BAL-loon say, and swing. FOUR ladies meet in ′um middle, FOUR gents goes round ′um ladies, FOUR gents passes out under ′um ladies′ arms, SWING—and Lemonade till ′a moosic can′t play no more! (Hoy, Hoy!)′
The male dancers were all blacks, and one was an unusually powerful man of six feet three or four. The sound of their flat feet on the floor was as unlike the sound of white feet as their faces were unlike white faces. They toed and heeled, shuffled, double- shuffled, double-double-shuffled, covered the buckle, and beat the time out, rarely, dancing with a great show of teeth, and with a childish good-humoured enjoyment that was very prepossessing. They generally kept together, these poor fellows, said Mr. Superintendent, because they were at a disadvantage singly, and liable to slights in the neighbouring streets. But, if I were Light Jack, I should be very slow to interfere oppressively with Dark Jack, for, whenever I have had to do with him I have found him a simple and a gentle fellow. Bearing this in mind, I asked his friendly permission to leave him restoration of beer, in wishing him good night, and thus it fell out that the last words I heard him say as I blundered down the worn stairs, were, ′Jebblem′s elth! Ladies drinks fust!′
The night was now well on into the morning, but, for miles and hours we explored a strange world, where nobody ever goes to bed, but everybody is eternally sitting up, waiting for Jack. This exploration was among a labyrinth of dismal courts and blind alleys, called Entries, kept in wonderful order by the police, and in much better order than by the corporation: the want of gaslight in the most dangerous and infamous of these places being quite unworthy of so spirited a town. I need describe but two or three of the houses in which Jack was waited for as specimens of the rest. Many we attained by noisome passages so profoundly dark that we felt our way with our hands. Not one of the whole number we visited, was without its show of prints and ornamental crockery; the quantity of the latter set forth on little shelves and in little cases, in otherwise wretched rooms, indicating that Mercantile Jack must have an extraordinary fondness for crockery, to necessitate so much of that bait in his traps.
Among such garniture, in one front parlour in the dead of the night, four women were sitting by a fire. One of them had a male child in her arms. On a stool among them was a swarthy youth with a guitar, who had evidently stopped playing when our footsteps were heard.
′Well I how do YOU do?′ says Mr. Superintendent, looking about him.
′Pretty well, sir, and hope you gentlemen are going to treat us ladies, now you have come to see us.′
′Order there!′ says Sharpeye.
′None of that!′ says Quickear.
Trampfoot, outside, is heard to confide to himself, ′Meggisson′s lot this is. And a bad ′un!′
′Well!′ says Mr. Superintendent, laying his hand on the shoulder of the swarthy youth, ′and who′s this?′
′Antonio, sir.′
′And what does HE do here?′
′Come to give us a bit of music. No harm in that, I suppose?′
′A young foreign sailor?′
′Yes. He′s a Spaniard. You′re a Spaniard, ain′t you, Antonio?′
′Me Spanish.′
′And he don′t know a word you say, not he; not if you was to talk to him till doomsday.
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