SWINDLERS AND THEIR SWINDLES.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XXI, Issue 3668, 26 October 1897, Page 4

SWINDLERS AND THEIR SWINDLES.

(Bt “ Boondi.” An up-to-date philosopher recently remarked: In former times we. had the Stone Age, The Iron Age, the Mediaeval Age, and the Golden Age ; but it seems to me that the preseut is the Age of Fakes and Shams, 000 Of late years, however, there has come to light a new style of fakes and shams so original, so scientific, and so artistically audacious that it traps thousands of the smartest city people whose chief amusement lies in laughing at the greenness of their country cousins. 0 0# A modern Aisop tells the fable of a feather-headed old rooster, who was once perched on a high fence carefully out of reach of a very demure and innocent-looking fox who was moaning about below. “ Ah,” said the fox, looking up, ,- you should be truly thankful, my prudent friend, that you are out of reach of my capacious jaws.” “ I am indeed grateful,” replied the rooster, “and I feel inclined to congratulate myself upon my shrewdness.” And thee he proceeded to show how pleased he was by. crowing so enthusiastically that he Tell off the fence and was well oanght by the clever fielder underneath. And as tho fox picked his teeth with a bone, after srnnptously dining off the over-confident fowl, he sapiently said : “ There are many ways of working the good old confidence trick indeed.” 000 Beyond doubt there are a great many ways of performing that profitable trick, and unfortunately there are a great many clever exponents of the game in Sydney as well. They are to be seen iu dozens any day, hug ng round the G.P.0., shepherdiig the front doors of the banks, and prowling about where “fiats” as • mble and almost invite the “ flatoiUhers ” to come and fleece them.

Like the wily fox iu the fable, the Sydney sharper knows that the ways of working the confidence trick are infinite, but he has little need to tax his ingenuity in this line, for no “ fairy tale ” is too ancient or too absurd for a country gobemouche to swallow.

Only last week a victimised man explained at the Central Criminal Court that while out of work he had the luok to meet with a friend who offered him £2 a week to go to West Australia. Having dosed with this, the two friends sat down in Hyde Park, cheerfully dismissing how they would enjoy the fortunes that awaited them in the “ Golden West,” and, of ooursc, the inevitable guileless straneer soon oame along, and in a sudden burst of confidence deolared his name was Green, and he lived in West Australia, where he had made “ a mint of money.” The usual adjournment to a snug little back parlor was then made, and here another piece of good fortune awaited the man, for while the three friends were drinking to each other’s better acquaintance, in walked a good-hearted soul who was so delighted with the appearance of the company present that he frankly declared that he had a rich uncle, who left him an immense fortune on condition that he was to assist struggling working men whenever he met them by giving them £1 eaoh for every £1 they had honestly earned and saved.

Moat persona would feel sure that even the Soudan donkey would kick the head off anyone who “ pitched ” such an outrageous story to him, but this one swallowed it atone gulp, and shortly afterwards drew his hard earned pile of £156 out of the bubk, and carried it round to the hotel, where he had arranged to meet his newly-found friends. Some light refreshment haring been discussed, the millionaire announced he was ready to carry out the terms of his good old uncle’s will, and with a thrill of joy the jay placed his roll of notes in the hat. The other men put rolls of paper on the table, and the shark immediately grabbed the lot, and made a bold rush for the street and was never seen again.

Shortly before this tale, another verdant visitor, who was gaping with staring eyes and open mouth into a window containing a lot of South Sea Island curios, was accosted by a plausible party, who remarked: “ Those simple savages oan turn out some neat bits of carving, can’t they ? ” Instead of clearing out of danger at once, the “ softly ” spoken to began to describe the wonderful works he had seen fellows in the backblocks turn out with nothing but a pocket-knife and a few chunks of wood.

This interested the city man so much that he begged his new acquaintance would honor him by accepting some fiuidioal refreshment, and while the “ rosy ” was being surrounded a stranger, who was sitting in a corner reading a paper, was so excited by the talk he heard respecting enrio carving that, after apologising tor the intrusion, he produced a queer-looking heart - shaped wooden match - box, which he said had been given him by the great Maori chief, Ranja Panja, and no one but himself could open. Two other strangers here took part in the conversation, which became so animated at last that the owner of the marvellous match-box excitedly pro posed that all present except himself should place all the money they had upon them in his hat, and the man who first opened the box should take the lot.

This was done, the amount staked by the intended victim being £l7 10a, and the trial of skill began. So eagerly was each attempt watched that no one paid any attention to the stakeholder, and this probably hurt his sensitive nature, for he walked off with the pool without bidding anyone good-bye, and the young man from the country had to pawn his watch next day to raise the necessary funds to take him out of further danger. This hoary old swindle is one by which the sons of Belial used to win the wages of the men who built Noah’s Ark, and yet hardly a week passes without its being profitably worked in Sydney. The explanation of it is this : The sharper has two boxes. One cannot be opened by anybody except with an axe, for it is solid. The other can be opened by pressing a small spring, and this box is freely passed round until the money is staked and the time for action comes. Then a little bit of “ palming ” brings the solid box into the game, and— “ down goes M’Ginty” without any further trouble.

Along the wharves the Sydney sharpers gather in a deal of spoils, and the Police Court records are full of heartless barefaced swindles worked on fool headod visitors who were within an ace of getting clear of the city’s villainy scot free. Here is one specimen of the wharf-worriers’ wiles, and from one judge all. It was the busiest part of a busy day, when an old miner named William Nuggets stopped a stranger in York street and asked to be directed to the Union Wharf, as he intended to leave by the Hauroto for New Zealand that afternoon. By the greatest good fortune in the world the honest man accosted happened to be jogging along on the Bame errand, and so the pair stepped off as friendly as if they had been ship mates on board the Ark and hadn’t met since that ancient vessel ran on the rocks of Ararat.

To crown the old man’s good luck, his companion soon ran up against his own brother, and the worthy pair then informed their newly-found friend that their name was Fairboy, and they oretty nearly owned all New Zealand jetween them. Nuggets, feeling that he was the luckiest dog alive that day, at once blabbed all his business, and the brothers declared that they would take him under their protection and make him mining manager of one of th 6 meny claims they had in the colony. That fixed the old fool’s flint entirely,

and he wanted to go over in the roadway and stand on his head or climb up a-lamp post and whoop for joy at the good fortune which had so providentially thrown him in tho way of two such rich and generous souls. He had read of similar strokes of good luok in fairy tales and the like, but who would ever dream of plain old Bill Nuggets being the hero of such a true yarn as this ! He felt that he would have to whoop or break something to prevent himself" from going mad with joy-

Just as the old man was about to jubilate, however, a third man stepped up and informed the elder Mr Fairboy that “ those goods had been sent on board the steamer, and there was £24 10s to pay on them.”, This seemed to annoy Mr Fairboy greatly, because ho had nothing but a £5 note and some silver on him, but old man Nuggets was hankering after that mining manager’s billet as badly as Sancho Panza ever yearned for the governorship of his promised island, and so drawing out £l9 from his purse he implored his plausible friend to accept the money until it pleased him to return the paltry amount.

After that all the good luck seemed to fall to the lot of the brothers Fairboy. One of them suddeuly caught sight of a man to whom he wished to say au revoir , and so he rushed along the street and round the nearest corner, while the other brother (in villainy) asked the victim to wait on a pathway while he went into an adjacent store for a valuable parcel, and right there the whole adventure ended. Honesty may be the best policy, but second best is quite good enough for the swindling swells of Sydney.