The Widow's Last Shilling.

  Do you know any one within the circle of your experience who is utterlyrenounced to himself--what is called a money-grub or hunks, eternallyyearning for money, so as to deserve the address of Burns: "Fie uponyou, coward man, that you should be the slave o't?" If there's any tearabout that man's eye, depend upon't it's only a thinnish rheum; and asfor anything like a response in the ear to the cry of pity, the drumwill as soon crack at the singing of a psalm. Such a character is theresult of an accumulation of _hardnesses_, increasing in intensity withhis advancing years. We don't wonder so much at the hunks as hate him.But in regard to the brick-moulded thief, who seldom comes within therange of ordinary observation, you are apt to think that he is not sohard-hearted after all. You give him some credit for generosity,--nay,when he is picking your pocket, you lay to his charge more necessitythan will. Yet there never was a harder-hearted wretch than a regularthief. He is as destitute of pity as of honesty, and will steal asreadily the shilling from under the poorhouse pensioner's pillow as thering from the finger of my lady. Even after "feeding time" he is stillrapacious, and if he ever gives away, it is from recklessness, neverfrom benevolence.

  I have had many cases that go to prove these remarks, and one occurs tome worthy of recital, from the personal proximity into which I wasbrought to the condition of the hearts of the actors.

  In the eddies at the bottoms of stairs leading to pawn-shops, adetective has often a chance for promising rises to his phantom minnow.In 1845, somewhere in August, I chanced to be coming up the stairleading from the Market to Milne Square. Just as I was arriving at thepassage out, two women were coming down from the Equitable LoanCompany's Office; and as they were engaged in conversation, I stood afew steps down where I couldn't be seen, and heard what they were sayingto each other. The voices were those of a young brisk wench and an agedwoman, with that kind of wail in her speech which sometimes comes to bea bad habit, but which at least shews that the heart is not so easy asit might be.

  "I got five shillings on a plaid worth five pounds," said the younger."What did he give you on the blankets?"

  "No less than I sought," replied the elder, "ten shillings. It will justpay my landlord, and leave a shilling over; but it's a sore heart to meto pawn, for I never was used to it; yet better pawn than be poinded."

  "And who will poind you?"

  "My landlord for the rent, woman; ay, a rich man with thousands, whofeeds his servants on roast-beef and pudding till they are ready toburst, and yet takes the two or three shillings of rent of me which Ineed for porridge; and it's not that these great people like theirservants, only they like to get the name of their house being a goodmeat-house; and the fat limmers are as saucy to them, after all, asever."

  "But where have you put your ten shillings?" said the other. "Take careyou don't lose it. Is it in your pocket?"

  "Ay, all safe enough, along with the ticket. If I lose them, I lose all;and I may just as weel be coffined at once, and be done wi't. Ye're ayoung creature, and don't know the miseries o' the old."

  "And don't want for a while," said the other; "but where do you live?"

  "In Lady Lawson's Wynd," was the reply.

  "And how do you go home?"

  "By Hunter Square and the Bridge," said the simple woman; "for I've togo to Nicolson Square, where the factor lives, to pay him the nineshillings; but I doubt if he will ever get more, for now, with myblankets in the pawn, and nothing to redeem them, what is to cover me inthe cold nights of winter?"

  "What you can get, woman," said the other, harshly, as I thought, atleast without the feeling due to age and poverty; "just as I do, what weall do--the world to the winner."

  And what heartless creature can this young woman be? thought I, as,making a long neck, I looked round the side of the stair. My five timesconvicted Mary Anne Stewart, one of the nimblest pickpockets of thecity, and for whom I was then looking as connected with a stolen plaid.

  "Easy to say that," continued the old woman, "when you've health andyouth on your side; but don't be too confident. I was once a winner whenI won my poor husband; but what was there for me to win when I lost himwho was the winner of my bread, and was left to fight the battle of lifewith nothing but my ten fingers? You've both to win and to lose yet, mylass; and may the Lord be kinder to you than He has been to me!"

  "Best to look to one's-self and one's own pocket," was the consistentreply of the winner, Mary Anne.

  And to the pockets of others, said I to myself, the graceless baggage.

  "And you never look to Heaven, lass?" again said the woman.

