THE LILY OF THE ALLEY.
IN TWO CHAPTERS.

CHAPTER I.-A LOST TREASURE.

'WHAT'S the matter? What's the matter?' cried a stout, ruddy, white-haired old gentleman, as he shouldered his way through the circumference of a small human circle, from the centre of which towered a policeman's helmet.

'What's the matter, policeman, eh?' repeated the old gentleman, when he had reached the side of the stalwart constable.

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however, and was dressed neatly, and even handsomely; her white dress and white stockings seemed to be of good material, and quite new; her shoes were well made, and hardly worn at all; the semicircular comb that confined her hair might possibly be real tortoise-shell; and the necklace she occasionally lifted to her mouth and chewed reflectively, looked very like genuine coral. She just glanced at the old gentleman whom the policeman had addressed, and then turned back to her constabular friend, whom she seized by both whiskers, and asked to be taken home.

"Ah! I see lost!' said the old gentleman.

The scrutiny must have satisfied the intelligent officer that he had been accosted by one who not only paid heavy rent, rates, and taxes, and probably kept a comfortable woman-cook, but also, out of special regard and admiration for 'the force,' was likely to indulge in the pastime of 'forking out;' for he touched his helmet with his unoccupied hand, and, alluding to something he held with his other hand and arm, said, with a pleasant smile: 'It's all along of this little darlin'.

And a little darling it certainly was. A little girl, about four years old, tenderly grasped in the policeman's strong arm, was lolling carelessly over his shoulder, pulling his whiskers, and stroking his face, whilst he was holding her and coaxing her as gently as if she had been his own little daughter. She was a pale, fragile bit of a thing; but as pretty as a fairy. On her fair cheeks were two shiny traces of the tears which had only just ceased trickling from her large blue eyes; but her eyes were now laughing happily, and her lips were chirruping merrily as she nestled confidingly against her protector's brawny chest, and tipped his helmet back over his ears, and drew his hair down upon his forehead, and produced broad grins of good-humoured amusement and satisfaction upon his usually stolid countenance. She was scrupulously clean,

'Listen to this here!' replied the constable. And he proceeded to examine the little urchin. 'What's your name, dearie ?'

'Didn't I tell oo, Lily!' she answered.
'Where d' ye live, lovie?'
'In de alley, I tell oo.'

'But which alley, my darlin'? There's such a many alleys. Can't ye remember who lives there, or what they do there, or something that's took place there? Tell us something about it. What's it like, now?'

'Well, I'll tell oo. Mammy says it's just like de valley of de shadder of dess. Dere was de bad man dat lived on gin, and beat de por woman wid de poker.'

'That 'ere man lives in every alley in London,' said the constable gloomily to the old gentleman. 'It ain't no use to ask the poor little dear any more.' 'What do you propose to do with her, then?' inquired the old gentleman.

'Take her into custody, to be sure,' answered the constable; and he added, with a multitude of winks and comic contortions to enforce his irony: 'We'll run her in-that's what we'll do.'

'You'll take her to the police-station ?' said the old gentleman interrogatively.

'Ah! that's best for her,' was the answer. 'And what then?' asked the old gentleman. 'Why, we'll charge her with bein' found wanderin' in the streets without any visible means o' subsistence; and p'r'aps she'll get a month with 'ard

labour,' responded the policeman with an explosion of laughter at his own facetiousness.

'You'll take care of her,' pleaded the old gentleman gently, as he placed money in the policeman's hand: those few shillings will help to pay expenses.'

'Bless your kind 'eart, sir,' replied the constable, pocketing the gift; it'll be more than enough. My missis 'll take charge of her, and be pleased to do it. We'll 'ave bills put up, "Child found," at all the metropolitan stations, and she 'll be claimed in a trice, I know.'

And away drove the cab with its three occupants. The child almost immediately fell asleep on the decent body's lap; the old gentleman amused himself by looking out of the window; and the woman, for the first two or three hundred yards, appeared to be in a brown-study. At last she said mildly, as she touched the old gentleman's sleeve: 'I beg pardon, sir.'

'What for?' was the rejoinder.

'Well, sir, I was a-going to look in on a friend, if we had walked, as lives all in the way, just to give her a message.'

'You'll not be long, I suppose?' 'Not a minute, sir.'

'Oh! you know her, do you?' said the old gentleman with an air of relief.

'Know her!' cried the woman with a smile: 'why, she's little Lily that lives in the alley.' 'Dat's me!' screamed the child joyously-Lily what live in de alley. Take me 'ome, p'ease.'

'That I will, darling,' said the woman. 'Come along home to mammy; it's getting dark, and mammy 'll be frightened.-Give her to me, sir,' she added, turning to the policeman.

