LOUDON JOTTINGS.

Waikato Argus, Volume IV, Issue 296, 2 June 1898, Page 4

LOUDON JOTTINGS.

(FBOM OUR LADY CORRESPONDENT). Just a year ago last Friday, April Ist, the big ship Gothic steamed out of Welling Harbour bearing me along to English shores, but amid all the interesting and wonderful things I have seen and heard during my sojourn in this vast centre of England's greatness, I still think with affectionate remembrance of my old friends across the dark blue ocean, and of the many years I spent among them. SNOW-BALLING. In my last letter 1 said I had had no chance of indulging in a game at snowballing yet; well, since then I can certainly say I have Been snow, but I was quite disgusted at the preteuce of it. It began well, but ended horribly in slush, Blush, slush. The cold has been very keen of late, more so tkan during the winter months, but for a few hours in the middle of the day it is beautiful and aunshiny. HOLY WEEK. This being holy week, all the theatres except ten are closed until Easter or after, and on Good Frid&y there will be a host of sacred concertß and services at every place of amusement down to the Mohawk Minstrels, and Moore and Burgess Company, which two latter continue to hold sway in a most astonishing manner from one year's end to another. The Bishop of London is holding short midday services at St. Paul's this week, and has large attendances, even the busy city men making efforts to tear themselves away from their office work and commercial transactions for the short time tho service laßts. WESLEYAN MISSION. I have mentioned various Anglican Churches which I have been to at ditferent times, but las"; Sunday—Palm Sunday—l attended a Bervice at St. James* Hall in connection with the Wesleyan West London Mission. It was the children's festival, and the service was conducted by the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes. The hall presented quite a different appearance to what it wears during the week at ordinary concerts, the stage being prettily decorated with palms and flowers, and large silken banners belonging to the different schools from other halls were hnng in various Earts. There was a capital orchestral and, conducted by Heath Mills, which played very good secular music. The audience —perhaps I should say the congregation—oceupied the gallery and balcony seats, while the children, in number about four hundred, with their teachers sat in the body of the hall, each section being distinguished by different coloured flowers pinned on the breast. It was a very pleasant and interesting meeting, and Mr Hughes spoke very nicely to his young hearers. It was rather amusing when he asked them, before beginning his address, if they had any idea what his text was going to be. Several youngsters called out " Palms," and when he said "No, it was something more striking than the palms," there was a confident outcry, "It's you, you!" At last one bright looking little fellow hit upon the right text, which wbb inscribed in white letters on a large red banner in front of the platform, "Ye are of God, little children." I noticed what a great number of gentlemen were present, indeed the male sex is always well represented in the London churches. LONDON BEGGARS AND SANDWICH GIRLS.

It is very sad to see the number of blind people begging in London. Whether they are all deserving objects of charity it is hard to say, but no matter what the weather is you are Bure to find the same people always in the same place, standing, sitting, or slowly walking along. Starting from King's Cross and taking the route by Russell Squaro, Bloomsbury, New Oxford - street and turning round Oxford Circus down Regent-street I know exactly what beggars and street characters I shall meet. First at certain distances I meet blind men and women, some selling boot laces or matches, others nothing, only waiting for alms. At the corner of Guilford-Btreet I am surrounded by half-a-dozen young flower girls, all smiles and politeness, and wearing indesoribable bate with wonderful trimmings. My next stoppage is by a street artist, busily employed in drawing pictures on the pavement with his bits of common coloured chalk lying on a piece of old canvas by his side. He writes on one of the squares in good round letters: " I draw on the stones to earn an honest living." Some of these street artists make really clever sketches in a wonderfully short space of time, and generally have a small crowd round them. Next a pale blind woman with a little girl at her side. Then I come to a queer-look-ing old customer sitting on the stonework of the railings round Russell Square. She has a concertina in her hands, but I have never heard her play yet, so whether she considers herself a vocal or instrumental performer I don't know. Thinking she might, like the generality of her sex, be bashful (?) I have sometimes crept silently up and waited, but no sound. Then I have stood boldly in front of her, with no better result. She only just draws the instrument out once or twice eliciting a most unearthly wail, so I have come to the conclusion that her music is too classical and of too high an order for my poor comprehension, so I pass on and leave "Madame Wagner," as 1 have christened her, all alone in her glory. At the corner of Bloomsbury-street I know I shall find two—sometimes three —wild looking grown-up flower girls, with their dark hair always in a tumbledown state. They make a rush at the passers by with a : " Buy a bunch, lady, buy a bunch ! Button hole, sir, button hole ? Only a penny, do buy, sir." Then two sandwich men advising everyone to go and be cured of all their ailments by Massage. On a little way is another blind maH with a woman, playing a small hand organ, which sends forth most doleful notes, and I think he is also a member of tho Wagner family. A short distance further is a woman with a picturesque handkerchief twisted round her dark hair, leaning against tho wall and having a cage of little birds for sale. I now look out for boy No. 1, playing a concertina, and at his feet a miserable monkey in a red coat. I know I shall find boy No. 2 with another monkey a little higher up. These monkeys are two of my pensioners and very fond of oranges, but they are the most wretched little objects I ever saw. I can't talk much with the boys, as they scarcely speak a word of English. Between these boys comes another blind man, and this one is playing a piccolo, and his companion is a very nice black retriever dog, which sits patiently in front of his master and has a tin mug suspended round his neck to hold copEers. Then a man selling wonderful nives with blades flying out in all directions, only one penny ! More flower girls at Oxford circus, then turn down Regent-street and first comes a man with mechanical toys, the principal one being a kicking donkey and cart, which he always starts going when there is a clear space, and to Bee that donkey go careering and kicking along the pavement in front of fashionable ladies and gentlemen, who are obliged to wait till the kicking is exhausted, always amuses me. Then come the sandwich girls whose advent in Regent-street a few months ago created such a stir. When they first appeared they were pounced upon by the police, who evidently thought Buch strange figures could not te allowed —at all events not on the footpath—so they were reluctantly allowed to walk just off the kerbstone in the wake of the sandwich men. They really do look absurd, clad in long loose gowns with high white sugarloaf hate, and a small board on their cheit and one on their bask advertising " Biscuits eatoujby the |

Queen." Thoy were first dressed in scarlet gown 3; now thoy have violet ones. Then I come to another blind man feeling hia way with a long stick. Another mechanical toy man, and lastly at Regent's circus, Piccadilly, a whole lot of flower vendors with baskets of every variety of flower round the quadrant. And every day these same things are going on, to say nothing of other casual street hawkers, cripples and street pianos which you meet with at every turn, but these I have mentioned are always to be found like fixtures on one side of the street. No wonder the puzzling question arises in one's mind as to " How London lives ?"