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About The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 27, 1893)
1 '\ aftords -in excellent opportunity for the pick-pocket to get your watch. If you would he proof against his skill, be sure ., that the bow lor ring) is a This wonderful bow is now fitted to the Jas. Boss Fil!cv/3 Wntrh Cncos soldered to a piate of composition m> !ai. Look equally as well as solid gold cas.-s, and co d about half ns much. Guaranteed to wear 20 years. Always look f r this trade mark. -— Sold only through watch dealers. Ask any jeweler for pamphlet or send to the manufacturers. Keystone Watch Case Co., PHILADELPHIA. The Nervous System the Seat of Life and Mind. Recent Wonderful Discoveries. No mystery has ever compared with that of human life. Ithasbeeu the leading subject of professional research and study In all ages. But notwithstanding this fact it is not eener ally Known that the seat of lifolsloea ) ted in tho up per part of the spinal cord, near tho base of tho bra I d and so sensi tive is t h i t port Ion of tho nervous sys tem that even the prick of a needlo will causo Instant death. Recent discoveries have demonstrated that all tho organs of the body aro under tho con trol of tho nerve comers, located in or near tho base of tlio brain, and that when these are deranged the organs which they supply with nerve lluid aro also derauged. When It is re membered that a serious injury to tho spinal cord will cause paralysis of the body below the injured point, because the nerve force is prevented by tho injury from reaching tho paralyzed portion, it. will be understood how the derangement of tho nerve centers will came thederangement oftho variousorgatts which they supply with nerve force. T wo-thirds of tmronic diseases are duo to tho Imperfect action of the nerve centers at the base of tho brain, not from a derange ment primarily originating In tho organ it seif. Tuo groat mistake of physicians in treating these diseases Is that they treat tho organ rather than the nervo centers which are tho causo of t ho t rouble. Du. Franklin Miles, tho celebrated spe cial! d,has profoundly studied this subject for over CJ years, and lias mado many Important disco veries in connection with it, chief among them being mo facts cou'alned in tho a .ovo statement, and that tho ordinary methods of treatment are wrong. All headache, dizzi ness, dullness, contusion, pressure, blues, m inia, melancholy. Insanity, epilepsy. St. Vitus dance, etc., are nervous diseases no matter how caused. Tho wonderful success of Dr. Miles' Restorative Nervine is duo to tho fa-t that it. is based on thefnreeoing principle. Dii. Miles' Restorative Nervine Is sold by all druggists on a podtlve guaran’oc, or sent direct by Dr. Miles Medical Co., Elkhart, Ind.. on receipt of price, SI per bottle, six bottles for So, express prepaid. It contains neither opiate", not dangerous drugs. K> ' rs C~' - w a <: - jx: c-i i *n$ s 55. c < rs !■ »T.'«133»WJ»r —'Vwr.'<uo»8■BCE"**u/m.v «. —:z--a. You W/iFf Thf i £ ~ * £la .Air' —• ’.»-• Ex 'J TRY THIS, i EXPBItlXBNS'S ARj; DANCBROIJ3. DECAYS ARB SANGBROUS. TRY KO EXPBPI'TE'T'TG. EAKS NO EEL AYS. USE OREGON K3Di\'EY JEA, IT WILL. CL’XS YC’J Of Back-ache. TnfV'-r--::*; n of the Bladder & or Kidneys, Diabetes, l.osa of eiesh, Drops: calSwc!!:r.£TS, Constipnd. :..U complamls arising from a morbid condition of t!;e V •. ■ nary Organs. si ■} #' t ■iA 39_, Oar PCSTZCTifill SYMNGB free *!th mrrJMb. It clean. d»m not stain, prevents stricture. Cans GOSOutiKCEA sod GLEET in Oaa to Poctx dejt, A QUICK CUR* IbrLEUCOBRHIBA or WHITES. ^ „ . Sold be all DRUGGISTS. Seat to xoj Addraao R» ROB. gn.vnnfr MANUFACTUBOia CO, IiOWQQBTH. 0M> MY NEIGHBOR’S BOY. He seems to bo several boys in one, 80 much is ho constantly everywhere! And the mischievous things that boy has done No mind can remember nor mouth declare. He tills the whole of his share of space With his strong, straight form and hia merry face. He Is very cowardly, very brave; He Is kind and cruel, good and bad, A brute and a hero! Who will save Tho best from the worst of my neighbor’s lad! Tho mean and the noble strive today; Which of the powers will have its way? Tho world is needing his strength and skill. He will make hearts happy or make them ache. What power is in him for good or ill? Which of life’s paths will his swift feet take? Will ho rise and draw others up to him. Or tho light that is in him burn low and dim? But what is my neighbor's boy to me More than a nuisance? My neighbor’s boy. Though I have some fears for what ho may be. Is