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 THE STREETS AND LANES 
 
 A CITY. 
 
THE 
 
 STREETS AND LANES 
 
 OF 
 
 A CITY 
 
 BEING THE REMINISCENCES 
 
 OF 
 
 AMY BUTTON 
 
 xi\ e |)rjcf&tt 
 BY THE BISHOP OF SALISBURY. 
 
 3 
 
 f- 
 
 1/ 
 
 Ronton «$Wngorli: 
 MAC MIL LAN AND CO. 
 
 1871. 
 
 [ The Right 0/ Translation and Reproduction is reservtd.\ 
 

 
 K 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 <t> 
 
 LONDON : 
 K. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS, 
 BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I AM requested to add a few words of pre- 
 face to this little volume. I willingly comply 
 with this request, being thereby enabled to 
 testify to the absolute truth of every incident 
 related in it. It records, with necessary changes 
 of name only, a portion of the experience, se- 
 lected out of overflowing materials, of two ladies, 
 during several years of devoted work as district 
 parochial visitors in a large population in the 
 north of England. 
 
 Perhaps I ought to be content with thus 
 assuring the reader that he reads nothing here 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 but the mere unadorned facts, and to leave him 
 to appreciate for himself the liveliness and 
 ability of the narrative, and the cheerful sym- 
 pathy and tenderness that have charmed me, 
 as I think they will not fail to charm him, in 
 every page of this little book. But I cannot 
 refrain from drawing from this simple tale a 
 strong inference as to the great value of the 
 institution (so general in the Church of England, 
 and so remarkably characteristic of it) of lady- 
 visitors of the poor under the direction of the 
 parochial clergy. 
 
 Rejoicing as I do with all my heart at the 
 establishment of more formal methods of uti- 
 lizing the devotion of such Christian women 
 as from the circumstances of their families are 
 able to leave their homes, and give themselves 
 up wholly to Church work in sisterhoods, 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 institutions of deaconesses, training establish- 
 ments for nursing the sick, and the like, I feel 
 that we have in the widely-diffused practice of 
 such parochial visiting in England, a link in 
 the chain that binds various classes together in 
 love and mutual kindness, of inestimable value. 
 The lady who devotes a real portion of her time 
 to such visiting, under the superintendence of 
 the clergyman of the parish, and still retains her 
 place in her family, and in the society of her 
 friends, has, as is amply shown in this narrative, 
 great opportunities of bringing to bear upon 
 the poor the sympathy and assistance of those 
 among whom she lives. Moreover, besides the 
 direct benefits which she imparts to her poorer 
 neighbours, and the family duties which she is 
 still able to discharge at home, her position and 
 work tend to break down the unfortunate dis- 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 tinction between ' religious' and 'secular' life, 
 which, while it does little to make the 'religious' 
 more religious, endangers the abandonment of 
 the ' secular ' to more complete, and as it were 
 authorized, secularity. Thus, as in one aspect 
 the lady-visitor may be said to be a link be- 
 tween rich and poor, in another she helps to 
 blend the 'religious' life with the 'secular,' and 
 in both does service of extreme value to the 
 Church and Nation. 
 
 But I must not indulge myself in pursuing 
 these thoughts. I would rather let them arise 
 naturally, as I think they will hardly fail to arise 
 in the reader's mind, from the perusal of this 
 
 little narrative. 
 
 G. S. 
 
 Palace, Salisbury, 
 Jan. 30, 1 87 1. 
 
THE 
 
 STREETS AND LANES OF A CITY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "Oh thought that writ 
 All that I met, 
 And in the tresorie it set, 
 Of my poore braine. Now shall men see 
 If any virtue in thee bee ! " — Chaucer. 
 
 One street, narrow, ill-paved, ill-lighted, and 
 tumble-down, named Abbot's Street ; at right 
 angles with this street, one lane aptly called 
 Crook Lane, for a crook it was and is to the 
 magistrates and police of Norminster ; — these 
 together constitute Anne's and my district. On 
 these, nine years ago, we gazed as utter strangers, 
 not without a heart-sinking, for a more unpromis- 
 ing, mass of brick and mortar, and lath and 
 
 B 
 
2 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 plaster, it would have been hard to find. Low 
 houses of modern build, much out of repair, alter- 
 nated with half-timbered gables resting each 
 on a couple of worm-eaten oaken pillars, and 
 nodding forward as though from age and de- 
 crepitude. Eight signboards indicated the ex- 
 istence of eight public-houses in Abbot's Street 
 alone. There they flaunted almost side by side, 
 as though the Abbot of Misrule, and none other, 
 had given his name to the locality. A slaughter- 
 house, several small hucksters' shops (at one of 
 which a tall, lean horse was being unharnessed 
 from a coal-cart and led through his owner's 
 kitchen), a veterinary yard, and two pawnbroking 
 establishments, — these were the most salient 
 features in " the district." The children at play 
 in the gutter looked mostly unwashed and 
 unkempt. Some older girls and mothers, whom 
 the sound of a wandering hurdy-gurdy had 
 brought to their doors, looked listless, unfresh, 
 and hollow-eyed. An individual, pointed out 
 to us as a detective in plain clothes, was diving 
 into courts and entries, and emerging again, like 
 a bee from the bells of the foxglove. Morally 
 and physically, the first coup d'ceil of our district 
 was grim and bleak. 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 3 
 
 Bleak in itself, bleaker by contrast. Hereto- 
 fore, we had, like the Shunammite, dwelt among 
 our own people, in our country home where our 
 fathers had dwelt before us. I do not say that 
 the tenantry on the Radnor estate were all 
 model men and women, nor the farms and 
 homesteads round Radnor Hall altogether 
 Arcadian, — far from it : but there comfort and 
 neatness were the rule, not the exception ; the 
 old kindly feeling towards squire and parson 
 and their families was not ashamed to show 
 itself; the sick and aged looked for our visits as a 
 matter of course, and brightened at our coming ; 
 they looked to us to share their griefs and joys, 
 and in return took no small part in ours. Many 
 a prayer from many a cottage hearth had 
 H covered " our Crimean brother's " head in the 
 day of battle ; " many a kindly goo<i wish had 
 followed our sisters when they went forth from 
 Radnor to other homes ; and when the " old 
 squire," full of years and infirmities, and per- 
 fected by patient suffering, had fallen asleep, 
 and the muffled peal from our grey church-tower 
 told that he was laid with his fathers, many 
 had sighed at the sound of that knell as though 
 it had rung for their own kith and kin. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 All this was left behind, and it was not 
 unnatural, I think, that Abbot's Street and 
 Crook Lane should appear to us, by contrast, 
 dull and bare at first sight, or that we should 
 feel, in .school-boy phrase, "left out in the 
 cold." 
 
 However, it was " the district," and that was 
 enough. Mr. Helps, the senior curate in charge 
 of this end of St. Edmund's large, poor, and 
 crowded parish, had assigned it to us, and was 
 at our side, pointing out its limits and the system 
 on which it was to be worked. To buckle to it 
 " right womanfully," and bring plenty of hope- 
 seed with us, to grudge no trouble, and look 
 for no visible result — that was our business. 
 The thistle, duty, must be grasped with both 
 hands, and in due time it might turn into a 
 sceptre. 
 
 I am not going to dwell at any length on the 
 mode of working prescribed to us, which was 
 more practical than showy. Each Monday fore- 
 noon we collected money for the clothing- club, 
 not receiving it in a school-room, as in rural 
 districts is often and successfully done, but 
 gathering it from house to house, and thus 
 establishing an entente cordiale with the inmates. 
 
i.] OF A CITY. 5 
 
 We always introduced ourselves as workers 
 under the clergyman, but were glad and ready 
 to receive the proffered contributions of people 
 of all persuasions, — in fact, to rescue every avail- 
 able farthing from the "Pig and Whistle," and 
 our seven other natural enemies, the public- 
 houses. Every fourth Friday, we, in common 
 with the other " district ladies," made over our 
 gettings (often very considerable ones) to Mr. 
 Helps. If he was absent, Mr. Rayner, his 
 brother-curate — brother in heart, and hope, and 
 aims — took his place. After the financial trans- 
 actions were over, we stated to our clergyman 
 any puzzling case that had arisen under our eye ; 
 and such did arise not unfrequently. Things 
 " not dreamt of in our philosophy " at Radnor 
 rose up like spectres before us here ; children 
 and adults unbaptized, and content to remain so ; 
 couples unmarried ; stolen goods harboured (of 
 which more anon). I believe Anne and I should 
 have given way under this new and strange 
 pressure but for Mr. Helps. He was eminently 
 what the French call secourable, clear-headed, 
 uniting quick perceptions and feelings with 
 depth and calmness, a capital organizer, working 
 hard, and setting and keeping others at work ; 
 
6 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 doing the right thing, and caring not who got 
 the credit ; 
 
 *' Yielding, nothing loth, 
 Body and soul, to live and die 
 In witness of his Lord ; 
 In humble following of his Saviour dear." 
 
 These gatherings ended with a kind of com- 
 mentary from Mr. Helps on one or another 
 of the books of Holy Scripture ; this he pre- 
 pared beforehand with great care and research, 
 bringing his remarks to bear on our sick-visiting 
 and general intercourse with our poor, in a way 
 that was truly useful. Before parting, he scru- 
 tinized any new books or tracts intended for 
 parochial use, and often added a selection of his 
 own to our stock. He advised us not to deluge 
 our poor — especially the men — with books, even 
 sound religious books ; their leisure for reading 
 being so limited, it is wise rather to direct their 
 minds to searching the Scriptures of truth for 
 themselves than to distract them with a multi- 
 plicity of imperfect human writings. The scores 
 of vapid stories, flimsy little novels of a (so- 
 called) good tendency, now printed for cheap 
 distribution amongst the young, found scant 
 favour in his eyes ; but sound practical tracts, 
 
i.] OF A CITY. 7 
 
 with body in them, he liked, and, indeed, we 
 found them both useful and acceptable. " Can 
 you spare us the ' Two Shipwrecks ' another 
 week, miss ? My Jem is quite took up with 
 it ;" or, "You'll excuse the ' Three-fold Robber' 
 getting crumpled in Bill's pocket, miss ; he's a 
 reading of it to the other tailoring lads at his 
 shop in the dinner-hour." Such requests were 
 not unfrequent, nor was it altogether a bad sign 
 that when Mrs. Coppock, the self-complacent 
 widow of an old parish clerk, returned me the 
 " Companion for the Aged," she said, stiffly, 
 " I should hope, Miss Dutton, you didn't mean 
 them remarks about peevishness and covetous- 
 ness to come home to me, for I would have you 
 know I never yet were reckoned peevish, nor 
 covetous neither, by none of my acquaintance." 
 The disclaimer of all intention to be personal 
 which I could honestly give, and the conversation 
 that followed respecting self-examination as to 
 our state before God, were not, I trust, without 
 their use. 
 
 One word as to sick-visiting in the streets and 
 lanes of the city. Its features wear a far sterner 
 aspect here than in rural Radnor. Yet the 
 town possesses some striking advantages over 
 
8 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 the country. Norminster Hospital stands within 
 a stone's throw of the lower end of Abbot's 
 Street, and thither nearly all accidents, surgical 
 cases, or fever cases were moved at once. We 
 petitioned for and obtained leave from the 
 Board to visit our people there daily, if we 
 chose. Other sick poor were visited gratis at 
 their homes by a hospital surgeon. To us, the 
 prompt attention they received, and the absence 
 of that mournful ghost of a country labourer's 
 illness, the doctor's bill, appeared immense 
 boons ; but I doubt whether they were as highly 
 appreciated by the recipients. They mostly 
 claimed them as a matter of course, and it was 
 painful to see how many persons in receipt of 
 large wages, or keeping flourishing shops, would 
 apply for a "recommend" for a sick parent or 
 child, and think it a grievance to be gently 
 reminded of their good position and ability to 
 pay. Thus — 
 
 " Ilka rose maun hae its thorn, 
 And ilka gleam its shadow," 
 
 in this imperfect world. 
 
 Many of the aged or sick paupers were re- 
 moved to the workhouse (whither also we had 
 free leave to follow them), and there ended their 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 9 
 
 days in comparative comfort. For " hard is the 
 lot of the infirm and poor,'' and squalid are their 
 surroundings in a low district like ours. Some 
 had no sheets, some no blankets — perhaps they 
 had been pawned for gin ; some had no bed at 
 all, only a shake-down on the floor. The air 
 they breathed was seldom pure. The utterances 
 that came up from courts and alleys behind 
 their houses were often coarse and quarrelsome. 
 The niceties you find in most country cottages, 
 the clean check curtains, the house-clock, the 
 polished chest of drawers, were unknown here ; 
 and their food lacked the savoury condiments 
 which every cottage garden supplies — the thyme 
 and parsley, the onion and cabbage. The con- 
 trast often saddened us, and brought to mind 
 that fine line of Cowper's — 
 
 " God made the country, but man made the town." 
 
 Well, nine years have passed over our heads 
 since that first anxious survey of our new 
 district. Abbot's Street and Crook Lane have 
 long been household words with us. To the 
 eye of a stranger they look forbidding as ever ; 
 but, to us, each tenement has acquired its own 
 peculiar interest, has made its own nook in our 
 
io THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 hearts. True it is that suffering and want, and 
 vice, and even crime, have come before us in 
 shapes not dreamed of before ; but everywhere 
 we have met with some redeeming trait, some 
 gleam, transient perhaps, of desire to be better, 
 some " touch of nature" that u makes the whole 
 world kin/' and so, though far, far from for- 
 getting our own people and our father's house, 
 though the green and breezy haunts of our 
 youth are by contrast fairer and sweeter than 
 ever, yet we would not willingly forsake this 
 sphere of action for that. The " garner of 
 hearts" is here as well as there ; if the shadows, 
 here in the city, are deeper, the lights are 
 brighter ; if the furnace of temptation is heated 
 seven times hotter here than in a well-ordered 
 country parish, so much the purer is the metal 
 that comes forth unscathed from it. 
 
 Now look at yonder three-storied brick house, 
 only one window in breadth, wedged in between 
 the baker's dwelling and that low-gabled beer- 
 shop. There Abbot's Street begins, so indeed 
 does St. Edmund's parish, as the " S. E. P." let 
 into the wall shows. Can anything look duller 
 than that house ? No porch, no eaves, no light 
 or shade on its surface. Its tiers of windows 
 
I.] OF A CITY. II 
 
 stare at you like dead, glassy eyes without lids 
 or lashes ; the topmost one is partly filled up 
 with paper. That house, nine years ago, was 
 occupied by a couple named Cripps, hard, 
 griping people, who sublet most of the rooms, 
 and eked out the low rents they obtained for 
 them by a system of peculation on their lodgers. 
 I mention this at once, because it has a bearing 
 on the " ower true tale" I am going to tell ; but 
 their guilt did not fully come out till some 
 years later, when Cripps and a son were put in 
 prison for more aggravated theft. The family 
 afterwards disappeared from our parish. Mrs. 
 Cripps was a well-favoured, clean-looking person, 
 with a fresh complexion and clear blue eye — 
 u clear, but, oh, how cold !" She always seemed 
 glad to see me, and showed no annoyance when 
 I turned the deafest possible ear to her many 
 broad hints for gifts or loans of money. Three 
 of her rooms were tenanted by three aged 
 women, or rather by four, if we include in that 
 category a widow of seventy-four, who tended a 
 bed-ridden mother of ninety-three. This good 
 old creature it was my privilege to visit up to 
 the very day of her peaceful Christian death. 
 She, and "the young thing," her daughter, 
 
12 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 occupied a ground-floor room. Overhead lived 
 Peggy, a bustling Welsh woman, with a little 
 " self-sufficiency of her own " which raised her 
 above want. Most impracticable was Peggy; 
 she could not read, and steadily declined being 
 read to ; ignored both church and meeting- 
 house, and never appeared either sick or sorry ; 
 so that one had no handle given one by outward 
 circumstances to get at her inward feelings. 
 What a contrast to the occupant of the opposite 
 chamber, where lay an insane woman waiting to 
 be conveyed to the county asylum ! Mrs. Iliff had 
 been a farmer's wife, and had known affluence ; 
 but widowhood and poverty had come upon her, 
 and sickness with fearful pressure on the brain ; 
 she needed watching day and night, having once 
 attempted to throw herself out of the window, 
 and once to stab herself with a knife cunningly 
 secreted under her pillow. Some kind ladies 
 paid her rent, and a trusty person to look after 
 her ; and as this person needed, of course, some 
 hours' rest daily, we arranged to take our turns 
 by Mrs. Iliff's bedside in her absence. The 
 poor soul never attempted to hurt any one but 
 herself, and a kind look or word generally 
 calmed her at once ; so our task was no hard one. 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 13 
 
 I well remember the soft, sad expression in her 
 eyes as she listened to the old familiar psalm 
 tunes I crooned while plying at my coarse 
 needlework in the darkened room. She never 
 reached the asylum after all ; for while the 
 authorities of " Magnus " and " Edmund " were 
 disputing which should not bear her expenses 
 there, the symptoms changed from violence to 
 torpor, and she gradually sank. 
 
