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*He does not seem to have done himself much,' "I don't know that he has one. Neither Miriam said Lawrence. He does not let out much about nor Florence has said anything about it; and as himself ; but he has been roaming about since he to her welcoming me, that must depend in a great was eighteen; he did tell me that much ; and seems measure on my venerable brother-in-law. I have no nearer settling down than at first. I daresay he rather a curiosity to see the old fellow. I daresay has led a queer life, if one could only know about he is not a bad sort, if he were not Miriam's it.
husband.' "Which one can't. And yet, what a way of * There you go again! One would think you worming things out of other people he has ? I were her mother, Walter, you are so hard to please. didn't like him a bit, and yet he knows as much You have just said, very sensibly, that, as the deed about me as I should tell to the person I liked best was done, there was no use in grumbling, and there
- he knows all about me, in fact except the fact you are, grumbling again.' that I'm married-and I daresay he has a pretty 'I beg your pardon, old fellow,' said Walter, with general notion of your past and present also.' his usual gay good-humour, ‘for bothering you
*Yes; I have nothing to hide-certainly not a with my guesses and forebodings about the fate of sweet, pretty, little wife, as you have and, as he a woman whom you never saw, and perhaps never seemed interested about our friendship and partner- will see, though I hope you will. I have been ship, I told him our story-the " short and simple boring you horribly all this time.' annals of the poor”-and how that old ruffian in 'Indeed, you have not, Walter. Everything that India had treated me. He said rather a good thing, interests you interests me also, and † have the by-the-bye, characteristic of him, I fancy: “Why utmost curiosity to see Mrs St Quentin; moreover, the devil didn't you go out to India, and make it I am not at all inclined to doubt that it is much deuced unpleasant for the old screw? You'd have better for my peace of mind that I shall see her brought him to reason that way, and done it much first, if I see her at all, as Mrs St Quentin. How cheaper than coming out here.” It wasn't worth very white and tired you are looking !' while to explain to him that I did not look at it I am tired. I think I will turn in for a good in that light. He would have made himself un- night's rest, and so get rid of my headache.' pleasant in some way to old Clibborn, no doubt.' Nothing was said between the two of the care, as
'I am sure he would,' assented' Walter. 'I tender, and the watching as vigilant, as any which Fonder Deering hasn't got on better; he's the sort a woman might have bestowed, which Walter had of man that ought to get on, if there's any good in lavished on Daly; but between these two men words pushing and self-assertion.'
were not needed. Their hearts were knit together 'I fancy the vagabond strain in him neutralises in one of those friendships which have the gravity, those undeniably useful qualities.'
dignity, and simplicity of the higher class of male Then they talked of the probable value of their character, united witń the partial affection which nugget; of when the next opportunity of conveying women feel for one another. It had grown out of a gold to the station under safe escort would be casual association into one of the most enduring likely to occur ; and of when they might hope to ties which human feeling can create, and it was receive letters from England. It was now a long wholly uninjured by the great superiority of time since any communication from home had Lawrence to Walter. reached them, and Walter was getting very impa- Just before they parted for the night, Daly tient. He did not even know where Florence was. said : 'I don't exactly understand where it is you When he had last heard from her, she was at Naples, have hidden our nugget, Walter. You must shew where Mr and Mrs St Quentin meant to remain me the spot to-morrow.' for the winter and the early spring, and from 'I made an exact memorandum of it in my thence she expected they would return to England. pocket-book, like the man in Edgar Poe's story; Her letter was written only a short time before only it's not in cipher. And I don't mean that that of Mrs Ritchie had come to create an entire any one else shall read it. Nothing like being change in her life, actual and prospective. They business-like, you know. But as to shewing it referred to its contents, and to Florence's mention to you to-morrow, it is out of the question. It's ing that Miriam was sitting for her portrait to a a good way up the ravine, and a steepish climb famous painter at Naples.
to get within sight of it. Don't flatter yourself 'She is very handsome, is she not?' asked Daly. you could do the distance, or anything like it even 'Yes; I think so. Her features are not very on the level, as yet. Deering cautioned me about regular, and she has not much colour, people say; your tendency to imagine yourself too well, and but I think her face lovely—the expression is so tire yourself.' bright and fearless; and her eyes are splendid ! The solemn beauty of the night was at its deepest Large golden eyes. Can you imagine an eagle's and grandest, and the isolated hut itself was hardly eyes, with all the brightness left in them, and a more tranquil than the clustered dwellings lower great deal of exquisite softness added, on occasion ?' down in the valley. A great hush had fallen on
'It is not an easy effort of imagination, but I all the striving and labour of the place; and the think I can. That is just the kind of beauty I have murmur of the streamlets, inaudible by day, save at imagined sometimes, but I never really saw it. the falls, might be heard, under the awful height But, Walter, a woman like your sister must have of the sky. The great rifts in the rocks, the married a rich man; she never could have been ditches, the dams, all the appliances of the search happy in an obscure position.'
