The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 353: what you’re looking at

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

338 ERE MYSTERIES. events which had thus come to her knowledge. For, although she might unbosom the sentiments and the secrets of her own soul,—yet everything regarding her sire she looked upon as solemn and sacred: and thus the Princess Sophia remained in complete ignorance of those cireumstances of which the Princess Amelia had become cognizant, and which proved that some trémendous secret was associated with the destiny of Eaginad’s King. Rising from the window recese where they had remained for some time seated, and where the con- fidential outpourings of their hearts’ mysteries taken place, the royal sisters looked forth from the easement upon the vast range of perk and pleasure-ground stretching before them. “It is now mid-dsy,” observed the Princess Sophia, after a long dilence: and, bending her eyes en the blushing countenance of her sister, sé said, “Do net remain here, Amelia, only for the purpese of keeping me company. I kmow from all yee have told me this morning, that the hour is now a hand when some one will be ex- pecting to meet you youder.” “S§ueh is indeed the truth, dearest sister,” mear- mured thé younger lady, a sigh of pleasure esceap- ing fem her lips. “Bat you, my beloved Sopisia,” she exdlaimed, a sudden thought striking her,— a " - * ay eehalding again the der Primecas 1 “a letter the course of next week @ 8. Jamen’s palace.” allowed to embrace his ees Amelia, ghaiag tam- CHAPTER XOVI. A BRITISH WORKING MAN AND HIS FAMILY. We must now return to Camilla Morton—or rather Rose Fester: for the readez is doubtless well aware that the orphan gizl hed entered Mra. Brace’s esta- bhishment under the former name, which she had as- aamed for the reasons set forth in the letter that she had addressed to Tim Meagles. A week had elapted siace we saw her hurrying madly along, in that vile neighbourhood which lies im the immediate vicinity of Westminster Abbey : and it will be reedilected that we left her at the mo- ment when, a vertigo seising upon her, she sank de- prived of senae upen the door-step of a house. And where do we find her now? Let us endea- veur to depict a scene which, full of harrowing de- tails though it were, was but the type of thousands of such spectacles existing then, and of myriads ex- lating ai the present day ! In a wretehed garret a small family was grouped w all those unstudied but painful attitudes which A man, belonging to the industrious class, was seated upon a broken chair; and every lineament of a countenance naturally good-looking, but awfully care-worn, evinced the ravages of famine and the poignancy of acute mental anguish: His form, strongly built when in vigorous health, was so wasted that his poverty-stricken clothing hung loosely upon him—thus rendering him a ghastly object, piteous indeed to contemplate: for it was a being made in the image of God who was thus reduced by destitu- tion, and want, and sorrow to that lamentable condi- tion in which he appeared to be dying by inches In another part of the wretched room, a woman had | was suckling a babe. Suckling !—no—no—that is not the term: for the fountain of her infant’s life was dried up in her bosom-—and the child was pulling feebly at a withered breast. O God! what language can convey an idea of the shocking appearance of that poor mother and her innocent babe? Ems ciated were they both—so emaciated that the woman seemed but the shadow of what her former self must have been—and the child lay with the lightness of a feather on her thin, fleshless arm, Her cheek were sunkea’ and of corpee-like paleness: her eyes wete hollow, with large blue circles about them — the caboar had even fied from her lips, leaving them white as if Death had imprinted upon them the cold kiss of the tumb;--eed her entire appeamnce wi! 60 Wai—00 Wos fol of ir, that it seemed as if had taken a human shape and had become sified in her. The babe—the poor babe over whieh she bent, was about nse ef ten maenths old: but it searecly ap- peared to have numtbered as many weeke. The Kittle being wae 6¥ @miaciated as to be only skin and bone; and instead of having that reandness of face which wenally characterises even the infant of tenderest age, lta cheeks wore a6 sunken as those of its mother. There was no vivacity im it—scarcely any motion. Dull and quiet it lay—-net turning its head round every now and then at the sounds of veicw—sn never once experiencing the sunlight of a amile to break upon the ffosem winter of its ead and cheerless infancy. And as the starving mother bent over the famished babe, am expression of such rending despair would sweep ftom time to time athwart her countenance that, although her lips were silent, it was easy read upon her features the words of agony which she kept repeating in the depths of her heart—* Holy God! what will become of thee, poor helples ehild %” ° Near her was a little boy of about eight vesrs ok, and with a ceuntenance that was intended by nature to be round, ruddy, and laughing in expression. But, mereiful heaven! how spirit-broken—how thn— how tortured with hunger~and how wretched be looked! Languid—exhausted—with hollow eyes it which starvation’s demon glared—and shivering 10 the scanty clothes that hung loosely on his wasted frame, the little fellow presented a spectacle that would have drawn tears from a being of even ite heart,—aye, from the eyes of any one save a King, 8 Queen, an Aristocrat, or a Poor Law Commissioner! Upon the floor of this wretched garret, another boy—about thirteen years of age—was seated, & deavouring to sooth to the best of his ability & young sister who was between six and seven. miserable girl was crying for bread; and her brother, as famished as herself, was whispering in her ef all the fondest assurances and the brightest hopes his fancy could conjure up, but the realisation of ee GCORNGDOOKS COMM