The Black Sealed Letter
A >> Andrew Learmont Spedon >> The Black Sealed LetterNote: Images of the original pages are available through
Early Canadiana Online. See
http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/24721?id=a50979a2f62af312
Tales for Canadian Homes.
THE BLACK-SEALED LETTER;
Or, The Misfortunes of a Canadian Cockney.
by
ANDREW LEARMONT SPEDON,
Author of "Canadian Summer Evening Tales," "The Canadian Minstrel," &c.
Printed for the Author,
by Mitchell & Wilson, Montreal.
1872.
How slight a cause may change our life
Beyond its own control,
Produce a cordial to the heart,
Or canker in the soul.
The Black-Sealed Letter;
OR,
THE MISFORTUNES OF A CANADIAN COCKNEY.
CHAPTER I.
Old London!--city of cities!--whose foundations were laid when the
ancient Briton in his martial glory prowled among the dense forests
whose foliage darkened the waters of the Thames, long ere the foot of
the adventurous Roman had touched the shores of Albion; or the Dane and
Saxon had established themselves within the strongholds of the British
isles. Who has not heard of this great old city, teeming with human
life, and filled with the extremes of wealth, poverty, righteousness and
iniquity? Who has not heard of its eminent statesmen and its
distinguished authors:--its time-honored institutions of religion,
literature and jurisprudence: its antiquated buildings, themselves
volumes of history written the eventful finger of time:--its massive
warehouses; and also its magnificent mansions, wherein peers and princes
banquet in luxury:--its club-houses; and its dens of pollution, amid
whose shadows the grim spectres of degraded humanity struggle out a
wretched existence. Into this great city--wonderful and complicated in
itself--the modern Babylon of the world,--gentle reader, now follow me
in imagination, and I will introduce you to the subject of the following
story.
It is the Saturday evening of a chilly night towards the end of
November, 1869, that season of the year in which the grey old buildings
of London assume a more sombre aspect than during the sunny days of
summer. The twilight had congealed into darkness after a somewhat foggy
day, and mantling its shadows around the homes of the destitute and
degraded, tinging the wretched inmates with melancholy, and even making
their lives more miserable and less tenacious to the world. The dark
streets have been lighted up. The great tide of human beings that have
during the day thronged the thoroughfares, has partially subsided; but
thousands of pedestrians are still bustling to and fro; while the din of
carriages are heard on every street. The provision shops are crowded
with noisy customers. The coffee-houses are steaming forth their
delicious viands, where throngs of both men and women are greedily
satisfying their appetites: while thousands of ale-houses and gin-hells
are pouring forth their poisonous liquids, where crowds of miserably
degraded wretches of both sexes in human shape are swallowing down the
deadly elements and rioting in hellish revelry. Alas! how many a home
has been converted into a mad-house, yea, even into a very hell, by
these dens of pollution, in which dwell the accursed spirit-dealers of
iniquity.
Alas! how many a fond wife, with her little ones, perhaps destitute of
every domestic comfort, is at that very moment anxiously awaiting the
return of her husband. Hour after hour may pass away, until the very
depths of night appear to grow sad with the dreary sorrow of her heart,
and at length he returns--but not as a loving and sober husband; not as
a tender and home-providing father; not as a man, with all the noble
attributes of the human nature; not as a Christian, with the spiritual
Balm of Gilead, with which to soothe the cankering ills of his
household;--no, not as either he returns, but rather as a madman escaped
from the prison walls of Bedlam, or as fiend let loose from the nether
kennel.
But, nevertheless, there were thousands of happy households that evening
enjoying the domestic comforts of a peaceful home,--that place, the
dearest of all on earth, when sanctified by the affection of a united,
sober, and industrious family. Such was the home and household of Mr.
Charlston.
Mr. and Mrs. Charlston, their two sons and three daughters, were on that
night comfortably seated in their little sitting room after tea; the
mother and her daughters engaged at needlework; the father and his
eldest son, George, reading the newspapers, while Frederick, the
younger, was reclining upon a sofa. An infant of a year old was sleeping
in a cradle; a little kitten was nestling at its feet, and purring as if
trying to soothe the dreamy slumbers of its tender companion.
