"Howly Mother! not away up there--sure it's crazy ye are. What, away up there in the city limits!--why, they would have the police and the sogers at our heels in less than no time. Sure, you're out o' your sinses, to have me go up there with a mob. No, no--there's too much risk--I can't try that."

"I tell you there shall be no risk," impatiently replied Mr. Stevens. "It's not to be done to-night, nor to-morrow night; and, when I say do it, you _shall_ do it, and as safely there as anywhere. Only come to the conclusion that a thing _must_ be done, and it is half finished already. You have only to make up your mind that you will accomplish a design in spite of obstacles, and what you once thought to be insurmountable difficulties will prove mere straws in your path. But we are wasting time; I've determined you shall do it, and I hope you now know me well enough to be convinced that it is your best policy to be as obliging as possible. You had better go now, and be prepared to meet me to-night at Whitticar's."

After the door closed upon the retreating form of McCloskey, the careless expression that Mr. Stevens's countenance had worn during the conversation, gave place to one full of anxiety and apprehension, and he shuddered as he contemplated the fearful length to which he was proceeding.

"If I fail," said he--"pshaw! I'll not fail--I must not fail--for failure is worse than ruin; but cool--cool," he continued, sitting down to his desk--"those who work nervously do nothing right." He sat writing uninterruptedly until quite late in the afternoon, when the fading sunlight compelled him to relinquish his pen, and prepare for home.

Thrusting the papers into his pocket, he hurried toward the newspaper office from which were to emanate, as editorials, the carefully concocted appeals to the pa.s.sions of the rabble which he had been all the afternoon so busily engaged in preparing.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Mr. Stevens falls into Bad Hands.

The amiable partner of Mr. Stevens sat in high dudgeon, at being so long restrained from her favourite beverage by the unusually deferred absence of her husband. At length she was rejoiced by hearing his well-known step as he came through the garden, and the rattle of his latch-key as he opened the door was quite musical in her ears.

"I thought you was never coming," said she, querulously, as he entered the room; "I have been waiting tea until I am almost starved."

"You needn't have waited a moment, for you will be obliged to eat alone after all; I'm going out. Pour me out a cup of tea--I'll drink it whilst I'm dressing; and," continued Mr. Stevens, "I want you to get me that old brown over-coat and those striped trowsers I used to wear occasionally."

"Why, you told me," rejoined Mrs. Stevens, "that you did not require them again, and so I exchanged them for this pair of vases to-day."

"The devil you did!" said Mr. Stevens, angrily; "you let them lie about the house for nearly a year--and now, just as they were likely to be of some service to me, you've sold them. It's just like you--always doing something at the wrong time."

"How on earth, Stevens, was I to know you wanted them?"

"Well, there, Jule, they're gone; don't let's have any more talk about it.

Get me another cup of tea; I must go out immediately." After hastily swallowing the second cup, Mr. Stevens left his home, and walked to an omnibus-station, from whence he was quickly transported to a street in the lower part of the city, in which were a number of second-hand clothing stores. These places were supported princ.i.p.ally by the country people who attended the market in the same street, and who fancied that the clothing they purchased at these shops must be cheap, because it was at second-hand.

Mr. Stevens stopped at the door of one of these establishments, and paused to take a slight survey of the premises before entering. The doorway was hung with coats of every fashion of the last twenty years, and all in various stages of decay. Some of them looked quite respectable, from much cleaning and patching; and others presented a reckless and forlorn aspect, as their worn and ragged sleeves swung about in the evening air. Old hats, some of which were, in all probability, worn at a period anterior to the Revolution, kept company with the well-blacked shoes that were ranged on shelves beside the doorway, where they served in the capacity of signs, and fairly indicated the style of goods to be purchased within.

Seeing that there were no buyers in the store, Mr. Stevens opened the door, and entered. The sounds of his footsteps drew from behind the counter no less a personage than our redoubtable friend Kinch, who, in the absence of his father, was presiding over the establishment.

"Well, s...o...b..ll," said Mr. Stevens, "do you keep this curiosity-shop?"

"My name is not s...o...b..ll, and this ain't a curiosity-shop," replied Kinch.

"Do you want to buy anything?"

"I believe I do," answered Mr. Stevens. "Let me look at some coats--one that I can get on--I won't say fit me, I'm indifferent about that--let me see some of the worst you've got."

Kinch looked surprised at this request from a gentleman of Mr. Stevens's appearance, and handed out, quite mechanically, a coat that was but slightly worn. "Oh, that won't do--I want something like this," said Mr.

