{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_50973/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_50973","id":"gutenberg_50973","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50973","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Sociology","Pastoral theology"],"text":"Note: Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See\n      https://archive.org/details/aboutmyfathersbu1876arch\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\n\n      Small capitals have been replaced by full capitals.\n\n\n\n\n\n\"ABOUT MY FATHER'S BUSINESS.\"\n\n\n(The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are Reserved.)\n\n\n\"ABOUT MY FATHER'S BUSINESS\"\n\nWork Amidst the Sick, the Sad, and the Sorrowing\n\nby\n\nTHOMAS ARCHER\n\nAuthor of\n\"Strange Work,\" \"A Fool's Paradise,\" \"The Terrible Sights of London,\"\n\"The Pauper, The Thief, and the Convict,\" etc., etc.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHenry S. King & Co.\n1876\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                          PAGE\n\n THE RARITY OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY                             1\n\n WITH THE CHILDREN OF THE STRANGER                           9\n\n WITH THE CHILDREN'S CHILDREN                               18\n\n WITH THE STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND                        34\n\n WITH THOSE WHO ARE LEFT DESOLATE                           44\n\n WITH THEM THAT GO DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS                 53\n\n WITH THEM WHO WERE READY TO PERISH                         62\n\n CASTING BREAD UPON THE WATERS                              74\n\n WITH THE FEEBLE AND FAINT-HEARTED                          84\n\n WITH THE LITTLE ONES                                      100\n\n IN THE KINGDOM                                            112\n\n WITH LOST LAMBS                                           125\n\n WITH THE SICK                                             135\n\n BLESSING THE LITTLE CHILDREN                              144\n\n WITH THEM THAT FAINT BY THE WAY                           157\n\n IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH                      165\n\n WITH THE HALT AND THE LAME                                178\n\n WITH THEM WHO HAVE NOT WHERE TO LAY THEIR HEADS           190\n\n TAKING IN STRANGERS                                       200\n\n FEEDING THE MULTITUDE                                     209\n\n GIVING REST TO THE WEARY                                  220\n\n WITH THE POOR AND NEEDY                                   227\n\n GIVING THE FEEBLE STRENGTH                                248\n\n HEALING THE SICK                                          261\n\n WITH THE PRISONER                                         273\n\n\n\n\n\"ABOUT MY FATHER'S BUSINESS.\"\n\n\n\n\n_THE RARITY OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY._\n\n\nWould it not be useful to ask ourselves the question whether we are\nforgetting the true meaning of \"charity\" in the constant endeavour to\ntake advantage of organized benevolent institutions, about the actual\nworking of which we concern ourselves very little? As the years go on,\nand what we call civilisation advances, are we or are we not losing\nsight of \"our neighbour\" in a long vista of vicarious benefactions,\nbestowed through the medium of a subscription list, or casual\ncontributions at an \"anniversary festival?\"\n\nAt the speeches that are made on such occasions, when the banquet is\nover, and the reading of the amounts subscribed is accompanied by the\ncracking of nuts and a crescendo or decrescendo of applause, in\nproportion to the liberality of the donors, we are so frequently\nreminded of \"the good Samaritan,\" that we begin to feel that we may\nclaim some kind of relationship to him; and may shake our heads with\nsolemn sorrow at the inexcusable conduct of the priest and the Levite.\nIt would be worth while, however, to ask ourselves whether we quite come\nup to the mark of him who, finding the man wounded and helpless by the\nwayside, dismounted that he might convey the sufferer to the nearest\ninn; poured out oil for his wounds and wine for his cheer; left him with\nmoney in hand for the supply of his immediate needs; and did not\nscruple--with a robust and secure honesty--even to get into debt on his\nbehalf: since the crown of good-will would be the coming again to learn\nof the patient's welfare. The debt was a pledge of the intention.\n\nThat was the Lord Christ's way of looking at charitable responsibility,\nand at benevolent effort; and even granting that He illustrated the\nanswer to the question, \"Who is my neighbour?\" by an extreme case of\nsudden distress, the longer we look at the peculiar needs of the man who\nwas on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho, the more perhaps we shall be\nconvinced that there are greater, far greater evils, and more terrible\naccidents, than to fall among thieves, who temporarily rob, strip, and\ndisable their victim.\n\nThe present fashion of dealing with such an unfortunate traveller would\nvery much depend on which particular class of philanthropists the modern\nSamaritan who found him by the road-side happened to belong to.\n\nOf course, it would be a scandal to our Christianity to follow either\npriest or Levite, although our cowardly sympathies might lie between the\ntwo; so, in order to make all safe, we hit on a compromise, and,\naccording to our circumstances, try to find a medium line of conduct\nbetween Samaritan and Levite, or Samaritan and priest. We are ashamed to\npass on without doing something, and so we call at the inn on our way,\nand leave the twopence there, in case anybody else should think fit to\nbring on the man who is lying, stunned and bleeding, in the roadway. Or\nelse, having contrived to rouse the poor fellow to a little effort, we\nborrow an ass and take him back with us, to find some organised\ninstitution for the relief of those who fall among thieves, where the\nwine and oil are contracted for out of the funds. And there we leave\nhim, without remembering anything whatever about the twopenny\ncontribution which would represent our own share in the benefaction.\n\nIt is an awful thought, and one which it may be hoped will soon become\nintolerable, that, with the mechanical perfection of means for relieving\nthe necessities of those who are afflicted, there seems to grow upon us\na deadly indifference to the very deepest need of all--that personal,\nhuman sympathy, without which all our boast of benevolence is but as the\nsounding of brass and the tinkling of a cymbal. Can it be possible that\nwe are approaching a condition when, refusing to have the poor and the\nafflicted, the widow and the orphan always with us, we shut them away\nout of our sight, leaving the whole duty of visiting them, of clothing\nthem, of giving them meat and drink, to be done by an official\ncommittee; a charitable board, distributing doles, exactly calculated,\non a carefully devised scale, and divided to the ounce or the inch, in\nsupposed proportion to the individual need of each recipient? Will there\never come a time when we shall persuade ourselves that we fulfil the law\nof Christ by paying so much in the pound for a charity rate, and leaving\nall the actual \"relief\" to be effected by an official department, or a\nseries of official committees?\n\nThe present aspect of charitable administration would be truly appalling\nif this were likely to be the result, for there are far too many\nevidences of that deadly indifference which will get rid of all real\npersonal responsibility by paying a subscription, and will pay\nhandsomely, too, at the same time smiling grimly, and half satirically,\nat the recollection that there are a number of people who always have on\nhand \"cases,\" of whom they are anxious to rid themselves by placing them\nin any institution that will receive them without payment.\n\nLet it not be imagined that these latter words of mine are intended to\napply to those workers among the poor, who, with small means of their\nown, cannot do much more than speak words of advice and comfort, and\ngive their earnest help to better the condition of sordid homes and of\nneglected children. There are scores of true, tender-hearted women who,\nspending much time amongst the sick and the afflicted, feel their hearts\nsink within them as they see how much more might be done, if they had\nbut the wherewithal to appease the actual physical needs of those to\nwhom they try to come spiritually near.\n\nIf but the miracle so easy to others were first performed, and the five\nthousand fed, then indeed might follow that still greater miracle, the\nearnest listening of the once turbulent multitude to the words of the\nBread of Life.\n\nBut there are those who pursue what they regard as \"charitable work\" as\nan excitement--an amusement--just as children are sometimes set to play\nwith Scripture conversation cards, and puzzles out of the Old Testament,\nwith a kind of feeling that the employment comes nearly to a religious\nexercise. There is as much danger of these persons missing the true work\nof charity as there would be in the employment of paid officials--indeed,\nthe latter would have one advantage; they would be less likely to be\nimposed upon by those who to obtain some special advantage would cringe\nand flatter.\n\nThe first great difficulty in visiting and temporarily relieving the\nlower class of destitute poor, is to disabuse their minds of an\ninveterate notion that the benevolent visitor and distributor is paid by\nsome occult society, of which the recipients of bounty know nothing, and\nfor which they care very little. Unfortunately, the sharp determined\namateur visitor, who \"does a district\" as other people with leisure do a\nflower show or a morning concert----but, alas! these very words of mine\nshow how common is that lack of true charity of which I designed to\nspeak. Who am I that I should sum up the disposition and the heart of my\nbrother or my sister? Only I would say that this suspicion on the part\nof the ignorant poor, which is so often complained of--the notion that\ntheir interviewers are paid for the work of charity--can only yield to\nthe conviction that the work itself is undertaken with warm living human\nsympathy. Before the true relief shall come to any man, it must come by\nfaith. \"With the heart man believeth unto righteousness,\" and _in_\nrighteousness also.\n\nThe two tendencies that are driving us away from charity to a kind of\nselfish economy, are the habit of \"relieving our overcharged\nsusceptibilities by secreting a guinea,\" and thinking we have thereby\nfulfilled the claims of religion and humanity, and the practice of going\nabout seeking where we may find candidates for other people's guineas,\nand so becoming a kind of charitable detectives, with an eye to\nreputation and advancement in the force.\n\nWe are forgetting that heartfelt sympathy, that clasp of the hand and\nbeam of the eye which will make even a cup of cold water a benefaction,\nif we have no more to give, or if the need goes no further than a\nrefreshing draught, that shall be turned from water into wine by the\npower of loving fellowship. Or we may be saying, \"Be ye clothed, and be\nye fed,\" trusting to some other hand to do the necessary work, without\nhaving ourselves first wrought for the means of taking our part in it,\neither by a deep personal interest in the relieving institution or in\nthe destitute recipient.\n\n\"Yet one thing thou lackest,\"--even though out of thy great possessions\na large proportion is given to the poor; \"follow thou me.\" \"Go about\ndoing good,\" do not think to have fulfilled the law without love--that\nwhich you call charity; the mere _giving_--is but to offer a stone when\nbread is required of you, unless it be done with love in your\nheart--personal, human, and therefore Divine love. \"If ye have not been\nfaithful in that which is another man's, who shall give you that which\nis your own?\" Use the benefits of institutions--even though you use them\nonly for others--as you would use your own property. Recommend only\ncases that are known to you to be worthy and necessitous, and, should\nthe institution depend on voluntary support, let a contribution\naccompany your \"case,\" if you can any way afford it, as an act of\njustice as well as of mercy.\n\nDon't join in the traffic in votes, and never go begging for \"proxies,\"\nin order to have an exchangeable stock on hand, that you may secure a\ncandidate for any particular institution. This kind of gambling is a\ncancer that is eating the heart out of genuine, pure, charitable effort,\nand is making way for the cold impersonal system of distribution, which\nis now being advocated by those who would make the relief of human\nwretchedness and distress a mechanical organisation without the soul of\nlove. At the same time, let us not forget that no charitable effort\nwhich would be efficacious in affording relief to the widely-spread\ndistress by which we are surrounded, could be even so much as attempted\nwithout associations established for the express purpose of relieving\nparticular forms of suffering. This, indeed, is the glory of our\ncountry, that humanity is so strong among us as to lead us not only to\ncombine, but to emulate. The absolute concentration and centralization\nof charitable effort would be a calamity. The breaking up of the best of\nour institutions, which have grown from small beginnings in almsgiving\ninto wide and influential centres of benevolent effort, would be\ndestruction.\n\nIf anything that may be written hereafter concerning some representative\n(large and small, but still truly representative) efforts to do the work\nthat Christianity demands as its first evidence of reality, should lead\nto a deeper and wider personal interest in their behalf, it will be\nmatter for rejoicing. The larger the number of people who ask what is\nbeing done, the greater will be the desire to continue the good work, or\nto declare it. The attention that might in this way be directed to the\nmode of affording relief would exercise so keen an influence in the\nreformation of abuses, and the adoption of improvements, that all our\ncharities would soon become truly \"public.\" With the more earnest\nconviction of the duty of personal inquiry, and real sympathetic\ninterest in the individual well-being of our poorer brother or sister,\nwould come the satisfaction that we belonged to an association, or to a\nchain of associations, which will afford to him or to her the very\nrelief which otherwise we should despair of securing.\n\nI purpose in another chapter to ask you to read the story of an\ninstitution that was in its day wonderfully illustrative, and even now\nserves to take us back for two centuries of history. Only yesterday I\nwas speaking to some of its inmates. One of them had nearly completed\nher own century of life, most of them had seen far more than the\nthreescore years and ten which we call old age; but they come of a\nwonderful race, the men of fire and steel; the women of silent\nsuffering--the old Huguenots of France.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THE CHILDREN OF THE STRANGER._\n\n\nA hundred and eighty-seven years ago a French army invaded England and\neffected a landing at various places on the coast. Smaller divisions of\nthat army had previously obtained a footing in some of the chief towns\nof Great Britain; and for about fifty years afterwards other contingents\narrived at intervals to find the compatriots settled among the people,\nwho had easily yielded to their address and courage, and by that time\nwere apparently contented to regard them as being permanently\nestablished in the districts of which they had taken possession. The\nstrange part of the story is, that for a large part of this time England\nwas successfully engaged in war with the country of the invaders, and\nnot only with that country, but with a discarded prince of its own, who,\nhaving received assistance from France, strove to regain the throne\nwhich he had abdicated by raising civil war in Ireland. Then was to be\nseen a marvellous thing. A detachment of the French army of occupation\nin England went with King William to the Boyne, and when the mercenaries\nwho were at the back of James in his miserable enterprise came forth to\nfight, they beheld the swords of their countrymen flash in their faces,\nand heard a well-known terrible cry, as a band of veteran warriors cut\nthrough their ranks, fighting as they had been taught to fight in the\nCevennes and amidst the valleys and passes of Languedoc. For the army\nthat invaded England in 1686, and for four or five years afterwards, was\nthe army of the French Huguenots, against whom the dragoons of Louis\nXIV. and the emissaries of Pope and priests had been let loose after the\nrevocation of the Edict of Nantes.\n\nFour hundred thousand French Protestants had left their country during\nthe twenty years previous to the revocation of that pact, which had been\nrenewed after the siege of Rochelle, and though the attempt to escape\nfrom the country was made punishable by the confiscation of property and\nperpetual imprisonment in the galleys, six hundred thousand persons\ncontrived to get out of France, and found asylums in Flanders,\nSwitzerland, Holland, Germany, and England, after the persecutions were\nresumed.\n\nComparatively few of the men who came in the second emigration had\nfought for the religion that they professed. They had learned to endure\nall things, and with undaunted courage many of them had suffered the\nloss of their worldly goods, the burning of their houses, hunger,\npoverty, and the imprisonment of their wives and daughters in distant\nfortresses, because they would not forswear their faith. Hundreds of\ntheir companions were at the galleys, hundreds more had been tortured,\nmutilated, burned, broken on the wheel. Women as well as men endured\nalmost in silence the fierce brutalities of a debased soldiery, directed\nby priests and fanatics, who had, as it were, made themselves drunk with\nblood, and seemed to revel in cruelty. With a resolution that nothing\nseemed able to abate, pastors like Claude Brousson went from district to\ndistrict, living they knew not how, half famished, in perpetual danger,\nand with little expectation of ultimately escaping the stake or the\nrack. Nay, they refused to leave the country, while in the woods and\nwildernesses of the Gard great congregations of their brethren awaited\ntheir coming, that they might hold services in caves and \"in the\ndesert,\" as they called that wild country of the Cevennes and of Loz\u00e9re.\nThese men were non-resistants. They met with unflinching courage, but\nwithout arms. Those of them who remained in France stayed to see the\npersecutions redoubled in the attempt to exterminate the reformed faith.\nThey were the truest vindicators of the religion that they professed. Up\nto the time of the siege of Rochelle, and afterwards, Protestantism was\nrepresented by a defensive sword, but these men discarded the weapons of\ncarnal warfare. Only some years later, when the persecutors (rioting in\nthe very insanity of wrath because their declaration that Protestantism\nwas abolished was falsified by constant revivals of the old Huguenot\nworship) directed utter extermination of the Vaudois, did the grandeur\nof the non-resisting principle give way before the desperation of men\nwho came to the conclusion that, if they were to die, they might as well\ndie fighting.\n\nIt must be remembered that some of them knew well how to fight. Some of\ntheir leaders--men of peace as they were, and men of an iron\ndetermination, which was shown in the obstinacy with which they refused\nto take up the sword--had come of stern warriors and were\n_Frenchmen_--Norman Frenchmen--Protestant Norman Frenchmen. A rare\ncombination that;--cold hard steel and fire.\n\nBut it was not till some time afterwards that these men became the\nleaders of the peasantry, the chestnut-fed mountaineers who came down\nfrom their miserable huts and joined what had then become an organised\narmy of insurrection. Before this time arrived a strange aberration\nseemed to move the people. The old simple non-resisting pastors had been\ndone to death by torture and execution, and the people met, it is true,\nbut often met amid the ruin of their homes, or in desert places, and as\nsheep having no shepherd. Then a wild hysterical frenzy appeared among\nthem. Men, women, and even children claimed to be inspired, and at\nlength fanaticism leaped into retaliation. On a Sunday in July, 1702, a\nwild mystic preacher, named S\u00e9guier went down with a band of about fifty\narmed men to release the prisoners. They were confined in dungeons\nbeneath the house of one Chayla, a priest, who directed the\nprosecutions, and invented the tortures which he caused to be inflicted\nfor the conversion of heretics. The Protestants broke open his door,\nforced the prison, and ultimately set fire to the house, in attempting\nto escape from which Chayla was recognised and killed. This was the\nbeginning of a series of retaliations by the tormented people, the\nsuccess of which changed the whole attitude of the Protestants of the\ndistrict. They had formerly endured in silence; now they were desperate\nenough for insurrection. And the insurrection followed. S\u00e9guier was\ncaptured, maimed, and burnt alive; but others took his place. The war of\nthe \"Camisards\" had commenced. Then it was that the leaders of the\nProtestant army in the Cevennes arose;--Roland and Cavalier, and the men\nwho for a long time waged successful warfare against the royal forces,\ntill defeat came accompanied by a new _r\u00e9gime_.\n\nThe rumbling of the revolutionary earthquake was already shaking the\nthrone and the persecuting church. Voltaire, educated by the Jesuits,\nand hating religion, was helping to deliver the martyrs of the\nProtestant faith even before he began to \"philosophise.\"\n\nThe struggle of the Camisards can only be said to have ceased when the\npersecutions were nearly at an end, and France itself was tottering. But\nwhat of that great Huguenot contingent which had invaded Britain, and\nwas growing in number year by year as the _\u00e9migr\u00e9s_, leaving houses and\nland, shops, warehouses, and factories, fled across the frontier, or got\ndown to the shore, and came over the sea in fishing-boats and other\nsmall craft, in which they took passage under various disguises, or were\nstowed away in the holds, or packed along with bales of merchandise, to\nescape the vigilance of the emissaries who were set to watch for\nescaping Protestants? It is a little significant that of these\nnon-combatant Protestants eleven regiments of soldiers were formed in\nthe English army; but the truth is that of the vast number of _\u00e9migr\u00e9s_\nwho left France, some 30,000 were trained soldiers and sailors, and\ndoubtless a proportion of these came to England, though probably fewer\nthan those of their number who served in the Low Countries. At any rate,\nin 1687, two years after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, there\narrived in England 15,500 refugees, some of whom brought with them very\nconsiderable property, and most of them were men of education, or\nskilled in the knowledge of the arts, or of those manufactures and\nhandicrafts which are the true wealth of a nation. At Norwich and\nCanterbury they quickly formed communities which became prosperous, and\nhelped the prosperity of the districts, where they set up looms, and\ndyeworks, and other additions to the local industries. In London they\nformed two or three remarkable colonies, so that when Chamberlain wrote\nhis \"Survey of London,\" there were about twenty French Protestant\nchurches, the greater number of which stood in Shoreditch, Hoxton, and\nSpitalfields--in fact, above 13,000 emigrants had settled in or near the\nmetropolis. The one French Protestant church founded by Edward VI. was,\nof course, inadequate to receive them, and their immediate necessities\nwere so great that a collection was made for their relief, and a sum of\n60,000_l._ was by this means obtained in order to alleviate their\ndistress.\n\nAmong these _\u00e9migr\u00e9s_ were many noblemen and gentlemen of distinction,\nwho, with their wives, were reduced to extreme poverty by the\nconfiscation of their property. These had learned no trade, but with\ncharacteristic courage many of them set themselves to acquire the\nknowledge of some craft by which they might earn their bread, while some\nof their number learned of their wives to make pillow-lace, and so\ncontinued to support themselves in decent comfort.\n\nTo those who knew the \"old French folk,\" as they came to be called in\nafter years, when the later emigration had again increased the number of\nthe weavers' colony in Spitalfields, nothing was more remarkable than\nthe cheerfulness, one might almost say the gaiety, that distinguished\nthem. Reading the account given by French writers of the old Huguenots\nin France, one might be disposed to regard them as stern and sour\nsectaries, but that would be a very erroneous opinion. Perhaps the\nsudden freedom to which they came, the rest of soul, and the opportunity\nto endeavour to serve God with a quiet mind raised them to a tranquil\nhappiness which revived the national characteristic of light-heartedness;\nbut however it may have been, the real genuine old French weaver of\nSpitalfields and Bethnal Green was a very courteous, merry, simple,\nchild-like gentleman. The houses in which these people lived, some of\nwhich are still to be seen with their high-pitched roofs and long leaden\ncasements, were very different to the barely-furnished, squalid places\nin which their descendants of to-day are to be found; and, indeed, the\nSpitalfields weaver even of seventy years ago was usually a well-to-do\nperson; while in the old time he could take \"Saint Monday\" every week,\nwear silver crown-pieces for buttons on his holiday coat, and put on\nsilk stockings on state occasions. This was in the days when French was\nstill spoken in many of the little parlours of houses that stood within\ngardens gay with sweet-scented blooms of sweet-william, ten-weeks-stock,\nand clove-pink. When there was still an embowered greenness in\n\"Bednall,\" and Hare Street Fields were within a stone's throw of\n\"Sinjun\"--St. John, or rather St. Jean Street,--or of the little chapel\nof \"_La Patente_,\" in Brown's Lane, Spitalfields. Even in later times\nthan that, however, I can remember being set up to a table, and shown\nhow to draw on a slate, by an old gentleman with a face streaked like a\nruddy dried pippin. I was just old enough to make out that the tea-table\ntalk was in a strange tongue; but I can remember that there were\nevidences of the refinements that the old refugees had brought with them\nacross the sea. Not only in their neat but spruce attire, in their\npolite grace to women, in their easy, good-humoured play and prattle to\nlittle children, in their cultivation of flowers, their liking for\nbirds, and their taste for music, but in a score of trifling objects\nabout their tidy rooms, where the click of the shuttle was heard from\nmorning to night, these old French folk vindicated their birth and\nbreeding. By tea-services of rare old china, rolls of real \"point\" lace,\na paste buckle, an antique ring, a fat, curiously-engraved watch, a few\ngem-like buttons, delicately-coloured porcelain and chimney ornaments;\nby books and manuscript music, or by flute and fiddle deftly handled in\nthe playing of some old French tune, these people expressed their\ndistinction without being aware of it. It has not even yet died out.\nUnfortunately, many of their descendants--representatives of a miserably\npaid, and now nearly superseded industry--have deteriorated by the\ninfluences of continued poverty; and even so long ago as the evil\nwar-time of Napoleon I., many of the old families anglicised their names\nin deference to British hatred of the French, but there are still a\nlarge number of people in the eastern districts of London whose names,\nfaces, and figures alike proclaim their origin.\n\nBut we must go back once more to the time when the great collection was\nmade. It is at least gratifying to know that the \u00a360,000 soon increased\nto \u00a3200,000, and was afterwards called the \"Royal Bounty,\" though\nRoyalty had nothing to do with it during that reign. In 1686-7 about\n6000 persons were relieved from this fund, and in 1688 27,000 applicants\nreceived assistance, while others had employment found for them, or were\nrelieved by more wealthy _\u00e9migr\u00e9s_ who had retained or recovered some\npart of their possessions. But there were still aged and sick people,\nlittle children, widows, orphans, broken men, homeless women, and lonely\ncreatures who had become almost imbecile or insane through the cruelties\nand privations that they had suffered. For these a refuge was necessary,\nand at length--but not till 1708--an institution was founded in St.\nLuke's, under the name of the French Hospital, but better known to the\n\"old folks\" as the \"Providence.\"\n\nOf what it was and is I design to tell in another chapter.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THE CHILDREN'S CHILDREN._\n\n\nThat great invading French army of nobles, gentry, artists, traders,\nhandicraftsmen, of which some account has already been given, was added\nto from time to time, even as lately as the Revolution, and the\nrestoration of the dynasty after the downfall of Napoleon, when a\nstrange reaction against the Protestants was commenced, partly as a\npretence for concealing political animosity. The department of the Gard\nwas once more the scene of horrible atrocities, against which Lord\nBrougham invoked the aid of the English Parliament, and obtained the\nhelp of Austrian bayonets to protect the people, who were being\nmurdered, tortured, or outraged, in defiance of feeble local\nauthorities. But by this time there was a new generation of the first\ngreat Anglo-French colony in London. Spitalfields had grown to the\ndimensions of a township. Bethnal had begun to lose its greenness. There\nwas, as there still is, a remarkable settlement about Soho. \"Petty\nFrance\" was as well known as the exhibition of needlework in Leicester\nSquare, or Mrs. Salmon's wax figures in Fleet Street.\n\nThose poor refugees who fled to escape from the horrors of Sainte\nGuillotine, or the ruthless cruelties at Nismes, came to brethren many\nof whom had never seen the glowing valleys and golden fields of\nLanguedoc, whence their forefathers escaped only with life and hands to\nwork. They had preserved their national characteristics; they attended\nchurches and chapels where the pastors still spoke their native tongue,\nand where they had established schools for their children; but they had\nsettled down to a quiet, though a busy life, in the heart of the great\nworkshop of the world, and only a few of them--principally the gentry,\nsome of whom had regained a portion of their property--felt frequent or\nurgent impulses to return. More than a hundred and twenty years had\nelapsed since the \"Royal Bounty\" had been expended in the relief of the\n27,000 _\u00e9migr\u00e9s_ who yet were without any permanent refuge for the\ndestitute, the sick, the aged, and the insane among their number. This\nwas in 1688, and it was not till nearly twenty-eight years afterwards\nthat any regular institution was organized. The earlier refugees had\nbecome aged or had died, after having obtained such temporary help as\ncould be afforded by subscriptions or the large benefactions of their\nmore wealthy fellow-countrymen. Still, the later emigrations increased\nthe number of applicants for permanent relief. At last, in 1718, a great\nconcourse of French refugees assembled in a chapel which formed a\nspecial portion of a building only just completed, but which had already\nreceived the dignity of forming the subject of a Royal charter granted\nby His Majesty King George I. to his \"right trusty and right\nwell-beloved\" cousin, Henry de Massue, Marquis de Ruvigny, Earl of\nGalloway, and a number of trusty and well-beloved gentlemen, all\nnaturalized refugees, who made the first governor and directors of the\n\"Hospital for Poor French Protestants and their descendants residing in\nGreat Britain;\" otherwise known as the French Hospital, but soon to be\nspoken of with simple pathetic brevity as \"La Providence.\"\n\nThe idea of founding such a charity was due to a distinguished refugee\nin Holland--no less a personage than M. de Gastigny, Master of the\nHounds to Prince William of Orange; a ruddy, jovial-looking gentleman\nwithal, whose portrait, should you go to see it, will set you wondering\nwhether he could ever have been classed among the \"sour sectaries\" to\nwhom it was the fashion to attribute a disregard of social pleasures. A\nbequest of a thousand pounds sterling from the bluff keeper of the\nkennels was to be divided into equal sums--\u00a3500 for the building, and\nthe interest of the remaining \u00a3500 to be spent on its maintenance.\n\nNot a very adequate provision, truly, for any such purpose; but\nsufficiently suggestive to set the more prosperous members of the great\nAnglo-French colony to increase the amount. The astute Master of the\nHounds must surely have foreseen this result when he left this legacy to\nthe management of the trustees of the already existing relief fund,\nstill miscalled \"the Royal Bounty.\" They exhibited that prudence in\nmoney matters which is a French characteristic, and let the thousand\npounds accumulate for eight years, after which a general subscription\nwas invited from successful merchants and traders, while with a just\nappreciation of the benefits which had been conferred by these good\ncitizens on the land of their adoption, some wealthy Englishmen added\ntheir contributions to the general fund.\n\nThus it came about, that a piece of land was purchased in the Golden\nAcre--a queer old half-countrified precinct of St. Giles,\nCripplegate--that a building was erected for the reception of eighty\npoor persons, that a charter was granted, and that the new charitable\nassociation was consecrated in the new chapel by Philippe Menard, the\nminister of the French Church of St. James's and secretary of the\nenterprise.\n\nThis was, indeed, something worth working for. The aged or afflicted\npoor among the refugees were no longer mere mendicants living on\nprecarious alms. Out of their abundance the more prosperous gave\ncheerfully. In 1736 another adjoining site was purchased, and another\nside of the great open quadrangle of garden ground was built upon, so\nthat by 1760 the \"Providence\" numbered 230 inmates. This, however, was\nits culminating point of usefulness. Religious persecution had\ndiminished, and at length may be said to have ceased altogether. Even as\nearly as 1720 only 5000 persons required relief from the \"Bounty,\" so\nthat eventually the trustees were enabled to devote part of it to the\nassistance of those who fled from the Revolution--many of whom were the\ndescendants of those who had been the persecutors of the Protestants.\nThe great industrial colony, prudent, temperate, and industrious, had\nalmost grown beyond its earlier needs--and all that it required was that\nsome adequate provision should be made for infirm or aged men and women,\nwho being widowed or unmarried, and without means of support, required a\nrefuge in which they might peacefully end their days. The same causes\nwhich had diminished the number of applicants had also reduced the\namount of current subscriptions, so that some portion of the building\nwas removed, as being no longer necessary, and in order to secure a\nsufficient endowment an Act of Parliament was obtained, empowering the\ndirectors to let their land on building leases. By that time the\nneighbourhood was known not as \"the Golden Acre,\" but as St. Luke's, and\non the ground once purchased by the Marquis de Ruvigny and his trusty\nand well-beloved companions, grew Radnor Street, Galway Street, Gastigny\nPlace, and part of Bath Street, while the number of inmates was reduced\nto sixty--that is to say, about twenty men and forty women, all of whom\nwere to be above sixty years of age, of French extraction, and\nprofessing the Protestant religion. It was a queer old range of\nbuilding, that retreat; pleasant enough, perhaps, when as a rather blank\nseries of red brick houses, it looked across its own formal walled\ngarden to the pleasant fields and open country, but strangely silent,\nand with a crumbling, dreary look about it, when the lunatic asylum of\nSt. Luke's dominated all the surrounding tenements of a crowded, sordid\nneighbourhood. Only the initiated could easily find the little low black\ndoor that opened in the bare wall, and led to the large irregular space,\nwhich was laid out in weedy beds and stony borders, distinguished by an\nair of decay rather than of production--especially where in certain dank\ncorners a tangle of sapless stalks and tendrils indicated some faintly\nhopeful attempt to rear an arbour, in which persons of robust\nimagination might fancy they were sheltered from impending blacks that\nissued from the manufactory chimneys close by. The visitor to this\nout-of-the-way corner of the great city, seeing the old people walking\nup and down the paved causeway in front of the row of crooked-paned\nlower windows, or airing themselves at the doorsteps, might be excused\nfor the fancy that they had the imaginative faculty of children; and\nwere expected to \"make believe\" a good deal before they could quite\nreconcile themselves to the notion that this dingy area of quadrilateral\nplots and paths, in which the wet stood in small puddles, was ever a\n\"pleasaunce\" gay with garden blooms, and smelling of knotted marjoram\nand fragrant thyme. Yet there were still evidences of the invincible\ncheerfulness of the old French nature, among the old creatures with\nfaces streaked like winter apples, and hands which, even though they\ntrembled, were swift of gesture and of emphasis.\n\nThere were old fellows there who had still about them indications of\ntrue comeliness and grace that distinguished them from all vulgar\nsurroundings;--ancient gentlemen, who would go out on wet days to sweep\naway any rainpools that might lie before the doors of the old ladies,\nand so besmirch an otherwise immaculate shoe. It should be remembered,\ntoo, that there was no livery there. Those who had some one to help them\nto the garb of gentility wore what pleased them; those who were\ndependent on the charity for clothing, were neither bound in one\npattern, nor condemned to the uniform of poverty. Neat or lively cotton\nprints, or warm stuff gowns, with proper hose and caps and kerchiefs,\nfor the women; plain Oxford mixture, black, steel grey, or brown, for\nthe men, and each one measured for his suit. Those who entered there\nwere not the recipients of a dole grudgingly conceded. It was no\npoorhouse, but the \"Providence.\" Only eleven years ago there were some\nevidences of the old meaning of the place in the remnants of the antique\nfurniture which adorned the queer rooms. They were not wards or\ndormitories, but veritable bedrooms; and each one had its own\npeculiarities, even in the bedsteads with spindle posts and dimity\nhangings, the boxes and cupboards, and special chairs which\ndistinguished it from the rest. Some of these things had evidently been\nheirlooms either of the institution or of the individual; and, indeed,\nthe preservation of individuality was a cheerful feature of the place,\ndespite its dim and somewhat dreary surroundings.\n\nThe Board Room was, in its way, one of the most extraordinary apartments\nin London: with its tables supported by a tangled puzzle of legs, its\nhigh-backed, polished chairs with leather seats, worn till they reminded\none of the cover of an antique ledger bound in unfinished calf; its\nwonderful old black-framed prints representing the meetings of the\nHuguenots in the Clerk's field in the times when men and women carried\ntheir lives in their hands, and dragoons rode congregations down and\nslashed them with sabres as they fell. Its dimly-seen portraits of the\nnoble, broad-browed, dark-eyed Ruvigny (the first governor), who refused\nto go back to France even at the invitation of the King; of the gentle\nPastor Menard, with high, capacious forehead, and calm, strong mien; of\nhale, shrewd, ruddy Gastigny; and of some men of later date, with\nFrenchman written in every line of their finely-marked faces.\n\nThe little room set apart as a chapel--a barely-furnished place enough,\nwith desk and raised platform and plain seats--was venerable because of\nall the meaning that lay in its studied absence of all ornament, and\nbecause of the significance it must once have had to the sad-eyed men\nwho crowded into it, some of them thinking, perhaps, how it had come\nabout that they could stand there in peace and without a hand upon the\nhilt of a sword.\n\nThere were, even at that later time, old men and women in the dim old\nbuilding who could repeat family legends of the emigration--for they\nlived to a great age, these French folk, many of them being still alert\nof eye and ear, and foot, even though they had heard the click of the\nshuttle and the rattle of the loom eighty years before.\n\nSome of them have survived the old place itself; for while they are in a\nnew home, the ancient building has changed, if even it be not altogether\ndismantled. The leases paid good interest, and eight years ago a new\nFrench hospital arose--away from the dingy old precinct of the Golden\nAcre.\n\nTo see this later \"Providence\" aright, you must come through the very\nheart of that neighbourhood which was once the great Silk Colony, thread\nthe bye-ways of Poverty Market, note the tall silent houses where the\nlooms no longer rattle, nor the sharp whirr of the shuttle stirs\ncage-birds to sing; pass across the debatable land lying on the edge of\nShoreditch, where human beings live in sties built in the backyards of\nother houses, in streets that are still with the blank silence of misery\nand want. You should walk amidst pigeon and dog fanciers; call in at\ncertain dingy, slipshod taverns, where at night a slouching company will\nmeet to hear bullfinches pipe for wagers, and where starving men and\nwomen stand and drink away the pence that are all too few to buy food\nfor the starving brood at home, and so are flung upon the sloppy counter\nin exchange for the drugged drink that feels like food and fire in one.\nThrough Bethnal Green, with its \"townships\" and its \"Follies,\" extending\nin sordid rows of tenements built to one dreary pattern. Over districts\nwhich, only a few years ago, were fields and open spaces, leading to\nfarm lands and hedgerows, and so away to the great expanse of marsh land\nwhere the dappled kine wade knee-deep in the lush pastures, and the\nstunted pollards stand like patient fishermen upon the river's brink.\n\nYes, the present \"French Hospital\"--New Providence--was built ten years\nago in the border-land beyond the Weavers' Garden, that great garden and\npleasure-ground known as Victoria Park. It is the only garden left to\nthe descendants of those old craftsmen who once dwelt in houses every\none of which had its gay plot of flowers, its rustic arbour, or its\nquaint device of grotto-work, built up of oddly-shaped stones and\npearl-edged oyster-shells. Do you think there is now no remnant of the\nold French folk left? Come for a stroll among the grand beds and\nplantations of this East-end playground, and you shall see. On holidays\nand alas! on those days when (to use the expressive term handed down\nfrom prosperous times) the weaver is \"at play\"--that is to say, waiting\nfor woof and weft, and so wiling away the sad and often hunger-bringing\nhours--you will see him, with his keen well-cut face, his dark\nappreciative eye, his long delicate hands, his well-brushed, threadbare\ncoat and hat; and the mark of race is plainly to be noted in his\nintensity of look and his subdued patient bearing. He comes of a stock\nwhich had it not been of the hardiest and the most temperate and\nenduring in the world, would have disappeared a century ago. On Sunday\nmornings, when the bells are sounding round about him, he is to be met\nwith lingering (with who shall say what inner sense of worship) by the\nstrange shrubs and flowering plants, or standing with a pathetic look of\nmomentary satisfaction on his lean, mobile face, to mark the rare glow\nand gush of colour made by the blooms in a \"ribbon\" device of flowers on\na sunny border by a dark background of cedar. But come and see what his\nforefathers might have called, in their Scripture phraseology, \"the\nremnant of the children of Israel;\" the old inmates of that French\nHospital founded so long ago when De Ruvigny was the \"beloved cousin\" of\nGeorge I., and Philippe Menard preached at St. James's; when the Duchess\nde la Force brought donation after donation to the work, and Philippe\nHervart, Baron d'Huningue gave \u00a34,000, all in one splendid contribution,\nto the building fund. Could they have seen (who knows that they have\nnot?) this great French ch\u00e2teau rising beyond the park palings in a\nneighbourhood fast filling with houses, but still open to the air that\nblows from the Weavers' Garden and from the great expanse of land\nleading towards the forest, they would have recognised the familiar\nstyle of those grand mansions which in France succeeded the castles of\nthe feudal nobility when Henry Quatre was king. The high-pointed roof\nwith its irregularly picturesque lines, the quaint towers and spires,\nthe slate blue and purple, and rosy tints of colour in slope and wall\nand gable; the various combinations of form and hue changing with every\npoint of view, make this modern copy of the old French ch\u00e2teau a\nwonderful feature in any landscape, and the unaccustomed visitor seeing\nit as it stands there in its own ornamental ground, surrounded by a\nquaint wall decorated in coloured bands, wonders what can be the meaning\nof a building so full of suggestion; while if he be of an imaginative\nturn, he may fall into a daydream when he peers through the gate that\nstands by the porter's lodge.\n\nBut let us pass through this gate, and so up to the entrance-hall, and\nwe shall seem to leave behind us not only the Weavers' Garden, but most\nthings English. The hall itself, paved with encaustic tile, leads to a\nflight of broad, shallow steps, beneath an arched ceiling of variegated\nbrick and two screen arches. These steps conduct us at once to a central\ncorridor, extending for the entire length of the building, and rising to\nthe greatest height of the open roof of timber with its lofty skylights.\nIn front of us is a double stone staircase, one branch being for the old\nladies, the other for the men; and immediately at the foot of the former\ndivision is the entrance to the refectory, a large handsome dining-hall,\nwhere, at two long tables, this wonderful company assemble, only the\nvery infirm having their meals carried to the upper ward, where they are\nwaited on by paid attendants. Separate staircases are provided for the\nservants of the establishment, whose rooms are in the tower above the\nmain wards--or rather, let us say, principal apartments, for they are\nnot so much wards as a series of twenty-two large bedrooms, linen-rooms,\nand two bath-rooms. The steward of the hospital, a venerable gentleman\nwith the courteous air and speech of some seneschal of olden time, has\nalso his own apartments, reached by a third stair, his sitting-room and\noffice occupying a space close to the entrance. On the right of the main\nstaircase and at the end of the corridor is the ladies' sitting-room, a\nfine high-windowed light and lofty place, admirably warmed, as indeed\nall the building is, and so furnished that at each large square table\nfour old ladies can sit and have not only ample space for books or\nneedlework, but on her right hand each can open a special separate\ntable-drawer with lock and key, wherein to keep such waifs and\nstrays--shreds, patches, skeins, and unconsidered trifles--as children\nand old women like to accumulate. There is another day-room beside this,\nand a similar, though not quite so large an apartment is provided for\nthe men, both rooms being furnished with sundry books and a few sober\nperiodicals of the day.\n\nIt must not be forgotten though that many of the old gentlemen have\ngrown accustomed to the use of tobacco, and here in the basement is a\nsmoking-room, quite out of the way of the ordinary sitting and\ndining-rooms, and not far from the laundry and drying-rooms, which form\nan important part of the establishment.\n\nBut, hush! there is a hymn sounding yonder in the refectory; a hymn sung\nby voices, many of which are yet fresh and clear, though the singers\nnumber more than eighty years of life, and of life that has often been\nhard and full of heaviness.\n\nIt is the grace before meat, and the hot joints, with the fresh\nvegetables from their own garden, have just come up from the big kitchen\nby means of a lift to the serving-room.\n\nThere are no servants to wait at table, and the family dinner-party is a\nprivate one, inasmuch as it is the custom here for the most active of\nthe inmates to agree among themselves who shall be butler, or\n_beaufeti\u00e8re_, for each day during the week. So the dinner-time goes\npleasantly and quickly, the meat, the vegetables, and the capital\nhousehold beer, of which each man has a pint twice a day, and each woman\nhalf a pint, being the only articles that require serving.\n\nThe good old-fashioned family custom of everybody having his or her own\nteapot is observed here. A great gas-boiler stands on one side the\nrefectory, and a row of convenient lockers on the other; and each inmate\nhas tea and coffee from the stores, while bread and butter are also\nserved out for consumption according to each individual fancy, and not\nin rations at each meal time. Thus those old ladies and gentlemen who\nhave spending money, or friends to bring them some of the little\nluxuries that they so keenly appreciate, can add a relish to their\nbreakfast or to the evening beer.\n\nWe will not go in while they are at dinner, for there are those here yet\nwho \"might have been gentlefolk\" but for the mutability of mortal\naffairs. Stay! here come the old ladies, with old-fashioned curtseys,\nwhich are more than half a bow, and not a mere vulgar \"bob.\" There is no\nmistaking some of their faces. You may see their like in French\npictures, or in old French towns still. Some of them with eyes from\nwhich the fire had not yet died out; with deftly-moving fingers; with a\nquick, springy step; with an inherited remnant of the French _moue_ and\nshrug, as they answer a gentle jest about their age and comeliness.\n\n\"Eighty-four; and I don't know how it is, but I don't seem to see so\nwell in the dark as I used. When I went out to see my brother-in-law, I\nwas quite glad he came part of the way home with me.\"\n\n\"Turned eighty, but I can't get upstairs as I used to do.\"\n\n\"You speak French, madame?\"\n\n\"Pas beaucoup, monsieur;\" this from one of the only two actual French\nwomen now in the establishment, the rest being lineal descendants only.\nThe oldest, who is now going quietly and with a very pretty dignity out\nof the refectory, is ninety-four, and can not only hear a low-toned\ninquiry, but answers it in a soft, pleasant voice. She bears the weight\nof years bravely, but the burden has perhaps been heavy; and she speaks\nin a mournful tone, as one looking forward to a mansion among the\nmany--to a house not made with hands, may sometimes speak when even the\ngrasshopper becomes a burden.\n\nAs to a young person of sixty-five or thereabout, nobody regards her as\nhaving any real business to mention such a trifling experience of life;\nwhile of the men--most of whom seemed to have filed off for their pipe\nor newspaper--one remains finishing his dinner, for he has been on duty\nfor the day, and is now winding up with a snack of bread-and-butter and\nthe remainder of his mug of porter--a stoutly-built, hale,\nstalwart-looking gentleman who, sitting there without his coat, which\nhangs on the back of a chair, might pass for a retired master mariner,\nor a representative of some position requiring no little energy and\nendurance. I fancy, for the moment that he must be an official appointed\nto serve or carve and employed on the establishment.\n\n\"Eighty-four,\" and one of the old weaving colony of Bethnal Green.\n\nThere can be no mistake about it. Every inmate provides certificates and\nregisters enough to make the claim undoubted; and as to the right by\ndescent, half the people here carry it in their faces, and to the\ninitiated, are as surely French, as they are undoubtedly weavers.\n\nThe morning here begins with family prayers, which the steward reads\nfrom a desk in the refectory, and so the day closes also. The Sunday\nservices are in the chapel, and such a chapel! To those who remember the\ndim, barely-furnished room in the old building at St. Luke's, this gem\nof architectural taste and simple beauty at the end of the main corridor\ncomes with no little surprise. Its beautiful carved stone corbels,\nmosaic floor, and charming ornamentation; its broad gallery entered\nimmediately from the upper floor, so that the feeble and infirm may go\nto worship directly from their sleeping-rooms; its glow of subdued\ncolour and sobered light from windows of stained glass; its simple\ndecorations, and its spotless purity, are no less remarkable than the\nplainness which characterises the general effect. It is to be noticed,\ntoo, that there is no \"altar,\" but \"a table;\" that neither at the back\nof the communion nor on the carving of the lectern, nor even in the\nwindows, is there to be seen a cross. Where the Maltese cross would\noccur amidst the arabesques of the stained glass, we see the\nfleur-de-lis. French Protestantism, has perhaps, not yet lost its\nintense significance, at all events here, in this chapel where the\nservice of the Church of England is observed, and an ordained clergyman\nministers to the family of the children's children of the ancient\npersecuted people of Languedoc, the symbol under which the Protestants\nwere burned and tortured and exiled has no place. This is probably in\naccordance with the traditions left by De Ruvigny, by Gastigny, by\nMenard, and by their successors, whose portraits still hang in the fine\nboard-room of the new \"Providence.\"\n\nOf course, no contributions or subscriptions are now asked for to\nsupport this old French charity. With it are associated one or two gifts\nof money, such as that of Stephen Mounier for apprenticing two boys; and\nthe bequest of Madame Esther Coqueau for giving ten shillings monthly to\nten poor widows or maidens; but the directors do not seek for external\naid. To the charity when it was first chartered was added a portion of\nthe accumulations of the benefactions of the French Church at Norwich,\nand it may here be mentioned that at Norwich, where a contingent of the\narmy of refugees had settled, the Society of Universal Goodwill was also\nestablished by Dr. John Murray, a good physician, who strove to extend\nto a large organisation a plan for relieving distressed foreigners. This\nwas but ninety years ago, and it was less successful than its promoter\ndesired, so that part of the funds accumulated were judiciously handed\nto another admirable society in London, of which I shall have something\nto say, \"The Society of the Friends of Foreigners in Distress.\"\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THE STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND._\n\n\nDo we ever try to realise the full meaning of the declaration that they\nwho are afar off shall be made near by the blood of Christ? Surely it\ndoes not stop at the nearness to God by redemption, for the only true\nredemption is Christ-likeness, and nearness to God assumes nearness to\neach other in the exercise of that loving-kindness which is the very\nmark and evidence of our calling.\n\nIt would be well if we sometimes ceased to separate by our vague\nimaginations \"the next world,\" or \"the other world,\" from the present\nworld, which is, perhaps in a very real sense, if we could only read the\nwords spiritually, \"the world to come\" also;--as it is obvious that the\nworld means the people around us--ourselves, those who are near and\nthose who seem to be afar off; and no world to come that could dispense\nwith our identity would be of any particular significance to us as human\nbeings.\n\nLet us then, for the present purpose, try to see how effectually\nChrist-likeness should bring near to us those who are afar off, by\ntaking us near to them; how He who came not to destroy but to fulfil,\nlooks to us to entertain strangers; and to \"be careful\" in the\nperformance of that duty, as to Him who will say either, \"I was a\nstranger, and ye took me in,\" or the reverse.\n\nAt the beginning of the present century, with the exception of the\nFrench Protestant organisation, there existed in London no established\nassociation for the relief of destitute foreigners who, having sought a\nrefuge here, or being, as it were, thrown upon our shores, were left in\ndistress, hunger, or sickness,--unheeded, only obtaining such temporary\ncasual relief as a few charitable persons might afford, if by any chance\ntheir necessities were made known to them. At that time the foreign\nProtestant clergy, to whom alone many of these destitute men and women\ncould apply for relief, were themselves mostly the poor pastors of\ncongregations consisting either of refugees or of artisans and persons\nearning their livelihood by precarious labour connected with the lighter\nornamental manufactures. The means at their disposal for charitable\npurposes outside their own churches were consequently very small, and\nthey were unable to render any really effectual assistance, even if they\ncould have undertaken, what would at that time have been the difficult\ntask of verifying the needs for which relief was claimed.\n\nSome attempt had already been made by Dr. John Murray, a good physician\nof Norwich, to extend to London the benefits of his \"Society of\nUniversal Goodwill;\" but the scheme had been only partially successful.\nTo him, however, the credit is due of having striven to give definite\nshape to an association which was afterwards to take up the good work of\ncaring for strangers. The foreign Protestant clergy settled in London\nmet to consider how they might best organise a regular plan for\nrelieving the wants of those who had so often to apply to them in vain;\nand having settled the preliminaries, which were heartily approved by\nseveral foreign merchants, and others, who were willing to assist in any\nscheme that would include inquiry into the circumstances of those who\nsought assistance, called a public meeting in order to found a regular\ninstitution. This was on the 3rd of July, 1806, and the result of the\nappeal was the formation of the society of \"The Friends of Foreigners in\nDistress.\" By the following April, a committee had been formed and the\nCharity was in working order, nor were funds long wanting with which to\ncommence the work in earnest. The cases requiring relief were so\nnumerous, however, and the demands on the society's resources were so\nconstant, that though some large donations were afterwards obtained from\nsenates, corporations, wealthy merchants, ambassadors, noblemen, and\nRoyal benefactors, a considerable subscription list became necessary in\norder to enable the society to grant even partial relief to cases, the\nurgent claims of which were established by careful inquiry.\n\nThere is a wonderful suggestiveness in the list of \"Royal Benefactors\n(deceased),\" headed by his late Majesty King William IV., and her late\nMajesty the Queen Dowager Adelaide. More than one of the Royal donors\nthemselves died in exile; and several of those who shared their\nmisfortunes, and were their faithful followers, have shared the small\nbenefits which the Society had to bestow. \"His late Majesty King Charles\nX. of France\" contributed \u00a3300; \"His late Majesty Louis Philippe,\" 100\nguineas; the unfortunate Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico, \u00a325; and his\nlate Imperial Majesty Napoleon III., \u00a350: while their Magnificencies the\nSenates of the Free German Towns, as well as the humbler companies of\nLondon's citizens, appear to have given liberally. Notwithstanding all\nthis, however, the Society has not been able to retain funded property\nto any considerable amount, and it is to the annual subscription\nlist--to which our Queen contributes \u00a3100, the Emperor of Germany \u00a3100,\nand the Emperor of Austria \u00a3100--that the charity must look for support.\n\nUnhappily there are evidences that these annual subscriptions are fewer\nthan they should be. There seems still to be some reluctance on the part\nof the general public steadily to support an effort which has a very\ndistinct and pressing claim upon Englishmen, who pride themselves,\njustly enough, upon the free asylum which this country affords to\nforeigners, and who appear ready to give largely in the way of\noccasional aid. The disparity between the number of handsome donations\nand of very moderate annual subscriptions is a painful feature of the\nSociety's report, and even public appeals have hitherto been followed\nrather by increased applications from persons recommending cases for\nrelief, _without accompanying the recommendation with a subscription_,\nthan by any decided augmentation of the funds. The Friends of Foreigners\nin Distress are principally to be found amongst prosperous foreigners in\nLondon, and doubtless this is no less than just; but until larger aid is\ngiven by the English public, we have no particular reason to include\nthis association in any boastful estimate of British charity.\n\nThat the committee does its work carefully, and that cases of distress\nare relieved only after due inquiry, and with no such careless hand as\nwould encourage idle dependence or promote pauperism, is evident enough\nto anybody who will take the trouble to inquire into the method of\nassistance. Let us go and see.\n\nPerhaps not one Londoner in a thousand could tell you offhand where to\nfind Finsbury Chambers. It is probably less known even than Prudent\nPassage, or what was once Alderman's Walk; and may be said to be less\nattractive than either, for it is a dingy, frowsy, little out-of-the-way\ncorner in that undecided and rather dreary thoroughfare--London Wall. It\nis, in fact, a space without any outlet, and looks as though it ought to\nhave been a builder's yard, but that the builder took to erecting houses\non it as a speculation which never answered, even though they were let\nout as \"chambers;\" that is to say, as blank rooms and sets of offices,\nthe supposed occupiers whereof committed themselves to obscurity by\ncausing their names to be painted on the doorposts, and leaving them\nthere to fade till time and dirt shall wholly obliterate them.\n\nAnd yet it is in one of these lower rooms, occupying the ground floor of\nNo. 10, that a good work is going on; for here, in an office almost\nrepresentatively bare and dingy even in that place, the Society of\nFriends of Foreigners in Distress holds its weekly meetings of\ndirectors, and the secretary, Mr. William Charles Laurie, or his\nassistant, Mr. C. P. Smith, gives daily attendance (Saturdays excepted),\nbetween eleven and one o'clock. Assuredly, the funds of the charity are\nnot expended in luxurious appointments for its headquarters. Even a\nGerman commission agent just commencing business could scarcely have a\nmore simply-furnished apartment. The objects which first strike the\nvisitor's attention are a row of japanned tin candlesticks, meant for\nthe use of the board at any of their Wednesday meetings which may be\nprolonged till after dusk. The furniture, if it was ever new, must have\nbeen purchased with a regard for economy in the very early history of\nthe society. The work is evidently so organised as to require no long\ndaily attendance. The place is furnished only according to the temporary\nnecessities of business quickly dispatched. Neither in official\nsalaries, nor in expensive official belongings, are the funds of the\ninstitution wasted.\n\nThe system is, in fact, simple enough, and is conducted on the\nprinciples laid down by the first meetings of the committee above\nseventy years ago, with one important exception. Formerly, applicants\nfor relief must have been for some time resident in England; but changes\nin transit, and the more rapid intercommunication of nations, have made\nit necessary that some ready aid should be granted to those who find\nthemselves cast upon the terrible London wilderness without a friend to\nhelp them, ignorant to whom to apply for help, and little able even to\nmake known their sufferings.\n\nEvery Wednesday, then, the directors meet for receiving applications for\nrelief, and reports of cases that have been investigated by the Visiting\nCommittee.\n\nThe plan adopted is to issue to the governors of the charity a number of\nsmall tickets, each of which, when signed and bearing the name of the\napplicant for relief, entitles the latter to apply to the weekly\ncommittee for an investigation of his case. Every subscriber of a guinea\nis regarded as a governor for a year, and there are, of course, life\ngovernors also. Both these are entitled to recommend cases either for\nwhat may be termed casual relief, or for election as pensioners to\nreceive weekly assistance (of from 2_s._ to 5_s._, and in cases of\nextreme old age or great infirmity, 7_s._ 6_d._ a week), sick\nallowances, or passage money to enable applicants to return to their own\ncountry.\n\nIt may easily be believed how a small weekly contribution will often\nsave a destitute man or woman, or a poor family, from that utter\ndestitution which would result from the inability to pay rent even for a\nsingle room; while in cases of sickness, the regular allowance even of a\nvery trifling sum will enable many a poor sufferer to tide over a period\nof pain and weakness, during which earnings, already small, are either\nreduced or cease altogether.\n\nIn cases of urgent necessity four superintendents are appointed from the\nboard of directors, with the power to grant immediate relief; and of\ncourse many applicants receive temporary assistance from the governor\nwho recommends them, until their case is investigated by the committee,\nand they are on the list of the worthy and indefatigable \"visitor.\"\n\nAfter the expulsion of the Germans from Paris during the late war, that\nlittle dingy quadrangle in London Wall was filled with a strange crowd\nof lost and helpless foreigners, whose condition would admit of only a\ntemporary inquiry, and indeed needed little investigation, since want\nand misery were written legibly enough in their faces. For a large\nnumber of these, passage money had to be paid, and the relief was\ncontinued till the press of refugees from France abated. There was a\nspecial subscription for the relief of these poor creatures, raised\nchiefly among German merchants living in London, and even now the\nSociety has to extend a helping hand to some who still remain.\n\nAny one wandering by accident into Finsbury Buildings on a Wednesday\nforenoon, would wonder what so many subdued and rather anxious-looking\nmen were waiting about for in such an out-of-the-way locality--some of\nthem leaning against the wall inside, others sitting in the bare room,\njust within the barer passage. Every one of these has had his\ncircumstances carefully inquired into, and is in attendance to receive\nwhat may be called temporary relief. During the official year of my\nlatest visit 150 homeward passages had been paid, and in the two years\nfrom 1871 to 1873 the number of persons who received relief was 21,333,\nwho with their wives and families represented a considerable community\nof poverty. During the year 1,983 grants were made of sums varying from\nless than 10_s._ to 1,324 persons, 10_s._ to 431, 15_s._ to 47, \u00a31 to\n135, and so on to \u00a35, which was allowed in a few instances, while sick\nallowances were granted in 292 cases. One important and suggestive\nfeature of this excellent Society is that it numbers among its members\nnot only subscribers to other charitable institutions, but members of\nthe medical and legal professions, who frequently render their aid to\napplicants free of expense, in order either to relieve them from\nsuffering, or to protect them from the errors or impositions to which\ntheir ignorance and helplessness might expose them.\n\nThere is no restriction either as regards creed or nationality, and\nthough each case is matter for inquiry, the only persons disqualified\nfor receiving relief are those who are detected as impostors--persons\nwho are deemed to have sufficient support from any other source, those\nwho cannot give a good reason for having come to this country, and proof\nof their having striven to obtain work and to labour for a maintenance,\nthose who are proved to have been guilty of fraud or immoral practices,\nand beggars, or drunken, dissolute persons.\n\nAs regards the numbers of persons who have received relief since the\ninstitution was founded, there is the tremendous total of 21,645\napplicants on behalf of 129,299 individuals. What an army it represents!