The Shadow Side--The Slums--The City by Night--Vice and Misery--"Chinese Johnson's" Opium Den--The "Bunco" Man--An English Guard--"The Grand Old Man"--Caution to Tourists--Great Cities by Night--The Seven Dials--Derby Day--The Tally-Ho--Old Robin Hood Inn--Epsom Hill--The Races--Exciting Scenes--Side Shows--The Close of the Day.
As nature derives much of its charm from the intermingling of light and shade, so in life there are many scenes of sharp contrast, and we often have a deeper appreciation of its beauties after beholding the reverse side of the picture. Some one has said: "In actions of life, who seeth not the filthiness of evil, wanteth a great foil to perceive the beauty of virtue."
What better opportunity of studying this phase of life can there be, than in the faces of those whose existence is passed amid associations of suffering, want and crime; who not only witness, but experience all these in their different shades and degrees.
Take with me a walk through the worst portions of the greatest metropolis in the world, and observe a few of the pictures in the localities where humanity is born and nourished in misery, filth and sin. Guarded by three of England's best paid detectives, I follow closely in their footsteps, not daring to speak lest I rouse in his lair the slumbering lion of passion and revenge. From street to street we pass, viewing the wretched tenements, and more wretched inmates huddling together over a faint spark of fire, or vainly trying to impart to their little ones some of the natural warmth which still exists in their bodies, in spite of hunger, cold and fatigue. The crumbs from the tables of the rich would be a lavish feast to these poor creatures. Clean water is as great a stranger to their stomachs as to their bodies; loathsome rags cover their emaciated forms, and the destroyer drink has left his signet upon their countenances. A little farther on is the vile dance house into which the inhabitants of this neighborhood crawl for the lowest stage of their degradation. A motley throng is assembled here, and the sound of a violin mingles with shrill laughter and drunken oaths.
I am guarded so carefully that many times I am hurried away from a scene more quickly than I wish, the officers fearing that our presence may create a disturbance among these reckless characters. We enter a low saloon in a cellar dimly lighted by an old oil lamp: the atmosphere is gruesome, and one of the detectives warns me that the men who frequent this haunt are desperate fellows who would not hesitate to stab me for the sake of my clothing. Old and grizzled habitués line reeking walls, with depravity written upon every countenance, and I fully realize that my life would not be worth a moment's purchase here should my attendants forsake me.