THE ENGLISH EMIGRANTS; OR, Troubles on both Sides of the Atlantic. BY PAUL BETNEYS. Respectfully addressed to all Classes of MORALISTS, RELIGIONISTS, AND PHILANTHROPISTS LONDON : HORSELL & CAUDWELL, 335, STRAND, W.C. 1859. 249. 2.305. THE ENGLISH EMIGRANTS; OR, Troubles on Both Sides of the Atlantic. CHAPTER I. TINY BAXTER. "He, toss'd by Fate, Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age; THE opening scene of our Tale is laid in Clerkenwell, London, in the winter of the year 18—. A bitter morning in the month of January had succeeded a night of snow-storms and sleet, and a thick, damp fog hung over the metropolis like a funeral pall. Among the few pedestrians whom duty or necessity had obliged to walk abroad, was a poor, meagre-looking and thinly-clad woman about thirty years old, whose careworn and pallid countenance told the story of deep-seated disease, and years of bodily suffering, whilst the oft-repeated sigh spoke of heartwithering sorrow. With a feeble step she wended her way across Mount Pleasant and up Dorrington-street, and as she looked upon the sturdy prison-pile, which covers several acres of ground on the north side of the street, her pain-distorted visage assumed an almost unearthly hue, in a vain attempt to suppress her long pent-up anguish of mind. Having reached an old tree but a few yards west of the old "Cobham's Head," -a spot endeared to her by very many sweet associations of days long since passed away,-she sat down on an old and (to her) familiar stone step, and strove to trace, through the B gloom of the morning, the outline of the buildings opposite to her resting-place, and faithful memory, with vivid and painful accuracy, pourtrayed before her mental vision the long row of elder trees, the antique buildings near old Bagnigge Wells, the tea-gardens and hedgerows which lined the old road to Highgate, with the daisy-meadows and green-capped hills of Spa Fields; and the time, too, when as far as the eye could reach northward, she had in merry girlhood plucked the wild and pretty flowers from among the tall grass in the fields now and long since covered with compact blocks of houses, and contrasting those sunny and sportive days with her present forlorn condition, the fountains of grief broke forth, and the scalding tears chased each other down her cheeks, and buried themselves in the peerless snow at her feet; and she murmured, as she rocked her emaciated body to and fro, "Ah! happy days were those! poor, dear John, the Lord has repaid you heavily for destroying my health and peace; and poor Tiny-poor, unfortunate boy! what will become of you? It would be better for us were we all dead." Being physically incapable of enduring long exposure to the biting wind and cutting sleet, (which now, with merciless fury, swept up the street,) she arose, and with a staggering gait sought the friendly shelter of a doorway, and succeeded in finding one opposite to the prison-gate. An hour had passed away, and the wind had lulled into a calm, and the sleet had given way to a dull shower of rain; but that, too, had ceased, and a few bright sunbeams having struggled through the hazy atmosphere began to lend a charm to the hitherto cheerless morning. It was now nine o'clock, and several knots of persons had gathered near the prisonentrance, whilst, on the opposite side of the road, solitary individuals paced up and down the pavement, but occasionally halting and anxiously glancing across the road, when the little wicket of the prison-gate was opened, and some one or two fallen and unfortunate human beings passed out, once more to enjoy the pure atmosphere of liberty, to gaze on the forms and faces of beloved friends, or to receive the warm embrace of a parent or of some other dear relation. Near another hour had sped away and the knots and stragglers, including those who had been lured to the spot by curiosity, had dispersed, and two persons only remained. |