JENNY WREN.
One day, a great many years ago, a gentleman ran up the steps of a tallhouse in the neighborhood of St. Mary Axe.
The gentleman knocked and rang several times before any one came, but atlast an old man opened the door. "What were you up to that you did nothear me?" said Mr. Fledgeby irritably.
"I was taking the air at the top of the house, sir," said the old manmeekly, "it being a holiday. What might you please to want, sir?"
"Humph! Holiday indeed," grumbled his master, who was a toy merchantamongst other things. He then seated himself and gave the old man--a Jewand Riah by name--directions about the dressing of some dolls, and, ashe rose to go, exclaimed--
"By the bye, how _do_ you take the air? Do you stick your head out of achimney-pot?"
"No, sir, I have made a little garden on the roof."
"Let's look at it," said Mr. Fledgeby.
"Sir, I have company there," returned Riah hesitating, "but will youplease come up and see them?"
Mr. Fledgeby nodded, and the old man led the way up flight after flightof stairs, till they arrived at the house-top. Seated on a carpet, andleaning against a chimney-stack, were two girls bending over books. Somecreepers were trained round the chimney-pots, and evergreens were placedround the roof, and a few more books, a basket of gaily colored scraps,and bits of tinsel, lay near. One of the girls rose on seeing that Riahhad brought a visitor, but the other remarked, "I'm the person of thehouse downstairs, but I can't get up, whoever you are, because my backis bad, and my legs are queer."
"This is my master," said Riah speaking to the two girls, "and this," headded, turning to Mr. Fledgeby, "is Miss Jenny Wren; she lives in thishouse, and is a clever little dressmaker for little people. Her friendLizzie," continued Riah, introducing the second girl. "They are goodgirls, both, and as busy as they are good; in spare moments they come uphere, and take to book learning."
"Humph!" said Mr. Fledgeby, looking round, "Humph!" He was so muchsurprised that apparently he couldn't get beyond that word.
Lizzie, the elder of these two girls, was strong and handsome, but thelittle Jenny Wren, whom she so loved and protected, was small, anddeformed, though she had a beautiful little face, and the longest andloveliest golden hair in the world, which fell about her like a cloak ofshining curls, as though to hide the poor little misshapen figure.
The Jew Riah, as well as Lizzie, was always kind and gentle to JennyWren, who called him godfather. She had a father, who shared her poorlittle rooms, whom she called her child, for he was a bad, drunken,disreputable old man, and the poor girl had to care for him, and earnmoney to keep them both. Sometimes the two girls, Jenny helping herselfalong with a crutch, would go and walk about the fashionable streets. Asthey walked along, Jenny would tell her friend of the fancies she hadwhen sitting alone at her work. "I imagine birds till I can hear themsing," she said one day, "and flowers till I can smell them. And oh! thebeautiful children that come to me, in the early mornings! They arequite different to other children, not like me, never cold, or anxious,or tired, or hungry, never any pain; they come in numbers, in longbright slanting rows, all dressed in white, with shiny heads. 'Who isthis in pain?' they say, and they sweep around and about me, take me upin their arms, and I feel so light, and all the pain goes. I know theyare coming a long way off, by hearing them say, 'Who is this in pain?'and I answer, 'Oh my blessed children, it's poor me! have pity on me,and take me up and then the pain will go.'"
JENNIE WREN. "THE BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN THAT COME TO ME."]
Lizzie sat stroking and brushing the beautiful hair, when they were athome again, and as she kissed her good-night, a miserable old manstumbled into the room. "How's my Jenny Wren, best of children?" hemumbled, as he shuffled unsteadily towards her, but Jenny pointed hersmall finger towards him exclaiming--"Go along with you, you bad,wicked, old child, you troublesome, wicked, old thing, _I_ know whereyou have been; ain't you ashamed of yourself, you disgraceful boy?""Yes; my dear, yes," stammered the tipsy old father, tumbling into acorner. One day when Jenny was on her way home with Riah, they came on asmall crowd of people. A tipsy man had been knocked down and badlyhurt--"Let us see what it is!" said Jennie. The next moment sheexclaimed--"Oh, gentlemen--gentlemen, he is my child, he belongs to me,my poor, bad, old child!"
