We and the World, Part II - A Book for Boys

Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of We and the World, Part II. (of II.), by Juliana Horatia Ewing This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: We and the World, Part II. (of II.) A Book for Boys Author: Juliana Horatia Ewing Release Date: April 12, 2006 [EBook #18156] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WE AND THE WORLD, PART II. *** Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Erik Bent, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net WE AND THE WORLD: A BOOK FOR BOYS. PART II. BY JULIANA HORATIA EWING. SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, London: Northumberland Avenue, W.C. Brighton: 129, North Street. New York: E. & J.B. YOUNG & CO. [Published under the direction of the General Literature Committee.] WE AND THE WORLD. CHAPTER I. “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”—Old Proverb. I have often thought that the biggest bit of good luck (and I was lucky), which befell me on my outset into the world, was that the man I sat next to in the railway carriage was not a rogue.

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• Publié par: thiwyong
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 51
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of We and the World, Part II. (of II.), by
Juliana Horatia Ewing
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: We and the World, Part II. (of II.)
A Book for Boys
Author: Juliana Horatia Ewing
Release Date: April 12, 2006 [EBook #18156]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WE AND THE WORLD, PART II. ***

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WE AND THE WORLD:

A BOOK FOR BOYS.
PAR T II.

YBJULIANA HORATIA EWING.
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE,
London: Northumberland Avenue, W.C.
Brighton: 129, North Street.
New York: E. & J.B. YOUNG & CO.

[Published under the direction of the General Literature Committee.]

WE AND THE WORLD.

CHAPTER I.

“A friend in need is a friend indeed.”—
Old Proverb
.
I have often thought that the biggest bit of good luck (and I was lucky), which
befell me on my outset into the world, was that the man I sat next to in the
railway carriage was not a rogue. I travelled third class to Liverpool for more
than one reason—it was the cheapest way, besides which I did not wish to
meet any family friends—and the man I speak of was a third-class passenger,
and he went to Liverpool too.
At the time I was puzzled to think how he came to guess that I was running
away, that I had money with me, and that I had never been to Liverpool before;
but I can well imagine now how my ignorance and anxiety must have betrayed
themselves at every station I mistook for the end of my journey, and with every
question which I put, as I flattered myself, in the careless tones of common
conversation, I really wonder I had not thought beforehand about my clothes,
which fitted very badly on the character I assumed, and the company I chose;
but it was not perhaps to be expected that I should know then, as I know now,
how conspicuous all over me must have been the absence of those outward
signs of hardship and poverty, which they who know poverty and hardship
know so well.
I wish
I
had known them, because then I should have given the man some of
my money when we parted, instead of feeling too delicate to do so. I can
remember his face too well not to know now how much he must have needed it,
and how heroic a virtue honesty must have been in him.
It did not seem to strike him as at all strange or unnatural that a lad of my age
should be seeking his own fortune, but I feel sure that he thought it was
misconduct on my part which had made me run away from home. I had no
grievance to describe which he could recognize as grievous enough to drive
me out into the world. However, I felt very glad that he saw no impossibility in
my earning my own livelihood, or even anything very unusual in my situation.
“I suppose lots of young fellows run away from home and go to sea from a
place like this?” said I, when we had reached Liverpool.
“And there’s plenty more goes that has no homes to run from,” replied he
sententiously.
Prefacing each fresh counsel with the formula, “You’ll excuse
me
,” he gave me
some excellent advice as we threaded the greasy streets, and jostled the
disreputable-looking population of the lower part of the town. General counsels
as to my conduct, and the desirableness of turning over a new leaf for “young
chaps” who had been wild and got into scrapes at home. And particular