  "Never got anything from that quarter yet," was the reply, in the samestrain. "Will Heaven enable you to take that pawn-ticket out of yourpouch and get your blankets back?"

  "Ay, and maybe mair," said the woman; "but though Providence may looksour on me, there's the Lord of providence, lass, mind that; and He cansmile on you even when you're suffering, for He knows He can take youout of it. And what church go ye to with these notions in your head?"

  "No one," was the saucy answer; "there's no kail in the kirks;" thenwith a laugh, "The ministers eat all the shewbread."

  And what more of this kind of talk which I have reported, perhaps in aform different from what took place, but retaining the generalsentiments of both, I cannot say, for they moved off. I saw them stillat it in the midst of the square, and till they came to the end of theclose opposite Hunter Square, where they parted. Meanwhile I went downthe steps by the Bridge, and making a circle round, I saw the womanmaking for Hunter Square, where there was a crowd round an Italian witha puggy--general holding a levee--a more sensible animal than itsmaster. Then keeping my eye on Mary Anne, I saw her join William Walkerand James M'Guire, two of my very best friends, as ready to do me aservice now as they had done before on more occasions than one. They didnot seem at the moment to be in so playful a mood as the Italian'spuggy; and I did not look for much sport till I got my expectationssharpened by their movement after Mrs Kerr (that was the name, I think)towards the two mountebanks, who had removed to the south of the Tron.

  I then wheeled round the north-east corner of the church, and keeping myeye on my trio, I placed myself in a stair-foot on the east side of theSouth Bridge, from which I could see both sets of performers, as well asthose performed upon. Mrs Kerr, who, in Lady Lawson's Wynd, had noopportunity of seeing monkeys from her garret window, seemed to haveforgotten the sorrows of her rent-day and the pawn-shop, and was gaping,as all sight-seers do, at the evolutions of pug, one of whose bestfeats, general as he was, was to extract his master's pockethandkerchief from the one pocket of his cotton velvet coat and put it inthe other, and then came the laugh, in which, I presume, the widow ofthe sorrowful face joined, when the Italian sought for the article inthe wrong pocket. Mrs Kerr did not take the lesson, though the Italian,as a kind of philanthropist, might have had the credit of putting hiscrowd upon their guard. The simple woman, from whose mind all hersorrows seemed, for the moment, banished, enjoyed this trickwonderfully, for I could see the careworn face lighted up with the veryextreme of satisfaction. Mary Anne was now at her back, apparentlygaping too, and behind her stood Walker and M'Guire, as interested inpug's pocket-picking as if the trick had been one new to them, andworthy of being learned.

  Now I fairly admit that, while I expected something, I was utterlyunprepared for an attack on Mary Anne's part on her poor old friend ofthe entry; for however harsh her words were to the old woman, I stillthought she had some qualms of pity excited in her by that sorrowfulwail which had struck my own ears as something touching andheart-stirring. I had been simply false to my experience, while MaryAnne remained true to her heartless craft. Yes, I saw the young hopelessextract from Mrs Kerr's pocket something, doubtless the ten shillings,and hand it to M'Guire, whereupon they all three hurried away down theHigh Street.

  My energy was roused in a moment, sharpened by the cruelty of this mostheartless robbery. My course was, to myself, clear, though not, perhaps,wh
at you might imagine. I have always had a horror of being seen rushingalong the street, like Justice under hysterics flying after a victim.It's not decorous, and, besides, it does no good. The red-hand is a goodcatch, but I have often enough known a startled thief drop a valuablewhich never could be recovered, and I have found my account betterbalanced by knowing my man, and catching him with the booty, when hethinks all safe. In this case, I allowed the three to pass me, nor did Ilay hands on them. I first hurried up to Mrs Kerr, and touching her onthe shoulder,

  "Is your ten shillings safe in your pocket?" said I.

  "My ten shillings!" said she, nervously; "surely it is, but how do youknow I had ten shillings in my pocket?"

  "Never mind that, search quick."

  "The Lord help me!" she exclaimed, as she fumbled in her empty pocket;"it's gone, with the pawn-ticket. I'm ruined, sir; it's all I have inthe world, and how am I to meet the factor? I'm ruined, ruined!"

  And she burst into tears, sobbing in the midst of the crowd.