Mr. Charlston was about fifty-five years of age, in physical appearance
tall and nervous; with sharp, prominent features, and well-defined head,
denoting energy and perception. His wife was apparently about fifty
years; well proportioned in form and feature, her face expressive of
sensibility and affection. The little furrows around her dark eyes, and
the streaks of gray hairs, had already denoted the footmarks of elder
age; nevertheless, she was still possessed of a considerable share of
that beauty which in her younger years had distinguished her as the
"Belle of Elton," the village in which she had formerly resided. The
daughters in appearance somewhat resembled their mother, the eldest of
whom was then in her twenty-first year. George, the first-born of the
family, was possessed of a robust constitution, of the middle size, and
about twenty-six years of age. Frederick in appearance was the very
_facsimile_ of his father, with all the finer sensibilities of his
mother; yet, apparently possessed of a stern determination of will,
amounting to stubborness when actuated by the impulses of a nervous
temperament. Mr. Charlston was a hatter by trade; and at the time
referred to kept a hat factory of his own in Fleet Street. His industry
had placed him in favorable circumstances. Estimating the value of labor
and intellect, he had given his children a tolerably good education, and
at a proper age had apprenticed his sons to become tradesmen. George
followed the business of his father. Frederick was a cabinet-maker, and
at the time referred to had been two years employed as a journeyman.
Neither Mr. Charlston nor his sons were then addicted to intemperance.
Frederick was a strict teetotaller. Occasionally a bottle of ale was
partaken of by the others; or when an acquaintance visited the house, or
during the Christmas holidays, an additional bottle might be set down to
grace the table. They were, however, a sober and industrious family; and
when the labours of the day were past, they generally gathered around
the household hearth to spend their evenings pleasantly and profitably
to themselves.
On the evening referred to, and whilst Mr. Charlston and family were
engaged in their respective duties, as described, the door bell was
rung. George attended to the signal; and in a few seconds a young man
entered the room, signalizing himself in a very familiar but somewhat
uncouth manner.
"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Charlston. How are you Eliza, Amelia, and
Charlotte? and you Frederick, old lad? I didn't see you at work to-day.
I thought something was out of joint with you, and I have come on
purpose to see. Why what's the matter with your neck? You have it
swaddled up as if you were determined to defy the hangman's rope from
ever getting a hold of you," ejaculated Charles Holstrom.
"Oh, I have only caught a bit of a cold in my throat," replied
Frederick; "come Charlie, take a seat by my side and give us your latest
news about town."
The husky voice of Holstrom awoke the infant from its peaceful slumber,
and the poor thing began to bawl loudly as if startled from either
surprise or fear.
Mrs. Charlston lifted it to her knee, and having hushed it into
quietness she began feeding it with some cordial food.
"Well, I declare, he has grown to be a big lump of a lad," exclaimed
Holstrom. "I dare say, Frederick, you feel conceited enough now to think
yourself a degree above such fellows as George and I are, in having
graduated as a Batchelor of Arts--I mean--Bachelor of Babies. You will,
no doubt hereafter, append B. B. to your name as a title of merit; or,
Bad Behavior, I should rather have said. However, the initials will
stand for both. He's the very picture of yourself, and will soon need a
hat as big as his grandpa's."
At this moment the bell was again rung; and shortly afterwards, a
graceful looking young woman entered the room. Very politely she shook
hands with Mr. and Mrs. Charlston and the others present. She then took
the infant, and pressed it lovingly to her bosom, imprinting a few
kisses upon its tiny lips. The child in return smiled affectionately,
apparently delighted with the caresses of a recognized and familiar
friend.
"I say, Clara," exclaimed Holstrom, addressing the young woman, with
whom he was apparently acquainted, "I think it would be charitable on
your part to spare a few of those luxuriant caresses for poor Frederick;
a slight sprinkling of balm from your roseate lips would work wonders as
a remedy to his breathing apparatus. Just come and see how many dozen of
blankets he has wrapped around his throat: enough, I am sure, to supply
the beds of a whole household on a winter's night."
"Why, Frederick, how did you get such a cold in your throat?"
interrogated Clara.
"By sleeping alone during the cold nights of the past week," retorted
Holstrom, ere Frederick could get time to breathe out a more respectful
answer.
At this moment the subject was immediately dropped through the timely
interference of Mr. Charlston, reading a paragraph of interesting news
from the _Times_. After an hour's conversation on various topics the
young woman arose and announced her intention of leaving; whereupon
Holstrom sprang up, bade them all good night and immediately departed.
Clara shortly afterwards left also, promising ere long to repeat her
visit. It was customary for Frederick to accompany her home; but on
account of his illness that night George offered to convey her to her
residence, distant about one mile.