 One day, as I was leaving Mrs. Iliff, I was 
 surprised to see a little old man, with white hair 
 and shoeless feet, creeping up to the attic, 
 tapping with his stick before him, as blind 
 people do. Now, as the Crippses had four 
 children, three of them biggish boys, I had 
 taken it for granted they occupied the two 
 rooms in the garret themselves. Herein I did 
 injustice to Mrs. Cripps, who, like John Gilpin's 
 wife, had a frugal mind, and so contrived to 
 pack in an extra lodger, at the expense both of 
 health and propriety. She accosted me, as my 
 eye w T as following the old man, and said, "It's 
 only Miles, the blind soldier; he's very queer; 
 he keeps to himself, and won't let anybody do 
 a hand's turn for him, though he's as dark as a 
 beetle. You never met him afore ? Not likely, 
 
i 4 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 ma'am, you should ; for he never crosses the 
 doorstep but once a month, when he finds his 
 way to the Castle for his pension ; and last time 
 he went that far, he got under the feet of a 
 dray-horse, and must have been killed if some- 
 body hadn't picked him up ! Has he friends ? 
 Not one : they preaching folks got hold of him 
 at one time, and made a great piece of work 
 with him ; but he broke loose from them, and 
 now nobody goes a-near him. He's very glum ; 
 only he likes my Polly to sit in his room (that's 
 our three-year old) ; and she is desperate fond 
 of the old man, and stops with him all day 
 sometimes." 
 
 This was not an encouraging account; still 
 my heart ached for the forlorn old man, and I 
 thought I might at least give him the option of 
 being visited and read to. So, two days later, 
 I climbed to the attic and tapped at Miles's 
 door, which stood slightly ajar. No answer, but 
 a fidgeting within, and a shuffling of feet, and 
 then the door cautiously opened. A thin, wiry 
 little man stood before me, very erect, with a 
 look of gloom and sour mistrust on every 
 feature ; there was " no speculation " in those 
 sunken eyeballs, as they turned uneasily in my 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 15 
 
 direction. Still not a word, I was taken aback, 
 as we say here, and could barely muster 
 courage to tell him my name, and my business 
 there (which, at the moment, seemed no business 
 at all), and to ask leave to come in. He still 
 did not speak, but led the way to his neglected- 
 looking hearth, where he faced me again, 
 without sitting down, or asking me to do so. 
 I told him briefly how much I felt for his great 
 calamity of blindness ; how glad I should be if 
 I might read to him from time to time ; how much 
 consolation my father, who had been similarly 
 afflicted for years, had received from listening 
 to the Holy Scripture. "I'm obleeged to you, 
 ma'am," he replied, puckering up his thin lips 
 and looking sourer than before, " but it would be 
 of no use." I could not insist after so decided a 
 negative as this, so unwillingly bade him good 
 morning, merely begging he would let me know 
 if ever I could be of use to him. I returned 
 to the door, which I had incautiously shut to, 
 behind me, and lo and behold ! the door pos- 
 sessed no handle, nor any apology for one, and 
 how to let myself out it passed my ingenuity to 
 devise. Feeling somewhat foolish, I stated this 
 delicate dilemma to the old man, and was aston- 
 
1 6 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 ished at the revulsion it produced in his mind. 
 The dormant chivalry in some corner of his 
 heart was roused ; he came to my rescue quite 
 alertly, fumbled at the door, then asked me in 
 a deferential tone to look for a knife that lay in 
 a rubbish-box in a dark corner of his den. He 
 inserted the knife in the hole where the handle 
 should have been, worked it backwards and 
 forwards, and grew quite friendly and communi- 
 cative over the operation. At length, " by dint 
 of coercion and great agitation," the door flew 
 open ; I thanked him, and was retreating, when 
 he detained me to say hurriedly, " You are 
 welcome, ma'am, quite welcome ; and if you 
 will condescend to pay me another visit, I shall 
 feel honoured." I put my hand in his, and 
 received a cordial squeeze in return, and so 
 our friendship began. The surly, defiant look 
 passed from his face, never to return, leaving 
 only an indescribable expression of sadness and 
 hopelessness. 
 
 The main cause of this came out at our next 
 meeting. Miles was of a morbidly anxious, ner- 
 vous temperament, and blindness had brought 
 with it deep dejection and the loss of most of 
 his accustomed occupations. Then he had 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 17 
 
 fallen into the hands of some fanatics, well- 
 meaning, doubtless, but ignorant, and cruel in 
 their ignorance, and they had persuaded him 
 that his blindness was a proof of God's wrath, 
 and that no prayer or effort of his could turn 
 that wrath away, since he was not one of " the 
 elect " ! Poor old man ! with a burst of 
 anguish he told me this, as a settled matter, 
 from which there could be no appeal. He 
 seems, in his despair, to have broken loose from 
 his tormentors, and shut his door against them ; 
 but, like the wounded stag that crawls apart to 
 die, he still carried the barbed arrow in his 
 heart, believing himself " past help, past hope 
 past cure." It needed a firm, experienced hand 
 to draw out (with God's help) that rankling 
 arrow, so I referred the case to Mr. Helps at 
 once. He sought out Miles, and many ear- 
 nest talks they had together, with the happiest 
 result at last. After long years of bodily and 
 mental darkness, during which 
 
 " The cold spirit silently- 
 Pined at the scourge severe," 
 
 the old man had a door of hope opened to him. 
 He was so crushed and broken-hearted, Mr. 
 
 c 
 
13 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 Helps told me, so shrinking and self-accusing, 
 that he could hardly be brought to believe that 
 no decree had gone forth against him ; but 
 when once, by no mere earthly teaching, that 
 frightful delusion was dispelled, and the way to 
 the throne of grace made plain, his childlike 
 joy and gratitude knew no bounds. Like 
 Ready to Halt at the sight of Giant Despairs 
 severed head, he could not choose but dance ; 
 and though he danced with one crutch still, yet, 
 I promise you, he footed it well ! It was my 
 happy office to read the Bible to him almost 
 daily. These readings were the bright spots 
 in his otherwise sad and solitary life. How 
 every feature beamed with delight as he listened, 
 and how fast the time flew! The intervening 
 hours, I fear, still dragged on heavily for him, 
 but when spring days became warm and bright, 
 I prevailed on Miles to array himself in his 
 " Sunday's best," and be led by us to the daily 
 prayers at the minster. A blithe young niece 
 then staying with us was his guide, and her 
 " early voice so sweet," together with the fact of 
 her being a soldier's daughter, quite took his 
 heart by storm. He grew chatty, told anecdotes 
 of his early life, and described scenes he had 
 
 *# 
 
 \ 
 
L] OF A CITY. 
 
 19 
 
 witnessed in India, before the fatal ophthalmia 
 had dimmed and then quenched his sight. He 
 must have been well educated, and naturally 
 observant and shrewd ; he clothed his ideas in 
 such exceedingly picked and refined language 
 as, now and then, provoked a smile. I remem- 
 ber his describing prettily the town of Meliapore, 
 in India, where he had been quartered, and the 
 chapel erected there over the probable site of 
 St. Thomas's martyrdom. There were native 
 Christians, he said, called St. Thomas's Chris- 
 tians, and they had churches not so very unlike 
 ours and church bells that sounded home-like 
 in the valleys ; their clergy wore white robes, 
 and had wives ; their women, unlike the 
 Hindoos, walked freely about the villages and 
 bazaars. 
 
 Miles was exceedingly attached to the 
 memory of his mother, " a very pious woman," 
 and talked with loving regrets of the cottage 
 home in South Wales, where he was born and 
 reared. He had not seen that spot for "nigh 
 upon " sixty years. 
 
 The chanting in our old church, especially of 
 the "Nunc Dimittis," quite overpowered him at 
 first. He shed many tears, and afterwards said 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 that, to his thinking, it was the gate of heaven 
 indeed. 
 
 Still the old man's position was a distressing 
 one. His infirmities were increasing upon him ; 
 and the more helpless he grew, the more was he 
 neglected and cheated by the Crippses. One 
 day, I found him quite broken-hearted over 
 some fresh unkindness, the nature of which he 
 could not bring himself to tell. But old Peggy 
 below stairs was less reticent, and flew out to 
 inform me that she missed five shillings out of 
 the broken teapot on the shelf in which she 
 kept her money, and who but Miles could 
 have taken them ? The Crippses had talked 
 her into this belief for reasons of their own, 
 that were " not far to find," and the obtuse old 
 woman adhered to it, though she had not a 
 shadow of proof to adduce, and though she was 
 fain to confess that Miles had never wronged 
 her of a farthing before. Her story gained 
 no credence anywhere, and was indignantly 
 rebutted by the two or three respectable 
 tradesmen with whom Miles dealt. But the 
 bare imputation of dishonesty was crushing to 
 the sensitive old man. 
 
 Then it was that he owned to me that his 
 
i.] OF A CITY. 21 
 
 dearest wish for years had been to end his days 
 in Chelsea Hospital. Without raising his hopes, 
 I applied to my brother, Colonel Button, and he 
 laid the matter before Sir Edward Blakeney, 
 then Governor of the Hospital ; who, in con- 
 sideration of Miles's blindness, granted him 
 admittance to Chelsea within a month of that 
 time. When I took Sir Edward's letter to 
 Miles's attic and read it to him, he was much 
 overcome, and sank on his knees. First, he 
 solemnly thanked God for granting his desire; 
 then, kissing my hand, he prayed for a blessing 
 on those who had obtained this boon for him. 
 
 There were some official papers to be filled 
 up before Miles could be put on the list of 
 in-pensioners, so, one fine morning, the old man 
 was imported into our drawing-room, seated on 
 a sofa, and plied with the questions those papers 
 contained. Very quaint and entertaining were 
 his replies, especially when the awkward inquiry 
 came as to how many battles he had been en- 
 gaged in ? He certainly could not, like Othello, 
 boast of any " hair-breadth 'scapes in the im- 
 minent deadly breach." " It was humiliating," 
 he said, with a comic air of distress, a to have 
 to confess that he had never come to the scratch 
 
22 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 at all ! A skrimmage or two he had seen in 
 India, but' never an engagement." "But," he 
 added, " that was my misfortune, not my fault ; 
 if I had been brought face to face with the 
 enemy, I trust, ladies, I should have done my 
 duty." The next question, "whether he had 
 been wounded," was easily disposed of. " How 
 could I have been wounded," he asked, " when 
 I had never had the chance given me ?" 
 
 He lived about three years after that, and was 
 very happy and peaceful at the Hospital : we 
 several times visited him there. It was pleasant 
 to find him sitting in winter, on the high-backed 
 settle by a bright fire ; in summer, on a rustic 
 seat under green trees, chatting with his brother 
 pensioners. He looked very picturesque and 
 venerable in the cap and dark blue undress 
 uniform he generally wore, but the full dress, 
 with scarlet coat and cocked hat, was over- 
 powering for one of his small dimensions. 
 
 " He is our model man," the excellent 
 superintendent of the pensioners told me, 
 " irreproachable in every way, and never missing 
 divine worship. He is liable now and then to 
 fits of dejection, caused by his blindness, but a 
 visit from the chaplain, or from one of the ladies 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 23 
 
 who read to him, soon cheers him up." That he 
 might feel his helplessness the least possible, he 
 had a small monthly remittance sent him, with 
 which he paid such, of his comrades as waited 
 upon him. One or other of these veterans 
 used to set down in writing his replies to my 
 letters, often interlarding them with comments 
 or anecdotes of their own, so that you may 
 imagine they were not altogether very satis- 
 factory or lucid epistles. One day, somewhat 
 unexpectedly, we received from the kind super- 
 intendent the tidings of Miles's death, a gentle, 
 peaceful, painless falling asleep in the Ever- 
 lasting Arms. 
 
 The grand old institution under whose shadow 
 his last days were spent, and near which his 
 mortal part rests in hope, seems destined not 
 long to survive him. 
 
 The baker's house, next door, has, like the 
 " needy knife-grinder " of old, " no story to 
 tell." The baker's wife — good-natured, slat- 
 ternly soul — asked me in one early day, and 
 showed a desire to "put in" to our clothing 
 club, which might have resulted in the children's 
 toilettes becoming neater and less tawdry; but 
 the baker himself nipped our friendship in 
 
24 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 the bud, by avouching in my presence that 
 no stranger should meddle with his family 
 arrangements. So, — every man's house being 
 his castle, an axiom which district visitors are, 
 I think, specially bound to respect, — I beat a 
 retreat ; nor has any opening for kindly inter- 
 course since presented itself. 
 
 John Brent lives next door; he has for many 
 
 years been the " right-hand man " of Mr. , 
 
 of Green Street. No man in Norminster is 
 more respected than John. Honest, sober, in- 
 telligent, so much employed and trusted by his 
 master that he is seldom at home, John ought, 
 you would think, to be a prosperous, well-to-do 
 man, but he is not ; and why ? I soon became 
 acquainted with his wife, a pretty, dressy, sickly 
 woman, with several children, one of them a 
 cripple, and all wearing a strangely forlorn look, 
 The house was a superior and well-furnished 
 one, and lodgers of a bettermost class were to 
 be seen there at first, but after a while they 
 dropped off. One missed a silver watch, another 
 his Sunday coat, and not recovering them, they 
 went away in disgust ; altogether the impression 
 I received was that Mrs. Brent's untidiness and 
 dressiness were her bane, and that of her family. 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 25 
 
 I tried anxiously to induce her to save her money 
 and send her children regularly to school, but 
 with no lasting success ; her attempts at doing 
 better were spasmodic and shortlived ; yet it was 
 impossible not to like the little woman, and her 
 exceeding fragility gave her an interest. 
 
 After a while a fresh inmate appeared in the 
 house, Brent's old mother — like himself, the picture 
 of cleanliness, respectability, and honesty. She 
 was all but helpless from paralysis, and her good 
 son would not allow her, as too many " well-to- 
 do" Norminster people allow their parents, to 
 end her days in the poor-house. I fear, poor 
 fellow, his dutiful care for his mother was frus- 
 trated, though by no fault of his. Widow Brent 
 soon took to her bed altogether, and being 
 " no scholard " craved continual visits and read- 
 ings. It was no cheerful atmosphere, that sick 
 room ; she felt herself de trop y neglected by her 
 daughter-in-law, disobeyed and " sauced" by 
 the young ones. I am convinced now that a 
 " coming event," which no one in Norminster sus- 
 pected, "cast its shadow before" on her dying 
 pillow, and darkened the last months of her blame- 
 less life. When the youngest child, a pretty boy 
 of three, died of a neglected cold on his chest, to 
 
26 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 his father's utter sorrow, she looked at me with 
 a strange meaning in her dark, heavy eyes, and 
 said — " Best as it is ; he's ta'en from the evil 
 to come." It struck me forcibly, by the bye, 
 during the poor little fellow's suffering illness, 
 that he clung to his eldest sister, but shrank 
 away from his mother, and refused .to go to her; 
 it seemed strange and unnatural. Things grew 
 worse after he was laid under the sod, and one 
 day the widow whispered to me, " I want to tell 
 you something, Miss Dutton; I must speak." 
 
 Glancing up, however, she saw one of the 
 children perched at the foot of the bed, its 
 round eyes fastened upon her, and, with a 
 frightened look, she checked herself, only add- 
 ing, " Another time: oh, I must speak." This 
 scene made me very uncomfortable, and first 
 drew my attention to the circumstance that I 
 was never left tete-a-tete with her; the moment 
 I entered her tiny room at the top of the stair- 
 case a child was invariably sent after me, and 
 as invariably left the room when I did. It was 
 curious, to say the least, and made one suspect 
 there was a screw loose somewhere. 
 
