The Black-Sealed Letter

The Black-Sealed Letter

The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Black-Sealed Letter, by Andrew
Learmont Spedon
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Title: The Black-Sealed Letter Or, The Misfortunes of a Canadian
Cockney.
Author: Andrew Learmont Spedon

Release Date: June 6, 2006 [eBook #18514]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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12

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