\nOf these Germany (which till recently included Austria, Hungary, and\nBohemia) represents 71,913; Sweden and Norway, 9,422; Holland, 8,878;\nFrance, 7,339; Russia, 7,006; Italy, 5,415; Belgium, 4,578; Denmark,\n4,215; the West Indies, 1,716; Switzerland, 1,685; and so on in a\ndiminishing proportion till we come to \"Central Africa!\"--a very recent\ncase, no doubt.\n\nCan any one question the good that has been effected by an institution\nso careful not only to relieve with rigid economy, but also to do its\nwork on so truly voluntary a principle? If the temporary and\ncomparatively casual aid afforded to poor and destitute strangers works\nso beneficially, however, the pensions, to which only very extreme cases\nare elected, are even still more in the nature of help given to those\nwho are ready to perish, Here are some specimen cases:\n\nA watchmaker of Frankfort, seventy-four years old, and nearly seventy\nyears in this country, disabled by paralysis, with a wife, who is a\nwaistcoat maker, unable to compete with the sewing-machine; one son,\ntwenty years old, who, having some small situation, lives with them,\npays the rent, and \"does what he can;\" a boy of fourteen who works as an\nerrand boy.\n\nAn Italian looking-glass maker, seventy-three years old, and fifty-three\nyears in this country. Has lately lived by making light frames, but\nhealth and strength fail, and he is suffering from asthma. His wife, an\nEnglishwoman, and aged sixty-six, works as a charwoman. He has two sons,\neach married and with large families, so that they can do nothing for\nhim.\n\nA French widow, sixty-seven years old, and thirty-two years in this\ncountry, and paralysed for the last thirteen years. Her only daughter\nwho is in delicate health, earns her \"living\" by needlework, but can\nonly gain enough for her own maintenance.\n\nThese are only three of the first cases in the official report of\npensioners, and they are not selected because of their peculiarly\ndistressing character. When it is remembered that this society has not,\nin a general way, sufficient means to grant more than _two shillings a\nweek_ in the way of relief, and when we take the trouble to observe that\nin the majority of cases where a pension is granted the recipients have\nbeen so long resident here that they may be said to have lost their\nnationality in ours, will it be too much to ask of England--alike the\nasylum for the persecuted and the teacher of liberty and of\ncharity--that the \"Friends of Foreigners in Distress\" shall be regarded\nas the friends of all of us alike in the name of Him of whom it was\nsaid, \"Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?\"\n\nBut I have not quite done with the pensioners. I must ask the reader to\ngo with me to Lower Norwood, where amidst a strange solitude, that is\nalmost desolation, we will visit three ladies of the _ancien r\u00e9gime_,\none of whom, at least, began life nearly ninety years ago as a fitting\nplaymate for the daughter of a king.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THOSE WHO ARE LEFT DESOLATE._\n\n\nThere is something about the aspect of Nature as seen from the railway\nstation at Lower Norwood on a damp and misty day which, if not\ndepressing, can scarcely be regarded as conducive to unusual hilarity. I\nspeak guardedly because of my respect for the district, and lest I\nshould in any way be suspected of depreciating any particular locality\nas an eligible place of residence. In the latter regard I may mention\nthat the immediate neighbourhood of Lower Norwood Station is not at\npresent converted into a small township by the erection of long rows of\ntenements on freehold or long leasehold plots. My remarks apply only to\nthe general outlook from the road, amidst an atmosphere threatening\ndrizzle, and beneath a sky betokening rain. As far as houses are\nconcerned, there seemed to me, on the occasion of my last visit, far\nmore probability of pulling down than of building. In fact, I went for\nthe purpose of inspecting a whole series of very remarkable tenements\nwhich I had heard were soon either to disappear from the oozy-looking\ngreen quadrangle of which they formed three sides, or were to be\nconverted to another purpose than that of the dwelling-places of a few\nelderly ladies who occupied one dreary side, whence they could look at\nthe desolation of the closed houses on the other.[1]\n\nIt will not be without regret that I shall hear of this intention being\ncarried out, for the houses are devoted to the sheltering of alms-folk;\nand the alms-folk are the elder pensioners of that admirable\nassociation, the Society of the Friends of Foreigners in Distress,\nwhich, for above ninety years, has been doing its useful work among\nthose who, but for its prompt and judicious aid, would feel that they\nwere \"alone in a strange land.\"\n\nAs a part of its original provision for the relief of some of the\napplicants who, after long residence in this country, had fallen into a\ndistressed condition at an age when they were unable any longer to\nmaintain themselves by their own exertions, the society instituted the\nalmshouses at Lower Norwood. There is now an impression among the\ndirectors of the charity that their intentions may be carried out in\nfuture by some better method than placing a number of aged and\nfrequently infirm persons in a comparatively remote group of dwellings,\nwhere they are peculiarly lonely, and lack frequent personal attention\nand general sympathy. There can be no doubt that almshouses have\nfrequently been associated a little too closely with that monastic or\nconventual practice with which they mostly originated, and that the\nretirement, almost amounting to seclusion, into which the inmates of\nsuch places are removed, may be very far from affording to the aged the\nkind of asylum which they most desire. Alas, in many instances, to be\nplaced in an almshouse is to be put out of the way,--to be conveniently\ndisposed of; with the inference that every possible provision has been\nmade for comfortable maintenance. Thus, susceptibilities are quieted.\nThe aged pensioners are supposed to be periodically visited; their wants\nattended to by somebody or other who \"sees that they are all right,\" and\nthe whole matter is conveniently forgotten, except when a casual\ntraveller passes a quaint, ancient, mouldy-looking, but still\npicturesque block of buildings, and inquires to what charity they\nbelong; not without a kind of uneasy fancy that there is a custom in\nthis country of burying certain old people before their time--shutting\nthem out of the light and warmth of every-day companionship; or, to\nchange the metaphor, making organised charity a kind of Hooghly, on the\ntide of which the aged, who are supposed to be nearing the end of their\nmortal life, are floated into oblivion until the memory of them is\nrevived by death.\n\nIt is no part of my intention to represent that the almshouses at Lower\nNorwood bore such a significance, but the conditions to which I have\nreferred appear to be so inevitable where places like these are\nconcerned, that I cannot question the good sense of the directors of the\nCharity in determining to supersede them, and to carry on the work by\nannual or monthly pensions only. On behalf of the few remaining inmates\nof these queer, half-deserted, and failing tenements, it was desirable\nthat the proposition should be acted on at once, and a more comfortable\nprovision be made, at least, for those who wait on, with constantly\ndeferred hope, doubly heart-sickening when so little time is to be\ncounted on, in which something will be done before the houses\nthemselves, crumbling to decay, become but a type of their own forlorn\nold age.\n\nIt is with some such thoughts as these that I stand at the entrance to\nthe green, with last year's weedy aftermath still dank and tangled with\nwind and rain. The queer little one-storied dark-red houses of the\nquadrangle bear a melancholy resemblance to a set of dilapidated and\ndiscarded toys, the box for which has been lost. They are built, too, on\na kind of foreign-toy pattern, with queer outside staircases, leading to\nstreet-doors under a portico, which is the only entrance to the upper\nstorey, the lower doors in the quadrangle communicating only with the\nground-floor. The crunch of my footsteps along the moist path, gives no\necho; the place seems to be too dull and lifeless even for that kind of\nresponse. The left wing and far the greater portion of the centre block\nare still with the silence of desertion. Peering through the dim leaden\ncasements, I see only small, bare, empty rooms. There is a sense of\nmildew and of damp plaster peeling from the walls,--of leaky\nwater-pipes, and a humid chill, which no glowing hearth nor bright July\nweather could utterly subdue. Such is the feeling with which the whole\nplace strikes me on this leaden wintry day, when the vapour from the\nengine on the railway trails slowly upward to meet the ragged edge of\nthe dun cloud that streams slowly downward; when a big, black dog\ncrouches on the threshold of the village chandler's shop, to get out of\nthe drizzle; and the butcher, who has sold out, closes his half-hatch,\nwith the certainty that he may take his afternoon nap by the fire,\nundisturbed by customers.\n\nEven when I pause before one of the little narrow portals to which I\nhave been directed, there are few more signs of life, except that at the\nsame moment I hear other footsteps behind me, and a baker stop to\ndeliver a loaf. This is promising, as far as it goes, and enables me to\npresent myself unostentatiously, under cover of the baker's basket, to a\nlady who opens the door. Unless I am greatly mistaken, that lady has a\nFrench face, and as it is a French lady for whom I am to inquire, I\nbegin to think I have come to the end of my quest. It is evident,\nhowever, from the surprised questioning look which greets my appearance,\nthat visits from strangers are not of very frequent occurrence there. I\ncan trace in the rather shrinking recognition accorded to my request to\nsee the lady to whom I bring an introduction, the sensitiveness that\nbelongs to that kind of poverty which has learned to endure in seclusion\nreverses that would be less bearable if they were exposed to a too\nobtrusive expression of sympathy. It is a positive relief to be left\nalone for a minute, standing in that narrow lobby, looking into a room\nwhich has the appearance of a disused scullery, while my errand is made\nknown in another room on the right, to which I am presently bidden. It\nis a poor little place enough; poor, and little, and dim, even for an\nalmshouse, and scarcely suggestive of comfort though a bright fire is\nburning in a grate, which somewhat resembles a reduced kitchen-range,\nand though the table which stands beneath the casement bears some\npreparations for the evening meal, and the cheap luxury of a cut orange\non a plate. The walls are dim, the ceiling cracked and discoloured by\nthe evident overflow of water in the room overhead; the furniture\nconsists of a kind of couch which may do duty for a bed by night, and of\ntwo or three Windsor chairs, one of which has already been placed for\nme. It is a poor place enough; and yet the lady to whom I am at once\nintroduced is ready to do its honours with a grace and dignity that well\nbecome her appearance and her name. Madame Gracieuse B----, for more\nthan forty years resident in England, and speaking English with a purity\nof accent that is only rivalled by the more perfect music of the French\nin which she addresses me, has passed the threescore years and ten which\nare counted as old age. Yet seeing her sweet, calm face; her smooth,\nbroad, intelligent brow; the mild, penetrating scrutiny of her gentle\neyes; the soft hair put back under the quaint French cap, shaped like a\nhood; those years remain uncounted; until, with a pleasant smile, only\njust too placid for vivacity, she tells how she came to this country in\n1830, after the ruin of the fortunes of her house by the revolution\nwhich dethroned Charles X., and made her a governess in England, where\nso many of the old nobility sought a refuge and a home.\n\nBut before this is said, she has presented me to a third lady--to whom,\nindeed, my original introduction extended--already long past the limit\nof that short period which we call long life; for she is more than\neighty years old, and by reason of the infirmity which has lately come\nupon her, does not rise to receive me, but remains seated in the couch\nby the fire. It is a very limited space in which to be ceremonious; but\nwere this lady sitting in one of a suite of grand rooms in some\naristocratic mansion, with all the surroundings to which her birth, her\nhigh connections, and the recollection of her own personal\naccomplishments entitle her, she might not lack the homage which too\noften only simulates respect.\n\nIt is possible that she may long ago have learned to assess it at its\ntrue value, for she has seen it at a court where it could not save a\nking from banishment; and if we may judge from a face with strong\ndetermined lineaments, a brow of concentrated power, and eyes the light\nof which even the recent paralysis of age has not extinguished, she has\nbeen one who could undergo exile, poverty, and even the sadder calamity\nof being forgotten, with a wonderful endurance.\n\nYes, Madame la Comtesse Maria de Comol\u00e9ra, friend and fellow-student of\nthat Madame Adelaide whose name has become historical, when your father\nwas Monsieur l'Intendant of the Duc d'Orl\u00e9ans, and when you lived within\nthe atmosphere of the French court, spending quiet days at the easel in\nyour painting-room, or preparing the delicate _p\u00e2te_ of S\u00e8vres\nporcelain, on which to paint the roses and lilies that you loved, the\ngrim visions of exile and poverty may never have troubled you. When the\nhouse of Bourbon crumbled, and you escaped from the ruin it had made,\nyou had still your art left to solace, if not to gladden you; and for a\ntime at least you lived by it, and took a new rank by the work that you\ncould do. There were flowers in England, and your hands could still\nplace their glowing hues on canvas. Witness those pictures of yours that\nnow hang on the walls of the gallery of the Crystal Palace, or adorn\nsome private collections. Witness, too, the recognition of some of our\nown painters when Sir Charles Eastlake was president of the Royal\nAcademy, and when you found a friendly patron in Queen Adelaide of\ngentle memory. Alas, the hand has lost its cunning; and if its work is\nnot altogether forgotten, those who look upon it are unaware that you\nare living here in this poor room--pensioner of a charity which, were it\nbut supported as it might be, could better lighten your declining years.\nYet I will not call you desolate, madame. Two faithful friends are with\nyou yet. The sunset of your calm life, whereof the noon was broken by so\nterrible a storm, is dim enough; but it goes not down in complete\ndarkness. Gentle and admiring regard survives even in this dull place;\nand with it the love that can bring tears to eyes not over ready to weep\non account of selfish sorrows, and can move ready hands to tend you now\nthat your own grow heavy and feeble.[2]\n\nAs I become more accustomed to the subdued light of the room, I note\nthat amidst the confusion of some old pieces of furniture or lumber\nthere are pictures, unframed and dim, leaning against the walls. One of\nthem--a large painting of some rare plant, formerly a curiosity in the\nBotanical Gardens at Regent's Park, while the rest are groups of flowers\nand fruit. Just opposite me, on the high mantel-piece, the canvas broken\nhere and there near the edges, obscured by the dust and smoke that have\ndulled their surface, are two oil-paintings which I venture to take down\nfor a nearer inspection. Surely they must have been finished when madame\nwas yet in the prime of her art. Exquisite in drawing, delicate in\ncolour, and with a subtle touch that gives to each petal the fresh\ncrumple that bespeaks it newly-blown, and to fruit the dewy down that\nwould make even a _gourmet_ linger ere he pressed the juice. It is\nalmost pain to think that they are left here uncared for; and yet, who\nknows what influence their presence above that dingy shelf may have upon\nthe wandering thoughts and waning dreams of her who painted them when\nevery new effort of her skill was a keen delight?\n\nNay, even as I hold them to the light, and in a pause of our chat\n(wherein Madame la Comtesse speaks slowly and with some difficulty) say\nsome half-involuntary words of appreciation, she has risen, and stands\nupright by the fire with an earnest look in her face and a sudden\ngesture of awakened interest. The artistic instinct is there still,\nafter more than eighty years of life, and the appreciation of the work\nanimates her yet. Not with a mere vulgar love of praise (for Madame is\nstill la Comtesse Comol\u00e9ra even though she spends her days in an\nalmshouse), but with a recognition that I have distinguished the best of\nthe work that is left to her to show. I shall not readily forget the\nsudden look of almost eager interest, the effort to speak generous words\nof thanks, as I bow over her hand to say farewell, and feel that I have\nbeen as privileged a visitor as though madame had received me in a\ngilded _salon_, at the door of which a powdered lacquey stood to\n\"welcome the coming--speed the parting guest.\"\n\nAnd so with some pleasant leave-takings, and not without permission to\nsee them again, I leave these ladies--the fitting representatives of an\nold nobility and an old _r\u00e9gime_--to the solitude to which they have\nretired from a world too ready to forget.\n\nIf by any means for the solitude could be substituted a pleasant\nretirement, and for the sense of desolation and poverty a modest\nprovision that would yet include some grace and lightness to light their\ndeclining days, it would be but little after all.\n\n[1] Since this was written the Almshouses have been closed, and their\ntwo or three remaining inmates \"lodged out.\"\n\n[2] Since these lines were written, Madame Comol\u00e9ra has gone to her rest.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THEM THAT GO DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS._\n\n\nIt is possible that those portions of the sacred history which have\nreference to the association of our Lord Jesus Christ with ships, and\nthe wonderful portions of the great narrative where the Divine Voice\nseems, as it were, to come from the sea, may have a special attraction\nfor us who live in an island and claim a kind of maritime dominion.\n\nSurely the words \"Lord, save me, or I perish,\" and the instant response\nof the outstretched hand of the Saviour of men, must have been read with\nan awful joy by many a God-fearing sailor on the homeward voyage. \"It is\nI, be not afraid,\" must have come with an intensity of meaning to many a\nheart which has known the peril of the storm, wherein the voice of man\nto man has been almost inaudible.\n\nThere is something very solemn in the prayers we send up for those at\nsea. Most of us feel a heart-throb when we lie awake listening to the\nmighty murmurs of the wind, and waiting for the shrill shriek with which\neach long terrible blast gathers up its forces--a throb which comes of\nthe sudden thought of lonely ships far out upon the ocean, where men are\nwrestling with the elements, and looking with clenched lips and\nstraining eyes for the lingering dawn.\n\nYet, with all this, it is a national reproach to us that until a\ncomparatively recent date we have done little or nothing for our\nsailors--little for those who have been ready to maintain the old\nsupremacy of our fleet--almost nothing for that greater navy of the\nmercantile marine to which we are indebted for half the necessaries and\nfor nearly all the luxuries which we enjoy.\n\nA national reproach, because not only have charitable provisions for\ndestitute, sick, infirm, or disabled sailors been neglected, but\nsubscriptions demanded by the State from seamen of the merchant service\nwere never properly applied to relieve the distress of those for whom\nthey were professedly received. Considerably over a million of money has\nbeen contributed by merchant seamen, by deductions of sixpences from\ntheir monthly pay for the maintenance of Greenwich Hospital, and in\naddition to this there have been accumulated in the hands of the\nGovernment the examination fees of masters and mates passing the Board\nof Trade examination, and the penny fees paid by common seamen on\nshipment and unshipment, while the unclaimed wages and effects of seamen\ndying abroad are calculated at about \u00a38000 a year.\n\nNow there can be no doubt that Greenwich Hospital was originally\nintended to include merchant seamen in its provisions, for the preamble\nto the original scheme of William III. recites, \"Whereas the King's most\nexcellent Majesty being anxiously desirous to promote the Trade,\nNavigation, and Naval strength of this Kingdom, and to invite greater\nnumbers of his subjects to betake themselves to the sea, hath determined\nto erect a hospital,\" &c. For this purpose sixpence per man per month\nwas to be paid out of the wages of all mariners to the support of the\nHospital, and every seaman was to be registered. Why? That the charity\nmight be \"for the relief, benefit, or advantage of such the said\nregistered Marines, or Seamen, Watermen, Fishermen, Lightermen,\nBargemen, Keelmen, or Seafaring Men, who by age, wounds, or other\naccidents shall be disabled for future service at sea, and shall not be\nin a condition to maintain themselves comfortably; and the children of\nsuch disabled seamen; and the widows and children of such of them as\nshall happen to be slain, killed, or drowned in sea service, so far\nforth as the Hospital shall be capable to receive them, and the revenue\nthereof will extend.\"\n\nSo far as words went, therefore--and subsequent Acts of Parliament\nconfirmed them--Greenwich Hospital was open to all registered seamen.\nThe fact has always been, however, that it was barely able to meet the\nclaims made by the disabled and infirm sailors of the Navy alone, and\ntherefore the mercantile marine was practically excluded, while the\npayments were still demanded.\n\nNow let us see what past Governments did for the relief of those old,\ninfirm, or disabled men who having \"seen wonders on the great deep,\"\ncame home and sought help.\n\nA charitable trust, called the \"Merchant Seamen's Fund,\" had been\nestablished by merchants and shipowners of the City of London, who gave\nlarge sums to it, in order to try to make up for the injustice by which\nthese sailors were virtually excluded from Greenwich Hospital, to which\nthe men of the mercantile marine still had to pay sixpence a month. By a\nremarkably knowing piece of legislation, an Act was passed (the 20th of\nGeorge II.) which incorporated the Merchant Seamen's Fund, appointed\npresident and governors, and gave authority to purchase land for\nbuilding a hospital, to help pay for which another sixpence a month was\nclaimed from the pay of merchant seamen and masters of merchant vessels.\n\nNot till the year 1834, by an Act passed in the reign of William IV.,\nwere the merchant sailors relieved from compulsory payment to Greenwich.\nThey had contributed to the hospital for 138 years without having\nderived any direct benefit from it; and though they were not unwilling\nto subscribe for their brethren in the Royal Navy, the injustice which\ndemanded their contributions, though their own fund was inadequate to\npay for the promised building for which it was intended, became too\nglaring to be continued. It was therefore determined that a grant of\n\u00a320,000 should be made to Greenwich Hospital out of the Consolidated\nFund, and that the merchant sailors should go on paying their shilling a\nmonth for their own benefit (masters paying two shillings), and that a\nprovision for widows and children should be included in the charity, the\nbenefits of which were to be extended to Scotland and Ireland.\n\nThe hospital never was built. The Board of Trade taking the management\nof the contributions, appointed trustees, who were altogether\nincompetent, and did their duty in a perfunctory or careless manner. In\n1850, only \u00a320,000 was distributed among old, infirm, and disabled\nseamen, while \u00a341,000 was bestowed on widows and children; the\nallowances varying at different ports from \u00a31 to \u00a37, each place having\nits own local government. Of course a collapse came. The fund was\nbankrupt; and in the following year an Act was passed for winding it\nup--for, says the Board of Trade Report, \"the Government has had no\ncontrol over the matter. The London Corporation and the trustees of\noutports could not by any management have prevented the insolvency of\nthe fund, as long as they were guided by the principles which the\nseveral Acts of Parliament laid down ... the whole system was vicious.\"\n\nBy the winding-up Act of 1851 compulsory contributions ceased; but those\nwho chose to continue to subscribe voluntarily might do so. It is hardly\nto be wondered at that the merchant seamen lost confidence in the\npaternal protection of the Board of Trade. A few thousand pounds were\nleft from the compulsory contributions, and when this came to be\ninquired for, nobody knew anything about it. It had somehow slipped out\nof the estimates, and nobody could tell what had become of it.\n\nThat is what past governments have done for poor mercantile Jack.\n\nWhat has the great British public done for him? Not so very much after\nall. The truth is, that the sailor, who has always been spoken of as \"so\ndreadfully improvident,\" has been practically regarded as being most\nself-helpful. All the time that we have been shaking our solemn heads,\nand lifting up our hands at the improvidence, the folly, and the\nextravagance of these frequently underpaid and sometimes overworked men,\nwe have made even the help that we were willing to extend to them in\ntheir deeper necessities partially dependent on their own constant and\nregular subscription to the same end.\n\nPoor improvident Jack!--poor thoughtless, incorrigible fellow!--it was\nnecessary for the Government of his country to look after him, in order\nto protect him against his own want of forethought, and the result has\nbeen to run the ship into shoal water, and go hopelessly to wreck\nwithout so much as salvage money.\n\nJack ashore! Don't we all still look at the sailor in the light of the\nevil war-times, when the king's men were said to draw pocketsful of\nprize-money and to spend it in low debauchery or wild wanton folly? Even\nnow we repeat the stories of frying watches along with beefsteaks and\nonions, or eating bank-note sandwiches. Nay, to this day in the\nfo'c's'le of merchant vessels some of the melancholy old songs in which\nsailors are wont to satirise themselves are occasionally sung, telling\nhow\n\n        \"When his money is all spent,\n  And there's nothing to be borrowed and nothing to be lent,\n  In comes the landlord with a frown,\n  Saying, 'Jack! get up, and let _John_ sit down,\n  For you are _outward_ bound.'\"\n\nThere's a world of meaning in that grim suggestive summary; but, thank\nGod! it has less meaning now than it once had. Until quite lately,\nsailors of merchant ships could be kept for days waiting to be paid,\nand, sickened with lingering for long weary hours about the office of\nthe broker or agent who withheld their money, fell into the hands of the\nharpies who were, and still are constantly on the look-out to plunder\nthem. Men with all the pure natural longing for home and reunion with\nthose near and dear to them, were compelled to loiter about the foul\nneighbourhood of the dock where their ship discharged its cargo, lodging\nin some low haunt with evil company, and liable to every temptation that\nis rife in such places, till too often so large a portion of their\nhardly-earned wages had been forestalled, that in a dreary and desperate\nmadness of dissipation they were tempted to fling away the small balance\nremaining to them, and to awake to reason only when, naked and nearly\ndestitute, they were compelled to go to sea again, with a slender stock\nof clothes, and a week's board and lodging paid for with advance notes.\n\nFrom long confinement and monotony on shipboard, the sailor even now\ncomes to a sense of temporary freedom, giddy with the unaccustomed sense\nof solid ground and the wild toss and uproar of the ocean of life in a\ngreat city. What are still the influences which in many seaports await\nhim directly his foot touches the shore, and sometimes even before he\nhas come over the vessel's side? With a boy's recklessness, a man's\npassions, and the unwonted excitement of possessing money and boundless\nopportunities for spending it, a shoal of landsharks are lying ready to\nbatten on him. The tout, the crimp, and all the wretches, male and\nfemale, who look upon him as their prey, will never leave him from the\ntime when they watch him roll wonderingly on to the landing-stage, till\nthat desperate minute when he flings his last handful of small change\nacross the tavern counter, and calls for its worth in drink, since\n\"money is no use at sea.\"\n\nThis was far more frequently the termination of mercantile Jack's spell\nashore, before the new regulations as to prompt payment of seamen's\nwages came into force. At that time you had only to take a morning walk\nacross Tower Hill, where the bluff lay figure at the outfitter's door\nstands for Jack in full feather, and thence to America Square, or the\nneighbourhood of the Minories and Rosemary Lane, to see dozens of poor\nfellows lounging listlessly about the doors of pay-agents, waiting day\nafter day at the street-corners, with an occasional visit to the\npublic-house, and the perpetual consumption of \"hard\" tobacco. It was\neasy afterwards to follow Jack to Ratcliffe, Rotherhithe, Shadwell, and\nthe neighbourhood, where his \"friends\" lay in wait for him to spend the\nevening; in the tap-rooms of waterside taverns, where he sat hopelessly\ndrinking and smoking during a hot summer's afternoon; to frowsy,\nlow-browed shops of cheap clothiers, to hot, stifling dancing-rooms, to\nskittle-alleys behind gin-shop bars, where a sudden brawl would call out\nknives, and the use of a \"slung-shot\" as a weapon would make a case of\nmanslaughter for the coroner; to very minor theatres, where he could see\nabsurd caricatures of himself in the stage sailors, dancing hornpipes\nunknown at sea; to the dreadful dens of Bluegate Fields and Tiger\nBay--to any or all of these places you might have followed Jack; and may\neven yet follow his fellows who have not yet been redeemed from the evil\nways of those bad times, when there were no homes for sailors amidst the\nbewildering vice and misery of maritime London, and other seaport towns\nof this great mercantile island.\n\nIt so happened that I made my first intimate acquaintance with the one\nreal, publicly representative \"Sailors' Home\" in Well Street, near the\nLondon Docks, after having seen Jack under several of the terrible\nconditions just referred to, so that, with this painful knowledge of him\nand his ways, it was with a kind of delighted surprise that I suddenly\nwalked into the great entrance-hall of the institution, where he and his\nfellows were sitting on the benches by the wall with the serious,\ncontemplative, almost solemn air which is (in my experience) the common\nexpression of sailors ashore, and during ordinary leisure hours. There\nthey were, a good ship's crew of them altogether, sitting, as I have\nalready said, in true sailor fashion--stooping forward, wrists on knees,\nlolling on sea-chests and clothes-bags, taking short fore-and-aft walks\nof six steps and a turn in company with some old messmate, smoking,\ngrowling, chatting, and generally enjoying their liberty; not without an\neye, now and then, to the smart officer who had come in to see whether\nhe could pick up a brisk hand or two for the mail service.\n\nThis was some five or six years ago, and it is a happy result of the\nplan on which the Home was first established (which was intended\nultimately to make the institution self-supporting, if the cost of\nbuilding were defrayed) that the whole scheme has been so enlarged since\nthat time, that anybody who would see what our mercantile seamen are\nlike, may now go and see them, in a largely increasing community, in\nthis great institution. So many come and go and reappear at intervals\nrepresented by the length of their voyages, that 10,120 officers and men\nhad partaken of its inestimable benefits during the year from the first\nof May, 1872, to the end of April, 1873.\n\nBut the institution itself was founded in earnest faith, and built with\nthe labour that is consecrated by prayer. Both to the Home and to its\ncompanion institution, the Refuge for Destitute Seamen--we will pay a\nvisit on our next meeting.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THEM WHO WERE READY TO PERISH._\n\n\nOn the 28th of February, 1828, a very terrible calamity happened in the\nplace known as Wellclose Square, Whitechapel. A new theatre called the\nBrunswick, had been erected there on the site of a former building,\nknown as the Old Royalty. It had been completed in seven months, and\nthree days afterwards, during a rehearsal, the whole structure gave way\nand fell with a crash, burying ten persons amidst the ruins, and\nfearfully injuring several others. Such a catastrophe was very awful,\nand the people of the neighbourhood looked with an almost solemn\ncuriosity at the wreck of an edifice in which they themselves might have\nmet with death suddenly.\n\nVery soon, however, they began to regard the heap of ruins with\nsurprise, for early one morning there appeared two officers of the Royal\nNavy, surrounded by a gang of labourers with picks and shovels, and\nbefore these men (some of whom were Irish Roman Catholic) began to work\nthey listened attentively while one of the officers offered up an\nearnest prayer to God for a blessing on the results of the labour they\nwere about to undertake. Morning after morning their labour was thus\nsanctified, and evening after evening it was celebrated by the voice of\nthanksgiving, till at length the ground was cleared, and on the 10th of\nJune, 1830, the first stone of a new building was laid. The building was\nto be a Home for Sailors, and as a necessary adjunct to the Home, it was\nintended to establish a Destitute Sailors' Asylum.\n\nThe two naval officers were Captain (now Admiral) George C. Gambier, and\nCaptain Robert James Elliot, now gone to his rest, who with Lieutenant\nRobert Justice afterwards Captain, and now with his old comrade, in the\nheavenly haven, had been seeking how to ameliorate the condition of\nseamen, numbers of whom were to be seen homeless, miserable, and\nfrequently half naked and destitute, in that foul and wretched\nneighbourhood about the Docks and beyond Tower Hill.\n\nThe task was a difficult one, and might have daunted less brave and\nhopeful men, for it was intended to demolish the piratical haunts where\nthe enemies of the sailor lay in wait for his destruction; where crimps\nand thieves and the keepers of infamous dens held their besotted victims\nin bondage, while they battened on the wages that had been earned during\nmonths of privation and arduous toil.\n\nIt was necessary, therefore, first to provide a decent and comfortable\nlodging-house for the reception of sailors coming into port,--a place\nwhere they might safely deposit their clothes and their wages, and where\nthey could \"look out for another ship\" without the evil intervention of\ncrimps or pretended agents. It was a part of the intended plan also to\nestablish a savings bank, for securing any portion of their wages which\nthey chose to lay by, or for safely transmitting such sums as they might\nwish to send to their relations. In short, the design was to provide a\nhome for the homeless, and hold out helping hands to those who were\nready to perish.\n\nThose ruins of the theatre stood on the very spot for such an\nestablishment, and the two captains, Gambier and Elliott, began by\nbuying the ground and the wreck that stood upon it, not by asking for\npublic subscriptions, but mostly with their own money, to which was\nadded a few contributions from any of their friends who desired to join\nin the good work.\n\nIt is impossible to use more earnest or touching words than those in\nwhich the late Rear-Admiral Sir W. E. Parry spoke of the labours of his\nfriend and fellow-supporter of the Sailors' Home, in an address to\nBritish seamen at Southampton, in 1853. \"And now,\" he said, \"let me just\nadd that, from the first moment in which Captain Elliot stood among the\nruins of the Brunswick Theatre, till it pleased God to deprive him of\nbodily and mental energy, did that self-denying Christian man devote all\nhis powers, his talents, his influence, and his money, to this his\ndarling object of protecting and providing for the comfort of sailors.\nConnected with a noble family, and entitled by birth, education, and\nstation, to all the advantages which the most exalted society could give\nhm, he willingly relinquished all, took up his abode in a humble\nlodging, surrounded by gin-shops, near the 'Home:' denied himself most\nof the comforts, it may almost be said some of the necessaries of life,\nin order the more effectually to carry out his benevolent design; and\nfor eighteen years of self-denial and devotion, made it the business of\nhis life to superintend this institution.\"\n\nFor the noble officer lived to see the building for which he had wrought\nand prayed, complete and successful. In 1835 300 sailors could be\nreceived and welcomed there. The piratical lairs began to empty of some\nof those who had been shown a way of escape, and the good work went on.\nIn the adjoining Seamen's Church the congregation was largely augmented\nby the boarders from the Sailors' Home, while the Honorary Chaplain and\nthe Missionary attached officially to the institution, became not only\nparson and preacher, but friendly adviser and instructor, ready to\nspeak, to hear, and to forbear. The addition of a book depository, where\nvarious useful publications may be purchased, and Bibles are sold at the\nlowest possible prices, and in various languages, was a valuable\nauxiliary to moral and religious instruction, and at once increased the\nhome-like influences of the place.\n\nThe institution having gone on thus prosperously, under the direction of\na goodly number of officers and gentlemen, added to its possessions by\nacquiring other plots of freehold ground, extending backward to Dock\nStreet; and in 1863 Lord Palmerston laid the stone of an entirely new\nblock of building, which was inaugurated by the Prince of Wales in 1865,\nsince which time 502 boarders can be received, each being provided with\nhis separate cabin.\n\nSince the opening of the institution in 1835 it has received 246,855\nseamen of various countries and from all parts of the world. Of these\n72,234 have been old or returned boarders, and most of them have\nconducted their money transactions through the \"Home,\" and have made\ngood use of the savings-bank.\n\nThere are 270 inmates under that protecting roof as I step into the\nlarge entrance hall in Well Street to-day; and the two hundred and\nseventy-first has just gone to look after his kit and sea-chests, which\nhave been carefully conveyed from the Docks by one of the carmen\nbelonging to the institution, who has \"The Sailors' Home, Well Street,\"\nworked in red worsted on his shirt, and painted on the side of the van\nfrom which he has just alighted.\n\nIt is evident that our friend No. 271 has been here before, for he knows\nexactly where to present himself in order to deposit some of his more\nportable property with the cashier or the superintendent. He scarcely\nlooks like a man who will want an advance of money, for he is a smart,\nalert, bright-eyed fellow, with a quiet air of self-respect about him\nwhich seems to indicate an account in the savings-bank; but should he be\n\"hard-up,\" he can ask for and receive a loan not exceeding twenty\nshillings directly his chest is deposited in his cabin. Just now the\nchest itself, together with its superincumbent bundle, stands against\nthe wall along with some other incoming or outgoing boxes, more than one\nof which are associated with brand new cages for parrots, and some\nodd-shaped cases evidently containing sextants or other nautical\ninstruments. There is a whole ship's crew, and a smart one too, in the\nhall to-day; while a small contingent occupies the clothing department,\nwhere one or two shrewd North-countrymen are being fitted each with a\n\"new rig,\" knowing well enough that they will be better served there\nthan at any of the cheap outfitters (or the dear ones either) in the\nneighbourhood. Fine blue broadcloth, pilots, tweeds, rough weather, and\npetershams are here to choose from \"to measure,\" as well as a wonderful\ncollection of hats, caps, underclothing, hosiery, neckties, boots, and\nshoes so unlike the clumsy specimens that swing along with the tin pots\nand oilskins in some of the little low-browed shops about the district,\nthat I at once discover the reason for the smartness and general\nneatly-fitted look of most of the men and lads now pacing up and down,\ntalking and smoking. It is quiet talk for the most part, even when half\na dozen of the inmates adjourn to the refreshment-room, where they can\nobtain a glass of good sound beer (though there is a much more general\nappreciation of coffee) and sit down comfortably at a table like that at\nwhich two serious mates are already discussing some knotty point, which\nwill probably last till tea-time.\n\nTea-time? There is the half-past five o'clock signal gong going now, and\nlight swift steps are to be heard running up the stairs into the large\ndining-hall, where the two hundred and seventy-one, or as many of them\nas are at home, sit down like fellows who know their business and mean\nto do it. It is a pleasant business enough, and one soon despatched; for\nthere are so many big teapots, that each table is amply provided by the\nalert attendants, who dispense bread-and-butter, watercresses, salads,\nand savoury bloaters and slices of ham and tongue, the latter having\nbeen already served by a carver who is equal to the occasion. It is\nastonishing how quickly the meal is over when its substantial quality is\ntaken into account; but there is no lack of waiters, the number of\nattendants in the building being sixty-five, some of whom, of course,\nbelong to the dormitories and to other departments.\n\nThe meals here are, of course, served with the utmost regularity, and\nwithout limit to quantity. Breakfast, with cold meat, fish, bacon, and\ngeneral \"relishes,\" at eight in the morning; dinner at one: consisting\nof soup, roast and boiled meats, ample supplies of vegetables,\noccasional fish, stupendous fruit-pies and puddings, and a good\nallowance of beer. After tea comes a substantial snack for supper, at\nnine o'clock, and the doors of the institution are kept open to\nhalf-past eleven at night; those who wish to remain out later being\nrequired to obtain a pass from the superintendent.\n\nOf course it is requested that the boarders come in to meals as\npunctually as possible; but those who cannot conveniently be present at\nthe regular time, can have any meal supplied to them on application.\nIndeed, two or three belated ones are arriving now, as we go to the end\nof the long and lofty refectory to look at the crest of the late Admiral\nSir William Bowles, K.C.B., which, supported by flags, is painted upon\nthe wall, as a memorial of a gallant officer and a good friend to this\ninstitution and to all sailors.\n\nLeaving the dining-hall, we notice a smaller room, set apart for masters\nand mates who may desire to have their meals served here; and on the\nsame extensive storey is a large and comfortable reading-room well\nsupplied with periodicals, and containing a capital library consisting\nof entertaining and instructive books.\n\nThe board-room is close by, and is of the size and shape to make an\nexcellent mission-room, where week-night services and meetings of a\nreligious character are held, and well attended by men who, having seen\nthe wonders of the Lord upon the great deep, join in His reasonable\nservice when they are at home and at rest. This vast floor also contains\ntwo dormitories: but most of the sleeping cabins are in the second and\nthird floors.\n\nThere are few sights in London more remarkable than these berths, which\nare, in fact, separate cabins, each closed by its own door, and\ncontaining bed, wash-stand, chair, looking-glass, towels, and ample\nspace for the seachest and personal belongings of the occupant. The\ncabins extend round a large area rising to a great height, and\nsurrounded above by a light gallery reached by an outer staircase, round\nwhich are another series of berths exactly resembling the lower ones; so\nthat there are, in fact, double, and in one or two dormitories treble\ntiers of cabins, and the upper ones may be entered without disturbing\nthe inmates of those below. One of the three-decker areas is of vast\nsize, and, standing in the upper gallery and looking upward to the lofty\nroof, and then downward to the clear, wide, open space between the lower\nrooms, the visitor is struck by the admirable provision both for light\nand ventilation; the former being secured at night by means of properly\ndistributed gas jets, which are of course under the care of the night\nattendants, who are on watch in each dormitory, and may be summoned at\nonce in case of illness or accident.\n\nNot only is there provision against fire by a length of fire-hose\nattached to hydrants on each storey, but the water supply to lavatories\nand for other purposes is secured by a cistern holding 4,000 gallons at\nthe top of the building; so that there is complete circulation\nthroughout the various parts of the building.\n\nIt is time that we paid a visit to the basement of this great\ninstitution, however; for, in more senses than one, it may be said to be\nat the foundation of the arrangements. Yes, even with respect to the\namusements provided for the inmates--for while chess, draughts and\nbackgammon are to be found in the library and reading-room, and\nbilliards and bagatelle hold their own on the great landings of the\nfirst storey, we have down here a skittle-alley of a character so\nremarkable, that some of us who have read Washington Irving think of the\nreverberations of the giants' pastime in the mountains, while we wonder\nwhere sailors can first have acquired a taste for this particular\namusement. It is a good and healthy one, however, and is wisely\nprovided, since it adds one more efficient inducement to the men to take\ntheir pleasure among their true friends instead of seeking it amidst the\nevil influences of a filthy tavern, or in the garish heat of some vile\nRatcliff Highway bowling-alley, where men are maddened with drugged\ndrink, and greeted with foul imprecations by the harpies who seek to rob\nand cheat them.\n\nThere is much to see in this basement, and to begin with here is No. two\nhundred and seventy-one sending his chest up by the great luggage-lift\nto the second floor, where he will find it presently in his cabin. We\ncannot stay to speak to him, however, for we are on the very verge of\nthe kitchen, to which we are, as it were, led by the nose; for wafted\nthence comes an appetising perfume of new bread just taken from one of\nthe great ovens devoted to the daily baking. There are lingering odours\nalso of today's dinner, though the meat ovens and the great boilers and\nhot plates are clean and ready for the morrow. The pantry door, too, is\nopen, and there are toothsome varieties of \"plain-eating\" therein, while\nthe storerooms savour of mingled comforts, to which the gales of Araby\nthe blest offer no parallel, and the butcher's shop has a calm and\nconcentrated sense of meatiness which is suggestive to a robust appetite\nnot already satiated with a chunk from one of a whole squadron of soft,\nnew currant-cakes. After a peep at the large and busy laundry with its\npeculiar moist atmosphere, the coal and beer cellars, the pumping\nmachinery and boiler-room may be passed by, and little curiosity is\nexcited by this long and convenient apartment where hot and cold baths\nare prepared to order at a merely nominal charge. There is a door close\nby, however, where we stop instinctively, for there is a cheerful light\ninside, and a sound of easy and yet interrupted conversation which can\nbelong to only one department of society. There can be no mistake about\nit--a veritable barber's shop, and a gentleman with a preternaturally\nclean chin complacently surveying himself in a looking-glass of limited\ndimensions, while another waits to be operated upon by the skilled\npractitioner who carries in his face the suggestion of a whole ropery of\n\"tough yarns,\" and was--or am I mistaken--tonsor to the _Victory_ or to\nsome ship of war equally famous when the British seaman shaved close and\noften, and pigtails had hardly gone out of fashion. There is no time for\ntesting the great artist's skill this evening, though I could almost\nsacrifice a well-grown beard to hear some rare old fo'c's'le story. But\nno story could be more wonderful than the plain truth that for all the\ngenerous provision in this excellent institution the rescued sailor\nbrought within its wholesome influence pays but fifteen shillings a\nweek. Yes, men and apprentices, fifteen shillings; and officers,\neighteen and sixpence.\n\nThe evening lowers over the outer world of Mint Street and Leman Street,\nand the great blank void of the Tower ditch is full of shadow. Standing\nagain in the large entrance hall, which reminds one more of shipboard,\nnow that the lights are dotted about it, leaving it still a little dim,\nI hear the trickling of a drinking-fountain, and associated with its\nfresh plash hear as pleasant a story as any yarn that ever the barber\nhimself could have spun for my delight.\n\nThe fountain, which is of polished Aberdeen granite, was opened last\nNovember in proper style, a platform being erected, and the chair being\ntaken by the Secretary to the \"Metropolitan Drinking Fountains\nAssociation,\" supported by several ladies and gentlemen. Mr. Lee made an\nappropriate speech, and called attention to the gift, and pointed to the\ninscription; and it was quite an emphatic little observance for the\ninmates who had gathered in the hall on the occasion. And well it might\nbe, for the fountain bears this modest inscription:--\"The gift of\nWilliam McNeil, Seaman, in appreciation of the great benefits he has\nderived on the various occasions during which he has made the\nInstitution his _Home_, for upwards of 25 years.\"\n\nI think very little more need be said for the Sailors' Home than is\nindicated by this plain, earnest testimony to its worth. Yet it is\nnecessary to say one more word. This Sailors' Home is in a way\nself-supporting, and at present seeks only the kindly interest of the\npublic in case it should ever need another response to an appeal for\nextending its sphere of usefulness. Not a farthing of profit is\npermitted to any individual engaged in it, and even fees to servants are\nprohibited, though the crimps and touts outside endeavour to bribe them\nsometimes, to induce sailors to go to the common lodging-houses, where\nland-rats seek their prey. All the profits, if there are any at all, are\nplaced to a reserve fund for repairs, improvements, or extensions. At\nany rate, no public appeals are being made just now.\n\nBut there is another institution next door--another branch of the stem\nwhich has grown so sturdily from the seed planted by the good\ncaptain--the Destitute Sailors' Asylum. That is a place full of\ninterest, though there is nothing to see there. Nothing but a clean\nyard, with means for washing and cleansing, and a purifying oven for\nremoving possible infection from clothes, and a great bare room, just\ncomfortably warmed in winter, and hung with rows of hammocks, like the\n'tween-decks of a ship.\n\nThat is all; but in those hammocks, sometimes, poor starved and\ndestitute sailors go to sleep, after they have been fed with soup and\nwarmed and comforted; and in the morning, when they turn out, they are\nfed again with cocoa and bread, and if they are naked they are clothed.\nThere are not very many applicants, for, strange as it may appear, since\nsailors' homes have come in fashion there are but few destitute seamen;\nbut there _need be no unrelieved destitute sailors at all in London_,\nfor anybody can send such a one to the Asylum in Well Street, London\nDocks, and he will be admitted. Here then, is an institution that may\nclaim support.\n\n\n\n\n_CASTING BREAD UPON THE WATERS._\n\n\nOne of the old Saxon commentators on the Holy Scriptures, in referring\nto the passage, \"Cast thy bread upon the waters, and it shall be found\nafter many days,\" ventures to suggest as a meaning--\"Give succour to\npoor and afflicted seamen.\" Whatever may be the conclusions of critical\nBiblical expositors, there can be no doubt that the pious annotator was\nright in a true--that is, in a spiritual interpretation of the text.\n\nShould it be necessary to appeal twice to the English nation--which has,\nas it were a savour of sea-salt in its very blood--to hold out a helping\nhand for those who, having struggled to keep our dominion by carrying\nthe flag of British commerce all round the world, are themselves flung\nashore, weak, old, and helpless, dependent on the goodwill of their\ncountrymen to take them into some quiet harbour, where they may, as it\nwere be laid up in ordinary and undergo some sort of repairs, even\nthough they should never again be able to go a voyage? It is with\nfeelings of something like regret that an average Englishman sees the\nold hull of a sea-going boat lie neglected and uncared for on the beach.\nNot without a pang can we witness the breaking-up of some stout old ship\nno longer seaworthy. Yet, unhappily, we have hitherto given scant\nattention to the needs of those old and infirm seamen, who having for\nmany years contributed out of their wages to the funds of the Naval\nHospital at Greenwich, and having been again mulcted of some\nsubscriptions which were to have been specially devoted to found an\nasylum for themselves, are left with little to look forward to but the\nworkhouse ward when, crippled, sick, or feeble with age, they could no\nlonger tread the deck or crack a biscuit.\n\nIt is true that there are now hospitals or sick-asylums in connection\nwith some of the sailors' homes at our seaports, and to the general\nhospitals any sailor can be admitted if he should be able to procure a\nletter from a governor. The 'tween-decks of the _Dreadnought_ no longer\nform the sole hospital for invalided merchant seamen in the Port of\nLondon; but even reckoning all that has been done for sailors, and fresh\nfrom a visit to that great building where three hundred hale and hearty\nseamen of the great mercantile navy find a home, we are left to wonder\nthat so little has been accomplished for those old tars who, having\nlived for threescore years or more, going to and fro upon the great\ndeep, can find no certain anchorage, except within the walls of some\nunion where they may at last succeed in claiming a settlement. Surely\nthere is no figure which occupies a more prominent place in English\nhistory than that of the sailor--not the man-o'-war's man only--but the\nmerchant seaman, the descendant of those followers of the great old\nnavigators who were called \"merchant adventurers,\" and who practically\nfounded for Great Britain new empires beyond the sea. In the poetry, the\nsongs, the literature, the political records, the social chronicles, the\ndomestic narratives of England, the sailor holds a place, and even at\nour holiday seasons, when our children cluster on the shingly shore or\nthe far-stretching brown sands of the coast, we find still that we\nbelong to a nation of which the sailor long stood as the chosen\nrepresentative. Nay, in the midst of the life of a great city we cannot\nfail to be reminded of the daring and the enterprise which has helped to\nmake London what it is.\n\nThe poet, who, standing on the bridge at midnight, and listening to the\nchime of the hour, found his imagination occupied with serious images\nand his memory with solemn recollections, would have been no less moved\nto profound contemplation had he been a temporary occupant of one of the\ngreat structures that span the silent highway of the Thames. There is\nsomething in the flow of a broad and rapid stream which has a peculiar\nassociation with thoughts of the struggle and toil of human life, and as\nwe look on the ever-moving tide, we ask ourselves what have we done for\nthe brave old toil-worn men who have seen the wonders of the great deep\nfor so many years, and have brought so much to us that we can scarcely\nspeak of food or drink without some reminder of their toilsome lives and\nlong voyages? Well, a little has been done,--very little when we reflect\nhow much yet remains to be accomplished; and yet much, regarded as a\nfair opportunity for doing a great deal more. I have already recounted\nsome part of the sad story of what a provident Government did when it\nthought to undertake the affairs of poor improvident Jack. How it\ncollected his money, and neglected to give him the benefit of the\nenforced subscription; how it administered and laid claim to his poor\nlittle effects and arrears of pay, if he died abroad and nobody came\nforward to establish a right to them; how it demanded additional\ncontributions from his monthly wages, in order to show him how to\nestablish a relief fund; and how somehow the scheme went \"by the board\"\n(of Trade), and the balance of the money was lost in the gulf of the\nestimates.\n\nAs long ago as 1860 it became clear to a number of leading merchants,\nshipowners, and officers of the mercantile marine that nothing was to be\nlooked for from the State when the subject of making an effort to\nprovide for aged and infirm sailors was again urgently brought forward;\nbut it was determined to make a definite movement, and \"The Shipwrecked\nMariners' Society,\" which had then 40,000 officers and seamen among its\nsubscribers, was appealed to as a body having the power to form the\nrequired association.\n\nIt was not till 1867, however, that the actual work of providing an\nasylum for old sailors was commenced. The society had then put down the\nsum of \u00a35,000 as a good beginning, a committee had been appointed, of\nwhich the late honoured Paymaster Francis Lean was the indefatigable\nhonorary secretary, and Captain Thomas Tribe the secretary, whilst the\nlist of patrons, presidents, vice-presidents, and supporters included\nmany eminent noblemen and gentlemen who took a true interest in the\nundertaking.\n\nSeveral public meetings were held, and \"a Pension and Widows' Fund\" was\nfirst established. Then the committee began to look about them for a\nsuitable house in which to begin their real business, and had their\nattention directed to a large building at that time for sale, situated\non the breezy height above Erith, and formerly well known as the\nresidence of Sir Culling Eardley, who had named it Belvidere. The\nproperty, including twenty-three acres of surrounding land, cost\n\u00a312,148, and \u00a35,000 having already been subscribed, the balance of\n\u00a37,148 was borrowed at five per cent. interest. Not till the 5th of May,\n1866, however, was the institution inaugurated and handed over to a\ncommittee of management.\n\nIt is admirably suggestive of its present occupation, this fine roomy\nold mansion, standing on the sheltered side, but near the top, of the\nlofty eminence, whence such a magnificent view may be obtained, not only\nof the surrounding country, but of the mighty river where it widens and\nrushes towards the sea. Here on the broad sloping green, where the tall\nflagstaff with its rigging supports the Union Jack, the old fellows\nstroll in the sun or look out with a knowing weather-eye towards the\nshipping going down stream, or sit to smoke and gossip on the bench\nbeneath their spreading tree opposite the great cedar, while the cow of\nthe institution chews the cud with a serious look, as though it had\nsomeway caught the thoughtful expression that characterises \"turning a\nquid.\" A hundred infirm sailors, each of whom is more than sixty years\nold, are serenely at their moorings in that spacious square-built house,\nwhere the long wards are divided into cabins, each with its neat\nfurniture, and many of them ornamented with the curious knick-knacks,\nand strange waifs and strays of former voyages which sailors like to\nhave about them. There is of course a sick-ward, where those who are\npermanently disabled, or are suffering from illness, receive medical\nattention and a special diet; but the majority of the inmates are\ncomparatively hearty still, though they are disabled, and can no longer\n\"hand reef and steer.\"\n\nThere are a hundred inmates in this admirable asylum, and ninety\npensioners who are with their friends at the various outports of the\nkingdom, each receiving a pension of \u00a31 a month, called the \"Mariners'\nNational Pension Fund,\" the working management of which, with the\n\"Widows' Annuity Fund,\" is made over to the \"Shipwrecked Mariners'\nSociety.\"\n\nA hundred and ninety worn-out and disabled seamen now provided for or\nassisted, and a total of above 300 relieved since the opening of the\ninstitution. A good and noble work truly. But can it be called by so\ngreat a name as _National_, when we know how large a number of old\nsailors are yet homeless, and that at the last election there were 153\ncandidates who could not be assisted because of the want of funds to\nrelieve their distress? Looking at the number of men (2,000 to 5,000)\nlost at sea or by shipwreck every year, and at the inquiry which has\nbeen made, through the efforts of Mr. Plimsoll and others, with respect\nto the conditions under which the service of the mercantile marine of\nthis country is carried on, is it not a reproach to us that during the\nnineteen years since this institution was founded, so little has been\ndone? Year by year it has been hoped that the Board of Trade would\nrelinquish its claim to take possession of the effects of sailors dying\nabroad, and would transfer the \u00a31,200 a year represented by this\nproperty to the funds of the society, but hitherto the committee have\nwaited in vain. The donations from all sources are comparatively few;\nand though the annual subscriptions are numerous, they are rapidly\nabsorbed.\n\nMany masters, mates, seamen, engineers and firemen pay to this\ninstitution a subscription of five shillings a year, for which they have\na vote at each annual election; or any such subscriber may leave his\nvotes to accumulate for his own benefit when he shall have reached the\nage of sixty years, and becomes a candidate for admission.\n\nOne-fifth of the candidates admitted are nominated by the committee on\nthe ground of their necessities or special claims to the benefit of the\ncharity, while general subscribers or donors have privileges of election\naccording to the amount contributed. Perhaps one of the most touching\nrecords of the subscription list is, that not only did the cadets of the\nmercantile training-ship _Worcester_ contribute something like \u00a3100 in\none official year, but that the little fellows on board the union\ntraining-ship _Goliath_ lying off Grays, have joined their officers and\ntheir commander, Captain Bourchier, to send offerings to the aid of the\nancient mariners, of whom they are the very latest representatives. On\nmany a good ship these small collections are made for the same object,\nand at the Sailors' Home in Well Street there is a box for stray\ncontributions; but much more has yet to be done. Perhaps it is far to go\nto see this great house on the hill, but most of us have caught a\nglimpse of its tall towers and its flagstaff in our excursions down the\nsilent highway of London's river, and it might be well to think how\nlittle effort is required to give to each cabin its inmate, and to fill\nthe dining-room with tables, each with its \"mess\" of six or eight old\nsalts, who are ready to greet you heartily if you pay them a visit, and\nto salute you with a grave seamanlike respect. Would you like to know\nhow this rare old crew lives in the big house under the lee of the\nwind-blown hill? To begin with, the men who are not invalids turn out at\neight in winter and half-past seven in summer, and after making beds and\nhaving a good wash, go down to prayers and breakfast at nine or\nhalf-past eight, breakfast consisting of coffee or cocoa and\nbread-and-butter.\n\nAt ten o'clock the ward-men, who are appointed in rotation, go to clean\nwards and make all tidy, each inmate being, however, responsible for the\nneatness of his own cabin, in which nobody is allowed to drive nails in\nbulkheads or walls, and no cutting or carving of woodwork is permitted.\nThe men not for the time employed in tidying up or airing bedding, &c.,\ncan, if they choose, go into the industrial ward, where they can work at\nseveral occupations for their own profit, as they are only charged for\ncost of materials. Dinner is served in the several messes by the\nappointed messmen at one o'clock, and consists on Sundays of roast beef,\nvegetables, and plum-pudding, and on week-days of roast or boiled meat,\nsoup, vegetables, with one day a week salt fish, onions, potatoes, and\nplain suet-pudding, and in summer an occasional salad. A pint of beer is\nallowed for each man. The afternoon may be devoted either to work, or to\nrecreation in the reading and smoking rooms, or in the grounds. Tea and\nbread-and-butter are served at half-past five in summer and at six in\nwinter, and there is often a supper of bread-and-cheese and watercresses\nor radishes. The evening is devoted to recreation, and at half-past nine\nin winter, and ten in summer, after prayers, lights are put out, and\nevery one retires for the night.\n\nNone of the inmates are expected to work in the industrial wards, and of\ncourse there are various servants and attendants, all of whom are chosen\nby preference from the families of sailors, or have themselves been at\nsea. The whole place is kept so orderly, and everything is so\nship-shape, that there is neither waste nor confusion, and yet every man\nthere is at liberty to go in and out when he pleases, on condition of\nbeing in at meal-times, and at the time for evening prayers, any one\ndesiring to remain away being required to ask permission of the manager.\nIt must be mentioned, too, that there is an allowance of ninepence a\nweek spending money for each inmate.\n\nThe men are comfortably clothed, in a decent sailorly fashion, and many\nof the old fellows have still the bright, alert, active look that\nbelongs to the \"smart hands,\" among whom some of them were reckoned\nnearly half a century ago. The most ancient of these mariners at the\ntime of my first visit was ninety-two years old, and it so happened that\nI saw him on his birthday. He came up the broad flight of stairs to\nspeak to me, with a foot that had not lost all its lightness, while the\neye that was left to him (he had lost one by accident twenty years\nbefore) was as bright and open as a sailor's should be. This is a long\ntime ago, and William Coverdale (that was his name) has probably gone to\nhis rest. Significantly enough, at the time of my latest visit, the\noldest representative of the last muster-roll was James Nelson, a master\nmariner of Downpatrick, eighty-five years of age; while bo's'n Blanchard\nis eighty-one; able seaman John Hall, eighty; William Terry (A. B.),\neighty-two, and masters, mates, quartermasters, cooks, and stewards,\nranged over seventy. With many of them this is the incurable disability\nthat keeps them ashore; the sort of complaint which is common to sailors\nand landsmen alike if they live long enough--that of old age. It will\ncome one day, let us hope, to the young Prince, whom we may regard as\nthe Royal representative of the English liking for the sea. For the\nasylum for old and infirm sailors at Greenhithe has not been called\nBelvidere for some years now. Prince Alfred went to look at it one day,\nand asked leave to become its patron, since which it has been called\n\"The Royal Alfred Aged Merchant Seamen's Institution\"--rather a long\nname, but then it ought to mean so much.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THE FEEBLE AND FAINT-HEARTED._\n\n\nIs there any condition wherein we feel greater need of human help and\ntrue loving sympathy than in the slow, feeble creeping from sickness to\ncomplete convalescence, when the pulse of life beats low, and the\nfailing foot yet lacks power to step across that dim barrier between\nhealth and sickness--not far from the valley of the shadow of death?\n\nIn the bright, glowing summer-tide, when the sun warms bloodless\ncreatures into renewed life, our English sea-coast abounds with\nvisitors, among whom near and dear friends, parents, children, slowly\nand painfully winning their way back to health and strength are the\nobjects of peculiar care. In all our large towns people who have money\nto spend are, at least, beginning to make up their minds where they\nshall take their autumn holiday;--in many quiet health-resorts wealthy\ninvalids, and some who are not wealthy, have already passed the early\nspring and summer;--at a score of pleasant watering-places, where the\ncool sparkling waves break upon the \"ribbed sea-sand,\" troops of\nchildren are already browning in the sun, scores of hearts feel a throb\nof grateful joy as the glow of health begins to touch cheeks lately\npale, and dull eyes brighten under the clear blue sky.