| <head>THE EXAMINER. 141</head>-----<!-- The text on this page is divided into two columns and is fully justified. --><p>who united the trade of begging with that of thieving. They usually<lb/>loitered about the door of a baker's shop, and, when they had an opportunity,<lb/>one of them slipped in, and slipped away two or three loaves,<lb/>while the other stood outside and guarded his retreat. They had also a<lb/>little trick by which they added to their means of living. They stood<lb/>opposite to a baker's window; and, as decent people passed, they rubbed<lb/>their hands, stared at the loaves, and cried—"Oh, bread, bread! starving<lb/>starving!"—and by such actions they got a great many pence, but not one<lb/>farthing did they lay out with the baker. (<hi rend="underline">Laughter</hi>.) He had ascertained<lb/>that, although the prisoners were not sailors, they spent their money<lb/>as jovially as if they were. The owners of some of the shops at which the<lb/>fellows played the farce of starvation did not object at first to the exhibition,<lb/>in the hope that some of the pence would be spent in the purchase of<lb/>the staff of life: but it happened that not one of the famishing trio went to<lb/>work with a hungry belly—for, upon one occasion, when they all stood at<lb/>a baker's door, with their eyes and mouths wide open, a loaf was broken,<lb/>and in vain handed to them. They were so well filled that they pocketed<lb/>it, to carry it home, they said, to a comrade, who was starving worse than<lb/>themselves.</p><p>An officer said that some of the bakers' beggars, when they received<lb/>bread, contrived, by sleight-of-hand, to dispose of it in such a manner as<lb/>to convince the bystanders there was no trick, There was one fellow<lb/>who could, to all appearance, swallow a half-quartern loaf; but it was a<lb/>pantomime swallow: and people who thought he would destroy himself if<lb/>they gave him more bread, then threw money to him to wet it.</p><p>A person stepped forward, and said the prisoners had been guilty of<lb/>another trick, some time ago. They had been supplied, by order of the late<lb/>Lord Mayor, with a pair of shoes each, and a shilling, and they promised<lb/>to walk off and get a ship. They were, however, seen soon afterwards<lb/>barefooted, going into a ginshop; and it was ascertained that they had<lb/>sold their shoes in Field-lane, and were getting <hi rend="underline">lushy</hi> with the produce.</p><p>Mr. Hobler said it was a common practice with sturdy beggars to sell the<lb/>shoes they received in Field-lane, and retire to the gin-shop.</p><p>The three prisoners were without shoes, and the officers, upon taking<lb/>hold of them by the feet, said that they were such feet as required no shoes,<lb/>as the skin was as thick as any leather.—The prisoners were sent to Bridewell<lb/>for three months.</p><p>WORSHIP-STREET<lb/>On Wednesday, a simple-looking person, named <hi rend="underline">Seldridge</hi>, a Member<lb/>of the Primitive Methodists' Chapel, in Cooper's-gardens, applied to the<lb/>Sitting Magistrate for a license to preach.</p><p>Mr. Heritage, the chief clerk, requested the applicant to read aloud the<lb/>Oaths of Supremacy and Allegiance. The applicant did as he was<lb/>desired, but in doing so he committed so many errors—pronouncing the words<lb/>impious, <hi rend="underline">impyous</hi>—deposed, <hi rend="underline">disposed</hi>—whatsoever, <hi rend="underline">whatsomever</hi>—potentate,<lb/><hi rend="underline">protentatoe</hi>, &c., that the clerk refused to swear him until the<lb/>Magistrate returned, assigning as a reason, that he could not conscientiously<lb/>do so to a man so grossly ignorant, and who, in his opinion, was totally<lb/>unfit for the office he aspired to. When the Magistrate resumed his sear, the<lb/>applicant, by the request of the clerk, again attempted to read the requisite<lb/>oaths and declarations, but in doing which he again committed the same<lb/>errors.</p><p>Mr. Benett: Have you read the Bible?— Applicant: I hope so. I<lb/>am only an occasional preacher, but I feel proud in administering consolation<lb/>when I have an opportunity. There are 40,000 of us congregating<lb/>in and near the metropolis!—Mr. Benett: What are you?—Applicant:<lb/>A locksmith.—The objection of the clerk was over-ruled by the Magistrate,<lb/>and the license was granted.</p><p>MARY-LE-BONE.<lb/>Interesting to the Lovers of Clean Crossings.—Two old men,<lb/>members of that useful profession, who wear their brooms daily at the<lb/>different crossings, to provide a clean footing for the admirers of dry soles,<lb/>waited upon Mr. Rawlinson, as a deputation from the Mary-le-bone<lb/>district body of the crossing sweepers, to complain that they have recently,<lb/>from time to time, met with sundry hindrances and obstructions from the<lb/>"metropolitan blues," in their labours. The spokesman, who shuddered<lb/>at the idea of the fashionables of Harley-street, staining their soles in<lb/>their passage into Cavendish-square, directed all the powers of his mind<lb/>and broom to counteract the effects of the present muddy weather; but<lb/>one of the "blues," belonging to the D troop, told him he must sweep no<lb/>more, and desired him, if he demurred to the order, to go and complain to<lb/>Mr. Rawlinson. Others were served equally; and to Mr. Rawlinson<lb/>accordingly they preferred their grievances.</p><p>Mr. Rawlinson said he could see no objection to allow these persons to<lb/>ply their brooms in this way; few people, he was sure, felt any objection to<lb/>have a clean crossing; but he hoped the <hi rend="underline">gentlemen</hi> of the deputation did<lb/>not annoy the passengers by begging. The <hi rend="underline">broomist</hi> assured him "he<lb/>never did no more than taking off his hat, just to bow the ladies and<lb/><hi rend="underline">gemmen</hi> across."</p><p>Mr. Rawlinson directed them to return to their <hi rend="underline">beats</hi>, and, if they were<lb/>again interrupted, to tell the "blue" to come with them to the office, and<lb/>explain his reasons for so doing.</p> | |
