"It is too often the case that servants are looked upon as little better than slaves, and so to treat them. To say the least of such conduct it is unwise, for in proportion to the kindness with which they are treated, so will they study in return to make us enjoy numberless little comforts so delightful to experience, and which it is in their power to give life to or destroy. Humanity ought to suggest that the situation in which these persons are placed, witnessing nightly those scenes of pleasure, without being permitted to join in them, is sufficiently grating, for they all have their feelings, in common with the best of us, and it ought to be one of the first cares of the heads of families to lighten, as far as consistent with the rules and shades of society, the state and labours of their dependants. In France the servants are in an enviable condition compared with those of England, and if the plan were followed in this country, giving them their little pleasures, many a one, whose propensities were wavering, would be confirmed in virtue, and become a useful member, instead of a disgrace to society."
CHAPTER LXXXVII.
THE BLACKAMOOR.
Upon quitting Old Death's abode, Tim the Snammer and Josh Pedler proceeded together in the direction of Blackfriar's Bridge; while John Jeffreys, having wished those worthies "good night," pursued his way up Horsemonger Lane, and plunged into the maze of narrow, obscure streets lying at the back of the prison.
Although he had said "good night" to his companions, it was in reality morning; for the clock of the gaol chimed a quarter-past three as Jeffreys passed by that dismal-looking establishment.
Having reached the door of the house in which he lodged, and which was in one of the streets above alluded to, he drew a pass-key from his pocket, and was about to apply it to the lock, when the sounds of footsteps close by fell upon his ears, and almost at the same moment a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder.
The conscience of Mr. John Jeffreys was not quite so free from sources of alarm as to prevent him from being painfully startled by this occurrence; and turning suddenly round towards the individual who had thus accosted him, he found himself face to face with a blackamoor.
"Fear not—no harm is intended you," said the negro, in a deep, solemn, and sonorous voice, but without the least peculiarity of accent; "that is," he added, "if you follow my directions."
"And who are you?" demanded Jeffreys, reassured by the certainty that he was addressing no myrmidon of the law.
"It is not for you to question, but to answer," said the Black in a cool and authoritative manner which seemed to indicate the consciousness of possessing the power to enforce his will, even against any resistance that might be offered. "But I have no time to waste in unnecessary discourse. You must accompany me whither I shall lead you."
"And if I refuse?" asked Jeffreys, trembling he scarcely knew why.