 I soon revisited the forlorn sufferer, and tried 
 to raise her thoughts to higher and happier 
 
L] OF A CITY. 27 
 
 subjects than the petty annoyances of her fast 
 waning life. But chapter and hymn only 
 obtained a divided attention; and suddenly 
 raising herself on one elbow, she uplifted her 
 voice, and in a tone of unwonted authority 
 ordered the spy grandchild downstairs. No 
 sooner had it vanished than she threw the other 
 arm round my neck to draw me close, and re- 
 peated, " I must speak — I must ! " But alas ! 
 paralysis and agitation so thickened her utter- 
 ance that it was impossible to understand a 
 word, and before I could calm her Mrs. Brent 
 was in the room, regarding us with stony 
 eyes and a hectic spot on either thin cheek. 
 The aged woman sank back almost with a 
 scream. I remained with her some time as a 
 kind of protection, then went home, promising 
 her a speedy return, and promising myself to 
 refer this singular and mysterious matter at 
 once to Mr. Helps. But the end was nearer 
 than any one had supposed; the power of articu- 
 lation failed first, then the brain became clouded, 
 and in a few days she died. Her good son 
 pinched himself to lay her decently in the grave 
 by the side of his boy. 
 
 Not many Mondays after that I found Abbot's 
 
28 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 Street choked up with curious, excited gazers, 
 and policemen passing to and fro between Mrs. 
 Jones the pawnbroker's and Mrs. Brent's house. 
 With breathless dismay I learnt that there had 
 been an extensive robbery from a mercer's shop 
 in the city ; that a piece of rich blue silk, enough 
 for a gown, had been brought by Mrs. Brent to 
 Mrs. Jones, with a lame story of its being the 
 gift of an affluent brother; that Mrs. Jones had, 
 very properly, confided her suspicions to the 
 head of the police, and that Brent's house had 
 been promptly searched. To the astonishment 
 of every one, it was found u crammed " with 
 stolen goods from garret to cellar, in every 
 spot where the master of the house was not 
 likely to detect them. The wretched young 
 woman and her eldest girl had been examined 
 at the police-office, the former displaying won- 
 derful coolness and cunning in her answers, 
 the latter wringing her hands in such an agony 
 of grief and terror as quite unmanned some 
 of the spectators. What a fearful web of 
 deceit was then unravelled ! And the saddest 
 part of it was that the children had been 
 trained to be apt accomplices, not only in 
 shop-lifting to a great extent, but in deceiving 
 
L] of A CITY. 29 
 
 their upright, noble-minded father. Stolen 
 goods were brought to that house from towns 
 twenty miles off, advantage being taken of 
 Brent's incessant occupations abroad to stow 
 them away under his roof. The children were 
 placed as sentinels to give timely notice of 
 his approach, and more than once the thieves 
 who were in league with his unhappy wife 
 remained whole nights in hiding on his 
 premises. 
 
 Jessy, the girl, was soon liberated, and on her 
 return home devoted herself with praiseworthy 
 zeal to her household duties. A long spell of 
 imprisonment has had, I trust, a beneficial 
 effect on the guilty mother. Love of dress 
 (she owned to me in the prison) had been the 
 root of all this frightful evil. An elderly 
 woman of depraved character, a denizen of 
 Crook Lane, had aided and abetted her first 
 attempts to possess herself of some article of 
 finery by fraudulent means. Having thus 
 got Mrs. Brent into her power, she made a 
 cat's-paw of her, and introduced her into a 
 nest of thieves, threatening, whenever her hapless 
 victim tried to shake her off, to reveal the whole 
 story to Brent. Thus the indulgence of a seem- 
 
30 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 ingly venial fault led to a tissue of crime, dis- 
 grace, and misery. 
 
 c ' ? Tw as but a little drop of sin 
 This morning entered in, 
 And lo! at eventide the" soul "is drowned!" 
 
 The evening after Mrs. Brent's trial, which 
 took place at the next assizes, her husband 
 came to our house and asked to speak with me 
 alone. There was something awful in his stern, 
 repressed grief, and the lines of deep suffering 
 on his pale, rigid face. But he said not a word 
 about his own feelings ; he had come to speak ol 
 her and of the children. He was determined 
 they should henceforward go regularly to day 
 and Sunday school ; would I have an eye to his 
 little girls sometimes ? As to her, she was his 
 wife still, though a criminal, and when her term 
 should expire he had made up his mind to take 
 her back and give her a home, and do his best 
 to keep her straight ; perhaps if he had been 
 more watchful over her this might never have 
 happened. 
 
 Thus did this right-hearted man, who had 
 judged of another's truth and integrity by his 
 own, try to excuse her by accusing himself! I 
 have seldom felt sadder than I did that night, 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 31 
 
 as I watched him returning, with slow step and 
 drooping head, to his worse than motherless 
 children. Five years have passed since that in- 
 terview, and Mrs. Brent is reinstated at home 
 and all things appear to be going smoothly, but 
 the look of care and sadness on her husband's 
 brow remains deeply stamped. The children 
 seem much improved ; the Lord's day is 
 strictly observed by them ; in dark winter even- 
 ings their mother sometimes accompanies them 
 to the house of God, but by daylight nothing 
 will induce her to come forth or mingle with her 
 former acquaintances. On one occasion only I 
 heard of her partially breaking through this re- 
 serve. " I have nothing for the club this week, 
 Miss Dutton," she said one Monday last autumn; 
 " I spent it on a ' cheap trip ' with some of the 
 children to Haseldyne, my birthplace, last Fri- 
 day; I longed so to see the old place again." I 
 was pleased with this touch of feeling, and in- 
 quired whether she had any relatives still living 
 at Haseldyne. 
 
 " Not one," she replied, the tears starting into 
 her eyes and the burning blush into her cheeks ; 
 " I couldn't have looked them in the face if I 
 had ; but I could stand by my father's and my 
 
32 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap- 
 
 mother's grave " A burst of weeping cut 
 
 short the sentence. 
 
 A queenly-looking old lady, an octogenarian 
 inhabiting the next tenement, received us with 
 open arms. Shakespeare's proverbial line, 
 " What's in a name ? that which we call a rose," 
 &c. &c, was not verified in this instance, for 
 with Mrs. King our name was our passport. 
 She proved to be a "Dutton legatee," one of 
 several aged persons (all dead now), who as free- 
 holders' widows received an annuity of £8, be- 
 queathed by our " foremother " Dame Dutton. 
 We fell in with several of these widows, and very 
 curious their reminiscences were of the old elec- 
 tioneering system, now a thing of the past — the 
 days when seats in Parliament were contested, 
 and gold showered down like rain, not from 
 principle, nor even from party spirit, but from a 
 keen longing for the distinction. Then Whig 
 strained every nerve to unseat Whig, and Tory 
 Tory ; and the Trowtbeckes and Duttons spent 
 (may I not say wasted ?) thousands they could 
 ill afford on this hereditary strife. Widow King, 
 though oblivious of modern events, lighted up at 
 the recollection of those stirring times. She de- 
 scribed as occurrences of yesterday the chairing 
 
I.] OF A CITY. 33 
 
 of Sir Eyles Dutton in 179-, and how he caught 
 a hunch of mouldy bread thrown at him on the 
 hustings, cut a slice with his penknife, and ate it 
 amid the plaudits of the rabble ! Widow Gill, 
 another legatee, was a child in those days, but 
 didn't she remember that hay-harvest when the 
 county election was pending, and her grands- 
 father had the handles of the hay-forks painted 
 blue and picked out with red, the Dutton colours ! 
 Widow Coppock had her traditions too. She 
 had kept a day-school sixty-five years before, 
 and the elite of Norminster had attended it 
 Our famous clockmaker, now an elderly gen- 
 tleman, who wears a brown wig and enjoys 
 a European renown for his mechanical skill, 
 once lisped his alphabet at her knee and tasted 
 of her correction. So did our leading uphol- 
 sterer, and so did the last town-clerk but one ! 
 She delighted to tell how Sir Eyles and his 
 three brothers, all tall and fair and free, used 
 to walk round Norminster canvassing, and how 
 she mounted her " Button" pupils on benches 
 at the window to see them pass, and how Sir 
 Eyles smiled at their red and blue rosettes, and 
 the little "Duttons" hurrahed, but "the little 
 Trowtbcckes sat still and looked sour ! " 
 
 D 
 
34 ST REE TS AND LANES OF A CITY. [ch. i. 
 
 These humble chroniclers of old family anec- 
 dotes, as connected with county and city history, 
 gave one curious glimpses into the life of the 
 past century, and in particular into the reckless 
 hospitalities of the Duttons to high and low ; 
 their packs of hounds and " mains of cocks," &c. 
 entailing enormous expenses, poorly balanced 
 by a little short-lived popularity, or by " Madam 
 Dutton's" gain at a county race of "a 50/. 
 plate for the running of her grey filly Timoclea." 
 
 The river of Lethe, says Lord Bacon, runneth 
 as well above ground as below; and time, "the 
 great winding-sheet that covers up all things in 
 oblivion/' is fast effacing every trace of the feuds 
 and factions that convulsed Norminster sixty 
 years ago. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 "But look your lore be true and wise, 
 The lamp you light burn clear." — Keble 
 
 CONSISTENCY, we are told, is almost as hard to 
 be met with as the fabled philosopher's stone. 
 Yet what is a district visitor worth without it ? 
 It is a grave consideration that harm may be 
 done — is done daily — by us district visitors, in as 
 far as we fail to view our work in the right light, 
 or to set about it in the right spirit. If we are 
 harsh, if we are inquisitorial, if we are indiscreet 
 in listening to "jangle," or hastily acting upon 
 it ; if we allow ourselves in partialities or anti- 
 pathies, or open our ears to flattery, or are 
 spasmodic in our work — eager one week, flagging 
 the next — these defects neutralize our efforts, and 
 stir up much bad feeling, much impure sediment, 
 in the hearts we desire to cleanse and sweeten. 
 How much, then, do we lack wisdom ! how 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 incessantly should we seek it, " secretly, among 
 the faithful, and in the congregation ! " At Nor- 
 minster, we are happy in having the opportunity 
 of presenting our collective requests at the 
 Throne of Grace each morning and evening, in 
 our old Abbey Church, and of listening there to 
 those Scriptures without a right understanding 
 of which we shall be as the blind leading the 
 blind. Those "set, awful hours 'twixt Heaven, 
 and us," ought to help towards depth, and 
 solidity, and humility, and shield us from the 
 error we are often charged with, of " dealing in 
 muslin theology " — a shallow, confident hand- 
 ling of sacred topics. 
 
 On the other hand, a constant, conscious lean- 
 ing on the Divine Arm is needed, to save us at 
 times from what an old writer calls "unprofitable 
 sadness." What earnest visitor in the streets 
 and lanes of the city does not sometimes start 
 back appalled from the forms of vice that meet 
 her ? Can we see the ungodly forsaking His 
 law, and not sometimes be "horribly afraid?" 
 Nay, is not our belief in God's love sometimes 
 harassed and distressed, if not liable to be un- 
 settled, by the apparently wholesale ruin of souls 
 we see in our worst courts and alleys ? By 
 
II. j OF A CITY. 37 
 
 prayer and supplication alone, with thanks- 
 giving, can our cheerful trust in that love be 
 maintained. We learn at His footstool that we 
 are here not to speculate, not to despond, but to 
 trust and to work, and we commit those souls to 
 Him who knows their disadvantages, their temp- 
 tations, their ignorance, their hereditary taints, 
 and perhaps sees in them " some good thing " 
 not visible to us. 
 
 * ' Then at the balance let's be mute, 
 We never can adjust it ; 
 What's done we partly may compute, 
 But know not what's resisted." 
 
 There is a young fellow, Joe Huggins, now 
 serving with credit to himself on a line of 
 American mail steamers, whose history has 
 taught me to despair of no one. His father, a 
 dissipated character, died several years ago in 
 Crook Lane. I happened to be at a sick person's 
 near, when I observed a hubbub at his door, and 
 some women ran to call me in to Huggins, who 
 had broken a blood-vessel. He was lying on 
 the floor in a pool of blood ; the wife, half stupi- 
 fied with drink, was dangling rather than hold- 
 ing a baby in her arms, and two ragged little 
 boys were staring at the scene and at the doctor 
 
38 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 who was busy about the sufferer. " No use pre- 
 scribing for him here, Miss Dutton," said the 
 doctor ; " unless he's carried to the hospital at 
 once, the man hasn't a chance ! " But when this 
 idea was propounded to the wife, she flew into a 
 violent passion, and declared, with screams and 
 sobs, she couldn't let him go; "she didn't care 
 what the doctor nor all the doctors in the world 
 said ; he wur her partner, and from that house 
 he shouldn't stir." The busy doctor, finding 
 his reasonings vain, shrugged his shoulders and 
 departed, leaving the virago on my hands. I 
 happily bethought me of an old gentleman of 
 some position who lived not far off, and sent for 
 him. He came to the rescue with great vigour 
 and complete disregard of Mrs. Huggins's maudlin 
 sentimentality, and worked so well that we had 
 the comfort of seeing Huggins safe in a ward of 
 the hospital within an hour. There he spent the 
 last six weeks of his life in quiet, and amid good 
 influences. 
 
 The widow " flitted," that is, changed her place 
 of abode, as the discreditable and godless 
 amongst our population are perpetually doing, 
 and I lost sight of her for four years. She re- 
 appeared, in a house in a low court, within 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 39 
 
 another low court, off Crook Lane. Oh the 
 squalor of that den, and its inhabitants ! — the 
 mother, and the one hapless girl whom she had 
 brought up to sin and shame, so dirty that you 
 could neither tell the colour of their garments 
 nor of their skin ; both had that abject, cunning 
 yet impudent manner of replying when spoken 
 to, which one is at a loss how to deal with. The 
 ci-devant baby was now a puny 'cute-looking 
 urchin of five, with face and hands deeply be- 
 grimed, and absolutely in sores for want of 
 washing. A tattered smock was his only 
 garment. The group was completed by a 
 youth of twenty, very clean, and with hair cut 
 short and smooth. He was lounging against the 
 house-door, with a woe-begone, " hang-dog" look 
 in his blue eyes, and the lines of starvation 
 visible in every feature. 
 
 My object, that morning and many others, 
 was to obt^rn recruits from this wretched purlieu 
 for an excellent " ragged school " lately opened 
 in its close neighbourhood. 
 
 Now little Jack Huggins, " and such small 
 deer," were precisely the game I was after, so I 
 greeted him and endeavoured to begin an 
 acquaintance ; but the incipient Arab looked 
 
4Q THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 suspiciously at me, and ran for shelter to his big 
 brother, clasping him tight round the knees 
 with both his emaciated little hands. Such shy- 
 ness being best dealt with by a little wholesome 
 neglect, I now devoted myself to Joe, but could 
 elicit little from him except that he had been 
 out of work for many months, only getting a 
 "job in the coal office " at very rare intervals. 
 He did not grumble or beg, but seemed 
 thoroughly crushed. It seemed strange that a 
 " likely lad " should be unable to find employ- 
 ment, but, in my blindness, I never suspected 
 the true solution of the enigma, viz. that Joe 
 had been three or four times already in Normin- 
 ster jail for theft. His last offence had been 
 stealing some game at his mother's instigation. 
 
 I spoke to Joe at last about wee Jack, and 
 tried to enlist his aid in getting him to school, 
 describing the care, the kindness, the blessed 
 teaching the child would receive there. Joes 
 pallid face lighted up at this, and he promised 
 his co-operation with a heartiness quite unex- 
 pected. " Oh yea, he would w r ash him, he would 
 comb his hair, he would put him in at the 
 skewle door at the right toime, that he would ! 
 Jack should get some laming, that he should ! * 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 41 
 
 and «, look of strong determination gave his 
 features quite a dignity. Meanwhile, it was 
 amusing to see little Jack's face raised, in earnest 
 attention to the dialogue on which hung his fate. 
 The prospect of " skewle " had no charms for 
 him, that was clear, but Joe's will was law, and 
 must not be gainsaid ; and presently, when the 
 agreeable prospect of two dinners a week pro- 
 vided at the school for well-behaved starvelings 
 dawned upon him, his objections to learning 
 seemed to melt away. It only remained to 
 provide him with such raiment as was absolutely 
 needful, and this I promised,, on Joe's hearty 
 assurance that he wouldn't let it go to the pawn- 
 shop. "Now,. Johnnie," said I, as we parted, 
 "you are to come to our house with Joseph at 
 six, and you shall have a little coat." " Oo ay, 
 missus," was little Jack's prompt reply, with the 
 most impish look and grin, " and see if I don't 
 get a pair of trousers from ye too !" and the urchin 
 laughed in my face. It was not easy to refrain 
 from laughing too, so comic were his look and 
 gestures ; yet what deep tragedy lay beneath ! 
 