counsels which were invaluable to me, as to changing my dress, how to hide
my money, what to turn my hand to with the quickest chance of bread-winning
in strange places, and how to keep my own affairs to myself among strange
people.
It was in the greasiest street, and among the most disreputable-looking people,
that we found the “slop-shop” where, by my friend’s orders, I was to “rig out” in
clothes befitting my new line of life. He went in first, so he did not see the qualm
that seized me on the doorstep. A revulsion so violent that it nearly made me
sick then and there; and if some one had seized me by the nape of my neck,
and landed me straightway at my desk in Uncle Henry’s office, would, I believe,
have left me tamed for life. For if this unutterable vileness of sights and sounds
and smells which hung around the dark entry of the slop shop were indeed the
world, I felt a sudden and most vehement conviction that I would willingly
renounce the world for ever. As it happened, I had not at that moment the
choice. My friend had gone in, and I dared not stay among the people outside. I
groped my way into the shop, which was so dark as well as dingy that they had
lighted a small oil-lamp just above the head of the man who served out the
slops. Even so the light that fell on him was dim and fitful, and was the means
of giving me another start in which I gasped out—“Moses Benson!”
The man turned and smiled (he had the Jew-clerk’s exact smile), and said
softly,
“Cohen, my dear, not Benson.”
And as he bent at another angle of the oil-lamp I saw that he was older than the
clerk, and dirtier; and though his coat was quite curiously like the one I had so
often cleaned, he had evidently either never met with the invaluable “scouring
drops,” or did not feel it worth while to make use of them in such a dingy hole.
One shock helped to cure the other. Come what might, I could not sneak back
now to the civil congratulations of that other Moses, and the scorn of his eye.
But I was so nervous that my fellow-traveller transacted my business for me,
and when the oil-lamp flared and I caught Moses Cohen looking at me, I
jumped as if Snuffy had come behind me. And when we got out (and it was no
easy matter to escape from the various benevolent offers of the owner of the
slop-shop), my friend said,
“You’ll excuse me telling you, but whatever you do don’t go near that there Jew
again. He’s no friend for a young chap like you.”
“I should have got your slops cheaper,” he added, “if I could have taken your
clothes in without you.”
My “slops” were a very loose suit of clothes made of much coarser material than
my own, and I suppose they were called “slops” because they fitted in such a
peculiarly sloppy manner. The whole “rig out” (it included a strong clasp-knife,
and a little leathern bag to keep my money in, which I was instructed to carry
round my neck) was provided by Mr. Cohen in exchange for the clothes I had
been wearing before, with the addition of ten shillings in cash. I dipped again
into the leathern bag to provide a meal for myself and my friend; then, by his
advice, I put a shilling and some coppers into my pocket, that I might not have
to bring out my purse in public, and with a few parting words of counsel he
wrung my hand, and we parted—he towards some place of business where he
hoped to get employment, and I in the direction of the docks, where the ships
come and go.
“I hope you
will
get work,” were my last words.

“The same to you, my lad,” was his reply, and it seemed to acknowledge me as
one of that big brotherhood of toilers who, when they want “something to do,”
want it not to pass time but to earn daily bread.

CHAPTER II.

“Deark d’on Dearka.” (“
Beg of a Beggar
.”)
Irish Proverb
.
“... From her way of speaking they also saw immediately that she
too was an Eirisher.... They must be a bonny family when they are
all at home!”—
The Life of Mansie Tailor in Dalkeith
.
“Dock” (so ran the 536th of the ‘Penny Numbers’) is “a place artificially formed
for the reception of ships, the entrance of which is generally closed by gates.
There are two kinds of docks, dry-docks and wet-docks. The former are used for
receiving ships in order to their being inspected and repaired. For this purpose
the dock must be so contrived that the water may be admitted or excluded at
pleasure, so that a vessel can be floated in when the tide is high, and that the
water may run out with the fall of the tide, or be pumped out, the closing of the
gates preventing its return. Wet-docks are formed for the purpose of keeping
vessels always afloat.... One of the chief uses of a dock is to keep a uniform
level of water, so that the business of loading and unloading ships can be
carried on without any interruption.... The first wet-dock for commercial
purposes made in this kingdom was formed in the year 1708 at Liverpool, then
a place of no importance.”
The business of loading and unloading ships can be carried on without any
interruption.
If everything that the Penny Numbers told of were as true to the life
as that, the world’s wonders (at least those of them which begin with the first
four letters of the alphabet) must be all that I had hop