CHRISTMAS DAY IN LONDON.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8368, 26 February 1907, Page 7

CHRISTMAS DAY IN LONDON.

(jfrpm, Our London Correspondent). LONDON, January 4. Christmas Day in London! Pity the poor mortal, especially if he be a foreigner, who has to pass it there! We took a stroll through the principal streets, squares and parks, in order to be able to give you some idea of this festival in the metropolis of the world. Not the City and the West End business districts only, but the residential parts were included in our ramble. 'There is only one thought which strikes one everywhere— whsre are the people? True, som3 'buses still run, and tram 3 and trains—to about a third of their usual strength—and in those few there is no overcrowding. The tubes are practically •empty, and the weary traveller who Whistles for a cab may live to whistle another day. The London County •Council might leave the lamps unlighted, for all that they are wanted, and make it a city of darkness as well as of desolation. What a contrast to an ordinary day! Then these same streets and squares bustle with life. Cabs, 'buses, trams, 'tubes, trains on the ground and -underground, are all too few for London's needs, and the path on each •side of the crowded road is packed •with humanity, struggling in the pursuit of business or pleasure. Again—where are the peopb? A peep at the principal railway terminus any time the previous three ■or four days would give one answer to the question. Every main line ] train in and every one out, carries its full compliment of passengers visiting friends and relatives far and near, their enormous amount of baggage necessitating extra vans. Christmas is still a home festival; True, there are some who gibe at the occasion. some, to whom a Christmas tree is an unknown delight, Christmas toys things of evil. Such, if they remain in town, will foregather at the fashionable restaurant, and will remark in dismal tones, between the entree and the joint, that it will be a good thing when Christmas is over! But to the great majority, the workers, the "people," Christmas is still a home festival-a day of family re-union. And so it is that the iron horse brings in as many visitors as it takes away. We cannot follow the outward bound, but we know where to find the incomers. .

Let us take the Electric to, say, Caraberwell, and walk down the side streets. Years ago, by the way,

porters' rooms and waiting room 3, were decorated with paper-chains of many colours, and paper flags—these seem to have gone with the childish past. We can saunter at our leisure, and glance at the rooms of the houses, between the closed blindsthere is no one to say us nay. Here are decorations galore! Mistletoe and holly—the coloured paper chain, of course, is everywhere—oranges, apples, nuts, snap-dragon, happy parties, old and young, Christmas games, song and laughter! Many have come by < cheap excursion from far-off Lancashire and Yorkshire, or Somerset and Devon. There is no deserted City here! Let us take another flight, by the Electric to the City, and walk to theback streets of Whitechapel, the home of the skimmer—the land of the "farthing dip. The little shops, where one can buy evervhing from a pennyworth of sugar to a 'reel of Brook's black, have their poor attempt at decoration. There are seme people in these streets, perhaps because the streets are more comfortable than their own homes. Children dance to the tune of a barrel organ, their elders, to their sorrow (or ours?) seek solace and entertainment in the dingy public house. We walk through the empty City, past great commercial houses, which are household words tha wide world over, and which are "closed from Saturday to Thursday," past rich banks, past the Bank of England itself, its rich stores protected by & detachment of His Majesty's Household Guards, and the übiquitous constable, to the tube, which will take us Ito Marble Arch, where we can walk through Hyde Park, which we have to ourselves, to Kensington and Belgravia. In this part of London land is worth so much per square inch, for here are the town houses of the. aristocracy, the lords of many generations and the nouveaux riches. Everywhere blinds are down, and'streets deserted —the family is away. If we want to see Christmas here, we shall find it in the servants' hall. The gentleman's gentleman and the lady's lady, if not on duty elsewhere, will be keeping it up with the help, perhaps; of a retihue of servants on "board wages." But whatever jollity may be going on, no sounds reach' our ears, and as the hour is getting late we make tracks for home, . Here we, find ourselves m the midst of a merry party, into which we are thrust "nolens volens." It is just on the stroke of two, Boxing Morning, when some adventurous spirit, who has had the idea to see what thejnight is like, comes back with the report that it is! snowing hard, and the snow is already six 'inches deep. An old fashioned Christmas at last—one that does not belie the dainty Christmas card! An hour later we make up a party tc have a look at Hyde Park. On the -way, about half-an-hour's journey, we meet one drunken man and twe policemen. But what a glorious sight is here! Like a miniature forest the park is stretched before us, clad in spotless white. In a few hours,, perhaps, it will have disap. ■peared under a sudden thaw—London changes its climate every half-hour ors£ There has been no wind, sc there is no driven snow, but it lies evenly on footpath and uplands, anc •on the branches of trees—a huge white fairy picture, inexpressiblj charming, after the dull leaden skie: -whichSthe New Zealanders don't appreciate when they come Home. We do not like to leave the snow yet, se we stroll up Piccadilly to observe the snow clad roofs, and see how it accommodates itself to London's chimney pots. The sight is worth seeing —something like a city cut out lr cardboard—but we miss the trees, and the banks of the Surpentme, sc •we stroll back through the park, and, as the immortal Pepys said,