PAVEMENT PORTRAITS.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 4, Issue 1245, 2 December 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

PAVEMENT PORTRAITS.

, A SPIDER," : . | A harmless-looking, quiet, little gray man,' carrying an innocent sortof retioule, mayibe observed on many a.fine morning, ay, and'on many a-stormy one too, tripping daintily along Pall-Mall, along Cockspur street, by Charing Cross;' and then to the right, down 1 Whitehall. Muttering to himself as he goes 'ilongj.it is evident that his thoughts are introspective, and that the "throngs of men" among whom he.moves at this busy hour interest him not at all. Not by any moans' a remarkable man is this portrait, He is below tho middle height, is dressed in respectable speckly " Oxford mixture," his trousers and his comfortable double-breasted overcoat being of that semi-clerical tint. : He wears a tall hat, nicely brushed,.with a ■■ narrow hatband which lends a tinge of subdued melancholy to his appearance, He has spottygray cloth gloves of robust make on- his hands, one of which carries a substantial urnV brella, while the other holds the reticule alluded to. His face is rather'benign,, and not ill-favored, except for his eyes, which look'as if they'never dosed in: sleep, so restless and sharp are they. His hair is like his clothes, of an undecided gray;: his whiskers of >the same' color, are well trimmed, and cut so as to nearly meet under his lower lip, as if the' right and left' sides, hastening to greet'each other in a cordial sort of way, were stopped by the little round chin, on whijh not a hajir is allowed to grow, ■•■ •,■':■> :.■; ■ : • ~,• i,

Down Whitehall lie walks, The carriage of the First Lord, aa.it drive* sharply through the gateway of the Admiralty, arrests him for. & moment in his progress; but the stoppage does not cause him to show any interest in the vehicle or its ocoupant, The blazing mounted sentries at the Horse Guards do not secure a glance from the restless eyes of the bearer of the black bag, who continues his sharp little trot until he reaohca Downing street, Here ho turns the oorner, and going a few yards up this pet retreat of Diplomacy, stops, and takes his stand on the curbstone, He plants his umbrella firmly down,

and gazes in a placid way at the highly orna. mentod facade of the Home Office opposite, Not a minute has elapsed after the arrival of the spider, ere the fly appears. Out from tho grand doorway of a Government office close ,at hand comes a fashionably dressed young gentleman, with a rosebud in his coat, and a Blight flush on his cheeks—not exactly a flush of health, but rather a blush of perplexity and shame at the business he has in hand with the speckled smug at the corner, Turning sharp to the right, he walks, with a step rather too light and independent to be natural, straight to the sacrifice about to be made, in which he himself is to be the victim, the bag-carrier, the executioner and priest. The latter draws his chubby, white but plebeian-looking right hand from its hot cloth ease, and gives four fingers to the victim, on whom he smiles complacently as he says: "Good morning, Mr, 'Ampton"—he is sparing in the use of the letter h~"ow aro you ?" As lie asks this simple question with " a smile that is pensive and child-like," his restless little red eyes wander along the street, and across the great broad road of Whitehall to the distant Mansard roof of Montague House, as though for a moment he thinks that ho has mistaken his metier, and that his role in life should have been that of an architect, instead of that of financial agent to government office fledglings, whom, to do him justice, he plucks ore even they have strong feathers for pulling, A commonplace answer to his commonplace.question having been givon, the roaming eyes return home from their journey across the road, so to speak, and their owner's gaze suddonly takes a higher flight over his companion's right shoulder in an oblique direction, as he says in a gentle nervous tone: " 'Ow about those tickets for the theatre, Mr.'Ampton?" _ "I've told you, Mr. Jackson, a hundred times, if I've told you once, , that I never have orders for the theatre, When /go I pay, and I am not in the way of getting tickets for free admission.. I know lots of fellows do get them; and lam sure some sueh fortunate beggars must be in your book; so that it is not necessary for you to come to me for such things,—Well now, you got my letter yesterday, I see; oan you do what I ask ?"