'Well, I dunnow,' observed that cautious functionary, at the same time setting down the child.'What do you say, sir?' he inquired of the old gentleman.

'She seems to be a very decent body,' rejoined the old gentleman in a low tone. 'Ask her if she can give any address.'

The woman at once produced a card, upon which there was printed information to the effect that Mrs Brown, widow, performed a number of duties, useful to the community, at No. 4 Chequers Alley, which, it appeared from the card, was situated in a well-known lane in the east end of London.

'That's a good three mile from 'ere,' grumbled the policeman. "Ow did that little creature get all this way off?'

'She got a lift in a cart or something, you may depend,' replied the woman. 'But,' she went on, bridling up, it's no favour to me to take her; I'll leave her to you, and welcome; only, as I'm a-going to the very place

I think it's very kind of you,' interrupted the old gentleman. She really seems to be a very decent body, policeman,' he added in an under

tone.

'Well, sir,' rejoined the policeman a little discontentedly, it'll cert'nly save a deal o' trouble; there's a difficulty about leavin' my beat, and'

'I'll tell you what, policeman,' broke in the old gentleman decisively: 'I'll take a cab, and go with her myself.'

'That's your ticket, sir!' exclaimed the policeman joyously; and he at once hailed a four-wheeled cab, into which he bundled the old gentleman, the decent body, and the little maid.

It was a long minute; it was a full quarter of an hour before the old gentleman grew fidgety,. left the cab, paid the driver, who had become suspicious, and declined to wait without payment, and walked down the court, which he found led into a perfect labyrinth of streets. He inquired diligently after the decent body with a child in her arms, but could get no trustworthy information; nearly everybody, decent or not, in those parts carried a child in her arms.

So he was forced, having consulted a policeman, to conclude that it was a trick, and he went home heavy at heart.

After his dinner, he sat and pondered until the night was far advanced.

Meanwhile, on either side of à deal table, drawn close to a good fire, which burned in a high grate in a squalid room of a house situated not far from Wapping, sat a man and a woman conversing and drinking from stemless wine-glasses a liquor which, if it were not neat gin, belied its colour and its smell. They both looked highly, or rather lowly respectable; for their clothes were black and dingy, but they were themselves perfectly clean, and just a cut, to speak from the worldly point of view, above piety clothed in rags, which, as we know, always commands, or ought to command, respect. In a corner of the room was a heap of straw, which heaved and rustled with regularity, as if some sleeping creature, a dog, perhaps, were rolled up in it. Close by the straw was a bundle of rags; and close by the rags was a pair of tiny boots, full of holes, short of buttons, meagre of sole. On the deal table lay a smart white frock; divers under-garments, of good texture and little wear, and child's size; a pair of stockings, just the length and breadth to fit into a neat and almost new pair of little shoes standing handy; a semicircular tortoise-shell comb, a coral necklace, and other articles. The man and woman were evidently talking about something that amused them immensely, for they frequently paused to have a good laugh.

"And he give yer ten shillings for your trouble, afore you got out o' the keb?' chuckled the man. 'As soon as ever we got in,' counter-chuckled the woman.

'So that you'd ha' been ten shillings to the good, anyways,' remarked the man

'Anyways,' assented the woman. 'But them

things 'll fetch a bit more, and the little un'll be useful herself. But she'll want to be broke in.'

"That can be done,' remarked the man grimly: 'bread and water's good for obstinate children.' 'And Mrs Whatsername's syrup for them that cry loud,' said the woman, with a sickly smile.

And these ain't bad tools,' added the man, as he laid upon the table two implements. One was a leather strap fastened to a stick; another was a supple cane,

The woman shivered slightly. 'Cold?' asked the man, observing her. "Take another drop o' this. She ought to be a fort'n to us with that hair and them eyes, and them pretty ways. When she's a-settin' on the pavement alongside of a coloured chalk pictur' of a angel, and a-repeatin' them bits of hymns, she'll fetch all the mothers. I shall just take another 'alf-pipe and

turn in.'

'All right,' said the woman, who drained her glass, and retired behind a blanket hanging from a cord.

In a short time the man also retired behind the same blanket; and in due course there was a sound as of two people snoring.

