Victorian Urban Legend: Pickpocket and Boa Constrictor April 5, 2017
Author: Beach Combing | in : Modern , trackback
This is a lovely tale. An elderly chap meets a young man in a tram car who confesses that he was once a pickpocket. He gives the story of his conversion.
I was lounging about, when in came a gentleman with a long basket. It was the most curious basket I had ever seen, with two handles and a large padlock. He put it down in a corner as he looked for his pocket book, and he spoke to a gentleman who was standing near, and seemed to know him. ‘I have got it,’ he said, ‘and it has cost me enough, I can tell you. But I wanted it for the collection; couldn’t do without it. So proud of it that I brought it along myself,’ and he pushed towards the office to obtain his ticket. The other man looked at the basket a minute and then walked away, and that was my time. I crept to the basket, and took it up and walked away in another direction. Nobody noticed me. I didn’t run, of course. I just went out of the station, and down under the trees, and what I meant to do was to take the valuables out of it and leave it there. I took the key that hung beside the padlock, and unlocked it, and lifted up the cover a little. Just then there was a noise, and I turned my head, but could see nothing to be afraid of. I opened the cover wider and peeped in, but there was nothing to be seen, the basket was empty. ‘Why, gracious me,’ said I; not in those words – l was a wicked sinner then – ‘what does this mean’. ‘I was done for – for nothing – for the police were after me, at least a big arm went round my waist suddenly, and when I jerked it only held closer. Well, sir, I thought I should give up that minute, for then and there I knew that what was twisting about was something worse than a policeman’s arm. It was snake, a great boa constrictor, on its way to a menagerie. I had stolen a basket with a snake in it, and it slipped out when I opened the cover, and now it had me. Tight, sir, was the word for it. It was twisted round me until I had but little breath left, but with what I did have I set up a yell. Would you believe it, Sir —the person that heard it was that menagerie man; he was looking for his snake. ‘Bless my heart,’ says he, when he saw me, ‘well, the biter’s bit, if it ever happened. You stole the basket, my friend, and out of it came the thief-catcher. Now, keep still. Don’t move for your life. There is just one chance for you.’ Says I, ‘Hurry, please, for I am choking’; He did hurry. He took a bottle out of his pocket, and out of another he took a kind of folding cup and opened it. Then he poured something from the bottle into the cup. ‘Milk,’ says he, ‘it may tempt him away, if not, say your prayers, friend;’ and I tell you that was an anxious moment for me. At first I thought he had done for me, for the snake only seemed to twist tighter; but in a minute the head poked out towards the milk, and I felt him drop off, and saw him coiled up round the milk cup. I did not want to see him fed; I went. But it was a lesson for me. It put an end to my course of wickedness, and thank God, I was allowed to mingle in respectable society. This is my station, sir; good afternoon. There isn’t a more respectable or more honest young man than I am living, now. Good-bye.’
Of course, the story ends with the listener realizing that his handkerchief and purse have disappeared… Classy.
Any other pickpocket urban legends: drbeachcombing AT yahoo DOT com.
This appeared in the Hartlepool Northern Daily Mail (31 Mar 1886), 4: allegedly taken from a book of anecdotes (1857)