 Jack has gone to school ever since — somewhat 
 irregularly, it must be owned, except on dinner 
 days. He looks you in the face now, and his 
 
42 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 face and hands are clean, types and tokens of 
 some degree of moral cleansing, we will hope. 
 By Mr. Rayner's advice, I requested a kind 
 neighbour, a town councillor, to give poor Joe 
 some stone-breaking to do, by way of testing his 
 willingness to earn his bread honestly. " Quite 
 useless, ma'am," was his sensible reply ; {i I know 
 the lad well — indeed, so w T ell that he gets out of 
 my way; he's been too often in jail to stick to 
 stone-breaking ; I'm sorry for him, for, bad as 
 he is, he's the best of the bunch, but he'll do 
 no good as long as he's, at home." 
 
 " What is to be done with you, Joseph ? " I 
 exclaimed, almost in despair, when that same 
 evening the poor lad came to our doorstep for 
 some broken victuals to still the gnawings of 
 hunger. He lifted his head, and with a wistful, 
 earnest look, answered, " Send me to sea, and 
 I'll do you no discredit ! " It so happened that 
 the wind was blowing a hurricane at the time, 
 and some elms opposite our door were writhing 
 and bending in the blast. "What," I asked, 
 pointing to them and to the fast drifting 
 clouds, " could you meet such a storm and 
 not wish yourself ashore ? " " I could," he said 
 composedly, and the words have proved no 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 43 
 
 mere bravado. Through the kind intercession 
 of one of the magnates of Norminster, Joseph 
 was taken on board one of the fine line of 
 steamers already alluded to, the benevolent 
 manager being, of course, made fully aware 
 of his antecedents. 
 
 Mr. Rayner helped me to " rig him out " for 
 the region of icebergs through which he was to 
 pass in that wintry season ; he helped me, too, 
 in the yet more important endeavour to break 
 up the fallow ground of that young heart, and 
 sow some seeds of Divine truth there. Joseph 
 never having been put to school, nor taught 
 even his letters, oral instruction was our only 
 resource. A most attentive listener he was ; 
 and the simple grandeur of the Bible words 
 seemed to rouse and rivet his thoughts. I 
 shall not forget his awestruck mien when 
 hearkening to the 19th and 20th chapters of 
 Exodus, the Law given on Mount Sinai with 
 thunderings and lightnings and earthquakes. 
 I had proceeded some way through the Ten 
 Commandments, when he stopped me with the 
 impetuous cry, " I never hear'd a word on all 
 this afore, only droonkenness ! " Oh that his 
 ways may be made so direct that he may 
 
44 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 keep those commandments ! So far he has 
 done well ; returned from several voyages with 
 untarnished character, and brought me his 
 wages with childlike simplicity to lay out for 
 him. He has a small nest-egg in the Post 
 Office Bank ; small, because I cannot, and 
 perhaps would not, hinder him altogether from 
 helping his thriftless family. After one of his 
 voyages he brought Jack (whom he had left 
 ill) a costly rug from New York. Another time 
 he expended a sovereign on his two other 
 brothers, working lads, their mother having, as 
 the kind woman they lodged with phrased it, 
 "drank their boots one Saturday night." 
 
 Joe's steamer is his pride and delight, his 
 home, his world ; and when, after his last 
 voyage, he brought a photograph of himself, 
 and sheepishly squeezed it into my hand, he 
 expressed much regret that the name of her 
 (the steamer), woven in gold threads on the 
 front of his sailor's cap, "warn't big enough 
 to be read in the picter." Poor fellow ! the 
 Helper of the friendless has indeed cared for 
 him, and drawn him out of the mire and clay, 
 and ordered his goings. May so much love 
 and mercy not have been bestowed in vain! 
 
ii.] OF A CITY. 45 
 
 Look from the point where Crook Lane 
 debouches into Abbot Street, at that one- 
 storied house with sash windows and grass- 
 green knocker. Thither would I transport you 
 at once, with one glance only at the inter- 
 vening house and the entry between it and 
 Brent's. The house I never could glance at 
 without a shudder, for a couple, " aged but 
 unvenerable," dwelt and passed away there, 
 absolutely enslaved by the demon of drink, 
 deaf to the loving admonitions of their pastor, 
 "charm he never so wisely," deaf alike to the 
 voice of conscience, the manifold warnings sent 
 to them by a long-suffering God. The house 
 has been pulled down lately, and I am glad 
 of it. The entry is mostly peopled from the 
 Emerald Isle. Madame de Genlis's dictum 
 respecting negroes, that they are either " tout 
 bons, ou tout mauvais," might apply to these 
 nine or ten families. Some of them are as 
 inoffensive, hard-working, and grateful folk as 
 you could meet with anywhere ; others, again, 
 as remarkable for brawling, drinking, begging, 
 and telling unblushing falsehoods. The former 
 class we arc on very neighbourly terms with ; 
 and the trifling services wc render them, in the 
 
46 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 absence of any gentry of their own persuasion, 
 are received with a fervour of gratitude quite 
 disproportionate to their value. Polemics we 
 mostly avoid, not from indifference, but from 
 a conviction that they are scarcely within a 
 woman's province ; nor do they obtrude them 
 upon us. In fact, their main spokeswoman, 
 Stasy Riley, disposed of all controversial dif- 
 ficulties between us one day in the most 
 summary manner, by exclaiming, "Och, darling 
 where's the odds betwixt us, save that we say 
 Hail Mary, and you do na ?" We were fain to 
 accept the germ of truth in Stasy's sweeping 
 assertion, and look rather for points of agree- 
 ment than for points of variance with these 
 honest people. 
 
 To return to the house with the grass-green 
 knocker, occupied by a notable Yorkshire woman, 
 a Mrs. Creyke, with her tailor husband and five 
 children. Two of the rooms were reserved for 
 lodgers. About eight years ago, on my return 
 from a week's absence, Mr. Helps told me that 
 these rooms had been engaged for a lady, the 
 widow of a medical man, reduced, together with 
 her three children, to utter destitution. Her 
 husband had practised in England, then in 
 
ii. j OF A CITY, 47 
 
 Australia, and at one time made a good 
 income. But the crash of an Australian bank 
 (in 1856, I think) had swept away his savings. 
 He had removed to the gold-fields, but soon 
 after died there at the age of thirty-five. The 
 widow, up to the time of her marriage governess 
 in a highly-connected family, had returned to 
 England, and opened with energy and success a 
 boarding-school for girls in a southern county 
 town. But, alas ! her health was undermined, 
 and in a year or two her arduous work 
 had to be given up. Next she had been 
 attracted by a Norminster advertisement, and 
 tried a small day-school in one of our suburbs. 
 But the fatal disease was gaining ground, and a 
 chilly autumn so told upon her, that all attempts 
 at teaching had to be given up. The Epsom 
 Medical Charity generously granted her two 
 donations of 5/. each, but these were soon 
 spent. Poverty deepened into urgent distress, 
 and distress into want ; happily, the true state 
 of the case became known to the Rector of St. 
 Magnus, and he raised among his parishioners 
 a fund for Mrs. Fitzpatrick's immediate relief; 
 her lodgings, often changed, and always for the 
 worse, were still too costly, so she was trans- 
 
48 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 ferred to Mrs. Creyke's, and the remains of the 
 fund placed in Mr. Helps's hands for her benefit. 
 All was done with the utmost care not to hurt 
 her feelings. 
 
 I lifted the green knocker that November 
 afternoon, not in the capacity of district but 
 of morning visitor. If some romantic imagin- 
 ings touching the poor lady, prompted by the 
 knowledge of her many misfortunes and her 
 brave struggles, had entered my brain, they 
 took flight in her presence, " mocked by the 
 touch of life's realities." She sat in a high- 
 backed chair provided for her use, a rusty 
 black shawl dragged over her shoulders, a 
 rusty black cap set awry on her head, a plate 
 of oyster-shells on the table by her side. Her 
 face, when she raised it, showed traces of beauty 
 of feature and complexion, but the brow knitted 
 and lined with many furrows, and the irritable 
 glance and fretful voice that scanned and 
 addressed me, were chilling in the extreme. 
 A tall, graceful boy of thirteen, who was 
 lounging full length on the horsehair sofa, 
 rose, however, and made up for his mother's 
 shortcomings by the most profuse expressions 
 of delight at my visit, couched in language 
 
ir.] OF A CITY. 49 
 
 worthy of Lord Chesterfield. Thus the ice 
 was broken, and Master Gerald and I kept up 
 the battledore and shuttlecock of conversation 
 pretty briskly, Mrs. Fitzpatrick only putting in 
 a few plaintive words now and then, in a breath- 
 less whisper. Somehow, the boy's volubility and 
 overstrained precocious politeness did not please 
 me, contrasting as they did with his marked 
 rudeness towards his mother. When I inquired 
 after the younger children, the poor lady roused 
 herself to say querulously that they were so in- 
 corrigibly naughty there was no keeping them 
 at home ; they had already picked up some 
 playfellows in Crook Lane, she believed, and 
 had run off with them, out of her ken ! Gerald 
 ought to look after them better ; he must go 
 and fetch them in now. But Gerald was con- 
 veniently deaf to this injunction, and blind to 
 certain " nods and becks " of mine, intended 
 to strengthen his mother's authority. A pause 
 ensued, broken by the sound of pattering feet. 
 I looked through the window, and saw an 
 elegant girl of nine, with long floating golden 
 hair, flying hatless through the foggy street 
 with a rabble of rude Crook Lane lasses and 
 lads at her heels. Her face was sparkling with 
 
 E 
 
50 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 glee, as amid the noisy laughter of the others 
 she sprang up to the knocker, and dealt a blow 
 which shook the old house and the sick mother 
 to their centres. The latter, with an angry 
 moan, ordered Gerald to open the door ; he 
 obeyed, but so languidly that Mrs. Creyke had 
 admitted the culprit and her little brother, and 
 poured a volley of broad Yorkshire scolding on 
 their heads, before Gerald was in the passage. 
 I just heard Gerald say tartly to her, " Mrs. 
 Creyke, how dare you speak so to Teresa ? we 
 are gentlemen and ladies, you know ! " and 
 then the little runagates entered hand in hand, 
 looking so charmingly fresh and sweet that my 
 heart went out to them instantly. The little 
 violet-eyed Fred peeped shyly at me from 
 under his long dark lashes, and a friendship 
 was about to ensue, when poor Mrs. Fitz- 
 patrick, quite exhausted, ordered them to the 
 bedroom upstairs. Fred screamed and resisted, 
 whereupon his mother bestowed upon him a 
 passionate box on the ear, repented of as soon 
 as given, and instantly followed by an equally 
 passionate hug. It was a painful, uncomfortable 
 scene to witness, and I rose to take leave. "Ah," 
 she said, " you are like every one that comes to 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 51 
 
 see me, — in a hurry to go ; it was otherwise with 
 me in my palmy days ; " and she sank back with 
 a bitter little laugh. 
 
 This first visit was of a piece with many more. 
 Mrs. Fitzpatrick grew visibly weaker, and the 
 oppression on her chest made it agony to speak 
 or move ; still she persevered heroically in com- 
 ing down-stairs daily — to keep her eye on the 
 children, she vainly flattered herself — in reality, 
 to chafe the untamed little spirits of Teresa and 
 Fred by sharp rebukes, and capricious orders 
 she had no power to enforce ; and to confirm 
 Gerald in the love of low company, and in 
 habits of selfish cunning. 
 
 Mr. Helps partially remedied these evils by 
 insisting on the trio attending our excellent 
 National, Infant, and Sunday-schools, and seve- 
 ral kind ladies took turns with us in taking 
 charge of them at our houses on Saturdays ; 
 still there was much to be deplored in the 
 management of these poor young creatures, 
 and their very quickness arid cleverness seemed 
 to aggravate the mischief. 
 
 My diary in March says, " A truly melancholy 
 attendance : Gerald sly ; those pretty little ones 
 daily wilder and ' spoilter ;' Mrs. F. eager that 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 I should write appeals to her (or rather to Dr. 
 F.'s) connections ; replies most unsatisfactory ! 
 The ' one thing needful ' seems in danger of 
 being quite thrust out of sight by these pressing 
 cares and miseries. Seldom can I introduce any 
 reference to it, or get her to listen to reading : 
 one comfort is, that she sometimes quotes with 
 interest remarks made by Mr. Helps on the 
 passages of Holy Scripture which he reads 
 to her." 
 
 Oh vain and arrogant stricture, as it seems 
 to me in the retrospect ! What was I, reared in 
 the lap of peace and plenty, blessed with the 
 golden mean between poverty and riches, igno- 
 rant of the bare meaning of those gaunt words, 
 hunger, debt, pennilessness ? What was I, that 
 I should thus dissect a mind "sick with many 
 griefs, ,, racked, strained, and goaded to the 
 uttermost by all these things, and more ? The 
 sequel of this poor lady's history shows that 
 there was a work going on within her stricken 
 breast which God alone knew of; its visible 
 result was soon to appear and gladden our 
 hearts. 
 
 It was not in Mrs. Fitzpatrick's nature, evi- 
 dently, to do anything by halves. When the 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 53 
 
 hour came that the sinking frame could fight up 
 against its weakness no longer, she quietly struck 
 her flag, and folded her hands in calm waiting 
 for the approach of the "last enemy. ,, Her pas- 
 sive self-surrender was as remarkable as had 
 been the feverish stir of the last three months. 
 " All of a wild March morning" she took to her 
 bed, and never rose from it again. She asked 
 me to make arrangements with honest Mrs. 
 Creyke for the expenditure of her weekly sti- 
 pend ; she even empowered her to control the 
 young " destructives," and was rewarded for 
 this great effort by a visible improvement in 
 their behaviour. She was now so enfeebled 
 that it became expedient to engage a respectable 
 nurse-tender who lived hard by, to wait upon 
 her. Though low and homely, the little bed- 
 room was scrupulously clean, and furnished with 
 many comforts by several ladies who deeply 
 compassionated Mrs. Fitzpatrick. With what 
 a restful feeling did I visit her now ! There 
 was the poor weary head lying calmly on its 
 snowy pillow, the brown hair just touched with 
 grey, braided smoothly back, the forehead no 
 longer puckered with the lines of irritability 
 and carkine care. 
 
 o 
 
54 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 And little Teresa and Fred, no longer fright- 
 ened and bewildered by those alternate bursts 
 of anger and tenderness, might now be seen 
 nestling up to Mamma, and laying their rose- 
 pink cheeks against her sunken and pale ones. 
 It was too much for her sometimes, and her 
 paroxysms of anguish at leaving these little 
 ones behind were heartrending to witness. One 
 day their clean clothes were brought in, and 
 Nurse Dawes laid some small garments of 
 Freddy's at the foot of the bed. " Take those 
 little things away/' she whispered to me, in a 
 tone of intense misery ; " I cannot bear to see 
 them." Another day, when preparing to receive 
 the Holy Sacrament, she lifted her hands and 
 cried out, "Am I, oh, am I fit to meet my Lord 
 and Master,, when my mind is distracted for 
 my poor children ? " But the heavenly pro- 
 mises brought to her memory by good Mr. 
 Rayner, who was present at the time, had a 
 powerful effect in calming her. She no longer 
 shut herself up in bitter, hopeless reserve ; the 
 "fount of tears " was happily unsealed now, and 
 after an agony of weeping she was generally 
 more hopeful and calm than before. We came 
 to an explanation, too, which tended to relieve 
 
ii.] OF A CITY. 55 
 
 her mind. The Fitzpatricks, she said, were 
 proud, and had never "got over" their son's 
 marrying a governess ; but when she was gone, 
 she felt sure they would relent, and take charge 
 of Gerald : to complete his education, and put 
 him out in life, would be the extent of what 
 they could do, for it seems they were as poor as 
 proud. This negotiation I promised to under- 
 take, if spared to do so. The two little ones 
 might, by the united efforts of those who took 
 an interest in their mother, be placed in orphan 
 asylums ; and I ventured, after much thought, 
 to cheer the dying woman with a solemn assu- 
 rance that no stone should be left unturned to 
 accomplish this. Her look of ineffable relief is 
 before my mind's eye yet " One thing more 
 might I ask ? " said she. " Might Gerald follow 
 me to the grave ? " I promised this too, and 
 that he should not stand there alone, poor 
 boy ; we would accompany him, God willing. 
 " Then," said she, sinking back on her pillow, 
 " I have npthing left to do but to fly to my 
 Father's arms ! Dear friend, dear sister, read 
 me a chapter from the Gospels ; the struggle 
 is over now." 
 
