sunday. Eh?' ' All right as far as I am concerned; but about the incident or scene V 'Quite so. "Sit down," he said, "sit down old man." Then looking at his watch, he said, "If you've got five or ten minutes to spare, I'll show you the most perfect development of the genus scoundrel that I ever met." ' I had the five minutes to spare, and moreover I always am open to make a sacrifice if by so doing I can get a glimpse at anything superlatively good or bad; my liking for you illustrates what I say, arises from your superlative badness.' " All light, Baird ; but for goodness' sake go on,' said I—a little petulantly, I fear, for I was not in a very jocular humor, and the exuberant garrulity of the good little doctor jarred my nerves.' 'My dear fellow, you knov my motto, ' slow and sura.' ou can never get the real flavor out of a story or port by gulping it down. Taste it curiously, and you fill your whole body from your forehead to your feet with delicht, especially in the case of port—when it's good.' I expostulated only by a s'gh, I knew him thoroughly. Had I expostulated in words he would have broken out into further digression. 'Well,' he resumed, after a few solemn puffs at his cigar, ' I waited. " .Now," said Langton. A knock sounded at the door, and a man entered. At first I thought Langton had made a false diagnosis of his

visitor, for anything less scoundrelly than tt e appearance of the man 1 never saw. He was of the medium height, well made, handsome, with light blue eyes, straight nose, straight mouth, dear complexion, snd a mrst winning and disarming smile. He appeared to be about thirty eight years of sge. His moustache and whiskers were brown, and ih? well-shaved chin was very firm and clean in outline. Hpon the whole an exceedingly proper man. and one. I thought, likely to be very popular among the ladies 5 in no way like yon, my dear Melton. ' Well, he came into the room with a bow and a smile, holding his hat across his waistcoat in a most genteel, humble and conciliatory manner—thin. For a moment he seemed in doubt as to whether he and Lanaton were to shake or not, and, tc tell you the truth, I thought it both rune and painful for Langton to thrust his han .'a so emphatically into his trousers pockets and straddle over the hearth-rug as he did. ' Mr Langton,' said the stranger, in a very soft and winning voice. ' I have come, as you know, on my wife's and my own busine°p. You remember me ? lam Antony Ryland 'Be assured I remember you," answered Langton in a most impolite tone, and with a most scandalously unprofessional empha°iß on the word you. Why. that much impoli'e emphasis on a pronoun in the second person would ruin a first-class medical practice, I tell you. We have strychnine and prussic and in the pharmacopoeia, but Impolite emphasis is a thing unknown to the faculty.' said Baird, drawing down his waistcoat slowlv with bis 1 ft hand, and solemly raising his glass with his right, keeping his left hand the while, and looking into my face with malicious deliberatenes*. (7b he continued.)