That primitive life and manners simple, if not innocent, continue even now amongst us was brought startlingly to light in North London. A man, presumably young, stood in the dock, charged with stealing nine shillings and sixpence. A strange-looking fellow he was, with his upright hair uncut and uncombed for many a day. Unwashed in body, and tattered in clothing, he looked the image of fantastic fear. The prosecutor, not quite so fearsome-looking, was also a strange specimen of humanity, for he was a midget; his head was scarcely higher than the desk of the witness-box, and had it not been for his face and clothing, he might have passed for a child. His evidence did not amount to much. He knew that he lay down in his tent at twelve o’clock on Saturday night, with the money in his pocket, and when his sister woke him up at four, his money was gone. Following him came the sister, still less in stature, and still more strange in appearance. In her arms she held something wrapped in an old shawl. No sound proceeded from this shawl, but from the way in which she held it and the maternal manner in which she swayed herself as she gave evidence, it was plain there was something in it alive. She might have been nine years of age; she said she was nineteen. She saw the prisoner at two o’clock on Sunday morning crawl into her brother’s tent, feel in his pockets, take the money and go away. ‘Where were you?’ asked the magistrate. ‘Sitting outside, sir.’ ‘What were you doing?’ ‘Keeping company with my young man, sir.’ ‘Why did you not stop him?’ ‘Please, sir, my young man had gone to sleep, and I did not want to disturb him.’ This being all the evidence, and no money being found on the prisoner, he was discharged. Outside the court I found the little people crying bitterly, for every penny they possessed had gone. They were wood-choppers: buying old boards, splitting them up, and hawking the firewood at a penny a basket, for which purpose they hired a hand-barrow at a shilling per week. A financial catastrophe had overtaken them; they had no money for stock, food, or barrow, so they were in despair. ‘Let me see what you have got in that shawl,’ I said, and opened it. A shock followed, for the tiniest bit of mortality I ever saw was revealed--not only small, but so strange in colour and appearance, that had I been told it was a little monkey I could not have disputed it. I gave them a few shillings for food, etc., and, asking where their tent was, told them to be ‘at home’ in the afternoon, for I was coming to see them. I went, and stumbled into Arcadia.