 Mrs. Fitzpatrick lived ten days after this. 
 
55 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 Her sufferings seemed much relieved by the 
 recumbent posture, and the rest and warmth of 
 bed ; in fact, she made so great a rally that 
 the hospital surgeon whom we had called in 
 thought it possible she might linger for months ; 
 and Nurse Dawes and Mrs. Creyke looked at 
 each other and at me ominously, the latter not 
 disguising that she w r as heartily tired of " the 
 concern," and especially of Gerald's insolent, 
 deceitful ways, and flat refusals to do as he 
 was bid. Clearly, however, the poor lady could 
 not be moved, so there was nothing for it but 
 to do one's best, day by day, for both parties, 
 husbanding our small resources as far as was 
 consistent with the sick woman's comfort. She, 
 poor soul, knowing^ nothing of these difficulties, 
 was growing quite cheerful and light-hearted at 
 times, and really loveable and engaging. I think 
 her mind was now much occupied w T ith a review 
 of her past life : she seemed to like clothing 
 these recollections in words, so while knitting 
 for hours by her bedside, only pausing occasion- 
 ally to put to her lips a draught of milk or 
 wine and water, I obtained a very vivid and 
 thrilling idea of her adventurous career. She 
 had been early left an orphan, with a younger 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 57 
 
 brother Fred, and a child-sister, Louisa. They 
 both died very young : Fred was the apple of 
 her eye, evidently ; indeed she could not speak 
 of him without dangerous agitation. In her 
 boxes I found, after her death, exquisite water- 
 colour drawings done by him: one of a wood 
 with a primrose-studded bank in the foreground, 
 another a sea-piece, were disposed of for consi- 
 derable sums for the benefit of the orphans. I 
 have in my possession letters from Mrs. Fitz- 
 patrick to Fred, which it would be difficult for 
 any one to read unmoved. She was, as I said 
 before, governess in a highly-connected family, 
 trusted and beloved ; but she expresses her 
 willingness to give up that position, and become 
 a daily teacher, sooner than see Louisa unpro- 
 tected. " If I can help Lou," she writes, " it 
 will make me far happier than anything would 
 that merely benefited myself. Dear Fred, as 
 you truly say, I am not rich, else I would not 
 dole out help to you so scantily : do not use the 
 word ' pay,' for it implies a debt. I only wish 
 my love for you paid back in similar coin. When 
 I am in want of money, if you have any to 
 spare I will accept it, but not as a debt. I 
 have known your generous, loving spirit from a 
 
58 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 child. May disappointment never break it ! may 
 celebrity and riches attend my dear brother, and 
 enable him to gratify the wishes of his kind 
 heart ! My own dear Fred, none will rejoice in 
 your success more than your Dora." 
 
 Her marriage had been one of true attach- 
 ment : three years after it some friends in 
 Australia, then at the height of its gold-digging 
 fever, persuaded the young couple to join them. 
 I keep, for the benefit of his children, a docu- 
 ment signed by the passengers on board the 
 Martin Luther, thanking Dr. Fitzpatrick in ear- 
 nest terms, " for the care, diligence, and pro- 
 fessional skill " which he had shown during the 
 voyage to Port Phillip. " Those were bright days 
 indeed," sighed the widow ; " with my husband 
 at my side, and my boy in my arms, no queen 
 so happy as I ! " Their pecuniary prospects were 
 cheering too, for doctors rapidly grew rich in the 
 colony then. Diggers, verifying the proverb 
 " light come, light go," were prodigal in the fees 
 they bestowed on their medical advisers ; the 
 lucky adventurer who threw away forty pounds 
 on a " shiny gown for his missus," did not grudge 
 twice that sum to the ^Esculapius who prescribed 
 for her successfully. So the Fitzpatricks put 
 
ii.] OF A CITY. 59 
 
 by large sums, but lost all, as I have said. 
 Sad, sad is the sequel of the story. Dr. Fitz- 
 patrick went to the diggings, eager to retrieve 
 his losses ; and his wife, already detecting in 
 his hectic colour and short cough the signs of 
 incipient consumption, braved much hardship 
 rather than be parted from him. With tearless 
 eyes she described their life under canvas, be- 
 neath the burning summer skies of Victoria, the 
 hum of busy, excited thousands, all seeking for 
 " they bright things that lie thick as carrots 
 underneath the 'arth ;" the wild ecstasy of some, 
 the gambling, the revelling, the ruin and despair 
 of others. Night brought no quiet there, no 
 respite from murderous brawls and orgies which 
 the scanty police could not take cognizance of ; 
 there her husband toiled on, but a few ounces 
 only repaid his exertions, and but for his pro- 
 fessional earnings they must have starved. Then 
 came the days and nights of rain, and the weary, 
 heart-broken man worked on, often up tohis knees 
 in water, till a violent fever laid him low. A little 
 hut on the edge of a majestic forest of iron-bark 
 trees was their only refuge. There little Fred 
 was born, truly a son of sorrow ; and there his 
 lather died, conscious at the last, able to trust 
 
60 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 his widow and fatherless ones to God, and so 
 depart in peace. She told with straightforward 
 simplicity how, in his dying hour, he had thanked 
 her for her wifely devotion, and said, that " her 
 rectitude had been his best earthly stay when 
 all other supports had failed." He lies under 
 the purple shadows of Mount Macedon, in the 
 iron-bark forest, whose magnificent trunks, fluted 
 with the exquisite regularity of Doric columns, 
 form a vast temple to their Creator's glory. No 
 clergyman was present to say the words of peace 
 over the dead, or baptize the new-born child. 
 An itinerant preacher, who was passing by that 
 remote spot, was called in to perform the latter 
 office for the delicate infant, its little life appa- 
 rently hanging by a thread. 
 
 A subscription amongst the open-hearted and 
 open-handed diggers defrayed Mrs. Fitzpatrick's 
 return to England. Her narrative at this point 
 strongly reminded me of an unpublished remark 
 of Dr. Johnson's, handed down through Mrs. 
 Garrick to a dear old friend of mine. It was 
 announced one day in his presence that the 
 recently widowed Marchioness of Tavistock had 
 died of a broken heart. " Had the Marchioness of 
 Tavistock," said Dr. Johnson, "kept a chandler's 
 
ii.] OF A CITY. 61 
 
 shop, she would not have died of a broken 
 heart!" 
 
 Mrs. Fitzpatrick's " chandler's shop" was that 
 boarding-school I have mentioned : by it she 
 supported her children till disease of the lungs 
 forced her to give it up. When her powers of 
 teaching failed, she painted and drew for a 
 livelihood ; when illness put a stop to that, she 
 made artificial flowers, or cut out paper decora- 
 tions for grates. It was harrowing to see 
 amongst the few effects she left behind, these 
 tokens of increasing pressure and decreasing 
 strength. Who could wonder at any amount 
 of irritability or exactingness of temper in one 
 so afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not 
 comforted ? 
 
 A great peace, and a growing appreciation of 
 the " exceeding precious promises " of Scripture, 
 were granted to the sufferer as time wore 
 on. "'It is I; be not afraid,'" she murmured 
 after mc one evening, — " how beautiful that is ! 
 Can words be more beautiful?" And again, 
 when, seeing her colour quite fade away, I paused 
 in the midst of a Gospel chapter : " Read on ; as 
 long as you are not tired, / delight to hear." The 
 hymn, " Sun of my soul," heard for the first 
 
62 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 time, touched, yet soothed her wonderfully. 
 One day, after lying still with folded arms a 
 good while, she said, " Do you think I shall see 
 Mr. Helps again?" I shook my head ; he had 
 been called away to his distant home by a 
 sudden heavy affliction, and his absence might 
 be indefinitely prolonged. " Then tell him I 
 die trusting alone in my Saviour's death and 
 merits — feeling myself most unworthy ." She 
 uttered these words very slowly, then added : 
 "Tell him I thank him for his kindness, not 
 as a friend only, but as God's servant sent to 
 me." Little Fred now rushed in, and climbed 
 on the bed for a caress : " Dear little man," 
 she said ; " he had become very rough, but is 
 recovering his gentle ways by degrees ; he has 
 good abilities, I think, and will learn well" It 
 was most thankworthy to hear this calm allusion 
 to her darling's future. She played with him, 
 smiled upon him, smoothed his dark hair 
 playfully. She glanced archly towards me at 
 some quaint saying of Nurse Dawes, whose 
 professional talk about " shatterated " nerves 
 and " pecurial symptoms " frequently brought 
 Mrs. Malaprop to mind. 
 
 That was the last flicker of the lamp. It was 
 
ji.] OF A CITY. 63 
 
 a Saturday, and the noisy flow of market people 
 and carts passing her window was incessant. 
 Mr. Rayner had visited and prayed with her; 
 she had afterwards begged me to read to her 
 parts of "that beautiful Litany, where no one 
 is forgotten !" The last tears those grief- worn 
 eyes were ever to shed, had flowed softly over 
 the petition for fatherless children. At six, I 
 had gone home for an hour, leaving Nurse Dawes 
 in charge ; but before seven a motley group 
 of Abbot's Street girls and boys stood at our 
 hall-door, forming a kind of guard of honour 
 to the sylph-like little Teresa. She, poor child, 
 pale and quivering, could only w r hisper, " Mrs. 
 Creyke says Mamma is dying ; please come." A 
 glance at Mrs. Fitzpatrick showed that she was 
 indeed in the heart of the shadowy valley. " Is 
 this death ? " she had asked, rather of herself 
 than of the women who stood around her. The 
 door and window were set wide open, and the 
 cold, darkening air streamed in to help her 
 breathing. She once pressed my hand tightly, 
 but it was evident her communings were no 
 longer with earth, and that awful craving for 
 absolute quiet which the dying often manifest 
 was upon her. Once only she raised her hands 
 
64 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 and eyes and prayed, " Come." The women 
 stood aloof, and I watched by her pillow ; 
 no one spoke ; the children were kept quiet in 
 the kitchen below. A candle in the far corner 
 of the room was left to struggle as it might 
 with the night wind. I saw the stars coming 
 out here and there, and thought she would soon 
 be beyond them ; but though there was comfort 
 in that thought, a weight like lead seemed to 
 press on my heart, and made each minute seem 
 an hour. It was her utter loneliness and her 
 dependence on strangers for the last offices, I 
 think, that caused that dreary, chill feeling. A 
 light footfall on the stair caught my ear, and I 
 saw with great thankfulness a lady enter, who 
 had been, from the first, foremost in acts of 
 loving-kindness to the widow. She told me 
 afterwards that poor Gerald had roamed as far 
 as her house in the restlessness of his sorrow, 
 and that, on hearing of his mother's sinking 
 state, she had instantly come to join me. To- 
 gether we waited the end, in stillness and 
 speechless prayer ; the deep-toned minster 
 bell had not long ceased its nightly tolling at 
 nine o'clock when the end came. It was pre- 
 ceded by an act which, though trivial in itself, 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 65 
 
 was very characteristic, from its rapid decision 
 and energy. She faintly asked for " water," and 
 some was brought, cold from the pump. I was 
 holding the glass to her lips when she grasped 
 it firmly, raised it above her head, and dashed its 
 whole contents over her brow. A few moments 
 more and the spirit had fled. "Thank God," 
 Mrs. Atherton softly said. "A more desolate 
 soul never passed away," were the words that 
 rose to my lips. Then, as we gazed on, my 
 friend added, " How young she looks, and kozv 
 pretty !" I softly closed the poor eyes that had 
 so often waked to weep, then followed Mrs. 
 Atherton to the kitchen, where Gerald was 
 hanging about, looking white and miserable, 
 and the two little ones, sleepy and bewildered, 
 were sitting on the knees of kind neighbours. 
 The sad truth was soon told, and the wail that 
 rose from the orphan trio as its full purport broke 
 on their minds really cut us to the heart. For 
 a time, we could only weep with them ; then, 
 the morrow being Sunday, we bent our thoughts 
 to needful arrangements for their comfort. Gerald 
 was to sleep at some respectable people's next 
 door. A bed was extemporized for the little 
 ones in the parlour. We undressed them and 
 
 F 
 
66 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap 
 
 heard their prayers ; and never shall I forget the 
 pathos of those childish white figures kneeling 
 at our side, nor the mournful cadence in those 
 treble voices as together they chanted " Our 
 Father, which art in heaven." It was the cry 
 of the fatherless indeed. 
 
 The further history of these orphans does not 
 belong to the " Streets and Lanes of a City," 
 so we will dispose of it briefly. As Gerald's 
 mother had predicted, the tidings of her death 
 had a mollifying effect on the Fitzpatrick rela- 
 tions, and they at once took charge of Gerald, 
 engaging to complete his education, and set him 
 up in business. He is still with them in a far 
 distant county, and we keep up a regular corre- 
 spondence, for the sake of his young brother; 
 we hear of him also from the clergyman of his 
 parish, who would fain be his friend and coun- 
 sellor; but "life is thorny, and youth is vain," 
 and the temptations to self-indulgence are strong 
 around him, and find, we fear, a ready response 
 within him. " Unstable as water, thou shalt not 
 excel;" these words describe him but too truly 
 now. May he be led to seek for stability and 
 strength at the hands of Him without whom 
 nothing is strong, nothing is holy ! 
 
IT.] OF A CITY. 67 
 
 Teresa and Fred were left absolutely destitute, 
 no barrier between them and the Union but the 
 tender mercies of Norminster ; and most tender 
 those mercies were. Money flowed in as soon as 
 their needs were made known — more than enough 
 to maintain them for eight months under the 
 roof of a couple who showed them parental kind- 
 ness. Meanwhile a vigorous canvass was set on 
 foot on their behalf, and before the anniversary 
 of their mother's death they were each of them 
 happily settled in a noble Orphan Institution 
 near London. 
 
 So general was the feeling of commiseration 
 excited by their case, that the widow of an 
 opulent tradesman, unknown even by name 
 both to us and them, left a small legacy to each 
 orphan in her will. How at her death that will 
 
 was disputed, and how Mr. Helps, Dr. M , 
 
 and myself were subpoenaed, and had to appear 
 in the Probate Court at Westminster to give 
 evidence upon it, and how the matter was 
 settled by compromise, as most matters are in 
 this world, need not be dwelt upon here ; for 
 assuredly such doings are no necessary, or 
 ordinary, offshoot from district work. 
 
 Fred, now a "senior boy," is receiving an 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 excellent education ; he seems full of promise 
 in every respect, is perfectly happy at school, 
 and enjoys his yearly holidays at Norminster, 
 which he calls " home," and loves as a home. 
 
 The dear, fragile Teresa passed through her 
 school life with an irreproachable character. 
 She and Fred always met for their holidays 
 in Norminster, and clung to each other with a 
 peculiar love. She spent some weeks under our 
 roof, when about fifteen, in order to be instructed 
 for confirmation by Mr. Rayner; and very sweet 
 and modest and conscientious she was. There 
 was much reserve and diffidence in her nature, 
 and some tendency, I think, to melancholy. 
 Deep in her heart lay the remembrance of, and 
 the yearning after, her mother, and after that 
 other grave in the Australian forest. She loved 
 us intensely, as her eager obedience, her watchful 
 care to save us trouble, and sometimes her close 
 clinging embrace, testified ; and Fred she loved 
 with a tender devotion, which had something of 
 grave, quiet motherliness about it : but her heart's 
 most earnest human longing was after her 
 parents ; and He who knoweth our frame, and 
 well knew hers to be unequal to the burden and 
 heat of the dav, lovingly called her before it was 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 69 
 
 noon to share the rest of those weary ones. In 
 her sixteenth autumn she meekly received her 
 first communion, kneeling at our side in Nor- 
 minster Church. Her second and last was 
 administered a few weeks later to her by Mr. 
 Rayner on her death-bed. She had faded like 
 a leaf in the interval ; she was spared all acute 
 pain, distress, or fear in those last days. She 
 " knew she was going to Mamma, and she was 
 glad to go," she said, " and she hoped Gerald 
 and Fred would be good, and come too." Day 
 by day, her hopes and aspirations after a love 
 better than even mother's love kindled and 
 burned more clearly, and resting on it she 
 calmly passed away with her hands in ours, and 
 the Name that is above every name on her lips. 
 Dear child ! every remembrance connected with 
 her is pure and peaceful. "Fair, fair, with golden 
 hair, under the willow she's sleeping;" and near 
 her sleeps the mother to whom her faithful little 
 heart had clung to the last. 
 
