19. CHAPTER XIX.
SKETCHES A GENTLEMAN OF THE LAW.
The man and the child soon left the broad and well-kept
streets, and ere long found themselves in that unmistakeable
quarter, which all cities possess—the quarter
yielded up to the poor—where thin gentlemen walking
on air at Hebrew doors, flap in the faces of wayfarers,
audibly murmuring “old clo”'—where squalid men and
women swarm—where, in a word, the tide of life pours
on through mud and over stones, unknown, nay, not so
much as dreamed of, by the pleasure parties gliding with
gay music through the sunlit ripples overhead.
Here was the abode of Joe Lacklitter, and they soon
came to the door of the low cabin. Ellie, with her
hand still in that of Mr. Sansoucy, led the way in—and
that gentleman looked round.
His eye took in at once all the details of the poor
apartment—the broken chairs, rude table, and low bed;
and then his gaze rested upon Charley, who was cowering
over a few expiring cinders—the mere mockery of a fire.
Mr. Sansoucy inwardly reflected that any respectable
scare-crow in a cornfield would indignantly have repelled
the idea of relationship to Charley. Charley, as we
have formerly said, was one integral rag from top to toe
—reduced to that condition of comparative respectability
by Ellie's needle; and his shaggy curls had not been
brushed that morning very carefully. He had one foot
suspended forlornly over the almost imaginary fire; and
his left thumb was in the right corner of his mouth, while
he hummed a mournful tune, which sounded like the death
chaunt at some goblin funeral.
Charley started back at first, upon seeing Mr. Sansoucy:
but that gentleman assumed the chair next to the
child, and winding his fingers in the straw-colored hair,
looked at him with a smile, which reassured him.
Ellie had hastened to the bed at once, and, to her great
relief, found her uncle sleeping comfortably. Her whole
heart went forth in a warm, grateful prayer, and she
turned toward the fire-place.
“Has uncle been sleeping well, Charley?” she asked,
softly.
“Mos' all day,” said the child.
Ellie uttered a sigh of relief, and bending over the fire-place,
tried to make the burnt-out embers blaze. As she
did so, a hand was laid upon her shoulder, and Mr.
Sansoucy—that eccentric Mr. Sansoucy, who thought
something of the sort might be of use—drew from his
overcoat pocket, a huge knot of resin-wood, crammed
with combustible properties. This he placed on the fire,
and then drew back, holding Ellie's hand.
The wood caught immediately, and the whole room
was filled with the light and warmth which it threw out.
“Now, Ellen, is there a store very near?” asked Mr.
Sansoucy.
“Yes, sir,” said the child.
“Get a basket, and your shawl, there, and let us go
and see if we can't find something for Uncle Joe.”
Ellie, with irrepressible tears of gratitude at this kindness,
obeyed, and the man and the child repaired to
Captain Schminky's. The cold chicken, and cheese and
biscuits, and wine, which were purchased by Mr. Sansoucy,
would appear fabulous were we to describe them;
and when the contents of the basket were taken out
before the eyes of Charley, his eyes opened to a dangerous
extent, and his tongue, visible between his teeth,
expressed the most unutterable astonishment.
Of Ellie's thanks and gratitude, why speak? Of her
eyes, brim full of that gratitude, we might say a word;
but no description, however cunningly worded, could
convey an idea of the beautiful look she gave the author
of this magic.
Mr. Sansoucy has since declared that this was perhaps
the happiest moment of his life—that the expression of
Ellie's face caused him the deepest pleasure he was able
to enjoy;—and he has often said that she resembled a
pure angel, such as Raphael Sanzio might have seen in
one of his bright reveries, and died to think he could not
place upon his canvass.
Perhaps it was because this satisfied him perfectly, and
was the payment he had selfishly expected—perhaps he
did not want to receive the thanks of Joe, or any further
looks of gratitude from Ellie—perhaps he was obliged to
return to his affairs—but after thus doing his good part,
the editor rose softly, and put on his hat.
But often are the children of men mistaken in their calculations—and
on this occasion Mr. E. Sansoucy was
most certainly destined to delay his departure for some
time yet.
If the reader will deign to cast his eyes back upon a
former page of our chronicle, he will find that among the
names exhibited as a memorandum to Mr. A. Fantish, by
the senior Fantish, on the morning of their conversation,
was the name of Lacklitter—against which Lacklitter
it appeared that Mr. Fantish, senior, had a claim for rent
unpaid—which claim had finally been put into the considerate
hands of “The Law,” and by that agency was
now about to be presented for premptory discharge.
This debt had been owed by Uncle Joe for only a very
short time, and he would probably have paid it very soon
but for his unfortunate sickness. He had told Mr. Fantish,
but a short time before, that he hoped soon to pay it;
and so had given himself no further anxiety about it, fully
confiding in his ability.
Mr. Fantish, senior, however, was much too sagacious
a gentleman to trust the poor. What he could trust was
a “levy” upon the Lacklitter effects for the small sum, and
this was the proceeding adopted by Mr. Fantish, with the
assistance of the Law and its myrmidons.
All this preamble goes to introduce a gentleman, who
knocked rudely at the door, just as Mr. Sansoucy was
about to take his departure, and who entered immediately
as one having authority, and if not sure of a welcome, at
least relying on his power.
This man—let us try an outline sketch of him—was the
representative of a class who, managing to induct themselves
into the low places of the law, throw shame and
discredit upon the administration of justice, and lower in
public estimation the many kind-hearted and amiable men
who are associated with them in a similar capacity.
Obsequious and cringing to the rich, this gentleman was
fierce and cruel to the poor; he never failed to strike a
disarmed victim, or to fawn upon and lick the hand which
could open to bestow a “consideration,” or close to inflict
a blow. It was almost amusing to witness the assiduity
with which he would court and flatter the fortunate
possessor of “much moneys;” and it was an admirable
philosophic spectacle to see him taking off his hat to a
man who could impeach him for misconduct. Consistent
in his admiration for wealth, he treated its possessors with
uniform respect; and so harmonious and faithful in coloring
was his meanness, that it impressed you with the force
of a Spartan virtue. Not, however, to analyze too
curiously a character scarcely destined to reappear in our
chronicle—which would fain busy itself with more entertaining
matters—this gentleman was one of those venomous
insects of the times, which buzz, and breed, and sting,
and are finally brushed away by that public disgust, which
is not seldom visited on the best sustained officials. As
yet, however, he had escaped such a fate, and came to
“levy” on Uncle Joe, and his effects.
The worthy gentleman entered Joe Lacklitter's dwelling
with the intention of pursuing his customary programme
of proceeding—which was based upon the value
of his time, and the contemptible nature of the material
upon which he was to work.
If he was to levy upon a rebellious debtor, he would
flourish his stick; if upon a woman, he would prepare to
thrust her coarsely aside; while if children were in the
way, he would push them out of the way with his foot,
after the manner of pigs. Catching a glimpse of the
head of the sick man on the present occasion, before he
was aware of the presence of Mr. Sansoucy, who was
concealed by the opening door, he approached the bed
with the intention of dragging away the cover and forcing
the invalid to rise.
