The String of Pearls (1850), p. 158

CHAPTER XXXI.

SHOWS HOW TOBIAS GOT TO LONDON.

We will now take a peep at Tobias. On—on—on—like the wind, went the poor belated boy from the vicinity of that frightful prison-house at Peckham. Terror was behind him—terror with dishevelled locks was upon his right hand, and terror shrieking in his ear was upon his left. On—on, he flew like a whirlwind. Alas, poor Tobias, will your young intellects yet stand these trials? We shall see! Through the deep mud of the Surrey roads—past pedestrians—past horsemen, and past coaches flew poor Tobias, onÔon. He had but one thought, and that was to place miles and miles of space between him and Mr. Fogg's establishment. The perspiration poured down his face—his knees shook under him—his heart beat as though in some wild pulsation it would burst, but he passed on until he saw afar off the old Bridge of London. The route to Blackfriars he had by some chance avoided. Many, who for the last two miles of Tobias's progress, had seen him, had tried to stop him. They had called after him, but he had heeded them not. Some fast runners had pursued him for a short distance, and then given up the chase in despair. He reached the bridge.
"Stop that boy!" cried a man, " he looks mad!"
"No—no," shrieked Tobias, "I am not mad! I am not mad!"
A man held out his arms to stop him, but Tobias dashed past him like a flash of lightning, and was off again.
"Stop him!" cried twenty voices. "Stop thief!" shouted some who could not conceive that anybody was to be stopped on any other account.
"No, no," gasped Tobias, as he flew onwards—"not mad, not mad!"
His feet failed him. He reeled a few more paces like a drunken man, and then fell heavily upon some stone steps, where he lay bathed in perspiration. Blood too gushed from his mouth. A gentleman's horse was standing at the door, and the man came out to mount him at that moment, and he saw the rapidly collecting crowd. With the reins of his steed in his hand, he pushed his way through the mob, saying—
"What is it? what is it?"
"A mad boy, sir," said some. "Only look at him. Did you ever see the like. He looks as if he had run a hundred miles."
"Good God!" cried the gentleman. "It is he! It is he.'"
"Who, sir? who, sir?"
"A poor lad that I know, I will take charge of him. My name is Jeffery, I am Colonel Jeffery. A couple of guineas to any strong man who will carry him to the nearest surgeon's. Alas! poor boy, what a state is this to meet him in."
It was quite astonishing the numbers of strong men that there were all of a sudden m the crowd, who were each anxious and willing to earn the colonel's two guineas. There was danger of a fight arising upon the subject, when one man, after knocking down two others and threatening the remainder, stepped up, and
lifting Tobias as though he had been an infant, exclaimed—
"Ale does it! ale does it! Come on, my little 'un."
All gave way before the gigantic proportions of no other than our old friend Big Ben the Beef Eater, who, as chance would have it, was upon the spot, and who, without a thought of the colonel's two guineas, only heard that a poor sick boy had to be carried to the nearest medical man. Tobias could not be in better hands than Ben's, for the latter carried him much more carefully than ever nursemaid carried a child out of sight of its mother.
"Follow me," said Colonel Jeffery, as he saw in the distance a party-coloured lamp, whieh hung over a door appertaining to a chemist. "Follow, and I will reward you."
"Doesn't want it," said Ben. "It's ale as does it."