Stevens, taking down from a peg a very dilapidated coat, of drab colour, and peculiar cut. What do you ask for this?"

"That's not fit for, a gentleman like you, sir," said Kinch.

"I'm the best judge of that matter," rejoined Mr. Stevens. "What is the price of it?"

"Oh, that coat you can have for a dollar," replied Kinch.

"Then I'll take it. Now hand out some trowsers."

The trowsers were brought; and from a large number Mr. Stevens selected a pair that suited him. Then adding an old hat to his list of purchases, he declared his fit-out complete.

"Can't you accommodate me with some place where I can put these on?" he asked of Kinch; "I'm going to have a little sport with some friends of mine, and I want to wear them."

Kinch led the way into a back room, where he a.s.sisted Mr. Stevens to array himself in his newly-purchased garments. By the change in his attire he seemed completely robbed of all appearance of respectability; the most disagreeable points of his physique seemed to be brought more prominently forward by the habiliments he had a.s.sumed, they being quite in harmony with his villanous countenance.

Kinch, who looked at him with wonder, was forced to remark, "Why, you don't look a bit like a gentleman now, sir."

Mr. Stevens stepped forward, and surveyed himself in the looking-gla.s.s. The transformation was complete--surprising even to himself. "I never knew before," said he, mentally, "how far a suit of clothes goes towards giving one the appearance of a gentleman."

He now emptied the pockets of the suit he had on;--in so doing, he dropped upon the floor, without observing it, one of the papers.

"Fold these up," said he, handing to Kinch the suit he had just taken off, "and to-morrow bring them to this address." As he spoke, he laid his card upon the counter, and, after paying for his new purchases, walked out of the shop, and bent his steps in the direction of Whitticar's tavern.

On arriving there, he found the bar-room crowded with half-drunken men, the majority of whom were Irishmen, armed with bludgeons of all sizes and shapes. His appearance amongst them excited but little attention, and he remained there some time before he was recognized by the master of the establishment.

"By the howly St. Patherick I didn't know you, squire; what have you been doing to yourself?"

"Hist!" cried Mr. Stevens, putting his fingers to his lips; "I thought it was best to see how matters were progressing, so I've run down for a little while. How are you getting on?"

"Fine, fine, squire," replied Whitticar; "the boys are ripe for anything.

They talk of burning down a n.i.g.g.e.r church."

"Not to-night--they must not do such a thing to-night--we are not ready for that yet. I've made out a little list--some of the places on it they might have a dash at to-night, just to keep their hands in." As Mr. Stevens spoke, he fumbled in his pocket for the list in question, and was quite surprised to be unable to discover it.

"Can't you find it, squire?" asked Whitticar.

"I must have lost; it on the way," replied Mr. Stevens. "I am sure I put it in this pocket," and he made another search. "No use--I'll have to give it up," said he, at length; "but where is McCloskey? I haven't seen him since I came in."

"He came here this afternoon, very far gone; he had been crooking his elbow pretty frequently, and was so very drunk that I advised him to go home and go to bed; so he took another dram and went away, and I haven't seen him since."

"That's bad, very bad--everything goes wrong this evening--I wanted him to-night particularly." "Wouldn't the boys go out with you?" suggested Whitticar.

"No, no; that wouldn't do at all. I mustn't appear in these things. If I'm hauled up for partic.i.p.ation, who is to be your lawyer--eh?"

"True for you," rejoined Whitticar; "and I'll just disperse the crowd as soon as I can, and there will be one peaceable night in the district at any rate."

Not liking to give directions to the mob personally, and his useful coadjutor McCloskey not being at hand, Mr. Stevens came to the conclusion he would return to his home, and on the next evening a descent should be made upon the places marked on the list.

Taking out his watch, he found it would be too late to return to the store where he had purchased his present adornments, so he determined to start for home.

The coat that temporarily adorned the person of Mr. Stevens was of peculiar cut and colour--it was, in fact, rather in the rowdy style, and had, in its pristine state, bedecked the person of a member of a notorious fire company. These gentry had for a long time been the terror of the district in which they roamed, and had rendered themselves highly obnoxious to some of the rival factions on the borders of their own territory; they had the unpleasant habit of pitching into and maltreating, without the slightest provocation, any one whom their practised eyes discovered to be a rival; and by such outrages they had excited in the bosoms of their victims a desire for revenge that only awaited the occasion to manifest itself.

Mr. Stevens, in happy unconsciousness, that, owing to his habiliments, he represented one of the well-known and hated faction, walked on quite leisurely; but, unfortunately for him, his way home lay directly through the camp of their bitterest and most active enemies.