  "Get as fast as you can to the Police-Office," said I, "and I'll bringto you the pickpockets, and maybe your money. You know one of them."

  "Who could be so cruel?" she inquired.

  "The young woman you blabbed to in the pawnbroker's stair," said I.

  "Oh, the Lord forgive her," said she, "for I told her the whole story ofmy grief."

  "Which you should have kept to yourself," said I. "Away to the Office,and wait for me."

  And having seen her off I proceeded down the High Street, in thedirection taken by the thieves. That confidence I have so often felt,and perhaps somewhat vaingloriously expressed, I can account for in noother way than viewing it as a result of my knowledge of thieves andtheir haunts, joined to the impression of so many successes. On thisoccasion I was so sure, that I believed I walked as if I had been goingto dinner, without being quickened by a very sharp appetite; but I didnot feel the less desire to get hold of those who had so unknowingly tothemselves roused sympathies in my breast, made sluggish, no doubt, bythe hardening influences of official routine. Mary Anne was so wellknown about the High Street, that she couldn't pass without theobservation of the loungers in that crowded resort of the poor. A fewpassing hints, like dots in a line, led me along till I came toToddrick's Wynd, at the head of which I paused, and casting a glancedown with my advantage of a good eye for a long wynd, I saw one of thoselittle clots of human beings, generally so interesting to me, inproportion as they shew an interest among themselves. I was quicker now,and rushing forward, I came upon the three I wanted, all busy in theglorious ceremony of division, that is, giving every one _his own_, withthe exception of the proprietor. The very sums were in their hands, withthe unction inseparable from the acquisition of money.

  "Five shillings to Mary Anne, and half-a-crown to each of you," said I,"is fair. I will settle it for you, since you seem to disagree. Thepawn-ticket for the blankets is for my trouble."

  There is seldom any hurry-skurry among these gentry, for they know theworst, and are made up to it.

  "Come, give me the money."

  And so they did, the whole ten shillings, and the ticket to boot.

  "No kail in the police cell to night, Mary Anne," said I, "any more thanin the church, where the ministers eat all the shewbread."

  Mary Anne looked into my face, and burst out into a laugh,--such is theseared and hardened temperament of thieves; and it is as well that thepunishment-mongers should know this, that they may endeavour to devisesome other and more effectual mode of reclamation.

  "So you had no pity for the poor old woman?"

  "The whining hag had more money than I had," was the reply.

  "You mean more than the five shillings you got for the stolen plaid?"said I.

  "Who said it was stolen?"

  "The lady in Gilmour Place you stole it from," said I. "I have beenlooking for you to settle that small matter for three days."

  A streak of new light thus thrown upon an old subject, which qualifiedMary Anne's fun, and silenced her.

  At this moment my assistant came up, and we took the three to theOffice, where I brought the young thief to face with Mrs Kerr. The lookof relief which played over the grief-worn features of the woman whenshe saw her four half-crowns and pawn-ticket, can only be understood bythose who are, or have been poor, and who know the narrow margin on theverge of which flit the few and desultory illumined figures of theirhappiness. It did not last long, for it was to give place to the oldmelancholy; but I believe the feelings with which she looked on the faceof the hardened creature to whom she had poured out the simple historyof her sorrows, would never pass away.

  "I didn't think, for all I have heard of the wickedness of humancreatures," she said, as she kept her eyes on Mary Anne, who did notseem to feel her situation more than as quite a natural one, "that itwas in the heart of a woman to rob one, who might be her mother, of allshe had in the world."

  "'Twill learn you to look at monkeys again," replied Mary Anne, with alaugh, which gave so ludicrous a turn to the pathetic, that theLieutenant himself could scarcely resist it.

  She might have profited by the monkey, thought I, for it offered her alesson which she did not take to heart.

  And thus this act of the strange drama ended. The next was theretributive one--the issue or conclusion being proportioned, not to theamount taken, but to the enormity of the hardened depravity which itrevealed. The three were tried before the High Court. Mary Anne, as theprincipal performer, getting ten years' transportation, and Walker andM'Guire seven years each. So that, had Mary Anne's mind not been closedagainst every good impression, she would have admitted that, if she hadnever previously obtained anything from that Power she so irreverentlymaligned, she had at length received a share of the stern and severereward it invariably bestows upon the vicious and the guilty.