THE BOY CROSSING-SWEEPERS.
[From a Daguerreotype by Beard.]
He ran before me, treading cautiously with his naked feet, until I reached a convenient spot to take down his statement, which was as follows:—
“I’ve got no mother or father; mother has been dead for two years, and father’s been gone more than that—more nigh five years—he died at Ipswich, in Suffolk. He was a perfumer by trade, and used to make hair-dye, and scent, and pomatum, and all kinds of scents. He didn’t keep a shop himself, but he used to serve them as did; he didn’t hawk his goods about, neether, but had regular customers, what used to send him a letter, and then he’d take them what they wanted. Yes, he used to serve some good shops: there was H——’s, of London Bridge, what’s a large chemist’s. He used to make a good deal of money, but he lost it betting; and so his brother, my uncle, did all his. He used to go up to High Park, and then go round by the Hospital, and then turn up a yard, where all the men are who play for money [Tattersall’s]; and there he’d lose his money, or sometimes win,—but that wasn’t often. I remember he used to come home tipsy, and say he’d lost on this or that horse, naming wot one he’d laid on; and then mother would coax him to bed, and afterwards sit down and begin to cry.
“I was not with father when he died (but I was when he was dying), for I was sent up along with eldest sister to London with a letter to uncle, who was head servant at a doctor’s. In this letter, mother asked uncle to pay back some money wot he owed, and wot father lent him, and she asked him if he’d like to come down and see father before he died. I recollect I went back again to mother by the Orwell steamer. I was well dressed then, and had good clothes on, and I was given to the care of the captain—Mr. King his name was. But when I got back to Ipswich, father was dead.
“Mother took on dreadful; she was ill for three months afterwards, confined to her bed. She hardly eat anything: only beaf-tea—I think they call it—and eggs. All the while she kept on crying.
“Mother kept a servant; yes, sir, we always had a servant, as long as I can recollect; and she and the woman as was there—Anna they called her, an old lady—used to take care of me and sister. Sister was fourteen years old (she’s married to a young man now, and they’ve gone to America; she went from a place in the East India Docks, and I saw her off). I used, when I was with mother, to go to school in the morning, and go at nine and come home at twelve to dinner, then go again at two and leave off at half-past four,—that is, if I behaved myself and did all my lessons right; for if I did not I was kept back till I did them so. Mother used to pay one shilling a-week, and extra for the copy-books and things. I can read and write—oh, yes, I mean read and write well—read anything, even old English; and I write pretty fair,—though I don’t get much reading now, unless it’s a penny paper—I’ve got one in my pocket now—it’s the London Journal—there’s a tale in it now about two brothers, and one of them steals the child away and puts another in his place, and then he gets found out, and all that, and he’s just been falling off a bridge now.
“After mother got better, she sold all the furniture and goods and came up to London;—poor mother! She let a man of the name of Hayes have the greater part, and he left Ipswich soon after, and never gave mother the money. We came up to London, and mother took two rooms in Westminster, and I and sister lived along with her. She used to make hair-nets, and sister helped her, and used to take ’em to the hair-dressers to sell. She made these nets for two or three years, though she was suffering with a bad breast;—she died of that—poor thing!—for she had what doctors calls cancer—perhaps you’ve heard of ’em, sir,—and they had to cut all round here (making motions with his hands from the shoulder to the bosom). Sister saw it, though I didn’t.
“Ah! she was a very good, kind mother, and very fond of both of us; though father wasn’t, for he’d always have a noise with mother when he come home, only he was seldom with us when he was making his goods.