stone to shy through the jam-shop window, that an odour assailed my nostrils of so enticing a sort, that my anger was instantly appeased. It proceeded from a neighbouring cook-shop. The peas-pudding as well as the baked faggots were "just up," and their fragrance blended, producing a result potent enough to drive a cold and hungry boy mad. Fancy what would have been my sensations if I had invested my twopence in that miserable mite of jam and afterwards approached the cook-shop! Without a moment's deliberation I marched in and bought my supper-a faggot (it cost me a pang to be compelled to forego the liberal spoonful of gravy that accompanied each one, in consequence of having no vessel to hold it,) on a big cabbage leaf, a ha'porth of peas-pudding, and a ha'porth of baked potatoes. I longed to be at it at once, but I had heard of unprincipled scoundrels who waylaid children going errands and robbed them of their goods: so I bundled up my supper in the cabbage-leaf, and, hiding it in the breast of my jacket, made haste back to the pig-market, and, sitting in a secluded corner, devoured it with great relish. I don't mean to say that I couldn't have eaten more-indeed, I am sure that I could have eaten three times as much-still I felt very much better for my supper. I felt better every way; the goodness of the supper had softened my heart as well as assuaged my hunger. How was little Polly? I thought of her more than of father, home, anything; nor was it any great wonder that I should. Without doubt she was a dead weight on my liberty during the daytime, and a serious draw-back of nights, but she was a dear little soul. She couldn't speak to me, but she couldn't bear to see me cry; and often and often after Mrs. Burke had beaten me, and I felt so bad I didn't know what to be at, poor Polly would put her little arms round my neck, and her lips against my cheek to kiss me. She was all the comfort I had, and I believe I was all the comfort she had, poor child. These and a hundred other such melancholy reflections passed through my mind as sat in the pig-shambles, until I could bear them no . longer, and determined at all hazards to venture home and make inquiries, or at least to approach our alley, and lurk about till I saw somebody who lived there, and of whom I could make inries. "I don't know quite where I am going, Jerry," I replied, shaking hands with the good-natured fellow. "I was thinking of going home just to see" "Then you hain't been home?" asked Jerry, eagerly. "No." "You hain't been home since the mornin'not since you hooked it away?" Jerry's voice was tremulous with excitement as he asked the question. "No," I replied, "I've been away all day. How are they all, Jerry? Have you seen young Polly out this arternoon?" Master Pape made no reply to my question. "If you hain't been home, you'd better come now," said he, griping the collar of my jacket with something more than friendly ardour, and giving me a jerk in the direction in which he wished me to go. "Come on, you've got to go home, you know." Jerry's behaviour at once aroused my worst suspicions. "I hain't going home without I like," said I, and down I sat on the pavement. The treacherous villain appeared to be suddenly made aware of the faultiness of his tactics. "You hain't a-going home?" said he with affected astonishment, and at the same time taking his hand from my collar.." Well, you are a rummy chap. You just said you was." "I can go without your pulling, Jerry Pape. What do you want to pull me for? "Me pull you? What should I pull yer for, Jimmy? How is it worth my while to pull yer? Next time I does you a good turn you'll know it, young feller." "How 's it a good turn, Jerry?" "How! Why, there they are all a-cryin' arter you up the alley." "Who's cryin'?" "Who? Why, yer father and yer mother and young Poll, and all the whole bilin'. I couldn't stand it no longer. Ses I to myself, 'Here they are a-breakin' their 'arts arter him, and won't get their suppers without he comes home, though it's a stunnin' meat puddin' with hot taters, and all the while p'r'aps he's hangin' about afeard to wenture home, and expectin' a whackin'. Jim knows me,' I ses to myself; 'I won't say nothink to nobody, but I'll slip out and let him know as it's all right.' And I does do it, and here you are, chucking of yourself on the stones, and as good as callin' me a liar." It was quite dark by this time, and the way from Smithfield to our alley was not a much frequented one; nevertheless I stepped along with extreme caution, darting into doorways if I saw There was a gas-lamp near, and as Jerry spoke approaching any one looking in the distance the it was easy to see that he meant every word he least like my father or Mrs. Burke. I met no- had spoken, and