\n\nThousands upon thousands are then on their way to that great restorer,\nthe sea, if it be only for a few hours by excursion train. England might\nseem to have gathered all its children at its borders, and very soon we\nhear how empty London is, while a new excuse for a holiday will be that\nthere is \"nothing doing\" and \"nobody is in town.\" And yet throughout the\nbusy streets a throng continues to hurry onward in restless activity.\nOnly well-accustomed observers could see any considerable difference in\nthe great thoroughfares of London. Shops and factories look busy enough,\nand if nothing is doing, there is a mighty pretence of work, while the\nnobodies are a formidable portion of the population when regarded in the\naggregate.\n\nEarly in August the census of our large towns still further diminishes.\nProsperous tradesmen, noting the decrease of customers, begin to prepare\nto take part in the general exodus. \"Gentlefolks\" have concluded\nbargains for furnished houses on the coast and put their dining and\ndrawing-rooms into brown holland. In West-End streets and squares the\nfront blinds are drawn, and all inquiries are answered from the areas,\nwhere charwomen supplement the duties of servants on board wages.\n\"London is empty,\" the newspapers say, and in every large town in the\nkingdom the great outgoing leaves whole districts comparatively\nuntenanted. Yet what a vast population remains; what a great army of\ntoiling men and women who go about their daily work, and keep up the\nunceasing buzz of the industrial hive. What troops of children, who,\nexcept for Sunday-school treats, would scarcely spend a day amidst green\nfields, or learn how to make a daisy-chain, or hear the soft summer wind\nrustling the leaves of overhanging trees.\n\nIt would perhaps astonish us if we could have set down for us in plain\nfigures how many men and women in England have never seen the sea; how\nmany people have never spent a week away from home, or had a real long\nholiday in all their lives. It may be happy for them if they are not\ncompelled by sudden sickness or accident, to fall out of the ranks, and\nto leave the plough sticking in the furrow. It is not all for pleasure\nand careless enjoyment that the thousands of our wealthy brethren and\nsisters go to the terraced houses, or handsomely appointed mansions,\nwhich await them all round the English shore. Into how many eyes tears\nmust need spring, when the prayers for all who are in sorrow, need, or\nadversity are read in seaside churches on a summer's Sunday. By what\nsick-beds, and couches set at windows whence wistful eyes may look out\nupon the changeful glory of wood and sea and sky, anxious hearts are\nthrobbing. What silent tears and low murmuring cries on behalf of dear\nones on whose pale cheeks the July roses never more may bloom, mark the\nwatches of the silent night, when the waves sob wakefully upon the\nbeach. What thrills of hope and joy contend with obtrusive fears as, the\ngolden spears of dawn break through the impenetrable slate-blue sky, and\na touch of strength and healing is seen to have left its mark upon a\nbrow on which the morning kiss is pressed with a keen throb that is\nitself almost a pang.\n\nThe first faltering footsteps back to life after a long illness or a\nsevere shock, how they need careful guidance. Let the stronger arm, the\nhelping hand, the encouraging eye be ready, or they may fail before the\ngoal of safety be reached.\n\n\"All that is now wanted is strength, careful nursing, plenty of\nnourishment, pure air--the seaside if possible, and perhaps the south\ncoast would be best.\" Welcome tidings, even though they herald slow\nrecovery, inch by inch and day by day, while watchful patience measures\nout the time by meat and drink, and the money that will buy the means of\ncomfort or of pleasure, becomes but golden sand running through the\nhour-glass, which marks each happy change.\n\nYes; but what of the poor and feeble, the faint-hearted who, having\nneither oil nor wine, nor the twopence wherewith to pay for lodging at\nthe inn, must need lie there by the way-side, if no hand is stretched\nout to help them?\n\nWhile at those famous health-resorts, the names of which are to be read\nat every railway station, and in the advertisement sheets of every\nnewspaper, hundreds and thousands are coming back from weakness to\nstrength, there are hundreds and thousands still who are discharged from\nour great metropolitan hospitals, to creep to rooms in dim, close courts\nand alleys, where all the tending care that can be given them must be\nsnatched from the hours of labour necessary to buy medicine and food.\nHow many a poor sorrowing soul has said with a sigh, \"Oh! if I could\nonly send you to the sea-side. The doctors all say fresh air's the great\nthing; but what's the use? they say the same of pure milk and meat and\nwine.\"\n\nIt may be the father who has met with an accident, and cannot get over\nthe shock of a surgical operation--or rheumatic fever may have left\nmother, son, or daughter in that terrible condition of utter\nprostration, when it seems as though we were in momentary danger of\nfloating away into a fainting unconsciousness, which not being oblivion,\nengages us in a struggle beyond our waking powers.\n\nAlas! in the great summer excursion to the coast these poor fainting\nbrethren and sisters are too seldom remembered. Here and there a\nbuilding is pointed out as an infirmary, a sea-side hospital, or even as\na retreat for convalescents, but the latter institutions are so few, and\nthe best of them are so inadequately supported, that they have never yet\nbeen able to prove by startling figures the great benefits which they\nconfer upon those who are received within their walls.\n\nOne of the oldest of these truly beneficent Institutions, \"The Sea-side\nConvalescent Hospital at Seaford,\" has just completed a new, plain, but\ncommodious building, not far from the still plainer House which has for\nmany years been the Home of its grateful patients. So let us pay a visit\nto the old place just before its inmates are transferred to more ample\nquarters, to provide for which new subscriptions are needed, and fresh\nefforts are being made. The visit will show us how, in an unpretentious\nway, and without costly appliances, such a charitable effort may be\nworthily maintained.\n\nCuriously enough, Seaford itself is an illustration of declension from\nstrength to weakness, and of the early stages of recovery; for though it\nis one of the famous Cinque Ports, it has for nearly 200 years been an\nunnoted retreat.\n\nBut it is still a place of old, odd customs, such as the election of the\nchief of the municipality at an assembly of freemen at a certain\ngate-post in the town, to which they are marshalled by an officer\nbearing a mace surmounted with the arms of Queen Elizabeth. It is\nfamous, too, for Roman and other antiquities, and its queer little\nchurch dedicated to St. Leonard, has some rare specimens of quaint\ncarving and a peal of bells which are peculiarly musical, while the\nsounding of the complines on a still summer's night is good to hear. In\nfact, for a mere cluster of houses forming an unpretentious and secluded\ntown, almost without shops to attract attention, with scarcely the\nsuspicion of a high street, and destitute of a grand hotel, Seaford is\nremarkably interesting for its legendary lore, as a good many people\nknow, who have discovered its greatest attraction, and take lodgings at\nthe dull little place, where even the martello tower is deserted. The\nchief recommendation of the place, however, is its healthfulness, and\nthe grand air which blows off the sea to the broad stretch of shingly\nbeach, and the range of cliff and down-land which stretches as far as\nBeachy Head, and rises just outside the town into one or two bluffs,\nabout which the sea-gulls whirl and scream, as the evening sun dips into\nthe sparkling blue of the water. It is just at the foot of the boldest\nof these ascents that we see an old-fashioned mansion, once known as\nCorsica Hall, but now more distinctly associated with the name of the\nConvalescent Hospital, of which it has long been the temporary home, the\nLondon offices of the charity being at No. 8, Charing Cross, London.\n\nThe institution, which was founded in 1860, has for its president the\nArchbishop of Canterbury, and for its patronesses the Duchess of\nCambridge and the Duchess of Teck, and it has done its quiet work\nefficiently and well, under difficulties which must have required\nstaunch interest on the part of its committee.\n\nIt is difficult at first to understand that the big many-roomed house\njust by the spur of the cliff, and peeping out to see over the shingle\nridge, is in any sense a hospital; but here is a convalescent who will\ngive us a very fair idea of the work that is being done; a tall fellow\nwho is but just recovering from acute rheumatism, and is now able to go\nabout slowly but with a cheery, hopeful look in his face. Presently, as\none comes near the front door, a lad, who having come from a hospital\nwhere he has been attended for fractured ancle, has been sent here to\nrecover strength, is hobbling across a poultry-yard, where a grand\ncompany of black Spanish, Polish, Cochin China, and other fowls are\nassembled to be fed, and beneath a pent-house roof in this same yard, on\na bench, which would be well replaced by a more comfortable garden-seat\nif the funds would allow, there is a sheltered and comfortable corner\nfor the afternoon indulgence of a whiff of tobacco. Twenty-five men and\ntwenty-four women are all the inmates, besides attendants, for whom\nspace can be found; and an inspection of the airy and scrupulously clean\ndormitories, or rather bedrooms, on each side of the building, will show\nthat all the accommodation has been made available. It must be\nremembered, however, that as the period of each inmate's stay is but a\nmonth of twenty-eight days, fresh cases are constantly admitted during\nall the summer months; so that though as late as at the end of March\nonly fourteen men and six women were distributed in the wards, the\naverage number admitted during the last official year has been 511 (an\nincrease of twenty-four over the year before), while the total number of\ncases received since the opening of the institution amounts to nearly\n5,000.\n\nThere are evidences that in this old house, with its long passages, and\nlittle supplementary stairs leading to the bedrooms, economy has been\nstudied, and yet all that can be done to adapt the place to its purpose\nhas been effected. The sense of fresh air and cleanliness is the first\nnoticeable characteristic. There are no slovenly corners; in\nsitting-rooms, corridors, or dormitories, whether the latter be little\nrooms with only two or three beds, or either of the large apartments,\nwith their wide bay-windows looking forth upon the sea. Plainly and even\nsparely furnished, they have an appearance of homelike comfort, and it\nis pleasant to note that in the larger bright cheerful room devoted to\nwomen patients there are evidences of feminine taste and womanly\nbelongings, even to the egg-cups holding little posies of wild flowers\nand common garden blooms that deck the broad mantelshelf in front of the\ntoilet glasses. The same home-like influences are to be observed in\nother departments, and though this old country house--of which the\ninstitution holds only a short term as tenants--is not altogether suited\nfor the purpose to which it has been applied, the arrangements are not\nwithout a certain pleasant departure from the too formal and mechanical\nroutine which is observed in some establishments to have a peculiarly\ndepressing influence on the sick.\n\nThe kitchen is like that of some good-sized farm-house, with brick\nfloor, an ample \"dresser,\" and a big range, flanked with its pair of\novens, and just now redolent of the steam of juicy South-down mutton and\nfresh vegetables about to be served for the patients' dinners.\n\nIt is a property of the Seaford air to make even persons with delicate\nappetites ready for three plain meals a day, with a meat supper to\nfollow, and the convalescents are no exception to the rule. Tea and\nbread-and-butter for breakfast, bread-and-cheese and ale for the men,\nand cake and ale for the women as a snack in the way of lunch, good\nroast meat and vegetables for dinner, with occasional pies or puddings,\nwith another half-pint of ale; tea as usual; and a supper consisting of\na slice of meat, bread, and another draught of beer--this is the most\nordinary diet; but in many cases milk is substituted for ale, and there\nis also a morning draught of milk, or rum-and-milk, a lunch or supper of\nfarinaceous food, and wine or special diet, according to the orders of\nthe house surgeon, who visits the patients daily, or as often as may be\nrequired. Following the odour of the roast mutton, we see the male\npatients preparing to sit down to dinner in a good-sized room, where, to\njudge from the pleased and grateful faces of men and lads, they are\nquite ready to do justice to the repast. Barely furnished, and with\ntable appointments of the plainest kind, the dining-room is not\nindicative of luxury; but the sauce of hunger is not wanting, and as we\nbow our leave-taking, there are signs that the money spent at this\nSeaford Hospital is well represented by the wholesome but expensive\nmedicine of pure food and drink in ample quantities, prescribed under\nconditions which build up the strength, and restore life to the\nenfeebled frames of those to whom a month of such living must be an era\nin their history.\n\nThe women's dining-room is, I am glad to see, more ornamental than that\nof the men. The walls are bright with gay paper, containing large and\nbrilliantly coloured scenery, while the wide windows look seaward, and\nfill the large room with cheerful light.\n\nThis is all the more essential as there is no other sitting-room for the\nfemale patients, and the more convenient furniture, especially a low\nwooden couch covered with a mattress, is adapted to the needs of those\nwho require indoor recreation as well as frequent rest. The men have a\nseparate sitting-room in the basement, not a very cheerful apartment,\nbut one which in the warm summer-time is cool, and adapted for the\nafter-dinner doze, or for reading a book when the weather is not quite\nfavourable for sitting out of doors.\n\nThere is, by the bye, a very decided need of entertaining and pleasant\nbooks for the patients' library at Seaford, the few which are on the two\nor three shelves being mostly old, and of a particularly dreary pattern.\nIt is obvious that, in an institution where, in order to meet the\nconstant needs of those who seek its aid, every shilling must be\ncarefully expended, only a small sum can be devoted to literature; but\nit may only have to be made known that the convalescents really need a\nfew cheerful volumes to help them along the road from sickness to\nhealth, and out of the abundance of some teeming library the goodwill\noffering may be made.\n\nIt is time that we--that is to say, the kindly and judicious secretary,\nMr. Horace Green, the examining physician, Dr. Lomas, and the present\nwriter--should yield to the influences of the grand appetising climate\nof this airy nook of the English coast, and after a short turn into the\npoultry-yard, a glance at the deliberate cow, and a passing greeting to\nthe great black cat with collar and bell and a mew that is almost a deep\nbass roar, and to the most exacting, ugly, and voracious pet dog it was\never my lot to encounter--we accept the invitation to test the quality\nof the Southdown mutton and other Seaford fare, with a following of that\ndelicately boiled rice and jam to which the healthy palate returns with\nchildlike appreciation.\n\nOn hospitable thoughts intent, the bright and active lady who is\nsuperintendent matron of the hospital, has for the time adopted us into\nher hungry family, and with the knowledge of the effects of the breeze\nblowing over that high bluff, and curling the waves along the shingle\nridge, has set out a repast in her own pleasant parlour, where she does\nthe honours of the institution with a simple cheerful grace that speaks\nfavourably for the administration which she represents. But I should now\nbe writing in the past tense, for the larger building is completed. The\ninmates will have a better appointed home.\n\nIn order to maintain the objects of the charity, and to ensure the\ncomfort of those for whom its provisions are intended, some\nwell-considered regulations have to be adopted and enforced; and the\nmost discouraging circumstances with which the committee and their\nofficers have to contend, are those which arise from the negligence of\nsubscribers nominating patients, or from the demands made on the charity\nby those who constantly expect more benefits from the institution than\ntheir contributions would represent even if they were paid three times\nover.\n\nIt is, perhaps, not to be wondered at that people, anxious to secure for\ntheir prot\u00e9g\u00e9s the advantages of such means of recovery as are\nrepresented by a temporary hospital where there has only been one death\nin five years, should readily contribute their guinea for the sake of\ngaining the privilege, even though they may add to that small\nsubscription the five shillings a week which is the sum required with\neach patient. What has to be complained of, however, is that constant\nattempts are made to introduce cases which are so far from being\nconvalescent, that they are still suffering from disease, and require\nconstant medical or surgical treatment. In order to do this, nominations\nare frequently obtained from country subscribers, and it has required\nthe constant vigilance of the examining physician and the committee to\navoid the distressing necessity of obtaining for such patients admission\nto other hospitals, or sending them back to their own homes, not only\nwithout having received benefit from the institution, but perhaps\ninjured by the journey to and fro when they were in a weak and suffering\ncondition.\n\nIt should be remembered that the Seaford Hospital is not for the sick,\nbut for persons recovering from sickness,--those for whom the best\nmedicines are regular and ample meals, grand bracing air, sea-baths,\nlong hours of quiet and restorative sleep, and that general direction of\ntheir daily progress towards complete recovery, which will often make\nthem strong and set them up completely, even in the twenty-eight days of\ntheir sea-side sojourn.\n\nTo send patients who require the medical care and attendance which can\nonly be provided in a hospital for the special disorders from which they\nsuffer, or who are afflicted with incurable diseases, is unjust, both to\nthe poor creatures themselves and to the charity which cannot receive\nthem.\n\nFor consumptive patients, except in the early or threatening stage of\nphthisis, Seaford is unsuitable, but a month at the hospital for\npatients of consumptive tendency has been known to produce remarkably\nbeneficial results. It is in cases of recovery after rheumatism and\nrheumatic fever, or when strength is required after painful or\nexhausting surgical operations, in nervous depression, debility,\npleurisy, and recovery from accidents, that the fine air is found to be\nwonderfully invigorating; for Seaford is high and dry, the subsoil being\nsand resting on chalk, so that there is little surface evaporation,\nwhile the shelter afforded by Beachy Head screens this little bay of the\ncoast from the east wind.\n\nIt is not to be wondered at that the Archbishop of Canterbury, the\nBishop of London, and the late Bishop of Winchester should have joined\nmany of the London clergy, and more than eighty of the most eminent\nphysicians and surgeons connected with metropolitan hospitals, to\nrecommend this charity as one especially deserving of public support.\nThose who are ever so superficially acquainted with the homes and\ndifficulties of the poorer classes in London know that the period of\ndebility after sickness, when the general hospital has discharged the\npatient, or when the parish doctor has taken his leave, is a terrible\ntime. Too weak to work, without means to buy even common nourishment at\nthe crisis when plentiful food is requisite, and stimulated to try to\nlabour when the heart has only just strength to beat, men and women are\nready to faint and to perish unless helping hands be held out to them.\nTry to imagine some poor cabman or omnibus-driver, lying weak and\nhelpless after coming from a hospital; think of the domestic servant,\nwhose small savings have all been spent in the endeavour to get well\nenough to take another place; of the poor little wistful, eager-eyed\nerrand-boy, scantily fed, and with shaking limbs, that will not carry\nhim fast enough about the streets. Try to realise what a boon it must be\nto a letter-carrier, slowly recovering from the illness by which he has\nbeen smitten down, or to the London waiter, worn and debilitated by long\nhours of wearying attendance to his duties, to have a month of rest and,\nre-invigoration at a place like this. In the table of inmates during the\nlast few years are to be found a host of domestic servants, mechanics\nand apprentices, warehousemen and labourers, 36 housewives (there is\nmuch significance in that word, if we think of the poor wife or mother\nto be restored to her husband and children), 46 needlewomen, 19 clerks,\n15 teachers (mark that) 41 school-children, 9 nurses, 1 policeman, 3\nseamen and watermen, 1 letter-carrier, 4 errand-boys, 7 Scripture-readers,\nand others of various occupations.\n\nIt is no wonder, I say, that the general hospitals should regard this\nConvalescent Home at Seaford as a boon; but, unfortunately for the\ncharity, the appreciation which it receives from some of those wealthy\nand magnificently-endowed institutions operates as a very serious drain\non its own limited resources, which are only supplied by voluntary\nsubscriptions, contributions, and legacies. Every subscriber of a guinea\nannually, and every donor of ten guineas in one sum, has the privilege\nof recommending one patient yearly, with an additional recommendation\nfor every additional subscription of one guinea, or donation of ten\nguineas. The payment of five shillings a week by each patient admitted\nis also required by the guarantee of a householder written on the\nnomination paper, and the travelling expenses of the patient must also\nbe paid, the Brighton Railway Company most benevolently conveying\npatients to the hospital by their quick morning train, in second-class\ncarriages at third-class fare.\n\nNow it is quite obvious that the five shillings a week, though it\nremoves the institution from the position of an absolute charity, goes\nbut a very short distance in providing for the needs of the inmates, and\nwhen the guinea contribution is added to it, there is still a very wide\nmargin to fill before much good can be effected. Let us see, then, what\nis the effect of every subscription of a guinea representing a claim, as\nin the case of the patients sent from the general hospitals.\n\nThe cost of those admirable medicines, food and drink, wine, milk, and\nsea-baths, together with the expenses of administration, and the rental\nwill represent at least \u00a34 8s. per head for each patient, and as Guy's,\nBartholomew's, St. Thomas's, and the London Hospitals, each subscribing\ntheir ten guineas annually, demand their ten nominations in exchange,\nthe account stands thus:--\n\nFor each case, five shillings per week for four weeks, and one guinea\nsubscription = \u00a32 1_s._, which, deducted from the actual cost (\u00a34\n8_s._), leaves \u00a32 7_s._ to be paid out of the funds of the Seaford\nInstitution, which, on ten patients a year, represents \u00a323 10_s._ as the\nannual contribution of this poor little charity to each of the four\ngreat charitable foundations of the metropolis.\n\nBut there is now an opportunity for acknowledging this obligation, and\nfor recognizing the useful career of this really admirable institution.\nThe lease of the present house has already expired, and the committee\nhave been obliged to give up possession. It is therefore necessary to\nsupport the new hospital for those who need the aid that such a charity\nalone can give, and the building has already been erected, only a few\nyards further in the shelter of the bluff, where it has provided another\nhome. With a commendable anxiety to keep strictly within their probable\nmeans, the committee have decided not to imitate a too frequent mode of\nproceeding, by which a large and splendid edifice would saddle their\nundertaking with a heavy debt, and perhaps cripple resources needed for\ncarrying on their actual work; but they have obtained from Mr. Gr\u00fcning,\nthe architect, a plain building which will provide for their needs for\nsome time to come, and may be hereafter increased in accommodation by\nadditions that will improve, rather than detract from, its completeness.\nA great establishment, with a hundred beds, laundries, drying-houses,\nand hot and cold sea-baths on the premises, would cost \u00a313,000; and as\nthe actually available funds in hand for building purposes were not more\nthan \u00a35,000, with another probable \u00a31,000 added by special donations\nexpected during the year, the committee, however reluctantly, folded up\nthe original plan, and estimated the cost of a plain unpretentious\nbuilding, calculated at first to receive thirty-three male and\nthirty-three female patients, but capable of additions which will raise\nits usefulness and completeness to the higher demand, whenever there are\nfunds sufficient to pay for them. The expenditure for the new hospital\nwas about \u00a37000, and, should the anticipated donations be increased\nfourfold, there will be no difficulty in crowning the work, by such\nprovisions as will include the full number of a hundred faint and\nfailing men and women within the retreat where they find rest and\nhealing.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THE LITTLE ONES._\n\n\nYes, and amidst the mystery of suffering and pain,--the beginning of\nthat discipline which commences very early, and continues, for many of\nus, during a whole lifetime, at such intervals as may be necessary for\nthe consummation which we can only faintly discern when we begin to see\nthat which is invisible to the eyes of flesh and of human understanding,\nand is revealed only to the higher reason--the essential perception\nwhich is called faith.\n\nI want you to come with me to that eastern district of the great city\nwhich has for so long a time been associated with accounts of distress,\nof precarious earnings, homes without food or fire, scanty clothing,\ndilapidated houses, dire poverty and the diseases that come of cold and\nstarvation. The place that I shall take you to is quite close to the\nStepney Station of the North London Railway. The district is known as\nRatcliff; the streets down which we shall pass are strangely destitute\nof any but small shops, where a front \"parlour\" window contains small\nstocks of chandlery or of general cheap odds and ends. The doorways of\nthe houses are mostly open, and are occupied by women and children, of\nso poor and neglected an appearance, that we need no longer wonder at\nthe constant demands made upon the institution which we are about to\nvisit. Just here the neighbourhood seems to have come to a dreary\ntermination at the brink of the river, and to be only kept from slipping\ninto the dark current by two or three big sheds and wharves, belonging\nto mast, rope, and block-makers, or others connected with that shipping\ninterest the yards of which are, many of them, deserted, no longer\nresounding to the noise of hammers. The black spars and yards of vessels\nalongside seem almost to project into the roadway as we turn the corner\nand stand in front of a building, scarcely to be distinguished from its\nneighbours, except for the plain inscription on its front, \"East London\nHospital for Children and Dispensary for Women,\" and for a rather more\nrecent appearance of having had the woodwork painted. But for this there\nwould be little more to attract attention than might be seen in any of\nthe sail-makers' dwellings, stores, and lofts in the district; and, in\nfact, the place itself is--or rather was--a sail-maker's warehouse, with\ntrap-doors in the rough and foot-worn floors, steep and narrow stairs,\nbulks and baulks of timber here and there in the heavy ceilings and\nawkward corners, not easily turned to account in any other business.\nSome of these inconveniences have been remedied, and the trap-doors as\nwell as the awkwardest of the corners and the bulks have been either\nremoved or adapted to present purposes, for the business is to provide a\nhome and careful nursing for sick children, and the long rooms of the\nupper storeys are turned into wards, wherein stand rows of Lilliputian\niron bedsteads, or tiny cribs, where forty boys and girls, some of them\nnot only babes but sucklings, form the present contingent of the hundred\nand sixty little ones who have been treated during the year. Not a very\ndesirable-looking residence you will say, but there are a good many\ninmates after all; and the scrupulous cleanliness of the place, as seen\nfrom the very passage, is an earnest of that plan of making the best of\nthings which has always been characteristic of this hospital at Ratcliff\nCross. Some eight or nine grownup folks, and from thirty to forty\nchildren, make a bright, cheerful home (apart from the suffering and\ndeath which are inseparable from such a place) in that old sail-maker's\nwarehouse, if brightness and cheerfulness are the accompaniments of good\nand loving work, as I thoroughly believe they are.\n\nIt was during the terrible visitation of cholera, nearly twelve years\nago, that this work of mercy was initiated, and the manner of its\nfoundation has about it something so pathetic that it is fitting the\nstory should be known, especially as the earnest, hopeful effort with\nwhich the enterprise began seems to have characterised it to the present\nday. Among the medical men who went about in the neighbourhood of Poplar\nand Ratcliff during the epidemic, was Mr. Heckford, a young surgeon,\nwho, having recently come from India, was attached to the London\nHospital, and who took a constant and active part in the professional\nduties he had undertaken. In that arduous work, he, as well as others,\nreceived valuable and indeed untiring aid from the ready skill and\nthoughtful care of a few ladies, who, having qualified themselves as\nnurses, devoted themselves to the labour of love amongst the poor. To\none of this charitable sisterhood, who had been his frequent helper in\nthe time of difficulty and danger, the young surgeon became attracted by\nthe force of a sympathy that continued after the plague was stayed in\nthe district to which they had given so much care, and when they had\ntime to think of themselves and of each other. They went away together a\nquietly married couple; both having one special aim and object in\nrelation to the beneficent career upon which they had entered in\ncompany. Knowing from hardly-earned experience the dire need of the\ndistrict, they at once began to consider what they could do to alleviate\nthe sufferings of the women and children, so many of whom were sick and\nlanguishing, in hunger and pain, amidst conditions which forbade their\nrecovery. If only they could make a beginning, and do something towards\narresting the ravages of those diseases that wait on famine and lurk in\nfoul and f\u0153tid alleys;--if they could establish a dispensary where\nwomen--mothers too poor to pay a doctor--could have medicine and careful\nencouragement; if they could find a place where, beginning with a small\nfamily of say half a dozen, they might take a tiny group of infants to\ntheir home, and so set up a centre of beneficent action, a protest\nagainst the neglect, the indifference, and the preventable misery for\nwhich that whole neighbourhood had so long had an evil distinction.\n\nThe question was, how to make a beginning: but the young doctor and his\nwife had been so accustomed to the work of taking help to the very doors\nof those who needed it, that all they wanted was to find a place in the\nmidst of that down-east district where they could themselves live and\nwork. Out of their own means they bought the only available premises for\ntheir purpose--a rough, dilapidated, but substantial, and above all, a\nventilable sail-loft with its adjacent house and store-rooms, and there\nthey quietly established themselves as residents, with ten little beds,\nholding ten poor little patients supported by themselves, in the hope\nthat voluntary aid from some of the benevolent persons who knew what was\nthe sore need of the neighbourhood would enable them in time to add\ntwenty or thirty more, when the big upper storeys should be cleansed and\nmended and made into wards. That hope was not long in being realised,\nand on the 28th of January, 1868, after a determined effort to maintain\nthe institution and to devote themselves to its service, a regular\ncommittee was formed and commenced its undertakings, the founders still\nremaining and working with unselfish zeal. From twenty to thirty little\nones were received from out that teeming district, where a large\nhospital with ten times the number of beds would not be adequate to the\nneeds of the infant population, the mothers of which have to work to\nearn the scanty wages which in many cases alone keep them from absolute\nstarvation. The struggle to maintain the wards in the old sail-lofts was\nall the harder, from the knowledge that in at least half the number of\ncases where admission was necessarily refused, from want of space and\nwant of funds, the little applicants were sent away to die, or to become\nhelpless invalids or confirmed cripples, not less from the effects of\ndestitution--the want of food and clothing--than from the nature of the\ndiseases from which they were suffering.\n\nThe young doctor and his wife dwelt there, and with cultivated tastes\nand accomplishments submitted to all the inconveniences of a small room\nor two, from which they were almost ousted by the increasing need for\nspace. With a bright and cheerful alacrity they adapted those very\ntastes and accomplishments to supplement professional skill and tender\nassiduous care: the lady--herself in such delicate health that her\nhusband feared for her life, and friends anxiously advised her to seek\nrest and change--used books and music to cheer the noble work, and\nalways had a picture on her easel, with which to hide the awkward bulges\nand projections, or to decorate the bare walls and brighten them with\nlight and colour.\n\nIt was at Christmas-tide seven years ago that I first visited the\nhospital, and there were then very pleasant evidences of the season to\nbe discovered in all kinds of festive ornament in the long wards, and\nespecially in the smaller rooms, where this loving woman had attracted\nother loving women around her, as nurses to the suffering little ones;\nand was there and then engaged in the superintendence of a glorious\nChristmas-tree. But the time came when the hoped-for support having\narrived, Mr. and Mrs. Heckford felt that they could leave the family of\nforty children to the care of those who had taken up the work with\nheartfelt sympathy. They had laboured worthily and well, but, alas!--the\nreward came late--late at least for him, who had been anxious to take\nhis wife away to some warmer climate, in an endeavour to restore the\nstrength that had been spent in the long effort to rear a permanent\nrefuge for sick children in that dense neighbourhood. It was he who\nstood nearest to shadow-land,--he who was soonest to enter into the\nlight and the rest that lay beyond. Mr. Heckford died, I believe, at\nMargate, after a short period of leisure and travel, which his wife\nshared with him. His picture, presented by her to the charity which they\nboth founded, is to be seen in the boys' ward. Another portrait of\nhim--a portrait in words written by the late Mr. Charles Dickens, who\nvisited and pathetically described the children and their hospital in\nDecember, 1868, conveys the real likeness of the man.\n\n\"An affecting play was acted in Paris years ago, called the Children's\nDoctor. As I parted from my Children's Doctor now in question, I saw in\nhis easy black necktie, in his loose-buttoned black frock-coat, in his\npensive face, in the flow of his dark hair, in his eyelashes, in the\nvery turn of his moustache, the exact realisation of the Paris artist's\nideal as it was presented on the stage. But no romancer that I know of\nhas had the boldness to prefigure the life and home of this young\nhusband and wife, in the Children's Hospital in the East of London.\"\n\nWhat the hospital was then, it has remained--but with such improvements\nas increased funds and a more complete organisation have effected. It is\nstill the ark of refuge for those little ones who, smitten with sudden\ndisease, or slowly fading before the baleful breath of famine or of\nfever, or ebbing slowly away from life by the fatal influences that sap\nthe constitutions of the young in such neighbourhoods, are taken in that\nthey may be brought back to life, or at worst may be lovingly tended,\nthat the last messenger may be made to bear a smile.\n\nBut the hope for the future of this most admirable institution has grown\nto fill a larger space. It is indeed essential to any really permanent\neffort in such a district that it should be increased, and the founders\nlooked forward with earnest anticipations of the time when, gathering\nhelp from without, they could enter upon a larger building, which will\nsoon be completed, and will be more adequate to the needs of such a\nteeming population. The area embracing Poplar, Mile End, Whitechapel,\nSt. George's, Limehouse, Ratcliff, Shadwell, and Wapping numbers some\n400,000 inhabitants, and strangely enough--as it will seem to those who\nhave not yet learnt the true characteristics of the really deserving\npoor--many of the distressed people about that quarter will conceal\ntheir poverty, and strive as long as they are able--so that when at last\nthey go to ask for aid the case may be almost hopeless, and the delay in\nobtaining admission may be fatal. There are already so many more\napplicants than can be received that it may be imagined what must be the\nvast amount of alleviable suffering awaiting the opportunity of wider\nmeans and a larger building. It would be easy to shock the reader by\ndetailing many of the more distressing diseases from which the poor\nlittle patients suffer, but on visiting the wards you are less shocked\nthan saddened, while the evident rest and care which are helping to\nrestore and to sooth the sufferers ease you of the greater pain by the\nhope that they inspire.\n\nIt is Sunday noon as we stand here in the dull street where, but for the\nsudden opening of a frowsy tavern and the appearance of two or three\nthirsty but civil customers, who are not only ready but eager to show\nyou the way to the \"Childun's 'orsepital,\" there would be little to\ndistinguish it from a thoroughfare of tenantless houses. Ratcliff is at\nits dinner at present, but we shall as we go back see the male residents\nleaning against the doorposts smoking, and the women and children\nsitting at the doors as at a private box at the theatre, discussing the\nsordid events of the streets and the small chronicles of their poor\ndaily lives.\n\nBut we must leave the cleanly-scrubbed waiting-room and its adjoining\nlarge cupboard which does duty as dispenser's room. It is dinnertime\nhere too, or rather it has been, and there are evidences of some very\njolly feasting, considering that, after all, the banqueters are mostly\nin bed and on sick diet, which in many cases means milk, meat, eggs, and\nas much nourishment as they can safely take. Indeed, food is medicine to\nthose who are turning the corner towards convalescence--food and air--of\nwhich latter commodity there is a very excellent supply considering the\nkind of neighbourhood we are in. Here and there we see a little wan,\npinched, wasted face lying on the pillow; a listless, transparent hand\nupon the counterpane--which are sad tokens that the tiny sufferers are\nnearing the eternal fold beyond the shadowy threshold where all is dark\nto us, who note how every breath bespeaks a feebler hold on the world of\nwhich they have learnt so little in their tiny lives. There are others\nwho are sitting up with picture-books, or waiting to have their\nabscesses dressed, and arms bandaged, or eyes laved with cooling lotion.\nHip-disease and diseases of the joints are evidence of the causes that\nbring so many of the little patients here, and there are severe cases of\nconsumption and of affections of the lungs and of the glands; but as the\nlittle fellow wakes up from a short nap, or catches the eye of the \"lady\nnurse\"--a lively and thoroughly practical Irishwoman, who evidently\nknows how to manage, and has come here, after special training, for the\nlove of doing good--they show a beaming recognition which is very\npleasant to witness. With all the nurses it is the same.\n\nThey are young women who, receiving small pay, have come to devote\nthemselves to the work for Christ's sake and the Gospel's--that is to\nsay, for the love of humanity and of the good tidings of great joy that\nannounce the love of Him who gave Himself for us.\n\nIn the girls' ward there is the same freshness and cleanliness of the\nplace and all its belongings, the same wonderful patience and courageous\nendurance on the part of the baby inmates, which has been my wonder ever\nsince we went in. Here is a mite of a girl sitting up in bed, holding a\nmoist pad to her eye, her poor little head being all bandaged. She never\nutters a sound, but the little round face is set with a determined\nendurance. \"What is she sitting up for?\" She is \"waiting to see muvver.\"\nAnother little creature, who is suffering from abscesses in the neck,\nsubmits to have the painful place poulticed only on the condition that\nshe shall decide, by keeping her hand upon the warm linseed-meal, when\nit is cool enough to put on. These are scarcely pleasant details, and\nthere are sights here which are very, very sad, and make us shrink--but\nI honestly declare that they are redeemed from being repulsive because\nof the evidence of love that is to be witnessed,--the awakening of the\ntender sympathies and sweet responses of the childlike heart. But for\nits being Sunday--which involves another reason to be mentioned\npresently--the beds would be strewed with toys and picture-books, while\na rocking-horse, which is a part of the hospital property, and a fit\nkind of steed to draw the \"hospital-carriage,\" which is represented by a\nperambulator--would probably be saddled and taken out of the stable on\nthe landing. On the topmost storey we come to the real infants, the\nlittle babies, one of whom is even now in the midst of his dinner, which\nhe takes from a feeding-bottle, by the aid of an india-rubber tube\nconveniently traversing his pillow.\n\nEverywhere there are evidences of the care with which the work is\ncarried on, and as we descend to the waiting-room again we have fresh\nproofs of the benefits that are being effected in the great district, by\nthe provision made for the little creatures, many of whom would\notherwise be left to linger in pain and want. For the waiting-room is\nfilled--filled with mothers and elder sisters and little brothers,\ntearfully eager and anxious for the weekly visit to the fifty children\nupstairs. Here is the secret of the brave little patient faces in the\nbeds and cots above.\n\nIt is infinitely touching to think how the prospect of \"seeing muvver\"\nsustains that chubby little sufferer,--how the expected visit nerves the\nstronger ones to endurance, and sends a fresh throb of life through\nthose who are still too weak to do more than faintly smile, and hold out\na thin pale hand.\n\nIf Mr. Ashby Warner, the Secretary at this Hospital for Sick Children at\nRatcliff Cross, could but send some responsive thrill into the hearts of\nthose who, having no children of their own, yet love Christ's little\nones all over the world,--or could bring home to the fond fathers and\nmothers of strong and chubby babes the conviction that to help in this\ngood work is a fitting recognition of their own mercies; nay, if even to\nsorrowing souls who have been bereaved of their dear ones, and who yet\nbelieve that their angels and the angels of these children also, do\nconstantly behold the face of the Father which is in heaven, there would\ncome a keen recognition of the blessedness of doing something for the\nlittle ones, as unto Him who declares them to be of His kingdom--there\nwould soon be no lack of funds to finish building that great new\nhospital at Shadwell, which is to take within its walls and great airy\nwards so many more little patients, to help and comfort by advice and\nmedicine so many more suffering mothers and sisters than could be\nreceived in the old sail-loft and its lower warehouse at Ratcliff Cross.\nFor the hope of the founders and their successors has at last being\nrealised--a larger building than they had at first dared to expect is to\nbe erected on ground which has been purchased, still within the district\nwhere the need is greatest--and when the time comes that the last touch\nof carpenter and mason shall have been given to the new home, and the\npicture of Mr. Heckford shall be hung upon another wall, there may well\nbe a holiday \"down east\"--as a day of thanksgiving and of gratitude, to\nthose who may yet help in the work by giving of their abundance.\n\n\n\n\n_IN THE KINGDOM._\n\n\n\"Of such are the kingdom of heaven;\" and \"whosoever doeth it unto the\nleast of these little ones, doeth it unto Me.\" Surely there is no need\nto comment again on these sayings of Him who, in His infinite\nchildlikeness, knew what must be the characteristics of His subjects,\nand declared plainly that whosoever should enter into the kingdom must\nbecome as a little child. One thing is certain, that those who are\nwithin that kingdom, or expect to qualify themselves for it, must learn\nsomething of the Divine sympathy with which Christ took the babes in his\narms and blessed them. Thank God that there is so much of it in this\ngreat suffering city, and that on every hand we see efforts made for the\nrescue, the relief, and the nurture of sick and destitute children.\nWould that these efforts could relieve us from the terrible sights that\nshould make us shudder as we pass through its tumultuous streets, and\nwitness the suffering, the depravity, and the want, that comes of\nneglecting the cry of the little ones, and of those who would bring them\nto be healed and sanctified.\n\nOnly just now I asked you to go with me to Ratcliff to see the forty\ntiny beds ranged in the rooms of that old sail-maker's warehouse which\nhas been converted into a Hospital for Sick Children. There is something\nabout this neighbourhood of Eastern London that keeps us lingering there\nyet; something that may well remind us of that star which shone above\nthe manger at Bethlehem where the Babe lay. The glory of the heavenly\nlight has led wise men and women to see how, in reverence for the\nchildlikeness, they may work for the coming of the kingdom, and those\nwho enter upon this labour of love, begin--without observation--to find\nwhat that kingdom really is, and to realise more of its meaning in their\nown hearts.\n\nTo the cradle in a manger the wise men of old went to offer gifts. To a\ncradle I would ask you to go with me to-day; to a whole homeful of\ncribs; which is known by a word that means crib and manger and cradle\nall in one--\"The Cr\u00e8che.\"\n\nThere is something, as it seems to me, appropriate in this French word\nto the broad thoroughfare (so like one of the outer boulevards of Paris)\nout of which we turn when we have walked a score or two of yards from\nthe Stepney Station, or where some other visitors alight from the big\nyellow tramway car running from Aldgate to Stepney Causeway. The\nCauseway itself is a clean, quiet street, and is so well known that the\nfirst passer-by can point it out to you, while, if the inhabitants of\nthe district can't quite master the _crunch_ of the French word, they\nknow well enough what you mean when you ask for the \"babies' home,\" or\nfor \"Mrs. Hilton's nursery.\" The home itself is but a baby institution,\nfor it is only five years old, but it might be a very Methuselah if it\nwere to be judged by the tender, loving care it has developed, and the\ngood it has effected, not only on behalf of the forty sucklings who are\nlying in their neat little wire cots upstairs, like so many human\nfledglings in patent safety cages, and for the forty who are sprawling\nand toddling about in the lower nursery, or for the contingent who are\nsinging a mighty chorus of open vowels on the ground-floor; but also in\nthe hopeful aid and tender sympathy it has conveyed to the toiling\nmothers who leave their little ones here each morning when they go out\nto earn their daily bread, and fetch them again at night, knowing that\nthey are fresh and clean, and have been duly nursed and fed, and put to\nsleep, and had their share of petting and of play.\n\nThe sound of the forty singing like one is not perceptible as we\napproach the house, which, with its large high windows open to the soft,\nwarm air, lies very still and quiet. The wire-blinds to the windows near\nthe street bear the name of the institution, and over the doorway is\ninscribed the fact that the Princess Christian has become the patroness\nof this charity, which appeals to all young mothers, and to every woman\nwho acknowledges the true womanly love for children. Each day, from\ntwelve to four o'clock, visitors are welcomed, except on Saturdays, when\nthe closing hour is two o'clock, as, even in some of the factories down\neast, the half-holiday is observed, and poor women working at\nbottle-warehouses and other places have the happiness of taking home\ntheir little ones, and keeping them to themselves till the following\nMonday morning. Do you feel inclined to question whether these poor,\ntoil-worn women appreciate this privilege? Are you ready to indulge in a\ncynical fear that they would rather forego the claim that they are\nexpected to assert? Believe me you are wrong. One of the most hopeful\nand encouraging results of the tender care bestowed upon these babes of\npoverty is that of sustaining maternal love, and beautifying even the\nfew hours of rest and family reunion in the squalid rooms where the\nchild is taken with a sense of hope and pride to lighten the burden of\nthe day. Early each morning the little creatures are brought, often in\nscanty clothing, sometimes shoeless, mostly with a ready appetite for\nbreakfast. Then the business of matron and nurses begins. But, come, let\nus go in with the children, and see the very first of it, as women,\npoorly clad, coarse of feature, and with the lines of care, and too\nfrequently with the marks of dissipation and of blows upon their faces,\ncome in one by one and leave their little living bundles, not without a\ncertain wistful, softened expression and an occasional lingering loving\nlook.\n\nThe house--stay, there are actually three houses, knocked into one so as\nto secure a suite of rooms on each floor--is as clean as the proverbial\nnew pin; and as we ascend the short flights of stairs, there is a sense\nof lightness and airiness which is quite remarkable in such a place, and\nis by some strange freak of fancy associated with the notion of a big,\npleasant aviary--a notion which is strengthened by our coming suddenly\ninto the nursery on the first-floor, and noting as the most prominent\nobject of ornament a large cage containing some sleek and silken doves,\nplaced on a stand very little above the head of the tiniest toddler\nthere.\n\nThere is enough work for the matron, her assistant, and the four or five\nyoung nurses who receive these welcome little guests each morning. The\nrows of large metal basins on the low stands are ready, and the\nmorning's ablutions are about to commence, so we will return presently,\nas people not very likely to be useful in the midst of so intricate an\noperation as the skilful washing and dressing of half a hundred babies.\n\nThere is plenty to see in the neighbourhood out of doors, but we need\nnot wander far to find something interesting, for on the ground-floor of\nthese three houses which form the Cr\u00e8che--the babies' home--provision\nhas also been made for babies' fathers, in the shape of \"a British\nWorkman,\" or working-man's reading, coffee, and bagatelle room, with a\nlibrary of readable books, and liberty to smoke a comfortable pipe.\n\nOf the servants' home, which is another branch of this cluster of\ncharitable institutions, we have no time to speak now, for our visit is\nintended for the Cr\u00e8che, and we are already summoned to the upper rooms\nby the sound of infant voices. Doubt not that you will be welcomed on\nthe very threshold, for here comes an accredited representative of the\ninstitution, just able to creep on all fours to the guarded door, thence\nto be caught up by the gentle-faced young nurse, who at once consigns\nthe excursionist to a kind of square den or pound, formed of stout bars,\nand with the space of floor which it encloses covered by a firm\nmattress. There, in complete safety, and with two or three good\nserviceable and amiably-battered toys, the young athletes who are\nbeginning to practise the difficult feat of walking with something to\nhold by, are out of harm's way, and may crawl or totter with impunity.\nThey have had their breakfast of bread and milk, and are evidently\nbeginning the day, some of them with a refreshing snooze in the little\ncribs which stand in a row against a wall, bright, as all the walls are,\nwith coloured pictures, while in spaces, or on low tables here and\nthere, bright-hued flowers and fresh green plants are arranged, so that\nthe room, necessarily bare and unencumbered with much furniture, is so\npleasantly light and gay, that we are again reminded of a great\nbird-cage. Out here in a little ante-room is a connected row of low,\nwooden arm-chairs, made for the people of Lilliput, and each furnished\nwith a little tray or table, and, drumming expectantly and with a\nvisible interest in the proceeding, sit a line of little creatures,\namidst whom a nurse distributes her attentions, by feeding them\ncarefully with a spoon, just as so many young blackbirds might be fed.\nAlready some of the little nurslings are sitting up in their cribs,\nquietly nodding their round little heads over some cherished specimen of\ndoll or wooden horse. One wee mite of a girl, quite unable to speak,\nexcept inarticulately, holds up the figure of a wooden lady of fashion,\nwith a wistful entreaty which we fail to understand, till the quick-eyed\nlady who accompanies us spies a slip of white tape in the tiny hand, and\nat once divines that it is to be bound about the fashionable waist, as\nan appropriate scarf, and at once performs this finishing stroke of the\ntoilet, to the immeasurable satisfaction of everybody concerned. This is\nin the upper room, the real baby nursery, where the age of some of the\ninmates is numbered by weeks only, and there is in each swinging cot a\nsweet, sleepy sense of enjoyment of the bottle which forms the necessary\nappliance of luncheon-time.\n\nAt the heads of several of these cots are inscribed the names of\ncharitable donors, happy parents, bereaved mothers, sympathetic women\nwith babies of their own, either on earth or in heaven, who desire to\nshow gratitude, faith, remembrance, by this token of their love for the\nchildlikeness of those they love and cherish in their deepest memories,\ntheir most ardent hopes. In more than one of the little beds there are\nsigns of the poverty or the sickliness in which the children were born,\nand the effects of which this home, with its freshness and light and\nfood, is intended to remedy. No cases of actual disease are here,\nhowever, since a small infirmary for children suffering from more\nserious ailments has been added to the institution, and the Sick\nChildren's Hospital is but three street lengths distant.\n\nThe first most remarkable experience which meets the visitor\nunaccustomed to observe closely, is the freshness and beauty of the\nchildren in this place. Squalid misery, dirt, neglect, starvation, so\ndisguise and debase even the children in such neighbourhoods, that\nsqueamish sentimentality turns away at the first glance, and is apt to\nconclude that there are essential differences between the infancy of\nTyburnia or Mayfair and the babyhood of Ratcliff and Shadwell. Yet I\nventure to assert that if Mr. Millais or some other great painter were\nto select his subjects for a picture from these rooms of the old house\nin Stepney Causeway, he would leave the galleries of Burlington House\nechoing with \"little dears,\" and \"what a lovely child!\" and popular\nprejudice would conclude that from birth the little rosebud mouths were\nduly fitted with silver spoons instead of being scant even of the\nbluntest of wooden ladles.\n\nAt this Cr\u00e8che at Stepney Causeway the reasons of the true childlike\nfreshness, alacrity, and even the engaging impetuosity and loving\nconfidence which characterise these little ones, is not far to seek. As\nyou came up you noticed row after row of blue check bags, hanging in a\ncurrent of fresh air on the wall of the staircase.\n\nThose bags contain the clothes in which these children are brought to\nthe Home in the morning. They are changed with the morning's ablutions,\nand clean garments substituted for them until the mothers come in the\nevening to fetch away their bairnies, and by that time they have been\naired and sweetened. It is noticeable that this has the effect in many\ninstances of inducing the women to make praiseworthy efforts to improve\nthe appearance of the children, and, indeed, the whole tendency of the\ntreatment of the little ones is to develop the tenderness and love which\nlie deep down in the hearts of the mothers. Even the endearing nicknames\nalmost instinctively bestowed upon the tiny darlings have a share in\npromoting this feeling, and the pretty rosy plump little creatures, or\nthe quaint expressive bright-eyed babies, who are called \"Rosie,\"\n\"Katie,\" \"Pet,\" \"Little Old Lady,\" and so on, all have a kind of happy\nindividuality of their own in the regards of the dear lady who founded\nand still directs the institution, and in those of the nurses who tend\nthem. Sometimes the names arise from some little incident occurring when\nthe children are first brought there, as well as from the engaging looks\nand manners of the little ones themselves. \"The King,\" is a really fine\nbaby-boy, the recognised monarch of the upper nursery, but his sway is\nstrictly constitutional; while a pretty little wistful, plump lassie, is\ngood-humouredly known as \"Water Cresses,\" and has no reason to be\nashamed of the name, for it designates the business by which a\nhard-working mother and elder sister earn the daily bread for the\nfamily.\n\nDid I say that the charge for each child is twopence daily? Nominally it\nis so; and let those who desire to know something of the real annals of\nthe poor remember that even this small sum--which of course cannot\nadequately represent anything like the cost--is not easily subtracted\nfrom the scanty earnings of poor women engaged in slopwork, or selling\ndried fish, plants, crockery, and small wares in the streets, or going\nout to work in warehouses, rope-walks, match-making, box-making, and\nother poor employments, where the daily wages will not reach to\nshillings, and sometimes are represented only in the pence column. Let\nit be remembered, too, that the husbands of these women (those who are\nnot prematurely widows, or whose husbands have not deserted them) are\nemployed as dock labourers, and are often under the terrible curse of\ndrink, or are in prison, while the women struggle on to support the\nlittle ones, who but for this institution, would perhaps be\nleft--hungry, naked, and sickly--to the care of children only two or\nthree years older than themselves; or would be locked in wretched rooms\nwithout food or fire till the mother could toil homeward, with the\ntemptation of a score of gin-shops in the way.\n\nEach of the bright intelligent little faces now before us has its\nhistory, and a very suggestive and pathetic history too.\n\nLook at this little creature, whose pet name of Fairy bespeaks the\nloving care which her destitute babyhood calls forth; she is only ten\nmonths old, and her mother is but nineteen, the widow of a sailor lost\nat sea two months before the baby was born.\n\nKatie, of the adult age of five years, is the child of a man who works\non barges. Rosie, one of the first inmates, has a drunken dock-labourer\nfor a father, and her mother is dead. Dicky represents the children\nwhose father, going out to sea in search of better fortune for wife and\nchildren, is no more heard of, and is supposed to be dead. \"The King\" is\nfatherless, and his mother works in a bottle-warehouse. The pathetic\nstories of these children is told by Mrs. Hilton herself, in the little\nsimple reports of this most admirable charity. They are so touching,\nthat I cannot hope to reproduce them in any language so likely to go\nstraight to the heart as that in which you may read them for yourself if\nyou will either visit the Cr\u00e8che, or send ever so small a donation, and\nask for a copy of the modest brown-covered little chronicle of these\nbaby-lives. Standing here in the two nurseries, where the dolls and\nNoah's arks, the pictures and the doves, nay, even the baby-jumpers\nsuspended from the ceilings, are but accessories to the clasp of loving\narms and the softly-spoken words of tender womanly kindness, I wonder\nwhy all one side of Stepney Causeway has not been demanded by a\ndiscriminating public for the extension of such an institution.\nLoitering in the lower room, where one little bright face is lifted up\nto mine, as the tiny hands pluck at my coat-skirt, and another chubby\nfist is busy with my walking-stick, I begin to think of the workhouse\nward, where mothers are separated from their children night and day; of\na prison, where I have seen a troop of little boys, and a flogging-room\nprovided by a beneficent Government for the recognition by the State of\nchildren who had qualified themselves for notice by the commission of\nwhat the law called crime.\n\nA pleasant odour of minced beef, gravy, and vegetables, known as \"Irish\nstew,\" begins to steal upon the air. The wooden benches in one of the\nrooms are suddenly turned back, and like a conjuring trick, convert\nthemselves into tiny arm-chairs, with convenient trays in front for\nplates and spoons. The little voices--forty like one--strike up a fresh\nchant, and a whisper of rice-pudding is heard. So we go out, wondering\nstill, and with a wish that from every nursery where children lisp\n\"grace before meat,\" some gracious message could be brought to aid and\nstrengthen those who believe with me that the most profitable investment\nof political economy, the most certain effort of philanthropy, is to\nbegin with the men and women of the future, and so abate the fearful\nthreatenings of coming pauperism, and the still more terrible menace of\na permanent \"criminal class.\"\n\nThe policy of the authorities, says Mrs. Hilton, in her interesting\nnarrative of the Cr\u00e8che, in stopping outdoor relief to poor widows with\nchildren is causing much sorrow. The 2_s._ 6_d._ or 3_s._ received from\nthe parish secured their rent, and they managed, with shirt-making or\ntrouser-finishing, to earn a bare subsistence; but now the battle for a\nmere existence is terrible. Doubtless, the children would be better\ncared for in the House, but mothers cannot be persuaded to give them up.\nOne such case has just passed under my notice; but the woman shall speak\nfor herself. \"'Oh, Mrs. Hilton, they have taken off my relief!--I, with\nfour little ones who cannot even put on their shoes and stockings. They\noffer me the House; but I never can give up my children. Look at baby;\nhe is ten months old; his father died of small-pox six months before he\nwas born; he was only ill five days.' I told her I was afraid she would\nnot be able to earn enough to keep them all. 'Well,' she said, 'I must\ntry--I will never go into the House.'\"\n\n\"But these women have very little feeling for their children, they are\nso low and brutalised.\" Are they? Let those who think so visit this\nCradle Home, and witness the bearing of the mothers who come to take\ntheir little ones home, or to nurse the sucklings at intervals snatched\nfrom work. Let them hear what such poor women will do for children _not_\ntheir own, even to the extent (as recently took place, in one instance,\nat least) of sharing with their less necessitous babes the natural\nsustenance that the mother cannot always give.\n\nSixty-five children received daily and a hundred or more on the books,\nwith space needed for many more than can be admitted; children who, some\nof them infants as they are, have learned to lisp profane oaths and\nbabble in foul language, and to give way to furious outbursts of\npassion, the result of neglect and evil example, and the life of the\nstreet and the gutter. It is but a short time, however, before this\nstrange dreadful phase of the distorted child mind disappears, and the\npet name is bestowed along with the gentle kindness that obliterates the\nevil mimicry of sin. The baby taken home from this purer atmosphere of\nlove becomes a messenger of grace to many a poor household, as the short\nannals of the Cr\u00e8che will tell; and even the pet names themselves are\nadopted by the mothers in speaking of and to their own children. One\nshort story from the first report sent out by Mrs. Hilton, and we will\ngo our way with a hope that some words of ours may win a fresh interest\nfor these little ones.\n\n\"A precious babe died, and the mother, too poor to bury it, sent for a\nparish coffin. The child was very dear to us, and we had named her our\nnursery Queen which had degenerated into 'Queenie.' It was a sore trial\nto us to see the golden curls mingled with sawdust, which is all that\nwas placed in the coffin; and yet we could not spend public funds on the\nfuneral, and feared to do it privately. In a few hours a mother came and\nsaid, 'Come and look at your Queenie now.' We went and saw that loving\nhands had softened all the harsh outlines. A little bed and pillow had\nbeen provided, a frill placed round the edge, and some children had lain\nfresh-gathered flowers on the darling's breast. The cost had been\n9\u00bd_d._, paid for by those mothers, and although so freely and lovingly\ngiven, it was the price of more than a meal each.\"\n\nIf every mother in London with a well-stocked larder would give the\nprice of a meal for the sake of a living child--but, there! my duty is\nnot to beg, but to describe.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH LOST LAMBS._\n\n\nOnly quite lately I had to write about the old French colony in\nSpitalfields, and of the changes that have come over entire\nneighbourhoods which were once associated with what is now a failing\nindustry, or rather with one which, so far as London is concerned, has\nnearly died out altogether.\n\nNot that the public has ceased to hear sundry reports of those quarters\nof the metropolis of which the name of Bethnal Green is an indication as\nsuggesting dire poverty, neglected dwellings, poorly-paid callings, and\nconstant distress. Some few years ago it became quite a fashion for\nnewspaper special reporters (following in the wake of one or two writers\nwho had begun to tell the world something of the truth of what they knew\nof these sad regions) to make sudden amateur excursions beyond\nShoreditch, for the purpose of picking up material for \"lurid\" articles\nabout foul tenements, fever, hunger, want, and crime. Bethnal Green\nbecame quite a by-word, even at the West End, and certain spasmodic\nefforts in the direction of charitable relief were made by well-meaning\npeople, so that for a time there was danger of a new kind of\ndemoralisation of the \"low neighbourhood,\" and the price of lodgings,\neven in the wretched tenements of its notorious streets, were expected\nto rise in proportion to the demand made by emigrants from other less\nfavoured localities, to which the special correspondent had not at that\ntime penetrated. One good work was effected by the attention of sanitary\nauthorities being called to the fever dens during a time of terrible\nepidemic, and a certain provision of medical aid, together with\npurification of drains, whitewashing of rooms, and clearing of sties and\ndustheaps, was the result. This was but temporary, however; and those\nwho best know the neighbourhood lying between Shoreditch and Bethnal\nGreen, and disclaimed by the local authorities of both because of its\nmisery and dilapidation, are also aware that in various parts of the\nwhole great district from the Hackney Road to Bishopsgate, and so\nembracing Spitalfields and part of Whitechapel, far away to Mile End and\n\"Twig Folly,\" there can be discovered more of want, hunger, and disease\nthan could exist in any free city under heaven, if men were not such\nhypocrites as to defy and disregard the laws which yet they claim to\nhave a hand in framing, and a power to enforce.