A NIGHT IN LONDON.

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 248, 18 October 1924, Page 34

A NIGHT IN LONDON.

POVERTY AND LUXURY

WHERE THE HOMELESS SLEEP

,By F.M.M.)

Probably there is no city in the world bo intensely interesting and yet co hard in know properly as our own dear London. This is not altogether owing in its immense pxtent (statistics tell us it rovers IiOO squaro miles) as to its diversity of inhabitants, its lights and shades of living, and the various outlooks on existence taken by its millions of citizens. The West End has quite n different standard of living, even breathes a different atmosphere from the East, just across the river. Yet there are many interesting spots where Knst meets West, to their mutual aihantap-e. One can turn aside from Oxford Street, or the Hay market, even n few steps from exclusive Grosvenor J , lane, nnd be at once in a small section of Whitechapcl. A Saturday night in one such side street give 3 one an idea of how other folk live, though just at first one feels a little reluctant to buy one's experience. The stalls are loaded with most things that the people want ti> buy—flowers, vegetables, fruit, meat, fUh (of course), but also the luxuries of life, such as lace, Birmingham jewels, and even furg. The voice of the seller calls raucously, the arguments of the buyers are not much more melodious, and flaring torches add to the weirdness of the scene. I have tried buying in these street markets, but not with any {rreat success, always emerging with battered spirit and something I n«ver meant to own. The stallholders have an enticing way of piling choice fruit in front and filling your bag with the back rubbish. Any objection brings down a storm of sarcasm, beneath which I wither away. " 'Ere," he says, "don't yer be fingerin , my fruit jest to see if its roipe. Course it's roipe. No one don't make no 'oles in my plume, I tells yer etrite. Think I'm goin' to tike out the best ones for yer, lidy, not 'arf." But he does it for the stout dame beside mc, who beats him down tuppence and tells him to " 'old his fice, and give 'or none of 'is imperence." I fade away round the corner where stands a well-known "Stores." I receive a military salute from the commissionaire who opens my door, am conducted by deferential guides to my department, a disguised duke assists mc in my outlay of sixpence, and my self-respect returns. Quite worth the extra penny. Most overseas visitors content themselves by thoroughly doing the West End, with excursions to old churches, historic buildings, and things one ought to visit—all on the beaten track. It is possible to see another side of this vast metropolis, and lately I spent a whole night walking round London. In anticipation we called it a ramble, but one can ramble a long way in nine hours, and towards daylight it felt more like a Marathon race. Amongst other placea we visited a large night shelter for women, just off the Whitechapel Road. This road, by the way, must be one of the widest in any city, and its pavements were thronged with people of every nationality. Jews predominated; the girls well, if scantily clothed, with sleek hair and no hats. We paseed through the ghetto where the language is almost entirely Yiddish, and the printed posters resemble Chinese puzzles. The shelter we visited is managed by the Salvation Army. Tho person in charge was most willing to show and explain everything, and oue can realise what a blessing such night accommodation must be to poor homeless creatures. The sordidness of it all waa very depressing. Perhaps more so to us who come from the open lands overseas, where such herding together should never be necessary. The floorspace of a very large hall was packed with beds, also a gallery running right round, and all the 250 beds were occupied by women, some asleep, others just come in, and a few interested in v*. One old lady, who had probably been to a birthday party, started singing the National Anthem, and when remonstrated with said she thought it must be the King and Queen coming round, bless their 'carts. Most of the women work, cleaning, selling flo%vers or papers, nnd come in at any old hour. A bed costs fivepenee (if they have it), and a meal is supplied for a penny—soup or tea, bread and jam, stew or rice, etc. Numbers of inmates have been there for years, and like it, but hundreds are turned away every week. The ladies gave us tea, and we were glad to leave a small donation towards the good work. It is quite a mistake to imagine that because people live in the East End, thousands of them in poverty and squalor, they must necessarily be miserable. They certainly are not, but enjoy life quite as much, as the West End aristocrat. Always in their own way, I'll admit, but with more zest, more abandon, less mauvais honte than actuates the better educated class with tho "it's not done, you know," motto. We visited tht* office of a well-known morning paper, but the word office seemed quite a misnomer. It far more resembled a good hotel, with its tiled walls, bath and dressing rooms, Early English smoke rooms and lounges, roof garden, and even a cricket pitch. Aβ I sank into the editor's luxurious armchair I wondered how any serious business could come out of it. That was at 3 a.m., and bed very far away. There was a cute little button hidden in the tuck pile carpet beside the chair. When the great man preased it with a foot the door locked or unlocked silently. I have stayed a, house where the same device was beside the bed, so that the timid sleeper could open to morning tea without undue exertion. To on! who has some passing acquaintance with newspaper work in newer land*, the most striking thing m this palace was its extreme tidinees. Here were no papers thrown as.de, no traces of scissors work or cancelled proof,. The huge editorial room was as quiet and decorous as the reading-room of the British Museum. Downstairs papers wore turning out in thousands, tied up and taken away in motor yans. No, it was neither the i? e f t D , Or tho " Poßt '" nor had it publicly taken off its hat to France. We visited then an all-night coffee house where we were supplied with tea or coffee and a "doorstep," i.e., thick slices of breed with a chunk of ham between. There were many night workers hanging round, some dozing, some playing cards. Showing interest in a game, I was invited to take a hand. Declined with thanka, for their appearance and language were bo — well, careless, that I visioned my "pardner" drawing on mc should I trump hie best ace. We had a most glorious view of the sun rising over the Thames ac we stood on the Charing Cross footbridge. The t-ky and river turned to a wonderful blue, and out of a faint pint mist »w

tho dome of Bt, Paul's. All the little river boats and barges showed green and red lights. The huge whito buildings on the Embankment began to shine through the trees, the electric lights paled, and over all was a wonderful peace, broken only by the booming of Big Ben. Then from under tho bridge crept out a police boat after its night's vigil on the river, where so many unfortunate ones find a last resting-place. Covent Garden at 5 o'clock was a ecene of bustle, with the. unpacking and arranging of supplies for a vast city. Such flowers and fruit one can see nowhere else. The porters are the jolliest crowd I have ever come across, laughing and dialling , , and not even sparing their lady visitors. As we followed our conductor round the remarks were audible and quite amusing. "I say, Bill, look at these. Wot do you think they are?" "Blimey, but they're a lot o' blinkin' sufTeragettes. -, "Now, wot yer given us? Carn't yer see they're foreigners. Parley voos, I says." "Hi, Joe, come 'ere; 'ere'a a pack o' Mormons a-fol-lorin' their leader."' I think our vwit must have unsettled the poor things, for they struck en masse just after we left to seek bath and breakfast in our various diggings.