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Hawke's Bay Weekly Times, Volume 1, Issue 82, 8 July 1867, Page 160

Select Literature.

MRS BROWN’S CHRISTMAS STORY, (From Loudon Society.)

He give me a awful turn as I let him in, for lie was that haggerd and bloodshot, and spoke tnat hoarse, as you couldn’t ’ardly ’ear him. Poor thing, how. I did. pity her, for she said, in a wild sort of voice, * Alfred! what has brought you here ?A; And then he said as he’d come for her, as they must fly, and then he sat down arid begun a rocking of hisself about, and didn’t seem to have no power for to act. As to her, poor- dear, rats was nothin’ to her weakness, and her legs was all of a tremble under herias she tried to get him. to move; for Pd fetched her bonnet and shawl, as she’d told me to. She" says to me as they was goin’ out, ‘ Martha, I ain’t got-.nothing to give you hnt this,’ and if she didn’t take a little morrocky leather work-case out of her pocket as she was always a using. She says ‘Keep it for my sake, fora kinder-hearted gal, l never knowed; ’ and she says, ‘ you’ll go and look, at..my darlin’s grave, won’t you? and see at she ain’t disturbed; 1 but law bless you I couldn’s apeak 'for sobbin’ fit to break my ’eart, and I took her hand; and would have kissed it, but she took me in her arms and give me that lovin’ kiss as I’m sure came from her ’eart. And then they Went off together through the pourin’ rain, aud I set by the bit of fire till it went out, and then crep’.up to my bed, as was all of a uproar through them broker’s men ’aving lotted the things; but 1 slep’-on some mattresses in a corner of. the room, though not for long, through bein’ woked up by a ringin’ that wiolent as made me jump out of my then I thought as it was the broker’s men come early, for it wasn’t daylight; so I listens, and lieerd the man let ’em in, and then there was strange woices a savin’ * Where is the galP’ ,~ So down I goes, and if there wasn’t Bow-street officers es t hey : did used to be called afore the new police came in, as well I remembers a seeiu’ the rust a standin’ in Sloane-street, with my own eyes, one Michaelmas day, the year as they was fust brought in. • You could tell them Bow-street officers anywheres through their red waistcoats and crowns on their .buttons. As soon as I came down stairs they says’ * Where is he ? ’

I says, ‘Where’s who?’ They says, ‘Come, your nonsense, as won’t do with us.’ I says, ‘ I’m sure I don’t'want none of yourn.’ They says, ‘ls you aware as we’re law officers'?. ’

I says, ‘I dare say you may be, hut what’s that got to do with me ? ’ • - . ‘Why,’ they says, ‘we’ve got a warrant agin Alfred Crowley for forgery, and wherever is he got to PA... I says, ‘How should I know ? ’ I suppose as they see they wasn’ going to get much out of me, so they says, as they must be off, and did accordin.’ I was all over of a tremble, and I asks the broker’s men as was just come in, what they’do with * him if he was catclied, and when they told me as it wds 'a~hanging matter, I reeld and fell like a ox. ;.

When,l come round I felt quite foolish ia. my head,, and sat on tbe ,stairs in my honnet and •hawl, till my aunt she csoine .to fetch me in the cart, about‘nine, as she did ; used to take home the washing in, through my box being heavy, as them brokers -let me take away . through..a.seeing as. I hadn’t nothing in it but my own clothes. I’m sure when I told myjjdear mother about it being forgery, she says, ‘ He’s a dead man, my dear; ” for well she remember Dr. Dodd, as nobody couldn’t save,‘ thongh. they went down on their knees to. King George upon the throne, and him a--clergyman as did ought to have knowed better, but was sorry for it at the last, no doubt, and wrote a lovely book in prison, and may repentance never. come too late is what I says. I could not rest at home. I says, ‘ Mother, let me go.. up to. Bow-street and ask about him, for I’m sure ai he’s caught fast enough by this time, for they couldn’t never get far with, no money and as tired as dogs.’ If ever there was a kind-hearted ooman, it was my dear mother, for she says, ‘ Martha, you hadn’t best go* a-mixing yourself up with no forgeries, but I’m proud on you as my child for to have a right-feeling, for that poor lady,, though wages you have not seen, nor yet your meals regular as any one may look to; but,’ she says, ‘ I’ll go up to Bow--street with-you.myself,’ as isn’t very far from where she was living, near Soho-square, through being a clear starcher.. . - I never shall forget the all-overish tremble as I felt when we got .to Bow-street, and my mother asked the officer at, the door about Alfred Crowley. . * Ob, he was nabbed feat enough,* says the man, * a wandering along the Old Kent Hoad.’ * "Wherever is the lady ? ’ I asks. ‘ Lady,’ says the fellow, ‘ there was a draggle*jj creetnr,, without, a.bit. .of shoe to her foot, long with him, as shrieked frightful when they ook him away.? t , * Where is die ?’ I asks. - ' * How-do I know P ’ says he; •"Won’t'they let her be -along with liimP * I asks. , -

