BRIGHT STREET ARAB.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 50, 12 December 1891, Page 691

BRIGHT STREET ARAB.

There are various sorts of punishment, and when a gentleman tries to be funny in some disgraceful way, he is apt to receive his just dues in the way of personal mortification. Loid Charles Beresford and Mr Gerald Coxe, two wellknown society men in London, were taking a walk together, when a little crossing sweep asked them ‘ for tuppence.’ ‘No,’ said Lord Charles, gruffly, ‘l’ll not give you a penny '.’ Then a bright idea occurred to him, and he added, ‘ You see that constable yonder. Well, if you'll go and mop your broom up and down his back, I ll give you half a crown.’ The boy rushed away, promptly performed the act, and was as promptly arrested. Lord Charles, his conscience pricking him, went over to remonstrate with the officer, and was himself taken in charge. Mr Coxe then attempted to throw in a few dissuading words. ‘ Aha !’ quoth the officer. ‘So you want to interfere, do you ? Well, I fancy I shall have to run you in, too.’ So the three culprits were conducted away to the police station. The inspector in charge there gazed at them austerely. ‘ So you’ve been interfering with the constable ?’ he said, with solemnity. ‘ A serious charge ; a very serious charge ! Now tell me, sir, what is your name ?’ ‘ Mr Gerald Coxe,’ answered the gentleman addressed. Now this name was perfectly well known to the inspector, • and it seemed to him extraordinarily funny that it should be claimed by a man who would take the part of a crossingsweep. ‘ Oh, you’re Mr Gerald Coxe, are you ?’ said he, sarcastically. * Yes, you look like Mr Gerald Cox ! Very good ! Capital I And who are you, sir ?’ ‘ Lord Charles Beresford,’ answered that gentleman. This, in the mind of the inspector, deepened and complicated the joke. ‘ So you’re Lord Charles Beresford !’ he chuckled, grimly. ‘ Well, this is splendid ! You look like Lord Charles, you do ! Splendid ! splendid ! Now tell me,’ he added, turning to the small boy, ‘ what’s your name ?’ The ragged urchin was in a serious quandary. He looked at Lord Charles and Mr Coxe. ‘ Look a-here,’ he said, ‘ I don’t know who ye are or what’s yer game, but I ain’t a goin’ back on a pal !’ Then, turning boldly to the inspector, he said, in a tone full of heroic confidence, ‘ I’m der Dook of Wellington !’