si source of solicitude, hope and joy And51 constant pleasure, because I pray That the best that is in him may rule some day. He passes me with a smile and a nod. Ho knows I have hope of him, guesses, loo. That I whisper his name when I ask of God That men may bo righteous, his will to do. And I think that many would have more joy If they loved and prayed for 51 neighbor’s boy! —M. Farningham in Christian Advocate. MAGIC I have intended to tell the story of lit tle Akli before. E don’t know why I haven’t done so, unless it has been be cause— But I will tell the story this time. I had been journeying through Egypt in company with my friend, Harry Kel lar, the magician. Wo were stopping at the quaint old town of Boolak, which is situated on tho right bank of the Nile, at tho divergence of its Pelusiac branch, one mile northwest of the historic city of Cairo, of which it forms a suburb. Our host was an Egyptian grandee, I whoso fine country place overlooked the shipping from just outside the more densely populated part of the town. One day we were strolling down near j the landings when an old Egyptian j market woman besought us to purchase ' some of her tamarinds, naming an ex orbitant price. “Why, my good mother, do you sell these tamarinds at that low figure?” ex claimed Kellar in mild surprise, ad dressing her in her own tongue. “They are worth much more than that, I am sure,” She looked surprised: so did our host. “Yes, I was sure of it,” Kellar con tinued, and he broke one of those that he had taken up and drew a small cop per coin of the country from its center. For a moment the woman was too startled to do more than regard the coin with wonder. Then, however, her nat ural avarice asserted itself, and she snatched the bit away from Kellar's un resisting hand. “Ah! I see you are a fakir,” our host said smilingly as we moved on “It was well done. Now I know that you and my other esteemed friend here will more than ordinarily enjoy the slight diver sion I have to offer for your entertain ment after coffee today. Perhaps, too, you may have the keenness—though it is not in me to explain the performance to divine how little Akli can survive the marvelous act Abalani forces him to do, and to discover how Abalani can perform his part of the strange enter tainment. But about the old market woman: A servant told our host later that she had hurried directly to her rude cot on our departure, where she had carefully opened every tamarind in her basket to find the copper bit in its center. The disappointment she suffered on not find ing a single bit of money and the loss of the spoiled fruit served her right for at tempting to impose upon the supposed ignorance of strangers. But Kellar was too large hearted to allow the lesson to be one that should make her the poorer, and the servant was dispatched directly to the old peddler’s home with more than twice the worth of the fruit in cop- j pers. That evening Abalani, the fakir, ar- j rived at onr host’s house. He was a small, wiry little man, whose age was about 45, if yon were to judge : it from the dark, clear eyes with which : he quickly summed you up. They seemed to pierce me through and through as he made a deprecatory bow before me, his thi# arms and palms extended toward me in the attitude of benediction. His only garments were a light breech- j cloth of a dark red shade and a flowing silk mantle, dark yellow in color. The only ornament he wore was a dark cop per ring hanging from his neck by a greasy looking piece of leather or cord. I looked for Akli, the little boy with whose assistance he performed the tricks we expected to witness. But Abalani was alone. I then looked for the coil of rope which I had heard played a part in the strange spectacle. The fakir had brought none. I said to myself that we were to be dis appointed. and that the little weazen limbed fakir had come to make excuses for his inability to amuse us this time, and I could see that Kellar thought the same. But our host retained his wonted good nature as though nothing was wrong, and it was not the place of either Kellar or myself to show disappointment. Meanwhile the little fakir led the way to a smooth bit of ground not far from the house. Here we almost unconsciously formed an expectant circle about him. Ho spoke few words, and we main tained a perfect silence under the spell the little fellow seemed to throw around him. But this was not the sensation of gazing upon a serpent that one experi ences when witnessing the performances of so many of his class. “My masters, you wish to see Akli climb?” he