THE SEAMY SIDE.

Hokitika Guardian, 6 February 1926, Page 4

THE SEAMY SIDE.

TALES TOLD’TO 'THE MAGISTRATE AN IRISHWOMAN’S GRIEVANCE. (By R. E. Corder in “Daily Mail.”) Personality and an Irish accent enabled Mrs Julia Barnett, a war widow, to dominate Clerkenwell Police Courtyesterday. She was largo and she was voluble, and sho had the Irish gift of turning a charge into a grievance. Her offence was deserting her child, and the St. Patterns Guardians, in their innocence, summoned Julia with the object of making her repay the money expended. The case originally came on n fortnight ago and it was adjourned to enable her to meet the guardians. But not' only did she refuse to meet the guardians but she declined to appear at court until she was brought in yesterday by a constable who seemed dissatisfied with life. Julia walked into the dock with the air of Cleopatra ascending her throne. Leaning over the rails she surveyed the court with placid dignity and listened with queenly tolerance to the opening sentences of the solicitor to the guardians, who announced that sho was a war widow with a pensions of 26s 8d a week and that she also dealt in flowers. At this point Julia took charge of the proceedings, and for fifteen minutes she ruled the court like a despotic queen ordering her slaves. “It’s a war widow I am,” she thundered, her arms akimbo, and all the grievances of Ireland welling to her lips. “I shall take the child out after Christmas, and not a day before. And a. word or two T want to say against the guardians, with their cold tea. and their cold hearts, and me a- war widow.” “You are so Irish and you talk so fast. T can't understand a word you say,” petulantly observed Air Bingley. the magistrate. ‘'You had hotter come round to the witness-liox.” “Sure and I will do that,” said Julia, stalking majestically from the dock. “And is it Irish you call me? Can I help being Irish? Did I have the choice of my birthplace?”

“My good woman, T am trying to help von: don’t get angry,” pleaded the magistrate. “Angry is it.?” stormed Julia, shaking a quivering forefinger at the Bench. “And why should I not be nngrv? I have no home, because- the landlord wants more money than there is in ihe world for his rent. And it’s me who lias lived with the guardians, and them giving watches and chains to people from Newcastle and Routhnmn-t-oii, and to their own folk in the narish tliev give cold tea. Irish ye call me? Let mo toll you ”

“My good woman, 1 only want to understand you,” urged ATr Bingley. “T’ll make you understand me.” declared Julia, settling herself in the wit-ness-liox. “Here T am, a war widow, at the mercy of the guardians. May the Lord forgive them !”

“She seems to have a grievance against the guardians," observed the magistrate to the solicitor. “Just so.” said (he solicitor, rising with reluctance. “Now tell me, Mrs Barnett, is it not a fact you have, been prosecuted before?”

“Don’t be afraid to tell me.” encouraged Mr Bingley. “Afraid, is it?" roared Julia. “Av course I was prosecuted lor neglecting my children, and me a war widow, and did I not pay tho guardians 5s a week? And not another penny will they get out of mo till after Christmas.” “T think we had better adjourn tbo case until after Christmas. That is the

season that settles most difficulties,” suggested Air Bingley. “I agree,” said the solicitor, sitting down thankfully. And Julia, carrying off the honours of war, walked proudly out. of court, and later I saw her in the hull declaiming to a Poor Law officer, whoni she had reduced to a state of palpitating impotence. Emm a safe corner near the door the janitor surveyed the scene, and fervently lie remarked: “She shouldn’t be allowed, she shouldn't.” "I can’t keep my wife in order.” wailed a middle-aged mechanic whose landlady objected to the wife's language. “No man can control bis wife in these enlightened days.” agreed Air Bingley. “Ho certainly does his best,” remarked the landlady generously. "Hut be can’t stop her. Nobody can stop ; her. Bad language is a gift with, her.” “Well. I can't turn them out at Christmas-time,” said the magistrate. “Perhaps her better nature will respond j to the solace of I lie season.” ,

The. records ill C'lerkeinvell Police Court show that thefts from toy .stores are very numerous during the Christmas season, and private detectives are. employed to keep watch on the augmented staff. The first Christmas offender was a youth who had unhooked a bicycle from the roof and fitted if with an electric lamp taken from stock. His defence was that he had taken the bicycle to ride home to lunch, hut when he entered the witness-box .Mr Bingiey tore bis story to tatters. Not only did he possess a bicycle of bis own but lie could not explain away the electric lamp; especially ns there was no fog. His lather, who bad held an unsmirehed character for lo years, felt ibis' position much more keenly than the hoy in the dock, who was remanded for a week in custody. When he comes out he will be taken in band by Mr Watts, the court missionary, who comforted the stricken father at the request of the magistrate.

Straight from the Foiled States comes a plump, round-faced man. wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and chewing gum. A constable said of him: “I found bim very’ drunk, leaning over some railings, saying he had drunk all the beer there was.” “I’m verv sorry,” said the man from the Dili ted Sates. “I bad only just arrived in this country, and T just let myself loose among the beer. I can’t just remember wliat happened, judge, but. believe me, it was some jag.” “Five shillings,” said Mr Bingiey. “That will be a dollar,” said the American.

A pretty girl wearing, among other things, a fleecy shawl held up the traffic in Euston-rond. N.W., while she tried to perform an operation on her wrist with a penknife. It was not. however, a ease of attempted suicide. Having drunk more port than was good for her, she sought to arouse a constable’s sympathy by cutting her wrist. She paid the doctor’s fee and left all smiles and blushes.

“Four times I warned him not to sing, and four times he sang,” said a voting police inn n, alluding to a melan-choly-looking labourer. “He stood in the middle of the tramway lines singing at the top of His voice, and what with his singing and the drivers ringing their bells the noise was terrible. “Must have been.”' agreed Mr Bingiey. fixing the price of the concert at 7s tlcl.