A LADY'S LETTER FROM LONDON.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 324, 12 December 1888, Page 3

A LADY'S LETTER FROM LONDON.

[By Elisk].

Loxdon*, October 1 1 . Duaii Mr Editor. -The cold weather has set in unusually early, and we arc evidently going to experience another long and bitter winter. What will happen if the Vi hitcchapel murderer or murdorers are not caught before " thesombrous c eason of fogs •wraps London in its Cimmerian iolds," I dread to think. Cold, hungor, and darkness am bad enough for the poor East End unfortunates to have to bear, without an ever - haunting fear of murder and suddon death superadded. They say the bye-ways of Whitechapel have been quite deserted since the lasfc crime, or crimes. The miserable women who used to frequent them dare, not leave the well-lighted main streets. As for rescue homo* and Magdalen institutions, they ha\e,filied to overflowing. The womeiuwill not scay in thorn lonir. Both matrons and rlergy know that This era \ en fear can overcome even the love of gin for a time, bub diiectiy it fades or the murderer is caught the. miserable creature? will rebel. They are far beyond reclamation. 1 anrglud, nevertheless, to feel that some kindly soul means to erect temporary shelter, halls' in the neighbourhood of the murders, which will be open to women o nly, and where a me and tables and benches, with, in extreme rases, bread and water, will be piovided. This pla-i sounds at once sensible and philanthropic. As a rule, what, arc known as '"Doss Hou>o Philanthropists " make their quest- a gtoat deal too comfortable, with the i'Cmiilg that they are imposed on by scores of sturdy beggarsj who otherwise -would be paying for their '" doss " at the rate of 4d a day, or 2s a week, in the common eating-houses. Tom attended the Berners-street inquest on business one day last week. Pic says you happy colonists can form only the vaguest idea of the sort of human beings the lowest strata at the East End are. The sister of the poor woman Stride was a ginsodden'ed virago, and identified her mutilated relative with ghoulish relish. From first to last this woman's transparent object was to turn the cataslrope to account somehow. So obvious did the past become that the coroner coubted whether she /'•««. the deceased's sister. Others, too, were sceptical on the point, but the story she told in the main proved accurate Xot one word of honest pity for the dead woman's shocking fats crossed her lips. Her own goodness and generosity to her poor sister was the never-ending theme of her discourse, or would have been, if the coroner had not cut her short. But enough of these horrid subjects. What do you think is the latest thing in automatic machines here ? In return for one perm} r we have silent vendors which will (when their internal economies are all right) send you a box of matches, a post card, a cigarstte, a pencil, a box of sweets, a drop of scent, a bad cigar, or a nots book. These we all know, but the new machine which distributes glasses of iced and distilled water in return for the nimble halfpenny we had not seen. It is the invention of an ardent teetotaller — 1 beg pardon I should have said "Hydropof — who hopes by its aid to materially assist the cause of temperance The next novelty will (obviously) bs a similar automatic machine for di?psnsing somebody's prize pale ale at a Id a fjla?s. We slpll, I expect, receive cards for a good many civic festivities during the ensuing twelvemonth as the new Lord Mayoi (Alderman Whitehe.id) and his family are dear friends of our!?. LTulike many of his predecessors, Mr Whitehead vwll look every inch Chief Magistrate of the greatest city in the world. Tall, slight, and digni- . fied with shrewd, kindly eye?, a broad intellectual forehead, a pleasant smile, a peaked beard, and iron grey hair worn rather long and curling at the end, he looks not unlike the superb President of the iJoyal Academj , save that Sir Frederick Leigh ton's aspect is rather more leonine than the city magnates-. Mr Whitehead made a fortune in what is known as "the Bradford trade" tolerably early in life. Since then he has devoted his time to politics and (strange conjunction) jroocl works. He i 3 at once the most energetic, the most methodical, and the moot encyclopaedic of men. Talk to bin on an / earthly subject of interest, from Japanese art or the educational disabilities of the Indian baboon to the market price of potatoes or the prospect ot a general election, and he'll tell you something you didn't know about the topic. His memory is phenomenal, and his judgment in mercantile matters and finance unerring. Tom says the one thing which makes him inclined to believe in the Welsh goldmines of Mr Pritchard Morgan, is that Alderman Whitehead, after inspecting them with his own engineer, took a large number of shares. Miss Mary Stevens, the young Viennese lady with an English name, who took the third prize at the Spa Beauty Show, gives a graphic account of the painful scene which ensued upon the announcement of the awards. The judges wisely kept out of the way, oi\they might, probably would, have been torn limb from limb by the unsuccessful candidates. Hysterics appear to have supervened in most cases. At any rate, shrieks, groans, and I regret to say, imprecations rent the air. When the prizewinners received their bouquets, they were snatched away and tram fled, madly under foot. One virago, whose massive bust but oppressive frowsy charms had not wrought the effect she expected, so far forgot "the hiech- breed ing indispensable in every candidate as to eructate contemptuously in the winner of the Grand Prix's face, and spit on another lady's frock. She had eventually to be ejected from the house by the police, and so had- ano.ther Belgian, a Mdlle. Vilain, who (acting up to her name) battered Miss Steven furiously with her fan. Naturally, no one was satisfied save, perhaps, the fair Creole Mdlle. Soukares, who took the Grand Prix. Even Miss Stevens grumbled at getting the third instead of the second prize. Strange to say, she could see no beauty at all in her rival, and ascribes her triumph solclj' to private influences and the fact of her being a Belgian. An Englishman who was at Spa tells me the show was'a dismal failme. There were plenty of pretty, English and American girls amongst the onlookers, but obey would not of course compete. The so-called Russians an 4 Germans competing were, it was shrewdl^ suspected, Belgians vamped up for the occasion. Some theatres seom predestined to failure from the ujomenb of their birth, Such a one was the Novelty, in Great Queen -street, now euphoniously, re-christened the Joddrell (after the blooming American widow who meditates a season, there),' and such another will, in all probability, be the Shaftsbury Theatre, in Shafbsbury iA venue, built specially by Mr John Lancaster, for his wife, Miss Wallis. Some year 3 ago (how many ifc would nob be polite to say), Miss "Wallis was a "star" actress of -some magnitude. I:say some magnitude because though the lady was beautiful and a good actress, and bore an unblemished reputation, she never

