EVENINGS AT OWEN SWIFTS 137 



men often are, a hard liver. He would not have his 

 clothes off, except occasionally to change them, for a 

 week at a time, seldom getting into bed at all during 

 that period, except on Sunday. He used to dine out, 

 and after partaking liberally of wine and spirits, would 

 return home about three in the morning, and retire to 

 his cellar, and there finish a bottle of gin palatably diluted 

 with water. Then, after a refreshing wash, he would be- 

 take himself to business. This kind of life he carried on 

 with little variation for several years ; though he did not 

 live very long, thus fully confirming the adage that ' it is 

 the pace that kills.' 



In the later part of his life the nephew often went 

 with him, and thus no doubt acquired a taste for good 

 living, fast life, and late hours, which he retained until 

 he left business altogether. In his time, Owen Swift 

 was in his heyday at the Horse Shoe, Tichborne Street, 

 which, like other familiar places, has since been improved 

 off the face of the earth. This was Mr. Parker's nightly 

 resort, where he had his brandy and soda or other stimu- 

 lant with his old chums. Here he would meet Tass 

 Parker (one of the fancy, and no relative) ; Mr. Dale, a 

 very good fellow ; Dick Forester, in the police force ; and 

 about a score of the same sort. They would break up 

 about two o'clock in the morning ; and it was a rare 

 occurrence if they left without having a fight. And yet, 

 from habit, Mr. Parker, as I have said, was seldom late 

 at his business. 



It was here that the following incident occurred: A 

 nephew of Parker's, a Mr. Upton, used, like his uncle, 

 to spend an hour or two most nights in the bar-parlour 

 of the Horse Shoe. A gentlemanly stranger, well dressed 

 in black, joined the group one evening, and, seating him- 

 self by Upton's side, entered into conversation with 



