THE MINOR MISERY OF LONDON

Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 1693, 22 October 1887, Page 3

THE MINOR MISERY OF LONDON

(" The Pali Mall Gazette.") When they told me at the ' railway station that the last train to the suburb where I lived had gone, I determined, mindful of the pleasures of night-wander-ing In Parie, to eeek shelter m no hotel, but to see what sights the streets of the sleeping city might afford. it lay m the gntter of that narrow street there, where any passing cab, or yonder fruit-laden dray might, without olame to the driver, have crushed Its life cut. It waa a little child, so light mmy hand as I picked it up, thit for a moment I wondered whether it was Indeed a living thing. Had It learned at so early an age to suffer and ba still ? It seemed ■o, for it made no cry. Not an abandoned babe, moreover; for there coiled up asleep In a doorway, lay Its mother. The child bad dropped from her relaxing arms and had rolled into tb.6 kennel. In the Strand, now vaoant of all traffic, save of the walking lepers of the street, insolent grown since a riqued police ourtalls not their so repulsive aggressions. « Our new Instructions bids us leave them alone,' says a constable to me; 'and very glad we are to be relieved of the trouble of chivvying them about,' There Is that danger In applying the rebuke of Talleyrand—that he to whom you forbid overzeal will sink m oomplete Inaction.

In every doorway of the side-streets of the thoroughfare single misery has taken refoge. M aery In company is here In Trafalgar equare. L curk us sight, indeed, this ' finett site,' as I then saw it It was all dark, with a conchant mob of homeless vagabonds taking their rest on the stones. Not all m rags there, mnch black coated misery was there, Sooh was he who presently tells me he was a City clerk, and who to judge from his tongue and manner, m«y indeed have once done clerkly work. His pillow is a "Daily Telegraph." This paper bedding affords a curious study. Most have such furniture to their resting places, and as I walk round I take notice what papers are most m use. The " TCcbo" pillows most of those who are m rags. Black-coated misery takes It bed fittings from the Conservative prets. One is a starving and homeless outcast, bat one respects the institutions of one's country. Four hundred sleepers, men and women, promiscuously tide by side, I couni m the shadows of the finest hotels of the world. Bigh up on hlB column stands over all one who spoke onoo of England and her expectation. That lour hundred men and wome and their ohildren ahould thus be flung on the pavement — starving abandoned, m the very heart and centre of the luxury of the world— who has failed m bis doty? Far off gleams the light high up that tell us that the people of England are even now being cared for. Her Majesty's Commons are at work, and provision is being made for the commonwealth. It is a sorry beaoon, seen from a sorry sea< Back to Ooyent garden, where more misery is to be seen. No sleepers here, but men standing shivering under arohes — a mother yonder muooblng some gar* bage picked from the refuse of the street. Hunger In the centre of tho plethora o f London ! But one lives by contrast, and society loves the antithesis. ' A penny sir, for a oup of ooffee. It's terribly cold.' How often do I hear the words as ' I paea a now open ocffee-taise, filled with prosperous market men ! ' Can one get soup anywhere here !' 'No clr — coffee, I oocoa, and ginger beer.' Are there no soup kitchens open now 1 ' They don't have none, save m the winter.' Is it true one is hungry m the wlntor only ; ' the other nine montha one is not, or '' should not be. In Paris one can always ! and at any hour buy for one penny a good bowl of soup, nourishing and comforting Often at the Halles, where chiefly the soup merchants ply their trades, have I thus breakfasted. It is infinitely better than ooffee, tea or ooooa, and It is a matter of wonder that the minor industries of London do not number eoup-etalls. In Paris these pay very well, and are greatly appreciated by the customers for whom they oater. As the day dawns I am baok m Trafalgar square, where the silent reveille of a cold wind bas awakened the sleepers. Some are sitting staring at the world ; othors are oocupied over their sad toilets : a | woman there with a needle and thread ; • man hero with a tooth brush and the water of the fountain— it is my ex-Olty clerk. To what another day are those arising ? As I stand on Westminster Bridge, the thought of that line comes to me whloh speaks of the lying still of all this mighty heart. Lie still, the warmly bedded and well-fed. As for the other 1 Well for tuem Still there cling* The old qoeittoo ; WW pot God do