The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

— ; s . a ——ee ee ee a +o? know I hate this sentimental whimpering, and if you want to drive me away sooner from you, that’s the best way to do it.” “T was but thinking, father,” sobbed the girl, * how your temper and manner had altered since dear mother died. .It is not more, than a twelvemonth ago, and since that time you have been not. only harsh and unkind to me, but have. stopped away from home for nights and nights together.,..Oh, in those long dreary nights, when here in this dreadful place I am. alone and unprotected, and the,slightest sound fills me with alarm, I cannot tell you what I suffer,’ “You are a foolish, timid girl, Mary,” rejoined Randall, ewhat.softening his tone towards her. “ What is t to fear here, that. bolts and bars will not prevent? and I should like to know who would 9 harm you whilst I had power to resent it.” _“ But it is not only for myself, father, that I fear,” pursued Mary, raising her moist eyes. to those of her parent, and. speaking in a voice tremulous with emotion; “my apprehensions are likewise excited for your own safety. I know you are not thus absent for hours on account of the nature of your calling. I have marked the change that gradually came over you, and fear that you are leagued with bold, bad men, who, having once drawn you amongst them, will. not rest until they have brought destruction on us both,” “ You had better talk about what you understand, Po “1 "answered Randall, doggedly, “and leave me to manage my own concerns. It is enough for you to know that I am engaged in that which will put more money in our purses than the humdram trade we bave hitherto been compelled to follow; and as for any injury, Poll, that it may do us, leave your father alone for not his head any. further into a noose than he can manage to draw it back again. But come, I have no. time to lose; give me my coat, and pour me out some brandy, and then rest content till I return.” Mary placed the garment before him, and filling a tum r half fall. of the ardent spirit he had required, its contents, twisted a large red hand- kerchief round his throat, threw on a long rough frieze coat, and then reaching a stout serviceable stick from a corner. of the apartment, bade. his daughter farewell, and strode away into the open street. . Mary stood by the threshold for some time, anxiously watching the rapidly retreating form of her father, until a turning in the thoroughfare caused him to be lost to sight; and then unable to suppress any longer the violence of her emotions, she returned to the gloomy room at the back, and sank into a chair, and burying her face in her hands, gave full sway to her feelings ina burst of tears, At the same time the birds, cheering up under the influence of a few rays of sunlight that. at last had found their way into that murky street, poured forth a tribute to the setting sun, ina full tide of song, and fluttered their wings against the bars, as if momentarily deluded into the belief that they were once again in the enjoyment of fresh air and liberty. . “Even those poor prisoners,’ thought . Mary, as she found her attention roused by the blithe chirruping around her, “‘ have their moments of happiness, whilst lam doomed to pass my life in this cheerless abode amid the most revolting scenes of vice and misery. With each day my father gets more brutal and more dissipated. Last.nigitt, in the ferocity of his drunken passion, he even gave me blows—it was the first time, and they struck me to the heart—and when he returns ecazin | may have reason to dread even worse usage from his hands, Icould endure all but this; harsh — aa ? ~~ > — - - LIGHTS AND. SHADOWS OF LONDON uu FE, ———— _ —-- — eee ew SS er a eee A — EE EE ew —— ll words, reproof, privations, all I could bear without a murmur, but a parent’s cruelty—never!” and thus, with her thoughts engrossed by a melancholy revery arising from her sad position, Mary sat for hours brooding in. that dreary room,.with dim shadow gathering around herin the misty twilight, until the birds, chirping in restless activity, huddled up together for warmth, and slunk upon their perches to repose, there to dream, perhaps, of the green fields and rose- starred hedgerows they were never again destined to behold, For some time Randall hurried on, threading the most intricate and unfrequented streets with the easy confidence of one who had. an intimate acquaintance with the locality, and who knew that his own strength was a safeguard against the chance of any rough opposition that he might encounter in his progress, until, coming to.a narrow court, leading to the water- side, he slackened his pace, and entered the tap-room of a dirty-locking public-house that stood at the corner of this uninviting thororghfare, The interior of the room was screened from external Observation by.a dingy, tattered red curtain fastened across the lower part of the window, and around were ranged the common deal benches and tables, that, forming a3_usual the furniture of such places, were profusely covered with pewter measures, broken pipes, and other evidences of the refreshment most exten- sively patronised by the frequenters. In an obscure corner of this room, dimly perceptible in the yellow rays ofthe gaslight—which was here kept burning all day long, the clearer light of heaven being excluded by the height of the houses opposite and the stifling confinement of the narrow court— there sat an old man, in whose lineaments might have been traced the effect of the worst and fiercest pas- sions of humanity.. His apparel was shabby even when seen by that flickering illumination; but when exposed to the full glare of daylight, it was positively repulsive. Fastened round his body by pins—for the original buttons kad long since taken their departure— was an old coat, worn absolutely threadbare by long use, and the elbows and sleeves of which were patched in every direction with clumsy pieces of cloth, that had now become as grimy and greasy as the rest, Waistcoat. he had none, but a shirt thoroughly black- ened by habitual exposure was seen instead—not through the customary opening, for his coat was girdled tightly up.to his throat, but peering out under the armpits and where the patches about the elbow had given way, and here it revealed enough to mani- fest. the wearer’s indifference to clean linen. His trousers, once of a specific and decided colour, had now assumed a variety of hues, as the mingled stains of time, ink, and beer, had at various :eriods imparted ; whilst the edges, ragged and uneven, hung low down over a pair of venerable highlows, through the toes of which the old worsted stockings underneath boldly protruded. On his head, over a mass of coarse, mat- ted, grey hair, he wore a shapeless covering which might have been once a hat, but the brim having been broken off piecemeal, and the crown having been so bent and battered that its original shape was beyond the possibility of conjecture, it was difficult to arrive at a precise idea of what portion of the wardrobe this had been once a constituent part, Such was the individual to whom Randall, after an eager survey of the room on his entrance, at onC6 pro- ceeded; and, seating himself on a bench opposite, the old man shuffled uneasily nearer to his new com- panion, and nodded his head as a token of recognition, ee Ome ee se |; CORnICLO@Oo “S) (C0) mM