said in a crackling, restrained tone. “They do,” our host answered for us. The man clapped his thin palms to gether twice smartly. As he did so a small boy appeared by his side like a flash where there had been no one th i moment before. Kellar started forwai 1 with an involuntary ex clamation on his I'-'a. r. ’ ly startled. Tl - 1 !c in - . i . I .iy in his ... oo boy, a handsome lad of appu. 10 or 12, was similarly clothed. At my re quest he toek my hand and gave it a friendly pressure. “I must have a rope—must have a rope!” exclaimed Abalani nervously, and be gesticulated in the air quickly with his right arm, his actions seeming tc fascinate me. “Ah!" He ceased the action, and lowering his arm displayed a large coil of native rope in his hand that it would have been impossible for hiifc to have concealed about his person. Then, with a quick motion, he pitched one end of the coil straight up into the air. keeping the oth er end in his grasp. The line seemed to catch up thero in the atmosphere. It staid there dangling down between us. Abalani ordered Akli to climb up, hur rying him with a word of impatience and stamp of his foot. Akli shook the rope with one hand, as if to see if it were quite secure, and then (lid as ho was requested. Up, up, up, he clambered, higher and higher, gradually growing smaller and smaller as he ascended until he actually disappeared from view. Yet we could tell tiiat he was still climbing away up there, for the rope before us trembled with the motion that he made. Abalani did his best to study it. Then suddenly the fakir clapped his hands and sprang to one side. We heard the rushing sound of a body falling through the air, and then the form oi Akli landed upon his feet before us un hurt and smiling. Another clapping of Abaffini's hands, and rope and boy both disappeared. The fakir stood alone before us. Kellar and I were mystified. lie asked that Abalani perform the trick again. When it had been done a second time, Abalani left us as perplexed as before. For my part I gave the whole riddle up. I had seen many a strange feat of jugglery, but this one completely non plused me. Kellar was determined not to leave Boolak until he had satisfied himself r.s to how the trick, or feat, had been performed. A week passed. Our host enjoyed Kellar's quandary keenly as a boy, and joked him about it. However, kellar joined us on the porch one afternoon with a certain amused expression upon his face that made me feel reasonably sure that something interesting was up. “I should like to see little Akli climb just once more this afternoon,” he said, dropping into a low steamer chair with more satisfaction than I had noticed him evince for the past week, “Con and I should be leaving tomorrow or the next day at the latest.” To make known a wish there was to have it gratified. After coffee that aft ernoon Abalani came walking gravely up the shaded path, his slight figure clothed as before—in the flowing mantle and scanty breechcloth—that dark cop per ring, a snaue lighter in color than the breast it hung against, his only dec oration. As before, he was alone. There were the same low salaams, his dry, hard paims that were of almost the whiteness of mine being stretched over us. Few words were spoken. The man could not have been more deferential. But at the same time I thought that I detected a gleam of egotistical challenge in his dark eyes that made me hope Kel lar would succeed in detecting his trick and increased my desire to know how it was performed. We moved down to the place in the garden where we had witnessed the act before, Kellar slipping into the house a moment first. Little Akli appeared as bright and smiling as when we had first 6een him. The rope appeared, Akli had climbed it, when I heard a slight, sharp “click!” on the side where Kellar was standing. 'When little Akli had clam bered out of sight, Abalani clapped his hands twice. We shuddered as we heard the sound of Akli’s falling body. The rope had disappeared, and the little fel low stood there bowing before us. The next moment he was gone. Kellar hurried me into the house and to our room. The room had a dark closet, and soon Kellar was hold up a dripping 4 by 5 plate from his camera for me to view by the dim light of our ruby lantern. I could see our host, arms akimbo, i looking up wonderingly. I could see Aba lani—showing up white in the negative— his thin arms raised above his head, his feet braced widely apart, as they had been when steadying the rope for little Akli to climb when I had heard the shutter of the camera snap. But there was no little Akli to be seen anywhere, nor any rope, for that matter. Abalani had mesmerized our host, Kellar and myself, but it was beyond his fakir skill to mesmerize our detect ive camera.