Tales and Sketches. THE STORY OF AN OLD COAT.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 4, Issue 1073, 13 May 1882, Page 2 (Supplement)

Tales and Sketches.

THE STORY OF AN OLD COAT.

AN ANGLO-AUSTRALIAN STORY. IN TEN BPISODES,

Of course there wasa time when the coat was new. WIT shall go farther baok even than Utft, and speak of a period when it had tho idea took possession of toe aarrow brain of stingy old James Gehworthy to invest five pounds of his beloved money in a warm garmont, of excellent quality, wherewith to protoot his lean carcasofrom tho chills of Decombr. It was December in Cribblo street, Mile End, London, E,, as well as in Curzon street, Mayfair, W. Around tho mansions of the wealthy and refined, tho cruel, snow-laden blast howled in impotont fury, because it could not shake tho massivo doors or make the heavy, tightly-fitting windows rattle. When it - discovered astray chink, and contrived to sneak through insidiously, thick curtains barred its way, rich carpets checked it, blazing fires warmed it, an equablo temperature absorbed it, Tho bitter herald of a hard winter had to content itself with screaming viciously outside:" I'm here, and I won't go away. I'll not leave you for months—for months, I'll bring bronchitis, and inflammation, and deathto' some of yon yet. You shan't escape mo, with all yourtricks.-Whoof! Puff I"

Then the wealth and refined smiled confidently in their comfortable apartments. They wero prepared for the siege, Far otherwise was it with the poor and vulgar, They shrank and shivered at tho fearful menace, for they knew it was no idlo threat, The wind-fiend is their savage enemy, Ho rejoices at their defenceless condition, their miserable dwellings, their mcagro food, their scanty fuel, their insufficient clothing, He comes to kill;' ho tells them so, as ho whistles through their chattering teeth. And he never jokes. Tho two rows of rickety tenements known as Cribblo street, Milo End, were let'out to

the poor and vulgar, in suites, generally comprising one room and a cupboard for each family, irrespective of size, At No, 12, a certain back-ohamber— without a cupboardwas occupied by a man, a wife, and a very wee morsel of humanity, Tho man was young-only three-and-twenty. His name was Mark Roper, The woman was also young-some nineteen years, perhaps—and she was called Pattie. The wee morsel was still younger, being but three days old, and having no name yet decided upon'. But they thought of calling her Pattie also—at least Mark did,

Mark Roper's misfortunes may be summed up with terrible simplicity. Ho was out of work, and had been so for the past six months, iu consequence of a strike, which he had no hand in originating, and with which he totally disagreed. During that time, the neat little cottage at Stratford had been given up; the furniture had disappeared bit by bit, the pawnshop had swallowed up their blankets and counterpanes and warm clothing, At present, the room in Cribble street, whither they had fled as the cheapest refuge upon earth, except the workhouse, contained only two chairs, a table, some articles of crockery, and a mattress on the floor, upon which the young wife lay with her firstborn folded lovingly in her arms, The parish doctor had attended her j the parish dispensary had provided medicine; the parish overBeer had allowed a little oatmeal and a little port-wiuo—quite as a favour—to help to get up her strength. So she ought to have been grateful, poor thing! Well, and so she was —grateful to God that her husband loved her and that her child lived,

"Mark! I can't eat any more now. Finish up this basin of gruel for me while it's hot, Do, dear," she said, coaxingly. "Not I. _ I can't abide it-I hate it! " he replied, trying to look nauseated by the very idea.

She raised herself upon one elbow. " You have had nothingbut a saveloy all day.Mark; aud if you don't swallow this, I'll not taste another drop you make for me—there I" " But, dear, I don't like it."

"It's a story, You do. You shall I Finish it at once, or you'll make mo ill talking about it, Go on now." He took a few spoonfuls, and pretended to drain the basin j but his wife was too sharpeyed. She watched him closely, and never relaxed her vigilance until the whole was consumed, "Now I'm satisfied," she said, sinking back upon the bolster. " Where is uncle's letter? fjWhat time did he say he would come ? Six o'clock, wasn't it?' " Yes, dear." "It's nearly that now-don'fc you think so? Uncle will do something for us, I'm sure ho will, when he sees baby. Look at her. Isn't she an angel I Such largo brown eyes, just like yours! She's the imago of you, Mark," " Your undo may help you, but not me,". returned Mark gloomily. "Ho can't help me without you, love—that's ono comfort." "He'll try it on, though. I know he'll try.it on," muttered Mark, as he walked to the stovo and placed four small knobs of coal, with great care, between the bars. But Pattie did not catch the words, because sho was listening to a footstep on the landing outside, Then the door was opened abruptly, and her uncle, James Galsworthy, walked into the room, "Phew! Here's a pigsty! Hope you'ro satisfied, girl?" was the old man's greeting to his niece. "It wasn't a pigsty I took her to first," broke in Mark, with a flash of indignation. "You shut up, Mark Roper, You'ro a fool, and you'll never be anything else," said Gelsworthy, waving him away contemptuously. " You married Pattie in spite of me, You ran away with her, and thought you were mighty clever, no doubt, But you shan't have much of my money—you shan't." " Übcle! dear uncle I" exclaimed Pattie, "you must help us-you really must, if only for baby's sake. See what a beauty she is! She smiles at you already." • "Oycs. She's all right, I don't mind her, nor I don't mind you; and I'll act straight by the pair of you, if you do what I want." "Whatis that?"

