A MAN OF THE PEOPLE.

Greymouth Evening Star, Volume XXXI, 6 July 1901, Page 3

A MAN OF THE PEOPLE.

Thus John Burns, M.P.I come home from the House of Commons through the south-west of London. As I come along the kindly policemen—more kindly than men of his cloth used to be—says, “ Good night, John.” The reply goes back, “Good night, constable. The prema-turely-old watchman, to whom the Council’s charter of labour has given a decent lot in life, says, as he leans upon his stick close to his coke fire, trimming his lamps, “ Good night, Jolm; you are greyer than when I worked at with you.” As I pass along from street to street in the dark watches of the night the wanton woman of the streets, on whom the light falls, says “ Goodnight Mr Burns,” add I reply, “ Goodnight my girl.” On I go, and pass the poverty-stricken woman, who, perhaps being unable to earn the necessaries of life, has snatched at the loaf of lust, telling some tale of woe to a policeman. And then on the bridges—the County Council bridges. There, harboured in the recesses, I see boys “ hooligans,” they call them—l see the lads, the victims of a bad environment, more sinned against than sinning, huddled up in the corners, and some of them plead, “ Give me a penny, Mr Burns, to buy a cup of coffee.” All the human dere icts, these moral undesirables are the victims of money, monopoly or neglect. Then I think and think, with the enormous city stretching far away, of the problem, the remedies to be applied on the morrow, either in the House of Commons or the County Council Chamber —or anywhere else. There, in suffering London town, is my incentive to work.