— Conyers C. Converse in New York Herald. Chinese Dudes. China is perhaps the last place in the world where one would expect to find dudes and mashers, but it appears that in Shanghai the gilded youth among the Celestials have adopted the masher cos iume. Very curious they look in their high collars and tight fitting coat=. They have also taken to wearing foreign un derclothing, eating foreign foods, smok ing foreign tobacco and doing many other things contrary to the old fash ioned Chinese usage. They also ride in foreign carriages, men and women to gether, and some of them live in foreign houses in grand style. There are alsc hundreds of schools kept hv Chinese where nothing but English is taught, that being considered the most useful language.—London Globe. A Gentle Hint. Aunty (shocked)—Do you and your sister quarrel over your candy this way when at home? Little Johnny—No’m. Mamma al ways gives us so much we both has plenty.—Philadelphia J£em. WILY HETTY GREEN. PECULIARITIES OF A WOMAN WORTH $60,000, oOJ. Slie I* Old Fashioned In Appearance, Se verely Plain In Dress, but the Personifl cath.n of Shrewdness When Financial Transactions Are Involved. Not ft small part of the fame of Brook lyn can be laid to the credit of the re markable women who have lived nn l live now within its borders—women who have taken rank and honor in almost ev ery walk of life. It is a well known fact that a very large proportion of tne real estate of the city is held in the names of women. It is not a widely known fact that the woman who is reputed to be the richest in the United States lives in the City of Churches and right in the clas sic section known as the heights too. Her wealth is variously estimated at from $40,000,000 to $60,000,000, and her name is Mrs. Hetty Green. Her name and personality are more familiar to Wall street than they are to Brooklyn society. That is because Mrs. Green has chosen to devote all her time to the man ipulation of her fortune and has let so ciety get along without her. Hetty Green at an Ihpetonga ball would cre ate a sensation indeed, but it is not like ly that such an occasion will ever be re corded by society writers. Hosts of people have brushed elbows with a shrewd and rather calm faced woman, apparently 50 years old, rather short, wearing a plain, old fashioned shawl and a bonnet so far beyond fash ion’s pale that no one would ever suspect it had been in it, even years ago. No body ever saw her with a dress which was not severely plain, and seldom has she been noticed when she did not carry an old style and well worn black satchel. Her appearance would never cause the uninitiated to think that she was any thing more extraordinary than an old fashioned woman of moderate mean3 and simple tastes, who was on her way to the corner grocery or the bakery on the block below. Yet, if money is pow er, this same staid looking person is one of the most powerful human beings in the country. In an old fashioned house on a corner in Pierrepont street Mrs. Green and her daughter Sylvia have lived for several years. The modest apartments they oc cupy are hired from a pleasant faced woman, who keeps the house and who has an admiration for Mrs. Green, which she does not conceal. The rich est woman in the United States has a son, who has been spending some time in Florida seeking to improve his health. Mrs. Green has been a widow for many years, and her daughter is about SO years old. Since the death of her hus band Hetty Green has become a finan cier of unusual shrewdness. She has in dicated by her actions that she has small faith in brokers, and that if she wants anything done the best way is to do it herself. The weather beaten satchel has carried secur'Mes representing millions of dol lars. It has knocked about New York and Brooklyn and other big financial centers with precious burdens, and Het ty Green has always had a tight grip o.i it. She does dot believe in spending her money on things she does not want, and as she wants very little she spends but little. Her children and her fortune are the sole objects of her solicitude. Mrs. Green is said to be very anxious to have her daughter become one of the leading actors in the famous Four Hundred of Manhattan island. Something of an ob stacle in the way of this is the daughter herself, according to report. Miss Green is credited with caring as little for the dazzle and