LONDON ODDMENTS.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2150, 5 August 1907, Page 4

LONDON ODDMENTS.

(By George llaw.) Before mo, as I write, is an illustrated volumo with a titlo that suggests much roudiug, woary and otherwise. It is cftllocl ‘Tlio Histoiy of England from William I. to Edward y 11” Tho size of tho book holies the title. It is not much larger than a nostago stamp. You can road the whole of tlio contents in throe minutes. Nino whole contunos of English history como and go beforo tho mental vision in a trice. 'Tho little history was tho gilt ol a gutter merchant. Gutter merchant is not a nice liamo, but it is tlio name by which those old and kindly people aro known who sell tilings at tlio kerb in London streets. There is a time to tool for loose coppors and a tiino when not to loci for them. Olio of tlio times to leol for them is when you soo a guttor merchant plying his ' ailing porsistoistly in a. side streot about dusk. It is thou in your power to decide whether a man shah sleep in a bou tunt niglit or walk tlio streets.. 3’or when our friend turns into tho side streets —the police aro not so troublesome there —it moans lie lias bad a bad day, and dispair is coming with the night. It may not always bo inspiring when you aro making for the station to bo urged to buy bootlaces, umbrella rings, or “ivory-backed, revolving collar-studs.” Even “the little penny comic dying pig—all made to die” loses its interest when you are rushing homeward. But otir friend with tlio penny history looked so woo-begono that ono was impelled to turn back.

“No luefk to-day?” I queried. “Not a lia’portli,” lie answered. “It means no doss to-night.” Soon wo fell to talking about bis trade. Ho bought bis histories at liineponce the dozen. Ho sometimes sold as niaijy as four dozen in a day, clearing a shilling. “An’ wif a bob in me jiocket at tlio end of a day I’m a king,” he declared, triumphantly. “How a king?” I asked. “Why, fiveponcc for a doss leaves sevonpenco to spend) don’t it.?” I assented.

“Well, a man as can’t feed ’isself on sovenpence, an’ ’ave a penny to spare for ’bacea, ain’t worth his salt.”

That sounded like admirable economy ; but our friend wn.s not frugal us the world would have him be. Ho told mo'lie made a. practice of spending every penny be possessed before going to bed each light. Ho always safeguarded himself by laying in bis stock overnight for the next day’s business; but every morning be turned from bis favourite lodginghouse with nothing between him and want except the history of England. “I ain’t a relative as I knows ol' in the world,” bo added. “An’ if I were to die in the night, wot ’lid happen? Wily, the other blokes in the lodgin’-house ’ud rifle me pockets, and if they found any money, d’ye know wot they’d do wif it?” I didn’t.

“Drink it, sir. That’s what they’d do. All’ I can’t bear the thought of them drinking me health, and’ mo not- there.”