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Updated: April 30, 2025
It may be proper here to add, that although Tom Swiggs could not enter into the repentant woman's designs, having arranged with his employer to sail for London in a few days, she learned of him something that reflected a little more light in her path.
"I won't hear a word now! You're very aggravating, young man-very! He has disgraced the family; I have put him where he is seven times; he shall rot were he is! He never shall disgrace the family again. Think of Sir Sunderland Swiggs, and then think of him, and see what a pretty level the family has come to! That's the place for him. I have told him a dozen times how I wished him gone.
"Madame Flamingo!" ejaculates the man, grasping her hand. "Tom Swiggs!" exclaims the woman, burying her face for a second, then pressing his hand to her lips, and kissing it with the fondness of a child, as her eyes swim in tears. "How strange to find you thus " continues Tom, for truly it is he who sits by the forlorn woman.
He's sure a gittin' kicked out when he is down." "He's here, and we must get him to a cell," says the jailer, setting his key down and preparing to lift the man on his feet. "Look a here, Tom Swiggs, in here again, eh?" resumes the man in the red shirt. "Looks as if you liked the institution. Nice son of a respectable mother, you is!" He stoops down and shakes the prostrate man violently.
"That it is, Marm," returns the methodical hack-driver, "he an't got a very big head, our corporation." And Lady Swiggs, deprived of her carpet-bag and band-box, and considerably out of patience, is rolled away to the mansion of Sister Slocum, on Fourth Avenue.
Had Lady Swiggs inquired into the character of the purchaser of old Dolly she might now have become conscious of the fact, that whatever comes of evil seldom does good. The money she had so struggled to get together to aid her in maintaining her hypocrisy, was the result of crime.
The young man, without waiting for an invitation to sit down, takes nervously a seat at the side-table, saying he has come on a mission of love. "Love! love! eh? Young man know that you have got into the wrong house!" Mrs. Swiggs shakes her head, squeaking out with great animation.
As for her knowledge of scripture, it is truly wonderful, and a decided improvement when contrasted with the meagre set-out of her table. Tea time having arrived, Lady Swiggs is invited down to a cup by a pert Irish servant, who accosts her with an independence she by no means approves.
"Kindly proceed-proceed," she says, twitching at her cap strings, as if impatient to get the sequel. "Well, as to that, being a member of the St. "Thank you-thank you. O thank you, Mr. Soloman!" she rejoins. "Why, Madam, I feel all my veneration getting into my head at once when I refer to the name of Sir Sunderland Swiggs." "But pray what came of the young Baronet?"
"No, you don't know me: you never knew me when I was a man," speaks the stranger, raising his hat, as a smile lights up his features. "You don't know Tom Swiggs, the miserable inebriate " A spontaneous shout of recognition, echoing and reechoing through the old halls, interrupts this declaration.
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