 So that brick house with the grass-green 
 knocker is associated in my memory with much 
 of the poetry of life : indeed, the thoughtful 
 district visitor will meet with gleams and flashes 
 of poetical feeling everywhere, save where con- 
 
70 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap, 
 
 firmed, unblushing vice, like a mephitic gas, has 
 extinguished them. 
 
 Yonder tall, gaunt woman, who stands with 
 arms akimbo at her door in Crook Lane, could 
 thrill you through if she chose to speak, for she 
 is one of the few survivors from the well-remem- 
 bered troop-ship Birkenhead, lost near the Cape 
 with her freight of gallant soldiers. Once, 
 unasked, Betty opened to me on the subject ; 
 her homely words sketched powerfully the 
 seething sea, the helpless women and children 
 "shoving off" in boats, the parting cheer from 
 perishing husbands and fathers, her own Serjeant 
 
 B amongst them — silence after that, and the 
 
 noble fellows sinking, sinking, as still as a stone, 
 into the heart of the sea. Awful recollections 
 to brood upon ! but to Betty their sharpest sting 
 lies in this, that whereas she, like her husband, 
 had been a "decent body and good liver" then, 
 her life has been an evil one almost ever since ; 
 not, however, without sharp twinges of con- 
 science, which Mr. Rayner tries hard to turn to 
 good account. 
 
 Here we close our district "experiences," 
 fearing lest they should become, as Hotspur 
 says, "tedious as is a tired horse." Before pro- 
 
II.] OF A CITY. 71 
 
 ceeding to the kindred theme of sick-visiting in 
 the workhouse, let me say a word about our 
 "mothers' meeting/' Here Anne and I, whose 
 districts though side by side are wholly distinct, 
 have the comfort of working together. Here 
 we have the help of zealous friends, especially 
 Mrs. Meade, whose cheerful co-operation has, I 
 think, saved the undertaking from collapse. 
 Now, by dint of a long pull, and a strong pull, 
 and a pull altogether, it is, thank God, doing 
 well. The mothers flock in ; some of the roughest 
 and coarsest are visibly softened ; hundreds of 
 yards of flannel and calico have been paid for, 
 and made up on the spot into clothing for 
 themselves and their families ; several of their 
 big girls, whose idle, lounging habits used to 
 make us fear the worst for their future, have 
 been induced to go to service, and are doing well 
 in respectable situations. In fact, the mothers' 
 meeting seems to act as a magnet, and attracts 
 such of the women, both old and young, as 
 retain some desire to do right. The books 
 read to them, and the carefully selected hymns 
 which they join with us in singing, have cer- 
 tainly produced a purifying effect on some of 
 their minds. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Oh miracle, that thou shouldst 'scape unharm'd ! 
 Oh proof that angels watch thee, tender flower ! " 
 
 Isaac Williams. 
 
 " Consideration like an angel came 
 And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The proverb, "Extremes meet," is not the less 
 true for being trite. That the extreme of modern 
 civilization touches on barbarism, no one ac- 
 quainted with our crowded towns will deny. 
 But the proverb is nowhere more fully borne out 
 than in the day-rooms of our city workhouses. 
 Which are the most corrupt of the many corrupt 
 ingredients that ferment there, leavening more 
 or less the whole lump, however unremittingly 
 the authorities of the place may strive to repress 
 evil ? It is not the once hard-working but now 
 broken-down cottager, not the toiling man or 
 
ch. in.] STREETS AND LANES OF A CITY. 
 
 t D 
 
 woman that could never earn more than suf- 
 ficient to keep the wolf from the door, and now 
 justly claims parish help for his or her last days. 
 No ; the scum of its population will be found 
 to be inmates who have received a high-class 
 education, been put in the way at some time of 
 their life of realizing a good income, held advan- 
 tageous positions, perhaps in the middle rank of 
 society, fared daintily, clad themselves expen- 
 sively. These, when through self-indulgence 
 they have fallen (and self-indulgence, we know, 
 is the perilous incline down which myriads slide 
 into vice, fraud, or excess), fall low indeed. I 
 have seen such persons, when over and over 
 again rescued by some relative from their de- 
 graded position, and put in the way of retrieving 
 their character and circumstances, slip back in a 
 few weeks into the quagmire of vice, and return 
 to the workhouse, all manly or womanly feeling, 
 all self-respect gone ! I have seen such, been 
 called upon, as you shall presently hear, to mix 
 with them at trying times, and can conceive 
 nothing more repulsive, more base, than their 
 deep-grained selfishness, varnished over with an 
 affectation of superior breeding. These inmates 
 — not the rough, ignorant, but honest poor — are 
 
74 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 the plague-sore of our Unions, turn the title of 
 House of Industry into a satire ; make its roof 
 an upas-shade, deadly to the boys and girls 
 reared under it. " I would not," said a keen 
 observer, " insult a Red Indian by comparing 
 him with such as these ! " 
 
 One such " sinner, destroying much good," 
 came under my notice in connection with district 
 work, four years ago. Wylie was a man of some 
 attainment, capable of holding a clerkship, quick- 
 witted, and well-spoken. But he addicted himself 
 to vice, leaving his wife and four children to 
 starve or beg. It was as a sick-nurse that poor 
 Mrs. Wylie first came in my way ; I saw her 
 again, laid up with a fever she had caught in her 
 vocation, and which proved fatal. The children 
 had no home but the Union, their worthless 
 father being in jail for some fraudulent act. 
 They were pretty little creatures, but dwarfed 
 by lack of nourishment and warmth, so tv/o of 
 the little girls drooped and died early. The 
 only boy soon followed them, passing away, 
 however, not in the poor-house, but under the 
 roof of a former master, who with rare kindness 
 took him to his own home, cherished him till he 
 died, and laid him in his own burial-place. So, 
 
in.] OF A CITY. 75 
 
 of the whole family, only Wylie and little blue- 
 eyed Becky remained. I never failed to look 
 after Becky in my periodical visits to the Union 
 school ; but one day Becky was not to be seen, 
 and in answer to my inquiring looks, I suppose, 
 a dozen little paupers volunteered the informa- 
 tion that " her was gone ! her fay ther's toime 
 (in prison) wer hup, and he had coom black- 
 guarding, and taken Becky away." No one 
 could tell whither. "He had cut his stick, and 
 gone on the tramp with Becky, and an orgin, or 
 summut!" So Becky vanished from our horizon, 
 and, do what I would, no trace could I obtain of 
 her. The thought of this delicate child of five 
 dragged from place to place by her bad father, 
 ill-used, taught to beg and whine and tell lies, in 
 order to fill his pockets and minister to his vices, 
 haunted me, and, in my blindness, I often wished 
 her at rest in the pauper's grave with her mother 
 and little sisters. 
 
 I had strongly enjoined the children to let me 
 know should Becky be heard of, and one day, 
 eighteen months later, the desired tidings came. 
 Becky was " in town" with her father, quar- 
 tered at Lowe's lodging-house in Spitfire Yard, 
 off Green Street; they had turned up unex- 
 
76 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 pectedly the night before (Thursday), and Wylie 
 meant to be " off again Saturday." There was 
 no time to be lost ; so flinging my previous 
 programme of morning's work to the winds, 
 I bent my steps to Spitfire Yard, maturing 
 on the way a long-cherished plan for Becky's 
 rescue. 
 
 I found this lowest of our low haunts in a state 
 of uproar beyond even its wont. A dense mob 
 had closed round one of the dwellings, their 
 attraction being a drunken man, who was trying 
 to batter down his mother's door. The terrified 
 old woman, it seems, had locked herself in, and 
 her calls for help, mingled with his threats and 
 oaths, made a hideous din. I was thankful to 
 hear somebody say that somebody else had run 
 for the police, and presently a boy called out, 
 "Mind yourselves; here's the Bobbies a-coming!" 
 I meanwhile mounted a doorstep, and sheltered 
 in a large kitchen where two or three women 
 were bustling about. A man in a threadbare 
 coat of fine cloth, with a greasy velvet collar, 
 sat with his back to the door at a large table. 
 A capacious tin inkstand stood before him ; the 
 table and window-sill were covered with written 
 sheets of paper drying, and his pen was flying 
 
in.] OF A CITY. 77 
 
 glibly across another similar sheet. Glancing 
 over his shoulder, I saw at once that they were 
 copies of some sort of petition such as are 
 frequently left at the doors of the rich, and 
 extract large sums from the credulous, indo- 
 lent, uninvestigating portion of the charitable 
 public. " This must be Wylie," I thought, not 
 without trepidation, as my glance was met, and 
 then shunned, by a sidelong look from those 
 hard, cunning eyes. He noiselessly pushed 
 away his literary effusions into a corner, then 
 stood up and faced me, reeking with bad tobacco 
 and spirits. I felt that Becky's fate hung on 
 this colloquy, and tried, like the cupbearer of 
 Artaxerxes in his great strait, to dart a thought 
 upward to the " God of heaven," and commit 
 all to Him ; He, who is not willing that one 
 little one should perish, would perform the 
 cause that I had in hand. 
 
 The woman of the house was civil, and, in 
 reply to my inquiry, pointed out her lodger as 
 Wylie. I told him, that having been informed 
 of his flying visit to Norminster, I had come at 
 once to ask after the welfare of his little girl : 
 "Might I see the child?" 
 
 " Assuredly I might," he replied; she was 
 
78 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 playing about somewhere, he would step out and 
 fetch her. I watched him diving amongst the 
 rabble that still choked up Spitfire Yard ; Becky, 
 it seems, was there, enlarging her mind by 
 studying human nature in its worst aspect. 
 He soon returned with her. 
 
 Becky had been described at the workhouse 
 as so much out of health, that I was prepared to 
 see a pale, emaciated starveling, not the broad- 
 faced, cherry-cheeked little personage that now 
 came to my knee, smiling from ear to ear at 
 the sight of an old friend. Too hastily accepting 
 her plump, rosy looks as indications of strength, 
 I expressed satisfaction at the child's appearance, 
 to which the father replied with a sardonic smile, 
 " No wonder, ma'am, she looks well when I've 
 just been taking her a tour in the agricultural 
 districts." These were his very words — a nearer 
 inspection, however, changed my opinion, and 
 showed that poor little Becky was swollen and 
 almost dropsical ; the flush in her face was 
 unnatural, the soles of her feet were hard as 
 horn from tramping barefoot on the highways, 
 her blue eyes were heavy and bloodshot. 
 " Touring about in summer may be all very 
 well," I said, " but it is October now, and the 
 
ill.] OF A CITY. 79 
 
 early deaths of your other children should be 
 a warning to you to house this one before 
 winter. She is old enough to go to school, and 
 would it not be far better for her than this 
 vagrant life, where little good and much harm 
 may be picked up?" Of course Wylie had a 
 hundred excuses ready — his poverty, his inability 
 to give her a home or pay for her schooling. 
 I expected this, knowing him to be a desperate 
 character, hardened by dissipation, and in- 
 different to his child, except in as far as he 
 could make money by her ; but it seemed 
 right in the first instance to try persuasion, to 
 turn the heart of the father to the child if 
 possible, as much for his sake as for hers. 
 This endeavour failing, I had another arrow in 
 my quiver, more likely to hit the mark. There is 
 in Norminster an Industrial School — " Ragged" 
 would be too great a misnomer for it — admirable 
 in its order and in the parental kindness of its 
 master and matron towards the inmates. Here 
 the younger Fitzpatricks had been boarded for 
 many months, and thriven wonderfully both in 
 body and mind, and here I had already obtained 
 leave to board Becky (though below the regula- 
 tion age), should she turn up in our town and 
 
8o THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 need a shelter. If the wretched father could 
 only be induced to leave her there for the next 
 six months, it would be something gained ; 
 some seeds of good might be sown in the little 
 heart, some care taken of the little body. 
 
 So I laid the proposition before Wylie, and 
 when he found that it involved no sacrifice on 
 his part, he seemed to incline a favourable ear 
 to it. A hint which I was able to add, that 
 certain influential persons in the city had their 
 eye upon him, and that if " anything happened" 
 to Becky the consequences to himself might be 
 awkward, clenched the matter. " Becky should 
 go to this school," he said, " and the sooner the 
 better ; but he hoped I would consider the child's 
 feelings : she was as loving as a pet-lamb, and 
 would be dreadfully cut up at parting with him ; 
 he hoped he might visit her occasionally at this 
 school ? " 
 
 "As often as you please," I replied, well 
 knowing that the meeting of parent and child 
 was never objected to in that institution, under 
 due surveillance. "And now, Mr. Wylie, no 
 time like the present. I will call a cab and 
 take Becky to her future home at once, if you 
 please ; and you shall come too, and judge for 
 
in.] OF A CITY. 8 1 
 
 yourself whether it will not be a happy home 
 for yo-ur child. Be kind enough to pack her 
 things at once." 
 
 " Pack her things !" cried Wylie, with a grin ; 
 "why, bless you, she's nothing in the world but 
 what she stands in — pack her things, forsooth !" 
 and he laughed loud and chucked Becky under 
 the chin. Concealing my disgust as far as 
 might be, I led the way to the next cabstand, 
 and installed Becky on the seat opposite to me. 
 Wylie mounted the box ; I had managed to 
 warn the driver to look to his pockets while 
 sharing his seat with so questionable a fare. 
 Little Becky's ecstasies at the drive, the shops, 
 the novel position altogether, were quite en- 
 livening to witness ; but I remarked that the 
 few words she uttered were in a deep, hoarse, 
 unchildlike voice, which made me fear that her 
 chest was affected. We reached the School, 
 with its pleasant garden-plot in front, and were 
 greeted by the matron with that frank smile 
 which wins all hearts to her. I explained my 
 errand in few words, and noted her tender 
 greeting to the little stranger, and how Becky 
 clung to her and nestled by her side at once. 
 So the matter was settled ; Wylie presently 
 
 G 
 
82 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 took his leave with much affectation of re- 
 luctance to part with his child; it was painful 
 to see how she shrank in evident fear from his 
 embrace. I left the little one quite comfortable 
 with her new guardians, and walked blithely 
 home, filled with thankfulness for this unlooked- 
 for success. One drawback alone remained, 
 the fear lest Becky's father, missing her as a 
 source of gain, should return by and by and 
 take her away. This fear was shortly after done 
 away with, for Wylie was lodged in prison for 
 felony, and the magistrates at once added 
 Becky to the list of "certified" children, thus 
 securing her from being meddled with by her 
 worthless father. She is still at the School, 
 " under the protection of the Secretary of State," 
 and a promising, sweet-looking, and very good 
 child ; her health, long delicate, is mending ; her 
 warm heart and cheerful temper make her the 
 pet of all, and whatever trials may be in store 
 for her when the day comes that she must leave 
 this haven of peace, she is receiving such an 
 education as will fit her to bear and over- 
 come them. 
 
