Volunteer Captain (Acting Major first time). “ Now then ! what are you Boys staring at ? Did you never see a War-Horse BEFORE? ”
Boys (who had followed expecting a ” epill. ) “Aye—we’ve whiles seen a waur Horse, but never a waur Rider 1
THE CRIMINAL OE THE FUTURE,
(A Chapter from a forthcoming Romance.)
Slippery Dicic liurried away from the scene of his crime. His knowledge of the law told him that his only chance of safety depended upon immediate flight. “ It is no time for idle remorse,” he mur
mured, as he rapidly disguised himself, by assuming a false nose, a
pair of blue spectacles, and the smock-frock of an agricultural labourer. “The deed is done, and if I am oaught I must pay the penalty. Oh, would I were once again an innocent child ! ”
And this strong man burst into a very agony of grief, and wept long and bitterly. Though his career was stained with the deepest guilt, yet he had a heart. Nay—more—he had a mother! Ho remembered her at this supreme hour of his misery.
“Take a drink of water, mate,” said a workman kindly. You look pale, and I think it will do you good.”
Dick drained the goblet, to the dregs. Then he hurried on.
“ Had that honest artizan known who and what I am, ho thought with a shudder, “would he have offered me a friendly drink ? ’
Then he blusned all over with shame. For this guilty creature had once been a churchwarden. He had been loved and respected in the days gone by. His name had figured in subscription lists, and he had a wife, children, and a happy home !
“All gone!” he murmured with a sob, “All gone! I am a wretched outcast. I dare not take a man’s hand, for did he recognise me, ho would spurn me for the miserable wretch I am ! ”
By this time he had reached the railway station. He assumed the dialect of the country, and asked for a third-class ticket to London.
It was given to him. As he hastily entered a compartment, he fancied he heard the porters talking about him.
“ If they catch him,” said one of these officials, “ he won’t get much mercy.”
“And he don’t deserve it,” cried another, indignantly, “The brute should be punished-----”
Slippery Dick heard no more. He rushed into a smoking carriage and muffling up his face in an old shawl, slunk into a dark corner. They were disoussing his crime even there !
“They say that he’s escaped,” observed a youth, who had evidently been educated by the School Board, lighting his pipe. “ It will be disgraceful if he gets away. Such a miscreant should not be at large for a single hour.”
“ Nay, you are too hard upon him,” remonstrated a venerable Clergyman, who was travelling third-class, apparently that he might be able to give more to the deserving poor. “ He may yet repent.”
“ Repent! ” echoed the youth, puffing away at his pipe. “ How can such as he repent ? His wickedness is too great, Sir ! ”
“ It is never too late to mend ! ” replied the benevolent and aged ecclesiastic, looking at Slippery Dicic, and raising his eyes to the ceiling. “ Believe me, even the most hardened ruffian may be won over by gentleness and mercy.”
Slippery Dick felt inclined to fall upon the good parson’s neck, and kiss him. With a superhuman effort he restrained his emotion. And then they began to talk of his awful crime once again. Oh,
how they denounced him ! He could bear it no longer. He had to open the window, to put his head out and shriek. At the very first Station he quitted the train.
“ This mental Btrain is too much for me,” he cried. I must confess to somebody. My horrible secret is killing me !
As he said this he turned round, and found the aged Clergyman standing heside him. ... , „,
“Ah! you, Reverend Sir, shall know all my wickedness! he cried. “Stop!” shouted the other, suddenly throwing off a white wig and a clerical wideawake : “ it is my duty to caution you that any
thing you say will be taken down and used against you at your trial. Wretched man, know that I am Hawksiiaw the Detective ! ”
The instinct of self-preservation is implanted in every breast.
Slippery Dick made a desperate effort to escape.
“ No, you don’t! ” cried Hawkshaw, seizing his prisoner by the throat. “ Your time is come. I have a warrant for your apprehension.”
“ On what charge r
Then came the awful answer—
“ On the charge of bribery and corruption at the last contested Election! ” And loading his captive with gigantic chains, the Detective dragged off the miserable culprit to prison !
