SWEEPING A CROSSING. “Spare a copper! Spare a copper!” Every Londoner knows the hackneyed phrase. Walking one day from Oxford Circus to Charing Cross, I heard it fourteen times. “Help a poor chap!” “Pity an old sweep!” These were the variations which occasionally broke the monotony of the appeal. Into each outstretched hand I dropped…

Chapter 13 The little waitress at Mitchell’s dining-rooms was so much absorbed in thought during the day following the contest, that humorous customers, noting this, told her she was in love. To Miss Mitchell’s requests for an opinion as to the number of g’s in Reggie, she replied absently, and showed so little interest in…

CHAPTER XXV ESCAPADES — HUNGER STRIKES — SMUGGLED IN AN ACTRESS’S HAMPER — I VISIT THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY Gradually all the conspirators who had been tried with me were released. We compared notes; described our matrons, our doctors, our special wardresses, but I kept to myself the story of the taxi breakdown. I thought…

A DAY WITH THE FLOWER-GIRLS. “VIOLETS, sweet violets! A penny a bunch!” From ten o’clock in the morning until the first hour of midnight this cry of the flower-sellers may be heard in the London streets. It usually issues from female throats, although occasionally the clamour is reinforced by a masculine voice, which, however, could…