Blue Lights | Page 7

he stopped, without very well knowing why, in front of a
large imposing edifice. Looking up, he observed the words SOLDIERS'
INSTITUTE in large letters on the front of it.
"What sort of an Institute is that?" he asked.
"Oh! it's a miserable affair, where soldiers are taken in cheap, as they
say, an' done for," returned the shabby man hurriedly, as if the subject
were distasteful to him. "Come along with me and I'll show you places
where soldiers--ay, and civilians too--can enjoy themselves like
gentlemen, an' get value for their money."
As he spoke, two fine-looking men issued from a small street close to
them, and crossed the road--one a soldier of the line, the other a marine.
"Here it is, Jack," exclaimed the soldier to his friend; "Miss Sarah
Robinson's Institoot, that you've heard so much about. Come an' I'll
show you where you can write your letter in peace--"
Thus much was overheard by Miles as they turned into a side-street,
and entered what was obviously one of the poorer districts of the town.

"Evidently that soldier's opinion does not agree with yours," remarked
Miles, as they walked along.
"More's the pity!" returned the shabby man, whose name he had
informed his companion was Sloper. "Now we are getting among
places, you see, where there's a good deal of drinking going on."
"I scarcely require to be told that," returned Miles, curtly; for he was
beginning to feel his original dislike to Mister Sloper intensified.
It did not indeed require any better instructor than eyes and ears to
inform our hero that the grog-shops around him were full, and that a
large proportion of the shouting and swearing revellers inside were
soldiers and seamen.
By this time it was growing dark, and most of the gin-palaces were
beginning to send forth that glare of intense and warm light with which
they so knowingly attract the human moths that constitute their prey.
"Here we are," said Sloper, stopping in front of a public-house in a
narrow street. "This is one o' the respectable lodgin's. Most o' the
others are disreputable. It's not much of a neighbourhood, I admit."
"It certainly is not very attractive," said Miles, hesitating.
"You said you wanted a cheap one," returned Sloper, "and you can't
expect to have it cheap and fashionable, you know. You've no occasion
to be afraid. Come in."
The arguments of Mr Sloper might have failed to move Miles, but the
idea of his being afraid to go anywhere was too much for him.
"Go in, then," he said, firmly, and followed.
The room into which he was ushered was a moderately large
public-house, with a bar and a number of tables round the room, at
which many men and a few women were seated; some gambling, others
singing or disputing, and all drinking and smoking. It is only right to

say that Miles was shocked. Hitherto he had lived a quiet and
comparatively innocent country life. He knew of such places chiefly
from books or hearsay, or had gathered merely the superficial
knowledge that comes through the opening of a swing-door. For the
first time in his life he stood inside a low drinking-shop, breathing its
polluted atmosphere and listening to its foul language. His first impulse
was to retreat, but false shame, the knowledge that he had no friend in
Portsmouth, or place to go to, that the state of his purse forbade his
indulging in more suitable accommodation, and a certain pride of
character which made him always determine to carry out what he had
resolved to do--all these considerations and facts combined to prevent
his acting on the better impulse. He doggedly followed his guide to a
small round table and sat down.
Prudence, however, began to operate within him. He felt that he had
done wrong; but it was too late now, he thought, to retrace his steps. He
would, however, be on his guard; would not encourage the slightest
familiarity on the part of any one, and would keep his eyes open. For a
youth who had seen nothing of the world this was a highly
commendable resolve.
"What'll you drink?" asked Mr Sloper.
Miles was on the point of saying "Coffee," but, reflecting that the
beverage might not be readily obtainable in such a place, he substituted
"Beer."
Instead of calling the waiter, Mr Sloper went himself to the bar to fetch
the liquor. While he was thus engaged, Miles glanced round the room,
and was particularly struck with the appearance of a large, fine-looking
sailor who sat at the small table next to him, with hands thrust deep into
his trousers-pockets, his chin resting on his broad chest, and a solemn,
owlish stare in his semi-drunken yet manly countenance. He sat alone,
and