Boys (who had followed expecting a ” epill. ) “Aye—we’ve whiles seen a waur Horse, but never a waur Rider 1
THE CRIMINAL OE THE FUTURE,
(A Chapter from a forthcoming Romance.)
Slippery Dicic liurried away from the scene of his crime. His knowledge of the law told him that his only chance of safety depended upon immediate flight. “ It is no time for idle remorse,” he mur
mured, as he rapidly disguised himself, by assuming a false nose, a
pair of blue spectacles, and the smock-frock of an agricultural labourer. “The deed is done, and if I am oaught I must pay the penalty. Oh, would I were once again an innocent child ! ”
And this strong man burst into a very agony of grief, and wept long and bitterly. Though his career was stained with the deepest guilt, yet he had a heart. Nay—more—he had a mother! Ho remembered her at this supreme hour of his misery.
“Take a drink of water, mate,” said a workman kindly. You look pale, and I think it will do you good.”
Dick drained the goblet, to the dregs. Then he hurried on.
“ Had that honest artizan known who and what I am, ho thought with a shudder, “would he have offered me a friendly drink ? ’
Then he blusned all over with shame. For this guilty creature had once been a churchwarden. He had been loved and respected in the days gone by. His name had figured in subscription lists, and he had a wife, children, and a happy home !
“All gone!” he murmured with a sob, “All gone! I am a wretched outcast. I dare not take a man’s hand, for did he recognise me, ho would spurn me for the miserable wretch I am ! ”
By this time he had reached the railway station. He assumed the dialect of the country, and asked for a third-class ticket to London.
It was given to him. As he hastily entered a compartment, he fancied he heard the porters talking about him.
“ If they catch him,” said one of these officials, “ he won’t get much mercy.”
“And he don’t deserve it,” cried another, indignantly, “The brute should be punished-----”
Slippery Dick heard no more. He rushed into a smoking carriage and muffling up his face in an old shawl, slunk into a dark corner. They were disoussing his crime even there !
“They say that he’s escaped,” observed a youth, who had evidently been educated by the School Board, lighting his pipe. “ It will be disgraceful if he gets away. Such a miscreant should not be at large for a single hour.”
“ Nay, you are too hard upon him,” remonstrated a venerable Clergyman, who was travelling third-class, apparently that he might be able to give more to the deserving poor. “ He may yet repent.”
“ Repent! ” echoed the youth, puffing away at his pipe. “ How can such as he repent ? His wickedness is too great, Sir ! ”
“ It is never too late to mend ! ” replied the benevolent and aged ecclesiastic, looking at Slippery Dicic, and raising his eyes to the ceiling. “ Believe me, even the most hardened ruffian may be won over by gentleness and mercy.”
Slippery Dick felt inclined to fall upon the good parson’s neck, and kiss him. With a superhuman effort he restrained his emotion. And then they began to talk of his awful crime once again. Oh,
how they denounced him ! He could bear it no longer. He had to open the window, to put his head out and shriek. At the very first Station he quitted the train.
“ This mental Btrain is too much for me,” he cried. I must confess to somebody. My horrible secret is killing me !
As he said this he turned round, and found the aged Clergyman standing heside him. ... , „,
“Ah! you, Reverend Sir, shall know all my wickedness! he cried. “Stop!” shouted the other, suddenly throwing off a white wig and a clerical wideawake : “ it is my duty to caution you that any
thing you say will be taken down and used against you at your trial. Wretched man, know that I am Hawksiiaw the Detective ! ”
The instinct of self-preservation is implanted in every breast.
Slippery Dick made a desperate effort to escape.
“ No, you don’t! ” cried Hawkshaw, seizing his prisoner by the throat. “ Your time is come. I have a warrant for your apprehension.”
“ On what charge r
Then came the awful answer—
“ On the charge of bribery and corruption at the last contested Election! ” And loading his captive with gigantic chains, the Detective dragged off the miserable culprit to prison !