that my suspicions as to his body that I knew, however, and presently reach-fidelity had wounded his feelings very deeply. I ed Turnmill Street in safety. As luck would have it, while I was as yet twenty yards from Fryingpan Alley, whom should I run against but my old friend Jerry Pape? I have said whom I ran against, but it would be more correct to say that he ran against me. He ran right at me from across the road, and embraced me with both his arms, as though he was so jolly glad to see me he could scarcely contain himself. couldn't help believing him, and yet what he told me was altogether astounding. Everybody crying for me, and a meat pudding getting cold on my account! Remorse filled me to the brim, and, sympathizing with my weeping friends, my eyes filled with tears. "Are you quite sure, Jerry?" I asked, getting on my legs, and squeezing his friendly hand in gratitude. "You are quite sure you hain't made no mistake? 'cos it will go very hard against me, you know, Jerry, if you should. It ain't at all unbeknown to you, Jerry, how she punches me about and pulls my hair." "Mistake about what ?" asked the traitor, evasively. "About the cryin' and that." "No more jaw, I tell you," said the first boy, who was stronger than Jerry Pape. "Come on home," (this to me, with a lug that made my "That's right enough, I tell you. They're all shoulder-joints crack.) "I shouldn't like to go a-cryin' arter you like a house a-fire." "My father too, Jerry?" "Harder 'un the whole lot put together," replied Master Pape, emphatically. "Don't take my word on it; come up to the alley and arks anybody. You can hear him a owlin' as high up as Winkship's. He'll do hisself a hinjury, that'll be the end on it." "And little Polly, is she, too, all right Jerry ?" 'Right as ninepence; never seed her look better." "She didn't break any of her bones when I dropped her down the steps this morning? She didn't make her nose bleed, or get another bump on her head, Jerry ?" 'Oh, that's what you're afeard on ?" said Jerry, lightly. "Lor', bless yer, when they picked her up she was a larfin fit to kill herself. When they took her to the doctor's". "What! took her to the doctor's? Oh! what for, Jerry? I thought you said she wasn't hurt at all, but laughing?" "Did I say anythink about the doctor's? I've no recollections of it," replied Jerry Pape, turning his head away to hide his embarrassment. "You did; you did, Jerry. You said they took her to the doctor's." "Well, did I tell you what they took her for ?" asked Jerry, turning about again with the tarnish of perplexity quite cleared off from his brazen countenance. you halves, my tulip. I 'spect you'll be werry nigh killed when yer father does get hold on yer." Once more overcome by terror, I wriggled down between my captors and lay on the pavement, crying aloud that I'd sooner die than go another step. Having no shoes on, I couldn't kick very hard, but as well as I was able I let fly at both of them whenever they approached close enough. The two boys were in despair. Jerry Pape, the treacherous thief, making so sure of my bloodmoney, and finding himself in a fair way of being baulked of it, was white with rage. Animated by a sudden spurt of courage, (he was known to be a shameful coward,) he unexpectedly turned on his rival, and struck him a heavy blow in the face with his fist. "Take that," said Jerry, "if it hadn't been for you poking your nose in it, I should have got him home by this time." This was a rash move on Jerry's part. The boy did take it as desired, but, unluckily for Master Pape, he was one of those mahogany-headed boys on whom a blow is lost, unless it downright dents them. For an instant only the mahoganyheaded one comforted his assaulted nose with the cuff of his jacket, glaring at Jerry the while. Then he was at him like a terrier with a rat. With tempestuous force he bore him to the earth, and there he pummelled the villain in a way that did my heart good to see. I enjoyed it so much that I stayed dangerously long to witness it. "No. Do tell me, please, Jerry." "Didn't I tell you that when they picked her Swift as light the thought came into my head, up she was larfin werry hearty ?" 