'' Why, look here, Pattie. You must just bring your kid, and come back to live with mo liko you used to, before you took up with that penniless scamp against my will." "And what is he to do?"

"Do I Work—emigrate—go to Australy —go to Canady! Anywhere, so long as lie keeps out of our way. I don't mind stumping up the coin to pack him off." " You want-to-separate meand Mark?" she inquired very slowly, fixing her oyes sternly upon his face. " Jest so," said the old rascal, unabashed by thoglancej "that's it, He can't keep you, and I can. If he likes to hook it, I'll help him to keep hisself; not otherwise," 1 ' Mark I" cried Pattie, sitting bolt upright upon the mattress, as a burning flush mounted to her thin cheeks, and her trembling finger pQi'nted to the door-"Mark I Turn that man out!"

"You ungrateful, disobedient hussy I" cried Gclsworthy in a passion. "After all I've done for you ! Brought you up from a child, fed, and. clothed you, beggar's brat that you were I" That was the last they over saw of Unolo Gclsworthy, alive, ' n. I suppose it was tho keen north-easter and tho driving sleet, in the teeth of which James

Gelaworthy had to fight his way ; home that evening, that mado him think what a very, threadbare, tln'n/andcomfortlessovercoat he had on, And seeing that ho had worn it now for some ten winters, and had originally prooured it second-hand, his reflections upon tho subjeofc are not surprising, Anyhow, the following morning, as ho gazed from his window at the unabated inclemency of the woather, 'and turned his oyes upon the dilapidated garment, hanging from a nail in his bedroom door, he settled it definitely in his mind when he muttered s " That's what I'll do.; I'll have a coat mado a-purpose," So he wont to a tailor's, and overhauled his entire stock of piece-goods before he finally hit upon a cloth to his tasto, It was a heavy, closely wovon, waterproofed, drab-coloured texture, of tho best quality; similar to that worn by grooms in livory in first-class establishments. Then he gave minute instructions as to the shape, the size, tho pockets, tho buttons, all according to his own notions of what a coat ought to be, without any regard to the "prevailing fashions," which the. tailor vainly sought to bring under his notice, ■

. When the coat was finished and sent home, lie took it back to have an inner lining stitchedpn, because it was not warm enough; and afterwards, ho took it back again to get another lining added, hecauso the first was not strong enough, " I'm not a-going to pay for a concern that'll wear out in a month,,' he.explaincd." By that time the tailor and his journeymen were thoroughly siok of that coat, and distinctly refused to make any further additions or alterations whatever.

James Gelaworthy was extremely proud of this new item to his limited wardrobe, Ho wore in on every possible opportunity, He turned it to account by knocking off fires in February, and keeping it on in tho house, for the sake of its more economical warmth, He used it as a second counterpane thrown over his bed at night. This last fact was discovered in March by his landlady, who, not having seen anything of him for two days, became alarmed on the third, and caused the door of his room to be burst open. They found him lying upon his bed, still, and peaceful, and cold, with tho favourite coat resting across his limbs, James Gelsworthy was dead. Over the mantelshelf was a bit of paper, fastened witli pins; and upon it a few words written in a shaky but legible baud: "In case of my death, the furniture and other things belonging to me in my two rooms, I give to my niece Pattio Roper, 12 Cribble street, Mile End. There ain't no money, only just enough to bury me, I drawed it all out and disposed of it months ago, Signed by me, James Gelswortm." hi. The "furniture and things" wero a real godsend to Mark and Pattie, "I'll tell you what we'll do," said the husband. " We'll sell tho lot. I'll give over looking after odd jobs, and we'll get an assisted passage to Melbourne, I've heard as how there's heaps more chanco for a poor man in Australy,

"I'm willing to goanywhero," nnswored. Pattie, "so long as wo can only manage to stick together." The real and personal estate of old Gelsworthy produced about twenty-five pounds in cash—truly a blessing to the extremely impecunious, as any one will know who ever had the bad fortune to stand in urgent want of a similar amount, and the good fortune to come into it unexpectedly just in the hour of need, The last.thing disposed of was the heavy drab overcoat by private treaty with Mr, Isaac Solomons, dealer in anything, "Well, what do you want for it?" inquired Mr, Solomons, after having turned it over several times and regarded it suspiciously, as though it were an infected'garment.