"Thank you, George, for your kind offer," replied Clara; "but there is
no necessity to do so to-night; a female acquaintance who accompanied me
to a friend's house a few doors from here, is expecting me to call for
her, and perhaps I may be detained for some time, therefore, dear
George, excuse me."
No sooner had Clara departed than Frederick, disguised himself in his
father's old hat, overcoat and muffler, and immediately started in
pursuit of Clara.
CHAPTER II.
Before proceeding further it is necessary to inform the reader who Clara
and Charles Holstrom were; and, also, to narrate the varied and
complicated circumstances of several years preceding this eventful
night.
Charles Holstrom was the youngest son of a London tradesman. He had
attended school with Frederick, and was now working in the same shop and
at the same business with him. He was possessed of a robust physical
appearance, somewhat coarsely featured;--of a bold, but humorous
disposition--at times impertinent, and even repulsive in his manner.
Frederick had really never considered him as a confidential friend; but
their long acquaintance with each other, and the many associations of
their united course in life had induced him to consider Charles as a
respected friend rather than a fellow companion; and from these
circumstances alone the Charlstons had received him as an occasional
visitor to their house.
Clara Hazledon was the only daughter of a poor but respectable widow
with whom the Charlston family had been long acquainted. Previous to
their removal to Fleet street they were next door neighbors. Mr.
Charlston and Clara's father had been early companions of each other.
Their children had grown up together, and had been associates at the
same school, and although now in unequal circumstances, still looked
upon each other as very familiar friends. After the death of Mr.
Hazledon, he having died when the family was young, his wife struggled
hard against adversity to bring up her little ones. But five years after
the death of her first husband she married another, who, unfortunately
turned out to be only a worthless and degraded fellow. Clara, by her
expertness at needlework, had procured a good situation in a millinery
shop. Her brothers, all younger than herself, were also respectably
employed.
Frederick and Clara had been passionately fond of each other when
children, and as they grew older their affection became more matured;
and at length the sympathies of their love were more firmly united by a
marriage engagement, the consummation of which was purposed to take
place as soon as circumstances would render it favorably convenient. But
the basis of life's future prospects, however substantial it may be, is
often undermined by some casual innovation; and there is no earthly
hope, however bright its radiance may appear, but is liable to be
darkened by some event that may suddenly loom up from the horizon of
life. Such was the case amid the quietude of their affections. By some
inadvertent impulse of human nature their chastity was sacrificed, and
Frederick and Clara became parents before they had sanctified their
affections upon the altar of matrimony.
The event threw a shadow into the homes of both families, and served as
food for the tongues of idle gossips among their acquaintances.
Mrs. Charlston and her daughters paid a respectful visit to the house of
Mrs. Hazledon--or Mrs. Collins as she was then named,--and with whom
Clara was then staying. They carried with them presents of various
sorts; and even Mr. Charlston himself, although chagrined at the event,
evinced a charitable spirit by placing twenty guineas in the hand of
Clara, as a present in behalf of his grandson.
Frederick stole his visits under the secret shades of evening, and
showed every expression of sympathy and affection for Clara and the
little one; at the same time promising the consummation of their union
as soon as circumstances would conveniently permit. A few weeks after
the birth of the child, in December of 1868, Frederick made a tour into
Devonshire for the purpose of visiting an uncle residing in the town of
Exeter, and also discovering some thriving village or town where he
might find ready employment, with the view of eventually establishing
himself in business to his own advantage. He at length selected Tiverton
as his place of residence, where he procured work at favorable wages.
Elated with success he immediately wrote to his parents, and also penned
a lengthy epistle to Clara, describing the place and people in very
flattering words, flourishing off with a few epithets expressive of his
undying affection for herself and the child; and hoping that in a few
months he would have the pleasure of introducing her to a comfortable
home, under the happy title of Mrs. Frederick Charlston.
Winter passed slowly along, during which time letters were frequently
sent and received. The first day of May at length came, but no house was
apparently provided for Clara and her child. Shortly afterwards
Frederick returned home, and made known the intelligence that he had
given up the idea of settling in Tiverton as he had decided upon making
his future home in Canada, which place had been described by an emigrant
agent who had lectured several nights in the town, as one of the finest
countries in the world for the workingmen of England; that millions of
acres of land were there to be given away, and every actual settler
received 100 acres _gratis_. A river one hundred times larger than all
the rivers of England put together, ran the whole length of the country,
1500 miles long. There were lakes there so large that even into the
smallest of them the whole island of Great Britain might be thrown, and
sink beyond recovery. In fact, said he, "it possessed all the facilities
and improvements of the 19th century;--equality, independence and wealth
awaiting every industrious man who went thither;--it was, indeed, the
workshop of the tradesman, the emporium of the trader, and above all,
blessed be the fact, _it was the poor man's paradise upon earth_."
