The People of the Abyss

I shall not give you the address of Johnny Upright. Let it suffice that he lives in the mostrespectable street in the East End-a street that would be considered very mean in America, but averitable oasis in the desert of East London. It is surrounded on every side by close-packed squalorand streets jammed by a young and vile and dirty generation; but its own pavements arecomparatively bare of the children who have no other place to play, while it has an air of desertion, so few are the people that come and go.Each house in this street, as in all the streets, is shoulder to shoulder with its neighbours. To eachhouse there is but one entrance, the front door; and each house is about eighteen feet wide, with abit of a brick-walled yard behind, where, when it is not raining, one may look at a slate-coloured sky.But it must be understood that this is East End opulence we are now considering. Some of thepeople in this street are even so well-to-do as to keep a "slavey." Johnny Upright keeps one, as I wellknow, she being my first acquaintance in this particular portion of the world.To Johnny Upright's house I came, and to the door came the "slavey." Now, mark you, herposition in life was pitiable and contemptible, but it was with pity and contempt that she looked atme. She evinced a plain desire that our conversation should be short. It was Sunday, and JohnnyUpright was not at home, and that was all there was to it. But I lingered, discussing whether or not itwas all there was to it, till Mrs. Johnny Upright was attracted to the door, where she scolded the girlfor not having closed it before turning her attention to me.No, Mr. Johnny Upright was not at home, and further, he saw nobody on Sunday. It is too bad, said I. Was I looking for work? No, quite the contrary; in fact, I had come to see Johnny Upright onbusiness which might be profitable to him.A change came over the face of things at once. The gentleman in question was at church, butwould be home in an hour or thereabouts, when no doubt he could be seen.Would I kindly step in?-no, the lady did not ask me, though I fished for an invitation by statingthat I would go down to the corner and wait in a public-house. And down to the corner I went, but, it being church time, the "pub" was closed. A miserable drizzle was falling, and, in lieu of better, Itook a seat on a neighbourly doorstep and wait