Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1897-09-25
The Story Teller.
IN A BOX.
The Story of an Internal Machine

The Story Of an Internal Machine
Ugh, what night it was! Twas
as if the usual winter slush of the
! London streets had vaporised itself,
and settled down again in the atmos-
phere as fog.
Then it was Christmas Eve. That
made it worse. The poor in London
often find it hard enough to keep up
their spirits in spite of cold, starvation
and neglect. Yet even to the most
miserable and desperate of us all, the
commotion that heralds Christmastide,
the busy going to and fro of those
with money to buy, and the hearty
display on the part of those who have
anything to sell-all these are some
thing to see, ever if you haven't six
pence to buy dinner with, or friend
on earth to greet with the "Compli-
ments of the Season." But when
King Fog blurs and overshadows ev-
erything, the temper of the unfortunate
classes is severely tried.
Twas very savage that night; saw
age with myself, savage with my en-
ployers, and savage most of all with
nv miserable lot in life. Once on a
time was well-to.do householder,
with a Aourishing watch and clock
makers business. But after a while
things went badly, somehow or other,
and I suppose I took more than was
good for me. At last the business
broke up and then-but there what's
the use of looking back ! had now
Iioined the ranks of the struggling and
|hopeless, and it seemed hard that, half
suffocated with fog, should be trudg-
ling the grimy streets between Clerken-
we'll and st. James's with heavyish
weight to carry on such night and at
such a season, while the rich and for
tunate were eating and drinking and
enioying themselves more than was
good for them. Bah it made my
Iblood boil to think of it! And yet l
felt the justice of it all. 1t was cause
and effect. AS we make our bed, so
we must lie upon it.
The fog grew so thick as l went
along that IL who have been famil-
lar with every square yard of London
ever since I can remember knowing
anything-came for a moment to a
standstill, and had to admit that l had
lost nv way. knew well enough
how I had come-Red Lion Square,
High Holborn, Broad Street, and the
Dials. ought to be in Cranborne
Street, or Leicester Square; but, for
the life of me, I could not see two
wards in front to make sure.
Only with some difficulty did l as
certain that there were houses at three
PAGES distance. I resolved topush on,
however, keeping my diseneaged hand
upon the walls and linteis and doors,
in order to have something substantial
to 20 by. Even this was awkward,
and nv progress soon became slower
than ever. So thick was the fog, that
with my hand on lamp-post literal,
Ily could rot distinguish the flames OF
the gas above me. Nevertheless, L
stumbled onwards in hope of meeting
some one to direct ME. But no one
came in sight. I suppose I had got
into a slum one ofthose places where,
they say, so many foreign desperadoes
lie in hiding; and was musing on
the evil repute of some of the back
streets in the most luxurious city in
the world, when all of a sudden l was
roughly seized, and before I had time
to use my tongue I was dragged within
a neighboring doorway. The door was
Immediately slammed, and ruthless
hands hustled me down dark passage
and into a back room, from which, l
felt sure, it was impossible to summon
assistance, however loudly l employed
my lungs.
Happily I was not injured in any
way-only greatly alarmed; and for
tunately I had retained enough pres
ence of mind to hold tight the handle
of the wooden box which I carried in
my hand. If I had dropped it Well,
l would rather not speculate upon
what would have happened if l had
dropped that box.
The room into which had been
thrust was lighted by single gas jet.
There was nothing about the apart
ment itself to suggest that my life was
in danger, for it was an ordinary sit
ting-room, fitted up with something
like feminine care. But I was very
quickly made to understand, by the
men who had dragged me into the
house, that they were capable of any
thing in pursuit of their ohject. There
were only two scoundrels present,
though it had seemed as if full score
were taking me prisoner.
"Now!" began one of the bullies, a
cross-eyed, burly brute, standing be-
tween me and the door.
"Well," I said, as he paused. The
box I carried was rather heavy. l
placed it cautiously upon the table in
the centre of the room, and asked,
"Pray, what is the meaning OF this
treatment?"
Money" replied the burly black
guard, with laconic frankness.