New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1897-07-25
WITHOUT DUE AUTHORITY.
From Belgravia.

behind the ratings in the park, absorbed in an
effort, altogether unavailing. to save the Souls Oh
his feow-citizens IN this metropolis of evil
few yards away revolutionary brlcklayer-out
of work. and with the strongest private objec-
ton to being in it-had hurled denunciations at
the iniquitous British constitution to the delight
OF himself and the amusement Of his audience
and of couple Of placidly smiling policemen
who stood near in that impersonal yet protective
attitude characteristic" Of the force. little fur
Their on. lightning artist of tender years fur
nished quiet antidote to gesticuatory anarchy
by the reproduction on paper of the Duke of
Yorks baby" to chorus of loyal applause. On
the preachers other hand martyr. whose
motives his country had gnorantly misunder-
stood, perhaps not without just occasion, had
related with some feeling, much abuse Of au-
thoriti6s. and more of thai luckless eighth letter
OF the alphabet which is the chosen victim OF
eoquence ir fustian the melancholy details Of
an enforced retreat from public life which, to
judge by appearances he had very richly de-
served When the preachers audience tired Of
his discourse. they had only to turn their heads
to imbibe incipient anarchy and detected patriot
ism, or cultivate a healthy admiration for Juve-
nile talent ard the reigning house-a combna-
ton of conflicting sentiments peculiar to Hyde
Park on Sunday afternoon
The other orators however. had found com
pensation for their wrongs in the delight OF air
ing them at large. They retired from the field Of
battle hoarse, but triumphant. The preachers
triumph was question which he could only re-
gard as much more dubious. In moments OF
despair which sometimes fell to his lot, he knew
that his congregations merely regarded him as
an intcrlude between the denunciatiOns OF the
political bricklayer and the dismal rhetoric OF
the ex-thief But, to do him justice. these mo
ments were few and far between. He had
fought a hard battle from a very early age. and
defeat had ceased to depress him save at odd
times when he was, perhaps. little colder, hun
grier Sadder than ii his usual fate to be.
As he stood at the corner a hand was laid on
his shoulder. and he turned to find himself face
to face with DR.. JEFF They had met before. In
slums and byways. and each man knew enough
OF the others life to respect it, cannot assert
that jeff is the little doctors real name. and
pc hal he has a history. or mystery. or both
q skeleton which he h des in the cupboard at his
shabby lodgings, with The stale bread and highly
unprofessional cheese which that receptacle con
tains-but that there is no kinder soul
In all London. despite his snarlS. his sarcasms
and the inexpressibly unorthOdoX opinions which
he scatjers broadcast in his way. All men nave
their hlpocrsies. and he has his. 1t Is his de-
light to shock people. to pose as something very
little better than the archfiend himself. ! have
seen him succeed admirably in his deception
with Strangers Those who know the good little
man know also that he would not willingly
bruise butterhys wing, nor offend the dirtiest
and most melodous tabby that serenades his
preacher turned his white face and tired eyes
upon hi n and forced a smile. there was a char
table scheme brewing in Jens mind
Finished spoutinP?" he asked. grunly. walk
my way. will you? Abominable weather.
He spoke with a savage air, as though the
weather and he were terms Of violent hostil
ity JETS manner generally suggested the feud
bric' md stiletto and other paraphernalia Of
med val murder
They walked for some time in silence during
which the doctor eyed his companion with
bloodi hirsty expression Of countenanCe
"Iictter give ii up he said al last. Wearing
yourself out for nothing All bosh."
as to" asked the preacher half sadly. Some
times II almost wish my profession allowed me
20 think SO. too, doctor. But IL doesn't"
Hang your profession." jerked out JEFF
you're not parson?"
Ever been one?'
mo"
"Then, why in the name of common-sense
don't you go and earn some money? My good
fellow. you're'-
lie stopped awkwardly. with queer glance al
the preachers thin face and shabby clothes
What's the good Of preaching?" he went on
changing his sentence. The world went very
well for great many centuries before you were
born: it'll go very well for many more after
you're buried. Let it go!'
The preachers deep eyes flashed.
"Tll never do that" he said quietly.
They had walked a considerable way. and Jeff
looked up with well -assumed start Of surprise
Hanged if this isn't my place, Never meant
TO bring 1u all this way. Come in and rest"
The preacher hesitated; but he did not wish to
give offence. and finally they tramped up the
harrow stairs to Jeff's sanctum-a little sitting
room with hideous cheap furniture. a fiaring
paper and table Uttered with books 1t was all
very cheerless very dingy but Jeff waved his
guest to a chair with a certain dignity foreign
to his usual manner-a survival perhaps, OF
other ways Of life, and Of other vistants than
street preachers. After ALL ii is the who
makes his surroundings. parVcnu can be vul-
gar In a palace; our little doctor, despite his
buster. might have been prince in disguise.
So the preacher thought as he sat down in the
armchair-black, hors ehair covered. and def
cient in the matter % springs and glanced
round the room at the well-worn books. at the
oil-stOve, which smelt abominably, at the cup
board where tho skeleton clattered its empty
Jaws among dry crusts and ancient cheese
"Not much Of place is -" said Jeff We've
known better, both Of But il doeS-anything
does Excuse me. but want my supper Do
Won mind my getting T.? Coin don't run to many
rlnar1c ,.1,,n holm L