newspaper notoriety of a so cial career as her mother. She is a girl whose tastes are quiet and to whom dress is a matter of little consideration. Mrs. Green, by way of a foundation for her daughter’s social debut, some time ago settled a large sum of money on that young woman in government bonds. The amount is stated to be $5,000,000. Incidents m the career of this remark able woman have stamped her as a bold yet cautious operator in stocks and se curities. When the financial panic of 1884 occurred, Mrs. Green had a large deposit in a firm of Canadian bankers named Cisco & Co. of New York. In formation reached her that the bank was in an unsafe condition, and without waiting to hear more she went to the in stitution and withdrew her entire de posit. Tho firm had no alternative, and after paying her her money was com pelled to suspend and finally failed com pletely. Hetty Green is the largest property owner in the city of Chicago. She holds title to block after block of land in the business section, and her son assists in looking after her interests there. For many years she lived in the western metropolis, and she spends much of her time there when away from Brook lyn. Her characteristic bargain with er. Judge Henry Hilton is fresh in the minds of financiers. Tho money which tho judge wanted so badly is generally con ceded to have been used in buying out the interest of his son, Henry G. Hilton, in the dry goods firms of Hilton. Hughes & Co. and Hilton Eros. He went to Mrs. Green, or his lawyers did, and made a request fora loan of $1,250.000in cash. Mrs. Green was willing to lend, but in sisted on having a mortgage on the mar ble palace at the corner of Broadway and Chambers street, New York, the Stewart building, which, with the land, is supposed to he worth $0,000,000. She would take no other security, and after a two months’ search of the title the lar gest mortgage ever given on a single piece of property in Now York was recorded. But Judge Hilton needed the money be fore the search had been concluded, and after he had placed in the hands of Hetty Green title deeds representing $15,000,000 worth of property she advanced him $800,000. And in addition to this the shrewd speculator forced him to sign a paper agreeing that she should hold the deeds until the mortgage was executed. —Brooklyn Eagle. UNCLE SAM’S MAILBAGS. When Worn Out, They Junt Regin to Re Really of Service. To see the government economically administered, go where they mend mail bags. 'When a mailbag is worn out, it is considered as just fit for service. A new mailbag is stiff, unyielding. When it has knocked about the world, had the starch taken out of it and its weak places discovered, it grows pliable, gives when it can’t force its way and is now prepared to do business successfully. Like a human being, the mailbag has had its experience. Tho most active mailbags now in tho service have scarce ly a hand’s breadth of the original fabric. The ordinary jute mailbag is mended by women. This is one of the now few branches of the public service outside of the civil servi ce rules. The women who mend mailbags are appointed by con gressmen or public officers in tho old way. A more democratic gathering can not be found in Washington, it is dirty if not difficult work. In the numbers of women clad in tlieir worst clothes, their heads bidden in paper fools’ caps with long curtains, their hands guarded by leather bauds and at work on sewing so rude that it seems like a travesty on the gentle art of the needle, it is difficult to detect from one another the delicately nurtured woman, the sturdy foreigner and the negro. They are all there work ing in perfect amity. Each woman sits on a low chair. She has exchanged her street dress for her working clothes in the commodious dressing room. She receives every morn ing a mailbag holding 10 bags. Five of these are comparatively good; live are more or less bad. It is a mild sort of lottery, which these women experi ence twice or three times a day, and tho element of chance is not the less excit ing though it lie in tho depths of a dirty mailbag. iJaii or good tho women are paid <U cents a bag. For tiio woman who can not earn at least §1.07 a day there is no place in this room. They earn on an average about $1.80 a day, and some women exceed this amount. Each wo man works with a darning needle and twine thread. Her first acquirement is the sailor’s stitch. With this she can patch, darn or embroider. When she has finished the bags, they are carried to a central table, where on a bulletin board her name is scheduled. There