Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. by Various None (have you read this book txt) 📖
- Author: Various None
Book online «Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. by Various None (have you read this book txt) 📖». Author Various None
To All Who Watch And All Who Wait
The King Will Come, Or Soon Or Late.
Choose Well: Thy Secret Wish Is Known,
And Thou Shalt Surely Have Thine Own--
A Golden Cup Thy Poor Wealth'S Sign,
Or On Thy Lips Love'S Seal Divine.
Emily A. Braddock.
Baubie Wishart.
"I Have Taken You At Your Word, You See, Miss Mackenzie. You Told Me Not
To Give Alms In The Street, And To Bring The Begging Children To You. So
Here Is One Now."
Thus Introduced, The Begging Child Was Pushed Forward Into The Room By
The Speaker, A Lady Who Was Holding Her By One Shoulder.
She Was A Stunted, Slim Creature, That Might Have Been Any Age From Nine
To Fourteen, Barefooted And Bareheaded, And Wearing A Rob Roy Tartan
Frock. She Entered In a Sidelong Way That Was At Once Timid And
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 78Confidently Independent, And Stared All Round Her With A Pair Of Large
Brown Eyes. She Did Not Seem To Be In The Least Frightened, And When
Released By Her Guardian Stood At Ease Comfortably On One Foot, Tucking
The Other Away Out Of Sight Among The Not Too Voluminous Folds Of Her
Frock.
It Was Close On Twelve O'Clock Of A March Day In The Poor Sewing-Women'S
Workroom In drummond Street. The Average Number Of Women Of The Usual
Sort Were Collected Together--A Depressed And Silent Gathering. It
Seemed As If The Bitter East Wind Had Dulled And Chilled Them Into A
Grayer Monotony Of Look Than Usual, So That They Might Be In Harmony
With The General Aspect Which Things Without Had Assumed At Its Grim
Bidding. A Score Or So Of Wan Faces Looked Up For A Minute, But The
Child, After All, Had Nothing In Her Appearance That Was Calculated To
Repay Attention, And The Lady Was Known To Them All. So "White Seam"
Reasserted Its Old Authority Without Much Delay.
Miss Mackenzie Laid Down The Scissors Which She Had Been Using On A Bit
Of Coarse Cotton, And Advanced In Reply To The Address Of The Newcomer.
"How Do You Do? And Where Did You Pick Up This Creature?" She Asked,
Looking Curiously At The Importation.
"Near George Iv. Bridge, On This Side Of It, And I Just Took Hold Of Her
And Brought Her Off To You At Once. I Don'T Believe"--This Was Said
_Sotto Voce_--"That She Has A Particle Of Clothing On Her But That
Frock."
"Very Likely.--What Is Your Name, My Child?"
"Baubie Wishart, Mem." She Spoke In an Apologetic Tone, Glancing Down At
Her Feet, The One Off Duty Being Lowered For The Purpose Of Inspection,
Which Over, She Hoisted The Foot Again Immediately Into The Recesses Of
The Rob Roy Tartan.
"Have You A Father And Mother?"
"Yes, Mem."
"What Does Your Father Do?"
Baubie Wishart Glanced Down Again In Thought For An Instant, Then Raised
Her Eyes For The First Time Directly To Her Questioner'S Face: "He Used
To Be A Christy Man, But He Canna Be That Any Longer, Sae He Goes Wi'
Boords."
"Why Cannot He Be A Christy Man Any Longer?"
Down Came The Foot Once More, And This Time Took Up Its Position
Permanently Beside The Other: "Because Mother Drinks Awfu', An' Pawned
The Banjo For Drink." This Family History Was Related In The Most
Matter-Of-Fact, Natural Way.
"And Does Your Father Drink Too?" Asked Miss Mackenzie After A Short
Pause.
Baubie Wishart'S Eyes Wandered All Round The Room, And With One Toe She
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 79Swept Up A Little Mass Of Dust Before She Answered In a Voice Every Tone
Of Which Spoke Unwilling Truthfulness, "Just Whiles--Saturday Nichts."
"Is _He_ Kind To You?"
"Ay," Looking Up Quickly, "Excep' Just Whiles When He'S Fou--Saturday
Nichts, Ye Ken--And Then He Beats Me; But He'S Rale Kind When He'S
Sober."
"Were You Ever At School?"
"No, Mem," With A Shake Of The Head That Seemed To Convey That She Had
Something Else, And Probably Better, To Do.
"Did You Ever Hear Of God?" Asked The Lady Who Had Brought Her.
"Ay, Mem," Answered Baubie Quite Readily: "It'S A Kind Of A Bad Word I
Hear In The Streets."
"How Old Are You?" Asked Both Ladies Simultaneously.
"Thirteen Past," Replied Baubie, With A Promptness That Made Her
Listeners Smile, Suggesting As It Did The Thought That The Question Had
Been Put To Her Before, And That Baubie Knew Well The Import Of Her
Answer.
She Grew More Communicative Now. She Could Not Read, But, All The Same,
She Knew Two Songs Which She Sang In The Streets--"Before The Battle"
And "After The Battle;" And, Carried Away By The Thought Of Her Own
Powers, She Actually Began To Give Proof Of Her Assertion By Reciting
One Of Them There And Then. This, However, Was Stopped At Once. "Can
Knit Too," She Added Then.
"Who Taught You To Knit?"
"Don' Know. Wis At A Sunday-Schuil Too."
