The Cock and Trumpet.
There are certain duties we perform of which we are scarcely aware, andwhich consist in a species of strolling supervision among houses, which,though not devoted to resetting, are often yet receptacles of stolengoods, through a means of the residence there of women of the loweststratum of vice and profligacy. Though we have no charge against thehouse at the time, and no suspicion that it contains stolen property, weclaim the privilege of going through it on the ostensible pretence thatwe have in view a particular object of recovery. I have generally, Ithink, been fonder of these _pleasant_ strolls than my brethren, perhapsfor the reason that on some occasions I have been fortunate in what maybe called chance waifs. Among these there was at the period I allude to,a well-known house, known as the Cock and Trumpet, for the reason that abantam was represented on the sign as blowing the clarion of war in theshape of a huge French horn--significant no doubt of the crowing of theGallic cockerel. It was a favourite of mine--the more by token that Ihad several times brought off rather wonderful things. On one occasionI issued triumphantly with a Dunlop cheese weighing thirty pounds, onanother with a dozen of Italian sausages, and on another with two livegeese.
It was a feature of the portly landlady that she never knew (not she)that such things were in the house. "Some of thae rattling deevils o'hizzies had done it. The glaikit limmers, will they no be content wi'their ain game, but maun turn common thieves?" Then her surprise wasjust as like the real astonishment as veritable wonder itself. "And gotye that in _my_ house, Mr M'Levy? Whaur in a' the earth did it comefrae? and wha brought it to the Cock and Trumpet? I wish I kent thegillet."
But the sound of _her_ trumpet was changed one morning after she hadtaken to herself a certain Mr Alexander Dewar to be lord of her, herestablishment, and the crowing bantam. Sandy, who was himself a greatthief, had thus risen in the sliding scale. It is not often that thievesrise to be the head of an establishment with a dozen of beds, thoughwithout even a fir table by way of ordinary; but so true is the title ofmy book, that Sandy's slide upwards was just the cause of a returndownwards with accelerated velocity.
One morning I happened to be earlier on my rounds than usual, and thoughhouses like the Cock and Trumpet do their business during night, and aretherefore late openers, I found the door open.
Something more than ordinary, I said to myself. The bantam must havebeen roused by some cock that has seen the morning's light sooner thanit reaches the deep recesses of that wynd.
And going straight in, and passing through a room of sleeping beautiesreposing blissfully amidst a chorus of snorts, I came to the bed-room ofthe new master himself. The mistress was enjoying in bed the repose dueto her midnight and morning labours, snoring as deep as a woman of hersize and suction could do, and beside her, in a chair, sat Sandy himselfplucking lustily at fowls. He had finished nine hens, and was busy withthe last of nine ducks. No wonder that the bantam had crown so early.
"What a fine show of poultry, Sandy, man," said I. "Where got you somany hens and ducks?"
"A man has surely a right to what comes into his ain trap," replied therogue, as unmoved as one of the dead hens. "They flew in at the window."
And he proceeded with his operation of plucking.
My voice had in the meantime awakened his helpmate.
"Whaur can the hens hae come frae?" snorted the jolly woman. "Some o'the hizzies, nae doot."
"No, mistress," said I; "they flew in at the window."
"Weel, maybe they did."
"Just in the way the Bologna sausages did," said I.
"Na, it was the jade Bess Brown did that job, but I'm an innocentwoman. Was I no sleeping when ye cam in? Does a sleeping woman catchhens in her sleep as she does flees in her mooth?"
"Well," said I, turning to Sandy, "you're the man."
"The Lord's will be dune," said the wife, in a tone quite at variancewith her old system of asserting her innocence, (Sandy, her "husband,"being bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh). "If Sandy has disgracedthe house I made him master o', ay, and a gentleman to boot, he maunjust dree the dregs."
Nor was I much surprised at this turn, for I had heard that she waslosing conceit of Sandy, and had been repenting that she had raised himto the rank of a gentleman as well as lord of the Cock and Trumpet. Herewas a good opportunity for getting quit of him, and the shrewd Jezebelsaw her advantage.
"Now, Sandy," said I again to the cool rogue, still occupied with hiswork, and who had now arrived at the head feathers of the last duck,which head feathers (though generally left by poultry pluckers) Iobserved he had carefully taken from every victim: "lay down the duckand get a pillow-slip."
"Here's ane," cried his wife on the instant, as she began to undo thestrings of her head cushion, ay, even that which had been frequentlypressed by the head of her lord. "There," she added, as she threw thearticle out of the bed.
"Put these feathers into that bag," said I; "every feather, and I'llwait till I see the last put in."
"Ye'll find that a kittle job, Mr M'Levy. A fleeing feather's no easilycatched."