in which the population of the great valley worked No,' said Walter carelessly; 'I suppose not. their bodies and strained their minds to the utmost, At all events, she has done it, and there's no good looked like deserted ruins, gaunt and ugly, and in grumbling.
desolate in the midst of nature's vastness and How delighted she will be to welcome you to majesty. her home! Where is St Quentin's place ?'
If the solitary hut had had less rude and prosaic
I hate le
surroundings, it might have been accounted pictur- calling to him, and stealthy steps creeping up to
SPRING SON G.
Blow through the woods, and wake again done it; he could not exactly, or indeed at all,
New leafage on the naked trees, remember why, but he had done it, and of course That creak and chatter to the breeze he could think of it, could recall every little inci. Which hurries from the northern main. dent of his task. No'; he could not. When he tried to retrace in his fancy the path by which he
Blow cross the wolds, and down the stratbs had ascended the ravine, he found himself a young
Where old melodious rivers flow,
And shadows play, and lilies grow, boy again, running along by the hedge which
And mosses creep about the paths. bordered the road leading from the Firs to Mr Martin's house at Drington. Here was Mr Martin,
Blow round about the garden bower, feeling his pulse, desiring him to put out his
Where clinging rose and jasmine stray,
And where the liquid forces play tongue, promising him jam with his physic. Very
That roll the bud and spread the flower. odd. A little while ago, he was a long way off, with a man whose name he ought to know, but could Blow o'er the hills and lakes and plains, not remember, in a distant country, where were And stir them with thy quickening life, great mountains, and a pitiless desert, broad rivers, Till Nature feels the generous strife and herds of strange beasts, rough men, and a train
Of being working in her veins of wagons. He had been riding among them only
Blow through the haunts of sin and death, a minute ago, before he was working at the sluice Where festering vices thickly breed; out there. Out where? How could there be a Blow unto men a better creed, sluice, and miners' tools, a locker, and a man with And sift them with thy winnowing breath. red hair and a red beard, in the little garden before the cottage in George Lane, where Mrs Reeve was The Publishers of CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL beg to direct lying dead ? He must get up, and see about this ; the attention of CONTRIBUTORS to the following notice : he could not permit it. The captain of the ship ist. All communications should be addressed to the would not allow of such encumbrance; how came Editor, 47 Paternoster Row, London.' those things on the deck ? He must turn out-it 2d. To insure the return of papers that may prove
ineligible, postage-stamps should in every case accomwas his watch!
How was this! He was on land, not in a ship, 3d. All MSS. should bear the author's full CHRISTIAN but striving to burst open a locked and barred door,
name, surname, and address, legibly written. but whether he was wildly anxious to get in or out of 4th. MSS. should be written on one side of the leaf only. the place which the door defended, he was not sure, Unless Contributors comply with the above rules, the he only knew that there was urgent need of him at Editor cannot undertake to return rejected papers. the other side of those locks and bars ; he struggled with all his strength, and, it seemed to him, with Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paterthe strength of many others beside himself, to noster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. wrench them open, for there were whispering voices Also sold by all Booksellers.
LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART
, fourth Series
CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT
Price 1d. first came up.
Shillibeer was the first bus-proBUSES AND BUSMEN.