"Oh, You Were? And What Did You Learn There?"
Baubie Wishart Looked Puzzled, Consulted Her Toes In Vain, And Then
Finally Gave It Up.
"I Should Like To Do Something For Her," Observed Her First Friend: "It
Is Time This Street-Singing Came To An End."
"She Is Intelligent, Clearly," Said Miss Mackenzie, Looking Curiously At
The Child, Whose Appearance And Bearing Rather Puzzled Her. There Was
Not A Particle Of The Professional Street-Singer About Baubie Wishart,
The Child Of That Species Being Generally Clean-Washed, Or At Least
Soapy, Of Face, With Lank, Smooth-Combed And Greasy Hair; And Usually,
Too, With A Smug, Sanctimonious Air Of Meriting A Better Fate. Baubie
Wishart Presented None Of These Characteristics: Her Face Was Simply
Filthy; Her Hair Was A Red-Brown, Loosened Tangle That Reminded One
Painfully Of Oakum In Its First Stage. And She Looked As If She Deserved
A Whipping, And Defied It Too. She Was Just A Female Arab--An Arab
_Plus_ An Accomplishment--Bright, Quick And Inconsequent As A Sparrow,
And Reeking Of The Streets And Gutters, Which Had Been Her Nursery.
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 80"Yes," Continued The Good Lady, "I Must Look After Her."
"Poor Little Atom! I Suppose You Will Find Out Where The Parents Live,
And Send The School-Board Officer To Them. That Is The Usual Thing, Is
It Not? I Must Go, Miss Mackenzie. Good-Bye For To-Day. And Do Tell Me
What You Settle For Her."
Miss Mackenzie Promised, And Her Friend Took Her Departure.
"Go And Sit By The Fire, Baubie Wishart, For A Little, And Then I Shall
Be Ready To Talk To You."
Nothing Loath Apparently, Baubie Established Herself At The End Of The
Fender, And From That Coign Of Vantage Watched The On-Goings About Her
With The Stoicism Of A Red Indian. She Showed No Symptom Of Wonder At
Anything, And Listened To The Disquisitions Of Miss Mackenzie And The
Matron As To The Proper Adjustment Of Parts--"Bias," "Straights,"
"Gathers," "Fells," "Gussets" And "Seams," A Whole New Language As It
Unrolled Its Complexities Before Her--With Complacent Indifference.
At Last, All The Web Of Cotton Being Cut Up, The Time Came To Go. Miss
Mackenzie Buttoned Up Her Sealskin Coat, And Pulling On A Pair Of Warm
Gloves Beckoned Baubie, Who Rose With Alacrity: "Where Do Your Father
And Mother Live?"
"Kennedy'S Lodgings, In The Gressmarket, Mem."
"I Know The Place," Observed Miss Mackenzie, To Whom, Indeed, Most Of
These Haunts Were Familiar. "Take Me There Now, Baubie."
They Set Out Together. Baubie Trotted In Front, Turning Her Head,
Dog-Fashion, At Every Corner To See If She Were Followed. They Reached
The Grassmarket At Last, And Close To The Corner Of The West Bow Found
An Entry With The Whitewashed Inscription Above It, "Kennedy'S
Lodgings." Baubie Glanced Round To See If Her Friend Was Near, Then
Vanished Upward From Her Sight. Miss Mackenzie Kilted Her Dress And
Began The Ascent Of The Stairs, The Steps Of Which, Hollowed Out As They
Were By The Tread Of Centuries Of Human Feet, Afforded A Not Too Safe
Footing.
Arrived At The Third Floor, She Found Baubie Waiting For Her,
Breathless And Panting.
"It'S Here," She Said--"The Big Kitchen, Mem."
A Long, Narrow Passage Lay Before Them, Off Which Doors Opened On All
Sides. Precipitating Herself At One Of These Doors, Baubie Wishart, Who
Could Barely Reach The Latch, Pushed It Open, Giving Egress To A
Confusion Of Noises, Which Seemed To Float Above A Smell Of Cooking, In
Which Smell Herrings And Onions Contended For The Mastery.
It Was A Very Large Room, Low-Ceilinged, But Well Enough Lighted By A
Couple Of Windows, Which Looked Into A Close Behind. The Walls Had Been
Whitewashed Once Upon A Time, But The Whitewash Was Almost Lost To View
Under The Decorations With Which It Was Overlaid. These Consisted Of
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 81Pictures Cut Out Of The Illustrated Weekly Papers Or Milliners' Books.
All Sorts Of Subjects Were Represented: Fashion-Plates Hung Side By Side
With Popular Preachers And Statesmen, Race-Horses And Roman Catholic
Saints; Red-And White-Draped Madonnas Elbowed The "Full-Dress" Heroines
Of The Penny Weeklies. It Was A Curious Gallery, And A Good Many Of The
Works Of Art Had The Merit Of Being Antique. Generations Of Flies Had
Emblazoned Their Deeds Of Prowess On The Papers: Streaks Of
Candle-Grease Bore Witness To The Inquiring Turn Of Mind, Attracted By
The Letter-Press, Or The Artistic Proclivities Of Kennedy'S Lodgers. It
Was About Two, The Dinner-Hour Probably, Which Accounted For The
Presence Of So Many People In The Room. Most, But Not All, Seemed To Be
Of The Wandering Class. They Were Variously Employed. Some Were Sitting
On The Truckle-Beds That Ran Round The Walls; One
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