READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.

Grey River Argus, Volume XIII, Issue 1600, 20 September 1873, Page 4

READY -MONEY MORTIBOY.

■A MATTER-OF-FACT STORY. Chapter XXXVII. — Continued. Follow me, astheoldnovelisfcsusedtosay, to Paragon-place, Gray s Inn road. This pleasant retreat lies on the east side «i the road, not very far from the lordly entrance' to t Gray's Inn. Paragon -place is a ciddc sac; and as it consists only of six houses in all, it passes a peaceful and quiet existence, having but lit'le intercourse with the outer world. It consists of a single row of five houses, with anotlie at the end, looking down the court. They face a paved alley of ten. feet in breadth. The northern / side of Paragon-place is bounded By a "brick wall, eight fet high, set about and garnished, for the better protection of the inhabitants, by a plenty ful top-dressing of broken bottles. The wall may also serve as a protection to the printers' offices which lie beyond. At .all. events, it is a barrier insuperable betwe.wi Paragon-place and-" the printer. Thu£fashion seperates itself from business : leisure and retirement from compulsory work. I would that we might linger over Para-gon-place and its inhabitants. About every house their hangs half a dozen histories ; from the tale of every dweller might be woven a romance of real life that is, a tale of ! ( sin and suffering, of poverty and sorrow.' ' We have to do with one only. It is the third tenement in } <■ the row. Like the rest, it consists of three main rooms, lighted each "fore and aft" — the front window looking into the court, the back commanding a view of a small yard beyond, about six feet square, containing a water-but and a heap of rubbish There is «i staircase leading to two rooms, one over the other, above. On the left hand of the door, as you go in, is a sort of closet or small room, which may be used as a bed-room when ' the family' overflows ,tlie rest of the house. It -is lighted. and|. ventilated by .;an aperture giving space for a single pane of glass. The doors of the houses, which were once painted green, but long years since stand open. Everything about the court is intolerably dirty. - Odds and stray bits oivegetables, as cabbage stalks, potato peelings, and such small wreck and debt-is, lio about the stones ; a gutterruns along the wall, down which is merrily flowing at this moment, the bucket of soapsuds which.No I has just emptied into it. Two children, having hastily constructed a model ship out of a splinter of wood, have launched it upon this river, and are watching its progress down the tributary, stream to the great Mississippi of Gray's Innroad. They run out with it into the street, and stay there. . Then the court is : quiet again, except for the pulse of the steam.pyess, which is never silent:! The sun shines on the windows of the printers'.'. office.,and is reflected back on the doorstep of No. 3, where sits, basking in its warmth, a figure, muffled as- if it were winter, an<l smoking a long clay pipe. He is apparently bent and doubled up, from the effects of age: his' shoulder's stoop, and his back is rounded. On his head is a soft felt. hat, much too large for. ihim, whidh flap's 'down on the side nearest the door^bu^is lifted up on the other, side to catch the sun. •: A crutch is beside him. In his hand is a copy ;of the day beforyesterday's Daily TeUgmph; and he is reading aloud, sJowy and painfully, roakmsr comments as he goes— not n>nnini> so much as crawlint?— to his companion, a child of nine or ten. who is sitting on the stones, with his back against the wall, ii the reflected sunlight. .: The boy's head 1 is hare : his feet are bare. - One sleeve of his jacket is quite gone, the oth'-r nearly. Bis trouser are all rents and tatters.' his white legs gleaming. -through the holes His shirt will no longer button, and shows signs of approaching dissolution. All this is a trifle, because 1 the, weather is warm ; and rags are just as comfort able in warm weather as anything else. Besides, the boy has not been brought up iv a school; wh'ch teaches the cultivation of personal appearance by means of sartorial art Hp;wag far more interested in the problem of how to, satisfy that wolf which every daygnawed at his stomach, and instigated him toget food by any means. "So you see, Bill," said the politician, in a- thin,, quavering voice, "the Guvmenfc's gorn and done it ageiv-attd thf country's goin' to the devil. Now, if I was^nthe'Ouse^ — " -.. . He atopped> and folded his papev ; • '! Don't go into tiie 'Ouse, Thoozy." said ihs child. .. ..