Next morning there was enacted before a British magistrate, sitting at a certain metropolitan police court, a scene such as is by no means unfamiliar to British magistrates, and to the readers of British newspapers. A poor woman in deep distress asked the worthy magistrate's advice. She had lost her child, a little girl just over four years of age. It was a simple story, which might have been told in a few seconds; but the poor woman, four years a widow, was troubled with the possession of keen feelings, which quite overcame her, and caused her to occupy a great deal of the worthy magistrate's time in trying to tell her brief tale. Two or three sympathising neighbours, women and mothers, profuse of lamentation and glib of tongue, were desirous of helping her out, but, for all their good will, rather impeded than expedited matters, and rather bewildered than enlightened the worthy magistrate. At last a police-sergeant was found, who could give a brief and intelligible account, the truth of which was to be confirmed or disputed by the poor mother.

"It's a child-stealing case, your worship,' said the sergeant.

The poor mother sobbed and nodded.

'Her name's Mrs Perks; she's a widder; she lives at Feathers Alley; she gets a living by going out as a charwoman, washerwoman, and what not. Her character's as good as gold. She went out yesterday as usual; she left her only child, a little gal, at home. The neighbours always used to keep an eye on the little gal; they all knew her. They called her the Lily o' the Alley, because she was such a pretty, delicate little thing. Nobody in the alley would have hurt a hair of her head; the drunkenest man wouldn't touch her except in the way of kindness; she'd run in and out as she pleased. When the poor woman got home last night, the little gal was gone; it's believed that she got straying about somewheres, and then couldn't find her way back. No doubt but what she's been stole; there's a gentleman here who 'll make that pretty plain.'

The sergeant stated the case in jerks, and at every jerk the poor woman sobbed and nodded

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assent. The old gentleman now came forward and gave a succinct account of what he knew. 'Have you been to this address in Chequers Alley?' asked the magistrate.

'No, sir; there has not been time yet,' replied the old gentleman. Of course, that will be the first thing to do. But I couldn't find out last night where it is.'

Of course,' assented the magistrate; and turning to the police-sergeant, he added: "You had better go with the gentleman.'

Very well, your worship,' said the sergeant; and the two started off together.

And now, my good woman,' said the magistrate, addressing the poor mother in a feeling manner, 'I fear I can give you little or no assistance. The gentlemen of the press, whom you see over there, will no doubt make your loss as public as possible. You can step into my private room with me and one of those gentlemen, and describe as minutely as possible your child's appearance and every article of dress she wore.'

Some astonishment was created when so poor a woman spoke of a 'real tortoise-shell comb' and a 'real coral necklace,' and the worthy magistrate let his surprise appear.

'O sir!' sobbed the poor mother, 'I know it must seem strange that I should have such things when I can hardly keep body and soul together; but my darling was such a fav'rite wherever she went; and I took her sometimes with me, when I was allowed, when I went to work; and two ladies that had buried little gals give my Lil-Lil-Lily some o' the things that had belonged to their own little gals; and I worked so hard to keep her nice.' And here the poor soul broke down.

And so a full description of the lost little girl's personal appearance and apparel appeared in the papers, in which it was further stated that 'the poor woman, who was much overcome, thanked the worthy magistrate for his kindness, and retired, apparently broken-hearted.'

Of how much use the description was likely to be it is possible to infer from the fact, that when Lily was taken out of the cab, she was wrapped in the decent body's shawl, and from the fact that she never afterwards wore her own things.

As to Chequers Alley, the astute sergeant's advice was that, as visits of 'the force' are seldom productive of frank and open communication in such localities, the old gentleman should go alone to the door, and make the first inquiries, whilst the sergeant remained at a convenient distance.

The old gentleman accordingly singled out from quite an assortment of bell-handles one specified on the card by its numerical position from the bottom, and gave a vigorous pull. At once there was thrust out of an upper window a face resembling that which is ascribed by certain comic artists in schoolboys' books to the moon, and a shrill voice cried: What's the matter now?'

'Mrs Brown?' said the old gentleman inquiringly. 'What then?'

The Mutiny Act is very distinct on this matter: 'On the first and on every subsequent conviction for desertion, the court-martial, in addition to any other punishment, may order the offender to be marked on the left side, two inches below the armpit, with the letter D, such letter not to be less than an inch long, and to be marked upon the skin with some ink or gunpowder, or other preparation, so as to be visible and conspicuous, and not liable to be obliterated.' The law mercifully puts the brand where ordinary clothing effectually conceals it; but the ominous D is there, nevertheless, to be appealed to as a test of identity in case of further infractions of the law. Irrespective of any idea of punishment, many sailors and soldiers have a taste for marking or tattooing, each one selecting such a device as may best please him. The mark becomes a sort of baptismal register, a sign by which relations and friends may identify him in case of need. This is usually done by pricking the skin with a needle, in as many spots as will form a letter or other device, and immediately rubbing in gunpowder finely pulverised; the part is held near the fire, and heat does the rest. One description states that the powder actually explodes, and drives an indelible mark into each puncture; but be this as it may, some stain or other, pulverescent or liquid, enters the punctures, and remains permanent.