"Weel," said Sandy, as he threw a wrathful glance at the mistress of hisaffection, now about to be lost to him, a loss of fifteen stones ofsolid beef--"I'll do your bidding," and then relaxing into achuckle--"but will you tell me hoo the devil ony judge or jury can tell,after a' these feathers are mixed, which belongs to a duke, and which toa hen, and which to ae duke, and no to anither, and which to ae hen, andno to its neeghbour; and then after a' that, to whom the hens or thedukes belang? Ye see there's no a head feather left."
I saw in a moment that the cunning rogue had caught me, and that I mightbe in for an official scrape. But I had gone too far to recede, and Ihad got out of as great a difficulty before. "Put in the feathersquick," said I.
"The lasses will help him," cried the landlady, still bent on favouringthe apprehension of Sandy; and quickly a husky voice sounded through thehouse, reaching, as it was intended, the hall of the sleepingbeauties--"Kate Semple, Jessie Lumsdaine, Flora Macdonald."
And straightway came rushing from their beds two or three of her"children," as she used to call them. I need not describe the conditionthey were in, nor their swollen, sleepless eyes, their dishevelled hair,and their wondering looks, as they found their dreams probably changedfrom a place where there was roasting to a place of plucking.
"Help Sandy to put thae feathers in that pillow-slip, for the deil aneo' them will remain to tak' away the credit o' my house."
And thereupon the girls began the work, sprawling on their hands andknees, and putting in handful by handful as Sandy held open the mouth ofthe slip. The job was a difficult one, and the scene sufficientlypicturesque to occupy my attention, diverted as it sometimes was by myanticipated difficulty in identifying the corpses; nor was it without abrush that they could accomplish the entire clearance I insisted on.Even the flying feathers I urged my nymphs to secure, an operation whichthey undertook with agility, screaming and laughing in the midst oftheir work with all that wild levity and recklessness for which theirtribe is remarkable.
"Here," cried Mrs Dewar, "there's some on my bed." And commencing topick them up, "Nae man shall say that a stown feather was left in myhouse."
A degree of refinement in this honest woman's purity which produced asmile from me, in spite of the difficulties of a case of evidence whichpromised me some trouble. Nor were my fears unreasonable. Our honour isat stake in such matters, and then we require to keep in view that whilelittle good may result from punishing so determined and hardened a rogueas Sandy Dewar, the evil consequences of an acquittal are serious. Itemboldens the culprit himself, and affords a triumph to the wholefraternity.
"And now, Sandy," said I, when there was scarcely a feather to be seen,"you'll bind all the legs of the corpses together."
A command which was obeyed slowly and reluctantly.
"Throw them over your back," continued I, "and the bag will go overall."
Having got my man laden with his dead
spoil, "And now we'll march to theOffice," said I.
"And fareweel, Sandy," cried a voice from the bed; "we'll maybe neversee ane anither again. May the Lord prosper ye and mend ye!"
And finding matters in this favourable state, as I conceived, I bent myhead over the lump of innocence:--
"Now, Mrs Dewar," whispered I, "just tell me how Sandy came by the ducksand hens."
"Aweel," said she in return, disappointing my hopes of an admission,"I'll say naething against my lawfu' husband. If the dukes and hensdidna flee in at the window, it's now dead certain they'll no flee ootat the door."
These were the last words of the sonsy landlady, and I marched Sandy,with his burden, through an admiring crowd to the Office, where, havinglocked him up, I began to examine the dead bodies. The heads, as I havesaid, had been all taken care of, not a feather left upon one of them.Every corpse was so provokingly like another, that I could see no way ofproving that they belonged to any one; and if, as was likely, Sandy hadnot been observed by any person about the place, I had no evidence torest on but the equivocal words of Mrs Dewar, which pointed out noproprietor. I was in difficulty, but my difficulty was a stimulant aswell; and there in the Office I sat, I know not how long, making my_post mortem_ examination with all the assiduity of a doctor. My honourwas concerned. The bantam would crow if my hens were not identified; butoh the inestimable virtue of perseverance! Were I to recount what thispower has yielded me, I would read a lesson to the sluggard better thanany imparted by Solomon. I had made my discoveries, and was the moresatisfied with the result, as, during all the time I had been engaged inthe examination of my eighteen dead bodies, I had become the theme ofmuch good-humoured laughter among my compeers, joined in by theSuperintendent and Lieutenant themselves.
