Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1882-04-21
LONDON LETTER.
An Afternoon Stroll, st. Bartholomew
Hospital. Smithfield. The Market.
American Beef, Etc., Etc.

| LONDON, March 2Sth, 1SS2-There
are a number of things | might
write you about, items of news, of
scandal and Of general interest, but
am going to deny myself the p as
ure of commenting on this and that,
and shall only mention that the
death of Longfellow is as sincerely
mourned in England as it is in the
United States, and that yesterday,
almost in the heart of London, there
was prize-fght in a chapel.
Before the days get too long and
the sun too warm, and the thought
of summer drives from my mind
everything but thoughts Of summer
enjoyments, | want to put on record a
little, at least, to remind me in future
ofsundry winter strolls, taken at haz-
ard and now described at hazard.
My strolis, or l shall say our strolls,
We're generally taken in old dingy
quarters, in places where there
seemed to be no chance of any en-
joyment, but where there was plenty
to see and hear, and where, alas,
there was plenty to smell The
best time to start out was always in
the middle of some short winter
afternoon, when the sun had been
invisible all day, and when yellow,
clamny fog was lowering over and
filling in all available spaces. II
there was a cold drizzle falling
through the darkening fog, and if
the gas Jets were beginning to glim-
mer dismally i'll forlorn corners, SO
much the better.
So we often started out, first stop
ping few minutes at the Swan and
Horseshoe to get something warm
ing, and fancying that by so doing
we could keep away bronchitis and
kindred evils. Once while thus in
dulging, we heard on the other side
of the glass partition, a tremulous
request for another penn'orth of
gin and nub of sugar with soft
biscuit" She of the jersey, silver
bangles and enormous frizz, the fair
haired goddess who played on the
beer-engine behind the bar, was
flinty-hearted and the tremulous
request was quickly changed to
| abuse. Scuffles and Billingsgate
were then heard, and as we left the
bar and gained the street a police
man was dragging along the pave
ment the wretched bundle of rags,
while an old street hawker was adj
monishing its late companions, who
like SO many Pleasant Riderhoods
stood winding UP their hair prepare
tory to a final drink. Them as
drinks wi Sal Sadler is as bad as
she be, ]" said he, and on he trudged
through the close with his basket
on head, his poor old legs lettering,
and his weazened old face screwed
on one side as he shouted He
Haarrensl " He-Haarrensl Poor
old soul! So he has gone on for
years, now with behring's and now
with water creeses." Never shall
forget his cry. 1t will always make
me think of glistnening London
streets, of fog and rain, Of boots
down at heel, Of old ragged clothes,
of starved face and a blue nose.
We went past long grimy build
ing which every passing wagon or
cab seemed to have delighted in
splashing. We thought of Betsey
Prig,for the building was "Bartlemy's;
or, as some said, Barklemy's; or, as
some said, Bardlemy's; for by all
these endearing appellations had the
hospital of st. Bartholomew become
a household word among the sister
hood which Betsey Prig adorned"
The corner reached, we glanced at
the granite slab which stated that
within a few yards John Rogers,
John Bradford and others had suf-
ferred death at the stake. The wide
space before us, with long low build
ing opposite, and ragged fringes of
shabby houses at each side. was
Smithtield, once the smooth field
where tournaments were held, where
| Wat Tyler was slain by the brave
Sir William Walworth, where
Bloody Mary burned Protestants,
where Elizabeth burned Non-Con-
formists, where English wives were
once upon time put up at auction,
and where Bardlemy Fair used to be
held. Were it only light enough,
we might have seen, rising above the
dismal houses of Pye Corner, the
town of St. Sepulchre's, whence rang
that awful knell on hanging morn
ings at Newgate close BY, and
at whose porch the mocking cup of
water was given the wretches who
were on their way to Tyburn Tree.
Captain John Smith, of Pocahontas
memory, lies at rest in the church,
and on Snow Hill close by, stood
the old "Saracen's Head from
which Nicholas Nickleby, with
Squeers and Squeers, Jr., started for
! Dotheboy's Hall, long, long ago.
We might have gone further afeld
and visited Saffron Hill and Leather
Lane, and fancied we saw Fagin.
Sykes, Nancy, Charley Bates and
our only Artful Dodger, but ours
was short stroll, for the evening
was drawing in.
If it had been visiting day at the
hospital we should have seen hosts
Of old orange women, of flower girls,
all busy inducing intending visitors
to buy fruit or flowers Tor their
friends inside the capacious walls of
Bardleny's. If we had waited ten
minutes We should have seen some
poor soul on a stretcher or in cab,
the victim of some fight or street
accident, and now candidate for
Bardlemy's, and perhaps, for the
tender mercies of some young Saw
bones.
With only a glance through the
archway at the old church Of St
Bartholomew the Great, founded in
100, and the Oldest church in Lon
don, we passed on, and began to
jostle in and out amongst the bare
headed, CORY young meat porters of
Smithfield meat-markets, who after |
their work were INDUCING in luxur-
les at the Steaming cook-shops. |