"Your child--belongs to you--" repeated the man who was about to liftthe helpless figure on to a stretcher. "Aye, it's old Dolls--tipsy oldDolls--" cried some one in the crowd, for it was by this name that theyknew the old man.
"He's her father, sir," said Riah in a low tone to the doctor who wasnow bending over the stretcher.
"So much the worse," answered the doctor, "for the man is dead."
Yes, "Mr. Dolls" was dead, and many were the dresses which the wearyfingers of the sorrowful little worker must make in order to pay for hishumble funeral, and buy a black frock for herself. Often the tearsrolled down on to her work. "My poor child," she said to Riah, "my poorold child, and to think I scolded him so."
"You were always a good, brave, patient girl," returned Riah, "alwaysgood and patient, however tired."
And so the poor little "person of the house" was left alone but for thefaithful affection of the kind Jew, and her friend Lizzie. Her room grewpretty comfortable, for she was in great request in her "profession" asshe called it, and there was now no one to spend and waste her earnings.But nothing could make her life otherwise than a suffering one till thehappy morning, when her child-angels visited her for the last time andcarried her away to the land where all such pain as hers is healed forevermore.
PIP'S ADVENTURE.
All that little Philip Pirrip, usually called Pip, knew about his fatherand mother, and five little brothers, was from seeing their tombstonesin the churchyard. He was taken care of by his sister, who was twentyyears older than himself. She had married a blacksmith, named JoeGargery, a kind, good man, while she, unfortunately, was a hard, sternwoman, and treated her little brother and her amiable husband with greatharshness. They lived in a marshy part of the country, about twentymiles from the sea.
One cold raw day towards evening, when Pip was about six years old, hewandered into the churchyard, and trying to make out what he could ofthe inscriptions on his family tombstones, and the darkness coming on,he felt very lonely and frightened, and began to cry.
"Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, and a man started up fromamong the graves close to him. "Keep still, you little imp, or I'll cutyour throat!"
He was a dreadful looking man, dressed in coarse grey cloth, with agreat iron on his leg. Wet, muddy and miserable, his teeth chattered inhis head, as he seized Pip by the chin.
"Oh! don't cut my throat, sir," cried Pip, in terror.
"Tell us your name!" said the man. "Quick!"
"Pip, sir."
"Once more," said the man, staring at him. "Give it mouth."
"Pip. Pip, sir."
"Show us where you live," said the man. "Point out the place."
Pip showed him the village, about a mile or more from the church.
The man looked at him for a moment, and then turned him upside down andemptied his pockets. He found nothing in them but a piece of bread,which he ate ravenously.
"Now lookee here," said the man. "Where's your mother?"
"There, sir," said Pip.
At this the man started to run away, but stopped and looked over hisshoulder.
"There, sir," explained Pip, showing him the tombstone.
"Oh, and is that your father along of your mother?"
"Yes, sir," said Pip.
"Ha!" muttered the man, "then who d'ye live with--supposin' you'rekindly let to live, which I han't made up my mind about?"
"My sister, sir, Mrs. Joe Gargery, wife of Joe Gargery, the blacksmith,sir."
"Blacksmith, eh?" said the man, and looked down at his leg. Then heseized the trembling little boy by both arms, and glaring down at him,he said,--
"Now lookee here, the question being whether you're to be le
t tolive--You know what a file is?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you know what wittles is?"
"Yes, sir."
"You get me a file, and you get me wittles--you bring 'em both to me."All this time he was tilting poor Pip backwards till he was dreadfullyfrightened and giddy.
"You bring me, to-morrow morning early, that file and them wittles--Youdo it, and you never dare to say a word or dare to make a signconcerning your having seen such a person as me, or any person sumever,and you shall be let to live." Then he let him go, saying--"You rememberwhat you've undertook, and you get home."
Pip ran home without stopping. Joe was sitting in the chimney corner,and told him Mrs. Joe had been out to look for him, and taken Ticklerwith her. Tickler was a cane, and Pip was rather depressed by this pieceof news.