"Suppose we say thirty bob?" suggested Mark tentatively, "There's no harm in saying thirty quid, so long as nobody parts with the coin. No, my man; that there coat ain't no use to writ's too ugly; and my customers is mostly fashionable inclined,"

"But it's worth something, Look at the quality I" "Quality! What's quality nowadays? Nothing, .It's cut that's wanted; and there ain'tno cut about that thore, not a ha'porth," " What will you give ? Come I" "If I wero to spco'latofifteen bob on it, I should lose. Strike me! I should lose. No; 'pon my honour, I can't do it I" '' Well, fork over. It's no good to me—it don't fit,"

" It ain't much good to anybody, as I can sec," grumbled the Jow. But for all that he "forked over" the fifteen shillings immediately ; and the coat became the property of Mr. Solomons, IV. '■ If you had watched Mr. Solomons transacting business in his own shop, yon would have wondered how, in the namo of all the common laws of finance, he contrived to keep clear of tho bankruptcy court. Continually to be selling goods without a profit is generally supposed to bring about very unsatisfactory results. But to part with them at an appalling loss—to have them literally wrenched from you by a greedy public, heartlesslytaking advantage of the perpetual Blackness of trade-ought to culminate in disaster, speedy and complete, And yet Mr. Solomons was not submerged, Ho contrived in some fashion to'keephis head above water, and his shoulders too, in spite of the terrible sacrifices he solemnly professed to make every hour of the' day, Perhaps it was but a grim joke, a melancholy satire, when he ticketed the coat acquired from Mark for fifteen shillings as a "Tremendous bargain—only two pounds ten shillings." " Cost mo three pounds—a'help me I if I never speak another word!" ho oxclaimed to the pale and patient faced young woman who stopped to inspect it. "It would just fit father nicely," she said, more to herself than to the Jew, "And very warm and comfortable j but rather a funny shape, isn't it?" "Funny shapo! Why, it's onoof Poole's latest styles, made expressly for a markisa, who only wore it three times, and then got tired of it,"

"What is the lowest you will take ?" " Lowest! Well, if I touch a farden less than two-ten; not if tho Prince of Wales was to go down on his bended knee 3! Ten bob is quite enough to drop over one articlerather !"

"I am unable to spare more than two pounds; in fact, I have no more with me, If you cannot accept that, I must go without

" Lose a pound 1 Lose a whole pound 1 Oh, strike me, I can't, I can't I What with one and another of you, I shall bo driven to the workhouse," cried Mr, Solomons pathetically, " Well, then, good-day, sir. I must try and find something that mil do elsewhere," "Don't go. Say two-fivt>-mako it as light as you can for me—say two-five!" hepleaded, seizing her by the horn of her mantle. '' Impossible! I tell' you, I have only two pounds." Solomons groaned, as in anguish of spirit, " Give us your money I" he said desperately, " I must try and make it up some other way, I suppose," So the young woman carried away her "tremendous bargain," v, The father reclined in an arm-ohair by the fire, smoking a too highlyseasoned brier-, root pipe.. Tho daughter sat at a small tablo by the window, colouring photographs. The father's faco was of that shrunken, bloated