became really popular. > You didu't hear people talk ot her as they did of Adelaide .Kfeilsoii ahd do of " Mimi " Anderson. Well, now, after some years of matrimony. Miss VVallis has resolved to return to the stage, and re-gather her scattered laurels. For this purpose a &pecial theatre has been built, and a special company engaged. The play chosen for her re-appearance is " As You Like IL, :3 Mrs Lancaster (I moan .Miss of course, playing Rosalind. Whether it is. piudent of a somewhat mature- " Star " such as she is to reintroduca herself to Londoners in a play which has been quite recently mounted at the Lyceum, and in a part which actresses of the ability of Miss Anderson, Miss Ellen Terry and Mis Kendal have delighted us., remains to be seen, Tho Christmas gift books for our youngsters are beginning to make their appearance, and brighten up tho fusty counters at the stores and libraries wonderfully. As usual, Y. A. Uenty, Geo. Manvillo Fenn, dear old Ballantyne. 'Captain Percy Groses and a whole host of othars, arc to the foro with tempting literary fare for our boys. Foi those who can afford 6s, Jlr Henty 's w Lion of St. Mark,' tho enthralling adventurer of an English lad in S r enice during tho days «f the* Doges, or "Captain Bayley's lien-," a young&ter'o experiences, of the goldtields of California in the eailv part of the present century, should prove irresistible. Both are capitally illustrated and a thi actively bound. Mr Henty's ch"f d'saurc t\\U year is, however, undoubtedly hi.-s romantic stoiy of ancient Egypt, "Tho Cat ot Bubastes "' (sb). it l'elatos how Anniba, a prince- of the ilcbu nation on the shores of the Caspian, is carried with Irs chaiiotecr Jelhio into captivity. Ihcy become inmates of the house of Ameics, the Egyptian Hi,c>h lYiest, and are happy there until the priest's son kills, the n-icrcd cat of Bubastes. Ameies is killed in an outburst of popular fury, and it rests with Jcthio and Anniba to secure the escape of his children. After many dangers they succeed in crossing the desert 1 to the Tied Sea, and eventually making their way to the Caspian. The book is particularly well illustrated by Mr Weguelin, and altogether most interesting. _ Another capital tale I dipped into is Mr ¥. F. Moore's " Under Hatches,"' the adventures of a runaway, first on a convict ship, and then on a descit island. For girls, incomparably the best and cheapest gift book out yet is the annual volume of '"Atalanta," already commended to you. Miss Sarah Dondney's " Under FaUe Colours" (6s) and Miss Mulholiand's | " Giametta " (S?) are also agreeable read- | ing. "Good Words"' will have no less than three aerials running througn next year, i the authors being Edna Lyail, William Black, and George Manville Fenn. The ChrLtmas number, a tale called "Diamonds in Darkness,"' will be by the author of " Gideon's Hock,'' one of the most successful stories ot the kind ever published. I don't think Mr Conyns Carr has acted at all wisely in making Mr Marion Crawfords Italian no\el, " .Sant Ilaiio," the leading feature of the new volume of the " English Illustrated." It is not the sort of tide to draw readers. In other respects, too, this magazine (though enlarged) shows signs of falling ofl'. If you still have a weakness, for the un mitigated sensational "shocker," spend 2s bd on Mr Belford Dayne's sombrely bound "Tiibutc to Satan, *' a well told tale ot" ruthless i i rimo and punishment. In this story WR are (I think, for the iir^t timel introduced to Mr Edison's phonograph us a witness in a Court of law. A faithful f.er\ai.t, suspecting that his mistress moans to murler her husband, somehow introduces a ! tiumpct mouthed phonograph into the bedr.»om ot the unhappy couple. Tli^ instrument truthfully registers everything that occurfc, and when the murderess telLs tho coioner her husband committed suicide, confounds her by reproducing a damning con\ersation. and ccrLiin .subsequent shrieks and sounds which lca\cs the truth in ro doubt. M"r Grant Allens no\ el in ' Chamber's?," " This Mortal Coil." 1 though not as clover as some of his books, is not a novel to overlook. The three \olume edition hn> ju-fc been published, but I expect you a\ ill rind the magazine the be=t to read it in. A similar remark applies to Mr Morris's amusing story, "The Kojfue," running through " Tern rile Bar."