 Our tie with the workhouse hospital and 
 widows' room waxed closer year by year, as 
 
III. OF A CITY. 83 
 
 many of our district friends were draughted there. 
 Other denizens of Abbot's Street, young persons 
 perhaps of whom we had hoped better things, 
 cropped up from time to time in that hospital, 
 to our utter grief, with health and character 
 blighted. These needed all our care, and (the 
 staff of visitors under the chaplain being wofully 
 inadequate to the work to be done) we could 
 not exactly confine our feeble ministrations to 
 them, but tried to help as many as could be 
 attended to, calmly and thoroughly. The master 
 and matron, Mr. and Mrs. Lomax, were always 
 ready to give us the benefit of their experience, 
 and to back us in our efforts. So too, as long 
 as she remained in Norminster, was Grace 
 Oakley, the daughter of a deceased clergyman. 
 She lived near the union-house, and, renouncing 
 society, which she was singularly fitted to adorn, 
 worked steadily in this and other rugged fields 
 of duty. Even with her help and the Lomaxs' 
 one was often at a loss to judge correctly of the 
 characters and circumstances of the sick folk 
 congregated under that roof. Poor creatures ! 
 mostly strangers to us and to one another; some 
 of all creeds and some of none; some victims to 
 the profligacy of their so-called betters in the 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE STREETS AND LANES t [chap. 
 
 social scale, sad and bitter of heart; others blithe 
 and reckless of the morrow as little children. 
 We have seen a scoffer in one bed, in the next a 
 fervent, single-hearted Christian, "having nothing, 
 and yet possessing all things." We have been 
 plied by one aged widow with whispered peti- 
 tions for " a noggin," while in the opposite bed 
 lies another, in her ninety-sixth year, thirsting 
 for the Water of Life and for that alone. "Read 
 to me of His coming," she says ; " oh that it 
 might be this night ! " And another day : " I 
 have been dreaming all night of Him; He stood 
 in His brightness by a river side, and the river 
 sparkled like silver, and His saints and angels 
 were round Him; I could tell the saints by their 
 long flowing hair," &c. Dear old Widow Rose! 
 this dream was only the reflection of her waking 
 meditations ; no enthusiast she, but one who had 
 feared the Lord from her youth : " a reg'lar 
 church body," she playfully called herself, and 
 the assertion was verified by her intimate ac- 
 quaintance with collects, Liturgy, and Psalms in 
 the Prayer-book version. Begin where you 
 would in any of these, she was sure to know the 
 strain by heart, and murmur it after you. I never 
 in any rank met with such an instance of clear- 
 
in.] OF A CITY. 85 
 
 headed, warm-hearted piety at so great an age. 
 " She's a right-down good old woman," says the 
 nurse of her ward, " and so thoughtful for me ; 
 if she's in ever so much pain at night, she won't 
 let me be waked." And another of the widows 
 says, " I've known Mrs. Rose fifty year — a stir- 
 ring, striving body, and the goods she sold was 
 always good and always reasonable." 
 
 But I must not linger on this refreshing 
 theme, nor detain you amongst the widows in 
 their neat ward, the bed-ridden ones lying cosily 
 under crimson coverlets, the more able-bodied 
 sitting " croose and cocket," as their kind nurse 
 says, round a bright fire. Nor must we tarry 
 long in the old men's ward ; but we will say a 
 cheery word or two as we pass to well-meaning, 
 ignorant old Kit, who lies there blind and para- 
 lysed, and " glad of a word frae ony decent 
 body." Ask how he is, and he will tell you he 
 "feels verra dillicat; he don't look to be better, 
 nor better off i' this world, but he do hope 
 there'll be a nice corner keepit for him up there!' 
 Just glance at that half-wit who sits in the 
 elbow-chair by the fire ; he looks, and is, a rustic, 
 born and bred not far from Radnor. He is an 
 odd compound of shrewdness and simplicity: the 
 
86 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 former quality predominated in a memorable 
 reply he made when reproached some years ago 
 for not shedding a tear at his only sister's funeral : 
 " Hur is i' heaven, and I've no handkercher ! " 
 
 Let us pass on to the men's accident ward. 
 There is an individual there whose mysterious 
 case illustrates life in the streets and lanes of 
 our cities, so we will pause by his bedside. In 
 order to reach it we must pass through that 
 courtyard where scores of pigeons are disporting 
 themselves round the pump-trough, or rising to 
 the wing at our footfall. Those pigeons are as 
 dear to me as the " iridescent" doves of St. 
 Mark were to the writer of the " Stones of 
 Venice." As they peck contentedly the crumbs 
 thrown to them in this abode of penury, then 
 rise in graceful circles above its roof, above all 
 the sadness and squalor, into the summer air, 
 they seem to read me a parable. They are 
 types of many a happy soul that has accepted 
 its lot within these walls with patient acquies- 
 cence, and in due time winged its flight to the 
 abodes of perennial sunshine and rest. 
 
 Look at that narrow couch in a corner of the 
 accident ward. It is empty now, but for seven 
 months a young fellow, whom we will call 
 
Hi.] OF A CITY. 87 
 
 Leonard, lay stretched upon it in such extremity 
 of pain that our workhouse doctor, " albeit un- 
 used to the melting mood/' could at times 
 scarcely bear to look upon him. Leonard was a 
 Londoner, a stranger in our northern latitudes 
 till one autumn morning in 186—. A labourer 
 going to his work in the twilight heard groans 
 proceeding from a spot at the foot of a steep 
 cliff that overhangs our tidal stream. There he 
 found a tall, slight lad lying in helpless agony, 
 having fallen over the cliff. Help was procured, 
 and he was carried to the Norminster Hospital ; 
 meanwhile, on examining the ground where 
 Leonard had lain, it was found strewed with 
 housebreaking tackle, not of the most artistic 
 make, but such, as clearly to show the poor lad's 
 present occupation. It was supposed at first 
 that he had intended to break into a lonely 
 dwelling that stands upon the rock, but this was 
 not the case ; he seems to have attempted a 
 house in the outskirts of Norminster, and finding 
 himself in danger of detection, to have fled 
 across country, rushed through a fringe of 
 bushes, breaking boughs and twigs as he went, 
 and fallen headlong five-and-twenty feet at least. 
 Conceive what he must have felt on waking 
 
88 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 from the swoon which followed this plunge, and 
 finding himself alone in the dark, sure of detec- 
 tion, writhing and helpless, with the conviction 
 that the young life and wild activity within him 
 w r ere quenched for ever; and all this without one 
 glimmer of faith or hope to make it endurable, 
 one inkling of the guiding Hand that even 
 then had not forsaken him. No wonder that his 
 goings on the two months he remained in the 
 hospital were more like those of a hurt and cap- 
 tured wild animal than of a rational being. He 
 returned only evasive or insolent answers when 
 an official inquiry was instituted into his doings 
 that night. He met the patience and indulgence 
 of matron and doctors with scanty thanks, and 
 to Mr. Rayner, who in the absence of the usual 
 ministrations tried to work upon him, Leonard 
 seemed truly " the deaf adder that stoppeth her 
 ears." A couple of very " fast "-looking young 
 men came down from town to see him one day, 
 bringing him " lots of tin," and the ward was 
 more astonished than edified by the three talk- 
 ing and joking together in a "lingo" unintel- 
 ligible to every one but themselves. When they 
 were gone, Leonard sank back in sullen despair, 
 glaring at the visitors who from curiosity, I 
 
in.] OF A CITY. 89 
 
 fear, lingered near his bedside. How he writhed 
 under their inspection no one guessed at the 
 time, but I remember his telling me in the work- 
 house that " strangers used to come and stare at 
 him as if he was a villain ; and though he was 
 bad enough, he wasn't that!" Poor boy, his 
 notions of* right and wrong were hazy indeed ! 
 He was so young, so full of vitality, that he 
 lingered much longer than the doctors had 
 thought possible, and so after many weeks he 
 was moved to the workhouse. In looking up a 
 pauper from Crook Lane one day, I found 
 Leonard laid on that narrow couch in the 
 corner. Narrow though it was, it. was wide 
 enough for him, for, the spine being paralysed, 
 he could not have the relief sufferers so dearly 
 prize, of tossing and turning about. Oh, the 
 bloodless hue of that young face, girlishly fair 
 as it was, with soft brown hair and eyes of the 
 colour of the speedwell in June. I hesitated 
 whether to accost him or not, for we were com- 
 plete strangers to one another. A friend whose 
 advice is law to us had recommended our not 
 going near him in the hospital ; the lad was too 
 " cocky " already, got more notice and spoiling 
 than was good for him; it was truer kindness to 
 
90 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 keep aloof. Here the case was far different, as 
 the nurse (a hard, bad woman, sent away in dis- 
 grace afterwards) remarked, " There would be no 
 great ladies, nor grapes, nor tit-bits for him here." 
 So seeing his large eyes following me wistfully, 
 I paused to inquire how he was — I feared in 
 much pain. 
 
 " I'm all pain," he replied, with that hopeless 
 look that often since has cut me to the heart ; 
 " and I'm so lonely ! " A pause ensued. 
 
 " Then would it be a comfort to you if I were 
 to come from time to time and visit you ? " I 
 suggested. 
 
 " It would." 
 
 " And when you axe tolerably easy, we will 
 have some reading ? " 
 
 He nodded assent, shaking back the damp 
 hair from his forehead ; and so the intercourse 
 began, which for seven months gave me food 
 for thought and deep anxiety. It was a trying, 
 fitful kind of intercourse, At times he grew 
 quite confidential, and told enough of his 
 history to show that he had had a wild, 
 godless, reckless bringing up. His mother (we 
 have since ascertained) was an habitual drunkard; 
 his father-, and at least one brother, belonged to 
 
in.] OF A CITY. 91 
 
 a London gang of burglars. They lived in great 
 luxury usually; salmon at $s. the pound, and the 
 earliest vegetables from Covent Garden, were no 
 uncommon delicacies with them. Leonard had 
 often had " as much as ^30 in his pocket :" how 
 obtained did not transpire. He had picked up 
 a fair amount of education, and read a good deal, 
 mostly in the Jack Sheppard and comedy line ; 
 but he was not devoid altogether of better know- 
 ledge, had parts of the " Pilgrim's Progress " at 
 his fingers' ends, and alluded sorrowfully to a 
 time when he had been fond of attending the 
 London " churches and chapels." From a child 
 he had been brought up to live on excitement : 
 for that far more than for gain he had thrown 
 himself into betting, gambling, and racing ; for 
 that, I verily believe, he had tried, his 'prentice 
 hand at housebreaking, for he clearly did not 
 care for money for its own sake. Whenever 
 mysterious remittances dropped in to him by 
 post, he sowed his largesses broadcast among 
 the paupers, so he was rather a favourite with 
 them, in spite of his imperious temper, aggra- 
 vated and stung by pain. An intense contempt 
 for meanness was one feature of this strange, 
 contradictory lad, and he could hardly tolerate 
 
92 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 the presence of Nurse Hobbs, the woman alluded 
 to before, who certainly was a revolting mixture 
 of cheating and cant. Now as to our readings, 
 it was harder than you can conceive to fix the 
 attention of one so blase, so utterly "used 
 up." The chaplain did all for him (and the 
 other sick) that the claims of a curacy and of 
 pupils would admit of; and sometimes Leonard 
 listened and begged him to go on, but as often 
 he pettishly shut his eyes, and said he couldn't 
 bear to be spoken to, it went through his head ; 
 and then no wonder the chaplain was dis- 
 heartened. More than once he dismissed me 
 and my book on that plea. And who that 
 looked at his ghastly colouring, and the dark 
 lines under his eyes, could consider it altogether 
 a frivolous and vexatious one ? 
 
 I found such readings as the " Rocky Island," 
 Monro's " Dark River," or " Anecdotes of Chris- 
 tian Martyrs," most effective at first in rousing 
 Leonard's attention. He was not blind to the 
 beauty of " Golden Deeds," — nay, at times grew 
 boyishly eager in listening to such narratives. 
 By these steps we gradually mounted to the 
 point whence we could contemplate the King of 
 Martyrs Himself, His atoning death, His life of 
 
in.] OF A CITY. 93 
 
 divine holiness, mercy, and purity. Not seldom, 
 some word of His would rivet Leonard for the 
 moment; and an earnest Amen would testify how 
 heartily he appropriated the suffrage petitions 
 from the Litany, with a few of which our read- 
 ings generally closed. These were his happiest 
 moods ; more often there was blank listlessness, 
 or a disposition to chat about the merest trifles, 
 or to discuss at great length his own symptoms 
 or the preparing of his food. This last was a 
 fertile topic, kind Mrs. Lomax winking at certain 
 small cookeries that went on at Leonard's own 
 expense, under his own eye ; so I often had to 
 bide my time, and work my way to the one 
 matter of vital importance through a disquisi- 
 tion on fish-sauce, or the best way of stewing a 
 beefsteak. 
 
 There was a buoyancy about Leonard that 
 seldom let him realize his dying state ; the love 
 of life was strong within, and when at times 
 the conviction that it was ebbing burst upon 
 him, I have seen him fling the sheet over his 
 head and weep long and bitterly. At other 
 times he was wilder in his mood, like a bird in 
 the snare of the fowler, fluttering and dashing 
 itself in vain. I think, however, his spirits grew 
 
94 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 more equable, and his mind less utterly afloat as 
 time wore on. 
 
 One day he pulled a letter from under his 
 pillow, and begged me to read it. It was from 
 his only sister, and his face lighted up as he 
 talked about her. Agatha had married at 
 sixteen, after rejecting, by her brother's account, 
 as many suitors as Penelope. She was barely 
 twenty now, but had lost her only child, and was 
 heart-broken in consequence. Her husband 
 worshipped the ground she trod upon, but he 
 was little at home (Mr. Lomax thinks he is an 
 adventurer devoted to the turf), so she led a 
 lonely life, and brooded over the loss of her 
 little boy. " She's a very pretty young lady," 
 Leonard said in his quaint parlance, -'and as 
 good as she's pretty, and many a bow and smile 
 I've seen her get as she has walked through 
 Bishopsgate with me." 
 
 The genuine brotherly feeling made up for 
 the pomposity of these details, and I read 
 Aggie's letter with interest. It was indited in a 
 flowing hand, its spelling and grammar perfect, 
 its contents artless and sad. She was longing 
 to see her dear, dear Leonard ; she had sent him 
 a money order, all she had ; she was so glad he 
 
in.] OF A CITY. 95 
 
 had a friend to read to him, and she begged 
 him to return to his Father in heaven at once, 
 for she was sadly afraid his time must be short 
 in this world ; she hoped soon to see him, her 
 husband having faithfully promised to bring her 
 to Norminster ; they would take a lodging near, 
 and she would sit with him every day. 
 
 Some weeks later I unexpectedly found 
 Leonard not alone. A coarse-looking, expen- 
 sively-dressed, middle-aged woman sat by him, 
 whom he named to me as his mother, and a 
 small, child-like figure in mourning was bending 
 over his pillow. This was Aggie ; you could 
 have told them to be brother and sister by the 
 great likeness, only her face was rounder and 
 less blanched. She said little, the mother taking 
 all the talk upon herself, but there was a world 
 of expression in those sad eyes, and they swam 
 in tears as she timidly pressed my hand. 
 Leonard lay looking at his sister wistfully, but 
 placidly. He pressed me to remain with them, 
 but I soon took leave, first entreating the mother 
 and sister, in his hearing, not to distract but 
 rather to help him in his preparations for the 
 solemn change that awaited him. The mother 
 replied in a proper and feeling manner ; Aggie's 
 
96 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 soft eyes expressed her acquiescence, and so I 
 left them to themselves. The next evening I 
 believe they returned to town, but the pure 
 sisterly influence had not been used in vain, and 
 Leonard was visibly calmer and more thoughtful 
 afterwards. I am not saying that he was a 
 model penitent — far from it. Would that he had 
 been such ! There was irritability to the last. 
 Seldom did he express the sorrow for past sin, 
 or the aspirations after holiness, which yet, I 
 trust, were no strangers to his breast. One had 
 to take comfort from his earnest entreaties for 
 the 51st Psalm, or the Litany ejaculations, or the 
 Story of the Prodigal. One was thankful to 
 learn from good Mr. Lomax that his talk, though 
 often trifling, was never vicious or corrupting. 
 I gladly treasure up his dying assurance that he 
 bore ill-will to none, not even to Nurse Hobbs, 
 who had taken his few remaining shillings from 
 under his pillow. These straws I would fain 
 hope indicated that the current of his thoughts 
 was running in a right direction. He had no 
 tinge of presumptuous security about him. " I 
 am praying, oh so hard!" were his last in- 
 telligible words that bright day in May on 
 which he died. 
 
iil] OF A CITY. 97 
 
 With characteristic eagerness, he had sent a 
 second messenger after the first to hunt me up 
 in Crook Lane, and say the end was near. In 
 unconsciously Shakespearian phrase the mes- 
 senger said, " Leonard was sinking — sure to go 
 at the turn of tide ; " and so he did. I found 
 him perfectly conscious, longing to be " prayed 
 with." In the unavoidable absence of the 
 chaplain I recited passages from the Psalms, 
 and brief suffrages from the Prayer-book, at 
 intervals, and he joined heartily ; only once a 
 troubled look came over his face, as Nurse 
 Hobbs planted herself in front of him, and he 
 said sternly to her, " Leave me." She left the 
 room, quite cowed for the moment, and did not 
 reappear till all was over. " Leonard," I whis- 
 pered anxiously, " you quite forgive ? " " Quite," 
 he answered, carrying my hand caressingly to 
 his icy lips, and keeping it there while the 
 breath came more and more slowly and fit- 
 fully ; H go on, please." Oh, the look of anxiety 
 on that young brow! He spoke no more, 
 except those few precious words that I have 
 mentioned, about " praying, oh so hard ! " The 
 tide was now ebbing fast, and so was the life, 
 and by six o'clock all was still. The workhouse 
 
 H 
 
98 STREE TS AND LANES OF A CITY. [ch. in. 
 
 inmates, usually callous to such events, were, 
 I scarcely know why, deeply stirred by sym- 
 pathy, or curiosity, or both ; groups of them 
 hung about the courtyard, eyeing his window 
 in shuddering silence. The cooing of the many 
 pigeons sounded like a lament, as I wended my 
 way home. 
 
