Los Angeles herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1900-1911, 1906-02-11

AT last the mail came in, and with IL let
ter. stood on the steps of the postof6ce in my
tattered up-country clothes, and tore IL omen
eagerly IL was from our London agents They
had the honor to acknowledge the receipt of our
valuable collection. in very good order. and
trusted to have an opportunity of submitting il
before long, in whole or in part, to the authori.
ties at The British Museum, who would doubt.
less be willing to pay reasonable price for &C.
THAT all. No remittance, no installment.
no sale even. Nothing at all had been done
Only vague hope or conditional promise Heav.
en- knew how long yet might have to wait for
my money.
And was pennless, meanwhile, and starv.
The digniied old man wiped his brow once
more Great drops stood it visibly. II was
clear the remembrance was painfully real to
him.
"How I ever got through the next three
weeks" he went on. after long deep pause,
moistenng his lips with coffee, "I don't know
to this day. can't bear to look upon il. took
a room in a negro hut by pawning my last
change Of clothes. and there I lived on watch.
ing and waiting for another mail from England
Throughout the day skulked; in the evening
ounged about the streets; and men whose ac-
quantance I'd picked up while / was in Bahia
offered me drinks in the saoons-but never any
food-and | was misunderstanding Drink,
drink, drink-but not a meal, or a mouthful. |
hung around the market in the early morning
and picked up morsels Of jam, or little bits Of
breadfruit, or stale mangoes, that even the ma
tves rejected, or half bad oranges, flung away
into the gutter. That was all I had to eat, and
as to work or money, could be had any
where. To the Brazilians ! was useless, because
] spoke very little Portuguese, and that little
picked up from the slaves up country, and when
/ called upon the English merchants Of the
place, they surveyed me through their spectacles
with very critical eyes-'An unfortunate Eng
lishman! Drink, drink, doubt. Why, he
smells Of rum this minute, Jones. Sorry to say,
my friend, we do nothing for you
$50 hung around the saloons, with part of
the manuscript of life and It's Origins actually
in my pocket with my scientific tastes and
my philosophic warnings and too the
strangers offered me, for very want of food, and
because I was a great deal too hungry and weak
to refuse anything earth with lump of
gar in it. Sometimes I got biscuit into the
bargain as well, but that was rarely; most often
it was rum-rum, rum alone--till wonder at
myself that I didn't sink offhand into 1nser-
able drunkard. 1t was an awful time. II makes
my head reel to recall it.
"At last, one day, when three weeks were
over, and no English mail to my knowledge had
yet arrived, I stood in my ragged clothes and
with my hungry face in a saloon in the town,
when suddenly a man whom I knew came in,
and looked at me steadily.
"'Hello, Spence he said. with start Of sur
prise, YOU look down in the mouth this morn
ing. Cheer up, old fellow. The English mails
in, and there's money for you at the Bank in
the Rua do Commerce.
'T stared at him in suspense. He was'a prac-
teal Joker. / knew his tricks well. I was
afraid to believe him. Perhaps he didn't realize
what matter of life and death that mail was
to me. Perhaps he was only trying, as he him
self would have said, to take good rise out Of
me-
"'You really mean it,? I gasped out. You're
in earnest, not hoaxing me?
"Honor bright he answered, laughing. Take
my davy on it any day. The cashiers chum
of mine; and he told me just now, if I met
Spence lounging about anywhere in the bars, to
tell him there money waiting for him
straight out from England.
my fingers trembled. My knees shook. I
went round in fever to the Rua do Commercial.
When I reached the bank steps, I didn't dare
to go in. My head swan with hunger, and rum,
and despair. How dare I ask for money in such
rags as these? How dare present myself, even
in respectable counting house? I was ashamed
to enter.
"For ten minutes or more stood there in
doubt leaning up against the Intel, afraid to
move; then at last plucked up courage to push
open the door, and stagger to the counter. The
cashier an Englishman. Any money to my
credit" I faltered out, with tremulous lips. My
name is Spence. I'm expecting remittance
"'Certainly, SIR he answered. Mr.. Everard
Spence: bill of exchange came in to-day for four
nunQred ana nlCy pouuus tnlTCeeH ehlilngs 10
your order at sight. How will you take it?'
'I trembled like an aspen leaf. It was moth
ing to him, but to me it was light, life deliver
ance I sat down and buried my face in my
hands, I was saved. Fred was saved Four
hundred and fifty pounds seemed wealth untold.
1t was more than in our widest dreams we'd
dared to hope for.
But since that day, I assure you, Pear
son, I've always had very sympathetic feeling
for unfortunate Englishmen who take to drink
in the tropics"