prietor. He had been over in Paris, it seems, I OUGHT to know something about buses and looking how they worked there, and he came back busmen, for I have been on the journey ever since and took out a patent for them, or registered them, I was the height of your walking-stick. When I or something of that kind, in this country. The was a little chap, I used to sleep among the parcels first buses ran between Paddington and the Bank, in the boot of a Paddington and City stage-coach. one bus going by the New Road, past the Angel, That was long before the buses came up. There and down the City Road; the next along Oxford used to be stage-coaches on all the main lines that Street and Holborn ; and so on alternately. They are now worked by the buses. They were just had three horses abreast, like the ‘Red' Favorites like the old country stage-coach — they were you see now; but they were not red ; in fact, they mostly, in fact, old country stage-coaches-only, looked more like hearses than buses. They had they had but a pair of horses instead of four. There no lettering on their sides or ends, and there was is an old pattern stage-coach on the stones to this only one glass panel on either side, all the others day; it comes in from Brixton Hill, and you may being blank. The driver sat in the centre, just as see it crossing London Bridge any morning. The he does now. The first conductors wore a sort of coaches used to carry six inside and twelve outside, uniform of a round jacket, and cloth caps hanging and the fare was sixpence between Paddington and over one side, like the caps some of them Belgian the City. They had no conductors : the coachman volunteers wear that come over every year to the managed everything along with his parcel-boy. Wimbledon shooting-matches. There was no perch, The parcel-traffic, which used to be worth some- as there is now, for the conductor ; where the thing, was a perquisite of the coachman, and he perch now is was a little seat, with a high iron rail had a boy to manage it that he paid himself : at the back side, and there the conductor used to eighteen-pence a week was about the figure. The sit. But it was found that fellows often went to boy rode in the boot along with the parcels ; and sleep, and another thing was, that a good look-out sometimes he was paid by a share of the parcel all round for passengers could not be had ; 80 the profits
. The coaches were owned by private seat was done away with, and the perch substipeople-publicans, stable-keepers, and the like; the tuted. In the early days there was no knife-board ; largest owner was a Mrs Wilson, whose family no passengers were carried outside at all, except four owned the “Favorite' buses, till they were taken on the box-seat beside the driver. Even the conover by the Company. Their pace wasn't very ductor was liable in a penalty if seen on the roof. lively; you see the roads were not so good as now, At first, the enforcement of the regulations as to and the competition wasn't very keen. About traffic did not rest with the street police ; but that four and a half miles an hour was about the pace, sort of business was done by informers, who made and the coaches used to stop an hour at each end a regular trade of it, laying their information before of the journeys. The great head-quarters for the the magistrates, and getting half the penalty if they Paddington stage-coaches were at the Yorkshire secured a conviction. The penalties used to run Stingo; and most of the West-end coaches in these pretty stiff, sometimes as high as five pounds; and days used to stop in St Paul's Churchyard, instead the commonest offences were over-crowding, sitting of going down Cheapside to the Bank. They were on the roof, and hard driving. I know one of the well patronised, the old coaches, and several fine old breed of informers alive, now living retired on fortunes have been made out of them.
his money : he used to keep a regular staff of men I remember well the first buses that came out for the business, and throve on it well. That is in London. It was in August 1829—the same year all changed now, and for the better, although the that the Peelers, as the new police were called, police every now and then do take fits of summoning
chaps right and left. The duty was pretty smart on the ride from the Strand to the South-western buses in the times I am speaking of
. It began at Railway only costs you a halfpenny. Suppose threepence-halfpenny per mile, and gradually fell to there was a penny line from Broad Street to the a penny, till two or three years ago the mileage Post-office, don't you think it would pay; or rate was done away with altogether, and every bus another from Whitechapel, where the tram ends, licensed now pays two pounds as duty. I believe to the Bank; or another from the Finsbury pavethe revenue folks took Shillibeer into Somerset ment end of the tram over to the London Bridge House, and found a billet there for him, because Station ; or another from the Surrey side of Westof the extent to which he had increased the revenue. minster Bridge to Charing Cross, or the bottom The early buses were slower than the present, and of the Haymarket? I wish I had the capital to didn't travel so many journeys; the Paddington try the spec., that's all ; I wouldn't be trimming ones, for instance, made only three journeys in lamps in a cellar this blessed afternoon, that I tell the day instead of five : very soon--as quick as you. I could tell you a heap of stories about the buses could be made, in fact-the coaches vanished competition between the Company' and the prioff one line after another, till by the year '33 there vate owners before the Company got nearly the was hardly an old coach to be seen. And then full possession of the town; but if I once began, I new lines were started, and opposition gone in would not know how to stop. I