We come next to real tattooing, a subject concerning which the available information is curious and interesting.

A doubt has arisen whether tattoo of the skin has anything to do with tattoo of a drum; but nothing further can be obtained than a similarity in the sound or spelling of the word, or both. The word tattoo, as applied to a peculiar kind of drum-beating, does not seem to belong to the French or to any other language derived from the Latin; it is of Teutonic origin. Sir James Turner, in his Pallas Armada, a treatise on military affairs (published about a century and a half ago), spells the word taptoo, and explains it as the signal for closing the sutlers' canteens in garrisons and camps. The original is supposed to have been the Dutch taptoe-tap signifying, as with us, either a spigot or an alehouse; and taptoe being equivalent to the closing of the spigot or tap. The Germans speak of zapfenstreich, the knocking or striking of the spigot into a cask; and there seems reason to believe that this was the origin of the taptoë or tattoo series of wordstapping a cask and tapping a drum. The nations of Southern Europe which derived their languages from the Latin express the beat of the drum by many curious combinations of the syllables rat, tat, tan, tar, and one or two others, such as rat-aplan, tan-tan, tar-a-pat-a-pan, ta-rap-a-tan, parapata-pan, pata-pata-pan, tap-a-rap-a-tan, tap-a-tan, tap-pa-tar, and the like. Everything tends to shew that it was quite an accidental similarity which the South Sea voyagers found to exist between two words-the native name for the puncturing of the skin, and the north European name for the tap of a drum. True, one learned man tells us that ta is the root of a whole series of words denoting to strike or to knock, in some of the Polynesian languages; but, on the other hand, tattooing is designated by a wholly different word in some of the islands where it is adopted-as we shall presently see.

When tattooing was first practised, is a doubtful

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question; but it can at anyrate be traced up to remote times. In some of the tombs near Thebes, there are painted walls representing a white race of men tattooed and clothed in skins. These are supposed to have been Thracian Europeans. Cæsar, in his Commentaries, speaks of the Britons as being tattooed; they were unquestionably stained, and not unlikely in ornate patterns. Recent travellers do not pay much attention to tattoo-marks on the persons of natives in rude or barbarous countries; but in the earlier narratives, frequently descriptions of this matter are given. In Bosman's Description of the Coast of Guinea, published in Dutch, and republished in an English form about the beginning of the last century, the author notices the tattooing of some of the west Africans. He was Chief Factor for the Dutch at the fort of St George d'Elmina-the very fort, by the way, which is just now bringing us into trouble with his barbaric Ashantee majesty. Bosman says: "They make small incisions all over the bodies of the infants, in a sort of regular manner, expressing some figure thereby; but the females are more adorned with these ornaments than the males, and each at pleasure of their parents. You may easily guess that this mangling of the bodies of those tender creatures must be very painful; but as it is the fashion here, and is thought very ornamental, it is practised by everybody. The tattooing instrument appears to be a sort of cross between a small hoe and a saw, or a hoe jagged at its sharp edge with saw-teeth. The blade is often made of a bone or shell, scraped very thin, varying from a quarter of an inch to an inch and a half in width, and having from three to twenty teeth cut in it. A black paint or stain is made, derived from the soot or charcoal of a particular kind of wood, liquefied with water or oil. The teeth of the tattooing instrument, when dipped into this paint, are placed upon the skin; and a handle to which it is attached receives smart rapid blows from a stick or thin wooden mallet suitable for the purpose. The teeth pierce the skin, and carry with them the black paint, which leaves a permanent stain.

Captain Cook, in his first voyage to the South Seas, collected the materials for that admirable account of the Otaheitans which finds its place among the classics of 'Discovery' narratives, and which tempts us so often to compare the Tahiti of our day with the Otaheite of a century ago. He did not fail to notice the corporeal adornments of the natives. "They stain their bodies by indenting or pricking the flesh with a small instrument made of bone, cut into short teeth; which indentings they fill up with a dark-blue or blackish mixture, prepared from the smoke of an oily nut, burned by them instead of candles, and water. This operation, which is called by the natives tattaowing, is exceedingly painful, and leaves an indelible mark on the skin. It is usually performed when they are about ten or twelve years of age, and on different parts of the body.' The greatest pain, he states, results from the tattooing on the lower parts of the body, from which the decoration proceeds high up in a series of crescents or arches. Mr (afterwards Sir Joseph) Banks, who accompanied Captain Cook on this memorable voyage, was on one occasion present at the tattooing of an Otaheitan girl about twelve years of age. She lay on her face. The process was performed with an instrument that