Year: 1875

GUS magazines-which l need not say
were always returned with thanks
And then he fell i'll; typhus, l fancy,
brought on by insufficient nourishment
and bad drainage and disappointed
hopes. The Registrar General doesn't
give return of these cases in any list
that l am aware Of But we see some
thing of them in our line of business,
nevertheless.


1t was just at this time that Mr. Broad
man found out Mrs. Vincent; for that
was the name of the young lady who
came to my shop with the gold seal.
Cambridge Terrace is not very far from
the Angel at Islington and there, in a
little back street Of small, respectable
houses, inhabited by Junior clerks, with
here and there lodging house, in one of
which Mr.. and Mrs. Vincent lived.
i They were rather shy, at first, of a
stranger, and little proud and naughty,
perhaps. People who have seen better
days, and are down upon their luck, are
apt to be so. But the parson, with his
pleasant ways and CHEEKY voice, soon
made it all right and, in jiffy, he and
Mr.. Vincent were talking about college,
for they had both been 10 the same uni
versity. And there was soon even a
smile, too-a wan smile enough-upon
the poor invalid's sharp-cut, thin face,
with the hollow, far-away eyes, which
looked at you as if out of a cavern. He
was the wreck of fine young fellow,
too; of one who had been used to his
hunting and shooting, and all the fine
country sports which make broad chest
ed, strong limbed country people the
envy of us poor, thin, pale townsfolk.
Mr.. Broadman came direct to me when
he left them. l did not live far Off and
he thought that l might lend them a
neighbor's help. Davis" said he, "that
poor fellow is dying; l can see death in
his eyes"


"What is he a-dying off," replied.
He looked at me steadfastly a moment,
and | could see a moisture in his eye as
he said, slowly and solemnly: "Of
starvation, Davls-of actual want of
food"


GA gentleman starving, in London, in
Islington, baronets son, too! Why,
it's Incredible"


mot at ALL" said Mr.. Broadman;
"these are the very people who do die of
starvation in London, and in all great
cities. Not the poor, who know where
the workhouse is, and who can get at the
relieving officer if the worst comes to
the worst; but the well-born who have
fallen into destitute poverty and who
carry their pride with them, and dive in
to back alley, like some wild animal
into hole, to die alone. Mr.. Vincent
wants wine and jellies, and all sorts of
good things-if help hasn't come too late
No, no, my friend" he continued, putting
back my hand, for l was ready to give
my money in a proper cause. No, no;
| have left them all they want at present,
Davis. But I'll tell you what you can
do you Can, if you like to play the good
Samaritan, go and see them, and cheer
them up bit Mrs. Vincent hasn't for
gotten your kindness to her, l can as
sure you. And | think her husband
would like to thank you too, and it would
rouse him up bit, perhaps" b" And then
Mr.. Broadman told me, shortly, some
thing of what those two poor things had
gone through-shC, loving and trusting
him so; and he, half mad he had brought
her to this pass, and could do nothing
for her.


Mr. Broadman wrote that very day to
the baronet; a proud, hard man, I'm told.
But the letter he wrote back was soft
enough, and melting to read; it was SO
full of human nature, you see-the IA
ther's heart swelling up at the thought of
getting back his son, and bursting
through the thick crust of pride which
had prevented him from making the
first advances. And the parson says to
me:


"Well, Mr.. Davis" he said, "there are
many people kept asunder only for want
of somebody to go between them, you
see, and make peace"


And I said partly to myself


"Why shouldn't Christianity itself be
such a general peacemaker as that?"


cay" replied Mr.. Broadman, eff peo-
pie only believed in it properly"


That very day we got the baronet's
letter | was on anyway in the afternoon
to Cambridge Terrace to pay my respects
to Mrs. Vincent-and I'd had sent in a
few bottles of gold old port wine from
my own wine-merchant-at least as good
as can be got for money or love. Well,
when l got near the door, l saw an
old gentleman walking up and down,
little disturbed, apparently, in his
| mind at finding himself in such
a queer locality, and as if looking for
something or somebody. A short, rosy
faced person he was, clean shaved as a
pin, and very neat and old-fashioned In
his dress; and with that sort of an air
about him which marks an English coun.
try gentleman wherever he may be.
Well, we soon got into talk, for I'd spot
I ted the baronet in a moment and he was
anxious to find out something about his
son as soon as he heard that / knew a
little of the young couple.
/ "And you do not think, sir, that my
that Mr.. Vincent is dangerously i'll" said
the old baronet; and there was sob in
his voice as he spoke, and his hand trem-
bled as helaid it upon mine.


"Here is the house, sir" said; and
I you will be able to judge for yourself" :"


He went in. At least the baronet went
into the room, trembling in every limb
with the excitement of seeing his son.
But when he set eyes ON him the. poor
old man was SO startled that he could
scarcely speak His son saw him and
tried to rise, but fell back feebly into his
chair. "Dear father" he murmured
weakly, stretching out thin, trembling
hand, "forgive-"


But the father was on his knees, by the
chair, in moment, clasping his sons
head in his arms, and fondling him as
he had done when the man was a baby.
/ "What have l to forgive? You must
forgive me for being so hard, my dear
boy, and get better soon, Wilfred, my
son, my sonp' Il e


! too had come into the room; ! could
rot help it, ] was SO interested and ex-
cited. But saw that in the young mans
face which made my heart sink in my
bosom like lead.


The young wife saw it too, and gave
one, two, three sharp screams, as if a
knife had been thrust into her side.