^ "It's not the workus, stoopid. ' It's the House of Parlyment. Some day I think I shall go— to representFinshury. I wish there was the price of half-pint in my pocket. Who's the swell "coming up the court?" ■ . ; . i•• • The "swell," who was looking inquiringly up and down the court,' seeing the pair outside the door, turned Ms steps in their direction. ' : ' 1 • CaWyon tell me"— lie spoke to the smoker, whose face was hidden by the flapping hat—" if a Mrs Kneebone lives ? about here?" i I -...- He removed his pipe from his mouth, and his great hat fr >m his head, and stood upright in the doorway,* waving his hand with an air of authority. ■" i ' ■: > Dick Mortiboy looked at him in astonishment. Behind the wrinkles and lines, of age lay— not the colour, because the face was "perfectly pale aiid colourless j nor the shape, because the cheeks were sunken and the features prominent ; nor the comeliness, because the the whole figure was starved and pinched 1 ; nor the redundant locks, because the: scattered hairs, 'nearly white,/ lay sparse.and, thin about his ' temples—but an indescribable look of youth. He was about four feet and a half in height ; but then he stooped a good deal, .fie had oh a long, coarse coat, made for a gr-own man. His legs were cased in winter trousers. He had a ; tliick - flannel shirt, and a wrapper round his , neck. His chest was flattened in — his legs bowed — his body bent. Dick, standing before i iim on the stones, stared at him without aspeakhig.,. He had never seen, this kind •of cfeatnre before. " When you tlwnh you'll reckonize me again," said the boy, sarcastically, "praps you'll let me know." i ■■■■■■ ' / ."It isa boy, by gad," said Dick. "The child previously addressed as Bill set up a yell of delight, clapping his hands and dancing round. It was the best juke he. ever assisted at. The other relaxed from his sterness of expression! ■'■ conceeding an aged smile 'to' ■♦"he frivolities of "the aitaatioh. ■ ■ ■ * l Ate ybuaboy. or ar.e ypu ja roan ?" aeked Diclc ' ' : V What'-s your nainej T.ell me something about'yourself." .■■■ '. i

" You can read, 1 suppose 1" said the nondescript'.witha patronizing air. " You can do ihat much; I presume. Young Bill, the writin' materials. Give the old man his bit o' whitin'." .- Bill produced a piece of chalk from his trousers pocket. MHere y'are, Thoozy. Hooray !" Thoozy inspected tue * materials' with care, and looked for a point. This-riu what mathematicians woxild describe as a rough eijcqsihedrony or twenty-sided soliu —was difficult to find ; Imt selecting something which < would suit, he marched 4ravely down the steps, and, turning the seeve of his coat up to his elbow, while he supported his long tail under the left arm, raised his, right hand to the brick wall. Then he'stopped, and turned round ! again. .: .... : . ....... , : . ; '• You can spell ?" he said to Dick, Hooking at him. sideways, as if with- bus- \ picion, but always with an eye on Bill. ' .-/. Dick nodded; ■ il And read 1 Because I'm not going Ito take all 'this trouble for nothink, you know." ; Little Bill screamed, and rolled himself over and over upon the cabbage stalks. Thoozy, with one eye' on his young companion, proceeded slowly with his talk. : „•■♦-•, .•■♦-• Then/ he said; stepping back, and admiring the effect, of the sunlight upon his strokes, ' ' there's aC, and a 00, and a Ek. If that don't spell Cook, that aint my rianie, and Methoosalem aint my ; natur." : " Oh, lord," cried Bill, " aint he a fiz- ; zeri" .«.-... .j-,.. ■ Dick Mortib'oy 1 took the cigar out of Ms mouth, and contemplated the pair with an expression in which curiosity had the best parj. . ....