Rivers of Ice | Page 5

of that barrel was took off, lookin' out of
the straw in which they was packed like two little cheruphims, though
they did smell strong of the double X, and was a little elevated because
of the fumes that 'ung about the wood. But how do you come to know
all this, sir, and why do you ask?"
"Excuse me, ma'am," replied the sailor with a smile, which curled up
his huge moustache expressively,--"you shall know presently, but I
must make quite sure that I'm aboard of--that is to say, that you are the

right 'ooman. May I ask, ma'am, what became of these two cheruphims,
as you've very properly named 'em?"
"Certainly," answered Mrs Roby, "the elder boy--we considered him
the elder, because he was the first took out of the barrel--was a
stoodious lad, and clever. He got into a railway company, I believe, and
became a rich man--married a lady, I'm told,--and changed his name to
Stoutley, so 'tis said, not thinkin' his right name suitable to his
circumstances, which, to say truth, it wasn't, because he was very thin.
I've heard it said that his family was extravagant, and that he went to
California to seek his brother, and look after some property, and died
there, but I'm not rightly sure, for he was a close boy, and latterly I lost
all knowledge of him and his family."
"And the other cheruphim, Willum," said the sailor, "what of him?"
"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs Roby, a flush suffusing her wrinkled countenance,
while her black eyes twinkled more than usual, "he was a jewel, he was.
They said in the hospital that he was a wild good-for-nothing boy, but I
never thought him so. He was always fond of me--very fond of me, and
I of him. It is true he could never settle to anythink, and at last ran away
to sea, when about twelve year old; but he didn't remain long at that
either, for when he got to California, he left his ship, and was not heard
of for a long time after that. I thought he was dead or drowned, but at
last I got a letter from him, enclosing money, an' saying he had been up
at the noo gold-diggings, an' had been lucky, dear boy, and he wanted
to share his luck with me, an would never, never, forget me; but he
didn't need to send me money to prove that. He has continued to send
me a little every year since then;--ah! it's many, many years now,--ay,
ay, many years."
She sighed, and looked wistfully at the spark of fire in the grate that
was making ineffectual attempts to boil the little tea-kettle with the
defiant spout; "but why," she continued, looking up suddenly, "why do
you ask about him?"
"Because I knew him," replied Captain Wopper, searching for
something which appeared to be lost in the depths of one of his

capacious pockets. "Willum Stout was a chum of mine. We worked
together at the Californy gold-mines for many a year as partners, and,
when at last we'd made what we thought enough, we gave it up an'
came down to San Francisco together, an' set up a hotel, under the
name of the `Jolly Tars,' by Stout and Company. I was the Company,
ma'am; an', for the matter o' that I may say I was the Stout too, for both
of us answered to the Stout or the Company, accordin' as we was
addressed, d'ee see? When Company thought he'd made enough money
to entitle him to a holiday, he came home, as you see; but before leavin',
Willum said to him, `Company, my lad, w'en you get home, you'll go
and see that old 'oom of the name of Roby, whom I've often told you
about. She lives in Lunun, somewheres down by the river in a place
called Grubb's Court. She was very good to me, that old 'oom was,
when she was young, as I've told you before. You go an' give her my
blessin'--Willum's blessin'--and this here bag and that there letter.'
`Yes,' says I, `Willum, I'll do it, my boy, as soon as ever I set futt on
British soil.' I did set futt on British soil this morning, and there's the
letter; also the bag; so, you see, old lady, I've kep' my promise."
Captain Wopper concluded by placing a small but heavy canvas bag,
and a much-soiled letter, in Mrs Roby's lap.
To say that the little old woman seized the letter with eager delight,
would convey but a faint idea of her feelings as she opened it with
trembling hands, and read it with her bright black eyes.
She read it half aloud, mingled with commentary, as she proceeded,
and once or twice came