Year: 1875

IdAEF-LlFE IN DUBLIN,


The following sketch is from very
clever story in the July atlantic, calf
ed "Broke JAIL" by new writer:


II suppose I was born in Dublin,
though in what corner or cellar or
garret have no idea. My first rec
election is of leading an old woman
around the streets who pretended to
be blind, but could see like a cat.
She called herself my grandmother.
If that was true it was the only truth
I ever heard her tell. She begged in
the streets, and did little in the way
Of looking up good jobs for the bur-
glars. We lived in a celler in the
thieves and beggars' quarter. Old
Mag Runnells-that was the old wo-
mans name-was quito character
there. People who feared the police,
or who had stolen something bad to
hide or hard to sell, used often to come
to her for advice. They always
brought with them a bottle Of whiskey,
for devil word would old Mag say
till her whistle was wet. sometimes
a man or woman Of our set would
want to borrow small sum of money
Of her, and would bring some valua-
BILE to be left in pawn for the loan.
She would say, Go away wild yer
bawble and don't be cracking yer
jokes on poor old blind body. If
yell come back in an hour, maybe l
can find some pawnbroker where
can spout it for yees. They all know
that ould Mag is honest, and not wan
Of them fears to put out the money on
| what she fetches thin. Yes, yes,
come back in an hour, honey, and I'll
thry what I can do for yees.' Then
she'd send me of to play, and while
she was alone she would get the mon
ey out of some hiding-place she did
have somewhere.


"She was not very hard on me. I
must say that for her. She did cuff
and bang me about good deal when
she was out Of sorts or drunk, and
taught me to read and write and rec
on, for she was quite scholar, and
had done something at forgery in her
day.


ut would have edited you to see
the old woman and me on our rounds
in the streets, She went always in
black, threadbare clothes, with never
a speck Of dust on them, and the
whitest and stifest starched cap in all
Dublin. She did look as decent as
church-warden's widow. Her quare
old eyes stared straight before her.
She rocked binder nor a wooden
God and older nor the Lord Lieu
tenants castle. I wore, nice clean,
patched jacket and trousers, and~,A
close-fttingskull-cap. Oh, butwasn't
I the meek, dutiful little grandson,
leading his grandmother, and didn't
I know how to blarney the kind gen.
tleman and beautiful ladies! We
didn't waste much time on the citi-
zens, but devoted our attention main
ly to the country gentlemen and
country traders and their good wives,
who almostalways gave us something.
We were the best beggars in Dublin.
Old Mag used to say that, if one had
talent for it, begging was far more
profitable nor stealing, to say nothing
of the danger. Sure, the old body
had right to know, for she had tried
both. She had been in jail I don't
know how often, and had fourteen
years at Botany Bay.


"Sometimes we would go into a
house or shop to beg. If we got moth
ing else we were sure to get an obser-
vat,on ofthe premises that might be
useful to the burglers. I believe
Mag's only notion of honor was that
it would be scaly trick to report a
house where the people had given her
silver, to the burglars. But woe to
those who gave her nothing, or cop
pers, If there was anything in the
house worth stealing.


"These same burglars did used to
borrow me now and again of dark
night, to lift me in at windows and
poke me through holes where man
conldnt 60.


"One morning when I was about
ten years old, or maybe eleven, I lay
in my bed Of rags in one corner Of
our cellar long after I had walked up
wondering why the old woman didn't
call me as she used to do. At last
crawled out Of my own accord, and
went to see what allied the old body,
She was dead. I was sharp little
devil, and hunted the cellar through
for old Mag's money, before called
the neighbors. I only found a few
!: shillings."


HOW THE GIRLS EAT CANDY AT VAS


sAR COILEGE.