--■ : "So you're Mr Methoosalem, are you 1 : Pray, is this Bill,— little Bill ?" . "That is Bill, mister," said Thoozy, \• ' and a very good little Bill he is. I educated, that there' boy; Bill, show the gentleman what you can do : the Catherine Wheel, my child." - • He had resumed his commanding position on the doorstep, and issued his orders with a wave of Ids pipe, like the director; ;of a circus. i The boy went through the graceful performance known' among his friends of the ipavem'eritasthe Catherine Wheel. "HoopId!" he cried, bringing Tip his bare and dii-ty feet within an inch of Dick's waistcoat. ''Itaughthim the Wheel," said Thoozy. ' ' I'm too old to do it myself. He learned ihe ' Hoop-Id i'hisself the night we got hold of two gallery checks for the Gaiety Theatre. He learnt that there of a fine gal — dooced fine gal, sir. If 'I was_ a younger man — " here he stopped and winked, with a sigh. " JNow, Bill, the Inverted Column." . ' "Nevermind the Inverted Column," said Dick. " Here's a shilling for you, Bill. Go and get something to eat." "Half a pint will be enough for me, iWilliam," cried the other, grandly, relighting his pipe. "Arid get a penn'orth o' belly ache 'for yourself first. Plums that is, sir," he explained to Dick. ' ' How. old are you, may . I ask 1" said Dick;-' v: :; " ■■■'■:.'■■ .!-■■■•■■■■ " Eighty-six I am— a great age. I was seventy when; I was born, sixteen year ago." And I've been getting older ever My old woman in there is only seventy-five." " Who is your old woman?" , ''Here. she is — Mrs Kneebone, sir, herself : the lady you was axing; after. Not my wife, you know, nor yet my mother, nor my grandmother. Come out, old woman. .Here's a gentleman wants you t» drink his health." She was as withered and wrinkled as Vleihoosalem himself, but without his look of childhood. In her hand she held i wo- den snuffbox, from which ever anon she refreshed herself . She wore a dress of some kind of stuff, black in colour, and a bonnet on -her head which might once have had some shape. At present it had none. An old woman who muttered as she went along: a creature who would have been burned* as a witch in the merry ' old days : an evil-looking, miserable old Woman. She shaded her eyes from the sun, and peered up at the stranger. "I don't know you, sir. 1 can't let you in. I never saw you before. You can't come in here." " What are yer talking about?" said Thoozy. " Wlvi said the gentleman did know you! "Who talked about comin' in ? Yah ! He wants to have five minutes of your lively society, and he wants to look at you, ■'■' You aint none too pretty, neither." " I want some information, for which I am willing to pay," said the stranger. " About' how long ago, sir ?" asked the old woman, with a look of terror at the hoy. " About twelve years ago." " What about twelve years ago ?" She shook all over.. r „ " That's when I begin to remember plain," said the boy. •"•" Go ahead, sir— l can answer' your questions. Old lady, cut it. Now go, d' yer hear ?" "Thoozy, my dear, be careful," she said, in a trembling voice. . "Oh, be careful." "Cut it,- 1 say. : Careful indeed I Now .then, sir; Youcan't have a more quieter and more gen.te.eler spot than Paragonplace on a warm day in September, about two o'clock p.m., in the: afternoon. The haristocracy is gone to the seaside, and there's no one to interupt us. Fire away . with your questions." He put his hand in his pockets, and sat down on the doorstep again. " First, then, that child. You said his name was Bill. BUI what?" "Lord help you ! He aint got no other name. Now, sir, do , you ,think— l_ askes you as a stranger — do you think it can be done for the money ? Where's your profit ? That's what I say; Where's your profit to come from out of five bob a-week?" He.,stuckhis thumbs in his arm-holes, and looked as sagacious as a publisher. " Who brought him here ? How old is he ? Who does he belong to T "A-hem! As the proprietor of this yer hospital, and, I may say, the resident physican, I hold put my hand, and I says, ; saj'sl, How much?" ■ . ... "Isn't Mrs Kneebone the ' proprietor ?" " On'y in the heyes of the bobby. If anything goes wrong, the coroner holds his inquidge round the comer, and Mrs Kneebone she goes before 'era and swears. I sits at home and smokes my pipe.' 5 "Good.. Tell me all about the boy. Here's a sovereign down, and five more if the inquiry leads me to anything I want." " How do I know what you want ?" " That's just it. You don't know, and. so you can't tell lies." " Don't be too sharp, young feller, else '