\n\nOnly those who are personally acquainted with such a district can\nconceive what is the condition of the children of its streets, and yet\nevery ordinary wayfarer of the London thoroughfares may note to what a\nlife some of them are committed. About the outskirts of the markets,\nround the entrances to railway stations, cowering in the shadows of dark\narches, or scrambling and begging by the doors of gin-shops and taverns,\nthe boys--and what is even worse, the girls--are to be seen daily and\nnightly, uncared for, till they have learnt how to claim the attention\nof a paternal government by an offence against the law. When once the\nchild, who is a mere unnoted fraction of the population, has so far\nmatriculated in crime as to warrant the interposition of the police, he\nor she becomes an integer of sufficient importance to be dealt with by a\nmagistrate. Let an infancy of neglect and starvation lead to the\nreckless pilfering of a scrap of food from a counter, or the abstraction\nof something eatable or saleable from a market-cart or a porter's sack,\nand the little unclassified wretch is added as another unit to a body\nrecognised, and in some sense cared for, by the State. As a member of\nthe great \"criminal class,\" the juvenile thief becomes of immediate\nimportance. Even though the few juvenile criminal reformatories be full,\nthe gaol doors are open, and the teachings of evil companionship are\nconsummated by the prison brand. The individual war against society\ngains strength and purpose, for society itself has acknowledged and\nresented it. The child has entered on a career, and unless some extra\nlegal interposition shall succeed in changing the course of the juvenile\noffender by assuming a better guardianship, the boy may become an\nhabitual thief, a full-fledged London ruffian; the girl----?\n\nIt was with a deep sense of the terrible significance of this question,\nthat a small party of earnest gentlemen met, twenty-seven years ago, in\nthat foul neighbourhood to which I have referred, to consider what\nshould be done to rescue the deserted and destitute girls, some of whom\nhad already been induced to attend a ragged school, which was held in a\ndilapidated building that had once been a stable.\n\nThese thoughtful workers included among them two men of practical\nexperience; one of them, Mr. H. R. Williams, the treasurer of the\npresent institution, the other the Rev. William Tyler, whose bright\ngenial presence has long been a power among the poor of that district,\nwhere even the little ragged children of the streets follow him, and\nlisp out his name as the faithful shepherd, who both gives and labours\nin one of the truest \"cures of souls\" to be found in all great London.\nTo them soon came the present honorary secretary, Mr. J. H. Lloyd, a\ngentleman already familiar with teaching the poor in a neighbouring\ndistrict no less wretched and neglected. They were the right men for the\nbusiness in hand, and therefore they began by moving sluggish boards and\ncommissions to put in force the sanitary laws--and, in spite of the\nopposition of landlords with vested interests in vile tenements let out\nto whole families of lodgers from garret to basement, and of the\nmalignant opposition of owners of hovels where every abomination was\nrife, and pigs littered in the yards, while costermongers shared the\ncellars with their donkeys--insisted on the surrounding streets being\npaved and drained, and some of the houses being whitewashed and made\nweatherproof.\n\nNothing less could have been done, for the terrible cholera epidemic was\nalready raging in that tangle of courts and alleys. Application was at\nonce made for a share from the Mansion House Relief Fund, and the\ncommittee had to use every available shilling in order to supply food\nand medicine, blankets and clothing, to the wretched families; to visit\nwhom, a regular relief corps was organised, carrying on its beneficent\nand self-denying work, until the plague began to be stayed. Then with\nscarcely any money, but with unabated hope and fervid faith, this little\ncompany of men and women began to consider what they should do to found\na Refuge for the children (many of them orphans, and quite friendless)\nwho were everywhere to be seen wandering about, or alone and utterly\ndestitute in the bare rooms that had been their homes. There were\nalready certain institutions to which boys could be sent, for then, as\nnow, the provision for boys was far greater than for girls. This is one\nof the strange, almost inexplicable conditions of charitable effort, and\nat that time it was so obvious which was the greater need, that the\ncommittee at once determined to commence a building on a waste piece of\nland which had been purchased close by, and to devote it to the\nreception of thirty destitute girls, who should be snatched from deadly\ncontamination, and from the association of thieves and depraved\ncompanions.\n\nSurely, if slowly, the work went on, the plan of the building being so\nprepared that it could be extended as the means of meeting the growing\nneed increased. Almost every brick was laid with thoughtful care, and\nwhen subscriptions came slowly in, the funds were furnished among the\ncommittee themselves rather than the sound of plane and hammer should\ncease; till at last, when the King Edward Ragged School and Girl's\nRefuge was completed, a large edifice of three spacious storeys had\nsuperseded the old ruinous stable amidst its f\u0153tid yards and sheds,\nand, what was more, the building was paid for, and a family of children\nhad been gathered within its sheltering walls. At the time of my first\nvisit to the institution no more than twenty had been taken into this\nRefuge; but every foot of the building was utilised until the money\nshould be forthcoming to add to the dormitories, and enable the\ncommittee to fulfil the purpose that it had in view.\n\nIn the large square-paved playground forty happy little members of the\ninfant-school were marching to the slow music of a nursery song; and the\nnumbers on the books were 196, in addition to 304 girls who came daily\nto be instructed in the great school-room, where they were taught to\nread, and write, and sew. A hundred and twenty boys were also being\ntaught in the Ragged Church opposite, while seventy children over\nfifteen years of age attended evening classes, forty-two young men and\nwomen were in the Bible class, and a penny bank, a library of books, and\na benevolent fund for the relief of poor children in the neighbourhood,\nwere branches of the parent institution.\n\nThis, however, was seven years ago, and since that time so greatly has\nthe work flourished, that the Ragged and Infant Schools have premises of\ntheir own on the other side of the way; and the great building having\nbeen completed by the addition of an entire wing, its original purpose\nis accomplished, and it is \"The Girl's Refuge,\" of the King Edward\nCertified Industrial and Ragged Schools, Albert Street, Spitalfields.\n\nIt is to the receipt of munificent anonymous donations that the\ncommittee owe the completion of the building, and in order to extend the\nusefulness of their Refuge they have certified it under the provisions\nof the Industrial Schools Act of 1866. That this was in accordance with\ntheir ruling principle of making the most of every advantage at their\ncommand may be shown by the fact that when the School Board, almost\nappalled at the need for making immediate use of any existing\norganization, began to send cases to existing \"Homes,\" only eight of\nthese institutions could receive the children, and in these eight no\nmore than forty-four vacancies existed for Protestant girls. The\nconsequence of opening the King Edward Refuge under the Act was that it\nreceived nearly all the cases of the year, and that in the twelve months\nit was certified ninety new inmates after found an asylum within its\nwalls.\n\nIf you were to go there with me to-day, you would not wonder that the\nsupporters of this institution were anxious to erect another building in\nsome part of London, where another hundred lambs straying in this great\nwilderness could be taken to the fold. Passing through the neat\ndormitories, with their rows of clean white beds; peeping into the big\ntoy cupboard, where the kindly treasurer has recently placed a whole\nfamily of eighty dolls, and other attractive inventions to induce\nchildren to play, some of whom have never known before what play really\nmeant; looking at the lavatory with its long rows of basins let into\nslate slabs, and each with its towel and clean bag for brush and comb;\nnoting the quiet \"Infirmary,\" with its two or three beds so seldom\nneeded, and remarking that from topmost floor to the great laundry with\nits troughs and tubs, a constant supply of hot water provides alike for\nwarmth and cleanliness, I begin to wonder what must be the first\nsensations of a poor little dazed homeless wanderer on being admitted,\nwashed, fed, and neatly clothed. Why, the two kitchens--that one with\nthe big range, where most of the cooking is done, and the other cosy\nfarmhouse-looking nook, with its air of comfort--must be a revelation to\nall the senses at once. Then there are the highly-coloured prints on the\nwalls, the singing of the grace before meat; the regular and wholesome\nfood; the discipline (one little rebel is already in bed, whither she\nhas been sent for misconduct, and an elder girl demurely brings up her\nslice of bread and mug of milk and water on a plate); the provision for\nrecreation; the occasional visits of parents (many of them unworthy of\nthe name) at stated seasons; the outings to the park, the Bethnal Green\nMuseum, and other places; the Christmas treat; the summer presents of\ngreat baskets of fruit; the rewards and prizes; the daily instruction in\nsuch domestic work as fits them for becoming useful household servants.\nWhat a wonderful change must all these things present to the children of\nthe streets, whose short lives have often been less cared for than those\nof the beasts that perish! Everywhere there are marks of order, from the\nneat wire baskets at the foot of each bed in which the girls place their\nfolded clothes before retiring to rest, to the wardrobe closets and the\ngreat trays of stale bread and butter just ready for tea. Everywhere\nthere are evidences of care and loving kindness, from the invalid\nwheel-chair--the gift of the treasurer to the infirmary--to the splendid\nquality of the \"long kidney\" potatoes in the bucket, where they are\nawaiting the arrival of to-morrow's roast mutton, three days being meat\ndinner days, while one is a bread and cheese, and two are farinaceous\npudding days.\n\nAs we sit here and sip our tea--for I am invited to tea with the\ncommittee--and are waited on by three neat and pretty modest little\nwomen--one of them, a girl of eight, so full of child-like grace and\nsimplicity, that there would be some danger of her being spoiled if she\nwere not quite used to a little petting--who can help looking at the\ninmates now assembling quite quietly at the other end of the room, and\nthinking that in some of those faces \"their angels,\" long invisible\nbecause of neglect and wrong, are once more looking through, calm,\nhappy, and with a hope that maketh not ashamed. Do you see that still\nrather sullen-looking girl of thirteen. She came here an incorrigible\nyoung thief--her father, a tanner's labourer, and out at work from five\nin the morning--her mother bedridden--her home was the streets--her\ncompanions a gang of juvenile thieves such as haunt Bermondsey, and make\nan offshoot of the population of a place till recently called \"Little\nHell.\"\n\nThat girl, aged ten, was sent out to beg and to sing songs, and was an\nadept in the art of pretending to have lost money. There is the daughter\nof a crossing-sweeper, who cut his throat, and yonder a child of nine,\ndriven from home, and charged with stealing, as her sister also is, in\nanother Refuge; and close by are two girls, also sisters, who were found\nfatherless and destitute, wandering about famishing and homeless, except\nfor a wretched room, with nothing in it but two heaps of foul straw. I\nneed not multiply cases: and but for the known power of love and true\nhuman interest, in which the very Divine love is incarnated, you would\nwonder where some of these children obtained their quiet docile manner,\ntheir fearless but modest demeanour, their bright, quiet, sweet faces.\n\nOne case only let me mention, and we will go quietly away, to think of\nwhat may be done in such a place by the discipline of this love and true\nChristian interest. Do you see that emaciated little creature--the pale,\npinched shadow of a child sitting at a table, where some of her\ncompanions tend her very gently? She is the daughter of a woman who is\nan incorrigible beggar. She has never known a home, and for four out of\nher eight years of life has been dragged about the street an infant\nmendicant; has slept in common lodging-houses; and in her awful\nexperience could have told of thieves' kitchens, of low taverns, and of\nthe customs of those vile haunts where she had learnt the language of\nobscenity and depravity. But that has become a hideous, almost forgotten\ndream, and she is about to awaken to a reality in a world to which the\npresent tenderness with which she is cared for is but the lowest\nthreshold. It is only a question of a month or two perhaps. One more\nbright sunny holiday with her schoolmates in the pleasant garden of the\ntreasurer, at Highgate--whither they all go for a whole happy day in the\nsummer--and she will be in the very land of light before the next\nhaytime comes round. She wants for nothing--wine and fruit and delicate\nfare are sent for her by kind sympathetic hands; but she is wearing\naway, not with pain, but with the exhaustion of vital power, through the\nprivations of the streets. From the Refuge she will go home--a lost lamb\nfound, and carried to the eternal fold.\n\nBut another building has been found; a large, old-fashioned mansion in\nSt. Andrew's Road, close to the Canal Bridge at Cambridge Heath, and\nthere the more advanced inmates of this original home in Spitalfields\nare to be drafted into classes whence they will go to take a worthy part\nin the work of the world, so soon as the necessary subscriptions enable\nthe committee to increase the number of lambs rescued from the wolves of\nfamine and of crime.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THE SICK._\n\n\nThe memory of the pleasant summer holiday remains with many of us when\nwe have come back again to the duties of the work-a-day world, and it\nwill be good for us all if the gentle thoughts which that time of\nenjoyment brought with it remain in our hearts, to brighten our daily\nlives by the influences that suggest a merciful and forbearing temper.\n\nIt is perhaps remarkable that few of the charitable institutions at\nplaces to which holiday-makers resort are to any commensurate extent\nbenefited by the contributions of those visitors who, while they are\nengaged in pursuing their own pleasures, seldom give themselves time to\nthink that as they have freely received so they should freely give.\nConsidering that while we are engaged in the absorbing business of\nmoney-making, or in the exacting engagements of our daily calling, we\ncan afford little time for the investigation of those claims which are\nmade upon us to help the poor and the needy, it might not altogether\ndetract from the higher enjoyment of a period of leisure if we devoted a\nfew spare hours to inquiring what is being effected for the relief of\nsuffering in any place wherein we take up our temporary abode.\n\nWith some such reflection as this I stand to-day on the spot which to\nordinary Londoners is most thoroughly representative of the summer\n\"outing,\" without which no true Cockney can feel that he is content--a\nspot, too, which has become, for a large number of English men and\nwomen, and notably for a whole host of English children, the synonym for\nrenewed health and strength--the head of Margate jetty.\n\nIt is a strange contrast, this moving crowd of people, with their bright\ndresses and gay ribbons fluttering in the breeze; the smiling faces of\ngirls and women amidst a toss and tangle of sea-blown tresses; the green\nsparkle of the sea beneath the shining sky; the voices of sailors, the\nshrill laughter of boys and girls coming from the sands below; the gleam\nof white sails; the flitting wings of fisher-birds; the gay tumult of\nthe High Street; the traffic of hucksters of shells and toys--a strange\ncontrast to the scene which may be witnessed in and around that large\nbuilding which we passed only yesterday as the Margate boat stood off\nfrom Birchington, and passengers began to collect coats and bags and\numbrellas as they saw friends awaiting them on the landing-stage of this\nvery jetty.\n\nIt seems a week ago; and just as these few hours seem to have separated\nus far from yesterday's work, and the routine of daily life, does the\nshort distance along the High Street and past the railway station seem\nto separate us by an indefinite distance from the sickness and pain that\nis yet in reality so near. Even as we think of it in this way, the\ndivision is less marked, the contrast not so strange, for in that\nbuilding Faith, Hope, and Charity find expression, and bring a cheerful\nradiance to those who need the care of skilful hands and the sympathy of\nloving hearts.\n\nThe name of the place is known all over England, for within its walls\nare assembled patients who are brought from the great towns of different\nshires, as well as from mighty London itself, that they may be healed of\nthat dread malady, the most potent cure for which is to take them from\nthe close and impure atmosphere of their crowded homes, and exchange the\nstifled breath of courts and alleys for the boundless \u00e6ther of the sea.\n\nFor the building, to visit which I am here to-day, is the \"Royal\nSea-Bathing Infirmary, or National Hospital for the Scrofulous Poor,\nnear Margate,\" and there are at this moment 220 men, women, and children\nwithin its sheltering wards. Stay--let me be accurate. I said within its\nwards; but here, as I pass the gates and the unpretentious house of the\nresident surgeon to the broad sea front of the building, I note that\nunder the protecting screen of the wall that bounds the wide space of\ngrass-plot and gravel-paths a row of beds are placed, and in each of\nthem a patient lies basking in the warm sunlit air; while a little band\nof convalescents saunter gently, some of them with the aid of crutch or\nstick, with the enjoyment of a sense of returning strength. If I mistake\nnot, there are two or three \"Bath chairs\" crunching the gravel paths a\nlittle further on, and down below upon the space marked out and\nseparated from the outer world upon the beach, the two bathing-machines\nof the establishment are occupied by those for whom convalescence is\ngrowing into health.[3]\n\nThe full meaning of such a change can only be realised by those who know\nhow terrible a disease scrofula becomes, not only in the deadly\ninsidious form of consumption, but in the various deformities and\ndistortions of the limbs of which it is the cause; and in those cases\nwhere, to the pain and depression of the disorder itself is added some\nterrible affection of the skin, which the sensitive patient knows can\nscarcely fail to be repulsive to those who witness it, unless, indeed\nthey have learnt to regard it only as a reason for deeper compassion and\nfor more earnest consolation.\n\nAlmost every form of the disorder is to be seen out here in the wide\nnorthern area of this inclusive building, which has long ago been bought\nand paid for, along with the three acres of freehold ground on which it\nstands.\n\nOf the deep sympathy with which it has been supported by those who early\nlearned to take an interest in its beneficent work, the fountain which\nhas been erected in the centre of the green to the memory of the late\nRev. John Hodgson, one of its trustees, is a mute witness. Mr. Hodgson\nlaboured earnestly to secure those casual interests which might be\nobtained from the vast number of persons who visit Margate every year.\nIn order to make the most of small regular contributions, he appealed\nfor \"five shillings a year,\" and since his death in 1870 this fund has\nincreased, so that in one year nearly 6,000 subscribers had contributed\n\u00a31,405 7_s._ 4_d._ Never was holiday charity more appropriately applied,\nas anybody who will visit the institution itself may witness in those\nlong wards beyond the open passage, to which the card of Dr. Rowe, one\nof the three visiting surgeons, has directed me.\n\nSince the first establishment of the institution, seventy-seven years\nago, when sixteen cases were treated as a beginning, above 29,000\npatients, from London and all parts of the country, have received\nrelief; and to-day the number in the institution (taking no account of a\ncontingent of \"out-patients\") includes 42 men, 50 women, and 120\nchildren, none of whom are local cases, but all from other parts of\nEngland, whence they come frequently from a long distance.\n\nIn each of the six wards, of which four are on the ground floor, there\nis a head-nurse and an assistant, with six helpers for the children's,\nand four for the adult department, beside the night nurses, who sit up\nin case of any emergency. There is accommodation for 250 sufferers and\nfor the 40 nurses, attendants, and domestics required for the service of\nthe hospital; so the 220 patients there now, represent the approaching\nperiod when a new wing will have to be added, even if only the urgent\ncases are to be admitted.\n\nThe year's list of occupants of the 250 beds shows a total of 721\npatients, of whom 614 had been discharged in January, 399 being either\ncured or very greatly benefited, 171 decidedly benefited, and only 44\nobviously uncured; a very large amount of actual gain to humanity, when\nwe reflect on the conditions of the disease to remedy which the\ninstitution is devoted.\n\nIf out of 721 cases 399 are either cured or have received such marked\nbenefit as to render their ultimate cure highly probable, it is an\nachievement worthy of the earnest work of which it is the result, a\ncontribution to beneficent efforts well worth the \u00a37,966 which has\nnecessarily been expended in the provision, not only of the appliances\nwhich give comfort and rest, but of the generous food and drink which,\nwith the glorious air from the sea, is the medicine necessary to build\nup the feeble frames and renew the impoverished blood of those to whom\nmeal-times come to be welcome events in the day, instead of merely\nlanguid observances.\n\nDown in the kitchen, with its great cooking range and its capacious\nboilers, there are evidences of that \"full diet\" which is characteristic\nof the place; and it is difficult to decide which are the most\nsuggestive, the long row of covered japanned jugs which hang\nconveniently to the dresser-shelf, and are used for the conveyance of\n\"gravy,\" or the mighty milk-cans standing in a corner, ready to be taken\naway when the evening supply comes in from the Kentish dairies. Half a\npound of cooked meat for dinner is the daily allowance for each man and\nfor every boy over fourteen years of age, while women and girls receive\nsix ounces, and children four ounces. Breakfast consists of coffee and\nbread-and-butter, varied in the afternoon by tea, and supper of bread\nand cheese for adults, and bread and butter for children. Roast and\nboiled meat is served on alternate days, with accompanying vegetables,\nand there are three \"pudding days\" for those who can manage this\naddition to the fare; while every man and woman may have a pint of\nporter, and each child a pint of table ale, at the discretion of the\ndoctors. This, of course, represents the ordinary diet, in which\nspecific differences are made for special cases where other or daintier\nfood is required. Perhaps I should have said that this is the scale\nadopted in the refectory, a large airy room, to the long table in which\nthe patients who are able to \"get about\" are now advancing with a\ncheerful premonition of dinner. There is no space to spare, and there\nare at present no funds to spend in additional building, so that this\ngreat airy refectory is used as chapel and assembly room. The Bread of\nLife, as well as the temporal bread, is distributed here; and those who\nwould object to the necessity may either contribute to build another\nroom, or may come and learn how every meal in such a place, and for such\na cause as this, should become a sacrament. Many varieties of the forms\ntaken by scrofulous disease may be seen here; and yet the hopeful looks,\nthe cheerful influence of the bright summer weather, the green glimpses\nof the sea through doors and windows, and the fresh bracing air, impart\nto these sufferers an expressive lively briskness, which somehow removes\nthe more painful impressions with which we might expect to witness such\nan assembly.\n\nIt is so perhaps in a still greater measure in these large airy wards,\nwhere children sit or lie upon the beds, some of them wholly or\npartially dressed, where the disease has produced only deformities under\nsurgical treatment, or such forms of skin disease as affect the face. Of\nthe latter there are some very severe and obstinate cases, and from\nthese the unaccustomed visitor can scarcely help turning away, but often\nonly to _re_-turn, and mark how cheerfully and with what a vivid\nalacrity the little patients move and play, and look with eager interest\non all that is going on. For here--in the boys' ward--there is no\nrepression of youthful spirits, so that they be kept within the bounds\nof moderate decorum, nor do the patients themselves seem to feel that\nthey are objects of melancholy commiseration. To speak plainly, even the\nworst cases are not reminded that there are people who may be revolted\nat their affliction. Indeed I, who am tolerably accustomed to many\nexperiences that might be strange to others, am rather taken aback by\none little \"case,\" whose face and limbs, though apparently healed, have\nbeen so deeply seamed and grooved by the disorder, which must have\nclaimed him from babyhood, that he has evidently learned to regard\nhimself as an important surgical specimen, and, on my approach to his\nbed, begins with deliberate satisfaction to divest himself of his\nstockings, in order to exhibit his legs. Hip and spinal disease are\namong the most frequent and often the most fatal forms of scrofula. One\nboy, with delicate and regular features, his fragile hand only just able\nto clasp in the fingers the small present I am permitted to offer him,\nshows the shadow of death upon his face. In his case the disorder has\nshown itself to be beyond medical, as it has already been beyond\nsurgical aid, and his short hurried breathing denotes that before the\nsummer days have been shortened by the autumn nights, and the leaves are\nlying brown and sere, he will be in a better and a surer home, and\nhealed for evermore.\n\nIt will be a peaceful end, no doubt, and he will yet have strength\nenough to be taken home to die, where other than strangers' hands will\nminister to him at the last, but not more tenderly, it may be, than\nthose that smooth his pillow to-day.\n\nAs we leave the boys' wards--clean, and bright, and fresh as they\nare--we encounter a cosy little party of juvenile convalescents, who are\ncomfortably seated on the door-mat, engaged in a stupendous game of\ndraughts.\n\nThere is more of beauty than deformity, more of life than of death, more\nperhaps of living eager interest than of sadness and sorrow to be seen\nhere, after all; and this is particularly remarkable in the\nlarge-windowed spacious ward where the girls can look fairly out upon\nthe gleaming sea. Properly enough, the room occupied by these young\nladies has been made more ornamental than that of the boys. The walls\nare gay with coloured prints, and there are flowers, and a remarkably\ncheerful three-sided stove, which gives the place an air of comfort,\nthough, of course, it has now no fire in it. Then some of the girls\n(with those thoughtful delicate faces and large wistful inquiring eyes\nwhich are so often to be observed among lame people) are engaged in\nfancy needlework as they lie dressed upon the beds to which they are at\npresent mostly confined, because of deformities of the feet or legs\nrequiring surgical treatment. There is a library (which needs\nreplenishing), from which patients are allowed to take books; and those\nchildren who are able to leave the wards, and are not suffering from\nillness, are taught daily by a schoolmaster and a schoolmistress, while\na visiting chaplain is of course attached to the hospital.\n\n[3] This was written in the latter part of July, 1874.\n\n\n\n\n_BLESSING THE LITTLE CHILDREN._\n\n\nI cannot yet leave that sea-coast where so great a multitude go to find\nrest and healing. The Divine Narrative may well appeal to us in relation\nto such a locality, for it was by the sea-shore that the Gospel came to\nthose who went out to seek Jesus of Nazareth; it was there that the poor\npeople heard Him gladly; there that the sick who were brought to Him\nwere made whole: there that He fed the great company who lacked bread.\n\nAll the deeds of humanity were recognised by Him who called himself the\n\"Son of Man.\" The blessing of little children is one of those needs of\ntrue human life which the Lord recognised gladly. He recognises it\nstill; and His solemn mingling of warning and of promise with regard to\nits observance, has an intensity that may well appeal to us all, now\nthat, after eighteen centuries of comparative neglect and indifference,\nwe are discerning that the only hope of social redemption is to be found\nin that care for children which shall forbid their being left either\nmorally or physically destitute.\n\nThere is a house, standing high above the sea, in that great breezy\nsuburb of Margate, known as Cliftonville--to which I want you to pay a\nvisit when the bright, cheerful, airy wards, the light, spacious\ndining-room, and comfortable, home-like enlivening influences of the\nplace will entitle it to be regarded as the fitting consummation of two\nother admirable institutions for the nurture and maintenance of orphan\nand fatherless children.\n\nThe modest little building referred to is named \"The Convalescent and\nSea-side Home for Orphans,\" Harold Road, Margate. The parent\ninstitutions are \"The Orphan Working School,\" at Haverstock Hill, and\nthat most attractive series of pretty cottages on the brow of the hill\nat Hornsey Rise, which have been more than once spoken of as \"Lilliput\nVillage,\" but the style and title of which is \"The Alexandra Orphanage\nfor Infants\"--a name, the distinguishing feature of which is that it is\nimmediately associated with its first patroness, the Princess of Wales.\n\nOf the Home at Margate I need not now speak particularly, except to note\nthat it is for the reception of the little convalescents,\nwho--suffering, as many of them do, from constitutional and hereditary\nweakness, which is yet not actual sickness, and recovering, as many of\nthem are, from the feeble condition which has been to some extent\nremedied by the careful nurture, good food, and healthy regimen, of the\nlarge institutions near London--are not fit patients either for their\nown or any other infirmary wards, and yet require to be restored to\ngreater strength before they can join the main body of their young\ncompanions in the school or the playground.\n\nEnough that it is picturesque and substantially pretty, as becomes a\nplace which is to become the home of thirty children, taken from among\nnearly six hundred, the parents of nearly half of whom have died of\nconsumption, and so left to their offspring that tendency to a feeble\nconstitution which can be best remedied by the grand medicine of\nsea-air, wholesome nutritious food, and a judicious alternation of\nhealthful exercise and rest.\n\nIt is to Mr. Joseph Soul--the late indefatigable secretary of the\nWorking School, with which he has been connected for nearly forty years,\nand the honorary secretary of the Alexandra Orphanage, of which he may\nbe regarded as the virtual founder--that the proposal to establish this\nConvalescent Home was due, and its affairs are administered at the\noffice of the two charities, at 63, Cheapside.\n\nBut it is necessary to tell as briefly as possible the story of the\noldest of the two institutions of which this building is to be an\naccessory--not only the oldest of these two, but probably _the oldest_\nvoluntarily supported orphan asylum in London, since it dates from 116\nyears ago, when George II. was King, when Louis XV. was scandalising\nEurope and preparing the Revolution, when Wesleyan Methodism was\ncommencing a vast religious revival, when Doctor Johnson had but just\nfinished writing his dictionary, and when William Hogarth was painting\nthose wonderful pictures which are still the most instructive records of\nsociety and fashion as seen in the year 1758.\n\nIt was in that year, on the 10th of May, that fourteen periwigged and\npowdered gentlemen met at the George Inn, in Ironmonger Lane, in order\nto discuss how they might best found an asylum for forty orphan\nchildren--that is to say, for twenty boys and twenty girls.\n\nThey soon came to a solemn decision that there was a \"sufficient\nsubscription for carrying the scheme into execution,\" and a record to\nthat effect was soberly entered in the very first clean page of the\nfirst minute-book of the Charity, with the additional memoranda that a\ncommittee was chosen, and a treasurer appointed to collect and take care\nof the money necessary to support the undertaking.\n\nThe early minute-books of this charity, by the way, are models of\nserious penmanship. Grave achievements of caligraphy, with engrossed\nheadings, elaborate flourishes, and stiff formal hedge-rows of legal\nverbiage, suggestive of the fact that the secretaries were either\nattorneys or scriveners, and regarded the entries in a minute-book or\nthe opening of a new account as very weighty and important events not to\nbe lightly passed over. In this they were probably right: and, at all\nevents, just so much of the old methodical exactitude has come down to\nthe present day in the history of the institution, that the published\naccounts of the Orphan Working School have been referred to by the\n_Times_ as models of condensation with a clearness of detail, which may\nbe regarded as the best indication of a well-ordered and economical\nadministration.\n\nIt might not be too much to say that the old principle of carrying a\nscheme into execution only when there are sufficient subscriptions still\ncharacterises the operations of the institution. At all events, Mr. Soul\nhad secured enough money for the completion of the new building at\nMargate before the actual work commenced, and his experience told him\nthat funds would be forthcoming to maintain it.\n\nThe founders of the original Orphan Working School, however, laid their\nwigs together to obtain a house ready built, and at last found one\nadapted to the purpose, in what was then the suburban district known as\nHogsden--since gentilised into Hoxton. Like all really good work, the\nenterprise began to grow--there were so many orphans, and this was still\nthe only general asylum maintained by subscriptions--so that, as funds\ncame in, two other adjoining houses were rented, and in seventeen years\nthe number of inmates had increased from forty to 165.\n\nReading the formal and yet most interesting records of this parent\ninstitution for the care of the orphan and the fatherless, I fall into a\nkind of wonder at the enormous change in the method of \"nurture and\nadmonition,\" of teaching and training, which has taken place in the past\neighty years. Even in this house at Hoxton, whereof the founders appear\nto have been kindly old gentlemen, the discipline was enormously\nsuggestive of that stern restriction and unsympathetic treatment which\nwas thought necessary for the due correction of the \"Old Adam\" in the\nyoung heart. We know how great an outcry has quite lately been made at\nthe discovery of the remains of that mode of chastisement which seems to\nhave been abandoned almost everywhere, except by a special revival in\ngaols, and at two or three of the public schools to which the sons of\ngentlemen are consigned for their education.\n\nThe discipline at the Orphanage at Hogsden was cold and repellent\nenough, perhaps--had very little about it to encourage the affections,\nor to appeal to the loving confidence of a child--but it was less\nbarbarous than the code which at that time found its maxim in the\nsaying, \"Spare the rod, spoil the child.\" Only very flagrant\ndisobedience, persistent lying and swearing, were punished with public\nwhipping. But even in the case of ordinary falsehood, a child was placed\nwith his face to the wall at meal-time, with a paper pinned to his back\nwith the word \"Lyar\" written on it, till he was sufficiently penitent to\nsay, in the presence of all the rest of the children, \"I have sinned in\ntelling a lie. I will take more care. I hope God will forgive me.\"\n\nThe name, \"Working School,\" was then interpreted so strictly, that there\nwas comparatively little margin for education. Arithmetic appears to\nhave been regarded with peculiar jealousy by the founders of this\ninstitution, who, being perhaps bankers, accountants, and capitalists,\nlooked upon such instruction as calculated to give the poor little boys\nand girls notions beyond their station.\n\nFor ten years the teaching of figures was altogether ignored; and it was\nonly when some of the children, having heard that there was a science\ncalled \"summing\" known to the outer world, begged to be taught, that a\nsolemn meeting of the Governors was called to consider the question,\nwhen it was conceded, after great deliberation, and no little opposition\nfrom the anti-educational part of the Committee, that arithmetic should\nbe permitted to be taught, as far as addition.\n\nThus, to their few and rigidly ordered recreations, their hours of\nmanual labour in making nets, list-carpets, slippers, and other cheap\ncommodities, to their instruction in plain reading, and to their times\nfor partaking of plain and even coarse food, served in not too tempting\na way, was added the art of writing, and of the first two rules of\narithmetic.\n\nThis was the condition of the orphans in 1775; but still the charity\ngrew--grew out of house-room; and as the funds grew also, it was\ndetermined that it should have a building of its own, on a plot of\nground in the City Road, where, improvements having set in, the grand\nold charity moved with the march of modern improvement. Life became less\nhard, and instruction more extended. The influences of modern thought\nand education had superseded the old severity, and new Governors\nsucceeded the bewigged and powdered founders, who had, after all, so\nwell ordered their work, that it increased with the growth of\nintelligence.\n\nDuring the seventy-two years from 1775 to 1847, the institution had\nreceived 1,124 orphans; and again the dimensions of the house were\nunequal to the demands of the inmates; while the house itself, and the\nground on which it stood, had become so valuable, that it was determined\nto buy a plot of land at Haverstock Hill, and there to found a truly\nrepresentative Home for 240 orphan boys and girls--a number which has\nnow increased (as the building itself has been extended) till 400\norphans are taught, fed, and clothed in one of the most truly\nrepresentative charities in all great London.\n\nThe obvious distress and suffering of those who are destitute, and whose\nclaims are constantly before us, may lead us to forget the frequent\nneeds of a large number of people who represent uncomplaining poverty.\nThere is a tendency to identify general appeals to benevolence with\nefforts for the relief of that extreme necessity which demands immediate\nand almost undiscriminating aid, and requires the prompt distribution of\nalms or the provision of a meal, warmth, and shelter. Doubtless, the\nactually homeless and destitute claim our first attention--especially in\nthe case of deserted and neglected children--and I have tried to show\nwhat is being done for those little ones, whose presence in the streets\nof this great wilderness of brick and stone should of itself be an\nappeal strong enough to move the heart of humanity in their behalf.\n\nThere is, however, another class of poverty, which makes no sign, and\nbears distress dumbly. There is a need, which, without being that of\nactual destitution, requires a constant struggle to prevent its\nrepresenting the want of nearly all the luxuries, and some of those\nthings which most of us regard as the necessaries of life.\n\nWe find this among that large section of the middle class represented by\npersons holding inferior clerkships, small official appointments, and\nsituations where the salaries are only sufficient to yield a bare\nsubsistence, and there is little or no probability of their improvement,\nbecause, among the number of candidates who are eager to fill such\npositions, there exists a degree of distress not easily estimated, even\nby the appearance of those who are the sufferers. Of course, relief\ncannot reach such people through the poor-law, or by any direct\nlegislation. They are far above the reach of almsgiving, or even of\nsocieties for distributing bread and coals. They have a just pride in\nmaintaining a position of independence; and though they may sometimes\nlook with a feeling too near to envy at the more prosperous mechanic or\nthe skilled artisan, who can earn \"good wages,\" dress in fustian or\ncorduroy, send his children to the Board School, and regulate working\nhours and weekly pay by the rules of a Trade Union, they mostly keep\nbravely on, hoping that as the children grow up, they may get the boys\n\"into something,\" and find some friend to help them to place the girls\nin situations where they may partly earn their own living.\n\nWith rent and taxes often absorbing a fourth part of his entire income,\nwith market cliques combining against him to keep up the prices of food,\nwith dear bread, dear potatoes, boots and shoes always wearing out, and\nrespectability demanding cloth clothes, even though they be made of\n\"shoddy,\" how is the clerk, the employ\u00e9, the small tradesman, the\nstruggling professional man, to follow the prudent counsel which\nwealthier people are always ready to bestow upon him--and \"lay by for a\nrainy day?\" Rainy day! why his social climate may be said to represent a\ncontinual downpour, so far as the necessity for pecuniary provision. He\nlives (so to speak) with an umbrella always up, and it is only a poor\nshift of a gingham after all. The half-crown which is in his pocket\nto-night is already bespoken for to-morrow's dinner. As he listens to\nthe account of the week's marketing, and knows that his wife and\nchildren have been living for three days out of seven upon little better\nthan bread and dripping, he feels like an ogre as he thinks of the\nsevenpenny plate of meat that he consumed at one o'clock, because it was\nonly \"a makeshift\" at home.\n\nHow is he to pay even the smallest premium to insure his life, when he\nis obliged to meet ordinary emergencies by a visit to the pawnbroker\nafter dark?\n\nInsure his life! Ah, the time may come when the hand of the bread-winner\nis still, when the little money left in the house is scarcely sufficient\nto pay for the \"respectable funeral\" which is the last effort of genteel\npoverty, when the red-eyed widow gathers her fatherless children about\nher, and wonders amidst her stupor of grief what is to become of the\nyounger ones who yet so need her care that she will not be able to go\nforth to seek the means of living. To what evil influences may they be\nexposed while she is absent striving to earn their daily food?--the\ntemptations of the streets for the boys: the certainty that the elder\ngirls must either starve at home to mind the little ones, or must become\ndrudges before they have learnt more than the mere rudiments of what\nthey should be taught. It is then she feels that dread of degradation,\nwhich is amongst the sharpest pangs of the poverty which would fain hide\nitself from the world.\n\nIt may be that the children are left a parentless little flock, huddling\ntogether in the first dread and sorrow of the presence of death, and the\nsense of utter bereavement, and awaiting the intervention of those who\nare sent by the Father of the fatherless. Then, indeed, prompt and\ncertain help is needed--help efficient and permanent--and such aid can\nseldom be secured except by organised institutions.\n\nBut let us see to what that Orphan Working School, established in 1758,\nhas developed in 1874. We have but to take a short journey to the foot\nof Haverstock Hill, and there, in that pleasant locality named Maitland\nPark, part of which is the property of the Institution, we shall see the\nsuccessor of the old house in Hogsden Fields, while its plain but large\nand lofty committee room is the modern representative of the parlour of\nthe George Inn, Ironmonger Lane, where plans were first laid for the\nmaintenance of forty orphan children.\n\nThis wide and lofty building, with its handsome front entrance and its\nless imposing side gate in the wing, is the home for nearly three\nhundred boys, and nearly two hundred girls, when its funds are\nsufficient to keep each of the long rows of neat beds in the great airy\nwards appropriated to a little sleeper.\n\nI mention the dormitories first, because both on the girls' and on the\nboys' side of the building these are illustrative of the complete\norderliness and excellent management of the Institution--illustrative of\nwhat should always be the first consideration, namely, to bring comfort\nto the child's nature, to join to necessary discipline a sense of real\nfreedom and happy youthful confidence without dread of repression and\nthe constant looking for of punishment.\n\nAs to the appliances that belong to the building, they are such as might\nalmost raise a doubt in some prejudiced minds whether we are not doing\ntoo much for children in the present day, and thinking too constantly of\ntheir comfort. But, alas! it needs many compensations to make up for the\nloss of parents; and in any such an Institution where, 400 children form\nthe great family, the arrangements must be on a large scale, so that it\nis only a matter of experienced forethought to combine a generous\nliberality with the truest economy. Thus, there are baths, and long\nwell-ordered lavatories, to each wing, even to a large plunge bath for\neach side; and there is a great laundry, where the girls are taught to\nwash, clear-starch, and iron, not in the regular patent steam-heated\ntroughs only, but in genuine homely tubs. There is a great handsome\ndining-hall, with a painted ceiling, wherein the vast troop of quiet,\norderly, and happy-faced children sit down to well-cooked wholesome\nmeals of meat and pudding. There are two great school-rooms, one divided\ninto class-rooms for the girls, and another wherein the boys assemble to\nbe taught, not in the narrow spirit of the first directors of the old\nbuilding in the City Road, but with a full appreciation of the duty of\ngiving these young minds and hearts full opportunity to expand. Next to\nthe admirable evidences of _family_ comfort, and bright _domestic_\ninfluences, which pervade this place, we may regard the efficient\neducation of the children as the truest sign of its liberal and\nenlightened management. Not only the three R's to the extent of\npractised elocution, caligraphy worthy of the old minute books of the\nfirst scrivening secretaries, and the lower mathematics,--but history,\ngeography, the elements of physical science, French, drawing, and vocal\nmusic, are among the subjects thoroughly studied. It only needs a\nperusal of the reports of the educational inspectors and examiners to\nsee that the work of this great hive goes on healthily. The boys have\nalready achieved a great position in taking Government prizes for\ndrawing at South Kensington; and the girls are celebrated for their\nbeautiful needlework. There is but little time to walk through all the\ndepartments of this great home--the kitchens with their spacious\nlarders, and store-rooms, and mighty cooking apparatus; the great airy\nplaygrounds; the large and handsome room used as a chapel (for those who\ndo not go out to evening service), and containing its convenient reading\ndesk, and sweet-toned organ. Let us not forget, however, that many of\nthe things which add so vastly to the beauty and completeness of the\nbuilding and its various departments are themselves gifts from loving\nand appreciative supporters of the Institution.\n\nBut we are due at that Lilliput village on the brow of Hornsey\nRise--that series of cottage homes, where, on each lower and upper\nstorey, with their exquisitely clean nursery cots and cradles, and their\ntiny furniture, a neat nurse is to be seen like a fairy godmother, with\na family of chubby babies, or a more advanced charge of infants able to\nrun like squirrels round the covered playground or to spend the\nregulation hours in that great glorious school-room, where learning is\nturned into recreation, and lessons are made vocal, gymnastic,\nzoological, picturesque, or even fictional, as the times and\ncircumstances may dictate. \"The Alexandra Orphanage for Infants\" has\nbecome so well-known amidst the numerous institutions which have been\nestablished for the care of the orphans and the fatherless, that one\nmight think it would be full of eager admirers who on visiting days go\nto see the two or three hundred. Why are not all the cottages full, and\neach little toy bedstead complete with its rosy, tiny sleeper, who, from\nearliest infancy to the maturer age of eight years form the assembly for\nwhich Mr. Soul set himself to provide by public appeal?\n\nThese, then, are the two institutions to which that modest little\nconvalescent home in Harold Street, Margate, is a worthy appanage, and\nthey may well find support among those whose maxim it is to do with all\ntheir might what their hands find wants doing.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THEM THAT FAINT BY THE WAY._\n\n\nThere are perhaps few conditions demanding greater sympathy and more\nready aid than that of poor women who, from temporary sickness or the\nweariness that comes of hope deferred, are unable to follow the\nemployments, often precarious and yielding a bare subsistence, by which\nthey strive to be independent of charitable aid. It is only those who\nknow to what extremities of need they will submit for shame of making\ntheir poverty known, and what mental suffering they will endure as they\nfind their scanty savings dwindling day by day, and their few household\ngoods, or even their clothing, and the little family mementoes, which\nthey can only part with as a last resource, going piece by piece, who\ncan fully realise all that is meant by the genteel phrase, \"very reduced\ncircumstances,\" as applied to women of refined feelings, and frequently\nof gentle nurture, who find themselves without the means of obtaining\nnecessary food and medical care when health and strength give way, and\nthey can no longer work at those few callings by which they can earn\nenough to enable them to avoid a dreaded \"application to friends.\"\n\nQuite lately, the subject of some kind of provision for poor governesses\nwho are sick, or have to subsist during long holidays on the small\nbalance of their quarterly wages, has occupied public attention, and it\nwould be well indeed if means could be found for giving the healthy\ntemporary employment, and the weakly a quiet home where their strength\nmight be restored without the sacrifice of independence.\n\nThere are others, however, for which such help is equally needed--the\ndressmaker, or the shop-woman, on whom long hours of tedious and often\nof exhausting toil in an unhealthy atmosphere, has begun to tell too\nseverely; the servant of good character and respectable habits, who is\nnot so ill as to be admitted to a hospital, and yet is breaking down in\nstrength, and regards with dread the necessity for going into some\nobscure lodging, where her surplusage of wages will barely pay for rent\nand food during two or three weeks enforced idleness; the girl who has\nlearnt some ill-paid business, which affords her no more than a mere\ncontribution to the family funds, and leaves no margin for extra food or\nmedicine, or the fresh air that is as important as either.\n\nAny careful observer standing at the door of a general hospital, and\nwatching the throng of out-patients waiting wearily to see the doctor,\nwill be able to distinguish a score of cases for which a temporary rest\nwith wholesome food and the sympathy and loving-kindness that refresh\nthe soul would bring true healing.\n\nNo large establishment in the nature of a hospital or a refuge affords\nthe kind of help for such distress as theirs. They cannot be dealt with\nas occupants of wards; for they have either recovered from the actual\ncrisis of some serious disorder, or are pining in a depressed condition\nto which no definite name can be given to classify it for admission to\nany public establishment for the cure of disease. To many of them the\nidea of entering a large charitable refuge--and I know of none in London\nadapted to such needs as theirs--would be repulsive, as suggesting that\nhorror with which persons even of a lower grade regard the union\nworkhouse; what they need is a temporary home, and if ever the time\nshould come when a well-supported scheme for such a provision should be\nadopted, it will have to take the form of what is now known as the\n\"cottage system.\" Indeed, in hospitals, as well as in other large\ncharitable institutions, the defects of the old plan of maintaining a\ngreat number of adult persons in one vast building have been recognised.\nThe immense ward with its long rows of beds, the divided and necessarily\nconfusing duties of attendants, the ill-served meals at a great\ndinner-table where there is no possibility of escaping from a too rigid\nroutine, the depressing, not to say degrading, influence, resulting from\nthe loss of individuality, would make any vast institution for\nconvalescents or invalids far less effectual in its operation. I make\nthis reference only with regard to the probable inauguration of homes\nfor invalid women in or near London, and because I have just visited\none, which, although it is not on the cottage system, but is established\nin a rare old mansion of the period of Queen Anne, has yet the happy\ncharacteristic of being a family whose scanty means is largely increased\nby loving gifts, instead of an institution every corner of which bears a\nreminder that it is \"supported by charity.\"\n\nIn the pleasant airy High Street of Stoke Newington, and within a\nstone's throw of the famous Cedar Walk of Abney Park--that locality made\nfamous by the prolonged visit of Dr. Watts, who went to spend a week\nwith Sir Thomas Abney, and remained for the rest of his long blameless\nlife the honoured guest of the family--is the house I speak of, \"The\nInvalid Asylum for Respectable Females in London and its Vicinity,\"\nsuperintended by a ladies' committee, and with weekly visitors, and a\nmatron to carry on the practical work of the executive.\n\nThere is nothing remarkably picturesque, nothing very striking about\nthis home for thirty respectable invalid women employed in dependent\nsituations, to whom it affords a temporary asylum, widely differing from\nthe crowded receptacles for the sick in the metropolis. One of its\npeculiarities is, that the purity of the family circle is maintained, by\nthe fact that no patient is admitted without a certificate of conduct\nsigned by two housekeepers or by an employer, while her case is also\nrecommended by an annual subscriber or life governor; and there is a\nsense of repose and quiet confidence about the inmates which is\nparticularly suggestive of the care taken to recognise their individual\nclaims, and the interest which is manifested in them during the time of\ntheir sojourn.\n\nThis very quietude and sense of rest, and gradual renewal of health and\nstrength in a serene retreat is, in fact, the feature which attracts my\nattention. It is not too much to say that I am ready to attribute much\nof such influences to the fact that the institution was originally\nestablished by ladies representing the unobtrusive beneficent work of\nthe \"Society of Friends,\" and that the order and peace which is its\ndelightful characteristic, may in a great measure be traced to that\nfoundation. At any rate, these qualifications so identify it that I feel\njustified in regarding it to some extent as a worthy example of the\nmethod to be adopted in any institution, which, without being altogether\na free \"charity,\" takes only such a small sum from the patient or her\nfriends as suffices to keep away the degrading feeling of pauperism, or\nof utter dependence on the bounty of strangers. It is true that the\nprincipal life-governorships include the privilege of sending entirely\ngratuitous patients, but in ordinary cases the annual subscriber of a\nguinea recommends the case, and when the patient is admitted, the sum of\ntwenty shillings is received for the month's medical attendance,\nlodging, and full board, \"including tea and sugar,\" for a time not\nexeeding one month, after which, should the case require a longer stay,\nthe ticket must be renewed by the same or another subscriber, on the\nfurther payment of twenty shillings. If the patient be in the employment\nof the subscriber, the payment of this sum will suffice, without the\nrenewal ticket, an arrangement which should commend the institution to\nevery benevolent employer of female labour.\n\nIt need hardly be said that no cases of infectious disease are admitted,\nand that every applicant is examined by the medical attendant. No\npatient is admitted who is not above ten years of age; and neither\n\"private cookery,\" nor the introduction of spirituous liquors by\nvisitors, is permitted, any more than gratuities to servants of the\nInstitution.\n\nIt may be remarked that though a large number of cases are received\nduring each year, the very fact of contributions being made by the\npatients themselves, who are thus relieved from the sense of utter\ndependence, appears to have prevented the Institution from receiving as\nlarge a degree of public support as it might command if it were an\nordinary charity. This is to be lamented, for the Institution is, after\nall, less a hospital than a temporary home, and it appeals on behalf of\na peculiar form of distress, the claims of which are of a specific and\nnone the less of a very urgent character. But in order to realise the\nkind of work that is most needed, and is here being accomplished, let us\npay a visit to the house itself. We have been hitherto standing on the\nbroad flight of steps inside the tall iron gates, and have hesitated to\nsully their hearthstone purity, for it is Saturday, and we may well have\nan inconvenient sense that the short hand of the clock is already close\nto the dinner-time of the institution.\n\nWith a long experience of paying unexpected visits, I am prepared to\nencounter remonstrance, even though it only take the form of a critical\nglance at my boots as a means of possible maculation of the\nnewly-cleaned hall and passages. Conscious of having judiciously\nemployed a member of the shoe-black brigade, I can endure this scrutiny,\nand, with a few words of explanation, am conducted, by the matron\nherself, over the grand old house, whose broad staircase and elaborately\ncarved balusters of black oak at once attest not only its antiquity but\nalso its aristocracy. I have already said that there is nothing here on\nwhich to found a \"picturesque description,\" and yet the air of repose,\nthe sense of almost spotless cleanliness, the freshness of the large\nlofty rooms containing from three to five or six comfortable beds with\ntheir snowy counterpanes, the general order and pleasant seclusion, are\nremarkably suggestive of the intention of the place. Two of the\npatients, to whom I make my respects, are not yet sufficiently recovered\nto join the daily dinner-party in the neat dining-room. One of them, an\nelderly lady, who has only just been brought here, is slowly recovering\nfrom very severe illness, and cannot even sit up in the bed, whence she\nregards me with an expression which seems to intimate that she has\nreached a haven of rest. Her companion, a young woman--also in bed in\nthe same room--is sitting very upright, cheerfully engaged in some\nproblem of needlework, and responds with a hopeful smile to the\ndeclaration of the matron, that they \"mean to make a woman of her if she\nis good.\"\n\nClose to this room is the neat lavatory with its bath, supplied with hot\nand cold water, and on the landing I note another bath, on wheels, for\nuse in any part of the house where it may be required. All the\naccessories are home-like; and in the invalid sitting-room, on an upper\nstorey, where two convalescents, not yet able to get downstairs, greet\nme from a pair of easy chairs, there is the same pervading influence\nwhich distinguishes the house from those large institutions where\neverything is characterised by a depressing mechanical dead level. The\nlibrary--a pleasant cheerful room--is in course of refurnishing; and I\nam glad to learn that our best known periodicals find a place there,\nwhile the stock of books, either gifts or loans, are likely soon to be\nreplenished, a matter wherein extra aid would be appreciated, and could\nreadily be afforded by those who have volumes to spare.\n\nAlready the cloth is laid in the dining-room, and dinner itself consists\nof hot meat with the usual accessories every day, except on Sundays,\nwhen there is a cold dinner, while, of course, the invalids who are\nordered medical diet have fish, custards, or other delicate fare\nspecially provided. Each patient has a pint of ale or beer daily, and\nwine as a remedial stimulant, according to the doctor's orders.\n\nThere is just time before dinner is served to walk through the room into\nthe grand old garden which extends from a pleasant sheltered lawn and\nflower-garden, with a glorious fig-tree in full leaf and fruit against\nthe sunny wall, to a great kitchen-garden and orchard, with a wealth of\nfruit and vegetables (and notably a venerable and prolific mulberry\ntree), and extending in a pleasant vista of autumn leaves. On the other\nside of the high wall is the Cedar Walk already mentioned; and the whole\nplace is so still and balmy on this autumnal day, that we may go away\nwith a very distinct appreciation of the rest and peace which, with\nregular nutritious food, rest, and medicine, may bring restoration to\nthe physical health, just as the hopeful ministrations of good and pious\nwomen who visit the home daily may bring a sense of peace and comfort to\nmany a weary spirit and burdened heart.\n\n\n\n\n\"_IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH._\"\n\n\nThere are some of whom we might be ready to say, they dwell in that\nvalley;--that the shadow of death lies darkling before them, constantly\nenwrapping them,--enshrouding them in gloom. We are accustomed to think\nso of persons suffering from what we call incurable diseases, some of\nwhich are painful, occasionally agonising, others susceptible of relief\nfrom the suffering that attends them.\n\nWe are so apt to forget that we are every one of us incurable. Though we\nmay not at present be aware of the disease that will bear us farther and\nfarther into that valley, where the wings of the great angel, so seeming\ndark as to overshadow all things, may yet be revealed to us as glowing\nwith the brightness of the light which our unaccustomed eyes cannot\nbehold, we are none the less certain to succumb to it. It may be that\nsome of us will live to be conscious of no other than the most fatal of\nall diseases--because no mortal cure has been or ever will be found for\nit--incurable old age. There have been those who lived long enough to\nlook calmly at the slowly lengthening shadow in the valley, and almost\nto wonder if Death had forgotten and were departing from them, leaving\nonly the black trail behind; but the time at last came, perhaps when\nthey had learnt to see more than shadow, to catch the glint of the\nheavenly glory beyond.\n\nIt is a happy thought that many poor afflicted children of God have seen\nthis too, and continue to see it daily, although, like St. Paul, they\nalso die daily. It is comforting to believe that many who know what\ntheir disease is--who are pronounced to be \"hopelessly incurable\" in a\nrather different sense to that in which we may all be declared to be\nhopelessly incurable also--do not dwell perpetually in the Valley of the\nShadow. Christ has come to them and taken them out of it, that even in\nthis life, where He is they may be also, secure in the love of the\nFather, having already, if one may so speak, overcome death through Him\nwho is the Resurrection and the Life. The great, the essential\ndifference between these sufferers and the rest of mankind is that they\nare almost always conscious of the disease which is incurable because of\nits accompanying pain, and that they are disqualified for many of the\nordinary uses, and also most of the ordinary enjoyments of life. Perhaps\nthe chief poignant sense of their condition is that they are no longer\ncapable of fulfilling the ordinary duties of life either. They must be\ndependent always; and to many souls the suspicion that they may live\nonly to be a burden on others, to take instead of giving, to lean upon\ninstead of supporting, is itself almost intolerable, until they learn to\nlook higher, and acknowledge that not only all the things of the world,\nbut we ourselves, they and theirs, belong to God, and that life and\ndeath, height and depth, principalities and powers, are but His\ncreatures, incapable of separating us from His love. The same\nreflection, coupled with that of our own incurability and our own\nconstant liability to be stricken down with hopeless and painful malady,\nshould surely lead us to recognise the duty of helping some among the\nthousands who have not only lost health, but with it the means of\nmaintaining life, and, more sadly still, the hope of restoration to\nformer strength, or even temporary recovery.\n\nI have already spoken of the work done by convalescent homes and\nhospitals; but there are those who, being sick unto death, yet do not\nsoon die--those who must be discharged from hospitals uncured, in order\nto make room for the curable, and who, unable to work, unaccustomed to\nbeg, and almost ready to meet death itself rather than sink into sordid\nabject pauperism, know not whither to turn in their dire necessity. It\nwas to aid these that an appeal was written twenty years ago, asking for\nfunds to establish an institution for the reception of those suffering\nfrom hopeless disease. It is to see what has been the result of that\nappeal that I visit the Royal Hospital for Incurables at Putney Heath\nto-day.\n\nIt was in 1854 that Doctor Andrew Reed--to whose indicating hand we are\nindebted for the installation of many of our noblest charities--made an\nurgent appeal on behalf of those who, being discharged as incurable from\nvarious hospitals, were left helpless, and often destitute, since,\namidst all the institutions which beneficence had founded, there was\nnone to which they could prefer a claim.\n\nLet us see what has been done in twenty years to alleviate what might\nseem to be almost hopeless suffering.\n\nLet us, coming face to face with the mystery of pain, and looking as it\nwere from afar on that dark shadow which yet always lies so near to\nevery one of us, note how in the heart of the mystery there is hidden a\njoyful hope for humanity, how in the very shadow of death there is a\nlight that never yet has shone on land or sea.\n\nIt is a still autumnal day, and, as we turn up the wooded lane on the\nleft of the hill leading from the Putney Railway Station to Wimbledon, a\ntender gleam in the grey clouds betokens coming rainfall. A light,\nhanging drift descends upon the distant hills, and breaks into pale\nvaporous shapes amidst the wooded slopes and valleys. The yellow leaves\nthat strew the ground lie motionless, as though they waited for their\nlate companions to fall gently from the branches overhead and join their\nsilent company.