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H 10 GOODWIN' S WEEKLY. ' Three London Cameos Hi M , iB Wilfred Ewart. H I The Comedy of London THE court is stuffy, but tho people are stuffier, mM it is all close and crowded and complicated. H The magistrate is a stuffy old gentleman with H an official voice; the usher is a stuffy old gen- H tleman with an official voice; so is tho clerk; H so are the solicitors and the barristers. H There are, of course, degrees or qualities of Hi stuffiness about them. His Worship, in addition H' to whiskers, wears a respectable black tie with H a pearl pin in it; the usher looks dismal in a H' kind of shroud; the clerk is just a clerk; the H legal lights are as dim and obscure as possible H and scrupulously untidy. Except for the smart H young policemen sitting in rows along a bench, H there is an air of frowsiness about the place. H Just as if tho whitlows had never ibeen opened, H and all the people in court had never been out of Hi court, but had passed their lives there which, H as looks go, they might very well have done. H "Victor Erasmus Charles Stuart Fish, No. 8 H charge," calls out the goaler, and an infant of H lively mien but diminutive stature (with an un- WM mistakable squint) steps Into tho dock. His Kfl largo head barely shows above the rail, his small 9 body assumes a jocular pose of devil-may-care H bravado. - j j I H It seems that this young person has "pinched" H the amount of one pound seven-and-sixpence, en- H trusted to him by ' too-confiding employer. It H seems that he divideu the "wag" among picture H palaces, tripeand-onions and a revolver. It H seems that he is quite unrepentant, rather im- H pertinent, and won't go to a training ship. The H little missionary with the amiable terrier-face and H high color is worried. The clerk, tho gaoler and H the usher look severe. Victor Erasmus remains H simply defiant. H The magistrate glares at him through gold- H rimmed pince nez. "You are a wicked and fool- H ish 'boy," ho says; "but this time I will take H your father's recognizances for your good be- H havior for six months." "Pip pip!" ejaculates H Victor as he cocks his cap on the side of his H head. Cheer oh, Vic!" comes a breezy answer H from the back of the court. And out he goes. H Bacchus is in great force. Tho fellow is re- H sponsible for a long string of victims whose of- H fences vary in degree but not in kind. These are H elderly, decentrlooking men, and young, offensive- H looking men; there are somewhat dilapidated Dj ladies wearing tweed caps, and somewhat fash- H ionable ladies wearing feathered hats; there is H a noisy sort of person, and a depressed, watery H sort of person. There are all sorts of persons H dozens of them. H And there are interruptions. Somebody has a wife at the back of the court. She is immense; sho wears an apron and a cap, and carries a liah basket. Out of the crowd, ' behind the barrier," comes the voice of Billingsgate: "Let mo speak for usband, if you please, sir. E 'ad a a glass of ale wiv 'is brother-in-law at the corner-'uss; then when 'e come outside 'e met a bloke what owed him fouripence, and 'e says to 'Im, 'e says, 'Bert, what yer done wiv that money you owes me ?' " "Silence!" thunders tho usher; "if you want to come and give evidence, step up here." There are numerous incidents of that sort. AnJ there is a plaintive lady in a poke bonnet wno objects to her neighbor's parrot Also there is a beastly affair about a vegetable barrow. "Was I obstructing the road then?" shouts the dirty fellow in the neckerchief. "Yus you was' replies the witness bluntly; "you got yer barrer in the light, and none of U3 couldn't get past." "You're a liar!" remarks the accused. "I'll chuck me boot at yer 'ead if yer says that again" and so it goes on. The Cockney's ci oss-examination has all the essentials of a free fight. It is a fine official comedy on the whole. There are people, of course, in the long stream that passes by who look miserable, and plead and cry; but most of the culprits are either business like or disposed to have a joke. There is even a frock-coated thief, who delicately picks hid nails while the magistrate sends him to havd labor for six months. II Ihe Tragedy of London. Within a great white building, a spacious marble hall full of people. Massive pillars and domes of glass, and two broad staircases leading up to it; glass doors and white paint and oak panelling everywhere like a king's palace. Noth ing in particular to show what kind of a place it is nothing indeed so gloomy as its name. London's hum within and without. Police of ficers guarding doors, lawyers in wig-and-gown bustling through the crowd, men of official shape elbowing lesser men out of and into corners. Groups of people standing about the hall talking in low voices. Black the pervading tone. Sus pense the prevailing note. Seen through a glass darkly thick glass double doors guarded by a policeman the sitting court looks like some scene in a drama. A beam of pale winter sunshine, descending through the dome of the roof, sets the dust dancing, and lights up the square symmetrical room with its wainscotted, white-painted walls. It touches tho faceB of tho cleiks sitting at their table, and pleasantly kindles those of the jumbled officials in tho well of the court. Standing out by itself in .the middle, a great roomy dock, beneath a gallery, from which peer down curious faces, chiefly of women, enthralled by the story of "reat life" unfolded before them. Opposite sit the jury twelve stolid Englishmen. Words come dimly through the plated door y as the lips of tho speakers move. Keen faces line the legal benches. The judge, In scarlet robes, sits beneath the sword of justice. On tt either side of him a florid city alderman. The clerk of arraigns lolls back in his green leather chair a chubby man in wig-and-gown. 'Tis he ' who, when the jury return into court after con sidering their verdict, puts the eternal question: "Do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty." The, other little clerks run to and fro like busy j wasps, some of them fat and pompous, others small, spruce youths in tight, smart suits, wearing flowers in their (buttonholes. The sharp young lawyers who haven't briefs, but like to think they have drop in and out, and as the case draws to its close, group themselves around the ji dock. There is many a joke, wink and nod among them indeed, everybody is on the best possible terms with everybody elBe, from the police ser geant at the door to the usher beside the w1' ness box. Tho witmss box! In it stands woman white and small and thin, in shiny bln. , clutching a little handerchief. Such red stream ing eyes, such a beaten vook Sitting beside the dock, 'another poor thing holding the witness' baby. Her frayed cape and hat trimmed with woebegone flowers, form a contrast to the quietly sumptuous robes and the quietly sumptuous room. She, too, is weeping, while the baby laughs and crows. And in the great square dock? A starved-look-ing bit of a man, collarless and unshaven.-huddled up on a chair, his chalky face strained forward to catch every word that passes. Who is he? What is he charged with? Somebody whispers murder. That ragged wretch, now moistening his lips, now taking a sip at the water beside him, now leaning forward to whisper in the ear of the seedy little solicitor beneath; that ipallid- slip, with hisx watery eyes and weak face and weaker body, just like a thousand other wastrels of London streets could he be a murderer? The glass grows darker, the picture fades. There are four courts, and in each one a scene like that. Chips and odds and ends and rags and wrack of human life just everywhere. Da spair, hope, hate, pain under that glass roof, and no word of pity. Sly humor in the lawyers' faces, a tired philosopher upon tho judgment seat. The winter sunlight shines on them all. Ill The Archives of London Muffled footfalls in the world of books. Silent people tripping lightly to and fro across a dead ened floor. Silent men and women poring, poring over heavily-bound volumes in the subdued au- GOLD LAKE, IN THE HEART OF WILD ANis PICTU