LONDON GOSSIP

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4796, 9 November 1893, Page 2

LONDON GOSSIP

o ■ [F«01I OUB LONDON CORRESPONDENT.] London, Sept. 22, THE UNEMPLOYED. After a short summer holiday the un employed have resumed work for th winter, and nn*et daily as heretofore at thi " eame old pitch "on Tower Hill. Thei: labours just now are light and tolerabl; remunerative. A gooily audience o' American tourists anxious to witness thi convincing proof of the indifference of thi British classes to the welfare of the masse can generally bs replied upon, and oi Tuesday 'tis said the collection for thi cause realised a considerable sum. Th flrst orator that afternoon waa a M Daniel O'Keefe. He attempted t interest the meeting in a persona difference .he had had with th police. "It was a concocted plot to sen* me to prison," the Irishman bawled, bu nobody seemed to mind much. Mr Jewere the " organiser of the unemployed," inter jected, that O'Keefe was a " Black-leg.' Against the base accusation of workin; in anyway the orator Btoutly defendei himself, but loud cries of "rat" am "traitor" drowned hia utterances. H> ultimately descended from the parapet : fallen and discredited agitator. Afte this an idle old "rip," pompously de scribed as "Mr Charles Williams, Secretary of the Movement," proceeded to anathema tise the Social Democratic Federation. Oi the principle of a well-known proverb, it ii to be hoped that when agitators fall out, th< respectable unemployed (who certainly d< not go near Tower Hill) may get thei due. THB ARDLAMONT MYSTERY. Mrs Mouson ib actively interesting her self in her husband's defence, and has ha< a number of interviews with the rininf young advocate to whom its conduct hai been entrusted. The medical evidence oi dit is likely to be quite^as strong for thi defence as for the prosecution, and thi Monßons hope to ba able to show conclu Bively that their financial interest emphatically lay in the direction of doinj all they could to keep Hamborough alive at any rate till he attained his majority The servants will describe Monson'i demeanour after the accident, and Scott'i , likewise. Monson professes to have ni doubt whatever of the eo-called Scot turning up to give evidence at the rigmoment. "He has excellent reasons foi not wishing to be mixed up in thi horrible business till it is imperativ* for both our sakes," the prisoner says The feeling towards Monson at Ardlamon has undergone a change of late, many o those "who ' at first strongly maintainec his innocence now shaking their heads This signifies little as the whole place ii riddled with sensational storias. One o the most circumstantial refers to Mn Mon son's anger, when she discovered th< bublor had found "Scott's" portrait anc given it to the police. " You seem verj anxious to hang your master," she said bitterly to the man. H. was under notice to quit, and left next day, as also did a nursi with whom Mrs Monson had had "words." INCOGNITO. An amusing story comes from one of the smaller German watering places. Amongst the visitors to the principal hotel a couple of seasons buck were two English ladies, who excited remark by the care with which they avoided intercourse with the rest oi tho residents. The elder lady was of uncertain age, and evidently not the mother of her charge, a good-looking girl, whom many of tho English folk opined they had seen before. In the hotel books the two ladies were down as the " Mesdames Milward," but this waß obviously a pseudonym adopted to screen them from notoriety. Popular opinion in the smoking-room inclined to the belief that the younger Misß " Mil ward " was an actreßs or singer. " I've seen her a score of times, begad," said Mr Coxy Jones, of Truefitt's Hairdreßßing Establishment, who was taking his annual fortnight at Blankbad; "but 'pon my soul, I can't think at which of the theatres it was." "No more can I," said another young Englishman. This youth, unfortunately, was inflammable, and the fair unknown so beautiful, yet so mysterious, ravaged his young affections. He sought in vain for an opportunity to addrees his divinity. Her duenna never left the damsel even for a moment, and tho more empresse" the poor boy silently grew, the more fidgety the elder lady became. The younger Miss Milward, for her part, did not strike the lover as unkindly disposed. Her eyes twinkled with amusement when they met his, and she bowed most graciously on his venturing to lift his hat. At length came an eventful morning. Miss Milward left a book on one of the seats near the band- stand, and the lover found it. He ran after the two ladies and returned the volume. The elder frowned, but his goddesß thanked the young Englishman cordially. He was in a seventh heaven of happiness, and finally reßolved on the desperate step of sending his beloved a basket of flowers. Actresses, < he reflected, never resented the homage of flowers. So a beautiful basket was selected, a card pinned thereto, and a housemaid bribed to give it into the younger Miss Milward's own hands. A few houra later Mr X. (he was a clerk in the Colonial Office) received a polite message from Miss Milward to visit their sitting-room. The duenna was alone, and on the table by her Bide stood X.'s flowers. The lady bowed stiffly. " You oblige me, sir, by your intrusive and ill-bred behaviour to betray our incognito. The lady whom you have taken the libertv of addressing is the Princess Maude of Wales!" Here the story ends. What the unfortunate lover said or did, deponent knoweth j not. j AN ELEPHANT ON THE LOOSE IN LONDON. | To go for a walk in London town with a couple of llamas and a monster bull elephant is (as Mr George Sanger's correspondence this morning doubtless proves) to assume a position of considerable responsibility. Yesterday afternoon Mr Turner (Mr Sanger's manager) rashly undertook to convey the aforesaid llamas and " Jim," the show's biggest elephant, to a circus in the suburbs. The llamas justified hist confidence, but " Jim," suddenly bellowing loudly, set him at naught. This was at 2.30, and till eight or nine" my lord the elephant " was a gentleman at large ; a " rowdy-dowdy boy " out on the loose nnd distinctly difficult to interfere with, .a the course of his progress "rhand the tahn" the noble beast executed a fantasia in Finsbury Park, the band-stand of which is now matchwood. In Highbury New Park seven prostrate walls attest his prowess, while j ihe havoc wrought in the gardens defies ; '■ -lescription. After quenching his thirst in ! -he New Eiver, "Jim" took his way viA ! ' Sewington Green and Dais ton lane to < 31apton. Here a young Irish student of ' < tfr Kipling's works, mindful of Mulvaney's I < ixploit on a musth elephant, interfered ' nth him. Jim flicked the audacious man j n the stomach with his trunk. It wrb a -

r slight, even playful blow, but it eent that . yon'h flying head over heels along the m road for nearly a dozen yards, and when . picked up ho had no wind left in him worth mentioning. His viewß of Mr 5 Kipling have somewhat altered. After a thiß none of the crowd who followed Jim i on his long walk thought it prudent 8 to try and personally influence him. At j Lee Bridge the elephant walkod into a stable yard, tho hu^e wooden doors of 0 which were promptly slammed on him. e "Caught at last" cried the perspiring ;. Woodville as he came up with his quarry. , y "Not so, sir" murmured Jim trumpeting sonorously as he walked through those • wooden doors. Like the baud-stand, they 3 may now be useful for matches. After • il this the lifting 'off their hinges of the t t gates to a cricket ground seemed a paltry • k . achievement and an incidental dance in the gardens of the Drapers' Almshouses ecarcely worth mentioning. At dusk Jim brought up ir inafieldatTotenham, whore the Menagerie ;o encamped two yeara ago. Here he Bhowed io symptoms of. fatigue, and after allowing •. . his keeper to chain his front legs together listened patiently to Mr Woodville'a re- _ proaches. Jim is seventy-five yeara of age, ~ a grand old Indian elephant who ought, as the manager remarked, to know better. • What the cost of his " little toddle in the .afternoon" will be Mr Sanger cannot, as yet, estimate, but it will be some hundreds of pounds.