The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1886-05-15
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UNDER ORDERS.

UNDER ORDERS
From London Society.
In the shabby ground-foor room, which
eoptriyed to do duty as study, dining-room
nursery, and general sitting room OF
vicarage in the East End of London, sat
one afternoon in late Autumn, a mother
and son. The most pathetic form OF pov'
ertv-the kind which is linked In lndls
soluble union with gentility-had stamped
this pondescript apartment for its own
The wall paper had seen better days, ano
had lighted on exceptionally dingy ones
the ceiling was blackened with gas; the
carpet had lost all trace of its original pat
tern; the drugget was copiously darned IN
nlaees. where a threadbare condition re
corded the track of footsteps; the horse
hair seats of the mahogany chairs were
deplorably worn at the edges, and the po
sition of railway rug in the very centre
of forbidding looking sofa suggested the
idea that rents or stains probably lurkec
beneath its friendly shade.
Little folks had left marks Of their pres
ence scattered here and there in the room
On the s:deboard was pile of copy books
dog's-eared primers, and story books, flank
ed by an atlas; from behind sofa bolster
peeped scantily attired doll, with solemn
staring blue eyes, hectic cheeks, and bat
tered head, whereon bald patches alter
mated with faxen ringlets.
The house stood in plot of unproduc-
tive land-by courtesy called garden
which apparently furnished recreation
ground for a number of hens, who at the
present moment derived strange enjoy.
ment from occupying holes, which they had
scratched for themselves, in the earth be-
meath some decrepit shrubs. Beyond the
garden stretched the streets and lanes OF
Whitechapel. Ceaseless street cries min
gled with the rattle of wheels, the banging
of omnibus doors, and the jinglng of tram
car bells. "Third edition-Ecco," shouted
in shrill treble, sharp looking youngster
with bundle of papers under his arm
'Six for Representatives., roared
the deep bass of costermonger; dust
man, knife grinder, shoeblack, cat
meat man, fish stall keeper, and othel
members of the itinerant fraternity blended
their voices in maddening chorus.
Within the Vicarage, mother and son
needless of the distracting sounds, were
engaged in earnest conversation. Th'
mother, middle-aged lady, with care
worn, refined face, diligently darned smal
sock which stood greatly in need of hel
services; the son, young man of abou
three and twenty, with slim 1.-THE figur'
and boyish, handsome, sensitive face, me
chanically watched her flying needle as h'
listened or replied.
Mrs. Murray was wife of the Vicar o
St. Stephens, Whitechapel, an elderly
scholarly, unsuccessful clergyman, who's.
means were wholly inadequate to meet al
the claims made on him by numerou
family. The son-David by name-hat
early developed intellectual tastes; his ex
penses at school and college had been de
frayed by wealthy eccentric kinsman o
his mother. The youth turned out shy
studious, and dreamy, the. possessor of al
enthusiasm for poetry, but of little practi
cal ability, and of no instructive knowledg
of the world. When, with the attainmen
of the "Newdigate'' and good degree, hi
college career came to an end, and the tim
arrived when aid in the adoption of call
ing would have been highly acceptable, tn
relations assistance was capriciously with
drawn. David Murray returned home
and doubt reigned under the paternal roo
with regard to his prospects in life. Hi
father shook his head obviously when tn
young man bashfully professed himself
wooer of the muse and expressed desir
to follow the vocation of poet. "Poetr,
doesn't pay, even when the writer is ge
MUS, and-you are not genius, you know
David, said the clergyman, with sorrowfu
candor.
Mrs. Murray belonged to a wealthy fam
lily who had taken umbrage at her marriag
with a poor parson. Her brothers ant
sisters had consigned her to oblivion, AM
her name was omitted from her father
will. But few days before my story
opens sister, the widow of fabulousl.,
rich East Indian merchant, named Wilton
held out the golden sceptre of reconcilia
ton, and Mrs. Murray touched it witt
trembling rapture. awe are sisters" gra
ciously wrote Mrs. Wilton from Florence
where she was spending some months, "an'
it is time to forget our differences. From
this exordium the widow passed to the mar
ration of a family quarrel, which had in
direct related to the Murray interests. "
am greatly disappointed, she wrote, I'll
my nephew Tom-poor James son-who
till lately, managed my estates in Deyol
and Somerset. He has given me grav
cause for displeasure, and have shut m
doors upon him. This being the case,
am anxious to make the acquaintance Q
your eldest lad, who has received no bent
fits from me, and from whom, therefore
according to the way of the world d''-ange
invested the writer's pen with unwonte
sarcasm-"I expect the more gratitude
You have not yet, / suppose, seen you
way to putting your son into any profession
Well, Toms empty place, as steward, ma
in time and after due preparation suit hir
who knows2 | am resolved to like tn
lad; l even build castles in the air fc
him, and bave in my head scheme for b
marriage with my husbands ward, Joyc
Balfour, who lives with me and is my heil
ess. Send your son to Florence, to pas
the Winter here, and to return with us
the Spring to Devonshire Let him spen
what time and see what places be likes Z
route. inclose check for his travein
lexpenses."