A short time afterwards, there came in a charge from Mr Beaton, HopePark, Meadows, to the effect that nine ducks had been stolen from hispremises on the previous night; and after the lapse of another hour, asecond charge, involving the nine hens, came from Mr Renton of Hope ParkEnd. To these places I repaired, and saw the servants, who could, ofcourse, have had no difficulty about the identity of their favourites,fed and tended by them every morning, and relieved by them of thesucculent treasure they dropt so industriously for the morning's meal,provided the feathers remained, but they all laughed at the idea ofknowing their lamented favourites with bare bodies. As to the thief, noone could say that he was seen, or even heard. Sandy had done his workwell. I then got the lasses to dress themselves, and accompany me to theOffice, where we soon arrived; the bodies were all lying in the state inwhich I left them. The sight to the girls was nothing less thanstriking. They held up their hands, and really looked pitiful, for nodoubt they had had an affection for the creatures; and the strongest ofus, I suspect, have some feelings thus lowly, but not the lesssympathetically directed, which even the savoury morsel of a fedfavourite cannot altogether dissipate. My pig is a better pig thanyours; but I'd rather eat yours, if you will eat mine.
So the girls turned over and over the bodies, examining them with allthe minuteness in their power. Jenny declared it impossible, and Helenwas in despair; Peggy thought she observed something, and Barbaradeclared it to be nothing. I watched them with some amusement, nor lessthe men in the Office. They stood around us laughing heartily at theremarks of the investigators, running up a joke to a climax, and thenpursuing another, not always at the sole expense of the lasses, whocould retort cleverly, impeaching their mockers as utterly unable todistinguish a male from a female fowl. At the long run, a happy thoughtstruck Jenny.
"But where's the 'pensioner?'" cried she.
"Ay, the 'pensioner,'" responded her neighbour Nelly.
"Had he a spliced leg?" inquired I.
"Yes," replied the first, "a dog broke it, and Nelly and I bound it upwith two thin pieces of wood and a string."
"Ay, and he got aye the best handful of barley," rejoined Nelly; "butthe leg of the 'pensioner' was cured a month ago, and the bandageremoved."
"Is that the 'pensioner?'" said I, as I shewed the leg of one which Ihad observed in the forenoon as having on it the appearance of ahealed-up sore.
"Ay, just the creature," they both exclaimed. "It was the right leg, andyou'll see yet the marks of the string."
The discovery was followed by the merriment of the men, who assertedthat some one or other of the girls must have had a pensioner for alover, with the designation of whom the drake had been honoured; but thegirls indignantly denied the charge, declaring that they could not fancya man pensioner, however much they might love a drake one.
"Besides," added Jenny, cleverly, "he was our pensioner, not theQueen's."
"So much for the ducks," said I; "and now for the hens and cocks; wasthere no pensioner among them?"
"No," cried Barbara, "but there was the 'corporal.'"
"Any mark beyond the coat?" inquired I.
"Ay," cried Peggy, "he was stone-blind in the right eye; he lost hissight in a battle with Mr Grant's cock, and never recovered his eyesightagain. When toying with his wives, he turned aye round to the leftside."
"Yes," struck in Betty; "before his misfortune, he was the king of a'the cocks in the Meadows."
"Is that the blind 'corporal?'" said I.
"The very creature," cried Barbara, as she examined the white orb of theanimal which I had detected in the morning; "but oh," she added, "I amvexed to see him in that condition!"
And really I thought I could see some little humidity about the blue eyeof the good-natured girl.
"That's the lass for a man," thought I. "Give me a qualm of pity in awoman even for a bird, and I tell you you may make sure of a good wife."
I once knew--permit me to go off the scene a little--a young woman wholived in Great King Street. She was a great belle, and admired for akind of beauty not uncommon among our servants. A gentleman in town,whose name I could mention, saw her one day, as she was carrying homesome books from the library in Dundas Street. He was smitten--followedher--spoke to her--and entertained the idea of making her his wife,whereby she would have become a lady. Time passed; and, in the meantime,he was informed that the pretty Margaret one night, when in the bed-roomflat of the house, pitched the cat, which had offended her in hercleanly notions, out of the window. It was a bitter cold night, and thefrost was intense. In the morning the cat was found spiked on therailing, and frozen stiff. This was enough for our lover, and he forsookher. She afterwards fell, became a street-walker, and died neglected anduncared for in the Infirmary. I suspect the little pearl in Barbara'seye for the blind corporal was worth all the beauty in the face andperson of the once admired but forsaken Margaret.
My story of the ducks and hens concludes with this investigation; forthough the scene was renewed before the Sheriff, it was not so rich asthat which took place among ourselves. Sandy got sixty days'imprisonment for the ducks, and six months for the hens, as a kind ofsecond offence; and Luckie Dewar could afford a few tears (common tocertain amphibious animals on the banks of the Nile) over themisfortunes of Sandy Dewar, who had thus fallen from being master of theCock and Trumpet to being the occupant of a prison. Such is theascending and descending scale of profligate life.