Part 30 (2/2)

”Enough said, sir.”

”It never can, however, for I shall preach but one more Sunday here.”

”And I'm very sorry for it, Mr. Jones.”

”And after this occurrence I am determined to write both sermons for the occasion, so there is sure to be nothing personal in them.”

”Yes, that is the surest way. Well, sir, you and I never had but this one little misunderstanding, and now that is explained, we shall part friends.”

”A gla.s.s of ale, Mr. Hawes?”

”I don't care if I do, sir.” (The gla.s.ses were filled and emptied.) ”I must go and look after my chickens; the justices have ordered Gillies to be flogged. You will be there, I suppose, in half an hour.”

”Well, if my attendance is not absolutely necessary--”

”We will excuse you, sir, if not convenient.”

”Thank you--good-morning!” and the reconciled officials parted.

Little Gillies was hoisted to receive twenty lashes; at the twelfth the governor ordered him down.

He broke off the tale as our magazines do, with a promise--”To be continued.”

Little Gillies, like their readers, cried out, ”No, sir. Oh, sir! please flog me to an end, and ha' done with it. I don't feel the cuts near so much now--my back seems dead like.”

Little Gillies was arguing against himself. Hawes had not divided his punishment with the view of lessening his pain. It was droll, but more sad than droll to hear the poor little fellow begging Hawes to flog him to an end, to flog him out; with similar idioms.

”Hold your [oath] noise!” Hawes shrunk with disgust from noise in his prison, and could not comprehend why the prisoners could not take their punishments without infringing upon the great and glorious silence of which the jail was the temple and he the high priest. ”The beggars get no good by kicking up a row,” argued he.

”Hold your noise!--take him to his cell!”

Whether it was because he had desecrated the temple with noise, or from the accident of having attracted the governor's attention, the weight of the system fell on this small object now.

Gillies was ordered to make a fabulous number of crank revolutions--fabulous, at least, in connection with his tender age; he was put on the lightest crank, but the lightest was heavy to thirteen years. Not being the infant Hercules, he could not perform this labor; so Hawes put him in jacket and collar almost the whole day. His young and supple frame was in his favor, but once or twice he could hardly help shamming, and then they threw half a bucket over him.

The next day he was put on the crank, and not being able to complete the task that was set him before dinner, he was strapped up until the evening. The next day the governor tried another tack. He took away his meat soup and gruel, and gave him nothing but bread and water. Strange to say, this change of diet did not supply the deficiency; he could not do the infant Hercules his work even on bread and water. Then the governor deprived the obstinate little dog of his chapel. ”If you won't work, I'm [participle] if you shall pray.” The boy missed the recreation of hearing Mr. Jones hum the Liturgy; missed it in a way you cannot conceive. Your soporific was his excitement; think of that.

Little Gillies became sadly dispirited, and weaker at the crank than before; ergo, the governor sentenced him to be fourteen days without bed or gas.

But when they took away his bed and did not light his gas little Gillies began to lose his temper; he made a great row about this last stroke of discipline. ”I won't live such a life as this,” said little Gillies, in a pet. ”Why don't the governor hang me at once?”

”What is that noise?” roared the governor, who was in the corridor and had long ears.

”It is No. 50 kicking up a row at having his bed and gas taken,” replied a turnkey, with a note of admiration in his voice.

The governor bounced into the cell. ”Are you grumbling at that, you rebellious young rascal? you forget there are a dozen lashes owing you yet.” Now the boy had not forgotten, but he hoped the governor had.

”Well, you shall have the rest to-morrow.”

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