The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-09-28

MARY, WILL YOU GIVE NE Aloss
some years RIO OScAgled the set Of
chambers in the Temple, London, that
are generally associated with the names
OF Pendennis and George Warrington.
Four windows look out upon the gar
den court, the fountain and the Middle
Temple hail. The rooms are among the
pleasantest in London. A Mr.. James
Burnett Ca stranger to mel lives in the
apartment ascribed to George Warning
ton; the remaining FIVE rooms of the set
accommodated two friends Of mine
Edward Bold, barrister in fair prac-
tice, and his younger brother, a student
ut Charing Cross hospital, one of the
brightest, chee1iest lads ever knew.
We had small kitchen in common and
were ministered unto by a couple of
venerable ladies-Mrs. Swatman, glob-
Mar spinster Of about go, and her asso-
ciate and assistant, a widow Of mysteri-
Gus age.
These two excellent personages were a
source of vast entertainment to u.s. Mrs.
Swatman would announce, with the
greatest gravity, Eve want some new
shirts, /" or '.We shall need a new great
coat this winter, or ssDon't you think
we'd better get in some coaIsY' Speak
ing Of Edward Bold, she once said to me:
We've been together seven years nowr'
! am afraid that Mrs. Swatnan regarded
me with mild contempt. She had done
for barristers all her life and was pos
sessed with the notion that other men
were for the most part suspicious char
acters. Her misgiyings regarding me
were somewhat allayed by the discovery
that wrote for one or two newspapers
and magazines; many of .'the gentle
men, as she phrased it, being engaged
in similar pursuits. She was at all
events a faithful, Industrious and adj
mirable old creature, and, compared
with the average Temple laundress,
jewel among washerwomen.
Her worthy book" was a fearful and
wonderful sight. The handwriting re-
quired as much and as serious study as
would have qualified me to decipher
cuneiform inscriptions with ease; and
the theory Of photography affected by
the scribe was-whatever else might be
said Of t-delightfully straightforward
and unsophisticated. "Kollurd he'd"
''stak, !" ssshuger," 'scorfy," are examples
that occur to me Of an achievement in
this direction; and there was also mys-
FERROUS item which cropped up every
now and then under the name Of flag
gifts" Regarding this last curiosity and
q proper sense Of economy conspired at
length to make me request an explana-
ton. MRS. Swatman," said, chow is
it burn SO much wood? / see half
crown constantly for faggots; surely
there must be some mistake"
'Lor bless you, sir" was her reply,
with an indulgent chuckle at my opac-
ity, that amt faggots, it's 'forgetsr"
Mrs. Swat1nan's assistant was queer,
understood. shriveled old person who
looked as though she had been mum1ni-
fed in the time of the Pharaohs, and by
magic arts had been brought back to
life. Whether or not this were a true
account of her origin she was at any
rate that most inestimable Of treasures
a willing servant. No amount of trouble
ever moved her to complain; on the
most tempestuous days she would trot
out on errands without murmur, and
she would fetch the most extravagant
quantities of bath water as spontaneous
Iy as If it had been so much beer for her
own consumption. You are not to infer
from this comparison that she was adj
dicted to the beverage referred to; both
she and Mrs. Swatman were thoroughly
sober, respectable old bodies. For my
part I soon became their sworn adj
mirer, and this long before had any
suspicion how important part one of
them was to play in the little drama Of
my life.
One afternoon Eward Bold came into
my room to ask whether / cared to go to
some private theatricals. Now / hold
private theatricals to belittle better than
public nuisances; nevertheless, after
duly considering two possible contingent
advantages of the enterprise, decided
that go I would; and in the course of
day or two received card from Lady
Barracoot at home Thursday, June 19th;"
and when the Thursday in question came
around I presented myself at Lancaster
Gate.
The performance was to consist of an
opening farce-its name has escaped my
memory and Mr.. Arthur Sketchley's
comedy, Glow VIII They Get Out Of Itg"
and that shall never foget. The farce
bored me; the actors were imperfect,
and In looking forward to the comedy
which was to succeed / rapidly came to
the conclusion that it would be anything
but success and that ''they" never
would "get out of it," But there is an
end to all things, even to farce played
by amateurs, and after some tiresome
delay, which an exhibition of pyro-
technic pianoforte playing rendered still
more intolerable, the curtain rose on the
comedy.
was familiar with the piece, and re-
membszsd too well the Original cast