tell for on the established lines ; for trade was very though, that no private bus was ever run fairly keen in the old days, when there were no railways off the road by the Company. When the private or tramways. I think there never were so many owner meant to keep his ground, he did keep it, and buses running in London as at the time of the does to this day; when you have seen him disfirst Exhibition in 1851; though perhaps there appear, after what has looked like a spell of hot were close on as many during the second. The competition and hard struggling, it was all ‘kid' railways began to tell on them, however; no sooner on his part to force better terms of purchase, for was a new line opened than the bus-traffic suf- he
meant to sell from the very beginning. fered heavily. Perhaps there is hardly a bus-line When the buses first came up, the conductors in all London that has not had some of its vehi- used to have twenty-one shillings a week as wages, cles knocked off within the last few years. The and eighteenpence a day for food besides—a shilling Metropolitan Railway pretty well did for the old for dinner, and sixpence for tea. The drivers had * Express' buses, that used to run down Oxford just the same. When the competition got keen, Street to the Bank in the morning with cargoes the pay of the driver was altered to fourteen of City men. Twenty minutes from Oxford Circus shillings a week, and the fare of one throughto the Bank was the time allowed, and it was passenger—a “boxer,' as he was called-each way, wonderful how it was kept. Later in the day, such which was better than the higher regular wage. a speed as that would have been impossible. The conductor got no increase ; it was taken for Express buses from the West End to the City have granted that he looked to himself
. You see, if the lately come up again, but on another and a clear Company can make a living off it now, with the line. Three Express Westminsters' run by the rails and the trams competing with it, times must Embankment and Queen Victoria Street every have been ever so much better for the bus interests morning, and as they have pretty well the whole before these competitors came up; and seeing that track to themselves, they make good time of it. times were 'good, and the money coming in, the There is a four-horse Express bus on the south old masters winked a bit at the taxation' which side ; it runs from Tulse Hill every morning to the they knew went on, if it wasn't too barefaced.
; Bank, and goes along, once it is clear of the stones, Now, a day's work will hardly stand 'taxing,' and in the style of the old spanking days. I could tell the game has been carried so far that the Company you about the penny'Shakspeares' and other cheap keep their inspectors and spies continually on the Þuses, some of which went down for want of traffic, move, and there are lots of checks and precautions of others for want of capital to keep them going till all kinds. It has been greatly put down, but a good the traffic that there was had time to take to them. bit is still done on the extreme quiet-take my I think myself it would both pay and draw custom word for it. The fact is, the temptation is strong, if every road were blocked into penny rides. Look uncommon strong. I don't mean to say a man is what a short-distance traffic the trams have picked bound to give way to it. A driver's wages now up already! It's not the all-the-way’ passenger's stand at forty-two shillings a week; a conductor has sixpence that pays for the journey, but the quick twenty-eight shillings, and neither have any persuccession of short-distance smaller sums. For quisites
. The driver is not so badly paid, although suburban traffic, the times look altogether bad for there are some deductions from his money before the buses. At the start, they have mostly a railway he takes it home; but the conductor on twentyto compete against, and on the journey the bells eight shillings is greatly underpaid, when you look of the tram-horses are tinkling front and rear of at his hours and his work. He averages sixteen them. It will come to this in time, I expect, that hours a day; he is out in all weathers; he never we shall have trams along every main road, as near gets a chance to sit down, but hops from one perch the dense centres as the trams will be allowed to to another, like a canary in a cage ; his attention come it would be a great mistake to permit them must never flag ; he is always bound to be civil, into the crowded main streets—and we shall and his temper is often sorely tried; he has to have buses starting where they stop, and making keep his accounts as the bus is moving; and he short connecting journeys inside what I may call never gets a chance of a regular meal. It is a the inner circle. Look what a good thing the lucky day for him and the driver if they get ten Waterloo halfpenny bus-service has turned out ! minutes between journeys to swallow a morsel of I call it a halfpenny service, although you pay a dinner; more often they have only five, and no penny, because, if you crossed the bridge on foot, longer time for their tea. The old stage-coachmen the tollman would take a halfpenny from you; 80 mostly took to the buses, but I don't know that
