University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

At the conclusion of one of those little romances, hardly to be dignified
by the name of novels, which, during the past year, we have thrown off
from the press, we promised one day a continuation. In that romance,
which bore the title of `Jemmy Daily,' we took juvenile subjects, and
brought them forward to the verge of manhood, leaving them just as they
were about entering into the whirl of life. The numerous applications from
`little folk,' that we have since been honored with, to redeem our promise to
write a sequel, we cannot well resist any longer; and hereby prepare to
make good our pledge. We shall begin our story by introducing, for the
benefit of those who have not seen `Jemmy Daily,' the concluding paragraph
of that work. It is as follows:

`It is now a period of nine years since Jemmy Daily was introduced to
his readers. He is now within a few weeks of being twenty-one, and by
his talents, faithfulness, and industrious devotion to business, from being the
youngest, he has risen to be the head clerk of Mr. Weldon's commercial
house. When he comes of age, it is rumored that Mr. Weldon will take
him into copartnership, which event, we have no doubt, all of our readers
would be very much pleased to learn. Grace Weldon will also be gratified,
for she is a great friend of our hero's, and is become a very beautiful and
happy-hearted girl of seventeen. But the blue-eyed Frederica we think
would rejoice most. She is now a graceful, blue-eyed maiden of eighteen
years, and chief-assistant in Mrs. Daily's fashionable millinery and bonnet-making
establishment on Washington street, into which this kind lady received
her after the deaths of the old blind German basket-maker, her father,
and little faithful Bricket.

`But it is not yet decided by the gossips, who seem to foreknow all events
matrimonial, and can see a love-match with half an eye, whether our hero is
likely to address Frederica or Grace; for he is tall, manly and handsome,
with a frank, generous expression of countenance, and a pure character, and
is worthy of any maiden's love and confidence. We have our own opinion
of the issue! Time will also decide; but we wish he would wed Frederica.
She not only is worthy of him, but affectionately loves him.

`As to Jack Brigs, the juvenile villain, we have no good to say of him!
He has spent two years in the House of Correction, and three years in the

State's Prison, since we lost sight of him; and is now, at twenty-three years
of age, got to be the greatest thief and most skilful burglar in Boston, and
will, doubtless, one day get his desert at a rope's end.

`We have left full romance behind for another Tale. Shall we have “a
sequel” one day to Jemmy Daily, and see if his manhood fulfils the promises
of his boyhood? If, through the perusal of this Tale, one poor boy is
excited to honorable ambition; is led to love honesty and to hate vice; to prefer
a course of truth and integrity to one of falsehood and dishonesty; if, by
means of it, one intemperate husband and father is reclaimed; or one suffering
wife encouraged and strengthened, our object will have been effected,
and our labors abundantly and undeservedly rewarded.'

Thus ends the concluding paragraph of `Jemmy Daily.' We now proceed
to our story.

If the reader is at all acquainted with that region which lies on the eastern
declivity of Fort Hill, towards Broad street, he will remember having
seen a precipitous passage of stairs, descending from a court leading from
one of the narrow streets that cross the hill-side, down to the level of Broad
street, with which the stairs communicate by a narrow, dingy-looking passage.
This steep and dark flight, which is shut in closely by the tenements
of poverty, if not of crime, from its numerous steps is known as the `Hundred
Stairs,' or more commonly, by those living about it, as the `Devil's
Ladder.' It affords a short, but, in wet or slippery weather, from its steepness
and great height, a perilous thoroughfare between the streets on the
hill-side and Broad street and the docks.

It was about seven o'clock on a December night, a few months after the
point of time at which we have terminated the novel of Jemmy Daily, that
a person in a coarse, shaggy blouse, which was closely buttoned to his chin,
and a large, rough, fox-skin cap, drawn closely over his ears and eyes, stopped
at the head of the stairs. He had just come down the hill, crossing the
square by the flag-staff, to reach the street in which he was. From his dress
and outside appearance, one could not tell whether he was a gentleman or a
low fellow; but there was in his air and step something that betrayed that
he was, at least, a person `of fashion,' to use the term as one of mere distinction.
A lamp half dimmed with snow, for a wintry storm was wildly
sweeping through the streets, cast a faint light around him, and as he for a
moment raised his head a little, he exhibited the lower portion of a very
fine face. He was of good height, well formed, with great breadth of chest,
and had a youthful and imperious air.

He stood at the top of the stairs and gazed down the dark, cavernous avenne
beneath him, the shape of which, in the darkness, was only apparent
by the snow lying upon the bottom, defining its shape and direction. At its
outlet in Broad street, he could see the faint glow of light, but the passage
itself was dark and dangerous to the eye. Early as the hour was, few persons
were stirring, the storm driving all honest citizens to their fire-places.
On either side of the steep `wynd' which yawned below him, rose high
above him the dark brick walls of the buildings that crowded upon it. For
part of the way along the sides of the passage, the wall was a plain brick
surface, but lower down, on the right, were visible the doors and windows
of tenements. Also through the whole length of the passage were entrances
to the dwellings either of poverty or crime. In some of its details, this
place has been changed and modified since the time of which we are now
writing, but in its main features it is still as it was then.