type, frequently'observable in drunkards when their usual supply \of alcohol has, for some reason or other,'been out off. His oyes were heavy, expressionless, and loadon i his lower lip was pendulous; bis chin was unshaven; his hands were dirty, The daughter was graoeful and pretty.. Hor. features were delicate; her complexion' pale j her expression swoet, sadj'and patient, What did it matter to lier gin-swilling parent that Bhe worked for him, tended his wants, nursed him when he was ill, was robbed by him when he was well—struggled, laboured, fought to savo him both soul and body I Was it hot her duty? He was her father I What did it matter to him that her young life was wrecked, her future.rendered hopelossi the oho lovo of her girlhood crushed and blighted by his miserable being I That was a simple necessity. He had brought her up to the idea—to hold him over and above all earthly'considerations. Was he not her father? The man who had won her whole heart was noble and worthy; yet she would not marry him. The home she might have made a smiling paradise would never be formed. Well, the sacrifice was required. Somebody must reap the benefit of her existence ; and was he not her father? " That's a wrotohed ugly thing, that topcoat," he grumbled from his easy-chair. "Bat it fits you, papa, It is nearly new, and, above all, it is thoroughly warm and well made. Those are the principal points, with your liability to rheumatism and gout." " That's right-fling my misfortunes in my face! Romind me of. my ill-health—of my pain and suffering. It's like yon I Don't let me forget thorn, on any account." "Opapa," "There, don't begin to cry and whimpor. I suppose you mean well, and are a good girl, after all, Got any monoy, Madgo ?" "Notmuch,"she faltered, trembling, "I haven't had a drain worth speaking about for more than a week. You have kept me on short allowance long enough, I think, Madge," " But see how ill you have been, papa, You know the doctor said you were to drink scarcely anything" "Confound the dootor! What does he know about it ? Besides, I'm well again now —well as ever, I really must run out and got three pen'orth, Lend us sixpence. Madge." He always said "lend;" by no chance did he ever omploy the word " give" in pecuniary negotiations. '. After many promises and much whining and persuasion, he wormed the coveted sixpence from his daughter's slender purse, She know he had no other money, and that it would be impossible for him to hurt himself on that amount.

"I'll try this overcoat for the first time," he said, as he put it on. " Yes; you are right; it « very comfortable, and will last me for ages, I'm not hard to please in matters of dress,"

" Do come back to tea, papa," were her parting words at the door. " The weather is very rough, and you are not yet strong enough to stay out late. Do come back to tea."

"Of course, of course 1 How far do you think I can travel with sixpence-a paltry sixpence?" ho inquired sarcastically. Between two and three o clock in the morning ho staggered home drenched with rain, and, alas I intoxicated, Madge was accustomed to tho spectacle. Tn silence and without reproach she led him to his room, Suddenly sho missed his coat, It was the old story. He had pawned it She asked him for the ticket, and found that it also was sold for a mere song, The coat she had worked so hard to pay for! The poor grief-stricken girl, in the retirement of her own room, threw herself by her bedside, and wept in anguish to that other Father who has promised how, one day, He will surely wipe away all tears from the eyes of those that mourn,

Tho individual who bought the " duplicate" from the drunken old man probably lost or forgot it altogether, as the coat remained undisturbed in the storeroom of Messrs, Bate and Gvindweli, pawbrokera, for over the statutory twelve months, It then became an "unredeemed pledge," and as such was labelled, hung up, and dangled before tho public as a remarkable proof of the manner in which the disinterested vendors were prepared to forego all personal profit for the general weal. The coat was fingered and thumbed and_ twitched, and tried on and turned over by some dozen of persons, before one Shortmileß, ftcabman, took a fancy to it, and eventually became its owner. And now it began to see service, He wore it hard, did Shortiniles. What with snow and rain, and frost and sunshine, its original colour grew many shades deeper. Beer stained it, tobacco-smoke impregnated it, cold pork greased it, It saw a great deal of outdoor life in Londou, and acquired an impudent, reckless appearance, Its big bone buttons seemed to stare in awful astonishment at those mean persons who presumed to offer its master less than double his legal fare, When Shortmiles tossed a coin in tho palm of his hand, and inquired of a victim: "What d'yer call this ? What's this for?" the big bone buttons seemed ready to burst from their places with surprise, indignation, and reproach. The victim could imagine them saying: "Ay, what do yon call it? What is it for? That's what we want to know. Yah—shabby!" It happened one day that Shortmiles, feeling himself insulted by the remarks of a rival cabman anent the symmetry and attractiveness of his features individually and collectively, including a definite opinion respecting the lowest market value of his face if put up to auction by a oheap Jack in tho neighbourhood of the New Cut,- leaped from his vehiole and challenged his tormentor to personal combat. The gauntlet was at once picked up, and the battle began, How furiously it raged —how women screamed, "Shame I why don't you part 'em?" aud men replied, 'Get out I why don't you leave 'era alone ? "—how a stately policeman, with a slow and measured step, approached the scene, forced his way through the crowd, and said: " Now then, stop this 'ere; show us your badges, both of yer'— how tho two combatants were summoned before the magistrate, .and fined—and how they ultimately shook hands and swore eternal friendship: aronot all these things matters of trifling concern, in comparison with tho following fact? When Shortmiles was preparing for the duel, he took off his coat, folded it carefully, and placed it under tho box-seat of the cab. Of this ho was certain, After tho struggle, when ho returned to his post, the coat was gone, Of this he was also positive; and he never set eyes upon it again.— Chambers' Journal, [To be continued,)