England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- England -- Fiction
“Why, what do you think, now?” asked Palethorpe, with a peculiarly
knowing look. “What _do_ you think? Just guess. I'll bet a shilling you
can't guess, if you guess all night. No--no; no man knows my bizziness
but myself. My name's Palethorpe, and I know two of that. Can you tell
me, do you know anybody named Colin Clink here i' Lunnun?”
“I do,” said our hero. “I know him well.”
“You do!” exclaimed Samuel, trying to start up and stare in his face,
but sinking again in the effort; “then yo 're my man! Gis hold on your
hand, my lad. Dang his carcase! I 'll kill him as sure as iver I touch
him! I will--I tell you. I 'll kill him dead on th' spot.”
“But you mean to catch him first,” said Colin, “don't you?”
“What do you mean? Catch him! I mean to catch him! Be civil, my lad, or
else I shall put a spur in _your_ sides afore you go.”
“You brute!” exclaimed Colin, seizing him by the collar on each side of
his neck, and holding his head stiff up with his knuckles,--“look at me.
I am Colin Clink. Now, you cowardly, drunken scoundrel, what have you
not deserved at my hands?”
“Oh! what, you are he, are you?” gurgled
Mr. Palethorpe. “Just let me go a minnit, and I 'll show you!”
“Come, then!” said Colin, and he pulled the said Mr. Palethorpe to the
edge of the causeway. In the next moment he deposited him in the middle
of a large dam which had been made in the gutter close by for the
convenience of some bricklayers, who were repairing an adjoining house,
telling him to “sit there, and sober himself; and the next time he tried
to catch Colin Clink, to thank his stars if he came off no worse.” So
saying, he left him to the enjoyment of his “new patent water-bed,” and
his meditations.
Near the Borough town-hall Colin met a policeman, whom he informed of
the hapless condition of a poor drunken countryman some distance down
the street, and requested him to go to his assistance. He then made
off at the best speed he could, and soon baffled all pursuit amidst the
intricate turnings of the city. True, he lost his way; still he reached
his lodgings before four o'clock.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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