Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1907-07-25
LONDON'S EAST SIDE,
Fearful Picture of Poverty AND
Dissipation.
A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE.

|
Cold Evening In Winter Disclosed tc
the Wayfarer In the streets-The
Hucksters and Their Customers.
Let me show you something which is
| more terrible than tragedy and more
| hideous than vice. 1t is a close wedged
| procession of thousands of happy but
| shabby men and women and children
| passing at a crawl between shop win
| dows and costermongers' barrows on
| a Saturday night in winter in south
| east London. The wind from the
| Thames blows hither- and thither the
| flames and naphtha lamps and makes
| them tug and hiss at the greasy burn
| ers It is bitterly cold. Women draw
| their gray shawls closer over their
| heads; men turn up their coat collars,
| hump their shoulders and thrust their
| hands deeper in their pockets, and the
| blue faced children squeezed between
| the legs Of the crawling multitude,
| SILVER and shuttle as they creep so
| slowly forward with chattering teeth
| and purple lips, which witch and
| shudder, half from cold and half from
| hunger
Look at some of the faces. The
women have their hair dragged back
| from their foreheads The eyes are
| hardly visible. The noses are short and
broad The blubber lips reach across
their swollen faces. The men have
| shifty eyes Their underjaws project.
| There is nothing in their faces which
! suggests dignity or kindness. On all
the faces you read satisfaction and
content Even the starving children
peep about with excitement.
On the top rail Of a stall, stuck upon
| hooks and just high enough to grin
| above the multitude, are the heads of
two sucking pigs. The eyes are half
| open and wear a CLASSY smile. Round
the rim Of the ears and at the edge of
! the open grinning lips is q line OF
blood. They seem to hang there like
the presiding deittes of the market, the
| gods of this sordid festival
Butchers stand before their open
| windows, calling loudly and briskly
for customers and reaching down joints
| Of meat from steel hooks, which they
| fine to a man inside to be weighed.
| Children. bareheaded and in rags,
| thrust themselves among the crowd,
offering beet roots on pieces of dirty
| newspaper. The street is filled with
| cries. There Is q smell of fish and
| fusty garments. Into our faces as we
| 40 forward foul, fat women with
| hoarse voices shove handfuls Of animal
matter-things all bloody and dreadful
| ana tell us that the cost is only two
| pence. At another barrow an old Wo-
man and her three daughters are sell
| ing for Dc MES, tWOpences, three
| pences and fourpences the lOathsome
oddments from their rag shop. Blouses,
stays, petticoats, nightdresses, trou-
| sers, Waistcoats and caps-all of them
so sodden and musty that we doubt If
| they would burn-are snatched up from
the wide stall, fourished in the light
Of the naphtha lamps and flung across
| to the highest bidder for few cOppers.
And, while this marketing is going ON
and while the air Is filed with the
| hoarse shouts of the hucksters, out
| from the public houses, like bees dis
lodged from a swarm, drop men and
| women, many of them carrying babies
in their arms, and SLOUGH away into
| the darkness Of some neighboring
court. The gin shops are crammed-
| crammed with men, women and chill
| dren. The more careful housewives
are lingering bits of meat scarce fit for
! lor~ \ 1I,o ,+1II hnrT
| have collected enough for Sundays
dinner, but when this is done they, too,
| fight their way into the gin shops and
drink till closing time. In and out of
the pawnbrokers' shops pass the moth
erS who wish to rescue their best
clothes for the Sunday. The money
lenders doors are never still. And the
crowd In the street grows denser and
noisier. The smell Of it fills the soul
| with nausea.
| A young man, with a child or two in
! his arms, comes out Of public house.
His wife and a girl friend follow after
| him, hooking him for going home so
early. The wife carries baby Of three
or four months in her arms. In the
| middle of the road the girls begin to
dance and sing. The husband turns
round and laughs. The child in his
arms, with dazed eyes, watches her
mother singing and dancing. The dirty
linen cap on the baby's head slips off
as the mother whirls about, and we
see the poor little bald head going
round and round in the glare Of the
naphtha. How that tiny brain must
swim! How it must wonder at the
shrill laughter of its swaying mother!
The baby is no larger than a skinned
| rabbit. Round and round, round and
round, to the shrieked tune of Sally,
Sally, Was In the Ballet" while the
| husband stands grinning and the girl
friend suddenly reels and goes down
behind a barrow, chuckling and ours
ing-Detroit News.
ITO the lamppost,"