The fly has come to the point,with a rush. He already begins to feel rather uncomfortable, and he wants to out the interview short,

. albeit-he dares not, look at the spider, put busies himself with arranging.the flower; in,, his buttonhole, .which gives the spiderl an i opportunity to cease,.for a moment his study, of the olouds, and'allow his eyes to "tjike in", the young ;man : befpre,him on their way .downwards from, space to the square! of pavement Immediately in front of hia< goloshcovered ;..;.,.,,. j ',,, <: r.Then the gentle exeoutioner draws a little diagram on the ground with the point of .his umbrella, and speaking more to that Gampish, article than to his interrogator, says:, "WjdlJ you know, Mr. 'Amptoh, there's a.little interest on that last bit of, piper. ; It isn't muoh, and I daresay we; can arrange it comfbrtable for you j and I have,brought a fresh one that youoan take inland sign, ■ It's 'all , right. I've put it all together, so asnotjto make any confusion, ~1 Tate 'aying so many; little affaira with my friends, when one jjitiof paper can. show at a. glance, W wo: stand. There now, tako it, and look at it. I'm not 'ard on anybody, You'll be satisfied,! I, know." Here the little man puts his. urn-, brella under his arm and opons the bag—tnat receptacle which holds blood in bonds, youhg men's sighs, tears, and curses hidden behind, the signatures hastily scrawled-on the oblong, slips of. ominous blue paper !-aud:produies ■jfcwo of .the slips, which, he hands to the im-. patient'oKeht. *' .'Erp,;they;are,. Mr. j 'Amp-, ton. That's the oldr-you see I've entered the interest you paid me,last,,on,theb»ckj-' that, .you see„is for forty.'. : • Now, supposeVe say Fillet you .'aye five.and you take up the old bit o' paper,, and sign this new one, 'and. then we'U.be all right up to date," ; j ,'.' But this bill, my dear sir,' ,is for,, fifty I" exclaims the other, "and I asked you for ten,' Am I to sign for,other ten pounds ahd receive only five? Oh,-thisjs too muoh 1j I can!t do it, I really ; can't,",,, .'. , ~,.-,, • ..''But the interest, Mr.'l'Ampton, the Interest, in .these,'ard,,times!/You'll find!it all correct, if you just go in and work it out, Mr. 'Ampton. I'll go and take ,a walk on the Embankment, and I'll come baok in ten. minutes, and then I know you'll see tliat I'm not 'ard upon you, I wouldn't, bo,'ard on any one for anything," """ |', "Oh, well, make it seven then, and I'll sign," says the viotim, who makes an effort to get something nearer what he requires for the aaorifioe which.his signature will carry with it, .',; ~. . \ .. "Five-ten," This in the blandest way,

with a sudden look of interest in a atatuo stepping out of a niohe in the building opposite. ' " No; six pounds ten j not a penny less—and then I'll see whether I can get any orders for the theatre." "Now, Mr, 'Ampton, Mr. 'Ampton, you are really too bad, I can't give money away, I tell you what I'll do—l'll sayjw." This last offer is actually accompanied by a gentle dig administered by the spider to the fly on the middle button of the latter's frock coat; and a sort of little ricochet movement on the part of the former, as he looks straight at his victim for the first time, "All right, then; six;"' and away flies the fly to sign the new paper, whioh he soon brings out again; upon receiving which the financier produces a little chain purse, from which he extracts six sovereigns, already done up in paper, which he hands' to the victim; saying:'' You won't forget the tiokets, will you?" "Oh, all right. Good morning," ! ' "Good morning, Mr. 'Ampton;" and the suoked one goes off to his ten-to-four duties; while the sucker goes on to the Embankment to look at the penny steamers and to admire the flowers 1 Nature is;full of contrarieties; otherwise, it would seem odd that an awful' little money-grubber such as the subject of this sketch should take pleasure in the growth of trees and flowers; but so' it is, ■ This man, who, like a veritable vampire, exists on the blood of his victims, is quite an authority on roses! He has ninety-nine different kinds of 1 this flower, which haze bloomed and withered year after year in the money-lender's garden at Wimbledon, Prizes have been gained by him at local flower-shows, where his roses have competed with those of the honest merchant and the unsophisticated local magnates ; and his cleverness at rearing therhis often the talk of the gardeners of the neighborhood, Works of art too are collected by this sixty per-cent.' monger; and on the walls of his vulgar little villa hang "bits" by Copley Fielding, "old" Chrome, and Olarkson'Stanfield; while copies of the antique in statuettes stand upon his shelves, This man knows the money value of all these possessions; but we; doubt whether they give him pleasure in'anyother way, For had he any real perception of what is beautiful and good, how could he sit among these things evening after evening, as he doos,

. , i i; .WeavingJhe.meshes in chains jhis i viptims,, manufacturing, gy,ves ( , . and i with jhis iniquitous pia-cent. exactions, arranging racks as heavy and as, cruel as those of Torquemada arid tho Inquisition of old? : •,'. The man is riot pleasant; and it would'be ,weU if ■ it,werej possible:to shut him up jfor ,eve_r with his roses,, his ; canvases, and his puriosities,, so that he 'might ' cease to : trot . round public offices, .where his presence is as deadly ,as, the,,breath of typhus-itself!—' Chamkrs'. fournal;' „,,. v j,