her work is examined by one of three men and checked off accordingly. Not all sew. Some string the bags at the neck and put on the tags and locks. Cue of these is a blind negress. She has not seen since a child, but she works rapidly and deftly while she tells with pride how she can embroider and sew at home. These women from such varied walks in life work together in perfect accord. When to the foreman the dusty air and unsightly work seem to have depressed the workers, he suggests to some one, generally a colored woman, to start up some music. The wave of sound gath ers until ihe whole room has joined in. It is usually a hymn, for hymns come most easily to women’s lips. The government is a kind taskmaster. The room is finely lighted and venti lated. Tho washrooms are abundantly . and finely equipped with marble mount ed sta1 ionarv stands. At noon a tea and colfee bureau is opened, and the workers have all tho tec. and colfee they desire at the expense of their country. Washing ton working hours are easy. Vacations of a month are given, and certain sick leaves are provided for. The sweat shops of the government, where the new mailbags arc made by contract, are in this city.—Now York bun. A Fcrujpan Superstition. The girl3 of tho Perugian highlands believe as firmly as any heroine of The ocritus that a person possessing a lock of another person's hair can will pain, disease and even death to the owner of the hair, and thus when maidens give their betrothed lovers the customary pilaited tress it is virtually their life and all their power of suffering that they give into those trusted hands. If the man should prove unfaithful and disease descend upon the unhappy w oman, sho is not, however, utterly lost, the experienced matrons of her village have means to transfer the complaint to a tree, to an animal or to cast it into running water. The patient must rise in the early dawn, touch a certain plant in a certain manner, saying, “May thou wither and 1 flourish again,” or bind her complaint to a tree in a given fashion, taking care never to piass again before that tree lest the disease, recognizing its former possession, return to her again.— Loudon Athenaeum. Ic-o Cream Poisoning. This is a reproach to tho professions of medicine and chemistry. Year after year, with mournful reiteration, there are many reports of fatal cases. The deaths from this source must immensely exceed those from hydrophobia, but Pas teur institutes spring up like mushrooms in every country, while the deaths of the victims of poisoning by the cream are passed over in silence. Wouhl it not be well to look into this matter? Would it not be well to prove or disprove the theory of a writer that the common ice cream freezer is often an electric battery decomposing toxic products by means of the mixture acting as an electrotype? —Medical News. A Stammering Mate. Hobbs and Dobbs were discussing men who stammer. “The hardest job I ever had,” said Hobbs, “was to understand a deaf and dumb man who stammered.” “How can a deaf and dumb man stam mer?” asked Dobbs. “Easily enough,” replied Hobbs. “He had rheumatism in his fingers.”—Lon don Tit-Bits. Lacking In Taste. Maud—Why did you break off yonr en gagement with Charley? Ellen—Well, you see he would wear shirts and neckties which didn’t become 1 ; my complexion.—Chicago Record. LONDON BY GASLIGHT SATURDAY NIGHT STREET SCENES IN THE CITY OF THE DOCKERS. A llri-ak lo the Tearful DrearliifNiThat Mark* the i.ifo of the Toiling Thuuu.- '* of tlio Cum; Side of l!i« limit Metro;i-P!.v Mimic, Sot. 4* and Dancen. The memory of a Saturday night tn the City of I he Dockers is like the recol lection of a troubled dream, for on i’ ? last night of the week the great, hot Rh-opts are filled with Uie pentup life of COO,000 houses (one cannot call them homes), and all the varied phases of this hand to hand straggle for existence ap pear. The (locker is prodigal of his few shillings on Saturday night, tho maxi mum of his liberality being show a most often in the public house and on the catch penny street conjurer, wbil’ the minimum is apparent at the stalls of the grocer and butcher. But.men, wom en and children are out on thc;‘r. and, whatever else it be, Saturd y in,..at is something of a break in the fearful dreariness that marks the life of the east London toiling thousands. Tho people love music. Their inter pretation of music is rather rough and loud. Tho bass drum of every baud that parades in a labor demonstration of a Sunday gets terribly punished before the day is over, but it commands agio- . fol lowing, and on Saturday night the .