Catharines Peril, or The Little Russian Girl Lost in a Forest | Page 6

to survey my fellow-travellers. Immediately opposite to me sat two
dandies of the first water, dressed in white greatcoats and Belcher
handkerchiefs, and each with a cigar in his mouth, which he puffed
away with marvellous self-complacency. Beside me sat a modest and
comely young woman in a widow's dress, and with an infant about nine
months old in her arms. The appearance of this youthful mourner and
her baby indicated that they belonged to the working class of society;
and though the dandies occasionally cast a rude glance at the mother,
the look of calm and settled sorrow which she invariably at such times
cast upon her child seemed to touch even them, and to disarm their
coarseness. On the other side of the widow sat a young gentleman of
plain yet prepossessing exterior, who seemed especially to attract the
notice of the dandies. His surtout was not absolutely threadbare, but it
had evidently seen more than one season; and I could perceive many

contemptuous looks thrown upon it by the gentlemen in the Belcher
handkerchiefs. The young gentleman carried a small portmanteau in his
hand, so small, indeed, that it could not possibly have contained more
than a change of linen. This article also appeared to arrest the eyes of
the sprigs of fashion opposite, whose wardrobes, in all probability,
were more voluminous: whether they were paid for or not, might be
another question.
The coach having stopped at the village of Corstorphine, for the
purpose of taking up an inside passenger, the guard, observing that the
young gentleman carried his portmanteau in his hand, asked leave to
put it into the boot, to which he immediately assented. 'Put it fairly in
the centre, guard,' said one of the dandies. 'Why so, Tom?' inquired his
companion. 'It may capsize the coach,' rejoined the first,--a sally at
which both indulged in a burst of laughter, but of which the owner of
the portmanteau, though the blood mounted slightly into his cheek,
took no notice whatever.
The morning being fine at our first setting out, the ride was peculiarly
pleasant. The dandies talked of horses and dogs, and fowling-pieces
and percussion-caps, every now and then mentioning the names of Lord
John and Sir Harry, as if their acquaintance lay among the great ones of
the land. Once or twice I thought I saw an expression of contempt in
the countenance of the young gentleman in the surtout, but in this I
might be mistaken. His attention was evidently most directed to the
mourner beside him, with whom he appeared anxious to get into
conversation, but to lack for a time a favourable opportunity.
While we were changing horses at the little village of Uphall, an aged
beggar approached, and held out his hat for alms. The dandies looked at
him with scorn. I gave him a few halfpence; and the young widow,
poor as she seemed, was about to do the same, when the young
gentleman in the surtout laid his hand gently on her arm, and dropping
a half-crown into the beggar's hat, made a sign for him to depart. The
dandies looked at each other. 'Showing off, Jack,' said the one. 'Ay, ay,
successful at our last benefit, you know,' rejoined the other; and both
again burst into a horse laugh. At this allusion to his supposed

profession, the blood again mounted into the young gentleman's cheek;
but it was only for a moment, and he continued silent.
We had not left Uphall many miles behind us, when the wind began to
rise, and the gathering clouds indicated an approaching shower. The
dandies began to prepare their umbrellas; and the young gentleman in
the surtout, surveying the dress of the widow, and perceiving that she
was but indifferently provided against a change of weather, inquired of
the guard if the coach was full inside. Being answered in the
affirmative, he addressed the mourner in a tone of sympathy, told her
that there was every appearance of a smart shower, expressed his regret
that she could not be taken into the coach, and concluded by offering
her the use of his cloak. 'It will protect you so far,' said he, 'and, at all
events, it will protect the baby.' The widow thanked him in a modest
and respectful manner, and said that for the sake of her infant she
should be glad to have the cloak, if he would not suffer from the want
of it himself. He assured her that he should not, being accustomed to all
kinds of weather. 'His surtout won't spoil,' said one of the dandies, in a
voice of affected tenderness; 'and besides, my dear, the cloak will hold
you both.' The widow blushed; and the young gentleman, turning
quickly round, addressed the speaker in a