The man placed his hand against the wall of the house to sustain himself,
and slowly and carefully began to descend the precipitous flight.

`Confound this break-neck hole!' he exclaimed, as his foot slipped upon
the snow, and he saved himself from plunging headlong below by catching
at and firmly grasping one of the planks of the stairs. `If Jack doesn't
find better lodgings I will have nothing more to do with him. It is as much
as a man's life is worth to venture down here such a night as this. Well!
here I am, at the bottom, with whole limbs!' he cried, as he stood at the
bottom of the steps, and cast his eyes upwards to the height from which he
had so perilously reached the spot on which he was. `Jack has policy, I
see, in having his quarters here. A police officer would find hard handling
upon this Devil's Ladder, if he came after him! Now for my man!'

Close by his side, at the foot of the flight, was a narrow door in the brick
wall. There was a single window, a little higher up, near it; it was simply
a small door, that had once been a window, which it resembled still, deep set
in the brick wall. Across it was an iron bar, and to all appearance it was
firmly locked and barred from without, for at one end of the bar hung a
padlock.

At this door the man gave a single rap with the end of a stout stick he
carried. He waited a moment, and a deep voice from within demanded who
was there.

`Carl,' answered the visiter.

A noise of the turning of a key was heard, and then the person again
spoke.

`I have loosened the bolt; apply your catch-key. Are you alone?'

`Alone!' he answered. And drawing off his furred glove, he drew from
his breast-pocket a curiously-shaped key, resembling a long tube with a cross
cut into the end of it, and applying it to the iron head of a pin at one extremity
of the bar, he drew it out, when the bar, which seemed to have
been imbedded in the stone frame of the door, flew round upon its centre,
working or traversing like the balance needle of a compass, and the door
swung open.

`You have secured the entrance to your den, Brigs, with a good deal of
caution.'

`I have to do it,' answered the man. `There ant a person wot goes by
here would ever think any human was livin' here. It looks as tight and
lock-up as if it had been fastened up by the boss and he'd taken the keys
home in his pocket! But come in, sir. The snow driving in is enough to
put a fellow's blinkers out!'

The speaker was in the dark; and as the stranger did not require urging
to get out of the blasts that swept so fiercely by, he instantly obeyed him,
and the door was shut by the man who had admitted him.

`It is as dark as a tomb here, Jack!'

`I'll show you a light in a moment. I only want to swing the bar and
bolt round outside, to give it that lock-up look to cheat the Pollies!'

`They don't suspect you here, eh, Jack?'

`No. I am safe here, thanks to my wits and caution,' answered the man
as he turned the key. `Now, sir, give me your hand!'

`Not so fast, I can't see any thing, Jack!'

`You will see soon, sir. There we are, safe!' he added, as he opened a
door at the extremity of a short passage, across which they had come, and
conducted him into a low, semi-subterranean apartment, about twelve feet

square. It contained a small stove, a couple of straw bottom chairs, a rude bed,
and a red pine table, on which stood the remains of a coarse supper, served in
rich porcelain and earthen dishes, oddly met together, with the addition of a
silver fork, pewter spoon, and a silver cream-pot, engraved with the arms of
some family. The walls of the gloomy apartment were damp and dingy,
the paper with which the plastering had once been covered, being torn off
from the ceiling to the floor in wide strips. The funnel of the little square
stove ran into the wide, broken chimney, across which was a rough board,
which served as a mouth-piece. Over it was a small cup-board, the door of
which was half open, displaying a shelf containing bags, and leathern sacks
of tools, and other things appertaining to the house-breaker's profession.
Opposite the fire-place was another door, which contained various disguises,
from a beggar to a gentleman, including sailors', farmers', stage-drivers', and
truckmen's costumes, besides the glazed caps, coats, and rattles of watchmen.

`There is a seat, Mr. Ellery,' said the occupant of this apartment.

`Thank you, Brigs. I will sit for a moment,' answered the visiter, taking
a chair near the table, at the same time throwing back his fur cap, and opening
his collar and turning it aside from his chin. As he did so the gaze of the
other was fixed closely upon his features, which were now distinctly visible.
His face was handsome, yet slightly flushed, evidently by indulgence in a
dissolute life. He was a young man, about four-and-twenty, and had the
air of a person of refinement and education. Beneath his shaggy blouse
his dress, such as was visible, was rich and fashionable. His whiskers were
nicely arranged, and his dark brown hair, escaping from his cap, curled upon
his brow, and fell in masses about his neck. His eyes were a clear hazel,
full and sparkling; but his mouth, though very finely shaped, wore an expression
of pride and imperiousness, which showed that these feelings might
often govern his character and conduct, to the destruction of all moral principle.
But for this forbidding expression, which lingered upon his lip, his
countenance would have been termed prepossessing, as well as handsome.
It was evident that one possessing such a face as his, could with facility disguise
his real character, and appear in two distinct personifications before
the world.

