THE CAMELOT.

Northland Age, Volume IV, Issue 50, 3 August 1908, Page 2

THE CAMELOT.

HE IS A PARIS STREET NEWS- . VENDOR. i There is a foundation for the belief that the Paris newspaper camelot is a millionaire in: disguise. If he were a millionaire he ; would he extremely well disguised,, for Paris can show nothing more ragged, dirtier, and more ill-shaven than this seller of newspapers. To the casual onlooker he does not seem to have any wish to sell his paper. The police do not allow him to call the news, but he rushes along, apparently in wild excitement,, shrieking "La Pr-r----r-esse ! Les depnieres nouvelles, la , Pr-r-r-esse !” When somebody stops him and, with a half-penny out stretched, asks for a paper, the camelot pt.fils one off his roll, thrusts it at the buyer, pockets the coin, and tears along again. j I have a liking for these free lancesi of the Fourth Estate. They belong, or rather they have belonged, to all classes of society, and they are curiously interesting when they can be persuaded to talk about themselves. Drink is the usual ladder which has . led them down TO SELL NEWSPAPERS FOR A LIVING, but I have not found many of. them to be discontented with their lot. "I i think,’ one of them tcild me, " that ! I am happier now than I have ever ; been before.” ! He had been a salesman in a shop, j where he earned 120 francs (not | quite £5) a month. | "When I was earning that I had to ; keep myself decently dressed and to 1 provide clothes fop my wife, and I ; never succeeded ini making both ends i meet, not even when I got the post ' of controleur in one of the theatres, for the increase in my washing bill . made this extra work of very little use to me. I worked from 7 o'clock in the morning until 8 at night, and, ’ when I had the controleur position, i until midnight. And I had not q,uite enough to live. upon. Now I wear any clothes I like, I pay no rent, I make a hearty meal off harlequins once or twice a day, and I am ; happy.” i "PAYING NO RENT ” in camelot jargon- 1 means sleeping , under the Seine bridges. It is not nearly as uncomfortable as might he expecjted, for the sleepers are well sheltered from the wind and rain, and except in very cold or exceptionally wet weather they can sleep well in the poor man’s bedroom, as they also call it. Ini fact, many camcj lots prefer the poor man’s bedroom ! to "la couche des aristos ” or "lodging of the aristocrats,” which art, the ; penny doss-houses, where for two sous they may sleep “on the cord.”

but I have not found many of them to be discontented with their lot. “I think,’ one of them tqld me, " that I am happier now than I have ever been before.”

j There beds there are string ham- : mocks, fifteen or twenty of which are strung in a room where hygiene should forbid more than two pool He to sleep, . and in the early morning I they are warned .that it is time to wake and go by the simple method of letting the hammocks doyvn with a thud on the floor,

I 1 HOW MANY ; I WONDER, KNOW WHAT THE HARLEQUIN

on which the camelot feeds may be ? The camdot Jives and lives well on sevenpenee or ninepenoe a day, He cannot feed chez Paillard for this sum, but for it be can fsed “dc chez Paillard.”

He gets up late, for it is in the evening, that the camelot reaps his best profit, and at about 11 o’dlock goes over to the Halles, the Co vent Garden Market of Paris, where for a penny he can get a lunch of fish and meat and vegetables. His lunch is nqt served very daintly. He provides his own plate, which, as a rule, is a piece: of newspaper, and lor his two sous he gets fish, meat, and vegetables, which the cooks of the restaurants have over, and sell for what they will fetch. With two or three glasses of wine and a pennyworth of b'read the canielot’s meal is made, and it is by no means a bad Qne. When he likes, or rather when

j SOMETHING SENSATIONAL IN

THE PAPERS has made him a rich man for the time being, he takes his harlequin with him chez Aramon, a restaurant where he gets wine fqr twopence halfpenny, and under cover with empty tubs for tables.. • He has his club, too, has the camelot. A smoky room out of the Avenue do Clichy, where dinner, which costs sixpence, is followed by a smoking concert.

Anid taking all in all, the camelot enjoys his life as much as many others of us in the Fourth Estate.— John N. Raphael, in the "Evening Standard."