\n\nComing into a broader roadway, and passing through the gate of a lodge,\nwe come almost suddenly upon a glorious sloping lawn, adorned with\ngoodly trees, worthy of the great building--meant for a ducal residence,\nand now put to nobler uses--which, for all its stately look, has about\nit a home-likeness that is full of promise. Even the matchless landscape\nlying around it--the expanse of wood and dale, the soft slopes of Surrey\nhills, the deep-embowered glades where the bronze-and-gold of moving\ntree-tops takes a changeful sheen from slowly-drifting clouds, or\nreflects strange gleams of colour from the glistening silver of the\nrain--will not hold us from the nearer glow of windows bright with\nflowers, which give a festal look to the place, although it is so quiet\nthat we stand and imagine for a moment what it is that we have come to\nsee. For this great mansion, with its long rows of windows and\nwide-spreading wings, is the home of a hundred and fifty-four men and\nwomen, some of whom have been suddenly stricken down, others having\nslowly fallen day by day into a condition of incurable disease, and, in\nmany cases, also into a condition of utter bodily helplessness. They,\nand the attendants whose constant kindly services are essential for\ntheir relief, constitute the family of what is known, plainly enough, as\n\"The Royal Hospital for Incurables.\" There are no distinctions among its\nmembers, though in their previous lives they have belonged to various\ngrades--no distinctions, at least, except those which arise from\npersonal qualifications.\n\nThe claim for election to the benefits of the charity is the necessity\nwhich is implied in the name of the institution itself: and once within\nits sheltering walls the patients, whose failing eyes brighten, and\nwhose wan cheeks flush with every loving mention of it as their home,\nare all alike sharers in its benefits.\n\nNot only the 154 at present within its walls, however, but 327 of those\nwho, having family and friends with whom to dwell, receive pensions of\n\u00a320 a year each, and so cease to be a heavy burden to others.\n\nDo you think at first sight, and from the external appearance of the\nbuilding, that charity here has gone beyond precedent in providing such\na place--a palatial pile standing amidst scenery that one might well\ncome far to see? Remember what is the need of those who have to be\nlifted out of the dark, hopeless depths of what is almost despair; of\nthose who, finding themselves banished from hospital wards, unable to\nearn their bread, feeling themselves a burden upon those for whom they\nwould almost consent to die rather than live upon their poverty; of\nthose who, in the midst of hourly pain, have the mental anguish of\nknowing that the long calendar of darkening days may find them utterly\ndependent on the toil of others most dear to them, and whose few\nexpedients can bring little ease, and will not serve to hide the\never-present sense of disappointment and distress.\n\nThink how much wealth is wasted daily in the world, and what a small\npart of it suffices to lighten by every available means the burden of\nsuch lives as these; the sorrow of those who, in the dreadful\ndeprivation of what to us seems almost all that makes life dear, have no\nresource between that provided for them in such a place as this and the\ninfirmary-ward of a workhouse, amidst sordid surroundings and the hard,\nmechanical, unfeeling officialism which in such cases is little more\nthan organised neglect.\n\nThere are people who would reduce all charitable institutions--yes, even\nsuch as this, of which living personal interest and the care that comes\nof more than merely casual benevolence are the very foundation and\ncorner-stone--to a dead level of official rule, in which benevolence\nshould be represented by a mechanical department, and the sentiment of\ncharity by a self-elected board of control, dealing with public\nsubscriptions as though they were a poor-rate, and recognising neither\nindividual interest nor the right of contributors to give it expression.\nSuch a system would lack the very qualification most needed here, and to\nbe found only in that voluntary personal interest that brings to the\nrecipients of bounty more than the mere bounty itself, the heart-throb\nof sympathy, the feeling that the gift means more than the cold official\nrecognition of a national duty, that it is the expression of\nloving-kindness ever active and living; and so making for the helpless,\nthe destitute, and the dying, not a mere asylum, but a home.\n\nThe entrance into the hall of a cheerful, genial gentleman, with a\nkindly, brisk manner, and a reassuring expression of deliberation and\nrepose in his observant face and easy bearing, rouses us from melancholy\nfancies, and with a few words of courteous welcome we are at once\nconducted to the door that is to open to us the first scene in this\nwonderful visit.\n\nA spacious assembly room--let us call it by the good old name of\n\"parlour,\" for there is much quietly animated talk going on--talk, and\nneedlework of all kinds, from the knitting of a warm woollen shawl to\nthe manipulation of delicate lace, and the deft handling of implements\nfor making those exquisite tortures of society known as antimacassars.\nWith ever so wide an experience of halls, salons, suites, or\ndrawing-rooms, the visitor can see nothing resembling this wonderful\nparlour elsewhere. A room of noble proportions, one end of which is\noccupied by an organ; the great windows reaching almost from floor to\nceiling, and overlooking a broad expanse of lawn, with a glorious view\nof hill and woodland beyond; on the tables flowers, books, ornaments; in\nevery kind of couch and chair--many of which are comfortable beds on\nwheels and springs--a company of women, with bright, cheerful,\nintelligent faces, full of a recent interest, and, even in cases where\nsome paroxysm of pain is passing, with a certain serene satisfaction\nwhich it is infinitely good to see.\n\nThere has been a morning service, conducted by a visiting clergyman, and\nthere is a general expression of approval which, if the reverend\ngentleman himself were present to witness it, would surely prove highly\ngratifying. The congregation has settled down to easy talk, and has\nresumed its occupation of plain and fancy needlework. Here is an old\nlady whose silver hair adds to her natural grace and dignity, who is\nbusy with wool-knitting, and at the same time engages in a\ndiscriminating criticism of the address to one of the many visitors who\nsit and spend an hour of their afternoon in agreeable chat. There is a\npretty but rather sad-eyed _mignon_ lady, whose excellently-fitting silk\ndress, delicate hands, and general \"niceness\" of appearance, quite\nprepare us to see the beautiful examples of all kinds of fancy work of\nwhich she never seems to tire. Every year, in June, they hold a grand\nbazaar at the hospital, so that those who are skilful and capable are\nable to earn enough money to clothe themselves as they please--everything\nexcept clothing being found by the charity, except to two or three\ninmates who are able to pay for their own maintenance. Now we hear the\nlow tones of cheerful talk, the pleasant ripple of laughter--note the\nbrightening glance, the quick smile, the feeble but earnest finger-clasp\nwhich greets the cheerful salutation of the house governor, Mr.\nDarbyshire, or the presence of his wife, the lady matron of this great\nhappy family of incurables, we begin to wonder at our gloomy estimate of\nthe place before this visit.\n\nNor is the revelation of cheerfulness, of light in shadow, less\nremarkable in the dormitories themselves. But then what rooms they are!\nEach bed is, as it were, set in an alcove of its own snow-white\nhangings, relieved by bits of colour which would delight an artist's\neye--pieces of embroidery, framed illuminated texts, bright flecks of\nBerlin woolwork, or glistening designs in beads, or deep glowing\nknick-knacks wrought in silk and lace. Each little bedside table, though\nit may hold medicine and diet--drink and requisites for the sick--is\ndecked with flowers and little framed pictures, gaily-bound books, and\nbright-hued toys and trifles, that make it look like a miniature stand\nat a fancy fair. In some cases the sense of combined purity and glow of\ncolour is so great, that it is difficult to realise that we are in one\nor other of a series of sick-rooms. Everything is so spotless, so\nexquisitely clean and orderly, that nothing less than perfect nursing\ncould explain it--for be it remembered that the place is open to\nvisitors every day--and amidst some of the most terrible afflictions\nfrom which humanity can suffer there is nothing revolting. Expressions\nof pain and of utter prostration and weakness there are, of course; but\neven these are only alternative with the general placid contentment and\nthankfulness that is the prevailing characteristic.\n\nEven in two severe cases of cancer the terrible effects of the malady\nare less notable, because of the surrounding conditions. A sprightly and\nengaging girl, with features and social life alike marred and\nobliterated by this dreadful malady, is surely one of the saddest of all\nthe sad sights in such an institution; but here the brightness and\ngenial influence of the place, and of those who are its ministrants,\nhave had their effect, and even the half-obliterated features gain a\ngrateful, loving, cheerful expression; the poor eyes beam with pleasure\nas the governor starts some reminiscence of that pleasant summer\nwater-party of his, in which one of the two sufferers had to be carried\nto the boat in his arms, and both of them, deeply veiled, were rowed by\nthose same guarding arms for a glorious voyage on the river, where the\nsummer's sunshine and gladness stole into the hearts of the sufferers,\nand left a halo of remembrance that is not perhaps so very far from the\nanticipations of that stream which maketh glad the children of God.\n\nHere are rooms wherein only two or three beds are placed, while few of\nthem contain more than six, but all of them are bright, airy, lofty,\nfull of space, and with the same sense of purity. And from every window\nsome fresh and lovely view of the surrounding landscape, with all its\nchangeful aspects, may be seen--the beds being so placed that every\npatient has her own special expanse of territory to solace her waking\nhours, even though she be unable to go down to the assembly-room. Here,\nin a room particularly bright and cheerful, lies a young woman with a\nwealth of dark hair on the pillow where her intelligent face beams with\na certain courage, although her body and limbs have been for years\nimmovable--only one arm, for an inch or two, and three fingers of the\nright hand, can be stirred--and yet, as we stand and talk with her, some\nsmall simple jest about her own condition causes her to laugh till the\nbed shakes. She has learnt to write by holding a pencil in her mouth,\nand inscribes neat and legible letters on paper placed on a rest just in\nfront of her face. She is not only cheerful, but actually hopeful,\nthough she has been for years in this condition; and her relations,\ngreat and small, visit her, to find her always heartily determined to\nlook on the bright side. At the foot of her bed, near the window, is a\nswing looking-glass on a pedestal, and in this she sees reflected the\ndistant prospect of autumn wood and field, extending miles away. Judging\nfrom her nobly equable and smiling face, she must be the life of the\nroom of which she has been so long an occupant. In another apartment a\npoor schoolmistress suffering from hemorrhage of the lungs lies reading\nfor many hours a day, her face bearing a painful expression, her manner\neager, her constant craving to work on, by the study of books concerning\nthe problems of this earthly life and the sciences that strive to\ndemonstrate them and yet only bring us to the barrier of the eternal\nworld. She yearns for one more day amidst her classes, and for the\nopportunity of testing the results of sick-bed thoughts on a method of\neducation which should adapt itself to the individual temperament and\nmental peculiarity of each child. Amidst a troubled tide of thoughts\nthat are perhaps sometimes too much for the weary brain, she may learn\nto recognise the rest that comes after hearing the Divine voice say,\n\"Peace! be still;\" and so a great spiritual calm may fall upon her, and\ngive her rest.\n\nYet another visit, and we find a girl who, from an accidental fall, is\nas immovable as a statue, her dark questioning eyes and mobile face\nalone excepted. Yet she is sometimes lifted into a wheel-chair that\nstands stabled by her bedside, and joins the company in the great\nparlour downstairs. There is another little parlour, with quite a select\ncoterie, under the presidency of an elderly gentlewoman, who is busily\nknitting at a table, while her friends recline at the windows, on their\nspecial couches; and in several of the dormitories patients are sitting\nup, reading, working, or looking at the fitful aspect of earth and sky\non this October afternoon. Sufferers from heart-disease, with that\nanxious contracted expression so indicative of their malady, are\nnumerous; but the larger number of the patients seem to suffer from\nrheumatism, or paralysis--among them one lady, with silvered hair, and\nyet with bright expressive eyes, and still bonny face, who was once a\nwell-known singer in London. She is unable to rise from couch or bed,\nbut the readiness of repartee, the bright inquiring look, the quick\nappreciation and retort, remain, as do a certain swift expressive action\nof head and hands, which is marvellously suggestive of dramatic gesture;\nfor, happily, her hands and arms are still capable of movement, and she\nhas several periodicals on the coverlet--among them the latest monthly\npart of a magazine, in one of the stories in which she is evidently\ninterested. She, with two or three others, are inmates of the hospital\nat their own charges.\n\nWe have but little time to devote to the men's side of this great\ninstitution; but its dormitories and furniture, its large day-room,\nwhere daughters sit talking in low voice to fathers, sisters to\nbrothers, wives to husbands--its pleasant out-door contingent, who have\njust returned from slowly perambulating the grounds in wheel-chairs, or\nsit basking outside in the latest gleam of sunshine--its club in the\nrustic hut especially appointed for this purpose--all might bear\ncomment. Here is a sturdy youth, who, falling from a tree, and alighting\non his heels, incurably injured his spine, and now lies all day, mostly\nout of doors, and without a coat, frequently engaged in knitting. There\nis a poor gentleman, who has for sixteen years been almost immovable,\nfrom rheumatism, even his jaw being so fixed that he takes food through\nan aperture in the teeth. He has been through two or three hospitals,\nand under the care of the most eminent surgeons, and has come here now\nas to an ark of refuge, where he can read and talk, and be wheeled about\nthe neighbourhood on occasional visits. Only one case of all those that\nwe witness is startling in its melancholy sense of terrible loss and\nincurability; that rigid, grimly-set face, in the ward where the corner\nbed in which the grizzled head lies is the only one occupied this\nafternoon. The body belonging to that face is almost immovable--the ears\nare deaf, the tongue is mute, the eyes are nearly sealed--not by sudden\ncalamity, but by gradual yielding to decay or disease. He has been an\ninmate several years, and is the one case here before which we may\nalmost quail in our solemn sense of affliction; and yet, to the touch of\ncertain loving hands that dead face kindles; that mind, seemingly locked\nin stupor, wakes to life; that intelligence, encased in a casket\niron-bound and motionless, can understand the signs that are made upon\nhis own hands or forehead, and interpret them so as to give some kind of\ngrateful answer. It needs the touch of the lady nurse to bring out this\nstrange music from an instrument so unstrung; but that it should be done\nat all is an evidence of the hold that loving sympathy and some subtle\ninfluence almost beyond mere bodily capacity of expression has taken in\nthese dear souls of the sick and the afflicted. That is where the shadow\nlifts, even in the darkness of the valley; that is how the Spirit of\nChrist may abound; and the soul, in recognizing the work of the\ndisciple, may recognise the Lord therein, and remember the Living\nWord--\"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will\nfear no evil, for Thou art with me.\"\n\n\n\n\n\"_WITH THE HALT AND THE LAME._\"\n\n\nI suppose there are few people in England, who are at all accustomed to\nkeep Christmas amidst a loving family circle, who have not during the\nsacred festivities of the season, and all the household sentiments with\nwhich they are inseparably associated, made some reference to the\n\"Christmas Carol,\" that famous story of the great novelist whose\npresence in the spirit of his books has brightened so many a Christmas\nhearth, and moved so many gentle hearts to kindly thoughts and words of\nloving cheer.\n\nAmongst all the well-known characters to which Mr. Dickens introduced\nthousands of readers--characters who, to many of us, became realities,\nand were spoken of as though they were living and among our ordinary\nacquaintances--there have been none, except perhaps little Nell, who\nhave evoked more sympathetic recognition than Tiny Tim, the poor\ncrippled child of Bob Cratchit--the child, the sound of whose little\ncrutch upon the stair was listened for with loving expectation--the\nshadow of whose vacant chair in the \"Vision of Christmas,\" gave to the\nhumbled usurer as keen a pang as any sight that he saw afterwards in\nthat strange dream of what might come to pass. So completely do we share\nthe anxiety of Scrooge in this respect, that we can all remember giving\na sigh of relief when, at the end of the story, we learn that the poor\ncrippled boy remains to bless the fireside where even his afflictions\nwere felt to be a hallowing influence to soften animosities, and to draw\nclose the bonds of family love.\n\n\"Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself\" (says Bob Cratchit),\n\"and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming\nhome, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a\ncripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas-day\nwho made lame beggars walk and blind men see.\"\n\nIf I needed an excuse for so long an allusion to that pathetic story,\nwhich has stirred so many hearts throughout England, I might find it in\nthe passage I have just quoted; but I seek none. I refer to the\n\"Christmas Carol,\" because in it the figure of the crippled boy,\noccupying so small a space, yet is such a living, touching influence as\nto be one of the household fancies that associate themselves with our\nthoughts of Christmas-tide in poor homes; because there are so many\nlittle crutches the sounds of which are heard--though fewer than there\nused to be before _orthop\u00e6dic_ surgery became a special branch of study,\nand hospitals were founded for its practice; because, though Tiny Tim\nmay represent so many crippled children who are the helpless members of\npoor families, where they are tended with as kindly care as working\nfathers and mothers can find time for--there are hundreds of other\ndeformed or maimed lads whose lot is made the harder because of the want\nof sympathy and ready aid that would lift them out of utter\nhelplessness, or give them such light labour to perform as would\ndiminish their sense of dependence. Finally, because I desire you to\nbear me company to one place in London where this last need is\nrecognised, and where forty crippled boys, suffering from various\nincurable deformities, which yet have left them the use of their hands,\nare not only taught a trade, but are encouraged, fed, and nurtured for\nthe three years during which they are inmates of the home--\"The National\nIndustrial Home for Crippled Boys.\"\n\nAlighting from the railway carriage which conveys us from Mansion House\nStation to the pleasant old High Street of Kensington, we are close to\nthe place that we have come to see, for the building itself--a quaint\nold house, with a central doorway between two projecting deep\nbay-windowed fronts, and built of the reddest of red brick--stands at\nthe end of Wright's Lane, looking us full in the face as we approach it\nto read the style and title plainly painted across its upper storey.\n\nThe house has good reason for looking the world thus bluffly in the\nface, for it is an independent building, bought and paid for:\nhearth-stone, roof tree, and chimney, freehold, and without debt or\nmortgage. Till this was done, all thought of considerable extension was\nput aside. The question was how to provide, out of voluntary\nsubscriptions and contributions, for the fifty inmates who could be\nadmitted within those sheltering walls. It must be premised, however,\nthat ten pounds a year has to be paid for each boy who is accepted,\nduring the three years that he remains there, to be taught in the\nevening school and in the workshop, not only how to read and write and\ncipher, but to become a good workman at tailoring, carpentering, or\ndie-engraving and colour-stamping.\n\nThese are at present the only three trades taught in this truly\nindustrial home, but they appear to be very admirably suited to the\ncases of those who are deformed or crippled in various ways; and they\nare taught well, as an inspection of the work accomplished will prove.\nFor the workshops are real workshops, where the boys do not play at\nwork, but are taught their trades in a way that will enable them when\nthey leave the institution to gain a decent livelihood, or even, if they\ncan save a little money, to go into business for themselves.\n\nThis has been lately done, in fact, by two youths, who, having\nthoroughly learnt the relief-stamping process, have contrived to buy a\npress and the materials for their trade, and are now in partnership in a\ncountry town, and earning a respectable maintenance. Of sixteen lads who\nleft during the year, twelve were doing well as journeymen at the\nindustries they had learnt; one had set up in business for himself (the\nrelief-stamping gives the greatest facility for this); and two had\nreturned to their friends because of ill health, while one had not\nreported himself But during the same period forty of the former inmates\nhad been to visit the old home, and gave a very encouraging account of\nthemselves. Let us add, in a whisper, that amongst these visitors were a\n\"team\" of old boys who had come to accept the challenge of a \"team\" of\nthe new boys, to play a match at cricket. Yes, and that these teams of\ncripples have, over and over again, carried off their bats against\nopponents who, if they expected an easy victory, found themselves to\nhave been most amazingly mistaken. I don't think this is mentioned in\nthe Report, but it is well to know it, because it serves to prove how\ntruly beneficent a work is being done here, in removing boys from a too\noften almost \"hopeless\" condition to one of useful, intelligent, skilled\nlabour, and to healthy self-forgetfulness and association in the\nordinary duties and recreations of their fellows. It must be remembered\nthat every boy there is, in a certain sense, incurable. After having\nbeen nominated by the person willing to contribute the annual payment of\n\u00a310, the medical officers of the institution (or if in the country, some\nqualified practitioner) examine the candidate, who must be above twelve\nand less than eighteen years of age, and neither blind, deaf and dumb,\nnor without the use of his hands. The name of the candidate is then\nadded to the list of those waiting for admission--of whom there are now,\nunfortunately, above seventy--and when there is a vacancy, and funds are\nsufficient to maintain the full number of inmates, these candidates are\ntaken in succession, without voting, by order of the Committee of\nManagement, of whom the President is the Earl of Shaftesbury, and the\nHonorary Secretary Mr. S. H. Bibby, of Green Street, Grosvenor Square.\nThere is also an efficient Ladies' Committee for the household\nmanagement and for advising as to the education of the boys, the visits\nof the friends of the inmates, and the domestic affairs of the Home\ngenerally. There are some severe cases of deformity here--club-foot,\nspinal curvature, and various distortions of the legs--and in many cases\ninstruments are worn, but the Institution does not profess to provide\nthese. Frequently they are procured by special contributions, and among\nthe latest gifts of this kind is a serviceable wooden leg or two, which\nhave had the happy effect of relieving their recipients from the\nnecessity of using crutches; but it is distinctly insisted on that the\nHome is not a hospital, and is only curative in the sense of improving\nthe condition of those who, having been pronounced incurable, are yet\ncapable of greatly increased activity and strength by means of\nnourishing and regular food, interesting occupation, and healthy\nexercise with companions who themselves are to be numbered among the\nhalt and the lame, and yet are, in a very certain sense, made to walk\nand to leap and to praise God. For see, at the very moment that I am\nspeaking, a little figure darts out of the passage yonder and scampers\nacross the large open green space at the back of the house on his way to\nthe new range of workshops that are now nearly completed, and are also\npaid for. Is it possible to apply the term cripple to such an elf, who\nis out of reach before one can ask his name? Yes; that very elf-like\nlook is the result of a deformity which stops growth, though it leaves\nthe limbs as active as you see them. But come up-stairs to the first of\nthe present workshops, and you may note among the colour-stampers,\nsitting on their high stools before the dies and presses, cases of more\ndecided deformity or of crippling by accident. These boys follow an\nartistic, pretty business, and visitors may do worse than give a small\nor a large order for notepaper and envelopes, stamped with crest, motto,\nor quaint design. So well is the work executed, that the Home has orders\nconstantly in hand for the trade, and some of the dies are really\nbeautiful examples of engraving. I think that in this long pleasant\nupper room, with its high bench running along the window, fitted with\nthe presses and implements for the work, there are more severe cases of\ndeformity than will be seen in either in the tailors' department on the\nsame floor, or the carpenters' shop below. One reflects on the numerous\naccidents to which the children of the poor are liable, such as falls\ndown flights of stairs; to the inhuman neglect of old women who are paid\nas \"minders\" by mothers compelled to go out to work in neighbourhoods\nwhere no infant cr\u00e8che, no babies' cradle home, has yet been\nestablished, or in country towns where such institutions have scarcely\nbeen heard of. One remembers with pity the scores of poor little\ncreatures who have to nurse and tend children almost as big as\nthemselves, so that they and their charges too often become deformed\ntogether, the nurse with lateral curvature of the spine and the baby\nwith vertical curvature or with deformities of the feet or legs. One\nthinks, in short, of the many perils to healthy life and well-formed\nlimb that beset the children of the poor, and then coming back to the\nfigures of this _National_ Home, which yet, with careful management and\ndue economy, can only receive forty or fifty crippled boys--wonders how\nlong it is to be before the ruddy old house in Wright's Lane will expand\nits broad bosom and stretch out long arms on either side to embrace\nthree-score more lads, taken from present neglect and want and probable\nill-usage, to be fed and taught and nurtured for three years, during\nwhich the whole future will be changed for them, and their lives\nredeemed from the degradation that had threatened them just as their\nbodies expand with renewed health and strange developments of\nunsuspected strength, and their souls are lighted with hope and the\nsympathy of loving words and hearty manly encouragement.\n\nA beginning has been made already; for that munificent anonymous\nbenefactor, whose thousand-pound cheques have helped so many of our\ndeserving charities, showed his usual nice discrimination by taking a\nwalk in the direction of Wright's Lane. The result of this has been the\nerection of those long workshops which extend across one side of the\nwide green area, with its ornamental trees, at the back of the\nbuilding--an area which is a good part of the acre on which the property\nstands, and forms a capital recreation-ground, without quite leaving out\nof sight the pleasant kitchen-garden beyond, or the little building in\nthe further corner, which is intended as a cottage infirmary in cases of\nsickness. There are the workshops, quite ready for another contingent of\nlads, such as are now busily at work in the tailoring department, where\nthey are sitting on the board in the proper tailor-fashion, sewing away\nat one or other of the many private orders for gentlemen's clothes, or\n\"juvenile suits,\" which are the better appreciated because they _are_\nhand-sewn, instead of being made with that machine, at the end of the\nroom, to learn the working of which is, however, a necessary part of the\nmodern tailor's trade. Quite ready, also, for our friends the\nrelief-stampers, and for an additional crew of young carpenters to join\nthose who are now busy below amidst a fine odour of fresh deal and the\ncheery sound of hammer, chisel, and plane. One of our young friends of\nthe wooden legs--a strapping fellow of seventeen--is just deftly\nfinishing off a very attractive chest of drawers, which will only need\nto be taken to the painting and varnishing rooms that form a part of the\nnew building to be a very capital example of the workmanship of the\nestablishment. For it cannot be too strongly insisted on that the\ncustomers of the Industrial Cripples get value for their money, whether\nit be in ornamental stationery, in plain furniture, packing cases,\nboxes, and general carpentry, or in \"superfine suits\" to order, or \"own\nmaterials made up and repairs neatly executed.\" It is no sham industrial\nschool, but a real practical working establishment, and when the new\nbuildings are quite completed, and the dwelling-house has that other\nwing added to it, in order to provide proper dormitories and a\nschool-room, dining-room, and lavatory, at all in proportion to the\nnumber of boys who are waiting anxiously for admission----\n\nAh! but the question is, When shall this be? Not till another \u00a35,000 is\nadded to the funds, I am told--about as much money as is sometimes spent\nin some public display which lasts three or four hours, and going to\nlook at which probably half a dozen men, women, or children are lamed\nand crippled in the crowd. Judging from the present arrangements, with\nvery little room to spare, and a not very conveniently-adaptable space,\nthe money would be carefully spent; for there is no tendency to undue\nluxury, and the present household staff would still be sufficient for\nproviding meals and looking after the family needs of these robust and\nindependent young cripples. That it would be a work all the more\nbeneficial, because of this very independence with which it is\nassociated, it needs few arguments to prove; but, should reasons be\nasked for, let us take three cases for which the benefits of the Home\nare earnestly sought, and they will speak in suggestive accents of the\nneed of that extension for which an appeal is being made. I need not\ntell you the names either of those who nominate the cases or the boys\nthemselves; but be assured that the former would be sufficient guarantee\nof the need which it is sought to relieve:--\n\n No. 1.--\"The father is paralysed, and can do no work. The mother is not\n a very satisfactory person. Family consist of--\n\n  1. The eldest, a boy of twenty, who does odd jobs.\n\n  2. The cripple.\n\n  3. Boy, works, and gets 5s.\n\n  4. Boy, sells lights in the City.\n\n There are four little girls at home besides. The cripple is in a very\n wretched state from want of food, but he has the use of his hands.\"\n\n No. 2 (EDINBURGH).--\"Was never at school more than a year in his life,\n and never attended regularly two months together. He can neither read\n nor write, and has been neglected and often half-starved by his\n dissipated parents. His mother pawns everything she can get to buy\n drink, and the boy has little benefit from the wages he makes, which\n are about 5s. per week. Their house is miserably dirty, Mrs. ---- (the\n mother) being always drunk or incapable on the Saturday and Sunday. The\n boy works at Mr. B----'s Pottery, P----. He is honest and industrious.\n He is more miserable at home of late since he is left alone with his\n mother. It would be a great advantage to the boy if he could be\n admitted to the Industrial Home at Kensington, where he would be well\n trained, and where he would be quite beyond his mother's reach.\"\n\n No. 3 (recommended by a Clergyman).--\"Has been very regular at our\n school, and has been attentive and got on very well. His mother, a\n widow, lives with her sons, all of whom she has brought up well. She is\n an industrious, honest woman, and receives no help from the Board of\n Guardians excepting an allowance made for the maintenance of the\n cripple, and which, in case of his being accepted at the Home, they\n have promised to continue to pay for his maintenance. I may add that\n the Board, when he was called before them the other day, gave great\n praise to his mother for the cleanliness and respectability of his\n appearance.\"\n\nPoor, depressed, starved, neglected, hopeless crippled boys, how long\nwill it be before they come here for shelter, for hope, and renewal of\nlife? I should ask the question--though the answer could only be a\nguess--but I am suddenly diverted by the tremendous ringing of a\nhand-bell, on which one vigorous young cripple is ringing a peal, which\nis almost loud enough to announce to all Kensington that it is\n\"tea-time.\" The sound has the effect of bringing all the forty from\ntheir work--a contingent of young carpenters staying behind for a little\nwhile to dispose of some waste shavings which have been swept out of\nsome corner where they may have been in the way. Then they come trooping\ninto the big room, where they present so strange a variety of height and\nappearance, and also so remarkable a diversity of twist and lameness and\ndistortion, that we are impressed at once with the melancholy fact that\nevery boy there is in reality a cripple, and yet with the cheering\nreflection, inspired by some of the lively smiling faces, that there are\nvast mitigations of such afflictions--mitigations that come so near to\ncures as to make our neglect of them a very serious evil, when the means\nlie near at hand.\n\nIn this big room, which is neither dining-room, nor kitchen, nor\nrefectory, but a homely combination of all three, there is no ornament,\nno sign of luxury, or of unnecessary expenditure-plain deal forms or\nstools at plain deal tables, on which are arranged a regiment of\nfull-sized mugs of good sound tea, and plates, each containing a\nsubstantial half-pound slice of bread from a homely two-pound loaf,\nspread with butter or dripping. For breakfast the same quantity is\nprovided, with the substitution of coffee for tea; and dinner consists\nof a half-pound of roast or boiled meat, with plenty of vegetables, and\ndumplings, pies, or puddings; while bread and cheese, or bread and\nbutter, is served for supper. For it must be remembered that these are\nworking lads, and that they require to be substantially, and, from the\nnature of their bodily affliction, even generously fed, so that these\nsupplies of pure plain diet are not by any means excessive; and they are\nsuch as one very ordinary kitchen can supply--a kitchen, by the bye,\nwhich will probably be superseded by a more convenient one when the new\nwing shall be finished. Yet there is something in these unadorned, bare,\nalmost too plainly appointed places, which brings with it a reassuring\nconviction that the institution has never been pampered. The\ndining-room, which has to do duty for a school-room also--the play-room,\nwhich is a rather dim kind of retreat on this November evening--and the\nplain, rather bare, but still clean and airy dormitories (especially\nthose in the big bay-windowed front rooms of the old red brick house),\nare evidences that the place does not belie its name; that it is really\na home, but essentially an industrial home, where work goes on as part\nof each day's blessing, and the title to play freely and with a light\nheart is thereby ensured.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THEM WHO HAVE NOT WHERE TO LAY THEIR HEADS._\n\n\nThere is a degree of poverty which, while it is not absolute pauperism,\noften has deeper needs than those which are alleviated by parochial\nrelief--a destitution which is none the less bitter because those who\nsuffer it cannot stoop to actual mendicancy, and shrink from the\ndegradation of the casual ward and its contaminating influences.\n\nThose of us who at this season of the year are surrounded with comforts,\nand can meet together to enjoy them, should feel that there is no sadder\nphase of the life of this great city than that to which our attention is\ncalled by the statistics of those same casual wards, and the\naccompanying certainty that every night there are men, women, and\nchildren, who, amidst surrounding luxury and splendour, have not where\nto lay their heads, and for whom the repellent door of the nearest union\nworkhouse is closed, even if they could summon such courage as comes of\ndesperation, and dared to enter.\n\nHappily, the numbers of those who seek what is called casual relief have\ndiminished in proportion to the general abatement of pauperism; and it\nis perhaps encouraging to know that the applicants for nightly shelter\nat Refuges for the homeless and destitute are fewer than they were three\nor four years ago. This is a fact which should be made public, because\nsome of these Refuges have been accused of offering inducements to\ncasual paupers to seek food and shelter provided by charitable\nsubscriptions, instead of betaking themselves to the night-wards\nprovided for them at metropolitan workhouses. The complaint was made on\naltogether insufficient grounds, at a time when, during a hard winter,\nand with a fearful amount of distress among the poorest class of the\ncommunity, the workhouse night-wards themselves were frequently\ninadequate to the demands made upon them; while, apart from the persons\nwho were known as casual paupers, there were hundreds of unfortunates\nsuffering from temporary starvation and the want of a place in which to\nfind a night's lodging, who yet were altogether removed from what is\nknown as pauperism, and dreaded the abject hopelessness which they\nassociated with \"the Union.\"\n\nIt should not be forgotten, either, that the task which is, and was\nthen, imposed upon the pauper on the morning following his night's\nlodging and its previous dole of gruel and bread, renders it almost\nimpossible for the recipient to obtain work. Before his job of\nstone-breaking or oakum-picking is accomplished, the hour for commencing\nordinary labour outside the workhouse walls has passed, and his hope of\nresuming independent employment, and the wages that will provide food\nand lodging for the next four-and-twenty hours, has passed also. This\nalone is always sufficient to make a very marked distinction between the\nregular casual pauper and the temporarily unfortunate man or woman who,\nhaving failed to get work, and seeking only the aid that may give rest\nand strength for a renewed effort, might look in vain for succour but\nfor the existence of places like that admirable Institution to which I\nwish to take you to-night.\n\nThe shameful spectacle of groups, and, in many instances, of crowds, of\nhouseless, starving, and half-naked creatures huddled about the doors of\ncasual wards, to which they had been refused admission in direct\ndefiance of legislation, led to the establishment of Night Refuges.\nThere was then no time to dispute. While boards and committees were\nsquabbling and vilifying each other, the poor were perishing. But even\nnow that a better system prevails, and pauperism has so considerably\ndiminished, there is much necessity for the continuance of these\ninstitutions and their adaptation to the relief of that kind of distress\nwhich is all the more poignant because it is at present only temporary,\nbut would receive the brand and stamp of permanence if it could find no\nother mitigation than that secured by an appeal to workhouse officials,\nthe shelter of the casual shed, the union dole, and the daily task\nrequired in return.\n\nAt the time that Night Refuges were first founded, in consequence of the\nfailure of the Houseless Poor Act, there were one or two institutions\nwhich went on the plan of offering no inducement whatever to those who\nsought shelter within their walls. The provisions were barer, the beds\nharder, the reception little less cold and unsympathetic than they would\nreceive at any metropolitan union.\n\nThose of my readers who remember the Refuge for the Houseless Poor which\nonce stood in Playhouse Yard, close to that foul tangle of courts that\nstill exists between Barbican and St. Luke's, and is known as \"The\nChequers,\" will understand me when I say that there were no alluring\ninducements for the houseless and the destitute to seek its aid.\n\nI have seldom seen a more painfully suggestive crowd than that which\nwaited outside the blank door of that hideous building on a cold drizzly\nevening when I paid the place a visit, only a short time before it was\nfinally closed. I cannot deny, however, that the applicants for\nadmission consisted of those persons for whom the institution seemed to\nbe especially designed. The very lowest class of poverty, the\nrepresentatives of sheer destitution, made up the 350 men and the 150\nwomen who were to occupy the bare wooden bunks in the two departments of\nthe building that night, and to accept, as a stay against starvation,\nthe half-pound of dry bread and the drink of water. What I would call\nemphatic attention to, is the fact that this place was filled nightly at\nthat time, because the inmates could leave early in the morning to seek\na day's work, and so rise out of that depth of destitution which was\nrepresented by the nightly return to the casual ward. But let us\nremember that, though this Institution could scarcely be characterised\nby the warm name of \"charity,\" it received all applicants who were not\nsuffering from infectious diseases, and therefore its policy was\ndeterrent. In order to separate itself from the idle casual, it made its\nprovisions little short of penal, and, indeed, very far short of those\ncommon comforts that are to be found in prison.\n\nBut the Refuge in Newport Market was one of those which had been founded\non a different principle. It was never intended as a supplement to the\ncasual ward, or as having any relation to poor-law relief; though,\nduring the terrible distress that overtook the houseless in that severe\nwinter when our poor-law arrangements broke down utterly, it was\nimpossible for any place founded in the name of Christian love and\ncharity to be very particular in excluding famishing and frozen men and\nwomen on the suspicion that they had already somehow obtained parochial\nrelief the night before.\n\nThis \"Refuge\" was originally established by the influence and the\npersonal exertions of Mrs. Gladstone, and a few ladies and gentlemen\nwho, knowing of the extreme distress that prevailed in all that\npoverty-stricken neighbourhood about Seven Dials, around the\nalien-haunted district of Soho, and in the purlieux of Drury Lane, and\nthe courts of Long Acre, set about providing some remedy for the misery\nthat homeless, destitute men, women, and children had to suffer during\nthe bitter nights of winter. First, a regular mission was established in\nan ordinary room, and, after a time, space was secured to make a\nRefuge--first for six, then for ten, and afterwards for twenty of the\nmost destitute cases which came under the notice of the mission-woman.\nThis went on till the funds were sufficient to warrant a very earnest\ndesire to obtain larger premises, and at last to make a bid for that\nqueer ramshackle old slaughter-house, which was the rather too indicative\nfeature of the locality. The landlords of this place were fully alive to\nthe value of any property rising in proportion to the anxiety of somebody\nto become its tenant, and they demanded a high rent accordingly. Still,\nthe work had to be done, and the slaughter-house--cleansed, repaired,\nwhitewashed, and divided into several queer, irregular-shaped wards and\nrooms, which were reached by strange flights of steps and zig-zag\nentries--was opened with cheerful confidence and hope, under the earnest\nsuperintendence of the Rev. J. Williams, who was at that time incumbent\nof the parish of St. Mary, Soho. It was at that period that I first made\nacquaintance with the Institution, and with the quiet, undemonstrative\nwork of charity which was carried on there, and is continued to this\nday, though it is less arduous now that the neighbourhood itself has\nfelt the influence of such an organization--not so much in the\ndiminution of actual poverty, as in the humanising and constantly\nsuggestive presence of men and women who have brought a gospel to those\nwho were hopeless, and seemed to have none to care for them.\n\nThe need to receive numbers every night to the utmost limits of the\nInstitution has passed now, except occasionally during very severe\nweather; and though the cases admitted are still those where deep, and\nsometimes apparently almost fatal, misfortune is the claim, there is no\nlonger the urgency which forbade a too discriminating selection, and the\nregular casual stands no chance under the quick and experienced eye of\nthe superintendent, Mr. Ramsden, whose military tone and manner are, by\nthe way, modulated so as to carry the sense of detection to the\npretender, and to support and give courage to the weak and\nfaint-hearted.\n\nThe same complete, quiet method of receiving applicants who await\nadmission enables me to repeat the impression which I received during\nthe time that the demands upon the night Refuge were more urgent. The\nexperienced visitor who stands at the gate of this rehabilitated\nbuilding that was once the old slaughter-house, and who watches the\npeople go in one by one, and listens to their low-voiced pleas for food\nand shelter, cannot mistake them for casual ward cases. Just as, in some\nother Institutions, the pain of the spectacle is the degraded poverty of\nthose who seek aid, the most affecting element here is utter\ndestitution, without that _accustomed_ debasement which would find a\nfitting resource at the workhouse door, leading to the night shed.\n\nThese are broken-down men and women; old men beaten in the battle of\nlife, and full of present sorrow; young men who have fought and failed,\nor who have eaten of the husks, and seek occasion to rise to a better\nmind; middle-aged men not altogether crushed or hopeless, but in sore\nwant, and needing the sound of a kindly voice, the touch of a friendly\nhand; women who have lost youth and worldly hope together--women who,\nmore weak than wicked, and without resource, need some stay alike for\nfainting bodies and for wandering souls; women worn and hungry, because\nof the lack even of ill-paid work, and asking for rest and food till\nthey can seek employment: some who will go forth in the morning and set\nout afresh; others who, if they can secure two or three nights' lodging,\nwith a mouthful of food and drink morning and evening, have a good hope\nof doing better in the future.\n\nTo those who know how the demand for certain kinds of labour varies, and\nfrequently slackens towards the winter months, when need is sorest, this\nlatter most merciful provision comes with a sense of truest charity.\nTickets of admission are issued to friends and visitors of the\nInstitution (and any one may be a visitor who chooses to ring at the\nbell of the old slaughter-house), entitling the holder to admission\nafter the regular evening hour of half-past five to six, so that in\nbestowing one of these the judicious subscriber (not necessarily, but\nsurely from sympathy a subscriber) can be a true benefactor. For these\ntickets will admit the really deserving nightly for a week, with supper\nof bread and coffee or cocoa, or occasional savoury soup, and breakfast\nof bread and coffee. And even this time is occasionally extended, if\nthere be a reasonable prospect of obtaining work. Not only\nticket-holders, but every applicant, may have the same privilege, if it\ncan be shown that he or she is really likely to obtain employment. But\nthere is more than this. There are men here--truest of gentlemen, beyond\nthat social stamp of rank which rightfully belongs to them--who, with a\nreal, manly instinct, know how to take poverty by the hand without\noffensive patronage or untimely preaching. There are ladies who, in\ntheir true womanhood, can see the contrition in faces bowed down--the\nshame that is caused, not by evil doings, but by the feeling of dismay\nwhich comes of having to ask for charity--can sympathise with broken\nfortunes, with gentle nurture--cast upon a hard, relentless world, with\nthat poverty which is \"above the common.\"\n\nMore still. Among the supporters and the constant visitors are those who\ncan use special influence for cases that need it most, and obtain for\nthem admission to hospitals and other asylums, or introduce to\nsituations those who by sudden calamity have been deprived of the means\nof living.\n\nYes, even in their deepest need, poor, wandering, homeless women may\ncome here and find help, for in that large, lofty, yet warm and\nwell-lighted room, the women's dormitory--one side of which is composed\nof a series of niches where the comfortable beds are placed--there are\nto be seen a row of doors, which seem to belong to a series of cabins,\nas, indeed, they do. Each door opens into a small bed-room--small, but\nwith room for a chair, a tiny table, and the neat bed. They are the\nlodgings set apart for women, who, in the midst of their poverty and\ndestitution, are looking forward fearfully to the time when children\nwill be born to them, and so to a period of weakness, and of the sad\nmingling of maternal pity and desponding sorrow. Let me say, in one line\nfrom the Report, that last year eight young women were received into the\nRefuge some time before their confinement, were passed on to Queen\nCharlotte's Hospital, and were helped until such time as they were able\nto help themselves.\n\nI think the knowledge of this is so cheerful an instance of the value of\nthis most representative Refuge, that even the sight of the bright,\nwarm, glowing kitchen, with its great boiler of hot coffee, and its\nnoble kettle of soup occupying the jolly range, scarcely imparts an\nextra beam to the picture; while the long rows of white mugs, the\npleasant, clean, fragrant loaves, the big milk-cans, the courteous\n_chef_, who has a true and pardonable pride in his surroundings--no, not\neven the cosy, rug-covered berths and bunks in the dormitories, nor the\nquaint little corner-room to which I have to climb a crooked staircase\nto shake hands with the sister who is in charge, nor the equally quaint\nand cornery, not to say inconvenient, sitting-room of Mr. and Mrs.\nRamsden, who have left their tea unfinished to do the honours of the\nInstitution--can suggest to me a better word to say than that which is\nsuggested by the picture of the poor wandering, weary, fainting women,\nwho, almost in despair, not only for a real, but for an expected life,\ncome here to find rest and peace.\n\nStay; one word more. Who are the class of people for whom the Refuge\ndoors are ordinarily open? Let us see what were the most numerous cases\namong the inmates who during the year received 6,669 nights' lodgings\nand 16,889 suppers and breakfasts. Among the men \"labourers,\" of course,\nare most numerous; then discharged soldiers--poor fellows who have\nperhaps foolishly snatched at liberty when offered, and foregone the\nadvantages of re-engagement and a pension; next in numerical order come\n_clerks_--a very painfully suggestive fact, especially when read by the\nlight of the advertisement-columns of our newspapers, and the sad story\nof genteel poverty in that great suburban ring which encircles the\nwealthiest city in the world. Of house-painters there were 24; of\nservants, 21; of tailors, 13; of seamen, 8; and other callings were\nrepresented in remarkable variety, including 1 actor, 6 cooks, 1\nschoolmaster, 2 surveyors, and 1 tutor. Among the women, 199\nservants--show sadly enough the truth of the old adage, \"Service is no\ninheritance;\" while in numerical succession there were, 55 charwomen, 41\nlaundresses, 37 needlewomen, 31 tailoresses, 27 dressmakers, 26\nmachinists (alas! how many women still utterly depend on \"the needle\"\nfor a subsistence!), 24 cooks, 20 ironers, 16 field-labourers. There\nwere 4 governesses, 1 actress, 1 mission-woman, and 1 staymaker, the\nrest being variously described.\n\nFrom among these, 94 men and 193 women obtained employment, 77 women\nhaving been sent to Penitentiaries and Homes, while 18 were supported in\nthe Refuge or elsewhere by needlework, 13 were sent to their friends, 60\nobtained permanent work, and 14 girls of good character were sent to\nServants' Homes.\n\nBut I have left out one thing now. Among this great representative\ncompany of refugees were 60 children, of whom 37 were sent to nurse or\nto school, while those who were old enough---- Well, just listen to that\nburst of military music in a distant upper-room of the old\nslaughter-house. I must tell you something about the Newport Market boys\nin another chapter.\n\n\n\n\n_TAKING IN STRANGERS._\n\n\nYes; listen to that startling clangour of military music coming from an\nupper room. We are standing, you know, in the cheerful kitchen of that\nRefuge for the Homeless in the renovated old slaughter-house in Newport\nMarket, and I want you to come with me to see the boys' school, which\noccupies a very considerable portion of that weatherproof but ramshackle\nbuilding.\n\nOnly those who are acquainted with the poverty and the crime of this\ngreat metropolis can estimate the deep and urgent need that still exists\nfor refuges in which homeless, destitute, and neglected children can be\nreceived for shelter, food, and clothing. Only the practical student of\nthe effect of our present administration of the Education Act can\ncalculate how vast a necessity is likely to exist for the reception and\ninstruction of the children of the poorest, even when all the machinery\nof the present School Board is put in motion for vindicating the\ncompulsory clause.\n\nLet that clause be interpreted in the most liberal manner--which would\nbe in effect to provide State education without cost to the parents--and\nthe Act will still leave untouched a vast number of children for whom\nnothing can be done until their physical necessities are provided\nfor--children who are perishing with cold, starving for want of food. A\nvisit to some of the big buildings recently erected by the London School\nBoard will reveal the fact that there are many such children now in\nattendance; neglected, barefoot, half-clothed, hungry, and with that\nwistful eager look, sometimes followed by a kind of stupefaction, which\nmay be observed in the poor little outcasts of the streets. There is no\nreasonable hope of doing much with these little creatures till the\n\"soup-kitchen\" and the \"free breakfast\" are among the appliances of\neducation, where the necessity is most pressing, and the children perish\nfor lack of bread as well as for lack of knowledge.\n\nAs it is--I need not refer again to the escape which is always open from\nthe streets to the prison. The few Government industrial-schools to\nwhich magistrates occasionally consign young culprits brought before\nthem are intended only for those who come within the cognisance of the\nlaw.\n\nThe operations of these reformatory-schools are successful so far as\nthey go. They represent seventy-five per cent. of successful reformatory\ntraining as applied to juvenile transgressors committed by magistrates\nto their supervision.\n\nPerhaps, when we are fully impressed with the meaning of the statistics\nwhich are published each year in the Report of the Inspectors of\nCertified Schools in Great Britain, we shall begin to consider how it\nwill be possible to regard destitute children in relation to the\nguardianship of the state _before_ they qualify themselves for\nGovernment interposition by the expedient of committing what the law\ncalls a crime.\n\nThe last Report states distinctly that the sooner criminal children are\ntaken in hand, the more complete is their reformation. There are fewer\n\"criminals\" of less than ten years of age than there are hardened\noffenders of from twelve to sixteen. This is, so far, satisfactory; but\nwhen we consider that (including Roman Catholic establishments) there\nare but fifty-three reformatories in England, and twelve in Scotland\n(thirty-seven of those in England and eight in Scotland being for boys,\nand sixteen in England and four in Scotland for girls), and that in\n1873, when the Report was issued, the sum-total of children in all these\ninstitutions was but 5,622, of whom one-fourth were in the Roman\nCatholic schools--we cease to wonder at the vast number of homeless,\nneglected, and destitute children in London alone--a number which,\nnotwithstanding the efforts of philanthropy and the activity of School\nBoard beadles, exceeds the total of all the inmates of the State\nreformatories throughout the kingdom.\n\nThis refuge at Newport Market had included destitute and starving boys\namong those who were brought to its shelter from the cruel streets, the\ndark arches of railways and of bridges, and the miserable corners where\nthe houseless huddle together at night, long before its supporters could\nmake provision for maintaining any of the poor little fellows in an\nindustrial-school. But the work grew, and the means were found, first\nfor retaining some of the juvenile lodgers who came only for a night's\nfood, and warmth, and shelter, and afterwards for receiving them as\ninmates.\n\nSome of these are sent to the Refuge by persons who are furnished with\nprinted forms of application, or by mothers who can afford evident\ntestimony that they can scarcely live on the few shillings they are able\nto earn by casual work as charwomen, or by the no less casual\nemployments where the wages are totally inadequate to support a family;\nwhile a few lads have themselves applied for admission because they were\norphans, or utterly destitute and abandoned by those on whom they might\nbe supposed to have a claim.\n\nA portion of the old building, which has been adapted to the purpose,\nand has been added as the need for increased space became pressing, is\nnow devoted to the dormitories, play-room, and school-room of some fifty\nto sixty of this contingent of the great army of friendless children;\nand at the time of the last Report fourteen had but just left to be\nenlisted in military bands; two had become military tailors; situations\nhad been found for others; while one had been regularly apprenticed to a\ntailor in London.\n\nThere are frequently several boys ready for such apprenticeship, for\ntailoring is the only regular trade taught, the time of the lads being\noccupied in learning to read, write, and cipher, to acquire the outlines\nof history and geography, and to take a place in the military band which\nis at this moment making the cranky old building resound with its\nperformance on clarinets, hautboys, cornets, \"deep bassoons,\" and all\nkinds of wind instruments, under the direction of an able bandmaster,\nwho keeps the music up to the mark with a spirit which bespeaks\nconfidence in the intelligence of his pupils.\n\nThis confidence is not misplaced, for during the past year eleven\nyouthful recruits have been drafted from among these boys into the bands\nof various regiments, while there are above ninety applications still on\nthe books for more musicians who have chosen this branch of the military\nservice. It is a matter of choice, of course; and there are some who\nprefer to become sailors, or to go into situations and learn the trade\nof tailoring, that their instructors may be able to recommend them to\nrespectable masters as apprentices.\n\nBut let us walk through the kitchen, and ascend the short zig-zag stairs\nwhich lead us by a passage to the school-room, where most of the boys\nare at work with their slates. Very few of the little fellows are more\nthan thirteen years old, and some of them have been but a short time at\nschool; but even those who came here totally uninstructed have made\nadmirable progress, and some of the writing-books containing lessons\nfrom dictation are well worth looking at for their clean and excellent\npenmanship and fair spelling; while in arithmetic the boys who have been\nlongest under tuition have advanced as far as \"practice.\" There is\nnothing superfluous in school-room, work-room, or play-room--indeed, one\nmight almost say that they are unfurnished, except for desks and forms\nand plain deal tables. The play-room is a lower portion of the old\nslaughter-house, with a high ceiling, to a beam in which is fixed a pair\nof ropes terminating in two large wooden rings by which the youthful\ngymnasts swing and perform all kinds of evolutions, while a set of\nparallel bars are among the few accessories.\n\nIt is evident that nothing is spent in mere ornament, and that the\nexpenditure is carefully considered, though recreation, and healthy\nrecreation too, is a part of the daily duty, which is regulated in a\nfashion befitting the rather military associations of the place. Even\nnow, as the cheery superintendent, Mr. Ramsden, who was lately\nquartermaster-sergeant of the 16th Regiment, calls \"Attention!\" every\nboy is quickly on his feet and ready to greet us; and what is more, the\nboys seem to like this kind of discipline, for it is kind in its prompt\ndemand for obedience, and the regularity and order includes a kind of\nself-reliance, which is a very essential part of education for lads who\nmust necessarily be taught what they have to learn in a comparatively\nshort time, and are then sent out where order and promptitude are of the\nutmost service to them. Economy is studied, but the recollection of the\ncheery kitchen suggests that there is no griping hard endeavour to\ncurtail the rations necessary to support health and strength. In fact,\nthe boys are sufficiently fed, warmly clothed, and are encouraged both\nto work and play heartily. Breakfast consists of bread and coffee;\ndinner of meat and vegetables three days in the week, fish on one day\n(Wednesday), pudding on Monday, soup on Friday, meat and cheese on\nSaturday; tea or coffee with bread and dripping, while on Sundays butter\nis an additional luxury both at breakfast and tea; and on Thursdays and\nSundays tea is substituted for coffee at the evening meal. All the boys\nare decently and warmly clothed, and though only some of their number\n\"take to music\" as a profession, and choose to go into the military\nbands, they all receive instruction. They are taught to keep their own\nbunks and dormitories neat, and, in fact, do their own household work;\nwhile, morning and afternoon, personal trimness is promoted by the\nmilitary \"inspection\" which is part of the discipline. There is half an\nhour's play after breakfast, another quarter of hour before dinner,\nthree-quarters of an hour for \"washing and play\" after dinner, a quarter\nof an hour before tea, and from an hour and a half to two hours for\nboot-cleaning and play before bed-time, besides out-door exercise daily,\nexcept in wet weather, when drill and gymnastics take its place. They\nalso go to Primrose Hill on Tuesday and Saturday afternoons, there to\nrun in the fresh air and disport themselves in cricket, or such games as\nthey can find the toys for, by the kindness of the committee or generous\nvisitors. Even with these recreations, however, they find time to go\nthrough a very respectable amount of work in the fourteen hours between\nrising and bed-time; and the letters received from lads who have left\nthe school are an evidence that they remember with pleasure and with\ngratitude the Refuge that became a home, and to which they attribute\ntheir ability to take a place which would have been denied to them\nwithout the aid which grew out of pity for their neglected childhood.\n\nHere is a short epistle from one of the juvenile band, at Shorncliffe\nCamp, written a year or two ago:--\n\n \"I now take the pleasure of writing these few lines and I hope all the\n boys are all well, and all in the school and please Mr. Ramsden will\n you send me the parcel up that I took into the school it was laying in\n the bookcase in the school-room and I hope that all the boys are all\n getting on with their instruments and the snips with their work and I\n should like you to read it to the boys and I wish that you would let\n ---- answer it and I am getting on with my instrument very well, and I\n will be able to come and see you on Cristamas season.\"\n\nThis is a characteristic schoolboy letter, which shows how much boys are\nalike in all grades. The following is another letter from Shorncliffe:--\n\n \"Dear Sir,\n\n \"I received your kind and welcome letter along with mothers, and I\n wrote back to tell you we have all been enlisted and sworn in, and we\n expect to get our clothes next week and we all feel it our duty to\n express our deeply felt gratitude to you Mr. Dust and the Committee,\n and we are all very happy at present please give our respects to Mrs.\n Ramsden Sister Zillah Mr. McDerby Mr. Mason Mr. Goodwin Miss Cheesman\n and please remember us to all the boys. Leary is on sick furlough since\n the 15th of Decr. and has not returned yet and Brenan, Lloyd Graham\n McCarthy Henderson and all the others are very jolly at present and\n been out all the afternoon amongst the snow. So I conclude with kind\n thanks to one and all and believe me to be Dear Sir\n\n \"Your late pupil ----\n\n \"Band ---- Regt.\"\n\nThe following will show how the memory of the old slaughter-house and\nthe school in Newport Market remains after the boys have left and have\nentered on a career. It is addressed from Warley Barracks:--\n\n \"Dear Sir\n\n \"I now take the opportunity of writing to you hoping you and all the\n rest of the school and the sister also. It is a long time since I left\n the school now and I dont suppose you would know me if I was to come\n and see you I was apprenticed out off the school along of J---- R----\n to Mr W---- in 1869 I think it was as a Tailor. I should like you to\n write and tell me if you know what rigment J---- H---- belong to his\n school number was 34 and mine was 35 me and him was great friends when\n we were in the school and I should like to know very much were he is.\n When I left the School Mr. L---- was Supperintendant and I dont suppose\n I should know you sir if I was to see you I shall try to come down and\n see the School if I can on Christmas for I shall be on pass to London\n for seven days and I should like to know where J---- H---- is so as I\n should be able to see him. I have a few more words to say that is the\n school was the making of me and I am very thankful to the school for it\n so with kind love to you all\n\n \"I remain your humble servant,\n \"Band ---- Regiment,\n \"Warley Barracks, Essex.\n\n \"J---- H---- number was 34 and mine was 35.\n\n \"Excuse me addressing this Letter to you as I dont know anything about\n you sir.\"\n\nThere is something pleasant indeed in letters like these; and I for one\nam not surprised that the boys should go to their musical practice with\na will.\n\nThey are just preparing to play something for our especial delight now,\nand so burst out, in a grand triumphant blast, with \"Let the Hills\nResound,\" after which we will take our leave, and, we hope, not without\nmelody in our hearts. Just one word as we go through this kitchen again.\nTwo West End clubs supply the Newport Market Refuge with the remnants of\ntheir well-stocked larders. Did it ever occur to you how many hungry\nchildren and poor men and women could be fed on the actual waste that\ngoes on in hotels, clubs, inns, dining-rooms, and large and ordinary\nhouseholds every day? M. Alexis Soyer used to say that he could feed ten\nthousand people with the food that was wasted in London every day; and I\nam inclined to think he was not far wrong. At all events, an enormous\nsalvage of humanity might be effected if only the one meal daily which\nmight be made of \"refuse\" pieces of meat and bread, bones, cuttings of\nvegetables, cold potatoes, and general pieces--was secured to the\nthousands to whom \"enough\" would often indeed be \"as good as a feast.\"\nTo people who know how much that is really good for food--not the\nplate-scrapings and leavings, but sound and useful reversions of meat\nand bread and vegetables, bones, and unsightly corners of joints--is\neither suffered to spoil or is thrown at once into the waste-tub, both\nin hotels and private houses, the additional knowledge that there are\nhungry children in every district in London to whom a bowl of nourishing\nsoup or a plate of minced meat and vegetables would be a boon, may\neasily be a pain, because of the inability to suggest how to organise\nthe means of utilising what one is tempted to call undeserved plenty.