A Romance of the Slums.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 194, 12 March 1887, Page 3 (Supplement)

A Romance of the Slums.

Tub man who, in answer to a peculiar knock and a password from Bobs, opens to us the door of the front celltti" and lets ua in, is not a man ef preoosßeesiog appearance or j manners. But neither is he of the bull-dog type. He is simply of the lowest type that could be found or imagined in the form of man. The intellectual and moral faculties seem to be absolutely wanting in his composition, which consequently appears to be made up entirely of animal and idiot, the animal part being not unlike that of the gorrilla, only not so strong— the gorrilla wasted and emaciated by disease. By profession he is a shoeblack, as Boss b°/S already informed us ; and his clothes auu face bear witness to bis calling. So also does the room in whioh he lives. The only furniture in it is a small table, two old orange- boxes for seats, and a sort of bed, which is nothing but a heap of rags blackened with diit, and sp-ead over a number of other orange- boxes turned up-side-down. On that bed and under those dirty rags lies a woman whom the shoeblack calls his wife, though Boss does not appear to have been aware of her existence until now. The woman has not retired to rest for the night ; she has only just jumped into the heftp of rags, on hearing us afc the door, to conceat from us her appearance, for the shoeblack has pawned her boot? and stockings and her only gown for tho price of a bottle of gin for Christmas. Her face only is visible, and it ia so dirty that it can hardly be distinguished from i the heap of rags by the dim light of the tallow-candle. It is nevertheless a remark■- ■ able facp, and was once remarkably beautiful, and as soon as I catch a glimpse of it I at once recognise in it the face of a woman whom I have seen before. And it is quite evident that the recognition is mutual, fur as soon as she sees me she utters a wailing cry and hides her face in the heap of rage. Let me tell you how I made her acquaintance and what I know of her. It ib only a scrap of hor history, but that ecrap is enough to give us a pretty clear insight into her past career. One Sunday night iv the middle of winter, three years ago, I was informed in the vestry that a woman— l think they eaid a lady— who had been present at the service was still in the church and desired to see me. Her object in wishing to see me was one with which I am very tamiliar ; she was in distress and wanted me to help her. Nothing could be more commonplace. Women in distress come to us every day in the week. But any one could have seen at a glance that this particular woman was not one of the common herd of either professional or amateur beggars. Her clothes were common enough— nothing could be much worse. She bad scarcely a shoe to her foot. But her language and manners were those of a well-bred lady, aud her face atill looked as if it had once been eminently beautiful. Moreover, she was gentle and modest in her demeanour. She did not begin by saying that Bhe had " seen better days " She simply said that ahe wa3 in great distres3, without food or shelter, and that it was tbrough her own fault, her own most grievous fault— that, in short, she had brought it all upon herself. I gave a triflo— nothing to speak of, but juet enough to get a little food and a lodg ing for the night. I also acceded to her request that she might be allowed to call at my house on tho following day, though I never expected to Fee her again. She did call, however, at tho appointed hour, and I asked a lady in experience in dealing with women to ccc her for me and to let ma know what she thought of her. The larly wa3 much taken with her and pleaded for her most earnestly. "I am afraid," she said, "from what she has told me that she has not always been prudent and good, but she seems penitent, poor thing ! and to have suffered very much. And I believe her to be a lady, that is, I believe she must have been brought up as a lady, for puch manners as hers are not acquired late in life. She eaye she is an artiet, and could get work at some shop if she only had decent clothes to go there. Suppose we try her and give her a chance ? I daresay I could find a few things that would do to set her up in the way of clothes and boots, and there would only be her food and lodgings for a week or so, In that time we should be able to see whether her case is one we could effectually help or not, and we need not entrust her with any money." This suggestion waß carried out Board and lodgings were provided for her, and the lady gave her some of her own clothes, and amongst other things a very good ulster. And in the course of two or three days she came to us, looking very cheerful and nice, and informed us that she had been successful in finding work and was eroing to enter upon it next day, which statement proved quite true. • For some months she continued to do well, working for the same employers, attending church regularly, and giviag great satisfaction to those who had helped her to recover herself. Then to our grief she suddenly disappeared and I failed to get, any tidings of her. When I went to see her late employers they told me simply that she had left them and that they did not know what had become of her, and when I asked tho cause of her leaving, they only said that she waa very clever and might have earned a good deal of money, but was too fond of ardent spirits. Look at her now ! then look at the fellow Bhe calls her husband !— " English^ Illustrated Magazine."