The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1857-12-03
THE DOCTORS STORY.

q
low voice, and with his former troubled ex
preston of face, @ have seen that your atten
ton has been concentrated on my friend"
He fascinates me. l must apologize to
you. but he has quite bewildered and mastered
me-"
81 find that lonely existence and long
secret" said the Doctor, drawing his chair a
little nearer to Mr.. Goodchild's, become in
the course of time very heavy. / will tell you
something You may make what use you will
OF 1t under fictitious Eames. / know / may
trust you. [ am the more inclined to con-
fidence tonight through having been unex.
pectedly led back, by the current of our con.
versation at the Inn, to scenes in my early life.
Will you please to draw a little nearer 2"
Mr.. Goodchild drew little nearer, and the
Doctor went on thus--speaking, for the most
part, in so cautious voice that the wind,
though it was far from high, occasionally got
the better of him:
When this present. nineteenth century was
younger by a good many years than it is now,
certain friend of mine, named Arthur Holli-
day, happened to arrive in the town of Don
caster, exactly in the middle of the race week,
or, in other words, in the middle of the month
of September. He was one of those reckless,
rattle pated, open.hearted and open-monthed
young gentlemen, who possess the gift of famil.
iarity in its highest perfection, and who scram-
BILE carelessly along the journey of life, making
friends, as the phrase is, wherever they go.
His father was rich manufacturer, and had
bought landed property enough in one of the
midland counties to make all the born squires
In his neighborhood thoroughly envious of him.
Arthur was his only son, possessor in prospect
OF the great estate and the great business after
his fathers death we'll supplied with money,
and not too rigidly looked after, during his
fathers lifetime. Report or scandal, which
ever you please, said that the old gentleman
had been rather wild in his youthful days. and
that, unlike most parents, he was not disposed
to be violently indignant when he found that
his son took after him. This may be true, or
not. l myself only knew the elder Mr.. Holli-
day when he was getting on in years and then
he was as quiet and as respectable a gentleman
as ever / met with.
Well, one September, as | told you, young
Arthur comes to Doncaster, having decided all
of a sudden, in his hare Drained way, that he
would go to the races. He did not reach the
town till toward the close of the evening, and
he went at once to see about his dinuer and
bed at the principal hotel. Dinner they were
ready enough to give him but as for bed,
they laughed when he mentioned it. In the
race-week at Doncas:er, it is no uncommon
thing for visitors who have not bespoken apart
ments to pass the night in their carriages at
the inn doors. AS for the lower sort of stran.
gers, 1 myself have often seen them, at that
full time, sleeping out on the doorsteps, for
want of a covered place to creep under. Rich
"a he was, Arthur's chance of getting q nights
lodging (seeing that he had not written before.
hand to secure one was more than doubtful.
He tried the second hotel, and the third hotel,
and two of the inferior inns after that, and
was met everywhere by the same form of answer.
Mas a4eeffaanYsdaliQn t9r the night of any sort
his pocket would not buy him bed at Don
caster in the raceweek.
To young fellow of Arthur's temperament,
the novelty of being turned away into the street,
like penniless vagabond, at every house where
he asked for lodging, presented itself in the
light of new and highly-amusing piece of ex-
perience. He went on, with his carpet-bag in
his hand, applying for bed at every place of
for travellers that he could find
in Doncaster, until he wandered into the out
skirts of the town. By this time the last glim-
mer of twilight had faded out, the moon was
rising dimly in a mist, the wind was getting
cold, the clouds were gathering heavily, and
there was every prospect that it was soon going
to rain.
The look of the night had rather a lowering
effect on young Holidays good spirits. He
began to contemplate the houseless situation in
which he was placed, from the serious rather
than the humorous point of view; and he look
ed about him for another public house to in
quire at, with something very like downright
anxiety in his mind on the subject of a lodging
for the night. The suburban part of the town
toward which he had now strayed was hardly
lighted at all, and he could see nothing of the
houses as he passed them, except that they
grew progressively smaller and dirtier, the
further he went. Down the winding road be-
fore him shone the dull CLEAN of an oil lamp,
the one faint, lonely light that struggled inef.
fectually with the foggy darkness all round him.
He resolved to go on as far as this lamp, and
then, if it showed him nothing in the shape of
an Inn, to return to the central part of the town,
and to try if he could not at least secure a
chair to sit down on, through the night, at one
of the principal Hotels.
AS he got near the lamp, he heard voices
and, walking close under, found that it lighted
the entrance to a narrow court, on the wall OF
which was painted long hand in faded flesh.
color, pointing, with lean forefnger, to this
inscription:
THE TWO ROBINS
ton, to see what the Two Robins could do for
him. Four or five men were standing together
round the door of the house, which was at the
bottom of the court, facing the entrance from
the street. The men were all listening to one
other man, better dressed than the rest, who
was telling his audience something in low
voice, in which they were apparently very much
interested.
On entering the passage, Arthur was passed
by stranger with a knapsack in his hand
who was evidently leaving the house.
"No," said the traveller with the knapsack
turning round and addressing himself cheerfully
to fat, sly looking, bald-headed man, with 8
dirty white apron on, who had followed him
down the passage. "No, Mr. Landlord, ar
not easily scared by triHes; but / don't mind
confessing that can't quite stand that"
1t occurred to young Holiday, the moment
he heard these words, that the stranger had
been asked an exorbitant price for a bed a
The Two Robins and that he was unable OF
unwilling to give it. The moment his bach
was turned, Arthur, comfortably conscious o
his own wellflled pockets, addressed himself
in great hurry, for fear any other benightet
traveller should slip in and forestsll him, to the
sly-looking landlord with the dirty apron ani
the bald head.
" 1t you have got bed to let" he said, "anc
if that gentleman who has Just gone out won't
pay you your price for it. will" 3
The sly landlord looked hard at Arthur.
"Will you, sir F" he asked, in a meditative
doubtful way.
shame your price," said young Holiday
thinking that the landlords hesitation sprane
from some boorish distrust of him. "Namt
your price, and I'll give you the money at once
if you like"
care you game for five shllings /" inquired
the landlord, rubbing his stubbly double chin
and looking up thoughtfully at the ceiling aboy,
him.
Arthur nearly laughed in the mans face