The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 381: what you’re looking at

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

> ee ee ee eee ee - — 370 fhe old sexton wanted an assistant; and the Burker saw at a glance that the situation would suit him for the present most admi- rably, inasmuch as it would give him bread and a bed to sleep in; and of all places in the world an out-of-the-way secluded vi such as this, was perhaps the best calculated to yield him a re- fuge against the consequences of a hue and cry. His intention was to push on into the wildest parts of Scotland: but his experiences of THR MYSTERIES OF THB COURT. in this world as goes about like roaring lions seek- ing how they may dewour innocent and unwary chaps like me.” “Rather pious after your own | fashion P” said Jonathan Carnabie. “'Wery pious,” responded the Barker,—* but unassuming, unpretending, doing whatever I’m bid without axing a question—and uncommon strong and active at work.” “ And where do you come from?” asked Jona- an outeast condition were already painful enough | than. to make him wish for something settled, even though it might be nearer to Liverpool than prudence would have exactly suggested. The hope, there- fore, of becoming the old sexton’s assistant was one of the results arising from his accidental listening at the loop-hole of the vault. The other was the spectacle of the brandy-flask, which the Burker longed to apply to his ips. But how was he to introduce himself to theold man? Hark ! Jonathan Carnabie resumes his musings. “Yes—I am resolved to have an assistant— that’s settled! But I must have one that will do my bidding in all things without being questioned —that will be tutored into taking as much pride in digging a neat grave and having a care of these vaulte as I do myself. Now where is such & person to be found ?” “Here!” answered the Burker: for it strack him af the instant that this was the best, as aseu- redly it was the shortest, way of introducing him- self to the notice of the individual whose patronage he sought. The old sexton started, perhaps for the first time in his life smitten with a superstitious terror : but quickly recovering his self-poesession, his first thought was that he must have been deceived by some unusual sound. He nevertheless instinctively looked towards the loop-hole; and on perceiving that the light of the shining heavens was inter- cepted by a human form, his next impressiop was that some belated villager was bent on playing off a joke upon him. “ You have nothing to do with me or my con- cerns,” said Jonathan. “Go your ways back to the Green Dragon—uniess they have shut up— and in decency they ought—in which case go to your bed.” “ I don’t happen to have never an acquaintance with the Green J the Barker ; “and as for the bed I last slept in—— But no matter!” he i ted himeelf, as his thoughts had wandered back to the narrow iron gaol whence he had escaped. “ I’m not a native of this here willage, though as re- speetable for a poor man as any that is.” “How came you here?’ asked Jonathan | blently. a le He -_= — -— een aes os oe “Tm out of work,” responded the Burker—as indeed he was out of the work which constituted his ordinary occupation before his capture. “I’m on the tramp—I was passing through the charch- yerd—I saw the light—but not being afeard of ghostesses, I peeped m.” “ Not afraid, oh ?’ said old Jonathan, to whom this was at once a recommendation on the Burker’s behalf. ‘ “ More afeard of the living than the dead,” re- phed the Burker : “cos why there’s a many people a en eo “From Gowler—a good way off,” replied Mr. Barnes; so that this vague response might have embraced any point of the compass and any con- ceivable distance. “But where from?” inquived Jonathan, who though to-a certain extent. simple-minded through having dwelt all his life in that village, was never- habits to require definite replies to his questions. “Tm e Lincolnshire man,” said the Barker, with a tone of uncommon frankness. “As I have already told you, I’m out of work. The last job I did was for Farmer Nuggans-———perhaps you have heerd talk of him P” “I can’t eny that I have,” responded the old man. “Bat you had better step round into the church, and we will talk over the matter here. A few steps to the right will bring you to a little door; and the light from the vault will guide u.” Jonathan Carnabie evidently ¢ that the vault was the most comfortable place to sit and discourse in; and it was perfectly indifferent to the Burker where he deposited himself eo long as he had a chance of carrying out his aims. He proceeded to the little door—he entered the charch—and the light from the vault, glimmering feebly, seemed to be a dim, uncertain, ghostly halo hanging about the dead. But the moon- beams were shining through the windows; sed they helped to subdue the light of the lantern, or to render it more sickly. They fell upon the pews of dark wood—upon the pulpit standing against one of the thick upon three or foar monuments with the sculptured effigies of the long defunct warriors whose remains had bes buried there. It was evidently a very old chureh: —in former times there had been a castle in the neighbourhood ; and hence the monuments to which we have referred. The silence which pre vailed until broken by the Burker’s heavy etamp- ing feet, would have struck solemnly to the soul of any other man, and would have indaced him to tread lightly: but he was totally unsusceptible of sach im he went tramping along the aisle, indifferent to the mournfal echoes which hw nailed boots raised, and which might have bees taken for the moanings of the spirits of the de parted as they died away under the groined roofs at the farther extremity. On the mouth of the vault, Barney the Barker destended into it by a flight of stous steps; and he very deliberately seated himeelf upon a coffin near the block of stone on whieh Jonathan Carnabie was placed. The old mat started at what he considered to be an act of im pious desecration: but the Barker, not compre- hending the meaning of that movement, fancied if was produced by a nearer view of his own hang ee I Ee re a ey aye { COMMIC DOO Col