Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1869-10-05
Sunday in Seven Dials.

Sunday in Seven Dials.
In the London Christian World, we
find a graphic picture of the deplor-
able Sabbath scenes in this neighbor-
hood, which is the Five Points of Lon
don.
Seven Dials on Sunday morning
Why, surely it is a market day-a fair,
dog-sale, an open-air bazaar. No,
it is Seven Dials on Sunday. What
crowds Of people, what shouting, what
buying and selling! To a visitor from
Devonshire valley, a Yorkshire dale,
Or Highland glen, the uproar is
simply astounding. Hundreds of the
poor are buying and selling ell kinds
Of things as fast as they can. Nearly
every shop is open; hatters, butchers,
bakers, shoe-makers, clothiers, con.
tectioners, grocers, bird and dog fan
cicrs, drapers, cheesemongers and
newsvenders, are eagerly competing
for the poor mans shilling. Little
Earl street swarms with people selling
fish, combs, vegetables, walking sticks,
pictures. bootiaces, onions, braces and
other sundries. In Great st. Andrew
street crowds Of rough loungers are
making bargains for dogs, ferits, birds,
and rabbits. In Great Earl street
you may buy furniture, beds, old keys,
boots and shoes, and many other ar
ticles of a similar kind BARRIERS
shops, butter shops, and grocers'
slops, flourish in Great White Lion
street. Returning to Seven Dials we
find the crowd greater than ever. Ev-
crybody seems to make a noise The
butchers shout, Buy buy what'Il you
buy ?" The fish hawkers, the cheese,
mongers, and the newsboys try to
shout louder than the butchers, and
they do it. Babel is come again, and
the deafness would almost be a CON-
fort. But another aspect of Sunday
life begins TO force itself on our at
tention, namely, plcasure-taking. This
is the day for an outing" Men with
fishing rods and lads with tin cans go
hurrying past. They are off to Horn
sey, or Lea bridge, or Hampstead, for
a days sport, such as it is. Omnl-
bnses, traps, cabs, carts and vans,
thunder across Seven Dials all of them
laden with smoking. noisy people, and
very drunk some of them will be when
they return home from the sweet
country. 1t is one p. m. Alas that
is the golden hour to many-the hour
when beer and gin may be sold across
the counter to thirsty souls. Since
II 80 crowds Of men aud women too,
have been eonverging towards Seven
| Dlals, and getting nearer and nearer
the doors of the gin-shops, and bar
maids and potboys have been dressing
for the opening portals of the GIN
temples. One! Open 60 the doors
and in rush the crowds, and soon
smoking, drinking, gabble and loud
laughter mark the commencement of
revels which will blight many a home
and break many heart. But these
people eat as well as drink. Down
the Streetup the street, and across the
street, fit husbands and wives with
hot dinners fresh from the bakehouse.
Beef, mutton, pork-but beef by pref.
erence-form the staple dinners of
those who dine at home. Many Of
them do not. The cook-shops are
open too, and do a rare business. 1t
is ten p. m. There is door banged
window broken. shout, then roar
of voices, and a sudden rushing of
feet. 1t is a fight Joe the blacksmith
and Bill the plasterer "are at it pell
nell. In a moment the street is full
of yelling crowd. "Give it him
Joe," is shrieked out by mad women
drunk with gin, and heavy blows are
heard as the men beat each other witt
tremendous force. Up come some O
: the police, and all is over. But botl
Joe and Bill are the worse for the
fight. 1t is eleven p. m. The public
houses send forth great crowds Of
! drunken people, thieves prowl about
L fallen women in gay attire roll home
stupid with wine, homeless children
fall asleep on doorsteps, hawkers will
empty baskets and sore feet limp to
: wards the cellars where they live an(
die. the omnibuses ceases to thundel
past, the last reveller staggers into th'
!. passage of his house, the silent police
: men watches lest some thief shoult
slip III, knock him down and rob him
and as twelve o'clock booms forth
a our visit to Seven Dials on Sunda,
i comes to an end, and we return hom
i sad-very sad. for have not We seel
sad things?