The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 129: what you’re looking at

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ae 116 band of humble charity enough to purchase bread and pay for the next night's shelter. For the well- dressed and the rich ‘bestowed little or no bus either turned away in disgust, or cise talk constables and the House of Correction. Six or seven days more passed in the same man- ner ;—and thus was it that the wretched mother end the hapless children sustained an existence which they could not value, and learnt those bitter lessons that constitute the experience acquired by poverty. One night,—the same as that on which the mas- querade took place at Covent Garden Theatre,— the poor woman and her children were huddled as of wsual in the corner of the room. The light was extinguished: bat the air felt hot and sickly in that crowded place. Mrs. Melmoth’s two boys and the girl were sleeping soundly; and the sickly babe was endeavouring to draw some sustenance from her withered bosom. She herself was lost in one of those deep desponding moods which are broken from time to time by pangs of poignant anguish shooting through the heart and brain, as lightning flashes athwart the murky night ;—when her atten. 1 tion was slowly and as it were insensibly drawn to the conversation which was going on amongst se- veral of the other lodgers in tha m. In fact, she found herself listening almost Before she spon- tanéously gave her attention to the discourse ;— but its nature speedily rivetted her curiosity with its fearful and appalling interest. * What is that you're agying, Job Minks ?” asked a fellow, arousing from his slumbers and catching something which had been uttered by the individual thas addressed. “ Why, he was a-telling of us a story that he’s in- wented his-self and that I don’t believe for a minute,” said another. . “Bat I tell you that it’s true,” exclaimed the man who aaswered to the euphonious name of Job Minks ; “and I not only heard it from a pal of mine this morning, but I readit in the paper at the Beggars’ Staff where I happened to be in the after- “Well, what is it?” demanded the fellow who had just walked up. “I bheerd you a-saying something about tearing up bodies from their graves——" “ And so I did,” interrupted Minks; “and once more I tell you it’s true. For the last three or four nights there have been bodies torn up from their graves in the burying-grounds of different parts of London ;—ad the corpses have been foand all rent limb from limb and horribly mutilated.” “Bat who the devil can amuse his-self in such a fashion ” demanded the maa who had so recently awakened. “Ah! that’s more than I can tell you, Buss,” an- swered Minks ; “and the thorities would give their ears to find out. I¢ seems that the first affair of the kind took place in Old St, Pancras churchyard four nights ago. When the sexton went to open the church in the morning for a weddin’ that was to take place, to his horror and astonishment he gaw a grave opened and the body lying on the top of the earth that had been thrown up. The corpse was that of an old gentleman who had been buried a few days before ; and it was mutilated in a shock- ,ing manner. I¢ was clear enough that the person who did all this mast have had some {mplement to dig out. the earth; for mutilation had been ac- com nen bbe a blunt instrument such as a spade.” o really dreadful,” exclaimed Buss. * And yet Tei’e a feller to be shooked at a trifle, neither.” It is almost needless to observe that Mrs. Mel- moth shuddered with an indescribable horror hout her entire being, as she listened to this ap g narrative. Her poverty—her misery— and even the ess of her children were for- gotten for the moment in the fearfal interest whicir absorbed all her faculties and sensations ;—and the perspiration stood in large drops upon her brow. The hideous nature of the narrative acquired a deeper and more tremendous interest from the fact that it was told in the midst of a profound dark- ness, and in a place thronged with characters of the vilest and most polluted description. In a word, the effect produced upon her was as if a loathsome andke were slowly coiling itself around her person, enveloping her closer and closer in its slimy folde and exhaling its pestilential breath in her face, while every moment she expected its head would come in cold and clammy contact with her cheek. Such was the revolting sensation excite? by the scarcely credible tale that the man was recount- ing. . “Dreadfal, indeed !” he exclaimed, in ejacu!z- tory echo of the remark made by his friend Suss. “ There never was such a thing known before: at least so the papers say. For, mark you—this is no affair in which resurrection-men are engaged—nor yet robbers. Body-snatchers don’t leave the corpse behind them ;—and the day’s gone by when people were buried with rings on their fingers. So it ain't for the anatomy-shops that it’s done; neither is ig thieves that do it.” “Then what can it be for ?” demanded Buss. “Ah! that’s more than I can tell you,” responded Job Minks. “The second affair took place in Shoreditch churchyard; and the third it St. Mat- thew’s, Bethnal Green. In this last place, two bodies were found torn up ont of their graves— horribly mutilated, and with the winading-sheets rent to shreds. - There’s quite a panic in all those I cen tell you.” ' No wonder,” observed Buss. “Bat what are the ‘thorities going to do? asked another listener. - “ What can they do, bat fill the burying-grounds with man-traps and spring-gons and set a watch at night,” exclaimed Job Minks. “The papers say that this has been done in most of the charchyards in London and the eubarts; and so the chap, whoever he is, will be pretty sure to be caught. The resurrectionists, too, must take care of them- selves now, added Minks; “or they'll be getting riddled with bullets or have their legs caught in a trap. In Old St. Pancras there's a watch set with blood-hounds.” “And this is really true—and no larking, Job?’ said Bass, still incredulous. “ Well—all I can say is that a pal of mine told me of it first,” was the andwer; “and then I read all about it in a newspaper that Carrotty Poll lent me at the Steff in Horslydown.” “Them’s your vouchers, eh?” observed Buss. “Well, i dou't say that I shan’t believe it: but I must confess {t's precious startling. Your pal might have have read’ it slso—and we know the papers tell the most infernal lies sometimes.” ElOOO® (CO