The
day was dull, the gutters were full of cabbage stalks and the air
resounded with the cry of costermongers.
On this a Japanese gentleman, who had watched the scene, lifted up
his voice and made the bystanders a set oration. He was very yellow,
had long black hair, gold spectacles and a top hat; he was a typical
Japanese, but he spoke English perfectly. He said the scene they had
all just witnessed was a very sad one and that it ought not to be
passed over entirely without comment. He explained that it was very
nice of the good old man to be so sorry about his dog and to be so
careful of its remains and that he and all the bystanders must
sympathise with him in his grief, and as the expression of their
sympathy, both with the man and with the poor dog, he had thought
fit, with all respect, to make them his present speech.
I have not the man's words but Gogin said they were like a Japanese
drawing, that is to say, wonderfully charming, and showing great
knowledge but not done in the least after the manner in which a
European would do them. The bystanders stood open-mouthed and could
make nothing of it, but they liked it, and the Japanese gentleman
liked addressing them. When he left off and went away they followed
him with their eyes, speechless.
St. Pancras' Bells
Gogin lives at 164 Euston Road, just opposite St. Pancras Church, and
the bells play doleful hymn tunes opposite his window which worries
him.
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