66 Yes, so you did, but". "Werry well, then; it was wus than that. Since you must know, she was a-larfin' so that they thought she'd go into conwulsions. That's what they took her to the doctor's for." Completely reassured and comforted by this plausible explanation, I turned towards Fryingpan Alley at a brisk trot, Jerry keeping well up "Now is my time to be off!" And with speed swift almost as the thought that suggested it, I sprang up, and away, leaving the baffled combatants struggling in the mud. CHAPTER XII. 66 BARKING," AND PICK UP SOME NEW ACQUAINT with me and chatting in the cheerfullest manner. IN WHICH I ENDEAVOUR TO QUALIFY MYSELF FOR It was not until we had arrived within a stone'scast of the alley that my eyes were opened to his cruel perfidy. As we were passing Rose Alley, a boy-an acquaintance of mine, and about as big as Jerry Pape-suddenly pounced out and seized me in much the same manner as Jerry had done in the first instance. "Got him, Jerry? Halves, don't you know?" exclaimed the boy, eagerly. "Halves, be jiggered," roared Jerry, seizing my other arm. "What's halves for? Ain't I been a huntin' arter him ever since since his father come home? Wasn't I the first to ketch him ?" "Halves, I tell yer," said the first boy, making surer his grip on my arm, and giving me a jerk. "Hain't I been a-keepin' my eye on yer ever since you first come acrost him? You'd never got him home if it hadn't a been for me. No more jaw, Jerry Pape. Bring him along." "Shan't. What did Jim Ballisat say? Didn't he say the first as ketches him and brings him home, I'll give a shillin' to? He didn't say nothink about the second that ketches him!" ANCES. I RAN back in the direction I had come, and speedily found myself in Smithfield again, and in that very part of it in which I had spent such a considerable part of the day. Nobody followed me, and the market was darker and even stiller than when I had left it half-an-hour since. My errand had been attended by no little peril, and the results it had yielded were by no means satisfactory. It had effectually settled one point, however: it would be little short of insanity— aiding and abetting my own manslaughter-to return home. How could I doubt, after listening to the conversation that had taken place between the perfidious Jerry Pape and his companion, that my father, to say nothing of Mrs. Burke, was furiously incensed against me? My father, indeed, was not able even to contain his wrath until I happened to come home; he was burning and brimming over with it, and so longed to vent it on me, that he had offered the large sum of a shilling for my apprehension. It was a large sum for him to offer. It was as much as he could earn, carrying loads fit for a horse to draw, in a quarter of a day. A shilling would buy him three pots of beer. Going home, then, being so completely out of the question, what was to be done? Where was I to sleep? was a question which at once presented itself, and not unnaturally, since never in my life had I as yet slept out of a more or less comfortable bed. Should I sleep where I was? Why not? I had had a good supper, and the nights were not so very cold. It wouldn't hurt me for once-just for once-if I cuddled down in a corner, and made myself comfortable. It was light pretty early in the morning, and then Ah! and then? I had been thinking about to-morrow in a vague and mystic sort of way all the evening; but now it brought me up as suddenly as though it had been a brick wall. "Tomorrow was not to be shirked. Wherever I slept it was only shutting my eyes and opening them again, and it would be the new day-the day on which I must go single-handed into the world to get my living out of it. Of course I was already on my own hands," as the vulgar saying is, and had been since the morning; but it had been a patchy sort of a day at best. I had got up that morning at home; I had breakfasted there; I had run away, and gone back, and run away again. I had obtained a meal independently of home-but how? It would never do to begin and go through a new day-my first clear day-in such a manner. I must make up my mind, before I went to sleep, as to the sort of work I thought would suit me, and as soon as I woke I must go at it. At what? Why, at "barking," to be sure. It was light pretty early in the morning, and I would be off to one of the markets-Covent Garden or Billingsgate, I didn't care which—and I would look out amongst the barrowmen for one that looked likely, and I would offer him my services. If he asked me how much a day I wanted, I would tell him That was a great deal better. I walked up and down one of the dark avenues, and for a quarter of an hour did a roaring trade in the wall-flower line, calling "Whoa!" to an imaginary donkey, and bawling out to my imaginary master for change for a sixpence and a shilling, just as though it was real. Having polished off the wall-flowers to my perfect satisfaction, I cast about for a seasonable fruit, and found strawberries. I went at them with a confidence based on my first success, but speedily was driven to the conclusion that to an unpractised barker strawberries were decidedly a tickler. There was such a lot to say, and the words wouldn't rhyme. "STRAW-ber-REE! FOUR PENCE a MARKET pottle, O BOYS!" It wasn't neat. There was a bungling hitch between the "ket" of