The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1873-08-21

The Haymarket is ashort but spe-
eious thoroughfare, touching a. one
end Pail Mall and at the other abut-
ting upon Tichborne st. In The day
time it appesrs to be sufficiently
dull and respectable street. It Is the
night side of the Haymarket which
has given the neighborhood its pecu-
liar notoriety. When tho lamps are
lit, and the moonlight plays fantasnic
tricks among the carved figures on
the Opcra-house; when the print
shops are closed, and the shutters up
at the Civil Service Stores; when the
canary man has gone, and the propri-
etor of the mice is ut home educating
new performers, when the neutral
philosopher-long ago retreated-is
perchance following up some discov.
cry that may restore sight to his dis
abled optic; when bars and supper
rooms and cafes throw out foods Of
light upon the pavement crowded
with sauntering figures; when the air
is heavy with cigar smoke and filed
with the rnstie-rustk of stiff silks-
then the Haymarket Is the Hsymarket.
What we see we may report-but
not overminutely; and Is for comment,
we had better omit any. So, UNDER
standing our duty, we wander thro'
the crowd. 1t is nearly midnight. A
considerable stream is pouring into
the Haymarket from Great Windmill
Street, in which thoroughfare is situ-
ated q large dancing saloon known Is
the Argyle rooms, and licensed BY an
an act Of George III. Observe how
many of these leaders of the demi-
monde drive away in their own pri-
vate broughams. Note the mono
grams on the panels and the neat liv-
cries Of driver and footman. A crowd
clusters round the entrance of this
licensed establishment to watch the
ladies, some Of its number
feeling flattered if they should receive
from one of them nod of recognition,
q tap of the fan, friendly wink. The
attendant policeman finds il difficult
to keep the roadway clear. Like Fas-
tidious Brisk, in Euery Man out Of
his Hun,or, he s'swears terscly and
with variety" But his efforts are
Intellectual. Till the last brougham
has driven away, till the last anony-
ma unattended has tripped of, till the
lights are turned out, the little crowd
will gather round . corpse, or hang
about the door of . house where
murder has been done. Remember.
ing which, one shudders and turns
away. And from what class Of society
are the incomes drawn to pay for
these broughams, for these jewels, for
these dresses? From every class. It
is openly visited-this haunt-by
men Of wealth and of what is popu-
larly denominsted "spotless reputa-
tion.' That big burly man with the
florid complexion is Sir -, . cell
cbrated city banker. He spends the
early part Of the evening behind the
scenes st one of the theatres. He 10
finishing up the night here. That
evil-visaged and elderly person with
his hair brushed over his temples
might have been coster r-monger, but
is in reality lord. He has been
mixed up in variety Of shady trans
actions, the most notorious being that
of the famous "Restorer Of Youth"
who has been recently liberated from
Newgate. On each arm hangs . girl
smoking cigarette. The combined
ages of his proteges would not reach
his own by ten years. Tonight he
patrols the Haymarket; tomorrow
night he will be making laws for the
government Of Britain. He is ono of
our hereditary legislators. Yonder
20 couple of Foreign-O Office clerks,
members Of the staf noted - being
the best dressed and most empty
headed in London. The number Of
old men to be found here always ex-
cites astonishment. How their white
hesds-in few years to be laid un-
der the sod--coDtrast with the faxen
or auburn or black tresses of their
companions! but how well harmonic
ed are their senile mumblings with
the hard, hollow, ringing laugh Of the
danes! The laugh heard here is the
most dismal cachinnation ever utter
ed. 1t reminds one of Swinburne's
line
Laughter heard far down in He'll"
In this revel Of Gree strange char
acters meet. Billiard markers iostlc
marquises. Clerks smoke cigars under
the noses of merchants, and as the
crowd slowly passes up and down in
two unceasing streams the buzz of
conversation surges, the hollow laugh
is repeated; all is motion and gayety
and abandon. "Let us be merry, for
Tomorrow we die!'