The Newgate Jig Read Online Free PDF

and
putting it down. What would you do then?'
    We hurried out of the
door and, though I never looked back, I could swear that she watched us until
we turned the corner, and we did not stop, not even to smell the freshly baked
pies at Mrs Quilter's shop. Only when we heard the roar of voices and a rosy
glow lit up the street, did we slacken our pace, for it announced the nearness
of the Cheshire Cheese. And Mrs Gifford was at least correct in her prediction
of the auction. In the Cheese's great yard (regular host to marionette and
theatre shows) was raised a gaily lit canvas booth, inside which was a platform
and seats, crowded to the rafters with people eager to be parted from their
pennies and shillings in exchange for 'handsome parcels of beef (unfit for
dogs) and 'handsome clocks and watches' (unfit for timekeeping), which Harris
the Hawker, as he was popularly known, and his cohort of street-wise assistants
were selling 'from the plank'.
    The Cheese was low in
all respects. It stood at the corner of a low street in a low neighbourhood.
Many of its ceilings were so low that they required a man to stoop all the way
to his seat or risk bruising his head on the beams, which were old and knotty,
just like the assortment of benches and tables which might have been dragged
from both dining rooms and barracks, so ill-matched were they. It was very old,
I believe, and Drinkwater, the landlord, liked to boast about Shakespeare and
Julius Caesar having sat in its best room and carved their initials on his oak
settle, and took pride in showing them to visitors, who felt obliged to be
impressed. But the Cheshire Cheese itself, though low, is not a bad place, and
when we meet, Trimmer, Will Lovegrove and I, we take ourselves to a corner of
the remotest room in the house and there enjoy our supper of bread and cheese
and a glass of the best. I am not a drinking man, but I enjoy the company of my
friends and so I am willing to put up with the little discomforts of heat and
fug. And Brutus and Nero, of course, were happy in any place as long as they
found kind, affectionate friends! They were eager to find Trimmer and Will
Lovegrove, then, and it was not difficult to do, for they sat in our usual
corner with a jar each and one ready for me, and the plate of bread and cheese
on the table before them. Only it stood uneaten, the cheese sweating in the
heat and the doorsteps of bread drying to stone. And my two friends like statues
themselves, in attitudes of silent anxiety, were only slightly relieved when
Brutus and Nero, tails a-wagging with joy, demanded their customary attention.
Will Lovegrove clapped my shoulder and shook my hand.
    'Ah! Bob Chapman. A
good evening to you - and to Brutus and Nero, of course! Come and join us, and
see if you can relieve poor Trim here of his worries. If you are unable to, I
very much fear that they will consume him completely and that, alas, we will be
forced to carry him home in pieces, so broken is he by his fretting! Haroo!'
    Will Lovegrove, leading
actor at the Pavilion, sometimes found it difficult to leave his dramatic roles
in the theatre. He was a fine William Braveheart and John Masterman, a roguish
Captain Freestaff and Mynheer Deepson, and did Trim much good service in the
representation of his highwaymen and pirates. Jack Blackwood, a heroic
gentleman of the road, was cheered on - and off - the stage for months, and as
tall, handsome Ruggantino, the Spanish Pirate, had many young women lingering
at the theatre door and their men threatening to fight him! But Will was a
good soul, as brave as those heroes he represented, and with such a fine figure
he had no need of PFCs (padded false calves, which are shoved down the legs of
their stockings by less shapely actors) and wore his own dark hair long and
curling about his shoulders. Will Lovegrove was probably the most handsome man
I had ever seen and certainly, Trim and I, being just everyday lookers, had
reason to be envious when Lovegrove turned