\n\n\n\n\n_FEEDING THE MULTITUDE._\n\n\nI suppose there are people still to be found who have but a vague notion\nof what it is to be really hungry. They may be conscious of possessing a\ngood appetite now and then, and having the means of obtaining food, and\nto a certain extent of choosing what they will eat, regard being rather\n\"sharp set\" as a luxury which gives additional zest to a dinner,\nenabling them to take off the edge of their craving with a plate of warm\nsoup, and to consider what they would like \"to follow.\"\n\nOf course we most of us read in the papers of the distress of the poor\nduring the winter, of the number of children for whom appeals are made\nthat they may have a meal of meat and vegetables once or twice a week,\nof the aggregate of casual paupers during a given period, and of cases\nwhere \"death accelerated by want and exposure\" is the verdict of a\ncoroner's jury; but we do not very easily realise what it is to be\nfamished; have perhaps never experienced that stage beyond\nhunger--beyond even the faintness and giddiness that makes us doubt\nwhether we could swallow anything solid, and would cause us to turn\nhopelessly from dry bread. There is no need here to detail the\nsufferings that come of starvation. They are dreadful enough; but if our\ncharity needs the stimulus of such descriptions we are in a bad way, and\nare ourselves in danger of perishing for want of moral sustenance.\n\nThose who need assurance of the hunger of hundreds of their poor\nneighbours need not go very far to obtain it. A quarter of an hour at\nthe window of any common cook-shop in a \"low neighbourhood,\" at about\nseven o'clock in the evening, when the steam of unctuous puddings is\nblurring the glass, and the odour of leg-of-beef soup and pease-pudding\ncomes in gusts to the chilly street, should suffice. There is pretty\nsure to be a group of poor little eager-eyed pinch-nosed boys and girls\npeering wistfully in to watch the fortunate possessor of two-pence who\ncomes out with something smoking hot on a cabbage-leaf, and begins to\nbite at it furtively before he crosses the threshold.\n\nOf course, according to modern social political economy, it would be\nencouraging mendicity, and sapping the foundations of an independent\ncharacter, to distribute sixpenny pieces amongst the juvenile committee\nof taste who are muttering what they would buy if only somebody could be\nfound to advance \"a copper.\" But it is to be hoped or feared (which?)\nthat a good many people yet live who would instinctively feel in their\npockets for a stray coin to expend on a warm greasy slab of baked or\nboiled, or on half a dozen squares of that peculiarly dense pie-crust\nwhich is sold in ha'porths. This is a vulgar detail; but somehow poverty\nand hunger _are_ vulgar, and we should find it difficult to get away\nfrom them if we tried ever so hard. Even School Boards, peeping out upon\nthe children perishing for lack of knowledge, find themselves in a\ndifficulty, because there is no provision under the compulsory or any\nother clause for the children who are also perishing for lack of food.\nThe Board beadle does not at present go about with soup-tickets in his\npockets; and for the poor shivering shoeless urchins who are mustered in\nthe big brick-built room where they assemble according to law there is\nno free breakfast-class.\n\nIt must one day become a question how they are to learn till they are\nfilled. Grown people find it hard enough to fix their attention on the\nbest advice or the most saving doctrine while they suffer involuntary\nhunger. The multitude must mostly be fed before they are taught. Even\ndisciples have had a revelation of the Bread of Life in the breaking of\nbread that perishes. Do we still need a miracle to teach us that?\n\nHappily, efforts are made to give meat to the hungry. During the winter\nweather food is distributed in various ways amidst some of those\npoverty-stricken neighbourhoods to which I am obliged to take you during\nour excursions; but the demand far exceeds the supply, and people suffer\nhunger at all seasons, though most of all in the time of bleak winds and\nsearching cold.\n\nI want you to come to-day to a kitchen which is open all the year\nround--the only kitchen of the kind in London which does not close its\ndoors even when the spring-tide brings buds of promise on the shrubs in\nLeicester Square, and the London sparrow comes out from roofs and eaves,\nand preens his dingy plumage in the summer sun, as though Great Windmill\nStreet had something in common with its name, and sweet country odours\ncame from the region of the Haymarket.\n\nFor, you know, we are still in the district of Soho. I have but just now\nbrought you out of Newport Market, and now we are in a very curious part\nof this vast strange city. The streets are dim and dingy, but not so\nsqualid as you might have imagined. They are still and silent, too, as\nof a neighbourhood that has seen better days, and even in its poverty\nhas a sense of gentility which is neither boisterous nor obtrusive.\n\nYou will remember that I referred to this neighbourhood of Soho when I\nspoke of those old French refugees who came and made industrial colonies\nin London after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. This is the only\nreally foreign quarter of London which has lasted until to-day; but that\nis to be accounted for by the fact that it became representative of no\nparticular industry, and that, probably from the fact of many of the\npatrons of literature and art having then town houses about Leicester\nand Soho Squares, the more artistic refugees took up their abode in the\nadjacent streets.\n\nFrom the time when William Hogarth painted his picture of the Calais\nGate till only a short time ago, when refugees fled from besieged Paris\nto find some poor and wretched lodging in the purlieus of Cranbourne\nStreet, where they might live in peace and hear their native tongue,\nthis has been the resort of poor foreigners in London. It almost reminds\none of some of the smaller streets of a continental city; and as we look\nat the queer shabby restaurants, and the shops with strange names\npainted above them in long yellow letters, we almost expect to find the\npavement change to cobble-stones, and to see some queer wooden sign\ndangle overhead, so like is the place to the small _bourgeois_ quarter\nthat in our earlier days lay behind the Madeleine and the Porte St.\nDenis.\n\nFor here is an actual _cr\u00eamerie_--a queer compound of cook-shop and\nmilkseller's--with a couple of bright dairy cans outside the door, and a\nlong loaf or two amidst the cups and plates and sausages in the dingy\nwindow. Over the way you see \"_Blanchisseuse_\" in large letters; and\nnext door is a _laiterie_, which differs from a _cr\u00eamerie_ as a _caf\u00e9_\nalone differs from a _caf\u00e9 restaurant_ with its \"_commerce de vins_\"\npainted in big capitals in front of a long row of sour-looking bottles\nand a green calico curtain. It is a quaint jumble, all the way to Dean\nStreet, and till we reach the edge of the Haymarket--a jumble of Brown\nand Lebrun, of Jones and Jean, of Robin (_fils_) and Robinson; but for\nall the little musty-smelling _caf\u00e9s_, the blank bare-windowed\n_restaurants_, the _cr\u00eameries_, and the _boulangeries_, there is nothing\nof a well fed look about the district, especially just at this corner,\nleading as it seems to a stable-yard or the entrance to a range of\npackers' warehouses. There is one open front here--is it a farrier's or\na blacksmith's shop?--where they appear to be doing a stroke of\nbusiness, however, for there is a clinking, and a fire, and a steam; but\nthe steam has a fragrant odour of vegetables--of celery and turnips, of\nharicots and gravy--the clink is that of basins and spoons getting\nready, and the fire is that of the boiler which simmers two mighty\ncauldrons.\n\nStep to the front, and you will see in big white letters right across\nthe house, \"Mont St. Bernard Hospice.\" You may well rub your eyes, for\nyou are in the heart of London, and stand in Ham Yard, Leicester Square,\nbefore the soup-kitchen that is open all the year.\n\nThere is something very appetising in the steam that arises from both\nthese huge cauldrons, one of which is the stock-pot, containing bones,\nremnants of joints (_not_ plate-clearings), and reversions of cold meat,\n&c., from two West End clubs. To this are added vegetables--celery,\nharicot beans, or barley--making it a fresh palatable stock, not\nremarkable for meatiness, but still excellent in flavour, as you may\nfind for yourself if you join me in a luncheon here. But the real\nstrengthening gravy has yet to be added, and the cauldron on the left\nhand is full of it--real, genuine gravy soup, made from raw meat and\nbones purchased for this purpose. As soon as this has simmered till it\nis thoroughly ready, the contents of the two cauldrons are mixed, and\nthe result is a delicious stew, which is ready to be turned out into\nthese yellow pint basins, for the hungry applicants, who will sit down\nat one of these two deal tables, each of which has its rough clean form,\nor to be dispensed to those who bring jugs, bowls, cans, saucepans,\nkettles, pipkins--any and almost every receptacle in which they can\ncarry it steaming away to their families.\n\nLet us stand here and see them come in. Here is a poor famishing fellow,\nwho looks with eager eyes at the savoury mess. He has evidently seen\nbetter days. There is an unmistakable air of education about him, and as\nhe sits down with his basin and spoon, and the handful of broken bread,\nwhich is added to the soup from one of a series of clean sacks emptied\nfor the purpose, the superintendent, Mr. Stevens, scans him with a quick\neye, and will probably speak to him before he leaves. There is a\nforeigner--an Italian, by the look of his oval olive face--who takes his\nplace very quietly, and as quietly begins to eat; and yonder a\nfamished-looking, rough fellow, who has already devoured the basinful\nwith his eyes, and is evidently in sore need. Men, women, and children,\nor, at all events, boys and girls, come and present their tickets, and\nreceive this immediate relief, against which surely not the most\nrigorous opponent to mendicancy can protest. The cadger and the\nprofessional beggar do not go to the soup-kitchen where nothing is\ncharged, for they do not need food, and will only see a ticket where it\nis likely to be accompanied by the penny which will buy a quart. Be sure\nthat there are few cases here which are not so necessitous that they are\nnot far from starvation; and many of them represent actually desperate\nwant.\n\nThe tickets for obtaining this prompt relief--often only just in time to\nsave some poor creature from utter destitution and crime, and as often\nadministered when a family is without food, and yet clings to the hope\nof finding work to prevent that separation which they must submit to by\nbecoming paupers--are placed in the hands of clergymen, doctors,\ndistrict visitors, Bible-women, and those who know the poor, and can\nfeel for them when in hard times they pawn furniture, tools, and\nclothes, and suffer the extremity of want, before they will apply for\nparochial relief, and have offered to them the alternative of \"going\ninto the house.\"\n\nThe annals of the poor, from which extracts occasionally appear in the\nnewspapers in the accounts of coroners' inquests, prove to what dreadful\nsufferings many decent but destitute people will submit rather than\nbecome recognised paupers; and no system of charitable relief outside\nthe workhouse walls will be effectual or useful which does not recognise\nand respect this feeling. Who would let the possible accident of some\nunworthy person getting a gratuitous pint of soup stand in the way of a\nwork such as we see going on here, where one year's beneficent action\nincludes above ten thousand persons relieved?--a large number of whom\nare temporarily taken into the Hospice, as we shall see presently, while\na great contingent is represented by the family tickets, which enable\npoor working men and women from various districts in London to carry\naway a gallon of strong nourishing soup, and an apronful of bread to\ntheir hungry little ones. You see that great heap of pieces of fine\nbread--slices, hunches, remnants of big loaves, dry toast, French bread,\nbrown bread, and rolls--all placed in a clean wooden bin, they also come\nfrom the two great West End clubs before mentioned, and are so\nappreciated by the applicants for relief (they being usually good judges\nof quality) that you may note a look of disappointment if the stock of\nclub bread has been exhausted, and a portion of one of the common loaves\nbought for the purpose is substituted. The small broken bread in those\nclean sacks is club bread also--the crumbs from rich men's tables, but\nclean, and thoroughly good, fit for immediate addition to the soup,\nwhich a hungry company of diners consume in a painfully short space of\ntime.\n\nThey are not inhabitants of this district, either; comparatively few\ncome from the immediate neighbourhood, though, of course, some poor\nfamilies of the adjacent streets and alleys, and occasionally foreign\nworkmen--many of them adepts in artistic employments, who are in the\nland of the stranger and in want--come here and have not only the help\nof a meal, but the kind inquiry, the further aid that will sustain hope,\nand enable them to look for work, and find the means of living.\nLondoners from Kentish Town, Lambeth, Shoreditch, and Chelsea--poor\nhungry men and women from all parts of the great city--find their way\nhere to obtain a dinner; and it is extremely unlikely that they would\nleave even the least profitable employment and walk so far for the sake\nof a basin of soup. Food alone is offered, not money, and there is\nlittle probability of imposition when there is so little to be gained by\nthe attempt. But while the great cauldrons are being emptied, let us\nhear what they do at this \"Mont St. Bernard Hospice\" at the Christmas\nseason.\n\nHere is a list of good things that were sent at Christmas-tide for a\nspecial purpose:--A noble earl sent a sheep, if not more than one, and\nother generous givers in kind--many of them manufacturers of or dealers\nin the articles they contributed--forwarded loaves, biscuits, hams,\nrice, flour, currants, raisins, ale, porter, cocoa, peas, and other\ncomfortable meats and drinks, so that there was a glorious distribution\nto the poor on Christmas Eve, when 936 families were provided with a\nChristmas dinner, consisting of 4 lbs. of beef, 3 lbs. of pudding,\nbread, tea, and sugar, together with such other seasonable and most\nacceptable gifts as were apportioned to them in accordance with the\nnumber of their children and the quantity of miscellaneous eatables and\ndrinkables available for the purpose.\n\nBut we have not quite done with it yet, for it is a hospice in fact, as\nwell as in name. Just as in the Newport Market Refuge, the houseless and\ndestitute are received with little question--the homeless and friendless\nare here taken in after little inquiry, even the subscriber's ticket for\nadmission being occasionally dispensed with, when Mr. Stevens, the\nsuperintendent, sees an obviously worthy case among the applicants who\ncome to ask for a meal. It must be remembered, however, that an\nexperienced eye can detect the casual very readily, and that Mr.\nStevens, who served with his friend Mr. Ramsden, of Newport Market, when\nthey were both in the army, is as smart a detective as that shrewd and\ncompassionate officer. It is so much the better for those who are really\ndeserving--so much the better even for those who, being ashamed to dig,\nare not ashamed to beg--the ne'er-do-weels who, even in the degradation\nof poverty brought about by idleness and dissipation, come down to\nsolicit food and shelter, and find both, together with ready help, if\nthey will mend their ways. There are some such, but not many: more often\na man of education, broken by misfortune, and perhaps by the loss of a\nsituation through failure or accident beyond his control, finds himself\nstarving and desolate. Such men have come here, and found, first, food,\nthen a lavatory, then a bed in a good-sized room, where only seven or\neight persons are received to sleep, then a confidential talk, advice,\nthe introduction to people willing and able to help them among the\ncommittee and subscribers of the Institution.\n\nIt may be a French tutor destitute in London, but with his character and\nability beyond doubt; it may be, it _has_ been, a young foreign artist;\na skilled labourer from the country, who has come to London to find work\nand finds want instead; a poor school-teacher who, having lost an\nappointment, and being unable to work at any other calling, is in\ndespair, and knows not where to turn; an honest fellow, ready and\nwilling to turn his hand to anything, but finding nothing to which he\ncan turn his hand without an introduction. Such are the cases which are\nreceived at this hospice in Ham Yard, where they are permitted to remain\nfor a day or two, or even for a week or two, till they find work, or\ntill somebody can make inquiries about them and help them to what they\nseek.\n\nAbout seven men and eight women can be received within the walls, but\nthere are seldom the full number there, because it is necessary to\ndiscriminate carefully. The object is to relieve immediate and painful\ndistress, and to give that timely aid which averts starvation by the\ngift of food, and prevents the degradation of pauperism by means of\nadvice, assistance, and just so much support as will give the stricken\nand friendless men or women time to recover from the first stupor of\nhopelessness or the dread of perishing, and at the same time afford the\nopportunity of proving that they are ready and willing to begin anew,\nwith the consciousness that they have not been left desolate.\n\n\n\n\n_GIVING REST TO THE WEARY._\n\n\nWe have not yet done with this wonderful district of Soho. It is one of\nthose attractive quarters of London, which is interesting alike for its\nhistorical associations and for memorable houses that were once\ninhabited by famous men. In essays, letters, fiction--all through that\nperiod which has been called the Augustan age of English literature--we\nfind allusions to it; and after that time it continued to be the\nfavourite resort of artists, men of letters, wealthy merchants, and not\na few statesmen and eminent politicians. In Leicester Square, Hogarth\nlaughed, moralised, and painted. The house of Sir Joshua Reynolds stands\nyet in that now renovated space, and a well-known artist has a studio\nthere to-day. But the tide of fashion has receded since powdered wigs\nand sedan chairs disappeared. The tall stately houses are many of them\ndismantled, or are converted into manufactories and workshops. The great\niron extinguishers which still adorn the iron railings by the doorsteps\nhave nearly rusted away. It must be a century since the flambeaux\ncarried by running footmen were last thrust into them, when great\nrumbling, creaking coaches drew up and landed visitors before the\ndimly-lighted portals. Silence and decay are the characteristics of many\na once goodly mansion; and the houses themselves are not unfrequently\nassociated with the relief of that poverty which is everywhere so\napparent as to appeal to almost every form of charity. Before one such\nhouse we are standing now, its quietly opening door revealing a broad\nlofty hall, from which a great staircase, with heavy baluster of black\noak and panelled walls leads to the spacious rooms above. This mansion\nis historical, too, in its way, for we are at the corner of Soho Square,\nin Greek Street, and are about to enter what was once the London\nresidence of the famous Alderman Beckford, and his equally famous\nson--the man who inherited the mysterious and gorgeously furnished\npalace at Fonthill, the author of \"Vathek,\" the half-recluse who bought\nGibbon's extensive library at Lausanne, that he might have \"something to\namuse him when he went that way,\" and afterwards went that way, read\nhimself nearly blind, and then made a friend a present of all the books,\nsold Fonthill, went abroad, and set about building another mysterious\ncastle in a strange land.\n\nIn that big committee-room on the first floor, which we shall visit\npresently, there was to be seen, four or five years ago, a stupendous\nchimney-piece of oak, elaborately carved, and said to have been a\nmasterpiece of Grinling Gibbons. It was taken down and sold for a\nhandsome sum of money, to augment the funds of the Institution which now\noccupies the old mansion, for the door at which we enter receives other\nguests than those who once thronged it--suffering, depressed,\npoverty-stricken, weary men and women, who come here to seek the rest\nthat is offered to them in the quiet rooms--the restoration of meat and\ndrink and refreshing sleep, the comfort of hopeful words and friendly\naid. It is named \"The House of Charity,\" and the work that its\nsupporters have set themselves to do is carried on so silently--I had\nalmost said so secretly--that the stillness you observe within the\nbuilding, as we stand here waiting for the lady who superintends the\nhousehold, is suggestive alike of the repose which is essential to the\nplace, and of a severe earnestness not very easy to define.\n\nMembers of the same committee, whose earnest hearty work is apparent at\nNewport Market and at the Soup Kitchen in Ham Yard, are helping this\nHouse of Charity, which has the Archbishop of Canterbury for its patron\nand the Bishop of London for its visitor.\n\nHere, in the two large sitting-rooms opening from the hall, we may see\npart of what is being done, in giving rest to the weary and upholding\nthem who are ready to faint. One is for men, the other for women, who\nhave been received as inmates, for periods extending from a fortnight to\na longer time, according to the necessities of each case, and the\nprobability of obtaining suitable employment. Of course the aid is\nintended to be only temporary--though in some peculiar cases it is\ncontinued till the applicant recovers from weakness following either\nuninfectious illness or want. There can be, of course, no actual\nsick-nursing here; but in a warm and comfortable upper room, near the\ndormitory, which we shall see presently--a room which is the day-nursery\nof a few children who are also admitted--I have seen young women, one\nwho was suffering from a consumptive cough, another an out-patient at an\nhospital for disease of the hip, and wearing an instrument till she\ncould be admitted as a regular case. They were both sitting cosily at\ntheir tea, and were employed at needlework, as most of the women are who\nfind here a temporary home. For it is one of the beneficent results of\nan influential committee, that a number of cases are sent to hospitals\nor to convalescent homes, and so are restored; but till this can be done\nthey are fed and tended--fed with food more delicate than that of the\nordinary meal--and are allowed to rest in peace and to regain strength.\n\nBut we are still in the men's sitting-room, where several poor fellows\nare looking at the lists of advertisements in the newspapers for some\nannouncement of a vacant situation. A supply of books is also provided\nboth for men and women, and the latter are just now engaged in mending\nor making their clothes.\n\nBetween thirty and forty inmates can be received at one time, and those\nwho are in search of employment, or who require to go out during the\nday, may leave the house after breakfast, and return either to dinner or\nto tea. There are, indeed, few restrictions when once preliminary\ninquiries and the recommendation of a member of the committee result in\nthe admission of an applicant; and it is easy to see how deeply and\nthankfully many of these poor depressed men and women, beaten in the\nbattle of life, with little hope of regaining a foothold, weak,\ndispirited, destitute, and with no strength left to struggle under the\nburden that weighs them down, find help and healing, food and sleep,\nadvice, and very often a recommendation which places them once more in a\nposition of comfort and independence. A large proportion of those who\nare admitted are provided with situations either permanently or for a\nperiod long enough to enable them to turn round the difficult corner\nfrom poverty and dependence to useful and appropriate employment. Some\nare sent to Homes, hospitals, or orphanages, and many return to their\nown homes. From those homes they have wandered, hoping to find the world\neasier than it has proved to be, and in going back to them they have\nfallen by the wayside.\n\nThere are sometimes remarkable varieties here--emigrants waiting for\nships to sail that will bear them to another land; men of education,\nsuch as tutors, engineers, engravers, and professional men, who have\nbeen unsuccessful, or have lost their position, often through no\nimmediate fault of their own. Of course, the large class of genteel\npoverty is largely represented in the five or six hundred cases which\nmake the average number of yearly inmates. Clerks, shopmen, and\ntravellers are about as numerous as servants, porters, and pages. Poor\nwomen, many of whom are ladies by birth or previous position and\neducation, find the House of Charity a refuge indeed, and feel that the\nperson who has charge of the household arrangements, as well as those\nwho have charge of the inmates, the accounts and correspondence, may be\nappealed to with an assurance of true sympathy. Here, beside the two\nsitting-rooms, is a large room which we will call the refectory; it is\nplainly furnished, with separate tables for men and women, and the\nquantity and description of the food supplied is such as would be\nprovided in a respectable and well-ordered family--tea or coffee and\nplenty of good bread-and-butter morning and evening, meat, bread and\nvegetables, for dinner, and a supper of bread and cheese. There are no\n\"rations,\" nor any special limit as to quantity, and if one could forget\nthe distress which brings them hither, the family might be regarded as\nbelonging to some comfortable business establishment, with good plain\nmeals and club-room on each side the dining-hall for meeting in after\nworking hours.\n\nLet us go upstairs, and look at the dormitories, which occupy\nrespectively the right and left side of the building, and we shall see\nthat they are so arranged as to secure that privacy, the want of which\nwould be most repulsive to persons of superior condition. Each long and\nlofty room is divided into a series of enclosures or cabins by\nsubstantial partitions about eight feet high, and in each of these\nseparate rooms--all of which are lighted by several windows or by\ngas-branches in the main apartment--there is a neat comfortable bed and\nbedstead, with space for a box, a seat, and a small table or shelf.\n\nA resident chaplain or warden conducts morning and evening prayer in the\nchapel, which is built on part of the open area at the back of the\nbuilding; and I would have you consider, not only that to many of these\nweary souls this sacred spot may come to be associated with that outcome\nto renewed life for which their presence in the Institution gives them\nreason to hope, but that it is most desirable for the invalids, who\nfrequently form so large a portion of the congregation, to be able to\nattend worship without practically leaving the house.\n\nNot only because of the sick and the physically feeble, however, does\nthe House of Charity represent a work that needs vast extension.\n\nThe case-book would reveal a series of stories none the less affecting\nbecause they are entered plainly, briefly, and without waste of words.\nThey need few touches of art to make them painfully interesting. They\ntell of ladies, wives of professional men, brought to widowhood and\nsudden poverty; of men of education cast adrift through failure or false\nfriendship, and not knowing where to seek bread; of children left\ndestitute or deserted under peculiar circumstances; of women removed\nfrom persecution, and girls from the tainted atmosphere of vice; of\nweary wanderers who, in despair of finding such a shelter, and dreading\nthe common lodging-house, have spent nights in the parks; of foreigners\nstranded on the shore of a strange city; of ministers of the gospel\nbrought low; of friendless servant-girls, ill-treated, defrauded of\ntheir wages, or discharged almost penniless, and cast loose amidst the\nwhirlpool of London streets.\n\nBut, as I have already intimated, it is not alone for its temporary aid\nin affording a home that the House of Charity is distinguished; it\naffords a good hope also, by seeking to obtain situations, for cases\nwhere peculiar circumstances make such a search difficult--for bereaved\nand impoverished ladies, and for educated men, as well as for domestic\nservants and ordinary employ\u00e9s. Its supporters give their special aid to\nthe work, and, as they number amongst them many ladies and gentlemen of\nconsiderable social influence, employment is frequently found for those\nwhose misfortunes would otherwise be almost irretrievable.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THE POOR AND NEEDY._\n\n\n\"All hope abandon, ye who enter here,\" would, as we might fancy, be an\nappropriate inscription for many a wretched court and alley in the\ngreatest and most opulent city in the world--a city distinguished for\nits claims to be regarded as the centre of civilisation; as the exemplar\nof benevolence, and of active Christianity. It is one of the marvellous\nresults of the vast extent of this metropolis of England that there are\nwhole districts of foul dwellings crowded with a poverty-stricken\npopulation, which yet are almost ignored, so far as public recognition\nof their existence is concerned. Legislation itself does not reach them,\nin the sense of compelling the strict observance of Acts of Parliament\nframed and presumably enforced for the purpose of maintaining sanitary\nconditions; philanthropy almost stands appalled at the difficulty of\ndealing with a chronic necessity so widely spread, a misery and\nignorance so deep and apparently impregnable; sentimentalism sighs and\nturns away with a shiver, or is touched to the extent of relieving its\novercharged susceptibilities by the comfortable expedient of the\nsmallest subscription to some association in the neighbourhood. True,\nactive, practical religion alone, of all the agencies that have operated\nin these places, gains ground inch by inch, and at last exercises a\ndefinite and beneficial influence, by taking hold of the hearts and\nconsciences of the people themselves, and working from within the area\nof vice and misery, till the law of love, beginning to operate where the\nlaw of force had no influence, a change, gradual but sure, here a little\nand there a little, is effected.\n\nWe are continually hearing of the \"dwellings of the poor;\" and can\nscarcely take up a newspaper without noting the phrase, \"one of the\nworst neighbourhoods in London,\" connected with some report of crime,\noutrage, or suffering; yet how few of us are really familiar with the\nactual abodes of the more degraded and miserable of our fellow-citizens!\nhow quickly, how gladly, we dismiss from our memory the account of an\ninquest where the evidence of the cause of death of some unfortunate\nman, woman, or child, without a natural share of light, air, food, and\nwater, reveals hideous details of want and wretchedness, which we might\nwitness only a few streets off, and yet are unconscious of their\nnearness to us in mere physical yards and furlongs, because they are so\nfar from us spiritually, in our lack of sympathy and compassion.\n\nEven at the time that these lines are being written I have before me a\nreport of an examination by the coroner into the circumstances attending\nthe death of a woman seventy years of age, who obtained a miserable and\nprecarious living by stay-making, and who was found dead in the back\nkitchen of a house. Her death was alleged to have been brought about by\nthe unhealthiness of the house in which she lived, although the landlord\nwas a medical officer of health for one of the metropolitan districts.\n\nIn this case the alleged landlord, who was actually a medical officer of\nhealth, answered the charge made against him by the statement that he\nhad only just come into possession of the property, and had at once set\nabout putting it in repair. It is to be hoped that this was the case,\nand, indeed, the evidence of the sanitary inspector went to show that it\nwas so; but the question remains: How is it that dwellings are permitted\nto be thus overcrowded, and to become actual centres of pestilence in\nthe midst of entire neighbourhoods, where, for one foul tenement to have\nan infamous reputation amidst such general filth and dilapidation, it\nmust indeed be, as one member of the jury said this place was, \"so bad,\nthat no gentleman would keep his dog there?\"\n\nKeep his dog indeed! Why I know whole rows and congeries of intersecting\ncourts and alleys where a country squire would no more think of\nkennelling his hounds than he would dream of stabling his horses! There\nhas during the past few years been a tolerably determined stand made\nagainst the introduction of pigsties into the back-yards of some of the\nhovels about Mile End and Bethnal Green; and though cow-sheds are not\naltogether abolished everywhere in close and overbuilt localities, there\nare some precautions taken to diminish the sale of infected milk by an\ninspection of the laystalls, and the enforcement of lime-whiting and\nventilation in the sheds. Costermongers' donkeys are the only animals\nbesides dogs and cats which are commonly to be found in London slums\nnow, and as these can be stowed in any shanty just outside the back\ndoor, or can be littered down in a spare corner of a cellar, they\nremain, in costermongering districts, without much opposition on the\npart of the local authorities. For, after all, what can these\nauthorities do? Under the 35th section of the Sanitary Act, power was\ngiven to them to register all houses let out by non-resident landlords,\nwho were under a penalty of forty shillings for not keeping their houses\nin repair, well supplied with water, drainage clear, &c. To those who\nhave an intimate acquaintance with the density of population in whole\nacreages of London slums, there is something almost ludicrous in these\nwords, especially when they are read in the light of the fact that the\nlandlords of such places are frequently parochial magnates or officials\nwho know how to make things pleasant with subordinate sanitary\ninspectors.\n\nWhat may be the ultimate result of an Act of Parliament \"for improving\nthe dwellings of the poor\" it is not at present easy to say; but\nassuredly any plan which commences by a general and imperfectly\ndiscriminative destruction of existing houses, hovels though they may\nbe, will only have the effect of crowding more closely the already\nf\u0153tid and swarming tenements where, for half-a crown a week, eight or\nten people eat, live, and sleep in a single apartment. It was only the\nother day, in a district of which I shall presently speak more\ndefinitely, that a \"mission woman\" was called in to the aid of a family,\nconsisting of a man, his wife, his wife's brother--who was there as a\nlodger--and five or six children, all of whom occupied one room, where\nthe poor woman had just given birth to an infant. The place was almost\ndestitute of furniture; beds of straw and shavings, coverlets of old\ncoats and such ragged clothing as could be spared; little fire and\nlittle food. Such destitution demanded that the \"maternity box,\" or a\nsuddenly-extemporised bag of baby-clothing and blankets, should be\nfetched at once; and though the mission there is a poor one, with\nterrible needs to mitigate, a constant demand for personal work and\nnoble self-sacrifice, such cases are every-day events, such demands\nalways to be answered by some kind of helpful sympathy, even though the\namount of relief afforded is necessarily small and temporary in\ncharacter.\n\nNot in one quarter of London alone, but dotted here and there throughout\nits vastly-extending length and breadth--from St. Pancras, and further\naway northward, to Bethnal Green and all that great series of\npoverty-stricken townships and colonies of casual labour, on the east;\nfrom the terrible purlieux of Southwark, the districts where long rows\nof silent houses, in interminable streets, chill the unaccustomed\nwayfarer with vague apprehensions, where \"Little Hell\" and the knots and\ntangles of that \"Thief-London\" which has found a deplorable Alsatia in\nthe purlieux of the Borough and of Bermondsey; and so round the\nmetropolitan circle, westward to the neighbourhood of aristocratic\nmansions and quiet suburban retreats, where the garotter skulks and the\nburglar finds refuge; further towards the centre of the town, in\nWestminster, not a stone's-throw from the great legislative assembly,\nwhich, while it debates in St. Stephen's on sanitation and the\nimprovement of dwellings, scarcely remembers all that may be seen in St.\nPeter's, about Pye Street, and remembers Seven Dials and St Giles's only\nas traditional places, where \"modern improvements\" have made a clean\nsweep, just as the Holborn Viaduct and the metropolitan Railway swept\naway Field Lane, and the new meat market at Smithfield put an end for\never to the horrible selvage of Cloth Fair--and only left the legends of\nJonathan Wild's rookery and the \"blood-bowl house.\"\n\nBut the very mention of these places brings the reflection that not in\noutlying districts, but in the very heart of London, in the core of the\ngreat city itself, the canker of misery, poverty, and vice is festering\nstill. What is the use of eviction, when the law punishes houselessness,\nand the _Poor_ Law cannot meet any sudden demand, nor maintain any\ncontinuous claim on the part of the houseless? Summarily to thrust a\nscore or so of wretched families into the streets is to make them either\ncriminals or paupers. They must find some place of shelter; and if they\nare to live _by_ their labour, they must live _near_ their labour, the\nwages of which are, at best, only just sufficient to procure for them\nnecessary food and covering for their bodies.\n\nIn the neighbourhood to which I have already referred, four thousand\nevictions have taken place, or, at any rate, the population has\ndiminished from 22,000 to 18,000, because of a small section of a large\npuzzle map of courts and alleys having been taken down in order to build\ngreat blocks of warehouses. The consequence is, that in the remaining\ntangle of slums the people herd closer, and that a large number of poor\nlodgers have gone to crowd other tenements not far distant, and which\nwere already peopled beyond legal measure.\n\nFor this acreage of vice and wretchedness of which I speak is close to\nthe great city thoroughfares--almost within sound of Bow Bells. It is\nabout a quarter of a mile in extent each way, lying between the\nCharterhouse and St. Luke's, close to the new meat market at Smithfield\non one side, and Finsbury Square on the other. One entrance to it is\ndirectly through Golden Lane, Barbican; the other close to Bunhill\nFields burial ground, along a passage which bears the significant name\nof \"Chequer Alley.\" It is a maze of intersecting and interlocking\ncourts, streets, and alleys, some of them without any thoroughfare, some\nreached by ascending or descending steps, many of them mere tanks, the\nwalls of which are represented by hovels inhabited by costermongers,\nFrench-polishers, dock-labourers, chair-makers, workers at all kinds of\nunderpaid labour and poor handicrafts. Many of the women go out to work\nat factories, or at charing, and the children are--or at least\nwere--left to the evil influences of the streets, till another and a\nmore powerful influence began to operate, slowly, but with the impetus\nof faith and love, to touch even this neglected and miserable quarter of\nLondon with \"the light that lighteth every man.\"\n\nIn this square quarter of a mile--which, starting from the edge of\nAldersgate, stretches to the further main thoroughfare abutting on the\npleasant border of the City Road, and includes the northern end of\nWhitecross Street--there are eighty public-houses and beer-shops!\n\nI tell you this much, as we stand here at the entrance of Golden Lane,\nbut I have no intention just now to take you on a casual visit either to\nthe dens of wretchedness and infamy, or to the homes where poverty\nabides. I must try to let you see what has been done, and is still\ndoing, to bring to both that Gospel which is alone efficient to change\nthe conditions, by changing the hearts and motives of men. I may well\navoid any description of the places which lie on either hand, for, in\nfact, there is nothing picturesque in such misery, nothing specially\nsensational in such crime. It is all of a sordid miserable sort; all on\na dreary dead-level of wretchedness and poverty, full of poor shifts and\nexpedients, or of mean brutality and indifference. There is no\nshow-place to which you could be taken, as it is said curious gentlemen\nwere at one time conducted to the dens of the mendicants, thieves, and\nhighwaymen of old London. Even in the tramps' kitchen the orgies, if\nthere are any, are of so low a kind that they would be depressing in\ntheir monotonous degradation.\n\nLet us go farther, and enter this strange wilderness by its fitting\npassage of Chequer Alley, so that we may, as it were, see the beginning\nof the work that has been going on with more or less power for more than\nthirty years.\n\nI think I have some acquaintance with what are the worst neighbourhoods\nof London. I have made many a journey down East; have studied some of\nthe strange varieties of life on the shore amidst the water-side\npopulation; have lived amidst the slums of Spitalfields, and passed\nnights \"Whitechapel way;\" but never in any unbroken area of such extent\nhave I seen so much that is suggestive of utter poverty, so much\nprivation of the ordinary means of health and decency, as on a journey\nabout this district which I long ago named \"The Chequers.\" Each court\nand blind alley has the same characteristics--the same look of utter\npoverty, the same want of air and light, the same blank aspect of dingy\nwall and sunken doorsteps, the same square areas surrounded by hovels\nwith clothes'-lines stretched from house to house, almost unstirred by\nany breeze that blows, shut in as they are in close caverns, only to be\nentered by narrow passages between blank walls. It is the extent of this\none solid district, almost in the very centre of City life, that is so\nbewildering, and wherein lies its terrible distraction.\n\nThe labour of reformation has begun, but the labourers are few. For more\nthan thirty years some efforts have been going on to redeem this\nneglected and unnoticed neighbourhood, which lies so near to, and yet so\nfar from London's heart.\n\nLet it be noted that this moral effort had gone on for nearly\ntwenty-nine years before any very definite attempt was made to improve\nthe physical condition of the place.\n\nIn 1841 a tract distributor, Miss Macarthy, began an organised endeavour\nto teach the depraved inhabitants of Chequer Alley. In 1869, a sanitary\nsurveyor, reporting on _one_ of the courts of this foul district,\nrecommended that the premises there should be demolished under the\n\"Artisans' and Labourers' Dwellings Act,\" because the floors and\nceilings were considerably out of level, some of the walls saturated\nwith filth and water, the others broken and falling down, doors,\nwindow-sashes and frames rotten, stairs dilapidated and dangerous, roof\nleaky and admitting the rain, no provisions for decency, and a foul and\nfailing water supply.\n\nThe \"pulling-down\" remedy, without any simultaneous building up, has\nbeen extended since then in a locality where a model lodging-house,\nwhich has been erected, has stood for years almost unoccupied, because\nlike all model lodging-houses in such neighbourhoods, neither the\nprovisions nor the rentals are adapted to meet the wants and the means\nof the poorest, of whom, as I have already said, a whole family cannot\nafford to pay more than the rental for a single room, or two rooms at\nthe utmost.\n\nBut we are wandering away from the work that we came to see. Look at\nthat wistful young native, standing there quite close to the mouth of\nChequer Alley. Ask him what is that sound of children's voices from a\ncasually-opened doorway, and he will tell you \"It's our school; yer kin\ngo in, sir, if yer like--anybody kin.\" As the name of the institution is\n\"Hope Schools for All,\" his invitation is doubtless authorised, and we\nmay well feel that we have made a mistake in thinking of the Italian\npoet's hopeless line, for out of the doorway there comes a sound of\nsinging, and inside the doorway is a room containing fifty or sixty\n\"infants,\" seated on low forms, and many of them such bright, rosy--yes,\nrosy--clean--yes, comparatively, if not superlatively clean--little\ncreatures, that hope itself springs to fresh life in their presence. It\nis thirty-four years since Miss Macarthy, with an earnest desire to\ninitiate some work of charity and mercy, resolved to become a\ndistributor of tracts, and the district she chose was this same foul\ntangle to which I have asked you to accompany me. Bad as the whole\nneighbourhood is now, it was worse then. It was never what is called a\nthief-quarter, but many juvenile thieves haunted it; and the men were as\nruffianly and abusive, the women as violent and evil-tongued as any who\ncould be found in all London. Instead of being paved, and partially and\ninsufficiently drained, it was a f\u0153tid swamp, with here and there a\npool where ducks swam, while the foul odours of the place were\nsuffocating. No constable dare enter far into the maze without a\ncompanion. But the tract distributor ventured. In the midst of an\nepidemic of typhus, or what is known as \"poverty\" fever, she went about\namong the people, and strove to fix their attention on the message that\nshe carried. The religious services commenced in a rat-catcher's \"front\nparlour,\" and at first the congregation broke into the hymns with scraps\nand choruses of songs. The crowd which collected outside not only\ninterrupted the proceedings, but threatened those who conducted them\nwith personal violence, and even assaulted them, and heaped insult upon\nthem; but the lady who had put her hand to the plough would not turn\nback. In the midst of her patient and difficult work she herself was\nstricken down with fever. She had visited and tended those who were\nsuffering. When the question was asked what had become of her, the\nbarbarous people learnt that she was like to die. Perhaps this touched\nthe hearts of some of them, for she had begun to live down the brutal\nopposition of those who could not believe in unselfish endeavours to\nbenefit them. She recovered, however; and supported by others, who gave\nboth money and personal effort, the beneficent work went on.\n\nIn this large room where the children are singing we have an example of\nwhat has been effected. Some of the little creatures are pale, and have\nthat wistful look that goes to the heart; but there are few of them that\nhave not clean faces, and who do not show in the scanty little dresses\nsome attempt at decent preparation for meeting \"the guv'ness.\"\n\nThere is a school for elder children also; and in the ramshackle old\nhouse where the classes are held there are appliances which mark the\nwide application of the beneficent effort that has grown slowly but\nsurely, not only in scope, but in its quiet influence upon the people\namidst whom it was inaugurated. Yonder, in a kind of covered yard, is a\nhuge copper, the honoured source of those \"penny dinners,\" and those\nquarts and gallons of soup which have been such a boon to the\nneighbourhood, where food is scarce, and dear. Then there was the\nChristmas dinner, at which some hundreds of little guests were supplied\nwith roast meat and pudding, evidences of how much may be effected\nwithin a very small space. Indeed, this Hope School, with its two or\nthree rooms, is at work day and night; for not only are the children\ntaught--children not eligible for those Board schools which, unless the\nboard itself mitigates its technical demands, will shut up this and\nsimilar institutions before any provision is made for transferring the\nchildren to the care of a Government department--but there are \"mothers'\nmeetings,\" sewing classes, where poor women can obtain materials at cost\nprice, and be taught to make them into articles of clothing. There are\nalso adult classes, and Sunday evening services for those who would\nnever appear at church or chapel but for such an easy transition from\ntheir poor homes to the plain neighbourly congregation assembled there.\nThere are evenings, too, when lectures, dissolving views, social teas,\nand pleasant friendly meetings bring the people together with humanising\ninfluences. It becomes a very serious question for the London School\nBoard to consider whether, by demanding that ragged schools such as this\nshall be closed if they do not show a certain technical standard of\nteaching, the means of partially feeding and clothing, which are in such\ncases inseparable from instructing, shall be destroyed.\n\nBut here is a youthful guide--a shambling, shock-headed lad, with only\nthree-quarters of a pair of shoes, and without a cap, who is to be our\nguide to another great work, on the Golden Lane side of this great\nzigzag, to the \"Costermongers' Mission,\" in fact. You may follow him\nwith confidence, for he is a Hope School-boy--and that means something,\neven in Chequer Alley.\n\nStill threading our way through those dim alleys, where each one looks\nlike a _cul-de-sac_, but yet may be the devious entrance to another more\nfoul and forbidding, we leave the \"Hope-for-All\" Mission Room resounding\nwith infant voices, all murmuring the simple lessons of the day. That\nroom is seldom empty, because of the evening school where a large class\nof older pupils are taught, reading, writing, and arithmetic; the adult\nclass, and the \"mothers' meeting,\" to which poor women are invited that\nthey may be assisted to make garments for themselves and their children\nfrom materials furnished for them at a cheap rate in such quantities as\ntheir poor savings can purchase. The visiting \"Bible woman\" is the chief\nagent in these works of mercy, since she brings parents and children to\nthe school, and reports cases of severe distress to be relieved when\nthere are funds for the purpose. Not only by teaching and sewing,\nhowever, are the hopeful influences of the place supported, for, as I\nhave said already, in this big room the people of the district are\ninvited to assemble to listen to lectures, readings, and music, to see\ndissolving views; and in the summer, when fields are in their beauty and\nthe hedge-rows are full of glory, there is an excursion into the country\nfor the poor, little, pallid children, while, strangest sight of all, a\nreal \"flower show\" is, or was, held in Chequer Alley. One could almost\npity the flowers, if we had any pity to spare from the stunted buds and\nblossoms of humanity who grow pale and sicken and so often die in this\nfoul neighbourhood.\n\nBut we have strange sights yet to see, so let us continue our excursion\nin and out, and round and round, not without some feeling of giddiness\nand sickness of heart, through the \"Pigeons\"--a tavern, the passage of\nwhich is itself a connecting link between two suspicious-looking\ncourts--round by beershops all blank and beetling, and silent; past\nlow-browed doorways and dim-curtained windows of tramps' kitchens, and\nthe abodes of more poverty, misery, and it may be crime, than you will\nfind within a similar space in any neighbourhood in London, or out of\nit, except perhaps in about five streets \"down East,\" or in certain dens\nof Liverpool and Manchester.\n\nOne moment. You see where a great sudden gap appears to have been made\non one side of Golden Lane. That gap represents houses pulled down to\nerect great blocks of building for warehouses or factories, and it also\nrepresents the space in which above 4,000 people lived when the\npopulation of this square quarter of mile of poverty and dirt was 22,000\nsouls. This will give you some idea of the consequences of making what\nare called \"clean sweeps,\" by demolishing whole neighbourhoods before\nother dwellings are provided for the evicted tenants. One result of this\nmethod of improving the dwellings of the poor is that the people crowd\ncloser, either in their own or in some adjacent neighbourhood, where\nrents are low and landlords are not particular how many inmates lodge in\na single room. Remember that whole families can only earn just enough to\nkeep them from starving, and cannot afford to pay more than half-a-crown\nor three-and-sixpence a week for rent. They must live near their work,\nor they lose time, and time means pence, and pence represent the\ndifference between eating and fasting.\n\n\"The model lodging-house!\" See, there is one, and it is nearly empty.\nHow should it be otherwise? The proprietors of such places, whether they\nbe philanthropists or speculators--and they are not likely to be the\nlatter--can never see a return of any profitable percentage on their\noutlay while they enforce necessary sanitary laws. The top-rooms are\nhalf-a-crown a week each, and the lower \"sets\" range from about six\nshillings for two to eight-and-sixpence for three rooms. The consequence\nis that the few tenants in this particular building are frequently\nchanging their quarters. Some of them try it, and fall into arrear, and\nare ejected, or want to introduce whole families into a single room, as\nthey do in these surrounding courts and alleys, and this, of course, is\nnot permitted. Imagine one vast building crowded at the same rate as\nsome of these two-storeyed houses are! Ask the missionary, whose duty\ntakes her up scores of creaking staircases, to places where eight or ten\nhuman beings eat, drink, sleep, and even work, in one small room--where\nfather, mother, children, and sometimes also a brother or sister-in-law,\nherd together, that they may live on the common earnings; places where\nchildren are born, and men, women, and children die; and the new-born\nbabe must be clothed by the aid of the \"maternity box,\" and the dead\nmust be buried by the help of money advanced to pay for the plainest\ndecent funeral.\n\nI do not propose to take you to any of these sights. You could do little\ngood unless you became familiar with them, and entered into the work of\nvisitation. Even in the published reports of the organisation to which\nwe are now going, the \"cases\" are not dwelt upon, only one or two are\ngiven from the experiences of the missionary, and she speaks of them\nsimply as examples of the kind of destitution which characterises a\ndistrict where deplorable poverty is the result sometimes of drink, or\nwhat, for want of a word applicable to the saving of pence, is termed\nimprovidence; but frequently also, because of sickness, and the want\neven of poorly-paid employment. \"In such cases,\" says the report,\n\"almost everything is parted with to procure food and shelter _outside_\nthe workhouse.\"\n\nOne of the two \"ordinary\" cases referred to was that of a poor woman who\nwas \"found lying on a sack of shavings on the floor, with an infant two\ndays old; also a child lying dead from fever, and two other children\ncrying for food. None had more than a solitary garment on. The smell of\nthe room was such that the missionary was quite overcome until she had\nopened the window. Clean linen was obtained, and their temporal and\nspiritual wants at once looked after.\" This was in the Report of above a\nyear ago; but cases only just less distressing occur daily still. This\nfoul and neglected district, which lies like an ulcer upon the great\nopulent city, the centre of civilization and benevolence, seems to be as\nfar from us as though it were a part of some savage or semi-heathen land\nunder British influence. Indeed, in the latter case, there would be a\nprobability of more earnest effort on behalf of the benighted people, on\nwhose behalf meetings would perhaps be held, and a committee of inquiry\nand distribution appointed. Still, let us be thankful that something is\ndone. Twenty-nine poor mothers have had the benefit of the maternity\nfund and clothing, the Report tells us. \"They are very grateful for this\nassistance in their terrible need. Frequently the distress is so great\nthat two changes of clothing are given to mother and babe, or they would\nbe almost entirely denuded when the time arrived for returning the\nboxes. Our lady subscribers at a distance may be glad to know that\nblankets, sheets, flannel petticoats, warm shawls, and babies' clothing\nwill always be acceptable.\" Thus writes Mrs. Orsman on the subject, for\nthe mission is known as the Golden Lane Mission, and more popularly as\n\"Mr. Orsman's Mission to the Costermongers.\" Perhaps these words\nscarcely denote the scope of the work; but costermongers must be taken\nas a representative term in a district where, in an area of a square\nquarter of a mile, there are, or recently were, eighty public-houses and\nbeershops, and a dense mass of inhabitants, including street-traders or\nhucksters, labourers, charwomen, road-sweepers, drovers, French\npolishers, artificial flower-makers, toy-makers, with what is now a\ncompact and really representative body of costermongers, working\nearnestly enough to keep to the right way, and, as they always did,\nforming a somewhat distinctive part of the population.\n\nSixteen years ago, Mr. Orsman began the work of endeavouring to carry\nthe gospel to the rough-and-ready savages of this benighted field for\nmissionary enterprise. He held an official appointment, and this was his\nbusiness \"after office hours.\" About the results of his own labour he\nand his Reports are modestly reticent, but at all events it began to\nbear fruit. Others joined in it; a regular mission was established, and,\nwith vigorous growth, shot out several branches, so wisely uniting what\nmay be called the secular or temporal with the spiritual and religious\ninterest, that the Bread of Life was not altogether separated from that\nneed for the bread which perishes. These branches are full of sap\nto-day, and one of them is also full of promising buds and blossoms, if\nwe are to judge of the rows of ragged--but not unhappy--urchins who fill\nthis large room or hall of the Mission-house.\n\nIt is only the first-floor of two ordinary houses knocked into one, but\na great work is going on. The parochial school was once held here, and\nnow the room is full of children who might still be untaught but for the\neffort which made the Ragged School a first consideration in an\nendeavour to redeem the whole social life of the district. Wisely\nenough, the School Board accepted the aid which this free day-school for\nragged and nearly destitute children affords to a class which the\nEducation Act has not yet taught us how to teach.\n\nIn four years, out of ninety-five boys and girls who entered situations\nfrom this school, only one was dismissed for dishonesty, and it was\nafterwards found that he was the dupe of the foreman of the place at\nwhich he worked.\n\nWell may Mr. Harwood, the school superintendent, be glad in the labour\nthat he has learnt to love in spite of all the sordid surroundings.\nThere is life in the midst of these dim courts--a ragged-school and a\nchurch, which is poor, but not, strictly speaking, ragged. In fact, \"the\npatching class\" for ragged boys, which meets on Thursdays, from five to\nseven in the afternoon, remedies even the tattered garments of the poor\nlittle fellows, who, having only one suit, must take off their\nhabiliments in order to mend them. Occasional gifts of second-hand\nclothes are amongst the most useful stock of the schoolmaster, as\nanybody may believe who sees the long rows of children, many of them,\nlike our juvenile guide, with two odd boots, which are mere flaps of\nleather, and attire which it would be exaggeration to call a jacket and\ntrousers.\n\nThe school-room is also the church and the lecture-hall. It will hold\n300 people; and the Sunday-evening congregation fills it thoroughly,\nwhile, on week-nights, special services, and frequently lectures,\nentertainments, and attractive social gatherings bring the costers and\ntheir friends in great force.\n\nThe chief of the costermongers is the Earl of Shaftesbury; and here,\nstanding as it were at livery in a quiet corner of a shanty close to the\ncoal-shed, is the earl's barrow, emblazoned with his crest. This\nremarkable vehicle, and a donkey complimentarily named the \"Earl,\" which\ntook a prize at a Golden Lane donkey show, designate his lordship as\npresident of the \"Barrow Club,\" a flourishing institution, intended to\nsupersede the usurious barrow-lenders, who once let out these necessary\nadjuncts to the costermongering business at a tremendous hire. Now the\nproprietors of the barrows, going on the hire and ultimate\npurchase-system, are prospering greatly. There are free evening classes,\nmothers' meetings, a free lending library, a free singing class, a penny\nsavings bank, dinners to destitute children, numbering more than 10,000\na year, a soup-kitchen, tea-meetings, and other agencies, all of which\nare kept going morning, noon, and night, within the narrow limits of\nthese two houses made into one. It is here, too, that the annual meeting\nis held, an account of which every year filters through the newspapers\nto the outer world--\"The Costermongers' Annual Tea-Party.\" The records\nof this united and earnest assembly have been so recently given to the\npublic, that I need not repeat them to you as we stand here in the lower\nrooms, whence the big cakes, the basins of tea, the huge sandwiches of\nbread and beef, were conveyed to the 200 guests. But as we depart, after\nshaking Mr. Harwood by the hand, let me remind you that it has been by\nthe hearty, human, living influence of religion that these results have\nbeen effected. The stones of scientific or secular controversy have not\nbeen offered instead of food spiritual and temporal. The mission-hall\nhas been made the centre; and from it has spread various healing,\npurifying, ameliorating influences. From this we may well take a lesson\nfor the benefit of another organised effort which appeals to us for\nhelp--that of the London City Mission. This institution is trying to\neffect for various districts and several classes of the poor and\nignorant in and about London that introduction of religious teaching\nwhich Mr. Orsman began with amongst the costermongers and others in the\nbenighted locality where now a clear light has begun to shine.\n\nAt a recent meeting of the promoters of the City Mission work, held at\nthe Mansion House, it was stated that the 427 missionaries then employed\nby the society were chosen without distinction, except that of fitness\nfor the office, from Churchmen, Presbyterians, Congregationalists,\nWesleyans, and Baptists, while the examining and appointing committee\nwere composed of thirteen clergymen of the Established Church and\nthirteen Dissenting ministers.\n\nAnybody who is accustomed to visit the worst neighbourhoods of London\nwill know that these missionaries go where the regular clergy cannot\neasily penetrate, and where even the parish doctor seldom lingers. Every\nmissionary visits once a month about 500 families, or 2,000 persons.\nThey read the Scriptures, exhort their listeners, hold prayer and Bible\nmeetings, distribute copies of the Scriptures, see that children go to\nschool, address the poor in rooms when they cannot persuade them to go\nto church, visit and pray with the dying, lend books, hold open-air\nservices, endeavour to reclaim drunkards (1,546 were so restored during\nthe last year), admonish and frequently reclaim the vicious, raise the\nfallen, and place them in asylums or induce them to return to their\nhomes, and work constantly for the great harvest of God to which they\nare appointed.\n\nThen there are special missionaries appointed to visit bakers, cabmen,\ndrovers, omnibus men, soldiers, sailors, and foreigners of various\ncountries. They also go to tanneries, the docks, workhouses, hospitals,\nand other places; and there is a vast harvest yet, without a sickle to\nreap even a single sheaf. When will the time come, that, to the means\nfor carrying the sustaining comfort of the Word to men's souls, will be\nadded some means of helping them to realise it by such temporal aid as\nwill raise them from the want which paralyses and the degradation which\nbenumbs?\n\n\n\n\n_GIVING THE FEEBLE STRENGTH._\n\n\nI have had occasion lately to take you with me to some of the worst\n\"parts of London.\" The phrase has become so common, that there is some\ndifficulty in deciding what it means; and we are obliged to come to the\nconclusion, that in every quarter of this great metropolis, large and\nlofty buildings, splendid mansions, gorgeous shops, and even stately\npalaces, are but symbols of the partial and imperfect development of\ntrue national greatness, and can scarcely be regarded as complete\nevidences of genuine civilisation, if by that word we are to mean more\nthan was expressed by it in heathen times, and amidst pagan people.\nPerhaps there is no more terrible reflection, amidst all the pomp and\nmagnificence, the vast commercial enterprise and constantly accumulating\nwealth of this mighty city, than that here we may also find the extremes\nof want and misery, of vice and poverty, of ignorance and suffering.\nSide by side with all that makes material greatness--riches, learning,\nluxury, extravagance--are examples of the deepest necessity and\ndegradation. \"The rich and the poor\" do indeed \"meet together\" in a very\nsad sense. It would be well if the former would complete the text for\nthemselves, and take its meaning deep into their hearts.\n\nThere is reason for devout thankfulness, however, that here and there\namidst the abodes of rich and poor alike, some building with special\ncharacteristics may be seen; that not only the church but the charity\nwhich represents practical religion does make vigorous protest against\nthe merely selfish heaping-up of riches without regard to the cry of the\npoor. There are few neighbourhoods in which a Refuge for the homeless, a\nsoup-kitchen, a ragged-school, a \"servants home,\" an orphanage, a\nhospital or some asylum for the sick and suffering, does not relieve\nthat sense of neglect and indifference which is the first painful\nimpression of the thoughtful visitor to those \"worst quarters,\" which\nyet lie close behind the grand thoroughfares and splendid edifices that\ndistinguish aristocratic and commercial London.\n\nI have said enough for the present about those poverty-haunted districts\nof Shoreditch, Spitalfields, and Bethnal Green, to warrant me in taking\nyou through them without further comment than suffices to call your\nattention to the poorly-paid industries, the want and suffering, and the\ntoo frequent neglect of the means of health and cleanliness which\nunhappily distinguish them and the surrounding neighbourhoods lying\neastward. The weaver's colony can now scarcely be said to survive the\nchanges wrought by the removal of an entire industry from Spitalfields\nto provincial manufactories, and the vast importations of foreign silks,\nand yet there is in this part of London a great population of workers at\ncallings which are scarcely better paid than silk weaving had come to\nbe, previous to its comparative disappearance.\n\nMarvellous changes have been effected in the way of buildings and\nimprovements during the last thirty years, but much of the poverty and\nsickness that belonged to these neighbourhoods remain. The looms may be\nsilent in the upper workshops with their wide leaden casements, but the\nlabour by which the people live seldom brings higher wages than suffice\nfor mere subsistence. The great building in which treasures of art and\nscience are collected is suggestive of some kind of recognition of the\nneed of the inhabitants for rational recreation and instruction, and\nwhat is perhaps more to the purpose, it is also a recognition of their\ndesire for both; but it cannot be denied that the recognition has come\nlate, and has not been completely accompanied by those provisions for\npersonal comfort, health, and decency, which a stringent application of\nexisting laws might long ago have ensured in neighbourhoods that for\nyears were suffered to remain centres of pestilence.\n\nThe greatest change ever effected in this quarter of London was that\nwhich followed the formation of Victoria Park. That magnificent area,\nwith its lakes and islands, its glorious flower-beds and plantations,\nits cricket-ground and great expanse of open field, made Bethnal Green\nfamous. There had always been a fine stretch of open country beyond what\nwas known as \"the Green,\" on which the building of the Museum now\nstands. A roadway between banks and hedges skirting wide fields led to\nthe open space where a queer old mansion could be seen amidst a few tall\ntrees, while beyond this again, across the canal bridge, were certain\ncountry hostelries, one of them with what was, in that day, a famous\n\"tea-garden;\" and, farther on, a few farms and some large old-fashioned\nprivate residences stood amidst meadows, gardens, and cattle pastures,\non either side of the winding road leading away to the Hackney Marshes\nand the low-lying fields beyond the old village of Homerton. It was on a\nlarge portion of this rural area that Victoria Park was founded. Tavern\nand farmhouse disappeared; the canal bridge was made ornamental; and\njust beyond the queer old mansion that stood by the roadway, the great\nstone and iron gates of \"the people's pleasure-ground\" were erected.