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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"Alton Locke, Tailor and Poet An Autobiography"


We entered Mackaye's door; strangely enough at that time of night, it stood
wide open. What could be the matter? I heard loud voices in the inner room,
and ran forward calling his name, when, to my astonishment, out past me
rushed a tall man, followed by a steaming kettle, which, missing him, took
full effect on Kelly's chest as he stood in the entry, filling his shoes
with boiling water, and producing a roar that might have been heard at
Temple Bar.
"What's the matter?"
"Have I hit him?" said the old man, in a state of unusual excitement.
"Bedad! it was the man Power! the cursed spy! An' just as I was going to
slate the villain nately, came the kittle, and kilt me all over!"
"Power? He's as many names as a pickpocket, and as many callings, too, I'll
warrant. He came sneaking in to tell me the sogers were a' ready to gie up
their arms if I'd come forward to them to-morrow. So I tauld him, sin' he
was so sure o't, he'd better gang and tak the arms himsel; an' then he let
out he'd been a policeman--"
"A policeman!" said both Crossthwaite and Kelly, with strong expletives.


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