of the
one, and the temptation of the other. Gin-drinking is a great vice in
England, but wretchedness and dirt are a greater; and until you improve
the homes of the poor, or persuade a half-famished wretch not to seek
relief in the temporary oblivion of his own misery, with the pittance
which, divided among his family, would furnish a morsel of bread for
each, gin-shops will increase in number and splendour. If Temperance
Societies would suggest an antidote against hunger, filth, and foul air,
or could establish dispensaries for the gratuitous distribution of
bottles of Lethe-water, gin-palaces would be numbered among the things
that were.
CHAPTER XXIII--THE PAWNBROKER'S SHOP
Of the numerous receptacles for misery and distress with which the
streets of London unhappily abound, there are, perhaps, none which
present such striking scenes as the pawnbrokers' shops. The very nature
and description of these places occasions their being but little known,
except to the unfortunate beings whose profligacy or misfortune drives
them to seek the temporary relief they offer. The subject may appear, at
first sight, to be anything but an inviting one, but we venture on it
nevertheless, in the hope that, as far as the limits of our present paper
are concerned, it will present nothing to disgust even the most
fastidious reader.
There are some pawnbrokers' shops of a very superior description. There
are grades in pawning as in everything else, and distinctions must be
observed even in poverty. The aristocratic Spanish cloak and the
plebeian calico shirt, the silver fork and the flat iron, the muslin
cravat and the Belcher neckerchief, would but ill assort together; so,
the better sort of pawnbroker calls himself a silver-smith, and decorates
his shop with handsome trinkets and expensive jewellery, while the more
humble money-lender boldly advertises his calling, and invites
observation. It is with pawnbrokers' shops of the latter class, that we
have to do. We have selected one for our purpose, and will endeavour to
describe it.
The pawnbroker's shop is situated near Drury-Lane, at the corner of a
court, which affords a side entrance for the accommodation of such
customers as may be desirous of avoiding the observation of the
passers-by, or the chance of recognition in the public street. It is a
low, dirty-looking, dusty shop, the door of which stands always
doubtfully, a little way open: half inviting, half repe
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