"
I was pleased to find that Jack knew a good argument when he heard
it, so I rewarded his intelligence with another glass of brandy, and
asked him if he had been long in the colonies. He said:
"My name's not Jack; that's what they call me, but it doesn't matter
what my name is. I was brought up in Liverpool, but I wasn't born
there; that doesn't matter either. I used to work at the docks, was
living quite respectable, was married and had a little son about five
years old. One night after I had had supper and washed myself, I
said to th' missus, 'There's a peep-show i' Tithebarn Street, and if
you'll wash Bobby's face I'll tek him there; its nobbut a penny.'
You know it was one o' them shows where they hev pictures behind a
piece o' calico, Paul Pry with his umbrella, Daniel i' th' lions'
den, ducks swimming across a river, a giantess who was a man shaved
and dressed in women's clothes, a dog wi' five legs, and a stuffed
mermaid--just what little lads would like. There was a man,
besides, who played on a flute, and another singing funny songs. When
I went outside into the street there was little Billy Yates, as used
to play with Bobby, so I says, 'Come along, Billy, and I'll tek thee
to the show.' When we got there we set down on a bench, and, just as
they began to show th' pictures, three black-fellows came in and set
down on th' bench before us.
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