there is one of them now alive ; I'm sure there When a fellow gets the bullet from bus-work, he ain't one driving. Bus-drivers seem to thrive on mostly has a spell at cab-driving, for which no the box for the most part, for they generally live character is needed; the cab-master takes too good to be pretty old men, and might live all the longer care of himself to need to trouble about that. if it wasn't for drink. You know lots of the old On every road the drivers and conductors have a mahogany-faced chaps, I don't doubt. Well, they '11 club, which has two separate purposes. There is a tell you, if you ask them, and if they don't take sick fund, into which each man pays sixpence per the huff at the question, that their raw beef-steak week; and an accident fund, into which he pays complexion comes from exposure to the weather. another sixpence. The latter is to meet the exYou needn't believe them unless you like. There's penses of all fines, summonses, accidents, &c., tolots of men as much exposed as they are to wind ward which the club contributes two-thirds, and and weather that don't run to copper colour. The the individual one-third. Conductors are responsible fact is, weather has something to do with it, want for the glass in their vehicles, and when any is of exercise has something too, but drink out of broken, the club helps them to meet the cost in the sight the most. Gin and ale is the tipple for giving proportion I have stated. I don't think, on the the real colour, believe me. I know a bus-driver whole, that I should like to bring a son up speciwho only drinks a pint and a half of malt a day. ally to the bus business; and if any boy were to He has driven these ten years, and he ain't a ask my confidential advice about taking to it, I bit fiery-faced. 'Rum hot'-about as favourite a should certainly say, Don't, so long as you can do drink as any with drivers-don't help to keep the anything else. blushes down. Some of them swipe uncommon hard. I knew an Islington driver who drank a quart of gin for ten years at least-half a quartern A GOLDEN SORROW. at each end every journey; and he went out like the snuff of a candle at last, dying, you
CHAPTER XIX.-MARKED 'IMMEDIATE.' may say, on the box. Bus-drivers are what you To drag the living man away from the dead, and may call a very miscellaneous lot, and so are into the hat, as speedily, and with as little injury conductors. They have been all sorts of thingsbarmen, tailors, bakers, butchers, pot-boys, gentle to his insensible body as possible, for he was too men's servants, and so forth now and then, weak to lift, and could literally only drag Walter there is a man who is a real coachman ; but most by his arms—to lay him down within the entrance, ---a anybody can see who knows what driving and replace the fastenings, was Daly's first action, is, and who has sat on the box of a bus-are and then he blew a shrill blast upon a metal whistle, rank duffers, with no notion of hands, no idea of the concerted, well-known signal of danger and dishelping horses by holding them together, and no
tress. He then fetched his revolver, all the chanconception of how to send them along without cut, bers charged, laid it on the ground beside him, and ting into them for ever with the whip.- Bad horses ? Well , the horses are no great things as regards
once more resumed his efforts to bring Walter mouth or freedom ; but, mostly, it is the drivers to consciousness. The interior of the lonely hut who spoil their mouths, and then swear at them presented a strange spectacle, as Daly, ghastly with for having none. Just watch half the drivers, and horror, and weak with recent illness, strove, all notice how they rumble along, with reins hang- alone with his seemingly dead friend, to loosen the ing so slack that a horse has no sense of being in clenched teeth, and unclose the stiffened hands, hand, and none of the confidence he gets from ignorant of whether they were surrounded by desknowing that he is so ; and then, when the bell rings, or somebody beckons on the pavement, how, which had been committed.
perate enemies, and without any clue to the crime
What had brought with a full gripe of each band on a rein, he takes a clumsy hawl at his horses, as if he were dragging Spoiled Five there ? Had he come thither with on the main brace of a ship. Among busmen it is any evil intention, or to watch and protect them ? said that the worst drivers are chaps that have been These and innumerable other questions had pregentlemen's coachmen. They give their minds sented themselves to Lawrence Daly, to remain altogether to their horses, and hardly ever think of unanswered, before he had the relief of seeing touting, which calls on a man to leave nursing his Walter's eyes unclose. At length they did so. It horses with his eyes and look about him ; and
was only for an instant. He shut them again, with they are generally slow at pulling-up suddenly. A smart butcher, used to an outdoor trade, was the in him. Once more Daly sounded his whistle, long
a groan and a convulsive shudder, but the life was best bus-driver I ever saw; he never used a whip, never bawled at his horses or kept tck-tok-ing at and loud, and this time Walter started and writhed them : but they knew his hands on them, and at the noise ; struggled into a sitting posture on went as free as if they had been colts.
the floor, and stared at Lawrence, without the Neither drivers nor conductors, as a rule, leave least recognition in his burning, glassy eyes. He bus-work when once they come to it, unless they groaned heavily again and again, but made no can't help it. For, indeed, how should they better resistance while Lawrence half-led, half-dragged themselves? Where's your character ? Nobody him to his hammock. By this time there was will look at you if you have been on a bus; the calling has got a downright bad name, and no two
a stir in the valley, and men carrying torches ways about it. I don't say whose fault it is;
were coming along the road towards the hut. perhaps it is part misfortune and part fault, but There was security in the sound. No attack havthere's the fact; and if you can hear of a man going ing been made before the alarm was given and up the ladder after being on a bus, all I have to acted upon, there was none to be apprehended now. say is, you 'll hear of a very uncommon occurrence. The murderers had evidently decamped. Daly put