the market, and the "pot' of the pottle. Perhaps altering the price might make a difference. "FIP-pence a MAR-KET pottle!" Sixpence a mar It was clear that the price had nothing to do with it. It was the word "market" that spoilt it; if that could be left out it would run smooth enough. But of course it couldn't be left out, at fourpence, or sixpence, or any other price. Ignorant as I was of business matters generally, I Whew! It was all very well to talk about go- knew that buyers of barrow-fruit would no sooner ing to the market to look for a master; but sup- buy pottles of strawberries which were not vendpose it should happen that, after having founded as market," than they would purchase damone and made terms with him, I couldn't do the sons, or any other sort of small plums, by any work! Suppose, after all, my voice had no tune other measure than ale-house, or, as the barrowin it for barking! To be sure I did not know men more properly styled it, "alias." whether it had or not; but what a silly fellow I had been to let the whole afternoon and evening slip by without testing it! I had had the whole market to myself, as I might say, for ever so many hours, and I had done nothing but lounge idly about, as though I had a hundred a year coming in. I had better see about it at once. It was not yet late-but little after nine o'clock, indeed-and I could not do better than retire to the centre of the pig-market and practise. By dint of much perseverance, however, and scores of repetitions, I contrived to bring my strawberry call to something like the proper thing. It was mainly effected by sinking the "ket" in market, and making it "mark't," and allowing it to slide easily into pottle. I was getting along very well, when, as I sat on a bar of one of the pens, I was made suddenly aware of the presence of two boys lurking in my rear. My first terrible thought was that it was Jerry Pape and his antagonist, and that, having fought For which market should I prepare myself? their battle out, they had made it up, and joined At ordinary times I should have found it diffi- in a partnership against me. I thought so the cult to choose; but the cold, slippery cobbled more, because the moment they saw that they stones on which I stood, and the keen night air, were observed, one of them sprang forward and had their influence, and I selected Covent Garden seized me violently by the hair. before Billingsgate without argument. This pre- "Whoa, boys! whoa, boys!" exclaimed he, liminary being settled, it next became a consid-mocking my strawberry-cry, and at each "whoa eration what flowers and vegetables, commonly giving my hair a cruel tug. "It's werry nigh sold about the street, were then in season. What time you did 'whoa boys.' What do you mean, flowers? Let me see; why, wall-flowers, of you wagabone, to be kicking up such a precious course, as the most plentiful and favourite. row in this here market, when you ought to be Ahem! in bed-hey, sir ?" And he imitated the voice and gestures of a very savage policeman, flourishing his fist as though he held a staff in it. My first feeling on turning round, despite the pain the hair-pulling had occasioned me, was one of thankfulness. The two boys were not Jerry Pape and his companion. They were of about the same size, or perhaps a little bigger, but perfectly strange boys to me. "Do you hear me, sir ?" continued the sham policeman, fiercely, feeling in his pockets for a pair of handcuffs. "Are you a-goin' to move on, or am I to put yer where I'll be able to find yer in the mornin'? You'd better go home quiet. I won't take no bails for you, don't you know, if I once gets you to the station." "Go home yourself," I retorted, wriggling out of his grasp and jumping down from my perch. "Why don't you go home and leave a feller alone ?" "We're a-goin' home," observed the other boy, who had been laughing at the sham policeman until he was compelled to hold on by the bars. "We've been to the gaff, up in Shoreditch, and this is our way home." And then, addressing his companion, said he "Come along, Mouldy! We shan't get to Westminister to-night." Now, I had been to Covent Garden with my father several times, and I knew that it was in or near Westminster; but I had always ridden on the barrow, starting direct from home. From my present position I was much perplexed as to which was the best way to the market; and hearing the boy mention Westminster as a place with which he was familiar, I thought it was a good opportunity to obtain a little information on the subject. "What part of Westminster do you live in?" I asked of the boy who had last spoken, and who had hair of the same colour as Mrs. Burke's, as was plainly to be seen through the holes in his cap. "What part? Why, the 