Mr. Pollock's "Penny Plain and Twopence Coloured"
"If you love art, folly, or the bright eyes of children, speed to Pollock's," wrote Stevenson of a certain humble little shop situate at 73 Hoxton Street, where, during some of his visits to England, he passed many happy hours, says -a writer in a home paper.
Having something of a fondness for all three things, I retook myself to Hoxton the other day in order to search out Pollock's. Its small window space. was occupied almost entirely by a model stage, complete with a magnificent, glittering transformation scene.
Mr. Pollock emerged after a few minutes from his tiny workshop, where his printing-press is installed. A gentle, grey-haired old man, with' kindly, shortsighted blue eyes, he smiled a little shyly at-my request that he tell me about himself and his shop. At mention of Stevenson, however, his face lighted up. "I recollect quite well—it might 'a been only yesterday," he said; "he always would stand this side of the counter, so as he could get at the boxes easier," and in a moment he was lifting down dust-covered parcels and displaying before me their hidden treasure.
A picture of one, a Mr. ©. Pitt, in the role of Charley Wag, held my attention. He wore a superb waistcoat of red brocade, the most vivid of blue coats, yellow breeches and neckerchief, Wellington boots, and @ shiny top-hat. Through his wide leather belt was stuck a pistol, in his right hand was brandished another, in his left a murderous looking cutlass. I could find it in' my heart to forgive the child who succumbed to such glory and invested in the "twopence coloured" instead of the "penny plain."
"Most of these figures are of actors who played at the Old Britannia Theatre," he remarked presently, pointing to the Charley Wag who had captured my heart at first! sight. I had seen the theatre of which he spoke on my way to hia shop. It is a cinema now, and I mentioned the fact to him a little wistfully. "Oh! but the public'!] grow tried of pictures," answered come Back to the real stuff—the good my optimistic magician. They'll old melodrama."
Mr. Pollock does all the printing and colouring entirely by himself, and makes the little wooden stages for his paper puppets. "I published a new play about 30 years ago: 'Sleeping Beauty' it was—but I don't think I'll have any more new ones now," he said.
"The Blind Boy," and '"Aladdin," and "The Corsican Brothers" are rare favourites. The actors who were the. originals of these paper characters are all dead now, and almost forgotten; the Britannia Theatre, as it used to be, is forgotten too; only Mr. Pollock, gentle and old, remains to carry on in his pleasant, unhurried fashion the traditions and fast fading splendour of -Mr. Skelt,' who
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.