you might fall down, though, you are s< ■ig, and cut a hole in the pavin' stom s Bill was brought here, a three-weeks"' baby, just nine years and a-half ago. There was -the devil's own trouble to keep him goin' ; and lie wouldn't have been kep' goin' at all, only his mother come round herself every day." " What was the name of his mother? Nine years and a-half ago ? Who was his mother ?" "Polly Tresler." Dick gave a low whistle. ■ 'You're sure of it? You will swear it 1 You are certain of the date ?" "Take my dick on all the Bibles in the jug. Ask the old woman. Here, mother, come out again !" She hobbled out. " Now then, old lady, tell the gentleman how old Bill is. Shcnv him your book. She's got a book, sir, and puts 'em all down." " I'll show him that page," said Mrs Kneeborie, looking suspicious, "but no more, for five shillings." It was a sort of register she brought him, covering about twenty years. She turned over the pages slowly, and at last arrived at her date. "There you are, sir. Read it, but don't look at no more." Dick read — "Nov. 5, 1860. Boy-three • weeks old — to be called Bill. Eighteenpence aweek. Mother's name and address, Miss Tresler' — (here an old address had been scrached out, and a new one substituted) -"P.T., Post-office, Market Basing." Dick's eye ran down the list on the page. There were abemt half a dozen in the year. To four of their names was the word, "Dead." To one, "Taken away by his father." Bill made the sixth. "And that boy, sir, lie've been the apple of my eye. He have indeed." Thoozy winked, and jerked his pipe, which he had resumed, over his left shoulder, to indicate that his partner, or : Principal Nurse of. the Hospital, wa3 practising a little amiable deception. She , went on without noticing. " The clothes he's had o' me ; the oranges and apples, and — and — and the tripe he's had : its what you wouldn't believe, sir. A beautiful breakfast he got only this morning." "Kincliined a kid and collared a bloater in the gutter," interposed Thoozy. . " Now, don't tell no lies. A idle, good-for-nothin' vagabond, as won't work, and won't do notliin' but smoke and drink." — (Here. Bill arrived with a cargo of plums and a pint of beer, which Thoozy tackled on the spot.) — " It's ten v years, sir, if you'll believe me, and I wish-a-ma-die if it aint gawspel, that that boy said he was gettin' too old to work, and hasn't done a stroke since, but eat up all he can lay his hands to." " Ten years !" said Thoozy. "So it is. I was only twenty-six then. I made a curious discovery, mister" — here he winked sideways at the old woman — " a very curious discovery ; and I thought I'd make the most of it. On the strength of that there discovery, I'm a-goin' to spend my old age in a honourable retirement, as they says in the papers." The old woman moved her lips, but said nothing. : " About this boy, now ?" said Dick in reply. [ " Here he is. If you've given him ' clothes, old woman, he's worn 'em out ; and if you've given him grub, it hasn't ' agreed with him. Here, let me come in, 1 and I'll take down all you've got to say. Is there such a thing in the house as a | table, and paper and pens? Don't be ' afraid, I'm not going to do you any harm." ; He pushed by the woman, who tried to 1 stop him, and passed in. The entrance to ; the house was like the entrance to Hades, ! a* seen by iEneas, when, aided by the ■ Sybil, he undertook that perilous adven--1 tureofhis. " For there were'straight- ; ( way heard cries, and wailing loud, and the spirits of infants weeping." : Dick pushed < ipen a door, and lookec in. , There were lying on the floor, in sheets ■ and flannels, four babies, from a few weeks to a year old : one or two clutch- . ing at life with strong and eager little ! fists ; o»e or two meagre, thin, and ema- ] ... ciated.' The old woman bustled by, and ■ began to apply feeding bottles with great ; assiduity. j Dick looked at Thoozy with disgust. " This is your precious ~ hospital, is