'spectable part. Don't we, Ripston?" replied the youth who had been addressed as Mouldy. "I should ha' thought that he might have knowed that by our 'pearance, without arstin'," observed Ripston. Mouldy whistled, and looked in astonishment at Ripston. "What? ain't your lodgin's no nigher than the arches ?" asked the latter. "The 'Delphi, you said; you didn't say anything about arches," said I. "Well, the 'Delphi is th arches, and the arches is the 'Delphi-ain't they?" observed Ripston. "Are they? Well, I didn't know. How should I, when I never was there?" "Never was there? Why, you just said that you lodged there." "Well," said I, "if you must know the full particulars, I haven't got no lodgin's to go to." "No reglar lodgin's, you mean." "No lodgin's at all," I replied, "only here,"and I glanced round the pens. "Oh, that's all gammon, you know!" spoke Mouldy. "Every cove's got a lodgin'! What have you done with your old lodgin' ?" What had I done with it? That was a question blunt as it was unexpected; and by the manner in which the two boys eyed me and each other, it was plain that they saw the confusion it occasioned me. Mouldy pursued his inquiries. "If you hain't got no lodgin'," said he, "how do you get your wittles ?" "And where do you go of Sundays?" put in Ripston. I had made up mind to conceal my affairs entirely from my new friends for the present, at least; and here, all of a sudden, I found myself cornered, without any chance of escape. But, after all, where was the danger? To all appearance, they were boys who got their own living, and took care of themselves, without anybody's control. Perhaps it might be to my advantage to tell them how I was situated, or pretty nearly; they might be able to advise me how to set about getting work. "If I tell you all about it, will you promise that you won't split ?" I asked. Both the lads solemnly assured me that they would suffer death rather than be guilty of such "Then," said I, "I used to lodge at home. I lodged there last night." "But is it near Covent Garden ?" I asked. "What, Common Garden Theayter ?" answer-baseness. ed Mouldy, cocking his cap and giving his side locks a twist in imitation of the habits of the aristocracy. "Oh, yes! It's just a short ride in our broom from our house to the theayter; and Ripston and me goes whacks in a private box. Don't we, Ripston?" "What's the use of tellin' such jolly lies?" laughed Ripston. "Where we live is nigh Common Garden-both the market and the theayter. We lodges in the 'Delphi-that's where we lodges. Where do you lodge, young un ?" It didn't much matter where I lodged. No doubt I should be able to find a place near the market-perhaps in the market itself where I might pass the night quite as comfortably as in Smithfield, to say nothing of the advantages of being shown my way and being on the spot in good time in the morning. Without hesitation, I jumped out of the pen and into the pathway where they were. "Come on," said I; "it's getting late." What, along with your father and mother, and that ?" asked Ripston. "Yes." "And you've run away, and don't mean to go back any more?" "I'll never go back again," I answered, with great sincerity. "I daren't go back." "I see," said Mouldy, sagaciously nodding his head. "What was it that you nailed ?" "Nailed ?" Did they "Ay! prigged, don't you know? ketch it on you, or did you get clean off with it ?" "What do you mean? Did they ketch what on me?" "Well, that's good!" laughed Mouldy. "How should I know what it was you stole ? I wasn't there, was I ?" "But I didn't steal anything. It was because I was whacked so, that I ran away." The boys looked incredulous; and Mouldy laid his forefinger along the side of his nose, and winked impressively. "So you ran away on'y because you was whacked, eh?" observed Ripston. "Only! If you ever had any such weltings as I've been used to, you wouldn't say 'only.'' "But did you get reg'lar wittles, and all that?" "Pretty fair." "And a reg'lar bed-reg'lar don't you know, with sheets and blankets, and a bolster ?" ،، 'Why, of course," I replied. "Oh! of course, is it?" sneered Ripston; "and you wants us to believe that you gets all this your wittles, and your bed with sheets to it-and just because you was whacked you run away and are afeard to go home again? You're a jolly liar, that's what you are. "Else a jolly fool, which is wuss," spoke Mouldy, decidedly. "You ain't obliged to believe me; but what I've told you is all true," was all I could say. "Well, strange things does happen and so p'r'aps it is," said Ripston; "but what I ses is this-a chap wot runs away from good wittles and comforble lodgin's just because he gets whacked, oughter to be kept out of 'em till he learns the walue of 'em." "I wish somebody would grub