Mrs. Joe came in almost directly, and after having given Pip a taste ofTickler, she sat down to prepare the tea, and cutting a huge slice ofbread and butter, she gave half of it to Joe and half to Pip. Pipmanaged, after some time, to slip his down the leg of his trousers, andJoe, thinking he had swallowed it, was dreadfully alarmed and begged himnot to bolt his food like that. "Pip, old chap, you'll do yourself amischief,--it'll stick somewhere, you can't have chewed it, Pip. Youknow, Pip, you and me is always friends, and I'd be the last to tellupon you at any time, but such a--such a most uncommon bolt as that."
PIP AND THE CONVICT. HALF DEAD WITH COLD AND HUNGER.]
"Been bolting his food, has he?" cried Mrs. Joe.
"You know, old chap," said Joe, "I bolted myself when I was yourage--frequent--and as a boy I've been among many bolters; but I neversee your bolting equal yet, Pip, and it's a mercy you ain't bolteddead."
Poor Pip passed a wretched night, thinking of the dreadful promise hehad made, and as soon as it was beginning to get light outside he got upand crept downstairs.
As quickly as he could he took some bread, some cheese, about half a jarof mince-meat he tied up in a handkerchief, with the slice of bread andbutter, some brandy from a stone bottle, a meat bone with very little onit, and a pork pie, which he found on an upper shelf. Then he got a filefrom among Joe's tools, and ran for the marshes.
Pip found the man waiting for him, half dead with cold and hunger, andhe ate the food in such a ravenous way that Pip, in spite of his terror,was quite pitiful over him, and said, "I am glad you enjoy it."
"Thankee, my boy, I do."
Pip watched him trying to file the iron off his leg, and then, beingafraid of stopping longer away from home, he ran off.
Pip passed a wretched morning expecting every moment that thedisappearance of the pie would be found out. But Mrs. Joe was too muchtaken up with preparing the dinner, for they were expecting visitors.
Just at the end of the dinner Pip thought his time had come to be foundout, for his sister said graciously to her guests--
"You must taste a most delightful and delicious present I have had. It'sa pie, a savory pork pie."
Pip could bear it no longer, and ran for the door, and there ran headforemost into a party of soldiers with their muskets, one of whom heldout a pair of handcuffs to him saying--"Here you are, look sharp, comeon." But they had not come for him, they only wanted Joe to mend thehandcuffs, for they were on the search for two convicts who had escapedand were somewhere hid in the marshes. This turned the attention of Mrs.Joe from the disappearance of the pie without which she had come back,in great astonishment. When the handcuffs were mended the soldiers wentoff, accompanied by Joe and one of the visitors, and Joe took Pip andcarried him on his back.
Pip whispered, "I hope, Joe, we shan't find them," and Joe answered "I'dgive a shilling if they had cut and run, Pip."
But the soldiers soon caught them, and one was Pip's miserableacquaintance, and once when the man looked at Pip, the child shook hishead to try and let him know he had said nothing.
But the convict, without looking at anyone, told the Sergeant he wantedto say something to prevent other people being under suspicion, and saidhe had taken some "wittles" from the blacksmith's. "It was some brokenwittles, that's what it was, and a dram of liquor, and a pie."
"Have you happened to miss such an article as a pie, blacksmith?"enquired the Sergeant.
"My wife did, at the very moment when you came in."
"So," said the convict, looking at Joe, "you're the blacksmith, are you?Then I'm sorry to say, I've eat your pie."
"God knows you're welcome to it," said Joe. "We don't know what you havedone, but we wouldn't have you starved to death for it, poor miserablefellow creature. Would us, Pip?"
Then the boat came, and the convicts were taken back to prison, and Joecarried Pip home.
Some years after, some mysterious friend sent money for Pip to beeducated and brought up as a gentleman, but it was only when Pip wasquite grown up that he discovered this mysterious friend was thewretched convict who had frightened him so dreadfully that cold, darkChristmas Eve.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Text in italics is indicated with underscores: _italics_.
Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.
Punctuation has been corrected without note.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows: Page 7: Fren changed to Fern Page 25: Joe changed to Jo Page 31: DORRITT changed to DORRIT Page 34: needlwork changed to needlework Page 40: distresed changed to distressed Page 41: grandfaather changed to grandfather Page 56: hugh changed to huge
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