A rheumatic friend of ours
dropped a guinea in the Strand, and, being unable to stoop, placed his
foot upon the coin, and waited and watched for the right man to ask to
pick it up for him. He was astonished at the difficulty of the choice.
One passer was too elegant, another too abstracted, one looked
dishonest, and another haughty. At last he saw approaching a serious,
kindly-looking, middle-aged loiterer, with a rusty black suit and white
cravat,--apparently a poor curate taking his "constitutional." Our
friend explained his dilemma, and was assured, in the most courteous
terms, that the stranger would accommodate him with pleasure. Very
deliberately the latter picked up the guinea, wiped it carefully on his
coat-sleeve, and transferred it to his vest-pocket,--walking off with a
cheerful nod. Indignant at the trick, the invalid called out "Stop,
thief!" The rascal was chased and caught, and, when taken to the police
office, proved to be Bristol Bill,--one of the most notorious and
evasive burglars in London. Many like instances of false pretences are
traditional in Broadway,--where there are sometimes visible scenic
personages, like a quack doctor whose costume and bearing were borrowed
from Don Pasquale, and Dr.
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