SECOND HAND. ROUND AMONG THE DEALERS.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXI, Issue 25, 31 January 1911, Page 3

SECOND HAND. ROUND AMONG THE DEALERS.

WHAT THE POOE SELL AND BUY. TRAGEDY IN THE WINDOW. (By C.A.M.) When the hard luck time comes too often some men, being what uhey are, beat their wives; others "beat" their creditors; and some, desperate and despairing, creep down to the sea in the dark and look down the muzzle of a revolver, and so get out of the wnole business. New Zealand, it is good to feel, knows few of these. Just as easily, and in the majority of cases, the -hard luck period drives folk to drink, to the secondhand dealer, or to dear old accommodating "uncle," and then the grandfather's clock, the piano candlesticks, and the boy's concertina pass into other hands — ''second-hands" — to meet the exigencies of circumstances more than half way. Up in Taranaki-street, between Courtenay-piace and Vivianstreet, there is a cluster of these philanthropic establishments, and in a reasonable proximity hover the cheaper residential areas of this growing city, and the approximation does not appear out of place, or too incongruous. For this reason there are to be found no secondhand establishments on the Terrace or in Hobson-street. It is not difficult to know why. Such places are a natural concomitant, and a logical outcome of their surroundings; undeniably they serve one of the public needs. "THERE ARE AN HUNDRED TRAGEDIES." In this case, it was not one's business to interview a dealer as to his relations with clients. The secondhand magnate knowG his business, and a lot of other people's, but he is not given to dwelling upon either. Have you anything to sell? Do you wish to huy? Outside one typical window one accosted daringly a client, whose carniined nose ludicrously defeated his assumption of virtue, overpressed by the heel of trim Circumstance. Only he and the ! ealer knew what he had left behind, ] and how much silver had passed in as- 4 change, but the decayed customer, no longer financially embarrassed, responded blithely to the hail of the onlooker. Uninvited, he moralised, his quaint locks draggling, his unmanicured hand sweeping towards the motley collection in the window. "There," he moaned huskily, "there are an hundred tragedies." The wind blew a discouraging report of hia uncleanness. "That baby shoe — what dimpled, rosy foot has stayed therein?" He breathed heavily— and that wind ! I tried to cheer him with the suggestion that God made little feet and hands His especial care, but he gloomed pessimistically. "Yon wee shoes, yon dainty frock " „ "Yon policeman," I added, and in a moment was alone. That was his tragedy. FORSAKEN FRILLS. Still, the old derelict spoke truth enough : theae crowded, oiten sordid, windows suggest all thess little tragedies that Life te.ems with in a city. The poor seldom have much xo sell, but when Poverty knocks it ths door the little, household gods fry out of the window, and ar« sate caged behind the dealer's counter, or are placed in popular refuge —•'Up the spout." Wearing apparel of all kinds, trifling trinkets, odds and ends, degenerative bric-a-brac, predominate. Here- a pale green frilly ball go-A-n, whose eilk flounces had "frouirou'd" over how many miles of floor to , ths impulses of a passionate string band. Obviously the one-timo owner followed I a genteel calling, and life was a glad j round until the hard-luck time arrived. I Near by is a one-piece 'rock of a delicate rcsc-pink shade, through whose lacy iuteivale bebe ribbon of a deeper hue twined. Ai ! Where is beauty? A next door neighbour was a dark lilmy' creation with spangles gleaming brazenly, attacking the attention. Ths imagination conjured up the factory 'and, her ultimate shilling gons to the dressmaker, praying for the holiday to be seen. Who oi 1 what drove her to the second-hand dealer"? Doubtless that expansive purple hat, with purple floral decorations, was a part of the general colour scheme. Such a hat maybe- lent witchery to a ravenblack fringe and a pair of wickedly dark eyts. Once again, where is beauty? "OX WHOSE SWAN-LIKE NECK—?" Capacious blouses and bodices of all shades and shapes swell no more before the matronly besom. One would hazard that that pale blue with elbow akevesand open work at the neck, one time adorned a biowsy beauty, aged about 392, wno gsjned red roses over a cook-ing-stove. Two dooro (as it were) away to the South hung a confection of the shade yclept elephants' breath, with salmon pink fancies attached. The cuffs as^urely fitted close round a well-built •wrist, and the lace edgings were sadly discoloured. That was mum's before the old man fell down au unprotected hold, ;-.nd could not walk home. And it is because he has not walked since that ths summer bodice came out to help keep the family. Beyond the pile -of assorted footwear is a gr-sen straw hat, wild with unearthly looking rcses, and tlepreesed foliage. That belonged to a. little lady who did not get a fair run, and there is a gleam as of new tears where it leans mournfully. Near at hand is a matron's bonnet, black-beaded and with an atmosphere of the Sabbaih, which one time kept more congenial company. Whcse proud hsad bore those »oikd ostrich feathers? On whcse swanlike neck did that dog's fur scarf snuggle warm en a cold bright night, when Love was near? MOSTLY FOR MEN ONLY. ' Mobtly for men only, this paragraph." "We have mentioned grandfather's clock, but here is his black and gold smoking cap, making love to a silk underskirt, i ancl jostled by such irreverent things as "new" second-hand corsets, a pile of dubio^us looking .novelettes, and a tray | of razS's. ,The smoking cap looks lonely without grey hairs and a cloud of smoke. But one must live. This pair of No. 9 English-made evening shoes were parted, one guesses, from their owner when his remittance could not keep pace with his thirst nor caich up v.-itn the lodging bill. If those last hopes had run last enough that gray | felt hat affected by J^jdney "toughs." or swaggering stable boys would not have been empty m a i'aranaki-street window to-day. Sac suits make a display in all shop fronts, and in most places are ac- i companicd by paper, celluloid, and linen j collars, mostly of the lew-necked variety, bespeaking their former wearers, non- i residents of Kelburne and non-members | of the Wellington Club. Boots, big md little, no clas.s, lov/ class, and high j class, light and heavy, pump soles and cardboard soles, bkcuers and satin slippers — there are a many. Alleged greenstone brooches, cheaply mounted, cruets and watchehains that might er.sily have been wan in a "ring-'em-on" saloon at a penny per shot, grimly utilitarian watches and alarm clocks, probably prizes for the collection of cigarette coupons, are to be found in almost every window, and each has its own suggestion to offsr. MEETING A NEED. The second-hand shops, it has been E- 'i, meet a particular need. It is true