His companion was a person of a very different outside. He was a thickset,
strong-built young man, about two-and-twenty, in a sailor's check shirt
and jacket, with a flashy crimson vest, and tweed pantaloons, with enormous
plaids in the figure. His feet were encased in long-toed, fashionable boots,
much too small for him; and upon his coarse, dark hands sparkled no less
than four heavy stone rings. In his ears hung little gold wire ear-rings, and
on each cheek his side-locks, which were fiery red, were carefully curled
into long, lady-like ringlets; while behind his head, his hair was closely
shaven to his bull-neck, giving it the appearance supposed to belong peculiarly
to those water-dogs upon whom their masters' tastes inflict this style of
tonsure.

The face of this man deserves a paragraph by itself for its portrait. He
was originally of a complexion that was very white; but freckles had so
taken possession of the skin of his face, that he was now the complexion of
the hue of freckles, from his forehead to his chin. His eye-brows were
sandy, and very thick, his eyes small, and of a blueish gray or ashes color,
sharp, active, restless, suspicious, full of mistrust and savage deliberation.
His nose turned up to a point, and his lips were large and full, as if made

of leather, and had an expression grossly sensual and depraved. His chin
was covered with a few straggling hairs, which, extending to his cheeks,
were doubtless intended to supply the place of whiskers. The shape of this
face was square and Dutch-like, and its permanent expression that of ignorance
and viciousness combined. In a word, Jack Brigs had not very greatly
improved his profile since we saw him last, as a boy, conspiring with
`Big Sam Burney and Bill,' to attack Jemmy Daily in Theatre Alley; in
which enterprise, these worthies, it will be remembered, were very roughly
handled.

`Did you find me easy, Mr. Ellery?' asked Jack, after he had surveyed
his features a few moments, as if trying to divine from them his motive in
visiting him on such a night.

`Yes, Jack. It is not very difficult to find the Devil's Ladder. And besides,
you gave me such directions that I could not well miss you. But I
was staggered a little on seeing that the door was so barred up!'

`That is my contrivance, you see, and I take pride in it! Big Sam came
here with me last night, and when he saw my fixins he said as how he'd
never see any thing equal to it! He said unless I was seen to go in, nobody'd
ever suspect this was more than an old under-ground room filled
with barrels, or such lumber, and locked up!'

`No doubt you have to keep pretty close, eh?'

`Yes, since my last clearance from the Charlestown jug. I said when I
was comin' out, I would find quarters where the devil couldn't suspect my
being. I knew if I went about my old haunts in Ann street and Richmond,
that Clapp would have his eye on me before I'd got to work, and the first
thing any body did, I'd be nabbed on suspicion!'

`It's enough for you to be taken up for your own work, eh, Jack?'

`It is, I assure you. So, as I knew I should have eyes on me, I resolves
to come in this part of the town, where I was a stranger.'

`How came you to pitch on such a break-neck hole as this? Confound
your stairs! I came within an ace of pitching from the top to the bottom!'

`You might have come round through the alley in Broad street, but the
stairs is nearer; and besides, it looks more suspicious comin' in that way.
The Pollies is al'ays skulking about on Broad street, but never comes up on
the hill-side.'

`How did you find this place?'

`Why, Blucher Bill, as they call him, told me about it in prison. He said
he had once boarded in the house above, and that they kept this for a hiding
hole whenever any suspicious noses were poking round. But when I came
here, I found that another set of folks had the rooms above, and that this
wasn't used 'cept as a place to keep old lumber in, by the landlord. So I
takes my dark night and bag of tools, and in two hours, between eleven and
one o'clock, made an entrance, cutting off the bars so nicely that nobody
could tell the place. I had a dark lantern with me, and after I got in I
sprung it. I found lots of old barrels, boards, and junk inside, and getting
over it, I came to this room, that used to be a sort of office years ago, when
this building was a store-house. I found every thing as quiet and snug as a
pocket, and set to work to settle myself here. I placed a double row of
barrels before the door, as they were when I entered, but made one of them
to move in and out easily, so as to be taken away or put up at any moment.
Behind this I piled lumber, leaving a passage to the door of this room, yet
arranging the boards so that I could drop them at any moment. So you see

that all I have to do, if I am broken in upon, is to close my tiers of barrels,
and let fall my lumber behind them, and no one would ever suspect any
body to be beyond. But I am not left without a chance of escape. The
stairs that lead up to the scuttle into the tenement above, are still there, and I
have filed off the nails that secured it, so that at any moment I can lift it,
and ascend into the room above. That room I have been into, pretending to
be a carpenter sent there by the landlord to do a job, and find it is used
for a store-room; so that if I enter it I can escape by its window. So, you
see, I am not penned up!'

`You are certainly very nicely fixed, Jack. But it is a confounded hole!
I wonder that you can be content here!' As the young man spoke he
glanced around him with a look of disgust.