Frederick soon discovered that the big bubble he had blown up was likely
to be blown down. His mother and sisters strongly objected to his
purpose, and begged of him not to bury himself out of the world as long
as he had an opportunity of living in it.
"Why, Frederick," exclaimed his father, "were you to go to Canada you
would repent of it but once, and that will be as long as you live. You
talk of free-lands; why, of what use would they be to you? They might be
of service to those who have been long accustomed to outside labor. But
for you to go into the dense forests amidst mountains of almost
perpetual snow, to chop out for yourself a fortune, or even a
livelihood, would be a thousand times worse than banishment to the icy
deserts of Siberia. For my sake, and for the love you owe to all that
are dear to you in England, I beseech of you to relinquish, at least for
the present, your design. Get married at once, and settle down quietly
and industriously to work, either at Tiverton or in London, and I will
assist in the furnishing of a house for you and Clara."
Frederick made no satisfactory reply.
On the second evening after he had come home, Charlie Holstrom, having
heard of his return, called to see him.
"A thousand welcomes back, old lad," exclaimed H., heartily shaking the
hand of his old associate. "Why, my dear fellow, I've come over to bid
you good bye, as I heard to-day that you are going to the Cannibal
Islands."
Mr. Charlston and the others laughed heartily at the expression.
"It is only to Canada that I intend to ship myself," replied Frederick
somewhat shyly.
"Worse, and worse!" retorted H. "Why, what do you expect to get there?"
"Get a farm for nothing, and make a fortune in five years," said
Frederick.
"If the farm is to be given away for nothing I may venture to say, _it
will be worth nothing_," replied H., and continued, "I had an
acquaintance who went to Canada a few years ago with L500; and having
lived three years upon one of those 'nothing farms' or rather, living
upon his money during that time, he returned to England utterly worth
_nothing_. Why, Fred! such farms may be suitable enough for men of iron
muscles and wooden stomachs, and who can work whether they eat or
not;--men who have nothing to lose except their life, and would even
sacrifice that for a small amount. But for either you or I to go there
in search of a living, or anything else, except death and horror, would
be worse for us than hanging; it would eventually result in
strangulation by starvation. And besides, as my acquaintance informed
me, the woods are infested with wild animals; and if a fellow attempted
to venture out at night very possibly his carcass would be very soon
deposited in the inside of a dozen of wolves. He further told me that
the trees during summer rained down myriads of mosquitoes as large as
beetles, with stings like hornets and in the shape of a tube, by which
means a dozen of them could suck up a fellow's blood in a night; and
were by far a greater plague than the grasshoppers of Egypt. To prevent
them from settling upon himself he covered his head and neck with a mask
made from deer-skin, in which he cut holes to inhale air and see
through; but despite of such precautions they would sometimes force
their way through these orifices, and one dart, said he, into a fellow's
eye was sufficient to cause a myriad of stars to fly from his winker."
"Well, but that is really horrifying," exclaimed Mrs. Charlston.
"Awful, awful!" shouted Amelia.
"'Tis really so indeed," added Eliza.
"Oh! it is all bosh," ejaculated Fred.
"_Bosh!_ d'ye say!" exclaimed H. "Indeed, I have only told you the least
objectionable part. I assure you, he related things that would make a
fellow's blood to curdle into vinegar, and perspire from every pore of
the body. I credit everything he told me, for his word is as much to be
depended upon as the 'Law of Moses.'"
"That'll do for the present," said Amelia.
"Go on," cried George.
"What did he say about the climate?" inquired Mr. C.
"He told me, sir, that it was so hot during the dog-days in summer, that
the people had to lie upon deer-skins filled with water to prevent their
bodies from being totally dissolved into vapor, and, that at the end of
that terrible season they appeared only as living skeletons, as slender,
indeed, as to be incapable of producing even a shadow."
"Oh! but that is awfully horrible!" exclaimed Mrs. C. Mr. Charlston and
George laughed heartily. The girls shrugged up their shoulders,
expressive of nervous twitchings.
"And in winter," continued H., "it is so intensely cold that every river
to its foundation is frozen into ice. It snows sometimes for weeks
without ceasing; it is then generally followed by fierce winds which
drift the snow into heaps like mountains, frequently burying houses and
their inhabitants a hundred feet deep."
