W. H. Peckitt

MR. W. H. PECKITT.
RARE STAMPS ONLY AT 441, STRAND.
A SMALL STOCK THAT RUNS INTO HIGH FIGURES.
[By our Special Commissioner.]

THOUGH Mr. W. H. Peckitt has only been actively engaged in Stamp Dealing for six years, his philatelic career has been by no means uneventful. Commencing to deal "on his own hook," to put it vulgarly, in Deptford, Mr. Peckitt has managed to enter into and dissolve a partnership, to take premises in the Strand, to lay in a choice stock of rarieties, and - last, but not least - to be the victim of a first-class stamp robbery. And all in six years! Many men have done less in sixty. But then it is the many who fail, and the few who succeed. Mr. Peckitt, you will see, when you have thought this out carefully, is one of the few. Certainly few men can boast such a desirable stock as Mr. Peckitt's, and it is just as well that this should be so. If we all possessed such collections, the stamps would be no longer rare. Therefore, we repeat, it is just as well that there should be a many who fail and a few who succeed - however illogical the "many" may deem our logic.

But to get back to Mr. Peckitt. That gentleman, like most others in the stamp-dealing line, has his speciality.

"RARE STAMPS ONLY"
is Mr. Peckitt's business motto, though he doesn't blazon it forth to the world. Indeed, he does little of the blazoning-forth business at any time, his trade being chiefly done with regular customers, who do not need to scan advertisements or con directories in order to track the rare-stamp merchant to his lair.

Let us to that "lair," gentle reader, taking with us our private set of racks and thumb-screws - without which no itinerant inquisitor of the Press can be considered quite complete. Let us beard this philatelic lion in his den. Mr. Peckitt does not wear a beard, but that's a detail. Let us at any rate, see what he has to show us and to tell us in the philatelic way.

No one would suspect 441, Strand, of being the premises of a large stamp dealer unless he went right up close enough to see a diminutive glass show-case, containing a small selection of stamps and the brief announcement "W. H. Peckitt, Dealer in Rare Stamps, First Floor." The shop itself is a jeweller's, boasting a glorious windowful of gold and silver. But upstairs in Mr. Peckitt's offices there are gems brighter in the eyes of the philatelist than any that his neighbour the jeweller can supply. When one has made the ascent of
MR. PECKITT'S LITTLE WINDING STAIR,
one is faced by a door which recently bore the name "Calff, Peckitt & Co.," but from which the Calff has now been amputated. Our special Commissioner, who made the ascent in perfect safety, was received with great cordiality by Mr. Peckitt.

"So I am to, be your seventh victim?" said he, with surprising complacency; "I am afraid I shan't make a good subject. I haven't any reminiscences - that is, philatelic reminiscences - worth recounting. Of course, I collected stamps when I was a boy at school, but in a sadly promiscuous fashion."

"And have you kept in touch with philately ever since?"

"Well no, scarcely that ; I did not seriously take up the subject again until shortly before I commenced to deal at Deptford six years ago. Philately has always interested me, but I cannot claim to have been such a faithful devotee as some of my fellow-dealers."

How His BUSINESS IS DONE.

"Your trade is all in rare stamps, I take it, Mr. Peckitt?"

"Yes. It is the form of business I prefer, and besides it is so convenient. One's stock


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