- I reef musicians ami singers easily gather tli.-ii crowds and reap an abundant harvest The barrel organ is found every and wherever it is rattling out the popu lar “Daisy” or “The Man Who Broke the Bank at -.Ion; Carlo” tho sidewalks will be crowded, while two or three couples of liLtlo girls dance on the ti. g stones. A early every girl ot 8 can dance, many of them have already appeared in puulhs at the cheat) concert halls, and i > , watches them, lialle.su, dirty, i..rl wii i faces beaming with delight, he doe." i.ot know whether to bo glad of their joy <r to pity their hollow present and hopple s future tho more. Often a part ia mesa street dances will he taken by the h r girls, factory girls, as they are all called iu east London, who are out in crowds ou Saturday night. They are :.:i - tamed, fantastic iot. All wear c-i:.:•■ as hats, adorned wi.h feather:--, and train their hair about the forehead by curb: < it forward quite fiercely. They are::: tensely loyal to tho customs and tradi tions of their own “set,” and f<>rcui :.s they are to subsi.-t on an income of C to 8 shillings per week they are a vexing problem to the e at London philanthro pist and reformer. Besides the burr. 1 organs, there are violins, accordions and a):y number of soloists unaccompanied by an iti.v,. inent. Blind women, old men and tic poor wrecks of this awful struggle for existence here stand at the curbstone and in weak, thin voices sing their songs. The restless crowd moves ou, save wo . some one more curious or more kindly than the rest stands near to look or Tx ten. A bent woman, whose thin shawl was thrown over her shoulders, was feebly singing some old song in the midst of the jostling throng around a public house. I saw a strong young girl of 14 come kindly toward her, drop a penny in the little box held by the f..c’ L hand and then hurry away out of r■*’•*. Happy will the strong young lass be if the swirl of the turbid stream of east London life does not bring her some time to the place cf the curbstone singer, in deed there is no place that 1 have ever seen where mirth and patho3, vice red virtue, meet and mingle as on these streets in a night like this. One sees very little begging. There is not much street begging anyway— there’s no use begging; the people are too poor. The mendicant flees Can-ing town for the wealthier residential quar ters. Of course the children beset one. The sidewalk artist is sometimes found, but the most common form of appeal is from the ragged little fellows who turn, handsprings or stand ou their heads for you. They really do their athletics very nicely, and there is somethin')- so appealing and “old mannish” in their looks that it is hard to resist them. 1 was hurrying through the crowds in Victoria docks one night about lb wV-n a boy of 7 came out and ran bee ■■id" v •• relating 6ome sort of veise, I thougut. Three repetitions made it clear: Ha’p'ny won’t 'wit yer. Penny won't break yer, Tu'p’nce won’t Bend yer t* the work’us. He was evidently working on a “grad uated scale of benevolence ad;.; ' •’ o the abilities of the donor.” I believe bv the emphasis laid on the last item that he estimated mo from my gold ’ spectacles at tu’pence. The harrows of east London delicacies abound in the streets where mar’y.’ug goes on. The woman who sells cold pickled pigs’ feet is in fair demand. The man who retails shrimps at a pt: a bag gets a good trade, but the coup’s who preside at the barrow filled with “cockles and winkles” have their • -mis full. The delectable mollnsks ere dis played on little dishes as large ..s m : vidual butters,” with a bit of garni- i....g of parsley, and are eaten with vinegar a the spot. These barrows are found < sp< i i..i!y ; . the entrance of Victoria Docl sronl.a great marketing place in Canning tov. n on Saturday night. Clothing (v< and shoddy and called “slops”), little tools for household use, cheap laces, r'. berts, “red bandanna” liandkerchieis and horn combs are some of the ...., y articles sold from barrows in ti t; s;;- ., outside tlie regular shops form' ;t. fruit and fish. On the whole, trade is earned on with great briskness, but mere ;;ni etly than in market streets at hom** The butchers are the most noisy. TLcj delight in wearing tail hats and r ; r ing odd calls at the full of their lungs. A penny is the standard unit here la Canning town. The buyers are poor, and everything that can be called at 3 penny is. A common cry is; A penny a pun, a pun a penny, at the barrows, where a pound of any thing can be sold at this low Hartford Courant.