"Horrible! horrible!" ejaculated Mrs. C.
"The air is sometimes so intensely cold that the mercury in the
thermometer is congealed into ice at 150 degrees below zero; and it
frequently occurs during those frosty periods that travellers, with
their horses and vehicles, are found petrified into ice, so hard that
they never can be thawed out again. Hundreds of such groups are
preserved in the Canadian museums, and shown as curiosities to foreign
travellers."
"Oh! Charlie, for pity's sake, don't horrify us so!" shouted Mrs. C.
"Do stop, Charlie, you'll frighten us to death," exclaimed the girls,
fearfully excited.
Mr. Charlston and George laughed heartily. Fred muttered out something
condemnatory; while George cried out, "Go on Charlie, tell the whole
story."
"I haven't told you the one-half yet; but this will do for the
present;--only I might merely add,--that if Fred goes out for a
free-farm he will get a free wife into the bargain. The forests are
infested with a more dangerous class of animals than wolves. They are
savages in human shape, and are designated by the name of Indians. Every
foreigner who takes a farm is compelled to take a young squaw--a she
Indian--as a wife to himself. The males in return kidnap white women for
themselves; but should a man refuse to comply with their wishes, he is
immediately seized upon by those savages and flayed at once. His skin is
afterwards tanned, and made into tobacco-pouches. These are sold to
traders and imported to England. What say you, Fred, to this? Should you
go to Canada, I may yet have a pouch made out of your pelt. So good
night to all," ejaculated Holstrom, and abruptly made his exit, amidst
an uproar of exclamations and laughter.
CHAPTER III.
Perhaps many of my readers may think that I have thrown in the
statements of Charles Holstrom as a sort of burlesque upon Canada. Such
is not the case on my part. I have given expression to nothing more than
the opinion held by too many persons throughout Great Britain respecting
this country. Indeed, there are hundreds in England alone, who are not
aware of the existence of such a place; and thousands there are who know
of nothing authentic concerning Canada except the name. I speak not from
hearsay alone; I can personally substantiate these facts.
Since the Confederation of these Provinces in 1867, Canada has become
better known in England through the means of lecturers and
emigration-agents sent thither by the Dominion Government. But, in some
cases, men have been appointed as lecturers who were not really
possessed of any personal experience and practical knowledge of Canada
beyond the limits of the city or town in which they had lived. Such men,
in order to make the country and themselves popular, drew highly colored
pictures of the New Dominion, extolling its inexhaustible physical
resources, its mercantile and manufacturing advantages, its railway and
river facilities, its millions of acres of new land in the shape of
farms to be given away gratis to all who agreed to become
settlers,--together with a thousand of other attractions, augmented 100
per cent. Such lectures were generally delivered in manufacturing towns
and the great centres of population. There is always in every audience a
number whose minds are rendered pliable by the speaker's tongue,
particularly if their own interests are involved.
Such was generally the case at these lectures. Clerks, young
professionals, and mechanics, including silk and carpet spinners and
weavers would become thus unhinged from their long accustomed
stand-post, and perchance, for the first time, begin to prospect their
future beyond the limits of their own town, at the same time wondering
what on earth had induced them to live fools so long. By these means a
vast number of Englishmen during the past few years, have been persuaded
to emigrate to Canada. The hardier class, comparatively few in number,
flocked into the agricultural and forest districts, to hew out a home
for themselves; while the more sensitive struck a bee-line to the
cities, to procure easy and genteel employment at excellent wages. But
in so doing the hopes of many were suddenly frustrated. Shops and
counting-houses were literally crammed with employees; in fact, every
genteel situation had its quota. Silk-lace and carpet weaving had
scarcely a nominal existence. Every town, village, and city had more
professional men than could get a comfortable livelihood. The
characteristics of the country and its people appeared to them extremely
coarse and terribly _'orrifying'_. Wages, they said, were no better than
those in England. Many who could have got employment preferred
travelling the country over in search of higher wages. Some, however,
went manfully to work at once. Others preferred boarding at a hotel,
living idle upon their stock of funds, waiting patiently for something
upon the wheel of fortune to turn up profitably to their own interests,
and every morning eagerly peering over the "_want advertisements_" of
the _Globe_ and _Witness_, perhaps for months, until their means became
considerably exhausted; and eventually taking a hurried departure to the
_States_, or perchance returning home, utterly disgusted with Canada and
everything connected with it, and carrying in their minds pictures of
the country delineated in the darkest colors.