Having no stable or convenience for keeping the animal in the rear of the house, he had perforce to allow it to share his only room with him. This was, however, at times rather a source of inconvenience, as any vegetables that remained unsold from one day to the following had also to share the same apartment as Mr. D. and his four-footed friend, and it was found that the latter very often made serious inroads, during the course of the night, upon such vegetables, unless they were placed in safety under their owner's bed.

The occupier of this strange apartment greeted me with a cheerful "Good morning," and exclaimed, "I say, mister,

will yer just take a turn with the rope round that moke's head, and fasten him up to the 'andle of the door; bles't if he hasn't broken adrift during the night, and I found the animal turning my bed up with his nose, looking for 'taters or greens I 'spect, so I was a yelling at him when you come in."

I take the required turn of the halter round the donkey's head, and fasten him securely to the door. I suggest to Mr. D. that as it is nearly 11 o'clock, and the sun is shining brightly outside, the donkey probably thought it was time he saw some sign of breakfast.

Well, well," he responds, in a semi-apologetic manner, "it is late, I know. The fact is, mister, trade's been so uncommon bad of late that I've got regler down in the dumps lately, and I thought last night as 'ow I'd have a bit of a flare up; so I puts the moke into the barrer, and with two of my mates went out, and had a proper spree;' it was rather late when I gets home, and I didn't seem quite able to fasten him up proper, so that's how he broke loose this morning. But I must turn out now, and see what can be done; but I ain't got no money now to buy vegetables with, it all went last night somehow; but I must see if they won't let me have some things on trust."

With this the speaker attempts to arise from his bed, but suddenly complains of a racking pain in the head. I remark that it is probably accounted for by his previous nights dissipation, and suggest a seidlitz powder as a remedy for the headache.

"Seidlitz powder!" Mr. D. responds.

'em; how much do they cost?"

"Never 'eard of

I inform him, and am met with the reply, "Twopence ! why I'd get a pint of beer for that, and that's sure to set me right. I think I'll try that instead."

After this I bid Mr. D. "Good morning," and once more seek the streets. My next visit is to a woman residing over a fried fish shop, the fumes from which permeate all parts of the house. On the first floor resides Mrs. A., who has a severe struggle to support herself and family by washing and ironing. Her husband was a sailor, but the ship in which he recently sailed has not since been heard of nor any one on board, and the assumption on the part of her owners is that she has foundered with all hands. Mrs. A. therefore believes herself to be a widow, but her mind is at present in a cruel state of suspense on the point.

"Good morning, Mrs. A.," I remark upon entering. "How are things progressing now? Any news of your husband?" "No, sir; no news whatever," is the reply. "I am afraid there's not much hope left for me now. Its just four months since he sailed for Dantzic, and his ship has not been heard of or sighted since, and now the owners have given up all hope of her being still afloat."

I express my sympathies on her sad condition, and ask how she proposes to earn a living in the future?

"I don't know, I'm sure, sir," she rejoins. "Recently I've been out to a laundry, but its nearly ruined my health, for I had to work the whole day in a room filled with steam, so that my clothes, by the end of the day, got wet through and through, and when I came out in the cold night air, I

K 2

used to feel a chill run through me, and at last I was laid up with rheumatism-a thing I never had before in my life; so, when I recovered I decided to take in a little washing, and I got on very well for a time, but I had to hang the things up here in this room to dry, and somehow, when I took them down they were so impregnated with the smell of the fried fish downstairs, that the ladies I worked for wouldn't give me any more washing until I could get a proper drying-ground; but as you know, sir, there isn't much spare ground to be had round about here. Now that my work's gone, I don't know what to do. If I go back to my former employment I shall be ill again, and I can't go into new rooms, for I owe my landlord a deal of money here, and if I left without paying him, he would sell me up.'

At this moment a noise of children crying takes Mrs. A. into the adjoining room, from which she presently emerges with two babies, one on either arm, and attempts to pacify them by pouring some liquid down the throat of each.

I inquire to whom these children belong.

"I've got three of my neighbour's children to mind just now," is the reply. "Their mothers have to go out to work, and their other children have to attend school, so they are obliged to put their babies out to nurse. They pay me 6d. a day for each, and out of that I have to find them in milk and food. I don't make much out of it, but the women only earn 1/6 to 2/- a day themselves, so can't afford to pay me more for minding them; but as you can understand, I have all my work cut out to look after them properly. Some women will take half-a-dozen children in of a day to mind, but they can't do it single-handed properly; so the poor children are left to cry, knock themselves about, and get on the best way they can. I've only done this kind of thing for the past week, but I find it impossible to mind more than three children a day,—that is, to do my duty by them."