\n\nNow, the mansion, to which I have already twice referred, was in fact\none of the few romantic buildings of the district, for it was what\nremained of the house of the persecuting Bishop Bonner, and the four\nmost prominent of the tall trees--those having an oblong or pit\nexcavation of the soil at the foot of each--were traditionally the\nlandmarks of the martyrdom of four sisters who were there burnt at the\nstake and buried in graves indicated by the hollows in the ground, which\npopular superstition had declared could never be filled up.\n\nThat they have been filled up long ago, and that on the site of the\nancient house itself another great building has been erected, you may\nsee to-day as we stand at the end of the long road leading to the\nentrance of \"the people's park.\"\n\nThe abode of cruelty and bigotry has been replaced by one of the most\ntruly representative of all our benevolent institutions. The graves of\nthe martyred sisters might well take a new meaning if the spot could now\nbe discovered in the broad and beautifully planted garden, where feeble\nmen and women sun themselves into returning life and strength amidst the\ngentle summer air blowing straight across from the broad woods of Epping\nand Hainault miles away.\n\nThe people's playground is fitly consummated by the people's hospital.\nThat the City of London Hospital for Diseases of the Chest, Victoria\nPark, might well be called \"the people's,\" is shown, not because it is\nsupported by state aid or by charitable endowment, on the contrary, it\ndepends entirely on those voluntary contributions and subscriptions\nwhich have hitherto enabled it successfully to carry on a noble work,\nbut yet have only just sufficed to supply its needs, \"from hand to\nmouth.\" Yet it is essentially devoted to patients who belong to the\nworking population. Like the park itself it attracts crowds of visitors,\nnot only from the City, from Bethnal Green, Mile End, Poplar, Islington,\nCamden Town, and other parts of London, but even from distant places\nwhence excursionists come to see and to enjoy it. This hospital receives\npatients from every part of London, and even from distant country\nplaces. There were seven inmates from York last year, as well as some\nfrom Somerset, Hereford, Derby, Lincolnshire, Lancashire, Norfolk,\nSuffolk, Huntingdon, Northampton, Wiltshire, and other counties; so that\nin fact the districts of Bethnal Green, Spitalfields, and Shoreditch,\nrepresented only a very small proportion of the 781 in-patients and the\n13,937 out-patients, who were admitted to medical treatment during the\ntwelve months. More than this, however, amongst the contributions which\nare made for the support of this hospital, there must be reckoned those\ncollected by working men of the district in their clubs and\nassociations, in token of the appreciation of benefits bestowed by such\nan institution to failing men and women, wives and shopmates and\nrelatives, who being threatened or actually stricken down with one of\nthose diseases which sap the life and leave the body prostrate, require\nprompt skill and medical aid, even if they are not in absolute need of\nnourishing food and alleviating rest.\n\nStanding here, in front of this broad noble building, with its many\nwindows, its picturesque front of red brick and white stone, its central\ntower, its sheltered garden-walks, and pleasant lawn, we may well feel\nglad to hear that the work done within its wards is known and\nrecognised. What a work it is can only be estimated by those who\nremember how fell is the disease from which so many of the patients\nsuffer, and how great a thing it has been, even where cures could not be\neffected, usefully to prolong the lives of hundreds of those who must\nhave died but for timely aid. Nay, even at the least, the alleviation of\nsuffering to those on whom death had already laid his hand has been no\nsmall thing; and when we know that of 240,000 out-patients who have\nreceived advice and medicines, and 10,400 in-patients whose cases have\nwarranted their admission to the wards, a large number of actual cures\nhave been effected since the establishment of this hospital, we are\nentitled to regard the institution as one of the most useful that we\nhave ever visited together.\n\nLet us enter, not by the handsome broad portico in the centre of the\nbuilding, but at the out-patients' door, in order that we may see the\ntwo waiting-rooms, where men and women bring their letters of admission,\nor attend to see one of the three consulting physicians. Of these three\ngentlemen the senior is Dr. Peacock, of whom it may be said that he is\nthe organiser of the hospital, the efficiency of which is mainly due to\nhis direction. This is no small praise, I am aware, but there are so\nmany evidences of thorough unity and completeness in all the details of\nmanagement that, considering how great a variety of cases are included\nunder \"diseases of the chest,\" from the slow insidious but fatal ravages\nof consumption to the sudden pang and deadly spasm of heart disease, and\nthe various affections of throat and lungs, it may easily be seen how\nmuch depends upon the adoption of a system initiated by long study and\nexperience. The perfect arrangements which distinguish this hospital are\ndoubtless rendered easier by ample space and admirable appliances.\nPlenty of room and plenty of air (air, however, which has been warmed to\none even temperature before it enters the wards and corridors where the\npatients eat and drink, sleep and walk) are the first characteristics of\nthe place, while a certain chaste simplicity of ornament, and yet an\navoidance of mere utilitarian bareness, is to be observed in all that\nportion of the structure where decoration may naturally be expected.\n\nThe board-room, the secretary's room, and the various apartments devoted\nto the resident officers on the ground-floor, are plain enough, however,\nthough they are of good size and proportions, the only really ornamental\narticle of furniture in the board-room being a handsome semi-grand\npiano, the gift of one of the committee. This is a real boon to such of\nthe patients as can come to practise choral singing, as well as to those\nwho can listen delightedly to the amateur concerts that are periodically\nperformed, either in the hospital itself or in one of the wards. For\nthey have cheerful entertainments in this resort of the feeble, where,\nto tell the truth, food is often the best physic, and sympathy and\nencouragement the most potent alleviations.\n\nAs to the actual physic--the employment of medicines--it is only in some\nof the large endowed hospitals that we can see such a dispensary as this\nspacious room, with its surrounding rows of bottles and drawers, its two\nopen windows, one communicating with the men's and the other with the\nwomen's waiting room, its slabs, and scales and measures, on a central\ncounter, where 380 prescriptions will have to be made up to-day before\nthe alert and intelligent gentleman and his assistants who have the\ncontrol of this department, will be able to replace the current stock\nout of the medical stores.\n\nThese small cisterns, each with its tap, occupying so prominent a place\non the counter, represent the staple medicine of the establishment, pure\ncod-liver oil, of which 1,200 gallons are used every year, and they are\nconstantly replenished from three large cylinders, or vats, containing\n800 gallons, which occupy a room of their own adjoining the dispensary\nand the compounding room, the latter being the place where drugs are\nprepared, and the great art of pill-making is practised on a remarkable\nscale.\n\nContinuing our walk round the hospital, we come to the consulting-rooms,\nwhere the physicians attend daily at two o'clock, each to see his own\npatients, and the reception-room, where an officer takes the letters of\nintroduction, and exchanges them for attendance cards. This is the door\nof the museum; and though we shall be admitted, if you choose to\naccompany me, it is, like other surgical museums, of professional more\nthan general interest, and not a public portion of the hospital. Turning\ninto the great main corridor, with its peculiar honeycombed red-brick\nceiling and pleasant sense of light and air, we will ascend the broad\nstaircase to the wards, those of the women being on the first floor,\nwhile the men occupy a precisely similar ward on the second. These wards\nconsist of a series of rooms of from two to six, eight, and twelve beds\neach, so as to afford opportunity for the proper classification of the\ncases. A day-room is also provided for each set of wards, so that those\npatients who are well enough to leave their beds may take their meals\nthere, or may read, play at chess, draughts, or bagatelle, or occupy\nthemselves with needlework. These wards and their day-rooms all open\ninto a light cheerful corridor, with large windows, where the inmates\nmay walk and talk, or read and rest, sitting or reclining upon the\ncouches and settees that are placed at intervals along the wall. All\nthrough these rooms and corridors the air is kept at a medium\ntemperature of from fifty-five to sixty degrees, by means of hot-air or\nhot-water apparatus, the latter being in use as well as the former. You\nnoticed, as we stood in the grounds, a large square structure of a\nmonumental character;--that was in fact the chamber through the sides of\nwhich draughts of air are carried to channels beneath the building,\nthere they are drawn around a furnace, to be heated, and to escape\nthrough pipes that are grouped about the entire building. In order to\nensure the necessary comfort of patients requiring a higher temperature,\neach ward is provided with an open fire-place.\n\nIt is now just dinner-time. The ample rations of meat and vegetables,\nfish and milk, and the various \"special diets,\" are coming up on the\nlift from the kitchens, and in the women's day-room a very comfortable\nparty is just sitting down to the mid-day meal. Here, as elsewhere,\ngreater patience and more genuine cheerfulness are to be observed among\nthe women, than is as a rule displayed by the men, and there are not\nwanting signs of pleasant progress towards recovery, of grateful\nappreciation of the benefits received, and of a hopeful trusting spirit,\nwhich goes far to aid the doctor and the nurse. There are, of course,\nsome sad sights. Looking into the wards, we may see more than one woman\nfor whom only a few hours of this mortal life remain; more than one\nchild whose emaciated form and face looks as though death itself could\nbring no great change. Yet it must be remembered that cases likely soon\nto terminate fatally are not admitted. The severity of the diseases and\ntheir frequently fatal character under any condition will account for\nthe large proportion of sickness unto death which finds here alleviation\nbut not absolute cure; though, of course, the sufferers from heart\ndisease, who are on the whole the most cheerful, as well as those whose\naffections of the lungs can be sensibly arrested, if not altogether\nhealed, are frequently restored to many years of useful work in the\nworld. On this second storey, in the men's ward, there are some very\nserious cases, and some sights that have a heartache in them; yet they\nare full of significance, for many of them include the spectacle of\nGod's sweet gift of trust and patience--the mighty courage of a quiet\nmind. Yonder is a courageous fellow, who, suffering from a terrible\naneurism, had to cease his daily labour, and now lies on his back,\nhopeful of cure, with a set still face and a determined yet wistful look\nat the resident medical officer, or the nurse who adjusts the\nindia-rubber ice-bag on his chest. Here, near the door, is that which\nshould make us bow our heads low before the greatest mystery of mortal\nlife. Not the mystery of death, but the mystery of meeting death and\nawaiting it. A brave, patient, noble man is sitting up in that bed, his\nhigh forehead, fair falling hair, long tawny beard, and steady placid\neye, reminding one of some picture of Norseman or Viking. Lean and gaunt\nenough in frame, his long thin hand is little but skin and bone, but it\nis clasped gently by the sorrowing wife, who sits beside him, and\nglances at us through tearful eyes as we enter. One can almost believe\nthat the sick man who is going on the great journey whither he cannot\nyet take the wife who loves him, has been speaking of it calmly, there\nis such an inscrutable look of absolute repose in that face. He is a\nDane, and the doctor tells us has borne his illness and great pain with\na quiet courage that has challenged the admiration of those about him--a\ncourage born of simple faith, let us believe, a calm resting on an\neternal foundation of peace. Here, in the corridor, is a party, some of\nits members still very weak and languid, who, having just dined, are\nabout to take the afternoon lounge, with book or newspaper, and, leaving\nthem, we will conclude our visit by descending to the basement, whence\nthe chief medicine comes in the shape of wholesome nourishing food, of\nmeat and fish, of pure farina, of wine, and milk, and fresh eggs, of\nclean pure linen, and even of ice, for ice is a large ingredient here,\nand several tons are consumed every year. The domestic staff have their\napartments in this basement portion of the building, another division of\nwhich is occupied by the kitchens and storerooms, while lifts for coal\nand daily meals and every other requisite, ascend to the upper wards,\nand shoots or wells from the upper floors convey linen and bedding that\nrequire washing, as well as the dust and refuse of the wards, to special\nreceptacles.\n\nThe kitchen itself is a sight worth seeing with its wide open range,\nwhere prime joints are roasting, or have been roasted, and are now being\ncut into great platefuls for the ordinary full-diet patients. In the\ngreat boilers and ovens, vegetables and boiled meats, farinaceous\npuddings, rice, tapioca, fish, and a dozen other articles of pure diet\nare being prepared, while a reservoir of strong beef-tea represents the\nnourishment of those feeble ones to whom liquid, representing either\nmeat or milk, is all that can be permitted. We have little time to\nremain in the separate rooms, which are cool tile-lined larders, where\nbread and milk and meat are kept, but among the records of donations and\ncontributions to the hospital it is very pleasant to read of the\nmultifarious gifts of food and other comforts sent from time to time by\nbenevolent friends. They consist of baskets of game, fruits, rice, tea,\nflour, books, warm clothing for poor patients leaving the hospital,\nprints, pictures, fern-cases, all kinds of useful articles, showing how\nthoughtful the donors are, of what will be a solace and a comfort to the\npatients, while not the least practically valuable remittances are\nbundles of old linen. Still more touching, however, are the records of\ngifts brought by patients themselves, or by their friends.\n\n\"I was a patient here four years ago,\" says a man who has made his way\nto the secretary's room, \"and I made up my mind that if ever I could\nscrape a guinea together I should bring it, and now I have, and here it\nis, if you'll be so good as to take it, for I want to show I'm truly\ngrateful.\"\n\n\"If you'll please accept it from us; my husband and I have put by\nfifteen shillings, and want to give it to the hospital for your kindness\nto our son, who was here before he died.\"\n\nThese are the chronicles that show this to be a people's hospital\nindeed, and that should open the hearts of those who can take pounds\ninstead of shillings. In such cases the secretary has ventured to remind\nthe grateful donors that they may be unable to afford to leave their\nsavings, but the evident pain, even of the hint of refusal, was reason\nfor accepting the poor offering. Poor, did I say? nay, rich--rich in all\nthat can really give value to such gifts, the wealth of the heart that\nmust be satisfied by giving.\n\nThere is one more adjunct to this great human conservatory which we must\nsee before we leave. Down four shallow stone steps from the corridor,\nand along a cheerful quiet sub-corridor, is the chapel. A very beautiful\nbuilding, with no stained glass or sumptuous detail of ornament, and yet\nso admirable in its simple architectural decoration and perfect\nproportions, that it is an example of what such a place should be. It is\ncapable of seating three or four hundred persons, and visitors are\nfreely admitted to the Sunday services when there is room, though of\ncourse seats are reserved for the patients, who have \"elbows\" provided\nin their pews, that they may be able to lean without undue fatigue. The\nchapel itself was a gift of a beneficent friend, and was presented\nanonymously. One day an architect waited on the committee, and simply\nsaid that if they would permit a chapel to be erected on a vacant space\nin their grounds, close to the main building, he had plans for such a\nstructure with him, and the whole cost would be defrayed by a client of\nhis, who, however, would not make known his name. The gift was accepted,\nand the benevolent contract nobly fulfilled. I should be glad to hear\nthat some other charitable donor had sent in like manner an offer of\nfunds to fill those two great vacant wards which, waiting for patients,\nare among the saddest sights in this hospital.\n\n\n\n\n_HEALING THE SICK._\n\n\nAmidst the numerous great charities which distinguish this vast\nmetropolis, hospitals must always hold a prominent if not preeminent\nplace. Helpless infancy, the weakness and infirmity of old age, and\nprostration by sudden accident, or the ravages of disease, are the\nconditions that necessarily appeal to humanity. The latter especially is\nso probable an occurrence to any of us, that we are at once impressed by\nthe necessity for providing some means for its alleviation. Helpless\nchildhood has passed, old age may seem to be in too dim a future to\nchallenge our immediate attention; but sickness, sudden disaster, who\nshall be able to guard against these, in a world where the strongest are\noften smitten down in the full tide of apparent health; where, in the\nstreets alone, fatal accidents are reckoned monthly as a special item in\nRegistrars' returns, and injuries amount annually to hundreds?\n\nThe great endowed hospitals, therefore, those magnificent monuments of\ncharity which have distinguished London for so many years, and the value\nof which in extending the science of medicine can scarcely be overrated,\nare regarded by us all with veneration. At the same time we ought to\nfeel a certain thrill of pleasure, a satisfaction not far removed from\nkeen emotion, when we see inscribed on the front of some building, large\nor small, where the work of healing is being carried on, the words,\n\"Supported by Voluntary Contributions.\" One other condition, too, seems\nnecessary to the complete recognition of such a charity as having\nattained to the full measure of a truly beneficent work--admission to it\nshould be free: free not only from any demand for money payments, but\nuntrammelled by the necessity for seeking, often with much suffering and\ndelay, a governor's order or letter, by which alone a patient can be\nreceived in many of our otherwise admirable and useful institutions for\nthe sick. It should be remembered that immediate aid is of the utmost\nimportance in the effort to heal the sick, and that delays, proverbially\ndangerous, are in such cases cruel, often fatal, always damaging to the\nsense of true beneficence, of the extension of help because of the\n_need_ rather than for the sake of any particular influence. It would\nseem that we have no right to hesitate, or to insist on the observance\nof certain forms, before succouring the grievously sick and wounded, any\nmore than we have to withhold food from the starving till ceremonial\ninquiries are answered, and certificates of character obtained. There\nare cases of poverty, and even of suffering, where inquiry before\nultimate and continued relief may be useful, and personal influence may\nbe necessary, but extreme hunger and nakedness, cold and houselessness,\nsudden injury or maiming, the pain of disease, the deep and touching\nneed of the sick and helpless, are not such. Prompt and effectual\nmeasures for relief, and, if necessary, admission to the place where\nthat relief can alone be afforded, will be the only means of completely\nmeeting these wants. Free hospitals, freer even than workhouses, are\nwhat we need, and I am about to visit one of them to-day which rejoices\nin its name, \"The Royal Free Hospital,\" now in its forty-seventh year of\nuseful and, I am glad to say, of vigorous life.\n\nTo anyone acquainted with that strange neighbourhood which is\nrepresented by Gray's Inn Lane and all the queer jumble of courts and\nalleys that seem to shrink behind the shelter of the broad thoroughfare\nof Holborn, there is something consistent in the establishment of such a\nnoble charity as this hospital in Gray's Inn Road. Its very position\nseems to indicate the nature and extent of its duties. Near the homes of\npoverty, the streets where people live who cannot go far to seek aid in\ntheir extremest need, it receives those who, breaking down through\nsudden disease, or requiring medical and surgical skill to relieve the\npain and weakness of recurrent malady, have no resource but this to\nenable them to fulfil their one great desire \"to get back to work.\" The\ncauses of much of the sickness which sends patients thither may be\npreventable: they may be found in foul dwellings, impure water,\ninsufficient clothing, want of proper food, alternate hunger and\nintemperance; but whatever may be its occasion, a remedy must be found\nfor it. Till all that is preventable _is_ prevented, the consequences\nwill have to be mitigated, the fatal results averted where it is\npossible; and when boards of health and sanitary measures have done,\nthere will still be sick men to heal, failing children to strengthen,\nweak and wasting women to restore.\n\nIt is well, then, that this Institution should stand as a landmark of\nthat free charity which takes help where it is needed most; and this\nqualification is the more obvious when we turn from the sick wards to\nthe accident wards, and remember that three great railway termini are\nclose at hand, and others not far off; that all round that teeming\nneighbourhood men, women, and even children, are working at poor\nhandicrafts, which render them liable to frequent injuries, and that in\nthe crowded streets themselves--from the great busy thoroughfare of\nHolborn, to the bustle and confusion of the approaches to the stations\nat King's Cross--there is constant peril to life and limb.\n\nThere is something so remarkable in the external appearance of the\nbuilding, such a military look about its bold front, such a suggestion\nof a cavalry yard about the broad open area behind this tall wooden\nentrance gate, that you begin to wonder how such a style of architecture\nshould have been adopted for a hospital. The truth is that like\nmany--nay, like most of our noblest work--this great provision for\nhealing the sick began by not waiting for full-blown opportunities. The\nneed was there, and the means that came to hand were used to meet it.\nThis building was originally the barracks of that loyal and efficient\nregiment, the \"Light Horse Volunteers,\" and so excellently had those\ngallant defenders of king and constitution provided for their own\ncomfort and security, that when in 1842 the premises were vacant, and\nthe lease for sale, the governors of the Royal Free Hospital became the\npurchasers, the long rooms were easily turned into ample, cheerful, and\nwell-ventilated wards, and the various outbuildings and offices were\nquickly adapted to the reception of patients.\n\nBut the hospital had at that date been working quietly and effectually\nfor above fourteen years. Fourteen years before its inauguration in\nGray's Inn Road, this \"free\" hospital, which was not then \"royal,\" had\nbeen commenced in Greville Street, Hatton Garden, and the immediate\nincident which led to its foundation is so suggestive, so inseparable\nfrom the recollection of the want which it was designed to alleviate,\nand from its own generous recognition of the unfailing freedom of true\ncharity, that it might well be the subject of a memorial picture. Alas!\nit would be a tragic reminder of those days before any provision was\nmade for extending medical aid to sufferers who had no credentials save\nhumanity and their own deep necessity. It would be a grim reminder to\nus, also, that some of our great charities established for the relief of\nthe sick are still trammelled with those restrictions which demand\nrecommendations, to obtain which the applicant is often condemned to\ndelay and disappointment. It would show us that our hospitals are not\nyet free.\n\nThose of my readers who can remember the entrance to the broad highway\nof Holborn nearly fifty years ago--stay, that is going back beyond\nprobable acknowledgment,--let me say those of us who knew Smithfield\nwhen it was a cattle market, who had heard of \"Cow Cross,\" and been told\nof the terrible purlieux of Field Lane; who had occasionally caught a\nglimpse of that foul wilderness of courts that clustered about the Fleet\nDitch; had read of Mr. Fagin, when \"Oliver Twist\" was first appearing in\nchapters, and had dim recollections of nursery tales about Bartlemy fair\nand \"hanging morning\" at the Old Bailey; those of us who remember the\ncries of drovers, and the lowing and bleating of herds and flocks in the\nstreets on Sunday nights; the terrible descent of Snow Hill; the\nconfusion and dismay of passengers and vehicles on the steep incline of\nHolborn Hill; the reek of all that maze of houses and hovels that lay in\nthe valley; those of us, in short, who can carry our memories back for a\nfew years beyond the time when the new cattle market was built at\nIslington, the pens and lairs of Smithfield demolished, the whole\nHolborn valley dismantled, only a remnant, a mere corner, of Field Lane\nbeing left standing after the great viaduct was built--can imagine what\nthe church of St. Andrew was like when, with its dark and dreary\nchurchyard, it stood on the slope of Holborn Hill, instead of being as\nit now is in a kind of subway. That churchyard, with its iron gate, was\nreached by stone steps, which were receptacles for winter rain and\nsummer dust, the straw from waggons, the shreds and sweepings from\nadjacent shops, the dirt and refuse of the streets.\n\nOn those steps a young girl was seen lying one night, in the winter of\n1827--lying helpless, lonely, perishing of disease and famine.\n\nThe clocks of St. Andrew, St. Sepulchre, St. Paul, had clanged and\nboomed amidst the hurry and the turmoil of the throng of passengers; had\nclanged and boomed till their notes might be heard above the subsiding\nroar of vehicles, and the shuffling of feet, till silence crept over the\ngreat city, and more distant chimes struck through the murky air,\ntolling midnight. Still that figure lay upon the cruel stones, under the\nrusty gate of the churchyard, as though, unfriended and unpitied by the\nworld, she waited for admission to the only place in which she might\nmake a claim in death, if not in life.\n\nNot more than eighteen years old, she had wandered wearily from some\ndistant place where fatal instalments of the wages of sin had done their\nwork. She had come to London unknown, unnoted, to die. That she had come\nfrom afar is but a surmise; she may have been a dweller in this great\ncity, lost amidst the stony desert of its streets, friendless with the\nfriendlessness of the outcast or the wretched, to whom the acquaintances\nof to-day have little care or opportunity to become the solacers of\nto-morrow; she may have crept to that dark corner by the churchyard\ngate, amongst the rack and refuse of the street, as a place in which\nshe, the unconsidered waste and refuse of our boasted civilisation,\ncould most fitly huddle from the cold. She was not left actually to die\nthere, but two days afterwards she passed out of the world where she had\nbeen unrecognised. Not without result, however.\n\nAmong those who had witnessed the distressing occurrence was a surgeon,\nMr. William Marsden, who for some time before had repeatedly seen cause\nto lament, that with all our endowed hospitals, our great medical\nschools, and the advance of scientific knowledge, the sick poor could\nonly obtain relief by means of letters of recommendation and other\ndelay, until the appointed days for admission. The sight that he had\nwitnessed awoke him to fresh energy. He determined to establish a\nmedical charity, where destitution or great poverty and disease should\nbe the only necessary credentials for obtaining free and _immediate_\nrelief. His honest benevolent purpose did not cool; in February in the\nfollowing year (1828), the house in Greville Street was open as a free\nhospital, and it was taken under the royal patronage of George IV., the\nDuke of Gloucester becoming its president.\n\nKing William IV. succeeded George IV. as the patron of this free\nhospital, and one of the earliest manifestations of the interest of our\nQueen in public charitable institutions was the expressed desire of her\nMajesty to maintain the support which it had hitherto received, and to\nconfer upon it the name of the _Royal_ Free Hospital.\n\nIt need scarcely be said that the late Duke of Sussex took a very strong\ninterest in this charity, and at his death it was determined to erect a\nnew wing, to be called \"the Sussex\" wing. This work was completed in\n1856; and in 1863, by the aid of a zealous and indefatigable chairman of\nthe committee, above \u00a35,000 was raised by special appeal for the\npurposes of buying the freehold of the entire building, so that it is\nnow, in every sense, a free hospital, with a noble history of suffering\nrelieved, of the sick healed, the deserted reclaimed, the sinful\nsuccoured, and those that were ready to perish snatched from the jaws of\ndeath.\n\nSince the foundation of the modest house in Hatton Garden in 1828 above\na million and a half of poor sick and destitute patients have obtained\nrelief, and the average of poor patients received within its wards is\nnow 1,500 annually, while 45,000 out-patients resort thither from all\nparts of London. The relief thus afforded costs some \u00a38,000 a year, and\nthis large sum has to be provided by appeals to the public for those\ncontributions by which alone the continued effort can be sustained.\n\nStanding here within the \"Moore\" ward, so called after the energetic\nchairman before referred to, I cannot think of any appeal that should be\nmore successful in securing public sympathy than these two\nstatements--First, that many of the inmates have been immediately\nreceived on their own application; and secondly, that, bearing in mind\nthe sad story which is, as it were, the story of the foundation of the\nhospital, this ward is occupied by women. Many of them are persons of\neducation and refinement, who yet would have no asylum if they had not\nbeen received within these sheltering walls, others may be poor,\nignorant, and perhaps even degraded, but divine charity is large enough\nto recognise in these the very need which such an effort is intended to\nalleviate. Here at least is a peaceful retreat, where in quiet\nreflection, in grateful recognition of mercies yet within reach, in the\nsound of pitying voices, and the touch of sympathetic hands, the weary\nmay find rest, the throes of pain may be assuaged.\n\nHere are the two fundamental rules of the hospital, and they form what\none might call a double-barrelled appeal not to be easily turned aside:--\n\n IN-DOOR PATIENTS.\n\n Foreigners, strangers, and others, in sickness or disease, having\n neither friends nor homes, are admitted to the Wards of this Hospital\n on their own application, so far as the means of the charity will\n permit.\n\n OUT-DOOR PATIENTS.\n\n All sick and diseased persons, having no other means of obtaining\n relief, may attend at this Hospital every day at Two o'clock, when they\n will receive Medical and Surgical Advice and Medicine free.\n\nEven while I read the latter announcement the out-patients are\nassembling in the waiting-room, on the right of the quadrangle; the\ndispenser, in his repository of drugs, surrounded by bottles, jars,\ndrawers, and all the appliances for making up medicines, has set his\nassistants to work, and is himself ready to begin the afternoon's duty;\nthe consulting-physician of the day has just taken his seat in one plain\nbarely-furnished apartment, the consulting-surgeon in another, while the\nresident house-surgeon has completed his first inspection of\nin-patients, and is ready with particulars of new cases.\n\nThese rooms, where patients assemble, and doctors consult, are on the\nright of the pleasant quadrangle, with its large centre oval garden\nplot, containing a double ring of trees; and here also is the reception\nroom for \"accidents\" and urgent cases--a very suggestive room, with\nstyptics, immediate remedies, and prompt appliances ready to hand, but\nlike all the rest of the official portion of the building, very plain\nand practical, with evidence of there being little time to regard mere\nease or ornament, and of a disregard of anything which is not associated\nwith the work that has to be done. It is the same with other apartments,\nwhere it is obvious that no unnecessary expenditure is incurred for mere\nofficial show.\n\nThe business of the place is to heal by means of food, of rest, and of\nmedicine, and there, on the left of the quadrangle, a flight of steps\nleads downwards to a wide area, where, in the kitchens, the domestic\nservants are busy clearing up, after serving the eighty-eight rations\nwhich have been issued for dinner--rations of fish, flesh, and fowl, or\nthose \"special diets\" which are taken under medical direction. There is\nsomething about this kitchen, the store-rooms, and offices, with the\nsteps leading thereto, and the cat sitting blinking in the sun, which\nirresistibly reminds me of the heights of Dover and some portion of the\nbarrack building there; the old military look of the place clings to\nthis Gray's Inn Road establishment still, and the visitor misses the\nwonderful appliances and mechanical adaptations of some more modern\ninstitutions, not even lifts to convey the dinners to the wards being\npossible in such an edifice.\n\nThere is some compensating comfort in noting, however, that the nursing\nstaff is so organised as to secure personal attention to the patients,\nand that the arrangements are touchingly homely, not only in regard to\nthe simple furniture, the few pictures and engravings, and the little\ncollection of books that are to be found in the wards, but also in the\nmatter of sympathetic, motherly, and sisterly help, which is less\nceremonious, but not less truly loving, than is to be found in some\nplaces of higher pretensions.\n\nHere, on the ground floor, the twenty-two beds of the men's severe\naccident ward are always full, and some of the cases are pitiable,\nincluding maiming by machinery, railway accidents, or injury in the\nstreets. The \"Marsden Ward,\" adjoining is devoted to injuries of a less\nserious kind, so that there many of the patients can help themselves. In\nthe women's accident ward there are three or four children, one of whom,\na pretty chubby-faced little girl of five years old, has not yet got\nover her astonishment at having been run over by a cab the day before\nyesterday, picked up and brought into this great room where most of the\npeople are in bed, only to hear that she is more frightened than hurt,\nand is to go home tomorrow. There are some other little creatures,\nhowever, suffering from very awkward accidents, and they seem to be\npetted and made much of, just as they are in the women's sick ward\nabove, where a delicate-faced intelligent girl, herself improving\ngreatly under prompt treatment for an early stage of phthisis, is\ndelighted to have a little companion to tea with her at her bed-side,\nthe child being allowed to sit up in a chair, and the pair of invalids\nbeing evidently on delightfully friendly terms. There is a lower ward,\nwith half a dozen little beds devoted solely to children, who are, I\nthink, all suffering from some form of disease of the joints. Alas! this\nclass of disease comes of foul dwellings, of impure or stinted food, of\nwant of fresh air and water; and it brings a pang to one's heart to note\nthe smiling little faces, the bright beaming eyes, the pretty engaging\ngrateful ways of some of these little ones, and yet to know how long a\ntime it must be before the results of the evil conditions of their lives\nwill be remedied at the present rate of procedure; how difficult a\nproblem it is to provide decent dwellings for the poor, in a city where\nneighbourhoods such as that which we have just traversed have grown like\nfungi, and cannot be uprooted without pain and loss which social\nreformers shrink from inflicting. Thinking of this, and of all that I\nhave seen in this Royal Free Hospital, I am glad to carry away from it\nthe picture of this child's ward and its two young nurses, though I\ncould wish that the walls of that and all the other wards were a little\nbrighter with more pictures, that a fresh supply of books might soon be\nsent to replenish the library, and that the flowers, that are so eagerly\naccepted to deck the tables of those poor sick rooms, and carry thither\na sense of freshness, colour, and beauty, may come from the gardens and\ngreenhouses of those who can spare of their abundance. To keep the\neighty-eight beds full requires constant dependence on public\ncontributions, and yet when we think of the work that is going on here,\nnot the eighty-eight only, but the whole number of 102 should be ready\nfor applicants, who would, even then, be far too numerous to be received\nat once in a hospital which, with a royal freedom of well-doing, sets an\nexample that might be hopefully followed by other and wealthier\ncharities for healing the sick.\n\n\n\n\n_WITH THE PRISONER._\n\n\nWhat is the first greeting which a convict receives when he or she is\ndischarged from prison?\n\nImagine, if you can, the shivering, shrinking, bewildered feeling of the\nman or woman who, after, undergoing a term of penal servitude, some of\nit passed in hours of solitary confinement, has all this great city\nsuddenly opened again, with its wilderness of streets, its crowd of\nunfamiliar faces, its tremendous temptations, its few resources for the\nfriendless and the suspected, its great broad thoroughfares, where on\nevery side may be seen evidences of wealth and plenty; where the tavern\nand the gin-shop offer a temporary solace to the wretched; and where,\nalso, in every neighbourhood, there are evil slums in which vice finds\ncompanionship, and the career of dishonesty and crime can be resumed\nwithout difficulty or delay.\n\nThose who have stood outside the walls of Clerkenwell or Coldbath Fields\nprison, and have watched the opening of the gates whence prisoners\nemerge into a freedom which is almost paralysing in its first effects,\nwill tell you how the appearance of these poor wretches is greeted in\nlow muttered tones by silent slouching men and women who await their\ncoming. How, after very few words of encouragement and welcome, they are\ntaken off to some adjacent public-house, there to celebrate their\nliberation; and how, almost before a word is spoken, the male prisoner\nis provided with a ready-lighted pipe from the mouth of one of his\nformer companions, in order that he may revive his sense of freedom by\nthe long-unaccustomed indulgence in tobacco.\n\nI should be very sorry to cavil at these marks of sympathy. They are\neminently human. They do not always mean direct temptation--that is to\nsay, they are not necessarily intended to induce the recipient to resume\nthe evil course which has led to a long and severe punishment. That the\nresult should be a gradual, if not an immediate, weakening of that\nremorse which is too frequently sorrow for having incurred the penalty\nrather than repentance of the sin that led to it, is obvious enough; but\nwhat else is to be expected? Not many men or women come out of gaol with\na very robust morality. Without entering into the question how far our\npresent system of prison discipline and management is calculated to\ninfluence the moral nature of culprits who are under punishments for\nvarious crimes, scarcely ever classified, and never regarded in relation\nto the particular circumstances under which they are committed or the\ncharacter and disposition, the social status, or the mental and moral\ncondition of the offender, it may be broadly and barely stated that our\npenal legislation is not effectual in promoting the reclamation of the\ncriminal.\n\nEven if some determination to begin life anew, to avoid associations\nthat have led to infamy and disgrace to accept any labour anywhere in\norder to obtain an honest subsistence, has been working in the mind of a\nconvict during the period of imprisonment, and under the advice and\nremonstrance of the chaplain and the governor, what is to sustain such\nhalf-formed resolutions? Supposing even that the discharged prisoner has\nbeen so amenable to the regulations of the gaol that he or she has had\nplaced to the credit account that weekly \"good-conduct money,\" which,\nwhen the term of punishment has ended, amounts to a sum sufficient to\nprovide for immediate necessities, where is employment to be looked for?\nIn what quarter is the owner of a few shillings--which may have to last\na week or more--to seek a lodging and a meal, and that companionship\nwhich must be one of the keenest longings of the newly-released and yet\nsolitary and half-dazed creature, who is ready to receive with grateful\navidity any friendly greeting that promises relief from the long\nmonotony of the gaol?\n\nSurely, then, there can be few conditions which appeal more forcibly to\nChristian beneficence than that of the captive who is released after\nhaving undergone a sentence of penal servitude, part of which has been\npassed in solitary confinement. Whatever may have been the impressions\nmade upon the mind during the period of punishment, and the influence\nexercised by instruction or exhortation, the very fact of regaining\nliberty, the excitement of freedom, and the uncertainty of the first\nsteps a man or woman is to take outside the prison walls, will always\ninvolve a danger, before which a very large proportion of released\nconvicts will succumb.\n\nWhat, then, is being done in order to extend a helping hand to these,\nwho are among the most destitute and unfortunate; who, even if they have\nrelatives, may be ashamed to seek their aid, or are doubtful of the\nreception that awaits them, while the only companionship which they can\nclaim at once, and without question, is that which will surround them\nwith almost irresistible incentives to a lawless life?\n\nIn the very centre of this vast metropolis, at the point where its great\nhighways converge, and yet in a modest quiet house standing a little\nback from the roar and turmoil of the main street, we shall find what we\nseek. Here, on the doorpost of No. 39, Charing Cross, is the name of\n\"The Discharged Prisoners' Aid Society,\" and in two or three offices on\nthe first floor--one of which is, in fact, a reception-room for the\ndischarged prisoners themselves--the work for which there is such a\nconstant and pressing need is steadily carried on, under the direction\nof a very distinguished committee, of whom the treasurer is the Hon.\nArthur Kinnaird, and the first honorary secretary, Mr. W. Bayne Ranken,\nwho is assisted by Mr. S. Whitbread and Mr. L. T. Cave. In looking at\nthe names of the gentlemen who are concerned in this admirable effort,\nyou will have noticed that some of them are also associated with other\ncharitable organisations which we have visited together, and notably\nwith those of that Soho district where we last joined in the musical\ndiversions of the Newport Market Refuge. As we enter this front office\nat Charing Cross, we have a pleasant reminder of that occasion, for we\nare welcomed by the indefatigable performer on the cornet, who, when we\nlast met him, was making \"the hills resound\" in the upper room of the\nold slaughter-house, and carrying all his juvenile military band with\nhim in one resonant outburst of harmony that awoke the echoes as far as\nSeven Dials. To-day he is carrying out his ordinary secretarial and\nmanagerial duties, as officially representing the Society, about which\nhe can give us some information worth hearing.\n\nBut there are other visitors for whom preparation has already been made\nin the next room--men dressed decently, and yet having a certain\nfurtive, unaccustomed bearing, as though they were not at the moment\nquite used to their clothes or to public observation. Some of them are\nnot without a truculent half-defiant expression lurking beneath their\nsubdued demeanour; others have an open, keen outlook; and a few others,\nagain, both in the shape of their head and the peculiar shifty\nexpression of eye and mouth, and one might also say of hand, would at\nonce be characterised by the experienced observer of London life as men\nwho had \"been in trouble\" more than once. On the table of the front\noffice the object which has at once attracted our attention is a\nperfectly new carpenter's basket containing a decent set of tools, and\nthe man for whom it is intended will be here for it by-and-by to take it\naway, just as the shoemaker who has just gone out has carried with him\n\"a kit,\" with which, in addition to a little stock of money, he is about\nto begin the world afresh, under the auspices of his friends, one of\nwhom--either a member of the committee, or the secretary, or one of the\nvisiting agents--will keep him in view, and give him an occasional\nencouraging call while he remains in the metropolitan district. If a\nsituation should be found for him in the provinces, either the clergyman\nof the district, or some other friend of the Society, is informed of his\nprevious history, and has a sincere interest in his well-doing. In no\ncase have the London police anything whatever to do with watching or\ninspecting discharged prisoners under the care of the Society; and, on\nthe other hand, it is a standing rule that where situations are found\nfor these men and women, the employers are informed of their previous\nhistory, though any recommendation of the Society may be regarded as a\nstrong inference that their _prot\u00e9g\u00e9_ is trying to redeem lost\ncharacter.\n\nIt must be remembered that a report of each of those who are under the\ncare of the Society is made at the office once a month, either by the\nman or woman in person, or by one of the visiting agents or\ncorrespondents of the committee of management; and that, though the\npolice are forbidden to interfere with them, except on strong suspicion\nthat they are about to commit a crime, the most accurate and careful\nrecord of their mode of life and conduct is kept at the offices of the\nSociety. Should they fail to observe the regulations which the Society\ndemands, they are liable to police surveillance instead of friendly,\nencouraging, and confidential visitation; and it needs scarcely be said\nthat this liability is often of itself sufficient to make them desire to\nretain the aid and protection which has been extended to them.\n\nFrom a long and tolerably intimate observation of the lower strata of\nthe London population, and of the results of various methods adopted to\ncheck the progress of crime, I am convinced that what is called police\nsurveillance, as it is conducted in this country, is altogether\nmischievous in relation to any probable reformation of the offender.\nEven if it be denied (as it has been) that it is a practice of\npolice-constables to give to persons employing a discharged prisoner,\ninformation conveyed in such a way as to lead to the loss of employment\nand despair of obtaining an honest living, it is quite certain that the\nconstant dread of being branded as a returned felon, and the hopeless\ndogged temper which such a condition produces, must be enormous\nobstacles to true reclamation. The man who could really surmount them\nmust, whatever may have been his casual crime, be possessed of a hardy\nand indomitable desire for virtue which should challenge our profound\nrespect.\n\nBut, apart from what may be called legitimate surveillance of convicts\nby the police, it is unfortunately notorious that members of \"the\nforce,\" who occupy positions as detectives, or \"active and intelligent\nofficers,\" employ agents of their own to bring them information, and\nthat these agents, being men of bad character--frequently thieves--are\ninterested for their own safety's sake in providing \"charges,\" or\n\"putting up cases,\" by conveying information of suspected persons. This\nis according to the old evil traditions that have descended to\nconstables from the time of Jonathan Wild, and probably earlier; but it\nis obvious that where such nefarious tools are employed for obtaining\nevidence which will suffice to sustain a charge and convict a prisoner,\nthere is constant danger to those who, having been once sentenced for\ncrime, are not only peculiarly liable to be drawn into fresh offences,\nbut are, from their position, easily made the victims of cunningly-laid\ntraps for their re-arrest, on a suspicion that is readily endorsed,\nbecause of their previous conviction and the knowledge of all their\nantecedents.\n\nIt is the removal of discharged prisoners from this probability, and\nfrom the kind of interposition that forbids their return to the paths of\nhonesty, and so actually produces \"a criminal class,\" that is, in my\nopinion, the best distinction of a Society like this.\n\nSome of the volumes of interesting records which are preserved here\nwould probably doubtless confirm this view. Let us refer to one only,\nwhere a nobleman residing in London had engaged a butler who went to him\nwith a very excellent character, and in whom he had the greatest\nconfidence. Happening to have occasion to employ a detective constable\non some business, his lordship was dismayed at receiving from that\nastute officer the intelligence that his trusted servant had once been\nsentenced to five years' penal servitude for some dishonest act, but had\nbeen liberated on a ticket-of-leave. Puzzled how to proceed, the\nnobleman had the good sense to apply for advice to this Society, where\nit was discovered that the representation of the detective was true\nenough, and that the man had been recommended to a situation by the\nSociety itself, an intimation of his antecedents being given to the\nemployer. In that situation he had remained for several months, without\nthe least fault being brought against him, and he then applied for and\nobtained the vacant and more lucrative appointment in the family of his\nlordship, who, though he acknowledged he should not have engaged him had\nhe known of his previous fault and its punishment, kept his secret, and\nretained him in his service, where he remained at the time of the last\nreport, respected by the household, and faithfully fulfilling his\nduties.\n\nProbably this was one of those cases where, yielding to sudden\ntemptation, a man incurs for a single crime punishment that awakens\nmoral resolution; and it must be remembered that there are many convicts\nwho, while in prison they are practically undistinguished from the\nhabitual or the repeated criminal, or from the convict of brutalised,\nundeveloped, or feeble moral nature, are in danger of being utterly\nruined because of a single and perhaps altogether unpremeditated\noffence, of which they may bitterly repent. The feeling of shame, of\nhumiliation, of doubt as to any but a cold and deterrent reception by\nformer friends, the dread of scorn, derision, or abhorrence, may lead\nsuch men or women to abandon as hopeless any expectation of resuming\ntheir former avocations, or even of once more attaining a respectable\nposition. To such as these the Society offers such aid as may keep them\nfrom the despondency that destroys; and in every case, even in that of\nthe wretch who has been convicted again and again, it holds out some\nhope of reformation. That there is some such hope may be learned from\nthe fact, that even thieves--\"habitual criminals\"--do not, as a rule,\nbring their own children up to dishonesty, and are often careful to\nconceal from them the means by which they live. The ranks of crime are\nnot so largely augmented from the children of dishonest parents (though,\nof course, evil example bears its dreadful results) as from the\nneglected children of our great towns.\n\nBut let us see what are the means adopted by the Society for helping\ndischarged prisoners. Of course the procedure must begin with the\nprisoners themselves, in so far that they must express their willingness\nto accept the aid offered to them, and make known their decision to the\ngovernor of the prison where they are confined, and where the rules and\nprovisions of the Society are displayed and explained.\n\nThis refers to the convict prisons, since only these are eligible, the\nprisoners from county gaols being assisted by other organisations;\ntherefore, discharged convicts from Millbank, Pentonville, Portland,\nPortsmouth, Chatham, Parkhurst, Dartmoor, Woking, and Brixton, are able\nto seek help; and it is gratifying to know that, according to the prison\nreturns, of 1,579 male prisoners discharged from these places in one\nyear, 796 sought aid from this and local provincial societies having the\nsame object, the number of applicants to the London Society being 524,\nor nearly two-thirds of the whole.\n\nOn any convict, male or female, accepting the offer of the Society, and\nmaking that decision known to the governor of the prison, the latter\nforwards to this office at Charing Cross a printed document, or\nrecommendation, stating full particulars of the prisoner's age, date of\nconviction, number of previous convictions (if any), degree of\neducation, religion, former trade or employment, ability to perform\nlabour, and general character while in prison, together with the amount\nof good-conduct money which is to be allowed for work performed during\nthe period of incarceration. This good-conduct money may amount to a\nmaximum sum of \u00a33, and the Society takes charge of it for the benefit of\nthe prisoner, disbursing it only as it may be required, and\nsupplementing it, when necessary, by a further grant of money, or even\nby advances or loans as may be deemed desirable in certain cases.\n\nThese reports from the prison governor reach the office about six weeks\nbefore the discharge of the convicts named in them, and following them\ncome other papers, each of which contains a graphic personal description\nof the prisoner referred to, and a fairly-executed photograph, which is\nusually not without certain striking characteristics, though you will be\nsurprised to find how often you fail to discover the lineaments which\nyou have associated in fancy with lawlessness and crime. At the time of\ntheir discharge, the men and women are conducted hither by a\nplainly-clothed messenger from the prison, appointed for the purpose,\nand take their places in yonder back room, where they are immediately\nidentified by means of the descriptions and photographs, and are then\nquestioned as to their capabilities and the particular employment in\nwhich they desire to engage. It is manifestly impossible that the\nSociety can provide them with employment in the particular trades which\nthey may previously have followed, since there may be no openings in\nthose industries, or they may be such as would be obviously unsuitable\nfor persons who are still on probation.\n\nShould the prisoner have friends or relatives able and willing to\nreceive or assist him, they are communicated with, but should he be\nentirely dependent on personal exertion, the agent or secretary at once\nprocures for him a decent outfit of clothes, and a lodging as far as\npossible from the scene of his former companions. A small sum of money\nis advanced for immediate subsistence, and he usually has employment\nprovided for him, either in a situation, at manual labour, or by being\nset up in a small way at shoemaking, tailoring, or carpentering, either\nas journeyman, or, where possible, on his own account.\n\nFrom six to twenty prisoners at a time are discharged from one or other\nof the convict establishments and brought to the Society's offices, and\nof the younger men a considerable proportion are assisted to go to sea,\nothers--but, alas! too few--to emigrate, while a number obtain work as\nbuilders and contractors' labourers; and others again resume former\noccupations, as potmen, waiters, or employ\u00e9s in various situations,\nwhere the masters are always (if they take them on the recommendation of\nthe Society) fully apprised of their position. A good many are set up\nagain as costermongers, and in that case the agent of the Society\nquietly accompanies them to market, and advances the money for their\nfirst purchases; others go into the country and obtain work, and not a\nfew of the better-educated or more skilled soon obtain engagements of\nvarious kinds, by personal application, and without reference to the\nSociety, though they continue to report themselves, and to be kept in\nview by the agents, and, being separated from evil companionship, and\nfeeling that they are not altogether friendless, retrieve their position\nand regain an honourable reputation.\n\nOf 514 men and women who were received by the Society during the year,\n180 obtained employment in London and are doing well; 156 were sent to\nplaces beyond the metropolitan district, and were placed under the\nsupervision of the local police; 32 were sent to relatives and friends\nabroad; 57 obtained berths on board ship; 50 had failed to report and\nnotify their change of address as required by Act of Parliament; 23 had\nbeen re-convicted; 6 were not satisfactorily reported on; one had died;\nand 9, who had been recently discharged at the end of the year, were\nwaiting for employment at the time of the Report. To read the Report\nBook, recording the visits of the agents or secretary to men employed in\nvarious avocations, and to their friends or relatives, is very\nencouraging, for it shows that of a large proportion, say seventy per\ncent., there is a good hope of reclamation by their long continuance in\nindustrious efforts to retain their situations and to work honestly in\nvarious callings; while the reports of country cases by clergymen in the\nprovinces is equally satisfactory, especially as they frequently record\nthe return of the former convict to his family and friends, amidst whom\nhe earns an honourable subsistence.\n\nThe female convicts, who are also received at the office, are, if they\ncannot be sent to relatives and friends, mostly taken to a Refuge, which\nhas been established by the Society at Streatham, where they find a home\nuntil situations can be obtained for them; and it is to the credit of\nsome earnest ladies who are willing to engage these discharged prisoners\nas domestic servants that the result is often most favourable. A very\nlarge proportion of the women return to friends, however. Of 53 who left\nthe Refuge at Streatham last year, 30 were received by friends, 18\nobtained situations, 3 returned to Millbank Penitentiary, 1 emigrated,\nand 1 died, 25 remaining at the Refuge at the time of the report.\n\nIn the case of these discharged female prisoners, as well as for the\nsake of those men who would eagerly seize an opportunity of beginning\nlife anew in a new country, it would be most desirable if greater\nfacilities existed for promoting and assisting the emigration of such as\ngave satisfactory evidence of reformation of character. The Society\nfinds its own funds, supported by contributions from the public, barely\nsufficient to maintain, and insufficient largely to extend its useful\nwork. One of the committee, a resident in Canada, has rendered\ninvaluable assistance to emigrants recommended to his notice by the\nSociety. The governor of Dartmoor Prison in his Report, says:--\n\n\"I cannot too strongly again express my conviction that an emigration\nscheme connected with the Aid Societies would be an invaluable aid to\nthe restoration of many casual criminals to a position of respectability\nand honesty. It would be especially appreciated by those (unfortunately\na too numerous class) who had incurred the shorter sentences of penal\nservitude as punishments for breaches of trust of various kinds. These\nmen are often cast off by their respectable friends, and, from the\nshortness of their sentences, are unable to earn the additional\ngratuity. With no lasting means of subsistence, and an overstocked\nmarket for their labour, it is not to be wondered at if such men\nspeedily add a second conviction to their criminal career.\" Let us trust\nthat practical steps will be taken to remove this difficulty.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\nBILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY.\n\n\n\n\n _January, 1876._\n\n AN ALPHABETICAL LIST\n OF\n HENRY S. KING & CO.'S\n PUBLICATIONS.\n\n _65 Cornhill, and 12 Paternoster Row, London, January, 1876._\n\n A LIST OF\n HENRY S. KING & CO.'S\n PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\nABBEY (Henry).\n\n  +BALLADS OF GOOD DEEDS, AND OTHER VERSES.+ Fcap. 8vo. Cloth gilt. 5_s._\n\nADAMS (A. L.), M.A.\n\n  +FIELD AND FOREST RAMBLES OF A NATURALIST IN NEW BRUNSWICK.+ With\n  Notes and Observations on the Natural History of Eastern Canada. 8vo.,\n  cloth. Illustrated. 14_s._\n\nADAMS (F. 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Price 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nAMOS (Professor Sheldon).\n\n  +THE SCIENCE OF LAW.+ Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  Vol. X. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nANDERSON (Rev. Charles), M.A.\n\n  +CHURCH THOUGHT AND CHURCH WORK.+ Edited by. Containing articles by\n  the Revs. J. M. Capes, Professor Cheetham, J. Ll. Davis, Harry Jones,\n  Brooke, Lambert, A. J. Ross, the Editor, and others. Second Edition.\n  Demy 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +WORDS AND WORKS IN A LONDON PARISH.+ Edited by. Second Edition. Demy\n  8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +THE CURATE OF SHYRE.+ Second Edition. 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +NEW READINGS OF OLD PARABLES.+ Demy 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nANDERSON (Colonel R. P.)\n\n  +VICTORIES AND DEFEATS.+ An Attempt to explain the Causes which have\n  led to them. An Officer's Manual. Demy 8vo. 14_s._\n\nANSON (Lieut.-Col. The Hon. 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Noble), M.A.\n\n  +THE ETERNAL LIFE.+ Sermons preached during the last twelve years.\n  Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nBERNARD (Bayle).\n\n  +SAMUEL LOVER, THE LIFE AND UNPUBLISHED WORKS OF.+ In 2 vols. Post\n  8vo. With a Steel Portrait. 21_s._\n\nBETHAM-EDWARDS (Miss M.)\n\n  +KITTY.+ Crown 8vo. With a Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of the volumes of the Cornhill Library of Fiction.\n\n  +MADEMOISELLE JOSEPHINE'S FRIDAYS, AND OTHER STORIES.+ Crown 8vo.\n  7_s._ 6_d._\n\nBISCOE (A. C.)\n\n  +THE EARLS OF MIDDLETON+, Lords of Clermont and of Fettercairn, and\n  the Middleton Family. 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nBLANC (Henry), M.D.\n\n  +CHOLERA: HOW TO AVOID AND TREAT IT.+ Popular and Practical Notes.\n  Crown 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nBLUME (Major William).\n\n  +THE OPERATIONS OF THE GERMAN ARMIES IN FRANCE+, from Sedan to the end\n  of the war of 1870-71. With Map. From the Journals of the\n  Head-quarters Staff. Translated by the late E. M. Jones, Maj. 20th\n  Foot, Prof. of Mil. Hist., Sandhurst. Demy 8vo. 9_s._\n\nBOGUSLAWSKI (Captain A. von).\n\n  +TACTICAL DEDUCTIONS FROM THE WAR OF 1870-71.+ Translated by Colonel\n  Sir Lumley Graham, Bart., late 18th (Royal Irish) Regiment. Third\n  Edition, Revised and Corrected. Demy 8vo. 7_s._\n\n  A volume of Henry S. King and Co.'s Series of Military Works.\n\nBONWICK (James).\n\n  +THE TASMANIAN LILY.+ Cr. 8vo. With Frontispiece. 5_s._\n\n  +MIKE HOWE, THE BUSHRANGER OF VAN DIEMEN'S LAND.+ Crown 8vo. With\n  Frontispiece. 5_s._\n\nBOSWELL (R. B.), M.A., Oxon.\n\n  +METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GREEK AND LATIN POETS+, and other\n  Poems. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nBOTHMER (Countess Von).\n\n  +CRUEL AS THE GRAVE.+ A Novel. 3 vols.\n\nBOWRING (L.), C.S.I., Lord Canning's Private Secretary, and for many\nyears Chief Commissioner of Mysore and Coorg.\n\n  +EASTERN EXPERIENCES.+ Illustrated with Maps and Diagrams. Demy 8vo.\n  16_s._\n\nBRAVE MEN'S FOOTSTEPS. By the Editor of \"Men who have Risen.\" A Book of\nExample and Anecdote for Young People. With Four Illustrations by C.\nDoyle. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nBRIALMONT (Colonel A.)\n\n  +HASTY INTRENCHMENTS.+ Translated by Lieut. Charles A. Empsom, R.A.\n  With nine Plates. Demy 8vo. 6_s._\n\nBRIEFS AND PAPERS. Being Sketches of the Bar and the Press. By Two Idle\nApprentices. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nBROOKE (Rev. Stopford A.), M.A., Chaplain in Ordinary to Her Majesty the\nQueen.\n\n  +THE LATE REV. F. W. ROBERTSON, M.A., LIFE AND LETTERS OF.+ Edited by\n  Stopford Brooke, M.A.\n\n      I. In 2 vols., uniform with the Sermons. Steel Portrait. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n     II. Library Edition. 8vo. Two Steel Portraits. 12_s._\n\n    III. A Popular Edition, in 1 vol. 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +THEOLOGY IN THE ENGLISH POETS.+--COWPER, COLERIDGE, WORDSWORTH, and\n  BURNS. Second Edition. Post 8vo. 9_s._\n\n  +CHRIST IN MODERN LIFE.+ Sermons Preached in St. James's Chapel, York\n  Street, London. Eighth Edition. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +FREEDOM IN THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.+ Six Sermons suggested by the\n  Voysey Judgment. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +SERMONS+ Preached in St. James's Chapel, York Street, London. Eighth\n  Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +SERMONS+ Preached in St. James's Chapel, York Street, London. Second\n  Series. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7_s._\n\n  +FREDERICK DENISON MAURICE+: The Life and Work of. A Memorial Sermon.\n  Crown 8vo. Sewed. 1_s._\n\nBROOKE (W. G.), M.A., Barrister-at-Law.\n\n  +THE PUBLIC WORSHIP REGULATION ACT.+ With a Classified Statement of\n  its Provisions, Notes, and Index. Third Edition, revised and\n  corrected. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n +SIX PRIVY COUNCIL JUDGMENTS--1850-1872.+ Annotated by. Third Edition.\n Crown 8vo. 9_s._\n\nBROWN (Rev. J. Baldwin), B.A.\n\n  +THE HIGHER LIFE.+ Its Reality, Experience, and Destiny. Fourth\n  Edition. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +THE DOCTRINE OF ANNIHILATION IN THE LIGHT OF THE GOSPEL OF LOVE.+\n  Five Discourses. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nBROWN (John Croumbie), LL.D., etc.\n\n  +REBOISEMENT IN FRANCE+; or, Records of the Replanting of the Alps,\n  the Cevennes, and the Pyrenees with Trees, Herbage, and Bush, with a\n  view to arresting and preventing the destructive consequences and\n  effects of Torrents. 1 vol. Demy 8vo. 12_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +THE HYDROLOGY OF SOUTHERN AFRICA.+ Demy 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nBROWNE (Rev. Marmaduke E.)\n\n  +UNTIL THE DAY DAWN.+ Four Advent Lectures delivered in the Episcopal\n  Chapel, Milverton, Warwickshire, on the Sunday evenings during Advent,\n  1870. Crown 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nBRYANT (William Cullen).\n\n  +POEMS.+ Red-line Edition. Handsomely bound. With 24 Illustrations and\n  Portrait of the Author. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  A Cheaper Edition, with Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nBUCHANAN (Robert).\n\n  +POETICAL WORKS.+ Collected Edition, in 3 Vols., price 6_s._ each.\n\n    Vol. I.--\"Ballads and Romances;\" \"Ballads and Poems of Life,\" and a\n    Portrait of the Author.\n\n    Vol. II.--\"Ballads and Poems of Life;\" \"Allegories and Sonnets.\"\n\n    Vol. III.--\"Cruiskeen Sonnets;\" \"Book of Orm;\" \"Political Mystics.\"\n\n  +MASTER-SPIRITS.+ Post 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nBULKELEY (Rev. Henry J.)\n\n  +WALLED IN+, and other Poems. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nBUNN\u00c8TT (F. E.)\n\n  +LEONORA CHRISTINA, MEMOIRS OF+, Daughter of Christian IV. of Denmark;\n  Written during her Imprisonment in the Blue Tower of the Royal Palace\n  at Copenhagen, 1663-1685. Translated by F. E. Bunn\u00e8tt. With an\n  Autotype Portrait of the Princess. Medium 8vo. A New and Cheaper\n  Edition. 