enough. If the poor sell there they can buy there too, and at reduced rates. Many dealers pick up many bargains for cash, and pick up, too, out-of-fashion wardrobes at a cheap rate, so that the banker's eldest daughter who has been Home twice may, should her eyes be j sharp enough, see a Tory street beauty flirting in the ninon that received four lines in the ladies' column two years before. If one can drive a bargain with a second-hand dealer (the dealer is really a first-class business man) one can furnish one's wardrobe for a comparatively small outlay. It is no discredit to him that he does not allow sentiment to interfere with business. An honest dealer is of great assistance to the police in the " matter of tracing stolen goods. Ho will be on the lookout when warned, and if Sikes wishes to sell a 60-guinea chronometer stylishly engraved for thirty shillings, he (Sikes) is too hazardous altogether. His name and address are taken, -and he may -be -wickedly delayed op the footpath or at the counter until the telephone brings up a constable. WHEN THE SHUTTERS ARE UP. Some of the bigger shops are inside dark with countless garments, the shelves packed with dingy army blankets and forgotten tweeds. It must be a dreary haunt when the shutters are up, the lights out, and the shuffling feet outside have headed off home. For then — can you doubt it? the little memories that cling bat-like to the sombre rafters, will come out to make mournful intercourse and a hopeless rustling in the dark, and their little stories are too sad for words. When dawn breaks down the street back they creep to theshadows to sleep, their wings crosswise over their heads. And it this that gives a second-hand shop interior 6uch a gray aspect on any bright day.