The babies, however, are growing more noisy and troublesome; so I bid Mrs. A. good morning, and seek safety in flight. Regaining the streets, I run across two stalwart Irish women, chattering together with a rapidity of utterance and richness of brogue that, to the uninitiated, is almost bewildering. They are market-garden women and daughters of the soil, and are attired in heavy working costumes, with men's "lace-ups " on their feet. They are kindly-hearted, goodnatured, rollicking women, with but few cares for the morrow; and they pass along the street, laughing and joking with all they meet, as if their whole life was one of complete sunshine. As a matter of fact, however, their lot is by no means an unclouded one. In the summer, by working from

sunrise to sunset, through all kinds of weather, they can earn Is. per day in the market gardens. But they must labour hard; and no matter whether the elements are favourable or not, they still have to perform their regular quantum of work, or submit to serious reductions in their pay.

A painter's family is the next one visited. Here I had a striking illustration of the peculiar method adopted in some districts of administering the Poor Laws. Like most painters, Mr. H. had been very slack of work during the winter months. The few pounds saved by him during the summer had long since been spent, the home then went, and, as a last resource, the Guardians were applied to. The case was considered by the Board, and deemed worthy of relief; but in return for the few shillings doled out to the applicant for assistance, he was informed that he would be required to attend at the Union and assist in painting and graining the infirmary, as a set-off to the relief his family was receiving. This poor man had perforce to fall in with the Guardians' wishes. If he declined to do so his relief would be stopped, and his family left to starve; so he was compelled to work seven or eight hours a day at the infirmary and paint and grain-work for which, under ordinary circumstances, he would have obtained 10d. an hour, but for which he now received no other recompense than his usual allotment of out-door relief. To add still more to this great injustice, no time was allowed him to seek employment, which, as the spring (the best time in the year for painters) was approaching, he would probably have gained, especially as he was a clever man at his trade. Such a glaring example of Poor Law administration surely deserves chronicling.

Speaking of Poor Law brings to mind another case to which my attention was drawn in the course of my morning's wanderings. It was that of a man, formerly a respectable and prosperous tradesman, who, through misfortune in business and severe domestic affliction, was brought to a great state of poverty. Owing to the distressing circumstances in which the family were placed, the wife's mind, which for some time previously had been getting very weak, entirely gave way, and the husband had no alternative but to try and place her under proper restraint in an asylum; and to attain this end he applied to the Guardians for assistance, being unable, through his reduced circumstances, to provide otherwise for his wife. The Relieving Officer for the district was instructed to call at the house in question, see the poor woman, and, if necessary, make arrangements for her removal.

Mr. P., the Relieving Officer, accordingly called, and upon

entering the house found the husband seated in a room, completely prostrated at the sad condition of his wife and at the breaking up of his home. Mr. P., nothing affected by the melancholy scene, rubbed his hands and chucklingly remarked, "Ah! Ah! you little thought when you were so prosperous in business, and held your head so high, that you would one day have to come down and pauperize yourself to me, and beg me to put your wife away in a lunatic asylum." For a few moments the unfortunate husband was struck dumb by the gross and coarse brutality of this speech; then, collecting himself, he very properly, to my mind, retaliated by throwing the Relieving Officer downstairs, and from thence into the street.

To say that the conduct of the Relieving Officer was unjustifiable and inhuman, is to express in the mildest possible way the feeling of disgust that naturally rises within one at such remarks being possible from one who has it in his power to alleviate or increase the sufferings of the poor to a very great extent. I am afraid, however, that this is but one case that sees light out of many instances of brutality perpetrated upon the poor by these minions of the law. In the majority of cases, the people vilified are usually so poor and so down-trodden that they have little energy or spirit left, and but few opportunities to fight against the insults heaped upon them.

From the Guardians to the Charity Organization Society is but a step, for most of the applicants going to the latter are referred to the former. I have gone a little out of my way to refer to the peculiar administration of the Poor Laws. I will now ask my readers to grant me a little further latitude, while I mention a case coming under my notice, in which the C. O. S. played an unpleasantly prominent part.

A short while ago Mr. S., a mechanic, applied to the C. O. S. for assistance. He was to my own personal knowledge a highly respectable man, but he had been unfortunate, both in regard to health and work, and at last he was compelled to relinquish his employment and go into the hospital. He eventually came out somewhat restored in health, but sadly reduced in circumstances, and he required a little help to tide him over his present difficulties, and to regain part of his home which he had found it necessary to pawn. Moreover, he had a large family of young children, and one was labouring under a severe affliction. From an outside point of view it would have been imagined the case was exactly of that description that the C. O. S. are always desirous of helping; but one, unfortunately for the charitable instincts of the society, they so very seldom meet with.