Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 166: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

168 There stood the coach. where he had left it, but the driver was nowhere in sight. “ Hollo! ” said Jack, “‘ where the deuce has the _ fellow gone to? This is a strange freak, to leave his horse and vehicle.” | He looked up and down the street, but his gaze encountered no one; and, puzzled by the circumstance, he placed his hand on the window- frame of the coach to consider what course to pursue. ; A loud snore from the inside of the coach caused him to look in, and, by the glimmer of the lamp near the workhouse door, he perceived that the driver was sitting inside his coach fast asleep. “Well, he’s a pretty fellow, certainly, or rather, I should say, a pretty stupid. I might have gone off without paying him his fare. Well, I must rouse him up.” He was about to shake the man to awaken him, when he paused, and while a smile flitted over his face, he said— “No, I won't. I'll punish him for not looking out better after his own business, He’s sound as a top, and it’s not a little jolting that will wake him in a hurry, I should say. But [’ll first put the fare I promised him in his pocket, for the fellow deserves his due.”’ So saying, he took out his pocket-book, and extracted a note from a small roll, stealthily slipped it into the capacious pocket of the man’s coat,—then, silently closing the door of the vehicle, leaped up on to the box, and seizing the reins started the animal, who, doubtless tired of waiting so long, went off at a good speed. Jack turned his head ever and ano and listened, and still the loud snore of the sleeping driver came to his ears. ‘Sound asachurch,”’ said Jack. ‘‘T’ll have a lark with him.” Jack urged the horse on at a pretty good speed, till he arrived close to the Harrow-road, at the corner of which was a strange-looking structure, with a sort of canvas hood or covering, and be- side which, on the ground, was a rude iron pot full of round holes, and filled with live coals, which sent out a red glare over the pavement, and lit up the face of an old man who was seated beside it on a three-legged stool. The structure itself was a coffee-stall, and the old man, the proprietor, who was waiting anxiously for customers to purchase the dirty- water looking beverage which was contained in. a tall, soiled tin-kettle on the top of the stall, and kept warm by a small charcoal fire beneath It. : Jack drew rein, and, leaping from the box, peered in upon the still sleeping driver, who continued to snore in so loud a key that it was a matter of surprise to our hero how he could possibly sleep through the noise: ‘The fellow must have a light conscience,’ muttered Jack, ‘‘to sleep so soundly. However, I'll first light a cigar by that fire before I pro- ceed any further,” So, advancing up to the fire on the ground, he took a cigar from his pocket, and, stooping, thrust one end through one of the round holes in the iron pot, “It's a nice night, sir,” said the old man, SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: THE TERROR OF LONDON, > oe es from hisstool. ‘‘ Allow me to give youa ight.” : “ Thank you, my friend,’ said Jack, who found the heat to his fingers far from com- fortable. ‘* Well, how do you find trade ?” “ Very bad, sir! very bad!” said the man, fumbling underneath the stall for a piece of — paper, and flinging on to the path an hetero- geneous mass of rubbish, ere he could discover the desired object. Among the things thrown out was a piece of | stout rope, and Jack, taking it up, said— ‘Why, what do you want this for? To hang yourself ?” | oe ‘No, sir ; but times are so bad, it’s enough to make a man hang himself, that it is. Why, lor’ bless you, sir! where I used to take ashilling, I — don’t take a penny now. People don’t patronize the stalls as they used to; there’s so many night- houses open, and they thinks they get better served ; but they don’t, and only has to pay more for it. The gents used to stop and have a cup of coffee one time, but now they turn up their noses, and the only customers I gets now is the poor devils as can hardly find a penny, and comes here because they can get a warm. Oh, sir, times is bad—very bad !”’ “ Why don’t you try something else ?”’ said Jack. ‘* When one trade fails, you should take to another.”’ “‘ Here’s a light, sir,’’ said the man, offering Jack a piece of lighted paper. “ Take to another, sir? I can’t, sir. Yousee I’m not a young man, and for an old one to do any good, he wants a pound or two to start with, and that ain’t easy got, sir.’ . | ‘¢ But you could sell your stock-in-trade, and start afresh in something else.” | “¢ Why, lor’ bless you, sir! that ere stall and chaney cost me about two pounds, but if I was to get any one to buy it, they wouldn’t give fifteen shillings for the lot ; and what could I do with fifteen shillings? Will you take a cup of coffee, sir ?” “ Certainly, my friend.” ‘“‘ It’s nice and hot, sir, and ’ull warm you. J mee it myself, and I ought to know it’s good.” So saying, the old man drew a cup of the black, steaming beverage in a vessel without a handle, and placed it on the board. “Tl just pull a horse up. a little nearer,” said Jack, “ before I drink it, for I think I should scald my mouth, by the look of it. How much is it, my friend ?” ih ‘‘ Only a penny, sir.” . “ All right, Pll pay you directly. Just let me pull him up a bit,” said Jack, darting to the side of the vehicle from whence the sounds from the driver’s nasal organ still issued. ne Jack drew the vehicle close up behind the coffee-stall as the old man again sat down on the Se eee stool, and held his hands over the re. ‘‘ And so there is not much chance of your getting rid of the apparatus,” he said, feeling in his pocket, from whence he took a couple of sovereigns, and wrapped them in the piece of unburnt paper the old man had given him. “T wish there was, sir; for then, you see, I b eS 12 AU67 comicbooks.co