SQUALID STREETS WITH LITTLE SURPRISES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2375, 7 September 1899, Page 55

SQUALID STREETS WITH LITTLE SURPRISES.

THESE ARE INSTANCES FROM LONDON SLUMS. "I can give you proof at last. The j uncle I told you of has died and left me i £50,000. His carriage comes to fetch me ' to-night." I Sure enough, close upon midnight, a splendid equipage, with two horses and gorgeous footman and driver, escorted by a ' ■wondering rabble from the slums around, j clattered into the miserable street wherein resided tha man who had made the above statement. Foi years this wretched being, j a dealer in bottles and rabbitskins and other ■ rubbish, hart boasted of his someday-com-ing wealth, and been laughed and jeered at when he told the familiar story of his rich relations. | Now, witb actual evidence before their i eyes, the whole tribe of his ragged j neighbours turned out to cheer him. The lucky man entered the fine carriage, and amid shouts and the yelling of good wishes, was borne rapidly away from" the region of squalor and dirt. Two days latei the lifeless body of the j man supposed to have stepped from starva- ! tion to affluence was drawn from the slug- I -gish water of a wharf-edged canal. With the savings of months he had hired that handsome^ equipage, and made a few moments' dazzling show ere he put an end to his existence. In a wretched attic of a tumble-down, tenement, situated in one of the meanest quarters of the metropolis, lived — and may- \ be still lives — a little, wizened, broken- j down Jew. Thejiouse was chiefly occupied by Irish labourers and their families, and, pitying the poor man's lonely poverty, good-hearted wives of new-comers would sometimes send one of' the children upstairs with something from the pot as a I present to him. But these offerings he nevei accepted, " Tank you, ma tear," he rcould say. "I haf plenty of pread." Bad as were the nouses in this street, they were quite sound and substantial compared with 8. whole row not far away, but ?rhieh, weather-beaten and cracked as they were, yet sheltered a swarming crowd, and yielded yearly a little fortune in rents. At last matters came to such a pitch that the authorities took action. The owner of this score or so of precious ruins was summoned to court. And there in the witnessbox, blinking and winking in the sunlight, stood the landlord, the little, starving Jew from the street round the corner. j " Hard up for a sixpence I Borrow one ! |of 'Silly Bill.'" The man alluded to was, by those living in the same court, put down as a " softy." He worked somewhere " over the water," and was a harmless, friendly sort of being. Every week he lent money, but whether it was shillings or a few pence he never saw it again. For all bis foolish- ' ness, however, he had a head for some things. The bad characters of the court* often discussed their schemes before him, for, in a childish, droning kind of way, he not infrequently suggested things that helped them out of difficulties. I Then evil days fell upon the gang. One j by one their members came within the clutch of the law and their haunts no longer knew them. As jobs became harder to plan, the men still at liberty more often consulted the fool who was yet ingenious. One morning a man came to see him and found the door ok his room locked. A day i passed ; the other lodgers became alarmed, j and the door was burst open. Under the ' table lay the dead body of the supposed , idiot, his skull crushed in by a blow from , a short iron bar that was close beside him. J The gang had found out who had been " put- j ting them away." "Silly Bill" was a " copper's nark " — a spy in the pay of the police. Marrying a respectable young girl, a me- j chanic, to be near his daily work, came to ; live in a dingy street in a poverty-stricken j neighbourhood. Years went on ; the couple ' had no children; and revealed the fact that they were not in want by now and again helping their poorer neighbours. Then one morning the husband, going out to work, found a bundle on the -doorstep, and in that bundle a baby boy. He and his wife adopted the little one and treated it as a child of their own. Growing up the little fellow was one day playing outside the house when he disappeared. Search high '. and low failed to find him. .Next morning on the doorstep was discovered a little girl, his sister. In turn this child was adopted. Some_while after, the mother, who had thus managed to get her children provided for, died, and the facts came out. The girl continued to remain with the kind-hearted couple who had brought her up. To the midst of a poor and wretched fraternity came a man who, throwing in his ; lot with the rest, started in a humble way a mission. He held evening "talks," and soon made himself so much liked that, instead of taking lodgings of his own, he lived, with one family and another^ paying

a modest rent. From time to time he went away " on other mission work," only to return after a while to bury himself amongst his little flock. One evening as this man was discoursing to a little knot of interested listeners, the door of the room opened and two deter-mined-looking individuals peeped in. Promptly the mission-holder went out through * the window. Police-whistles sounded ; and the man was soon in custody. He was a burglar, who in this way sought asylum when, after a successful piece of work, lying low.