5_s._\n\n  +LINKED AT LAST.+ 1 vol. Crown 8vo.\n\n  +UNDER A CLOUD; OR, JOHANNES OLAF.+ By E. D. Wille. Translated by F.\n  E. Bunn\u00e8tt. 3 vols.\n\nBURTON (Mrs. Richard).\n\n  +THE INNER LIFE OF SYRIA, PALESTINE, AND THE HOLY LAND.+ 2 vols. Demy\n  8vo. 24_s._\n\nBUTLER (Josephine E.)\n\n  +JOHN GREY+ (+of Dilston+): +MEMOIRS+. By his Daughter. New and\n  Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n\nCALDERON.\n\n  +CALDERON'S DRAMAS+: The Wonder-Working Magician--Life is a Dream--The\n  Purgatory of St. Patrick. Translated by Denis Florence MacCarthy. Post\n  8vo. 10_s._\n\nCAMDEN (Charles).\n\n  +HOITY TOITY, THE GOOD LITTLE FELLOW.+ With Eleven Illustrations.\n  Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +THE TRAVELLING MENAGERIE.+ With Ten Illustrations by J. Mahoney.\n  Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  The above form part of Henry S. King & Co.'s Three and Sixpenny Series\n  of Children's Books.\n\nCARLISLE (A. D.), B.A., Trin. Coll., Camb.\n\n  +ROUND THE WORLD IN 1870.+ A Volume of Travels, with Maps. New and\n  Cheaper Edition. Demy 8vo. 6_s._\n\nCARNE (Miss E. T.)\n\n  +THE REALM OF TRUTH.+ Crown 8vo. 5_s._ 6_d._\n\nCARPENTER (E.)\n\n  +NARCISSUS AND OTHER POEMS.+ Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nCARPENTER (W. B.), LL.D., M.D., F.R.S., etc.\n\n  +THE PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL PHYSIOLOGY.+ With their Applications to the\n  Training and Discipline of the Mind, and the Study of its Morbid\n  Conditions. 8vo. Illustrated. 12_s._\n\nCARR (Lisle).\n\n  +JUDITH GWYNNE.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo. Second Edition.\n\nCHRISTOPHERSON (The late Rev. Henry), M.A., Assistant Minister at\nTrinity Church, Brighton.\n\n  +SERMONS.+ Crown 8vo. Cloth. 7_s._ 6_d._ With an Introduction by John\n  Rae, LL.D., F.S.A.\n\nCLAYTON (Cecil).\n\n  +EFFIE'S GAME; HOW SHE LOST AND HOW SHE WON.+ A Novel. 2 vols.\n\nCLERK (Mrs. Godfrey), Author of \"The Antipodes and Round the World.\"\n\n  +'ILAM EN NAS.+ Historical Tales and Anecdotes of the Times of the\n  Early Khalifahs. Translated from the Arabic Originals. Illustrated\n  with Historical and Explanatory Notes. Crown 8vo. 7_s._\n\nCLERY (C.), Captain 32nd Light Infantry, Deputy Assistant\nAdjutant-General, late Professor of Tactics Royal Military College,\nSandhurst.\n\n  +MINOR TACTICS.+ Demy 8vo. Second Edition. With 26 Maps and Plans.\n  16_s._\n\nCLODD (Edward), F.R.A.S.\n\n  +THE CHILDHOOD OF THE WORLD+: a Simple Account of Man in Early Times.\n  New Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._\n\n  A Special Edition for Schools. 1_s._\n\n  +THE CHILDHOOD OF RELIGIONS.+ Including a Simple Account of the Birth\n  and Growth of Myths and Legends. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nCOLERIDGE (Sara).\n\n  +PRETTY LESSONS IN VERSE FOR GOOD CHILDREN+, with some Lessons in\n  Latin, in Easy Rhyme. A New Edition. Illustrated. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +PHANTASMION.+ A Fairy Romance. With an Introductory Preface by the\n  Right Hon. Lord Coleridge of Ottery St. Mary. A New Edition.\n  Illustrated. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +MEMOIR AND LETTERS OF SARA COLERIDGE.+ Edited by her Daughter. Third\n  Edition, Revised and Corrected. With Index. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. With\n  Two Portraits. 24_s._\n\n  Cheap Edition. With one Portrait. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nCOLLINS (Mortimer).\n\n  +THE PRINCESS CLARICE.+ A Story of 1871. 2 vols.\n\n  +SQUIRE SILCHESTER'S WHIM.+ By Mortimer Collins, Author of \"Marquis\n  and Merchant,\" etc. 3 vols.\n\n  +MIRANDA.+ A Midsummer Madness. 3 vols.\n\n  +THE INN OF STRANGE MEETINGS, AND OTHER POEMS.+ Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +THE SECRET OF LONG LIFE.+ Dedicated by special permission to Lord St.\n  Leonard's. Fourth Edition. Large crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nCOLLINS (Rev. Richard), M.A.\n\n  +MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE IN THE EAST.+ With special reference to the\n  Syrian Christians of Malabar, and the results of modern Missions. With\n  Four Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nCONWAY (Moncure D.)\n\n  +REPUBLICAN SUPERSTITIONS.+ Illustrated by the Political History of\n  the United States. Including a Correspondence with M. Louis Blanc.\n  Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nCONYERS (Ansley).\n\n  +CHESTERLEIGH.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nCOOKE (M. C.), M.A., LL.D.\n\n  +FUNGI+; their Nature, Influences, Uses, etc. Edited by the Rev. M. J.\n  Berkeley, M.A., F.L.S. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. With Illustrations.\n  5_s._\n\n  Being Vol. XIV. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nCOOKE (Professor Josiah P.), of the Harvard University.\n\n  +THE NEW CHEMISTRY.+ Second Edition. With Thirty-one Illustrations.\n  5_s._\n\n  Vol. IX. of the International Scientific Series.\n\n  +SCIENTIFIC CULTURE.+ Crown 8vo. Cloth. 1_s._\n\nCOOPER (T. T.)\n\n  +THE MISHMEE HILLS+: an Account of a Journey made in an Attempt to\n  Penetrate Thibet from Assam, to open New Routes for Commerce. Second\n  Edition. With Four Illustrations and Map. Demy 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nCORNHILL LIBRARY OF FICTION, The. 3_s._ 6_d._ per Volume.\n\n  +HALF-A-DOZEN DAUGHTERS.+ By J. Masterman.\n\n  +THE HOUSE OF RABY.+ By Mrs. G. Hooper.\n\n  +A FIGHT FOR LIFE.+ By Moy Thomas.\n\n  +ROBIN GRAY.+ By Charles Gibbon.\n\n  +KITTY.+ By Miss M. Betham-Edwards.\n\n  +HIRELL.+ By John Saunders.\n\n  +ONE OF TWO+; or, The Left-Handed Bride. By J. Hain Friswell.\n\n  +READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.+ A Matter-of-Fact Story.\n\n  +GOD'S PROVIDENCE HOUSE.+ By Mrs. G. L. Banks.\n\n  +FOR LACK OF GOLD.+ By Charles Gibbon.\n\n  +ABEL DRAKE'S WIFE.+ By John Saunders.\n\nCORY (Lieutenant-Colonel Arthur).\n\n  +SHADOWS OF COMING EVENTS+; or, The Eastern Menace. Crown 8vo. Cloth.\n  5_s._\n\nCOSMOS. A Poem. Fcap. 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +Subjects.+--Nature in the Past and in the Present--Man in the Past\n  and in the Present--The Future.\n\nCOTTON (Robert Turner).\n\n  +MR. CARINGTON.+ A Tale of Love and Conspiracy. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nCUMMINS (Henry Irwin), M.A.\n\n  +PAROCHIAL CHARITIES OF THE CITY OF LONDON.+ Sewed. 1_s._\n\nCURWEN (Henry).\n\n  +SORROW AND SONG+: Studies of Literary Struggle. Henry\n  M\u00fcrger--Novalis--Alexander Pet\u00f6fi--Honor\u00e9 de Balzac--Edgar Allan\n  Poe--Andr\u00e9 Ch\u00e9nier. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 15_s._\n\n\nDAVIDSON (Samuel), D.D., LL.D.\n\n  +THE NEW TESTAMENT, TRANSLATED FROM THE LATEST GREEK TEXT OF\n  TISCHENDORF.+ Post 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nDAVIES (G. Christopher).\n\n  +MOUNTAIN, MEADOW, AND MERE+: a Series of Outdoor Sketches of Sport,\n  Scenery, Adventures, and Natural History. With Sixteen Illustrations\n  by Bosworth W. Harcourt. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +RAMBLES AND ADVENTURES OF OUR SCHOOL FIELD CLUB.+ Crown 8vo. With 4\n  Illustrations. 5_s._\n\nDAVIES (Rev. J. Llewelyn), M.A.\n\n  +THEOLOGY AND MORALITY.+ Essays on Questions of Belief and Practice.\n  Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nD'ANVERS (N. R.)\n\n  +LITTLE MINNIE'S TROUBLES.+ An Every-day Chronicle. Illustrated by W.\n  H. Hughes. Fcap. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  A Simple Chronicle of a Child's Life.\n\nDE KERKADEC (Vicomtesse Solange).\n\n  +A CHEQUERED LIFE+, being Memoirs of the Vicomtesse de Leoville\n  Meilhan. Edited by. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  Containing many recollections of the First Emperor Napoleon and his\n  Court.\n\nDE L'HOSTE (Colonel E. P).\n\n  +THE DESERT PASTOR, JEAN JAROUSSEAU.+ Translated from the French of\n  Eug\u00e8ne Pelletan. In fcap. 8vo., with a Frontispiece. New Edition.\n  3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Three and Sixpenny Books for the Young.\n\nDE LIEFDE (Jacob).\n\n  +THE GREAT DUTCH ADMIRALS.+ Crown 8vo. With Eleven Illustrations by\n  Townley Green and others. 5_s._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Five Shilling Books for the Young.\n\nDE REDCLIFFE (Viscount Stratford), P.C., K.G., G.C.B.\n\n  +WHY AM I A CHRISTIAN?+ Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._\n\nDE TOCQUEVILLE (Alexis).\n\n  +CORRESPONDENCE AND CONVERSATIONS OF, WITH NASSAU WILLIAM SENIOR.+ 2\n  vols. Post 8vo. 21_s._\n\nDE VERE (Aubrey).\n\n  +ALEXANDER THE GREAT.+ A Dramatic Poem. Small crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +THE INFANT BRIDAL, AND OTHER POEMS.+ A New and Enlarged Edition.\n  Fcap. 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +THE LEGENDS OF ST. PATRICK, AND OTHER POEMS.+ Small crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nDE WILLE (E.)\n\n  +UNDER A CLOUD; OR, JOHANNES OLAF.+ A Novel. Translated by F. E.\n  Bunn\u00e8tt. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nDENNIS (John).\n\n +ENGLISH SONNETS.+ Collected and Arranged. Fcap. 8vo. Elegantly bound.\n 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nDOBSON (Austin).\n\n  +VIGNETTES IN RHYME AND VERS DE SOCI\u00c9T\u00c9.+ Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo.\n  5_s._\n\nDONN\u00c9 (Alphonse), M.D.\n\n  +CHANGE OF AIR AND SCENE.+ A Physician's Hints about Doctors,\n  Patients, Hygiene, and Society; with Notes of Excursions for Health in\n  the Pyrenees, and amongst the Watering-places of France (Inland and\n  Seaward), Switzerland, Corsica, and the Mediterranean. A New Edition.\n  Large post 8vo. 9_s._\n\nDOWDEN (Edward), LL.D.\n\n  +SHAKSPERE+: a Critical Study of his Mind and Art. Post 8vo. 12_s._\n\nDOWNTON (Rev. Henry), M.A.\n\n  +HYMNS AND VERSES.+ Original and Translated. Small crown 8vo. 3_s._\n  6_d._\n\nDRAPER (John William), M.D., LL.D. Professor in the University of New\nYork; Author of \"A Treatise on Human Physiology.\"\n\n  +HISTORY OF THE CONFLICT BETWEEN RELIGION AND SCIENCE.+ Fifth Edition.\n  5_s._\n\n  Vol. XIII. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nDREW (Rev. G. S.), M.A., Vicar of Trinity, Lambeth.\n\n  +SCRIPTURE LANDS IN CONNECTION WITH THEIR HISTORY.+ Second Edition.\n  8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +NAZARETH: ITS LIFE AND LESSONS.+ Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +THE DIVINE KINGDOM ON EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN.+ 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nDREW (Rev. G. S.), M.A.\n\n  +THE SON OF MAN+: His Life and Ministry. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nDREWRY (G. Overend), M.D.\n\n +THE COMMON-SENSE MANAGEMENT OF THE STOMACH.+ Fcap. 8vo. Second\n Edition. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nDURAND (Lady).\n\n  +IMITATIONS FROM THE GERMAN OF SPITTA AND TERSTEGEN.+ Fcap. 8vo. 4_s._\n\nDU VERNOIS (Colonel von Verdy).\n\n  +STUDIES IN LEADING TROOPS.+ An authorized and accurate Translation by\n  Lieutenant H. J. T. Hildyard, 71st Foot. Parts I. and II. Demy 8vo.\n  7_s._\n\n  This is one of Henry S. King and Co.'s Series of Military Works.\n\n\nE. A. V.\n\n  +JOSEPH MAZZINI+: A Memoir. With Two Essays by Mazzini--\"Thoughts on\n  Democracy,\" and \"The Duties of Man.\" Dedicated to the Working Classes\n  by P. H. Taylor, M.P. Crown 8vo. With Two Portraits. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nEDEN (Frederic).\n\n  +THE NILE WITHOUT A DRAGOMAN.+ Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nEDWARDS (Rev. Basil).\n\n  +MINOR CHORDS; OR, SONGS FOR THE SUFFERING+: a Volume of Verse. Fcap.\n  8vo. Cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._; paper, 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nEILOART (Mrs.)\n\n  +LADY MORETOUN'S DAUGHTER.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nENGLISH CLERGYMAN.\n\n  +AN ESSAY ON THE RULE OF FAITH AND CREED OF ATHANASIUS.+ Shall the\n  Rubric preceding the Creed be removed from the Prayer-book? 8vo.\n  Sewed. 1_s._\n\nEROS AGONISTES. Poems. By E. B. D. Fcap. 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nEVANS (Mark).\n\n  +THE STORY OF OUR FATHER'S LOVE+, told to Children; being a New and\n  Enlarged Edition of Theology for Children. Fcap. 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +A BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER AND WORSHIP FOR HOUSEHOLD USE+, compiled\n  exclusively from the Holy Scriptures. Fcap. 8vo. Cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nEYRE (Maj.-Gen. Sir Vincent), C.B., K.C.S.I., etc.\n\n  +LAYS OF A KNIGHT-ERRANT IN MANY LANDS.+ Square crown 8vo. With Six\n  Illustrations. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  Pharaoh Land. | Home Land. | Wonder Land. | Rhine Land.\n\n\nFAITHFULL (Mrs. Francis G.)\n\n  +LOVE ME, OR LOVE ME NOT.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nFARQUHARSON (Martha).\n\n    +I.+ +ELSIE DINSMORE.+ Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n   +II.+ +ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD.+ Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +III.+ +ELSIE'S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS.+ Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  These are volumes of Henry S. King and Co.'s Series of Three and\n  Sixpenny Books for the Young.\n\nFAVRE (Mons. Jules).\n\n  +THE GOVERNMENT OF THE NATIONAL DEFENCE.+ From the 30th June to the\n  31st October, 1870. The Plain Statement of a Member. 1 vol. Demy 8vo.\n  10_s._ 6_d._\n\nFISHER (Alice).\n\n  +HIS QUEEN.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nFORBES (Archibald).\n\n  +SOLDIERING AND SCRIBBLING.+ A Series of Sketches. Crown 8vo. 7_s._\n  6_d._\n\nFOTHERGILL (Jessie).\n\n  +HEALEY.+ A Romance. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nFOWLE (Rev. T. W.), M.A.\n\n  +THE RECONCILIATION OF RELIGION AND SCIENCE.+ Being Essays on\n  Immortality, Inspiration, Miracles, and the Being of Christ. Demy 8vo.\n  10_s._ 6_d._\n\nFRASER (Donald), Accountant to the British-Indian Steam Navigation\nCompany, Limited.\n\n  +EXCHANGE TABLES OF STERLING AND INDIAN RUPEE CURRENCY+, upon a new\n  and extended system, embracing Values from One Farthing to One Hundred\n  Thousand Pounds, and at Rates progressing, in Sixteenths of a Penny,\n  from 1_s._ 9_d._ to 2_s._ 3_d._ per Rupee. Royal 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nFRERE (Sir H. Bartle E.), G.C.B., G.C.S.I., etc.\n\n  +THE THREATENED FAMINE IN BENGAL+; How it may be Met, and the\n  Recurrence of Famines in India Prevented. Being No. 1 of \"Occasional\n  Notes on Indian Affairs.\" Crown 8vo. With 3 Maps. 5_s._\n\nFRISWELL (J. Hain).\n\n  +THE BETTER SELF.+ Essays for Home Life. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  _Contents_:--Beginning at Home--The Girls at Home--The Wife's\n  Mother--Pride in the Family--Discontent and Grumbling--Domestic\n  Economy--On Keeping People Down--Likes and Dislikes--On Falling\n  Out--Peace.\n\n  +ONE OF TWO+; or, The Left-Handed Bride. Crown 8vo. With a\n  Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  Being a Volume of the Cornhill Library of Fiction.\n\n\nGARDNER (John), M.D.\n\n  +LONGEVITY; THE MEANS OF PROLONGING LIFE AFTER MIDDLE AGE.+ Third\n  Edition, revised and enlarged. Small crown 8vo. 4_s._\n\nGARRETT (Edward).\n\n  +BY STILL WATERS.+ A Story for Quiet Hours. Crown 8vo. With Seven\n  Illustrations. 6_s._\n\nGIBBON (Charles).\n\n  +FOR LACK OF GOLD.+ Crown 8vo. With a Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +ROBIN GRAY.+ Crown 8vo. With a Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  The above Volumes form part of the Cornhill Library of Fiction.\n\nGILBERT (Mrs.)\n\n  +MRS. GILBERT, FORMERLY ANN TAYLOR, AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND OTHER MEMORIALS\n  OF.+ Edited by Josiah Gilbert. In 2 vols. Post 8vo. With 2 Steel\n  Portraits and several Wood Engravings. 24_s._\n\nGILL (Rev. W. W.)\n\n  +MYTHS AND SONGS OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC.+ With a Preface by F. Max\n  M\u00fcller, M.A., Professor of Comparative Philology at Oxford. 1 vol.\n  Post 8vo.\n\nGODKIN (James).\n\n  +THE RELIGIOUS HISTORY OF IRELAND+: Primitive, Papal, and Protestant.\n  Including the Evangelical Missions, Catholic Agitations, and Church\n  Progress of the last half Century. 1 vol. 8vo. 12_s._\n\nGODWIN (William).\n\n  +WILLIAM GODWIN: HIS FRIENDS AND CONTEMPORARIES.+ By C. Kegan Paul. 2\n  vols. Demy 8vo. With Portraits.\n\n  +THE GENIUS OF CHRISTIANITY UNVEILED.+ Being Essays never before\n  published. Edited, with a Preface, by C. Kegan Paul. 1 vol. Crown 8vo.\n  7_s._ 6_d._\n\nGOETZE (Capt. A. von), Captain of the Prussian Corps of Engineers\nattached to the Engineer Committee, and Instructor at the Military\nAcademy.\n\n  +OPERATIONS OF THE GERMAN ENGINEERS DURING THE WAR OF 1870-1871.+\n  Published by Authority, and in accordance with Official Documents.\n  Translated from the German by Colonel G. Graham, V.C., C.B., R.E. Demy\n  8vo. Cloth. With 6 large Maps. 21_s._\n\nGOODMAN (Walter).\n\n  +CUBA, THE PEARL OF THE ANTILLES.+ Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nGOSSE (Edmund W.)\n\n  +ON VIOL AND FLUTE.+ With Title-page specially designed by William B.\n  Scott. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nGRANVILLE (A. B.), M.D., F.R.S., etc.\n\n  +AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A. B. GRANVILLE, F.R.S., etc.+ Edited, with a brief\n  account of the concluding years of his life, by his youngest Daughter,\n  Paulina B. Granville. 2 vols. Demy 8vo. With a Portrait. 32_s._\n\nGRAY (Mrs. Russell).\n\n  +LISETTE'S VENTURE.+ A Novel. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 21_s._\n\nGREEN (T. Bowden).\n\n  +FRAGMENTS OF THOUGHT.+ Dedicated by permission to the Poet Laureate.\n  Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nGREENWOOD (James), \"The Amateur Casual.\"\n\n  +IN STRANGE COMPANY+; or, The Note Book of a Roving Correspondent.\n  Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nGREY (John), of Dilston.\n\n  +JOHN GREY (of Dilston): MEMOIRS.+ By Josephine E. Butler. New and\n  Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nGRIFFITH (Rev. T.), A.M., Prebendary of St. Paul's.\n\n  +STUDIES OF THE DIVINE MASTER.+ Demy 8vo. 12_s._\n\nGRIFFITHS (Captain Arthur).\n\n  +THE QUEEN'S SHILLING.+ A Novel. 2 vols. 21_s._\n\n  +MEMORIALS OF MILLBANK, AND CHAPTERS IN PRISON HISTORY.+ 2 vols. Post\n  8vo. 21_s._ With Illustrations.\n\nGRUNER (M. L.)\n\n  +STUDIES OF BLAST FURNACE PHENOMENA.+ Translated by L. D. B. Gordon,\n  F.R.S.E., F.G.S. Demy 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nGURNEY (Rev. Archer Thompson).\n\n  +WORDS OF FAITH AND CHEER.+ A Mission of Instruction and Suggestion. 1\n  vol. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +FIRST PRINCIPLES IN CHURCH AND STATE.+ Demy 8vo. Sewed. 1_s._ 6_d._\n\n\nHAECKEL (Professor Ernst), of the University of Jena.\n\n  +THE HISTORY OF CREATION.+ A Popular Account of the Development of the\n  Earth and its Inhabitants, according to the Theories of Kant, Laplace,\n  Lamarck, and Darwin. The Translation revised by Professor E. Ray\n  Lankester, M.A., F.R.S. With Coloured Plates and Genealogical Trees of\n  the various groups of both plants and animals. 2 vols. Post 8vo.\n  32_s._\n\n  +THE HISTORY OF THE EVOLUTION OF MAN.+ Translated by E. A. Van Rhyn\n  and L. Elsberg, M.D. (University of New York), with Notes and\n  Additions sanctioned by the Author. Post 8vo.\n\nHARCOURT (Capt. A. F. P.)\n\n  +THE SHAKESPEARE ARGOSY+: Containing much of the wealth of\n  Shakespeare's Wisdom and Wit, alphabetically arranged and classified.\n  Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nHAWEIS (Rev. H. R.), M.A.\n\n  +SPEECH IN SEASON.+ Third Edition. 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Von).\n\n  +THE RUSSIANS IN CENTRAL ASIA.+ A Critical Examination, down to the\n  present time, of the Geography and History of Central Asia. Translated\n  by Lieut.-Col. Theodore Wirgman, LL.B. In 1 vol. Large post 8vo. With\n  Map. 12_s._\n\nHELVIG (Captain Hugo).\n\n  +THE OPERATIONS OE THE BAVARIAN ARMY CORPS.+ Translated by Captain G.\n  S. Schwabe. With Five large Maps. In 2 vols. Demy 8vo. 24_s._\n\n  This is one of Henry S. King and Co.'s Series of Military Books.\n\nHINTON (James), late Aural Surgeon to Guy's Hospital.\n\n  +THE PLACE OF THE PHYSICIAN.+ Being the Introductory Lecture at Guy's\n  Hospital, 1873-74; to which is added ESSAYS ON THE LAW OF HUMAN LIFE,\n  AND ON THE RELATION BETWEEN ORGANIC AND INORGANIC WORLDS. Second\n  Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +PHYSIOLOGY FOR PRACTICAL USE.+ By various writers. Second Edition.\n  With 50 Illustrations. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 12_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +AN ATLAS OF DISEASES OF THE MEMBRANA TYMPANI.+ With Descriptive Text.\n  Post 8vo. \u00a36 6_s._\n\n  +THE QUESTIONS OF AURAL SURGERY.+ Post 8vo. With Illustrations. 2\n  vols. 12_s._ 6_d._\n\nHOCKLEY (W. B.)\n\n  +TALES OF THE ZENANA+; or, A Nuwab's Leisure Hours. By the Author of\n  \"Pandurang Hari.\" With a Preface by Lord Stanley of Alderley. 2 vols.\n  Crown 8vo. 21_s._\n\n  +PANDURANG HARI+; or, Memoirs of a Hindoo. A Tale of Mahratta Life\n  sixty years ago. With a Preface by Sir H. Bartle E. Frere, G.C.S.I.,\n  etc. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 21_s._\n\nHOFFBAUER (Captain).\n\n  +THE GERMAN ARTILLERY IN THE BATTLES NEAR METZ.+ Based on the official\n  reports of the German Artillery. Translated by Capt. E. O. Hollist.\n  Demy 8vo. With Map and Plans. 21_s._\n\n  This is one of the volumes in Henry S. King and Co.'s Military Series.\n\nHOLROYD (Major W. R. M.), Bengal Staff Corps, Director of Public\nInstruction, Punjab.\n\n  +TAS-HIL UL KALAM+; or, Hindustani made Easy. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nHOPE (Lieut. James).\n\n  +IN QUEST OF COOLIES.+ With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nHOOPER (Mrs. G.)\n\n  +THE HOUSE OF RABY.+ With a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of the volumes of the Cornhill Library of Fiction.\n\nHOOPER (Mary).\n\n  +LITTLE DINNERS: HOW TO SERVE THEM WITH ELEGANCE AND ECONOMY.+ Ninth\n  Edition. 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +COOKERY FOR INVALIDS.+ Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nHOPKINS (Manley).\n\n  +THE PORT OF REFUGE+; or, Counsel and Aid to Shipmasters in\n  Difficulty, Doubt, or Distress. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nHOWARD (Mary M.), Author of \"Brampton Rectory.\"\n\n  +BEATRICE AYLMER, AND OTHER TALES.+ Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nHOWARD (Rev. G. B.)\n\n  +AN OLD LEGEND OF ST. PAUL'S.+ Fcap. 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nHOWE (Cupples), Master Mariner.\n\n  +THE DESERTED SHIP.+ A real story of the Atlantic. Illustrated by\n  Townley Green. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Three and Sixpenny Books for the Young.\n\nHOWELL (James).\n\n  +A TALE OF THE SEA, SONNETS, AND OTHER POEMS.+ Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nHUGHES (Allison).\n\n  +PENELOPE, AND OTHER POEMS.+ Fcap. 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nHULL (Edmund C. P.)\n\n  +THE EUROPEAN IN INDIA.+ A Handbook of Practical Information for those\n  proceeding to, or residing in, the East Indies, relating to Outfits,\n  Routes, Time for Departure, Indian Climate, etc. With a MEDICAL GUIDE\n  FOR ANGLO-INDIANS. By R. R. S. Mair, M.D., F.R.C.S.E., late Deputy\n  Coroner of Madras. Second Edition, Revised and Corrected. In 1 vol.\n  Post 8vo. 6_s._\n\nHUMPHREY (Rev. W.), of the Congregation of the Oblates of St. Charles.\n\n  +MR. FITZJAMES STEPHEN AND CARDINAL BELLARMINE.+ Demy 8vo. Sewed.\n  1_s._\n\nHUTTON (James).\n\n  +MISSIONARY LIFE IN THE SOUTHERN SEAS.+ With Illustrations. 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Second Edition. 5_s._\n\n  +XVIII.+ +THE NATURE OF LIGHT+: With a General Account of Physical\n            Optics. By Dr. Eugene Lommel, Professor of Physics in the\n            University of Erlangen. Second Edition. With 188\n            Illustrations and a table of Spectra in Chromolithography.\n            5_s._\n\n    +XIX.+ +ANIMAL PARASITES AND MESSMATES.+ By Monsieur Van Beneden,\n            Professor of the University of Louvain, Correspondent of the\n            Institute of France. With 83 Illustrations. 5_s._\n\n     +XX.+ +THE FIVE SENSES OF MAN.+ By Professor Bernstein, of the\n            University of Halle. Crown 8vo.\n\n    +XXI.+ +ON FERMENTATION.+ By Professor Schutzenberger, Director of\n            the Chemical Laboratory at the Sorbonne. Crown 8vo.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nINTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC SERIES (The).\n\n_Forthcoming Volumes._\n\n  Prof. W. KINGDON CLIFFORD, M.A. The First Principles of the Exact\n  Sciences explained to the Non-mathematical.\n\n  Prof. T. H. HUXLEY, LL.D., F.R.S. Bodily Motion and Consciousness.\n\n  Dr. W. B. CARPENTER, LL.D., F.R.S. The Physical Geography of the Sea.\n\n  Prof. WILLIAM ODLING, F.R.S. The Old Chemistry viewed from the New\n  Standpoint.\n\n  W. LAUDER LINDSAY, M.D., F.R.S.E. Mind in the Lower Animals.\n\n  Sir JOHN LUBBOCK, Bart., F.R.S. On Ants and Bees.\n\n  Prof. W. T. THISELTON DYER, B.A., B.Sc. Form and Habit in Flowering\n  Plants.\n\n  Mr. J. N. LOCKYER, F.R.S. Spectrum Analysis.\n\n  Prof. MICHAEL FOSTER, M.D. Protoplasm and the Cell Theory.\n\n  H. CHARLTON BASTIAN, M.D., F.R.S. The Brain as an Organ of Mind.\n\n  Prof. A. C. RAMSAY, LL.D., F.R.S. Earth Sculpture: Hills, Valleys,\n  Mountains, Plains, Rivers, Lakes; how they were Produced, and how they\n  have been Destroyed.\n\n  Prof. RUDOLPH VIRCHOW (Berlin Univ.) Morbid Physiological Action.\n\n  Prof. CLAUDE BERNARD. History of the Theories of Life.\n\n  Prof. H. SAINTE-CLAIRE DEVILLE. An Introduction to General Chemistry.\n\n  Prof. WURTZ. Atoms and the Atomic Theory.\n\n  Prof. De QUATREFAGES. The Human Race.\n\n  Prof. LACAZE-DUTHIERS. Zoology since Cuvier.\n\n  Prof. BERTHELOT. Chemical Synthesis.\n\n  Prof. J. ROSENTHAL. General Physiology of Muscles and Nerves.\n\n  Prof. JAMES D. DANA, M.A., LL.D. On Cephalization; or, Head-Characters\n  in the Gradation and Progress of Life.\n\n  Prof. S. W. JOHNSON, M.A. On the Nutrition of Plants.\n\n  Prof. AUSTIN FLINT, Jr. M.D. The Nervous System, and its Relation to\n  the Bodily Functions.\n\n  Prof. FERDINAND COHN (Breslau Univ.) Thallophytes (Alg\u00e6, Lichens,\n  Fungi).\n\n  Prof. HERMANN (University of Zurich). Respiration.\n\n  Prof. LEUCKART (University of Leipsic). Outlines of Animal\n  Organization.\n\n  Prof. LIEBREICH (University of Berlin). Outlines of Toxicology.\n\n  Prof. KUNDT (University of Strasburg). On Sound.\n\n  Prof. REES (University of Erlangen). On Parasitic Plants.\n\n  Prof. STEINTHAL (University of Berlin). Outlines of the Science of\n  Language.\n\n  P. BERT (Professor of Physiology, Paris). Forms of Life and other\n  Cosmical Conditions.\n\n  E. ALGLAVE (Professor of Constitutional and Administrative Law at\n  Douai, and of Political Economy at Lille). The Primitive Elements of\n  Political Constitutions.\n\n  P. LORAIN (Professor of Medicine, Paris). Modern Epidemics.\n\n  Mons. FREIDEL. The Functions of Organic Chemistry.\n\n  Mons. DEBRAY. Precious Metals.\n\n  Prof. CORFIELD, M.A., M.D. (Oxon.) Air in its relation to Health.\n\n  Prof. A. GIARD. General Embryology.\n\n\nIGNOTUS.\n\n  +CULMSHIRE FOLK.+ A Novel. New and Cheaper Edition. In 1 vol. Crown\n  8vo. 6_s._\n\nINGELOW (Jean).\n\n  +THE LITTLE WONDER-HORN.+ A Second Series of \"Stories Told to a\n  Child.\" With Fifteen Illustrations. Square 24mo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +OFF THE SKELLIGS.+ (Her First Romance.) 4 vols. Crown 8vo. 42_s._\n\n\nJACKSON (T. G.)\n\n  +MODERN GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE.+ Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nJACOB (Maj.-Gen. Sir G. Le Grand), K.C.S.I., C.B.\n\n  +WESTERN INDIA BEFORE AND DURING THE MUTINIES.+ Pictures drawn from\n  life. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nJENKINS (E.) and RAYMOND (J.), Esqs.\n\n  +A LEGAL HANDBOOK FOR ARCHITECTS, BUILDERS, AND BUILDING OWNERS.+\n  Second Edition Revised. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nJENKINS (Rev. R. C.), M.A., Rector of Lyminge, and Honorary Canon of\nCanterbury.\n\n  +THE PRIVILEGE OF PETER+, Legally and Historically Examined, and the\n  Claims of the Roman Church compared with the Scriptures, the Councils,\n  and the Testimony of the Popes themselves. Fcap. 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nJENKINS (Edward), M.P.\n\n  +GLANCES AT INNER ENGLAND.+ A Lecture delivered in the United States\n  and Canada. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +GINX'S BABY+: His Birth and other Misfortunes. Thirty-fourth Edition.\n  Crown 8vo. 2_s._\n\n  +LUCHMEE AND DILLO.+ A Story of West Indian Life. 2 vols. Demy 8vo.\n  Illustrated.                                             [_Preparing._\n\n  +LITTLE HODGE.+ A Christmas Country Carol. Fourteenth Thousand. With\n  Five Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  A Cheap Edition in paper covers, price 1_s._\n\n  +LORD BANTAM.+ Seventh Edition. Crown 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nJEVONS (Prof. W. Stanley).\n\n  +MONEY AND THE MECHANISM OF EXCHANGE.+ Second Edition. Crown 8vo.\n  5_s._\n\n  Vol. XVII. of the International Scientific Series.\n\n\nKAUFMANN (Rev. M.), B.A.\n\n  +SOCIALISM+: Its Nature, its Dangers, and its Remedies considered.\n  Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nKEATING (Mrs.)\n\n  +HONOR BLAKE+: The Story of a Plain Woman. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 21_s._\n\nKER (David).\n\n  +ON THE ROAD TO KHIVA.+ Illustrated with Photographs of the Country\n  and its Inhabitants, and a copy of the Official Map in use during the\n  Campaign, from the Survey of Captain Leusilin. 1 vol. Post 8vo. 12_s._\n\n  +THE BOY SLAVE IN BOKHARA.+ A Tale of Central Asia. Crown 8vo. With\n  Illustrations. 5_s._\n\n  +THE WILD HORSEMAN OF THE PAMPAS.+ Crown 8vo. Illustrated. 5_s._\n\n  Two of Henry S. King and Co.'s Five Shilling Books for the Young.\n\nKING (Alice).\n\n  +A CLUSTER OF LIVES.+ Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nKING (Mrs. Hamilton).\n\n  +THE DISCIPLES.+ A New Poem. Second Edition, with some Notes. Crown\n  8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +ASPROMONTE, AND OTHER POEMS.+ Second Edition. Cloth. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nKINGSFORD (Rev. F. W.), M.A., Vicar of St. Thomas's, Stamford Hill; late\nChaplain H. E. I. C. (Bengal Presidency).\n\n  +HARTHAM CONFERENCES+; or, Discussions upon some of the Religious\n  Topics of the Day. \"Audi alteram partem.\" Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nKNIGHT (Annette F. C.)\n\n  +POEMS.+ Fcap. 8vo. Cloth. 5_s._\n\n\nLACORDAIRE (Rev. P\u00e8re).\n\n  +LIFE+: Conferences delivered at Toulouse. Crown 8vo. A New and\n  Cheaper Edition. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nLADY OF LIPARI (The).\n\n  A Poem in Three Cantos. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nLAURIE (J. S.), of the Inner Temple, Barrister-at-Law; formerly H.M.\nInspector of Schools, England; Assistant Royal Commissioner, Ireland;\nSpecial Commissioner, African Settlement; Director of Public\nInstruction, Ceylon.\n\n  +EDUCATIONAL COURSE OF SECULAR SCHOOL BOOKS FOR INDIA.+\n\n  _The following Works are now ready_:--\n\n  +THE FIRST HINDUSTANI READER.+ Stiff linen wrapper, 6_d._\n\n  +THE SECOND HINDUSTANI READER.+ Stiff linen wrapper, 6_d._\n\n  +GEOGRAPHY OF INDIA+; with Maps and Historical Appendix, tracing the\n  growth of the British Empire in Hindustan. 128 pp. fcap. 8vo. Cloth.\n  1_s._ 6_d._\n\n  _In the Press_:--\n\n  +ELEMENTARY GEOGRAPHY OF INDIA.+\n\n  +FACTS AND FEATURES OF INDIAN HISTORY+, in a series of alternating\n  Reading Lessons and Memory Exercises.\n\nLAYMANN (Captain), Instructor of Tactics at the Military College,\nNeisse.\n\n  +THE FRONTAL ATTACK OF INFANTRY.+ Translated by Colonel Edward\n  Newdigate. Crown 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nL. D. S.\n\n  +LETTERS FROM CHINA AND JAPAN.+ 1 vol. Crown 8vo., with Illustrated\n  Title-page. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nLEANDER (Richard).\n\n  +FANTASTIC STORIES.+ Translated from the German by Paulina B.\n  Granville. With Eight full-page Illustrations by M. E. Fraser-Tytler.\n  Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Five Shilling Books for the Young.\n\nLEATHES (Rev. Stanley), M.A.\n\n  +THE GOSPEL ITS OWN WITNESS.+ Being the Hulsean Lectures for 1873. 1\n  vol. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nLEE (Rev. Frederick George), D.C.L.\n\n  +THE OTHER WORLD+; or, Glimpses of the Supernatural. Being Facts,\n  Records, and Traditions, relating to Dreams, Omens, Miraculous\n  Occurrences, Apparitions, Wraiths, Warnings, Second-sight, Necromancy,\n  Witchcraft, etc. 2 vols. A New Edition. Crown 8vo. 15_s._\n\nLEE (Holme).\n\n  +HER TITLE OF HONOUR.+ A Book for Girls. New Edition. Crown 8vo. With\n  a Frontispiece. 5_s._\n\nLENOIR (J.)\n\n  +FAYOUM+; or, Artists in Egypt. A Tour with M. G\u00e9rome and others.\n  Crown 8vo. A New and Cheaper Edition. With 13 Illustrations. 3_s._\n  6_d._\n\nLISTADO (J. T.)\n\n  +CIVIL SERVICE.+ A Novel. 2 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nLORIMER (Peter), D.D.\n\n  +JOHN KNOX AND THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND+: His work in her Pulpit and his\n  influence upon her Liturgy, Articles, and Parties. Demy 8vo. 12_s._\n\nLOVER (Samuel), R.H.A.\n\n  +THE LIFE OF SAMUEL LOVER, R.H.A.+; Artistic, Literary, and Musical.\n  With Selections from his Unpublished Papers and Correspondence. By\n  Bayle Bernard. 2 vols. Post 8vo. With a Portrait. 21_s._\n\nLOWER (Mark Antony), M.A., F.S.A.\n\n  +WAYSIDE NOTES IN SCANDINAVIA.+ Being Notes of Travel in the North of\n  Europe. Crown 8vo. 9_s._\n\nLYONS (R. T.), Surgeon-Major, Bengal Army.\n\n  +A TREATISE ON RELAPSING FEVER.+ Post 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n\nMACAULAY (James), M.A., M.D., Edin.\n\n  +IRELAND.+ A Tour of Observation, with Remarks on Irish Public\n  Questions. Crown 8vo. A New and Cheaper Edition. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nMAC CARTHY (Denis Florence).\n\n  +CALDERON'S DRAMAS.+ Translated from the Spanish. Post 8vo. Cloth,\n  gilt edges. 10_s._\n\nMAC DONALD (George).\n\n  +GUTTA-PERCHA WILLIE, THE WORKING GENIUS.+ With Nine Illustrations by\n  Arthur Hughes. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Three and Sixpenny Books for the Young.\n\n  +MALCOLM.+ A Novel. Second Edition. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  +ST. GEORGE AND ST. MICHAEL.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  +MY SISTER ROSALIND.+ By the author of \"Christina North.\" A Novel. 2\n  vols.\n\nMAC KENNA (Stephen J.)\n\n  +PLUCKY FELLOWS.+ A Book for Boys. With Six Illustrations. Second\n  Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Three and Sixpenny Books for the Young.\n\n  +AT SCHOOL WITH AN OLD DRAGOON.+ Crown 8vo. With Six Illustrations.\n  5_s._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Five Shilling Books for the Young.\n\nMACLACHLAN (Archibald Neil Campbell), M.A.\n\n  +WILLIAM AUGUSTUS, DUKE OF CUMBERLAND+: being a Sketch of his Military\n  Life and Character, chiefly as exhibited in the General Orders of his\n  Royal Highness, 1745-1747. Post 8vo. With Illustrations. 15_s._\n\nMAIR (R. S.), M.D., F.R.C.S.E., late Deputy Coroner of Madras.\n\n  +THE MEDICAL GUIDE FOR ANGLO-INDIANS.+ Being a Compendium of Advice to\n  Europeans in India, relating to the Preservation and Regulation of\n  Health. With a Supplement on the Management of Children in India.\n  Crown 8vo. Limp cloth. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nMANNING (His Eminence).\n\n  +ESSAYS ON RELIGION AND LITERATURE.+ By various Writers. Demy 8vo.\n  10_s._ 6_d._\n\n  CONTENTS:--The Philosophy of Christianity--Mystic Elements of\n  Religion--Controversy with the Agnostics--A Reasoning\n  Thought--Darwinism brought to Book--Mr. Mill on Liberty of the\n  Press--Christianity in relation to Society--The Religious Condition of\n  Germany--The Philosophy of Bacon--Catholic Laymen and Scholastic\n  Philosophy.\n\nMAREY (E. J.)\n\n  +ANIMAL MECHANICS.+ A Treatise on Terrestrial and Aerial Locomotion.\n  Second Edition. With 117 Illustrations. 5_s._\n\n  Volume XI. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nMARKEWITCH (B.)\n\n  +THE NEGLECTED QUESTION.+ Translated from the Russian, by the Princess\n  Ourousoff, and dedicated by Express Permission to Her Imperial and\n  Royal Highness Marie Alexandrovna, the Duchess of Edinburgh. 2 vols.\n  Crown 8vo. 14_s._\n\nMARRIOTT (Maj.-Gen. W. F.), C.S.I.\n\n  +A GRAMMAR OF POLITICAL ECONOMY.+ Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nMARSHALL (Hamilton).\n\n  +THE STORY OF SIR EDWARD'S WIFE.+ A Novel. 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 10_s._\n  6_d._\n\nMARZIALS (Theophile).\n\n  +THE GALLERY OF PIGEONS+, and other Poems. Crown 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nMASTERMAN (J.)\n\n  +HALF-A-DOZEN DAUGHTERS.+ Crown 8vo. With a Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of the Cornhill Library of Fiction.\n\nMAUDSLEY (Dr. Henry).\n\n  +RESPONSIBILITY IN MENTAL DISEASE.+ Second Edition. 5_s._\n\n  Vol. VIII. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nMAUGHAN (William Charles).\n\n  +THE ALPS OF ARABIA+; or, Travels through Egypt, Sinai, Arabia, and\n  the Holy Land. Demy 8vo. With Map. A New and Cheaper Edition. 5_s._\n\nMAURICE (C. Edmund).\n\n  +LIVES OF ENGLISH POPULAR LEADERS.+ No. 1.--STEPHEN LANGTON. Crown\n  8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  No. 2.--TYLER, BALL, and OLDCASTLE. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nMEDLEY (Lieut.-Col. J. G.), Royal Engineers.\n\n  +AN AUTUMN TOUR IN THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA.+ Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nMENZIES (Sutherland).\n\n  +MEMOIRS OF DISTINGUISHED WOMEN.+ 2 vols. Post 8vo.\n\nMICKLETHWAITE (J. T.), F.S.A.\n\n  +MODERN PARISH CHURCHES+: Their Plan, Design, and Furniture. Crown\n  8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nMIRUS (Major-General von).\n\n  +CAVALRY FIELD DUTY.+ Translated by Major Frank S. Russell, 14th\n  (King's) Hussars. Crown 8vo. Cloth limp. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  This work is one of Henry S. King and Co.'s Military Series.\n\nMOORE (Rev. Daniel), M.A.\n\n  +CHRIST AND HIS CHURCH.+ A Course of Lent Lectures, delivered in the\n  Parish Church of Holy Trinity, Paddington. By the author of \"The Age\n  and the Gospel: Hulsean Lectures,\" etc. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nMOORE (Rev. Thomas), Vicar of Christ Church, Chesham.\n\n  +SERMONETTES+: on Synonymous Texts, taken from the Bible and Book of\n  Common Prayer, for the Study, Family Reading, and Private Devotion.\n  Small Crown 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nMORELL (J. R.)\n\n  +EUCLID SIMPLIFIED IN METHOD AND LANGUAGE.+ Being a Manual of\n  Geometry. Compiled from the most important French Works, approved by\n  the University of Paris and the Minister of Public Instruction. Fcap.\n  8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nMORICE (Rev. F. D.), M.A., Fellow of Queen's College, Oxford.\n\n  +THE OLYMPIAN AND PYTHIAN ODES OF PINDAR.+ A New Translation in\n  English Verse. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nMORLEY (Susan).\n\n  +AILEEN FERRERS.+ A Novel. 2 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  +THROSTLETHWAITE.+ A Novel. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nMORSE (Edward S.), Ph. D., late Professor of Comparative Anatomy and\nZoology in Bowdoin College.\n\n  +FIRST BOOK OF ZOOLOGY.+ With numerous Illustrations.\n\nMOSTYN (Sydney).\n\n  +PERPLEXITY.+ A Novel. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nMUSGRAVE (Anthony).\n\n  +STUDIES IN POLITICAL ECONOMY.+ 6_s._\n\n\nNAAK\u00c8 (John T.), of the British Museum.\n\n  +SLAVONIC FAIRY TALES.+ From Russian, Servian, Polish, and Bohemian\n  Sources. With Four Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nNEWMAN (John Henry), D.D.\n\n  +CHARACTERISTICS FROM THE WRITINGS OF DR. J. H. NEWMAN.+ Being\n  Selections, Personal, Historical, Philosophical, and Religious, from\n  his various Works. Arranged with the Author's personal approval.\n  Second Edition. Crown 8vo. With Portrait. 6_s._\n\n  \u2042 A Portrait of the Rev. Dr. J. H. Newman, mounted for framing, can be\n  had, price 2_s._ 6_d._\n\nNEWMAN (Mrs.)\n\n  +TOO LATE.+ A Novel. 2 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nNOBLE (James Ashcroft).\n\n  +THE PELICAN PAPERS.+ Reminiscences and Remains of a Dweller in the\n  Wilderness. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nNORMAN PEOPLE (The).\n\n  +THE NORMAN PEOPLE+, and their Existing Descendants in the British\n  Dominions and the United States of America. One handsome volume. 8vo.\n  21_s._\n\nNORRIS (Rev. A.)\n\n  +THE INNER AND OUTER LIFE POEMS.+ Fcap. 8vo. 6_s._\n\nNOTREGE (John), A.M.\n\n  +THE SPIRITUAL FUNCTION OF A PRESBYTER IN THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.+\n  Crown 8vo. Red edges. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n\nORIENTAL SPORTING MAGAZINE (The).\n\n  +THE ORIENTAL SPORTING MAGAZINE.+ A Reprint of the first 5 Volumes, in\n  2 Volumes. Demy 8vo. 28_s._\n\n\nPAGE (H. A.)\n\n  +NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, A MEMOIR OF+, with Stories now first published\n  in this country. Large post 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nPAGE (Capt. S. Flood).\n\n  +DISCIPLINE AND DRILL.+ Four Lectures delivered to the London Scottish\n  Rifle Volunteers. Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. 1_s._\n\nPALGRAVE (W. Gifford).\n\n  +HERMANN AGHA.+ An Eastern Narrative. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. Cloth, extra\n  gilt. 18_s._\n\nPARKER (Joseph), D.D.\n\n  +THE PARACLETE+: An Essay on the Personality and Ministry of the Holy\n  Ghost, with some reference to current discussions. Demy 8vo. 12_s._\n\nPARR (Harriett).\n\n  +ECHOES OF A FAMOUS YEAR.+ Crown 8vo. 8_s._ 6_d._\n\nPAUL (C. Kegan).\n\n  +GOETHE'S FAUST.+ A New Translation in Rime. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +WILLIAM GODWIN: HIS FRIENDS AND CONTEMPORARIES.+ 2 vols. With\n  Portraits. 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Norton), Royal Artillery.\n\n  +EASTERN LEGENDS AND STORIES IN ENGLISH VERSE.+ Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\nPRESBYTER.\n\n  +UNFOLDINGS OF CHRISTIAN HOPE.+ An Essay showing that the Doctrine\n  contained in the Damnatory Clauses of the Creed commonly called\n  Athanasian is unscriptural. Small crown 8vo. Cloth. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nPRICE (Prof. Bonamy).\n\n  +CURRENCY AND BANKING.+ One Vol. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nPROCTOR (Richard A.)\n\n  +OUR PLACE AMONG INFINITIES.+ A Series of Essays contrasting our\n  little abode in space and time with the Infinities around us. To which\n  are added \"Essays on Astrology,\" and \"The Jewish Sabbath.\" Crown 8vo.\n  6_s._\n\n  +THE EXPANSE OF HEAVEN.+ A Series of Essays on the Wonders of the\n  Firmament. With a Frontispiece. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n\nRANKING (B. Montgomerie).\n\n  +STREAMS FROM HIDDEN SOURCES.+ Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nREADY-MONEY MORTIBOY.\n\n  +READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.+ A Matter-of-Fact Story. Crown 8vo. With\n  frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  This is one of the volumes of the Cornhill Library of Fiction.\n\nREANEY (Mrs. G. S.)\n\n  +WAKING AND WORKING; OR, FROM GIRLHOOD TO WOMANHOOD.+ With a\n  Frontispiece. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Five Shilling Books for the Young.\n\n  +SUNBEAM WILLIE, AND OTHER STORIES+, for Home Reading and Cottage\n  Meetings. Small square, uniform with \"Lost Gip,\" etc. 3 Illustrations.\n  1_s._ 6_d._\n\nREGINALD BRAMBLE.\n\n  +REGINALD BRAMBLE.+ A Cynic of the Nineteenth Century. An\n  Autobiography. 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nREID (T. Wemyss).\n\n  +CABINET PORTRAITS.+ Biographical Sketches of Statesmen of the Day. 1\n  vol. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nRHOADES (James).\n\n  +TIMOLEON.+ A Dramatic Poem. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nRIBOT (Professor Th.)\n\n  +CONTEMPORARY ENGLISH PSYCHOLOGY.+ La. post 8vo. 9_s._\n\n  An analysis of the views and opinions of the following metaphysicians,\n  as expressed in their writings:--James Mill, Alexander Bain, John\n  Stuart Mill, George H. Lewes, Herbert Spencer, Samuel Bailey.\n\n  +HEREDITY+: A Psychological Study on its Phenomena, its Laws, its\n  Causes, and its Consequences. 1 vol. Large crown 8vo. 9_s._\n\nROBERTSON (The Late Rev. F. W.), M.A.\n\n  +THE LATE REV. F. W. ROBERTSON, M.A., LIFE AND LETTERS OF.+ Edited by\n  the Rev. Stopford Brooke, M.A., Chaplain in Ordinary to the Queen.\n\n    I. 2 vols., uniform with the Sermons. With Steel Portrait. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n   II. Library Edition, in Demy 8vo. with Two Steel Portraits. 12_s._\n\n  III. A Popular Edition, in 1 vol. 6_s._\n\n  _New and Cheaper Editions_:--\n\n  +SERMONS.+\n\n    Vol.   I. Small crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n    Vol.  II. Small crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n    Vol. III. Small crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n    Vol.  IV. Small crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +EXPOSITORY LECTURES ON ST. PAUL'S EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS.+ Small\n  crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +AN ANALYSIS OF MR. TENNYSON'S \"IN MEMORIAM.\"+ (Dedicated by\n  Permission to the Poet-Laureate.) Fcap. 8vo. 2_s._\n\n  +THE EDUCATION OF THE HUMAN RACE.+ Translated from the German of\n  Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. Fcap. 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\n  _The above Works can also be had bound in half morocco._\n\n  \u2042 A Portrait of the late Rev. F. W. Robertson, mounted for framing,\n  can be had, price 2_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +NOTES ON GENESIS.+ Uniform with the Sermons.\n\n  +LECTURES AND ADDRESSES+, with other literary remains. A New Edition.\n  5_s._\n\nROSS (Mrs. Ellen), (\"Nelsie Brook.\")\n\n  +DADDY'S PET.+ A Sketch from Humble Life. Square crown 8vo. Uniform\n  with \"Lost Gip.\" With Six Illustrations. 1_s._\n\nROXBURGHE LOTHIAN.\n\n  +DANTE AND BEATRICE FROM 1282 TO 1290.+ A Romance. 2 vols. Post 8vo.\n  Cloth. 24_s._\n\nRUSSELL (William Clark).\n\n  +MEMOIRS OF MRS. L\u00c6TITIA BOOTHBY.+ Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nRUSSELL (E. R.)\n\n  +IRVING AS HAMLET.+ Demy 8vo. Second Edition. Sewed. 1_s._\n\n\nSADLER (S. W.), R.N., Author of \"Marshall Vavasour.\"\n\n  +THE AFRICAN CRUISER.+ A Midshipman's Adventures on the West Coast. A\n  Book for Boys. With Three Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown 8vo.\n  3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Three and Sixpenny Books for the Young.\n\nSAMAROW (Gregor).\n\n  +FOR SCEPTRE AND CROWN.+ A Romance of the Present Time. Translated by\n  Fanny Wormald. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 15_s._\n\nSAUNDERS (Katherine).\n\n  +THE HIGH MILLS.+ A Novel. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  +GIDEON'S ROCK+, and other Stories. 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +JOAN MERRYWEATHER+, and other Stories. 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +MARGARET AND ELIZABETH.+ A Story of the Sea. 1 vol. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +TOO LONG UNTOLD+, and other Stories. 2 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  CONTENTS:--Too Long Untold--The Harpers of Men-y-don--Ida's\n  Story--Little Missy--The Shaken Nest.\n\nSAUNDERS (John).\n\n  +HIRELL.+ Crown 8vo. With Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +ABEL DRAKE'S WIFE.+ Crown 8vo. With Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  These works form separate volumes of the Cornhill Library of Fiction.\n\n  +ISRAEL MORT, OVERMAN.+ The Story of the Mine. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nSCHELL (Major von).\n\n  +THE OPERATIONS OF THE FIRST ARMY UNDER GEN. VON GOEBEN.+ Translated\n  by Col. C. H. von Wright. Four Maps. Demy 8vo. 9_s._\n\n  +THE OPERATIONS OF THE FIRST ARMY UNDER GEN. VON STEINMETZ.+\n  Translated by Captain E. O. Hollist. Demy 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\n  These works form separate volumes of Henry S. King and Co.'s Military\n  Series.\n\nSCHERFF (Major W. von).\n\n  +STUDIES IN THE NEW INFANTRY TACTICS.+ Parts I. and II. Translated\n  from the German by Colonel Lumley Graham. Demy 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  This work is one of Henry S. King and Co.'s Military Series.\n\nSCHMIDT (Prof. Oscar), Strasburg University.\n\n  +THE DOCTRINE OF DESCENT AND DARWINISM.+ Second Edition. 26\n  Illustrations. 5_s._\n\n  Being Vol. XII. of the International Scientific Series.\n\n  +HANDBOOK OF COMPARATIVE ANATOMY.+ Crown 8vo.\n\nSCOTT (Patrick).\n\n  +THE DREAM AND THE DEED+, and other Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nSEEKING HIS FORTUNE, and other Stories.\n\n  +SEEKING HIS FORTUNE+, and other Stories. Crown 8vo. With Four\n  Illustrations. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  One of Henry S. King and Co.'s Three and Sixpenny Books for the Young.\n\nSENIOR (Nassau William).\n\n  +ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE.+ Correspondence and Conversations with Nassau\n  W. Senior, from 1833 to 1859. Edited by M. C. M. Simpson. 2 vols.\n  Large post 8vo. 21_s._\n\n  +JOURNALS KEPT IN FRANCE AND ITALY.+ From 1848 to 1852. With a Sketch\n  of the Revolution of 1848. Edited by his Daughter, M. C. M. Simpson. 2\n  vols. Post 8vo. 24_s._\n\nSEVEN AUTUMN LEAVES.\n\n  +SEVEN AUTUMN LEAVES FROM FAIRYLAND.+ Illustrated with 9 Etchings.\n  Square crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nSHADWELL (Major-General), C.B.\n\n  +MOUNTAIN WARFARE.+ Illustrated by the Campaign of 1799 in\n  Switzerland. Being a Translation of the Swiss Narrative compiled from\n  the Works of the Archduke Charles, Jomini, and others. Also of Notes\n  by General H. Dufour on the Campaign of the Valtelline in 1635. With\n  Appendix, Maps, and Introductory Remarks. Demy 8vo. 16_s._\n\nSHELDON (Philip).\n\n  +WOMAN'S A RIDDLE+; or, Baby Warmstrey. A Novel. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nSHERMAN (Gen. W. T.)\n\n  +MEMOIRS OF GEN. W. T. SHERMAN+, Commander of the Federal Forces in\n  the American Civil War. By Himself. 2 vols. Demy 8vo. With Map. 24_s._\n  _Copyright English Edition._\n\nSHELLEY (Lady).\n\n  +SHELLEY MEMORIALS FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES.+ With (now first printed)\n  an Essay on Christianity by Percy Bysshe Shelley. Third Edition. Crown\n  8vo. With Portrait. 5_s._\n\nSHIPLEY (Rev. Orby), M.A.\n\n  +STUDIES IN MODERN PROBLEMS.+ By various Writers. Crown 8vo. 2 vols.\n  5_s._ each.\n\n  CONTENTS.--VOL. I.\n  Sacramental Confession.\n  Abolition of the Thirty-nine Articles. Part I.\n  The Sanctity of Marriage.\n  Creation and Modern Science.\n  Retreats for Persons Living in the World.\n  Catholic and Protestant.\n  The Bishops on Confession in the Church of England.\n\n  CONTENTS.--VOL. II.\n  Some Principles of Christian Ceremonial.\n  A Layman's View of Confession of Sin to a Priest. Parts I. and II.\n  Reservation of the Blessed Sacrament.\n  Missions and Preaching Orders.\n  Abolition of the Thirty-nine Articles. Part II.\n  The First Liturgy of Edward VI. and our own office contrasted\n    and compared.\n\nSMEDLEY (M. B.)\n\n  +BOARDING-OUT AND PAUPER SCHOOLS FOR GIRLS.+ Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nSMITH (Edward), M.D., LL.B., F.R.S.\n\n  +HEALTH AND DISEASE+, as influenced by the Daily, Seasonal, and other\n  Cyclical Changes in the Human System. A New Edition. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +FOODS.+ Third Edition. Profusely Illustrated. 5_s._\n\n  Volume III. of the International Scientific Series.\n\n  +PRACTICAL DIETARY FOR FAMILIES, SCHOOLS, AND THE LABOURING CLASSES.+\n  A New Edition. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +CONSUMPTION IN ITS EARLY AND REMEDIABLE STAGES.+ A New Edition. 7_s._\n  6_d._\n\nSMITH (Hubert).\n\n  +TENT LIFE WITH ENGLISH GIPSIES IN NORWAY.+ With Five full-page\n  Engravings and Thirty-one smaller Illustrations by Whymper and others,\n  and Map of the Country showing Routes. Second Edition. Revised and\n  Corrected. 8vo. 21_s._\n\nSONGS FOR MUSIC.\n\n  +SONGS FOR MUSIC.+ By Four Friends. Square crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  Containing Songs by Reginald A. Gatty, Stephen H. Gatty, Greville J.\n  Chester, and Juliana H. Ewing.\n\nSOME TIME IN IRELAND.\n\n  +SOME TIME IN IRELAND.+ A Recollection. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nSONGS OF TWO WORLDS.\n\n  +SONGS OF TWO WORLDS.+ By a New Writer. First Series. Second Edition.\n  Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +SONGS OF TWO WORLDS.+ By a New Writer. Second Series. Second Edition.\n  Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +SONGS OF TWO WORLDS.+ By a New Writer. Third Series. Second Edition.\n  Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nSPENCER (Herbert).\n\n  +THE STUDY OF SOCIOLOGY.+ Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  Volume V. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nSTEVENSON (Rev. W. Fleming).\n\n  +HYMNS FOR THE CHURCH AND HOME.+ Selected and Edited by the Rev. W.\n  Fleming Stevenson.\n\n  The most complete Hymn Book published.\n\n  The Hymn Book consists of Three Parts:--I. For Public Worship.--II.\n  For Family and Private Worship.--III. For Children.\n\n  \u2042 _Published in various forms and prices, the latter ranging from_ 8_d.\n  to_ 6_s. Lists and full particulars will be furnished on application to\n  the Publishers._\n\nSTEWART (Professor Balfour).\n\n  +ON THE CONSERVATION OF ENERGY.+ Third Edition. With Fourteen\n  Engravings. 5_s._\n\n  Volume VI. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nSTONEHEWER (Agnes).\n\n  +MONACELLA+: A Poem. Fcap. 8vo. Cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nSTRETTON (Hesba). Author of \"Jessica's First Prayer.\"\n\n  +CASSY.+ Twenty-fourth Thousand. With Six Illustrations. Square crown\n  8vo. 1_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +THE KING'S SERVANTS.+ Thirtieth Thousand. With Eight Illustrations.\n  Square crown 8vo. 1_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +LOST GIP.+ Forty-third Thousand. With Six Illustrations. Square crown\n  8vo. 1_s._ 6_d._\n\n  \u2042 _Also a handsomely-bound Edition, with Twelve Illustrations, price_\n  2_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +THE WONDERFUL LIFE.+ Eighth Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +FRIENDS TILL DEATH.+ With Frontispiece. Limp cloth, 6_d._\n\n  +TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES.+ With Frontispiece. Limp cloth, 6_d._\n\n  +HESTER MORLEY'S PROMISE.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  +THE DOCTOR'S DILEMMA.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nSTUBBS (Lieut.-Col. Francis W.), Royal (late Bengal) Artillery.\n\n  +THE REGIMENT OF BENGAL ARTILLERY+: The History of its Organization,\n  Equipment, and War Services. With Maps and Plans. 2 vols. 8vo.\n                                                           [_Preparing._\n\nSULLY (James).\n\n  +SENSATION AND INTUITION.+ Demy 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\n\nTAYLOR (Rev. J. W. Augustus), M.A.\n\n  +POEMS.+ Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nTAYLOR (Sir Henry).\n\n  +EDWIN THE FAIR AND ISAAC COMNENUS.+ 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +A SICILIAN SUMMER AND OTHER POEMS.+ 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nTAYLOR (Colonel Meadows), C.S.I., M.R.I.A.\n\n  +SEETA.+ A Novel. 3 vols.\n\n  +THE CONFESSIONS OF A THUG.+\n\n  +TARA+: a Mahratta Tale.\n\n  +RALPH DARNELL.+\n\n  +TIPPOO SULTAN.+\n\n  +A NOBLE QUEEN.+ 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  New and Cheaper Edition in one vol. crown 8vo. with Frontispiece. Each\n  6_s._\n\nTENNYSON (Alfred).\n\n  +QUEEN MARY.+ A Drama. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nTENNYSON'S (Alfred) Works. Cabinet Edition. Ten Volumes. Each with\nPortrait. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\n  CABINET EDITION. 10 vols. Complete in handsome Ornamental Case. 28_s._\n\nTENNYSON'S (Alfred) Works. Author's Edition. Complete in Five Volumes.\nCloth gilt, 6_s._ each; half-morocco, Roxburgh style, 7_s._ 6_d._ each.\n\n  +EARLY POEMS, and ENGLISH IDYLLS.+--VOL. I.\n\n  +LOCKSLEY HALL, LUCRETIUS, and other Poems.+--VOL. II.\n\n  +THE IDYLLS OF THE KING+ (_Complete_).--VOL. III.[4]\n\n  +THE PRINCESS, and MAUD.+--VOL. IV.\n\n  +ENOCH ARDEN, and IN MEMORIAM.+--VOL. V.\n\n  +TENNYSON'S IDYLLS OF THE KING+, and other Poems. Illustrated by Julia\n  Margaret Cameron. 1 vol. Folio. Half-bound morocco, cloth sides. Six\n  Guineas.\n\n[4] On and after the 1st of January, 1876, the price of this volume will\nbe 7_s._ 6_d._ cloth, and 9_s._ Roxburgh.\n\nTENNYSON'S (Alfred) Works. Original Editions.\n\n  +POEMS.+ Small 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +MAUD+, and other Poems. Small 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +THE PRINCESS.+ Small 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +IDYLLS OF THE KING.+ Small 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +IDYLLS OF THE KING.+ Collected. Small 8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +THE HOLY GRAIL+, and other Poems. Small 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +GARETH AND LYNETTE.+ Small 8vo. 3_s._\n\n  +ENOCH ARDEN+, etc. Small 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +SELECTIONS FROM THE ABOVE WORKS.+ Square 8vo. Cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._\n  Cloth gilt, extra, 4_s._\n\n  +SONGS FROM THE ABOVE WORKS.+ Square 8vo. Cloth extra, 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +IN MEMORIAM.+ Small 8vo. 4_s._\n\n  +LIBRARY EDITION.+ In 6 vols. 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._ each.\n\n  +POCKET VOLUME EDITION.+ 11 vols. In neat case, 31_s._ 6_d._\n\n    Ditto, ditto. Extra cloth gilt, in case, 35_s._\n\n  +POEMS.+ Illustrated Edition. 4to. 25_s._\n\nTHOMAS (Moy).\n\n  +A FIGHT FOR LIFE.+ Crown 8vo. With Frontispiece. 3_s._ 6_d._ This is\n  one of the volumes of the Cornhill Library of Fiction.\n\nTHOMSON (J. T.), F.R.G.S.\n\n  +HAKAYIT ABDULLA.+ The Autobiography of a Malay Munshi, between the\n  years 1808 and 1843. Demy 8vo. 12_s._\n\nTHOMPSON (A. C.)\n\n  +PRELUDES.+ A Volume of Poems. Illustrated by Elizabeth Thompson\n  (Painter of \"The Roll Call\"). 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nTHOMPSON (Rev. A. S.), British Chaplain at St. Petersburg.\n\n  +HOME WORDS FOR WANDERERS.+ A Volume of Sermons. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nTHOUGHTS IN VERSE. Small crown 8vo. 1_s._ 6_d._\n\nTHRING (Rev. Godfrey), B.A.\n\n  +HYMNS AND SACRED LYRICS.+ 1 vol. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nTODD (Herbert), M.A.\n\n  +ARVAN+; or, The Story of the Sword. A Poem. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nTRAHERNE (Mrs. Arthur).\n\n  +THE ROMANTIC ANNALS OF A NAVAL FAMILY.+ Crown 8vo. A New and Cheaper\n  Edition. 5_s._\n\nTRAVERS (Mar.)\n\n  +THE SPINSTERS OF BLATCHINGTON.+ A Novel. 2 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nTREVANDRUM OBSERVATIONS.\n\n  +OBSERVATIONS OF MAGNETIC DECLINATION MADE AT TREVANDRUM AND AGUSTIA\n  MALLEY+ in the Observatories of his Highness the Maharajah of\n  Travancore, G.C.S.I., in the Years 1852 to 1860. Being Trevandrum\n  Magnetical Observations, Volume I. Discussed and Edited by John Allan\n  Brown, F.R.S., late Director of the Observatories. With an Appendix.\n  Imp. 4to. Cloth. \u00a33 3_s._\n\n  \u2042 _The Appendix, containing Reports on the Observatories and on the\n  Public Museum, Public Park, and Gardens at Trevandrum, pp._ xii.-116,\n  _may be had separately._ 21_s._\n\nTURNER (Rev. Charles).\n\n  +SONNETS, LYRICS, AND TRANSLATIONS.+ Crown 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nTYNDALL (J.), LL.D., F.R.S.\n\n  +THE FORMS OF WATER IN CLOUDS AND RIVERS, ICE AND GLACIERS.+ With\n  Twenty-six Illustrations. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  Volume I. of the International Scientific Series.\n\n\nUMBRA OXONIENSIS.\n\n  +RESULTS OF THE EXPOSTULATION OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE W. E.\n  GLADSTONE+, in their Relation to the Unity of Roman Catholicism. Large\n  fcap. 8vo. 5_s._\n\nUPTON (Roger D.), Captain late 9th Royal Lancers.\n\n  +NEWMARKET AND ARABIA.+ An Examination of the Descent of Racers and\n  Coursers. With Pedigrees and Frontispiece. Post 8vo. 9_s._\n\n\nVAMBERY (Prof. Arminius), of the University of Pesth.\n\n  +BOKHARA+: Its History and Conquest. Demy 8vo. 18_s._\n\nVANESSA. By the Author of \"Thomasina,\" etc. A Novel. Second Edition. 2\nvols. Crown 8vo.\n\nVAUGHAN (Rev. C. J.), D.D.\n\n  +WORDS OF HOPE FROM THE PULPIT OF THE TEMPLE CHURCH.+ Third Edition.\n  Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n  +THE SOLIDITY OF TRUE RELIGION+, and other Sermons Preached in London\n  during the Election and Mission Week, February, 1874. Crown 8vo. 3_s._\n  6_d._\n\n  +FORGET THINE OWN PEOPLE.+ An Appeal for Missions. Crown 8vo. 3_s._\n  6_d._\n\n  +THE YOUNG LIFE EQUIPPING ITSELF FOR GOD'S SERVICE.+ Being Four\n  Sermons Preached before the University of Cambridge, in November,\n  1872. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s._ 6_d._\n\nVINCENT (Capt. C. E. H.), late Royal Welsh Fusiliers.\n\n  +ELEMENTARY MILITARY GEOGRAPHY, RECONNOITRING, AND SKETCHING.+\n  Compiled for Non-Commissioned Officers and Soldiers of all Arms.\n  Square crown 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +RUSSIA'S ADVANCE EASTWARD.+ Based on the Official Reports of\n  Lieutenant Hugo Stumm, German Military Attach\u00e9 to the Khivan\n  Expedition. With Map. Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nVIZCAYA; or, Life in the Land of the Carlists.\n\n  +VIZCAYA+; or, Life in the Land of the Carlists at the Outbreak of the\n  Insurrection, with some Account of the Iron Mines and other\n  Characteristics of the Country. With a Map and Eight Illustrations.\n  Crown 8vo. 9_s._\n\nVOGEL (Prof.), Polytechnic Academy of Berlin.\n\n  +THE CHEMICAL EFFECTS OF LIGHT AND PHOTOGRAPHY+, in their application\n  to Art, Science, and Industry. Third Edition. The translation\n  thoroughly revised. With 100 Illustrations, including some beautiful\n  Specimens of Photography. 5_s._\n\n  Volume XV. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nVYNER (Lady Mary).\n\n  +EVERY DAY A PORTION.+ Adapted from the Bible and the Prayer Book, for\n  the Private Devotions of those living in Widowhood. Collected and\n  Edited by Lady Mary Vyner. Square crown 8vo. Elegantly bound. 5_s._\n\n\nWAITING FOR TIDINGS.\n\n  +WAITING FOR TIDINGS.+ By the Author of \"White and Black.\" 3 vols.\n  Crown 8vo.\n\nWARTENSLEBEN (Count Hermann von), Colonel in the Prussian General Staff.\n\n  +THE OPERATIONS OF THE SOUTH ARMY IN JANUARY AND FEBRUARY, 1871.+\n  Compiled from the Official War Documents of the Head-quarters of the\n  Southern Army. Translated by Colonel C. H. von Wright. With Maps. Demy\n  8vo. 6_s._\n\n  +THE OPERATIONS OF THE FIRST ARMY UNDER GEN. VON MANTEUFFEL.+\n  Translated by Colonel C. H. von Wright. Uniform with the above. Demy\n  8vo. 9_s._\n\n  These works form separate volumes of Henry S. King and Co.'s Military\n  Series.\n\nWEDMORE (Frederick).\n\n  +TWO GIRLS.+ 2 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nWELLS (Captain John C.), R.N.\n\n  +SPITZBERGEN--THE GATEWAY TO THE POLYNIA+; or, A Voyage to\n  Spitzbergen. With numerous Illustrations by Whymper and others, and\n  Map. 8vo. 21_s._\n\nWETMORE (W. S.).\n\n  +COMMERCIAL TELEGRAPHIC CODE.+ Post 4to. Boards. 42_s._\n\nWHAT 'TIS TO LOVE. By the Author of \"Flora Adair,\" \"The Value of\nFostertown.\" 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nWHITNEY (William Dwight). Professor of Sanskrit and Comparative\nPhilology in Yale College, New Haven.\n\n  +THE LIFE AND GROWTH OF LANGUAGE.+ Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n  _Copyright Edition._\n\n  Volume XVI. of the International Scientific Series.\n\nWHITTLE (J. Lowry), A.M., Trin. Coll., Dublin.\n\n  +CATHOLICISM AND THE VATICAN.+ With a Narrative of the Old Catholic\n  Congress at Munich. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 4_s._ 6_d._\n\nWILBERFORCE (Henry W.)\n\n  +THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRES.+ Historical Periods. Preceded by a Memoir\n  of the Author by John Henry Newman, D.D., of the Oratory. With\n  Portrait. Post 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\nWILKINSON (T. Lean).\n\n  +SHORT LECTURES ON THE LAND LAWS.+ Delivered before the Working Men's\n  College. Crown 8vo. 2_s._\n\nWILLIAMS (Rev. Rowland), D.D.\n\n  +LIFE AND LETTERS OF ROWLAND WILLIAMS, D.D.+, with Selections from his\n  Note-books. Edited by Mrs. Rowland Williams. With a Photographic\n  Portrait. 2 vols. Large post 8vo. 24_s._\n\nWILLOUGHBY (The Hon. Mrs.)\n\n  +ON THE NORTH WIND--THISTLEDOWN.+ A Volume of Poems. Elegantly bound.\n  Small crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nWILSON (H. Sch\u00fctz).\n\n  +STUDIES AND ROMANCES.+ Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nWINTERBOTHAM (Rev. R.), M.A., B.Sc.\n\n  +SERMONS AND EXPOSITIONS.+ Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nWOOD (C. F.)\n\n  +A YACHTING CRUISE IN THE SOUTH SEAS.+ Demy 8vo. With Six Photographic\n  Illustrations. 7_s._ 6_d._\n\nWRIGHT (Rev. W.), of Stoke Bishop, Bristol.\n\n  +MAN AND ANIMALS+: A Sermon. Crown 8vo. Stitched in wrapper. 1_s._\n\n  +WAITING FOR THE LIGHT, AND OTHER SERMONS.+ Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nWYLD (R. S.), F.R.S.E.\n\n  +THE PHYSICS AND PHILOSOPHY OF THE SENSES+; or, The Mental and the\n  Physical in their Mutual Relation. Illustrated by several Plates. Demy\n  8vo. 16_s._\n\n\nYONGE (C. D.), Regius Professor, Queen's College, Belfast.\n\n  +HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH REVOLUTION OF 1688.+ Crown 8vo. 6_s._\n\nYORKE (Stephen), Author of \"Tales of the North Riding.\"\n\n  +CLEVEDEN.+ A Novel. 2 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\nYOUMANS (Eliza A.)\n\n  +AN ESSAY ON THE CULTURE OF THE OBSERVING POWERS OF CHILDREN+,\n  especially in connection with the Study of Botany. Edited, with Notes\n  and a Supplement, by Joseph Payne, F.C.P., Author of \"Lectures on the\n  Science and Art of Education,\" etc. Crown 8vo. 2_s._ 6_d._\n\n  +FIRST BOOK OF BOTANY.+ Designed to cultivate the Observing Powers of\n  Children. With 300 Engravings. New and Enlarged Edition. Crown 8vo.\n  5_s._\n\nYOUMANS (Edward L.), M.D.\n\n  +A CLASS BOOK OF CHEMISTRY+, on the Basis of the new System. With 200\n  Illustrations.\n\n\nZIMMERN (Helen).\n\n  +STORIES IN PRECIOUS STONES.+ With Six Illustrations. Third Edition.\n  Crown 8vo. 5_s._\n\n\nFORTHCOMING WORKS.\n\n  +SIR THOMAS MUNRO, BART., K.C.B.+, sometime Governor of Madras. A\n  Selection from his Minutes and other Official Writings. Edited by Sir\n  Alexander Arbuthnot, K.C.S.I.\n\n  +ALDYTH.+ A Novel. By the Author of \"Healey.\" 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  +IDA CRAVEN.+ A Novel. By Mrs. M. H. Cadell. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.\n\n  +SCIENTIFIC INTRODUCTION TO GREEK AND LATIN.+ By Ferdinand Baur, Ph.\n  D., Professor at Maulbronne. Translated and adapted by C. Kegan Paul,\n  M.A., and E. B. Stone, M.A., late Fellow of King's College, Cambridge,\n  and Assistant-Master at Eton College.\n\n  +TOO LONG UNTOLD+, and other Stories. By Katherine Saunders. 2 vols.\n  Crown 8vo.\n\n  CONTENTS:--Too Long Untold--The Harpers of Men-y-don--Ida's\n  Story--Little Missy--The Shaken Nest.\n\n\n\n\nADDITIONAL NOTICE\n\n+SCIENTIFIC LONDON.+ By BERNARD H. BECKER. 1 vol. crown 8vo., 5s.\n\nAn Account of the History and present Scope of the following\ninstitutions:--\n\n  The Royal Society.\n  The Royal Institution.\n  The Institution of Civil Engineers.\n  The Royal Geographical Society.\n  The Society of Telegraph Engineers.\n  The British Association.\n  The Birkbeck Institute.\n  The Society of Arts.\n  The Government Department of Science and Art.\n  The Statistical Society.\n  The Chemical Society.\n  The Museum of Practical Geology.\n  The London Institution.\n  The Gresham Lectures.\n\nHENRY S. KING and Co., London.\n\n\n_Caxton Printing Works, Beccles._\n\n\n\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\nApparent typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistent\nhyphenation has been retained.\n\nA notice of an unrelated book from the same publisher has been shifted\nto the end of the work.","title":"\"About My Father's Business\": Work Amidst the Sick, the Sad, and the Sorrowing","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":92735}