Worcester daily spy., 1872-12-02

London at Night.
LONDON, Oct. %, 1872
Ii is eleven O'Clock at night; | am in Drury
Lane. This is the well known Drury Lane the
atre, low, black dingy pile, which but for the
columns in front might he taken for a ware.
house. Red coated soldiers patrol about the
building. For this is the royal theatre and a
guard is always stationed about it at night dur
ing the performance. pass up Drury Lane.
The midnight world of London is all astir; twO-
thirds of the loiterers in the street are femaIes
half grown girls and boys are rollicking and
lounging in doorways. The chief play spell for
boys and girls in the country is at twilight, in
Drury Lane it is anv time after gaslight. Limp,
seedy women hang about the gin palaces; there,
they meet for gossip day and night; they "treat'
each other or importune some one to treat
them.
"1Ou said you would give me a penny, last
night, and III take il now" says one of this
class to me as pass by. Thev are very socia-
BILE. The merest casual glance brings them TO
conversational terms. This one is bareheaded;
her face is puffy; Der complexion dead and tai
lowY; the next remove in the life of her gown
must be TO the paper mill; perhaps you will
Write love letters on some portion of its changed
form. Three Others of the same sort pass me,
arm-in-arm, yelling song at the top of their
voices. They are Simply drunk, Mind, these
are NOT dangerous women even to the most un-
sophisticated youth, with the perfume of coun-
try clover and violets fresh upon him. they
are too coarse. degraded and dirty for that
They live simply for beer and gin. How they
obtain this, their only luxury, seems a mystery
until reflection bids one consider that even
worms have congenial helpmates, and that
among the most reckless a few pence will circu-
late with far greater rapidity than among tine
temperate and frugal. Here, on the corner,
stands murphy buster" an apparatus for
roasting potatoes. 1t is built after the model of
locomotive. l scent the peculiar fragrance of
the roasted tubers. The furnace sheds red
rlotsr n1nr ,l,aI
by the wheels of the "engine," utilizing its heat,
ior the night air is damp and chill.
On the next corner is a stand full of little
plates holding boiled wrinkles picked from the
shell. penny plate, with vinegar thrown
in The eel pie and stew kitchens are full of
customers They are the people who have
earned a few pence at sweeping crossings, hold
ing cab doors whilst the passenger alights, sell
ing button hole bouquets or matches The eel
stew is ladled out of great tin boiler at a penny
| bowl. Look down those dark lanes. They
seem to lead to murder, pestilence, and sudden
| death. Groups Of bare-headed slatterns stand
| at their corners. The sidewalk is Just wide
| enough for one. We slip on cabbage leaves and
| other garbage. These are the abodes OF the
| lowest order of civilized beings. Civilized2
| The South sea hath islands whose natives are
| gentler, more cleanly, more refined. There is
| an atmospheric sensation here of grime-grime
| on the walls, on the windows, on the people, on
| everything. 1t is the accumulated CRIME of
| generations. One is constantly uneasy in these
| places at night, lest a window overhead opens,
| accompanied by an election Of Stops, to be in
| range of which would be worse than garrOting
| Here is an open door. Look in. There is an
| squalid he'd and chair aud table, and coored
| punt over the mantlepieCe, cine Return of the
Prodigal SON" n. b When will 1t be the cor
rect thing to slay the lymphatic calf for repent
| art and prodigal daughters?
This is the abode Of one of her maiesty's sub
| jects-an English woman She is not old. She
| Is not ugly though beer has left its traces on
1 her face and form. A policeman approaches.
| de addresses her: Nov, see here, if | catch you
out of your door again I'll run you in And
| all along the lane, as far as you can see in the
| fog and darkness, you behold these squalid
women Sinking IN the doorways as the reOre-
| sentative of law and order approaches. We
| emerge into a more frequented thoroughfare.
| More murphy busters" and wlnkle stands.
| More eel Stews and fried fish shops. Young
| girls with pitchers are Scuddng to and from the
| public houses. They are after the midnight ale
Tor the older people, lti now past eleven, and
at twelve the beer palace must close. Such is
the new law.
Street bands of negro Ministries are performing
| under the lighted windows Or one all by him
| self thums his banjo in the half opened door
| of bar room. Scarce n street is free from the
| sound of harp, hurdy gurdy or violin. These
are the midnight entertainments for the mil
| lion. You would think they would grow weary
| OF these things. But there seems always a
| group to collect about and listen.
| We pass along. The girl who marches boldly
| uD to us is about on the third downward plane.
| She is not SO low as those we left few mo-
| ments since in the lane. Her complexion is
| still fresh; her attire is fashionably cut; it has
been newer; like the wearer it has begun to
| show the opening buds of seedness. She
| speaks; Come, Bub, treat us now to mug of
ale, won't you? 1t is awful cold and | amt
| got any MONEY!" So she halls every hating
| bp i,n xript o,,fr
perseverance. The coming man will come along
| by and by who will treat. Here is "rhe We'll
| linston. Noted House Tor Tarter sand Ales."
More women gossip under its windows. The
| Retail Entrance" is full; the jug and Bottle
| Department is full. The private Bar" is full.
Such are the usual compartments of a London
| bar room.
Some would term these squalid women thus
| drinking and carousng until midnight wretch
| ed creatures" But amid all their rags, tags,
| dirt and CRIME, they do not seem wretched.
| Wretchedness implies personal misery and dis
tress. Rich men, well fed, in fine linen and
| purple on their noses with great ventures at
stake are sometimes wretched. But these peo-
pie among whom take my daily walks in the
| Seven DialS and elsewhere, seem night and day
| jolly and happy. Their tongues are always
going and in the street at least, they laugh
often than they cry. If they ever bemOan their
| poverty and squalor, they do it in q lump and
then cry quits. | think sometimes that eleva-
tion OF any sort bring the most care and unhap-
pness.
Socially and financially, and probably moral
| ly, these people are down to the bed rock. But
| that doesn't seem TO trouble them. They were
| born and always expected to stay there. They
have never "lallen." They were never on
a moral elevation to fall from. They are inno-
| Gently irregular and improper, perhaps wicked,
| like tigers, rartlesnakes and pigs. Talk to them
| about a clean house! Thev couldn't stay in
one. 1t would feel unnatural. 1t would be
| hke putting pig IN paror. OF course, the
| creature would grunt and squeal for his straw,
| and would sadly miss the luxury of wadiHg
| knee deep in muck. do not believe that tine
| Dfury lane and Seven Dials bed rock stratum
| of poverty in London suffer half as much as
| does INDECENT gentility. GIVE the bed rock a
| shilling per day and 1t can live on it. Two her
| rings may be had for penny and loaf Tor two
| pence. There's fuel enough to insure the pro.
| ducnon of the breath of life for twenty-lour
| hours. Three and six per week pays room rent,
| that extent being shared perhaps between half a
dozen. There is no style TO be kept up. The
| whole occupation OF existence is coarse animal
| enjoyment Their midnight supper OF hot
| fried fish, at penny plate, and half pint OF
porter for another penny, tastes as good as
| grouse and champagne. They have no charac-
| Ter to maintain, or rather they have but one
character TO maintain, and that a bad one,
| which it is easy enough for them 10 do. Fasn-
| ashamed of rags. Congenial association is
plentiful. Night and day the street furnishes
something interesting and exciting. No, they
are not wIetched. Thew have nothing 10 be
wretched On.-C Correspondence San francisco
| Ru1Iofj7,