it, i ' you little iropi Have you got another! Tooin 1 ?" " There's my room and Bill's, up at tlie ' top— let's go there. Bill, run and fetch the gentleman a bit of paper, and a pen, 1 and a penn'orth of ink. Upstairs, sir." The stairs were horribly, fearfully dirty and noisome. Creeping -things were on ! the walls. The bannisters were broken 1 away ; and on the top floor, where the boys slept, the planking of the stairs had been taken up to be burned for firewood. ; There was no furniture in the room ex- ' cept a table, and a bed spread on the fioor. Thoozy sat on the bed, and looked wistfully at Ms quiet guest. ' ' You don't want to do no harm to Bill, . \ do you, sir ?" speaking quite naturally, and like a boy. " You won't hurt he, will you ? 'cos Bill's the only friend I got. ' The other boys laugh at me : says I'm too 1 old to live long, and asks how long ago I ; was born, you see. But Bill, he was a right good sort, and we've slep' together ever since he left off pap. My boy, BUI ; is." "I won't hurt him, but I shall take him away from here." "If it's best for him, I shan't say no- ' think. Don't believe that 'ere old woman, ;- sir. I would work' if I could. But I ' can't. I'm too weak, and nobody won't \ have nothink to say to a baby farm boy. 1 I tried sellin' papers in the streets, and cigar lights ; but the stronger boys pushed me about. I aint strong, sir. Look at my legs." He pulled up -his trousers, and showed a leg about half as thick as Dick's wrist. . ' ' And I'll tell you something more about Polly, too, sir, if you'll be good to Bill. She -was married lawful to Bill's father, 'cos I heard her tell the old woman ' so. He was a sailor, he was. And he went to sea. You aint the man, are you, sir?" . Dick started. Here, indeed, was news worth having, " You boy, find out that man's name, and keep a quiet tongue in your head, and I'll help you all round — except to find work, which is the only thing you can't get in this blessed old -country." " The old woman knows his name. I'll get it for you, never fear. She's afraid of me, she is, since I found her out. But I she won't do it again, she won't." ■'. " What is it you found out ?"

' ' Here comes Bill, " said Thoozy. ' ' And the old woman too — " Dick lulled out five pounds, and laid them on the table. " Now, Mrs Kneebone, let us understand one another. This is for your information, provided it proves correct and true on subsequent investigation." The old woman eyed the gold greedily. She began her statement, which was in substance presisely the same as Thoozy had nude; gave the dates exactly from her book ; explained how the baby had i left with her at a charge of eighteenpence a week, increased first to hah 0 a crown, and of late months to five shillings ; swore that Bill was the child, and then held out her hand for the money. " Not so fast," said Dick. " All that I knew before. This boy told me." " You little devil !" cried Mrs Kneebone, viciously, to ThoOzy, who nodded his head and laughed. " I want more. I want to know about the boy's father. What was his name ? ; and when was he married to Polly Tres!ler?" " You want to know too much. Now, tell me, do you want to do Polly a bad I turn ?" "I don't want to do her a good one, certainly. But I want to do a good turn |to a friend of my own. And to get at i the way of doing it, I want all the information I can lay my hands on." ' ' She's a bad lot, Polly i<3; I've knowed i her for sixteen years and more. Ah me, I 1 wasn't always in this poor place ! But there — many's the good thing I've done for Polly. I introduced her to her first, clown Poplar way— when 1 had as tidy a little tobacco shop as ever was. Ah ! dear me." "Her first?" Dick looked sharply at her. « ' Who was her first ?" " Oh, he was amate— married atLime'us Church. But they didn't get on. Polly used to beat him ; and she got ashamed of a husband who couldn't beat her like the other men. A good quiet sort of body, too, and a first officer. Bowker Ms name was. So he went away to sea, she went away from Poplar too." « There's two sovereigns for you. And now go on." . The woman looked thirstily at the rest of the money, and presently went on again. "Now, I don't know