me, and give me a comfor'ble lodgin on them terms," interposed Mouldy. They wouldn't get much profit on yer, Mouldy," grinned his companion; "but don't you be afeard; he's done something more'n he peaches to, only he won't say, because he thinks we'll split; and werry natural." Ripston was younger than Mouldy-two years younger, at least; but it was evident from his manner and speech that his worldly experience was very wide. All the time this conversation had been going on, we had been scudding along at as brisk a pace as Mouldy's slipslop boots would permit, up the Old Bailey and by Newgate, (where my companions having inquired whether I knew at which door they brought people out to hang 'em, and received from me an intimation that I did not, kindly paused for a moment to enlighten me,) out into Ludgate Street, and across the road into turnings and twistings dingier than any I had yet met with. Had it been daylight, the effect of perambulating such narrow, gloomy courts and alleys would have had anything but an enlivening effect on one's spirits; but, instead of day- | light, it was pitchy dark; and when I reflected that every step I took carried me farther away from home-from that home which, miserable and cruel as it had been to me, my companions, who might be regarded as competent judges in such matters, had declared that I was a jolly fool for leaving,-I began to be filled with remorse, and tears forced themselves into my eyes. Had I been compelled to talk, I should undoubtedly have betrayed my emotion; but, as luck-good or bad-would have it, my companions had settled down to silence; indeed, the shuffling trot | had begun to tell on them, leaving them no spare breath for conversation. So we sped along, I keeping a little in the rear, till at last we suddenly emerged from the dingy alleys and turned into the wide, gas-lit Strand. | | CHAPTER XIII. THE DARK ARCHES AND THE INHABITANTS THERE, LATE as it was-nearly eleven o'clock-there was plenty of noise and bustle, and so many people about, that it was as much as we could do to keep up the trot without danger of being knocked over, or at least of having our toes trod on. "Come on," said Ripston, looking over his shoulder, "we're nearly there." This remark cheered me considerably. Since we had turned into the Strand, I had been thinking what a beautiful part of the town Mouldy and the other boy lived in, or at least near, and how much I should like to live there too; but then followed the alarming thought that my companions were going "home"-home to their lodgings. They had told me so. I had not been invited to come with them; I had accompanied them voluntarily, and could expect nothing better than that they would presently turn into the house where they lodged, leaving me to get on as best I could. But Ripston had said, “ Come on; we are nearly there." Nearly at his lodgings that meant, of course; and I was invited to come on. I had lagged behind a good bit, partly because I was so very tired, and partly because a minute or so before somebody had trod on my left heel; but I responded to Ripston's invitation as cheerily as possible, and put my best leg foremost. All of a sudden, however, I missed both of them; they had vanished as completely as though they had melted. Where were they? Perhaps I had run past them. It seemed hardly likely, careful as I had been to keep my eyes on them; but there was no other solution to the mystery. I turned back a few paces, calling out their names, but nobody answered. I hurried on twenty yards or so, and called out "Ripston" as loud as I was able. Still no reply, and not a trace of them to be seen. The depression that had fallen on me So heavily while we were making our way through the courts and alleys, and which the glare and liveliness of the highway had nearly dispelled, now returned with greater force than before. My dismal conviction was, that the boys had designedly given me the slip. They didn't like my company, and finding themselves so near home, they had not scrupled to cut me in this unceremonious manner. Perhaps even they had altogether misled me in telling me that they were going near to Covent Garden Market; for all I knew to the contrary, Covent Garden might be altogether another road-I might be miles farther away from it than when I started! This last reflection was of so overwhelming a character, that I could no longer control my grief. I stepped off the path, and looked disconsolately this way and that down the long endless-looking road, and then I brought up. against a lamp-post and began to give vent to my sorrow to a tune which, no doubt, had it been long persisted in, would speedily have brought a mob round me. Suddenly, however, to my great joy, a wellrecollected voice saluted my ears. |