Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 277: what you’re looking at

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

——— el ' SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: diately to that gentleman that his boxes and trunks had been opened. | “Take them away,” he said. “I will not charge them with anything, for [ cannot bear the idea of prosecuting—but take them away !—take them away !’ THE TERROR OF LONDON, 279 of such an absurdity, he would have knelt toa better woman than before. No; he was satis- fed with a quiet expression of lis love, aud an equally quiet assurance that he was not detest- able to his new charmer; and-so, in less than a month, there was a wedding in Barnstable, and He moved his hand towards the door, and the | Mrs. Greaser became Mrs. Bacon. officers led the confederates out, and as the last disappeared, the old man sank in his chair. ‘What a fool ’ve made myself,” he eried., “Oh, what a fool !—and at my age, too.’ For some time he sat looking ruefully at the table on which the dice had been thrown, and then, suddenly springing up, he muttered— ““T have been foolish, very foolish ; but I will be sono more. What couldan old man like me want with a young wife, unless it was to annoy me, and make me jealous of her? I don’t think I should have cared fur her long, I’m sure I shouldn’t. She is not so beautiful as I thought her. Iwas deceived. What a fool I must have been not to have seen she was not what she pre- tended to be, and that paint only made her more lovely than she really is.’ _ Sour grapes, Mr. Bacon, sour grapes! But he would not acknowledge that. “Marry my cook !”’ he muttered, after a pause. “A very pretty suggestion, truly! Marry my own menial—a woman so far beneath me in station—preposterous! And yet I don't know ; she is a woman not near so old as Iam. She can’t possibly be more than forty. She is not bad-looking either, and when I come to think seriously, I do not know but after all she would not make a bad partner, [If [I still live a bache- lor, I must give up the farm, and to become the possessor of one has been the whole aim of my life. No; I won’t do that. Ill keep The Hollies, and Pll ‘eet married, and settle down. I have ‘been very stupid, but I’m not the only one, Tl be more careful in future. I feel now that, at my age, I had no right to look for a girl to become r my helpmate ; and I have been punished for my presumption—punished by the loss of-a good deal of my hard-toiled-for cash, and the ridicule that is thrown upon me. Well, never mind, Tobias, you must live and learn. Older men than you have been duped, so make the best of a bad job. ‘Think no more of Floren- tine, and turn your attention to the cook. The Hollies will be dull without a mistres 3s, and what better wife can I have than one who, like my- self, is not too proud to labour ?” Having thus given vent to his feelings, Tobias retired to bed, ‘and rose early, as was “his wont, the next morning—rose, with the form of his cook—a respectable, homely-looking woman of five-and-forty—in his mind, instead of the lovely Florentine, who had so long usurped his heart. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” you know; and the way to the affections of the Widow Greaser was sooner found out by the will of Mr. Tobias Bacon,—ay, and even before he breakfasted that morning ; for Tobias was not a man to dilly-dally, as we have seen before. “ Strike the iron while it’s hot,’’ was his motto, and strike he did to the purpose. But one thing he did not—that was, he scorned -to go down upon his knees to Mrs. Greaser, as he had to Florentine ; although had he been guilty a re eT CHAPTER XCV. JACK HORSEWHIPS THE SQUIRE. Havine seen the disreputable gang of swind- lers lodged safely in gaol, Jack returned to the house at which he had put up, and partook of supper. He had no wish to be seen further in the business, and resolved to start for the metro- polis on the following morning, intending to walk several miles through the countr y, ere he engaged a post-chaise to take him home. Accordingly, at an early hour, much to the * surprise of the keeper of the house, he called for and settled his bill, and took his departure. It was a beautiful morning, and the warm sun streamed down upon the dusty road over which he travelled. Jack had no particular object in view, and sauntered along as if the flicht of Time was the greatest indifference to him, pausing ever and anon to examine some object, or listen to the birds as they carrolled on the boughs. A rustic now and then came trudging along the road, looked at him with an ignorant stare, crowled. out *‘ Good morning,’ > and passed on with his long, heavy strides, or a shoeless urchin would look up from his task of keeping off the crows, flap his clappers as if in honour of his presence, and express a hope he wouldn’t go further without finding him a copper. “Talk of the beggars of London! ” muttered Jack, as he passed on after flinging a small silver coin to one of these little wretches, which, by the way, the boy seemed half afraid to pick up from the grass at his feet, after it had been civen him, “6 they are numerous cnough, and impor tunate enough, heaven knows! but nearl y every person you meet in some parts of the country are beggars to a lesser or greater de- eree.’ And so they are: but what makes them so ? The wages they receive for their labour is so small, that when they come near a person evi- dently better situated than themselves, they can- not refrain from asking assistance. There is very little pride among the agricul- tural labourers ; and, to a certain extent, they look upon the better favoured as a legal prey. It has often been remarked by the country sentry that the cottagers pay their rent one day, and bee it back the next. Certainly they have a hard stv ugele to keep soul and body together on such little means ; still, the want of self-respect and self-reliance makes them ereatly the beggars” they are. There has been a good deal said and written about the hardships of the agricultural labourers, and their hardships are many, there can he no denial; but it is doubtful whether they are not overdrawn—-whether the symptoms sought to A a ' ! | al