very well. She took up with a young fellow down in the country — I'm not quite certain whether he married her or not— l only heard her story afterwards. Then he ran away from her. She came up to London, and got married again." "What, a third time?" I " Well, what was she to do ? She'd run | away from her first, and her second had run away from her, and so she took up ■with another. Well, he died. He was a sailor, too. Polly always liked sailors. Only^this one used to whack her when he come home drunk, and I think Polly often enough regretted her first." " About the first. Do you know if he is alive, and Avhere to find him ?" " I do, sir," said Mrs Kneebone, "and Polly doesn't. At least, I know where to look for him ; and he was alive when I was at Poplar last, because I heard about him from some old pals of his." " What did you say his name is ?" "Don't you think I've earned the five pounds, sir?" Dick pushed them across the table. " Thank you kin lly, sir. His name, sir, is Bowker: Cap'en Bowker— good gentlemen. And I'll tell you where you can find all about him ; and I'm sure you'll consider it a extra." " Look here," said Dick flushing — nothing in all his life ever gave him so much joy as the story of his wife's progress through life — " if all you say is true, this will be the best day's work you ever did. Now, I'm going to pay you what Polly owes for the boy — five and thirty shillings. Here you are. Next, I'm going to take away little Bill." She threw up her arms in an ecstasy of grief and lamentation. " Take away my Bill ? Take away my little boy Bill, that 1 raised with my own hands ? Oh ! sir, I couldn't let him go — I couldn't really : not under five pounds, sir." " She never giv' me nothin', and she's allus whackin' me when Thoozy isn't by/ said the object of the more than maternal solicitude. Thoozy interrupted hey, authoritatively bringing Ms crutch handle on the floor. " You're a-goin' to let Mm go for nothink at all," he remarked, quietly—" so ' there aint no more to be said. Hold your 3'aw-. BiUj old chap, t2ie big swell's agoin' to take you away. He looks as if he was the sort to give you clothes, and make you respectable. Don't cry, because it's all for your own benefit ; and he seems a good un, though he is so precious big." " Come, Bill," said* Dick. " will you come with me ? Say good-bye to your friends, and come, along. Old woman, you've liad your money, Here, Thoozy, .is your share." " Don't cry, Bill," said Thoozy again, beginning to cry himself— "as it's all for the best. And what's for the best, you know, is got to be done, if it's physickin' the babbies, or a washin' of 'em." Amid the tears of Thoozy and the lamentations of Mrs Kneehone, Dick bore off Ms prize. Arrived at the foot of the stairs, they heard a curious noise above, as of heavy blows and . wres f ling. " What are they doing, Bill ?" Here came thuds and groans. "They're a givin' of it to one another. She wants to grab all the tin. Listen. Hooray ! Thoozy's got his crutch. She was always a whackin' me awful, till he got the stick. Now she's a catchin' it. Oh ! aint Thoozy a good un, just!"

Last week the Rev. Dr Lang, of Sydney, delivered a lecture in the First Church, Dunedin: subject, "A Chapter of my Colonial Life, or Colonisation of New Zealand, Victoria, and Queensland." The thoroughbred horse Architect has been purchased bj- Mr J. B. Curran, of Duaedin, and is expected to arrive by the Melbourne I steamer. He will be kept solely for breeding purposes. The Cornwall (Launces'on) Chronicle of the 11th August contains the following in reference to the horse in question:—"A Loss" to the Colony.— The thoroughbred sire, Architect, about to leave* Tasmania, .will be a great loss to the Colony, and a gain of no ordinary value to the breeders of blood stock in, New Zealand. Since purchased by Mr J. B. Curran, of I Dunedin, letters have been received by Mr | 'Page of Woodland, and other owners of his stock in the neighborhood of reen Ponds and Melton Mowbray, speaking in the highest terms of his value, and regret his being taken from the Colony. Architect is a rich bay, with black points, stands over sixteen hands high, and is half-brother to Quack."