* Bless .yoa,aio,’' said he. . ‘ She’ll be allowed to 1 see him .now: and then,.afore his trial,’ and. off lie I was a getting quit o eiek and giddy, so my dear mother took.me f>nt,ofXheplace, a saying as we TOiildn’tJ’jito no ' 'X iebuld'iot bear to go home, it seeaaiedlihe a'turniiig agin that poor soul in heMaKHi^ieß : j--bat it-sras-ktt-in-the-dayrand toy too&eftahg wmted to,get being busy. oocas'vsaiaaajshould lihe to go.to ,ColdWn Fielda, and sale “atT 1 the 'pnson. anS 'thongh ib» didn't vatic off Him,

"Wei * couldn’t hear nothing, about the poor.lady ah,thevprison, thpughjthe man said ati the gate .as she had been there a hour ago a'asking .when, she couldsee’theprisoner.* ! - '= "We tamed: away, .withanasLy rain, andmujup, to. yonr ancles,.and , getting, dusk. Just, ps .we were a turning ipto Holborn, I says, ‘.There >lie is; 1 ’ ahd-sure enough"*she was,-with her cloak soaked tlirough, and-her beautiful hair a hanging down , under her bonnet, and all bedaubed with mud. T rushes at her, a'saying,’‘ Oh, my dear missus, wherever are youa goingP ’ She give a start, and -says, ‘ Martha, don’t stop me; Fmin a hurry, my good gal,* And I could see by her eye as she wasn’t herself quite ; and then my mother, come up, as spoke, very soothing, a saying as she didn’t ought to tire herself out. While we was a speaking she turned that deadly pale, as made me think she was a dying; aud its Lucky as my mother was there, for, I, never could have held iier up, or called a hackney coach, for there wasn’t no ’buses nor yet cabs in them days, and we got her in, and took her to! my mother’s cwn bed, as had. only two rooms just off Wardourstreet;; as she kep’ lier house very nice, through a getting up of lace and line things, as had been her support ever since father was took, with seven shillings a week pension, and me a going to servicethr ough a bit of temper, which I don’t regret, or never should have been able to have helped that poor deer creetur. ' She was awful bad, and the doctor as was called in said as it was murder for to have let her go about as she-had. We didn’t say nothing, mother nor me, about her circumstances, and did not know what to do about him. I says, * 1 never can bring myself for to go and see him in prison, as would break his heart.’ Then says mother, ‘ I’ll go, for live through the night she won’t, unless a turn comes.’ But somehow mother, couldn’t get in-to see him, and neither on us being scholars, in course, couldn’t write.

Poor dear’ lady, I never thought as she’d know us agin, a laying sometimes a raving and singing and then a moaning, but she got over it somehow, ns puzzled the doctor, but I’m sure she’d better have died, leastways we didn’t ought to talk like that as dont know notliing. It was more than a week afore she seemed clear in her head, hut it came sudden like, for I was a sitting by her, when she says, ‘ Martha! ’ I says,.‘ What is it, mum ? ’ She says, ‘l’ve been very ill, hut I’m better; ’ and she spoke with her woice that low, a whispering like. She says, ‘ Are we alone ? *

I says, * Yes.’ She says, ‘ Where is he P ’ I says, * Where you knows.’ She nodded, her head, and didn’t say no more. Prom that time she seemed to get better rapid, and was a sitting up in three days, a writing a letter to him, as I took myself, and waited for a answer. Oh! how her eyes glistened when I come back with his answer as made her turn deadly pale; and then she wrote a long letter as I posted myself for her, off to Scotland somewheres.'

Didn’t she wait anxious for a answer to that letter, and wrote to him in prison every day ; and

it was as much as mother and me could do to keep her from going to him; but at last she begged that hard as I went wilh her myself in a coach and never shall forget her when she come tottering out, not as she give way, oh, dear, no; she’d a lion’s heart in that little body of hern. You should have seen her the day as she got her answer from, Scotland, as was money, though it come with bitter words, I should say, tor I see her eyes a flashing as she read it; and out she went with me in a coach, and had to go to a. bank as she got money from, and then she goes to see the lawyer as was to help her good gentleman tlirough his troubles.

The moment as I.see that lawyer,l gave up all hopes, for of all the solemn looks as any one ever did put on, that lawyer did. As soon as he was in his private room, for she made me come in, and, a nice dingy hole it was, full of boxes round the walls, and names wrote on ’em, she says, ‘ Oh, Mr ’Unter, save him; here’s money! ’ He says, *My good lady, he calm. We’ll do. the best we can.’ But I sec him a looking haro at them bank-notes, as he seemed, a itching for te get hold on, He was a elderly man, and .word what they did use to call essliun boots, with a powdered head, and a long chain and bunch of seals a hanging down. She says, ‘ Pay anything, but save his life! ’ And then she undid her - bonnet as if choking. I must say as the lawyer acted kind, and told me to take .care on her; and so we went to the prison, for she’d got leave for to see her husband, and l was going there then. I don’t think as she’d know’d what she. was about arf her time, but she give my mother over thirty pounds to take care on, and'■ said the lawyer’d got the rest. Every day did she go to that prison till the day as he wa_B to be tried on ; and nice weather it was, the middle of November, with a fog that thick that you might cut it with a knife, as the saying is. (to be continued.)