 Poor boy ! poor Leonard ! That headlong fall 
 over the cliff was surely ordered in " kind 
 austereness " to save him from inevitable vice, 
 perhaps crime. " There is mercy in every lot : " 
 there was mercy in his, though so deeply 
 mournful when looked at in the light of this 
 present world only : — 
 
 "Fear startled at his pains and dreary end, 
 Hope raised her chalice high, 
 And the twin sisters still his shade attend." 
 
 He was buried handsomely, as we say here, 
 his brothers sending a liberal remittance to 
 Mr. Lomax for the purpose. None of his 
 kith or kin were present, nor have they been 
 heard of in Norminster since. I obtained 
 Agatha's address, and wrote to her after the 
 funeral, but my letter was never acknowledged, 
 possibly never received. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "Not sick, although I have to do with death." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 THERE lies on one side of Norminster Hospital 
 a pleasant open space of two or three acres ; 
 it is bordered on the west by a double row of 
 elms, through which the autumn sun often glints 
 red and round at its setting. Beyond these 
 trees stands a picturesque, broken-down tower 
 of the fourteenth century, wreathed in ivy. 
 This enclosure has been called the Plague-field 
 ever since the year 1615, or thereabouts, when 
 Norminster was desolated by a terrible pesti- 
 lence. In the old records of the town may still 
 be seen payments made on behalf of " the poor 
 cabiners," that is, the plague-stricken inhabitants 
 who were moved from their homes to huts built 
 here on the "lazzaretto" principle for their 
 
 11 2 
 
ioo THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 reception. Within a stone's throw of them a 
 large pit was dug for the hasty interment of 
 the plague's many victims. After the epidemic 
 had cleared away this trench was bricked over, 
 and neither it nor any part of the field has ever 
 since been built upon. We have often looked 
 out by moonlight on the Plague-field with 
 solemn thoughts of the high and low, rich and 
 poor, one with another, whose dust is mingling 
 there. 
 
 The visitation of sickness I am about to 
 speak of, compared with that former one, is 
 what good Bishop Hall would have called "a 
 mere flea-biting ;" yet it too has its u sadness 
 and its story." 
 
 The last time that cholera visited England 
 the Norminster guardians resolved to prepare 
 for its approach betimes. There being no spare 
 room in our old crowded workhouse, they ob- 
 tained from the kindness of Lord Kendal, the 
 " Marquis de Carabas" of our county, the loan 
 of an old farmhouse as cholera hospital. It 
 stood by itself, enclosed by a wall and pro- 
 tected by strong gates, in a field overhanging 
 our tidal stream. A straggling row of low-class 
 dwellings skirted one side of the field, a crowded 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 101 
 
 churchyard bounded the other ; it was disused, 
 and a crumbling arch or two of an old chantry 
 gave it a solemn interest On the opposite 
 side of the stream, some hundred yards from 
 the extemporized hospital, rose a high rocky 
 bank, crowned with handsome suburban resi- 
 dences of some of our magnates. Here due 
 preparation was made in the summer of '66 
 for the expected scourge, or rather for such of 
 our paupers as it might attack. The building, 
 which Lord Kendal was intending shortly to 
 pull down, was repaired, whitewashed, fitted up, 
 and supplied liberally with medicines. The 
 nurses — " ay, there's the rub" — the nurses were 
 to be denizens of the workhouse, picked out 
 as more able-bodied and quick-witted than the 
 rest, but untrained and unprincipled. I say 
 this advisedly, for when Anne and I compared 
 notes with Grace Oakley touching this matter, 
 we found that each of these soi-disant nurses 
 was individually known to us as persons of 
 more than doubtful honesty and sobriety. 
 Conceive what it would be to trust such with 
 stores and stimulants, and with the precious, 
 endangered lives of parents and children, hus- 
 bands and wives — at a time of general panic too, 
 
102 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 for deep was the alarm with which Norminster 
 awaited the coming epidemic. It could not be 
 thought of; Grace, bright and determined, had, 
 we found, already offered her services a's nurse, 
 to the guardians, and been joyfully accepted. 
 With my mother's permission I followed her 
 lead, and met with a cordial response also from 
 the parish authorities. 
 
 Still the cholera came not ; sultry summer 
 had come and gone, and still it menaced from 
 afar, like a thunder-cloud on the horizon. Not 
 till late in September did a lightning flash issue 
 from that cloud, and strike down one of the 
 wealthiest and busiest of our fellow-citizens ; 
 next a woman died in Spitfire Yard, and two 
 more within a day or two, and a conviction 
 crept over the hearts of all — "the plague is 
 begun." 
 
 Two days later a pencil note from Grace 
 apprised me that our work had begun also. 
 " Cholera Hospital, nine o'clock A.M. — Just 
 arrived : three patients brought in : come at 
 once." Without tarrying to confer with anyone, 
 I set out, taking the first cab on the way. The 
 streets were soon left behind, and the disused 
 churchyard with its ruins, and we drove heavily 
 
JV.] OF A CITY. 103 
 
 along a cart-track deep in mud from several 
 days' rain. I alighted at the outer gate of the 
 farm, crossed a yard surrounded by farm build- 
 ings, now empty, and entered the kitchen. The 
 house, the whole locality in fact, was quite new 
 to me. " Nurse Nanny," from the Union, was 
 busy there over a caldron ; and as with out- 
 stretched iron ladle she pointed me to an inner 
 room, she might have personated one of Mac- 
 beth's witches. The sight of Grace's fair, serene 
 face was cheering, and together we entered the 
 " cholera ward." No gloomy spectacle met my 
 eye ; four whitewashed walls, alive with black 
 beetles, a table, a stove, some chairs and six 
 little white beds made up the coup d\vil. Three 
 of the beds were occupied, and on approaching 
 them I saw three curly, sandy little heads pla- 
 cidly reposing on their pillows ; three freckled, 
 childish faces, the image one of the other, 
 looking comfortably drowsy from the soothing 
 medicines that had been administered. It was 
 a brother and two young sisters who had all 
 been stricken down together in a house, the 
 cellar of which stood several feet high in water. 
 They were dear, good children, most easy to 
 nurse, and their symptoms, though undoubtedly 
 
104 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 Asiatic, were not virulent. They all got well 
 and went home in a month, but the boy, Willy, 
 volunteered after that to come to us every 
 Saturday (his holiday) ; and manfully did he 
 work, sweeping out our courtyard, or chopping 
 up our wood. 
 
 When evening came, Grace announced her 
 intention of sitting up this first night, and 
 proposed that I should " go home and sleep 
 soundly," so as to be able to relieve her the 
 following night ; by thus taking turns we should 
 husband our strength for the campaign, whether 
 long or short. So reasonable a proposition 
 could not be gainsaid, and home I went, after 
 changing my clothes, and washing face and 
 hands. I was to relieve Grace at seven in the 
 morning. 
 
 Raindrops lay heavy on the rank grass, as 
 I crossed the field at the appointed matin hour. 
 No one was about, so I proceeded to the ward, 
 and saw with satisfaction that the three freckled 
 little faces turned towards me had improved in 
 colouring. But what was Grace about ? I saw 
 her standing at the foot of the furthest bed of 
 all, watching intently. Hearing my step, she 
 came up to me, her face white but composed, 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 105 
 
 and said, taking my hand, "Amy, is this collapse 
 or death ? " We stood by the bedside now. 
 " Death," I answered, after a pause ; death, un- 
 mistakably manifested by that marvellous steely 
 hue peculiar to cholera, which had never met 
 our eyes before, and which seemed to darken 
 and assume a more metallic blue as we looked. 
 The story was soon told ; Mary Howard was a 
 young married woman (the husband, a vaurien) y 
 and lived next door to the little red-heads. She 
 had been brought in at three, already in collapse, 
 from which neither hot applications nor stimulant 
 could rouse her. Thus had my dear colleague 
 met the first fatal onslaught alone. From that 
 moment there was no going home any more ; 
 the plot thickened, and " cases" came in, some- 
 times singly and at intervals, oftener in groups 
 of three or four, for ten weeks. Some of the 
 latest cases were as virulent as the earliest had 
 been ; and the disease vanished quite suddenly 
 and completely at last. Now I am not going to 
 harass you with a detailed account of the doings 
 of those momentous ten weeks ; it would be 
 useless to harrow up your feelings, or 
 
 " Give you, in recitals of disease, 
 A doctor's trouble but without the fees." 
 
io6 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 A few dissolving views of our cholera \\ T ards 
 are all I wish to bring before you, selected with 
 an eye to our main subject, the " streets and 
 lanes of our city," and the best manner in 
 which a woman can, without permanently re- 
 nouncing her home ties and duties, try to do 
 some lowly but real work amongst them. 
 
 A large low chamber at the other end of the 
 farm, not available for hospital purposes, was 
 appropriated as a bedroom by Grace and me. 
 A faithful servant looked after her creature- 
 comforts. Anne undertook the commissariat 
 department for me, and daily hovered like a 
 good genius round our walls, bringing home- 
 letters and cheering messages, and lovely 
 bunches of roses from a kind nursery gardener, 
 who said " they might perhaps cheer the 
 ladies." Above all, she brought good reports 
 of our mother, who continued well and peaceful 
 in her and H 's companionship. 
 
 We were fortunate in Mr. Lomax's steady 
 support and help, and in that of our Union 
 doctor, who had sole charge of the little 
 hospital. He visited us morning and evening, 
 often quite knocked up by his outdoor work, 
 for cholera was rife in the close alleys, and 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 107 
 
 many patients obstinately refused to be con- 
 veyed to the hospital, averring that they would 
 be poisoned or buried alive there. Of course 
 it was a grave responsibility, being left to our 
 own guidance so many hours, but we had 
 complete instructions given us, and a variety of 
 medicines and all appliances and means to boot, 
 so there was nothing for it but to act for the 
 best. We kept the women employed in kitchen 
 work for the sick, in washing clothes and sheets, 
 in scouring with disinfectants; but the nursing 
 by day and night, the administering of medicines, 
 brandy, or food, we took upon ourselves ; only 
 vve made them help with the friction, which the 
 poor agonized creatures seemed to find relief in, 
 and which some of them could scarcely bear 
 suspended for a moment. 
 
 Our most stringent rule was, never to be 
 absent from the patients at the same time ; 
 sometimes the services of both were needed 
 through the night, but in general at ten 
 o'clock punctually one of us went to bed 
 till daybreak, unless roused sooner by the 
 knocking at our outer gate which preceded 
 the arrival of the stretcher. It was hard, very 
 hard sometimes, to tear oneself away from some 
 
10S THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 poor sufferer at the crisis of the attack, but at 
 such times feeling must not be indulged at the 
 expense of common sense. Indeed I used to 
 think that I was turning to stone; for after 
 the refreshments of hot bath and brief 
 devotional reading, I used to lie down and 
 instantaneously fall asleep, regardless of the 
 tragedy enacting downstairs, regardless too of 
 the hosts of insect assailants brought in by 
 the poor creatures from their low haunts, 
 which under other circumstances would have 
 " murdered " sleep. That curious instinct which 
 nurses acquire of waking at a previously speci- 
 fied moment never failed either of us. More 
 than once, indeed, Grace or I jumped up, pre- 
 maturely startled into consciousness by a red 
 blaze shooting into the dark sky before our 
 window. The women were burning a straw 
 bed, its occupant having died ; this was done, 
 as often as possible, before daybreak, to elude 
 the notice of the townspeople, whose nerves 
 were naturally shaken by these funereal fires. 
 
 1 A friend of ours, who lived on the opposite side of the 
 stream, and was often startled by these fires, confided her alarms 
 to a sensible old aunt. This good lady's reply is well worth 
 recording : " Eat plenty of mutton chops, my dear, and read the 
 91st Psalm every day." 
 
iv.] OF A CIT\. 109 
 
 Thus we learnt that another dear soul had 
 passed away since we left the ward, but many 
 hours might elapse before our colleague had 
 leisure to give, or we to ask, the mournful 
 details. 
 
 Acceptable gifts of clothing, wine, and brandy 
 were sent by the kind townsfolk as soon as they 
 knew that we were installed. The shirts and 
 shifts were invaluable, for not a few patients 
 were brought in in a revolting state, after 
 lying twenty-four hours or more ill and un- 
 tended. I possess still the huge scissors which 
 Anne brought to facilitate the operation of 
 shearing away these loathsome " Dejaniran " 
 garments. They were flung into the court 
 and set fire to at once, for in them, if any- 
 where, infection resided. 
 
 After the first day or two our hands were full ; 
 scarcely had we laid poor young Mary Howard 
 in the rude mortuary chamber, clasped those 
 fingers that would not stiffen, and braided her 
 splendid masses of black hair into a natural 
 crown, than her two little boys were brought in. 
 Three other patients from the same locality 
 were installed before night. Either confirmed 
 drunkenness or bad drainage accounted for all 
 
no THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 these cases. Little Tommy Howard struggled 
 through cholera, but sank under the secondary- 
 fever. We made him up a snug bed on the 
 floor; but ten times a day he would stretch 
 out his arms and cry, " Grandmother, grand- 
 mother, coom and tak' me, and carry me round 
 the toon ! " Then I used to pick up the little 
 creature in his blanket, and pace slowly through 
 wards and kitchen with his heavy head on 
 my shoulder; and Tommy seemed quite satis- 
 fled, and would doze off in the belief that the 
 kitchen was Norminster and I was his grand- 
 mother. 
 
 As the plot thickened, we found it necessary 
 to draught our few convalescents to a room up- 
 stairs. It was spacious, and open to the roof- 
 timbers, and commanded a pleasant view. With 
 texts on the walls, and plenty of books and 
 pictures about, and a heavy curtain hung up 
 to screen off the air from the staircase, it 
 looked quite habitable. Our only trouble was 
 that its inmates sorely needed watching and 
 food for their bodies and minds, and a con- 
 trolling eye over the young, and reading and 
 loving persuasion for the elder ones ; and who 
 was to do all this ? We could not attempt it ; 
 
IV.] OF A CITY. in 
 
 and the almost daily visits of our parochial 
 clergy, though invaluable, were necessarily 
 brief. At this juncture a note was brought 
 which gladdened our hearts greatly. It was 
 from a lady, a kindly and unwearied worker 
 amongst the poor at her end of Norminster, 
 offering heartily to come to us at once for 
 " day-work." In a few hours Marianne Bar- 
 nard was "one of us," inaugurated as "mon- 
 arch of all she surveyed " in the convalescent 
 ward, and a centre of order and cheerfulness 
 there. She afterwards took an active part in 
 the night nursing, devoting herself to it till 
 the end, with one interval of illness from over- 
 fatigue and strain of mind, and one of arduous 
 cholera nursing in another place. 
 
 It was hard to lose three patients in twelve 
 hours, as befell us one early day. Later on we 
 had the grief of seeing five sink between sunrise 
 and sunset. It was evident in most of these 
 cases that their doom was sealed before they 
 were borne through our gates. More like a 
 nightmare than a reality comes back to me 
 an incident that closely followed these two 
 groups of deaths. They had left our numbers 
 thin, and not a single anxious case on hand, so 
 
U2 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 (Mrs. Lomax having sent a better class kind of 
 woman to sleep in the convalescent ward) Grace 
 and I for the first time both went to rest. I 
 lay down partially undressed, and was instantly 
 asleep : soon after midnight, however, the gate 
 was loudly knocked at. We ran down without 
 delay, and admitted the cortege ; it was no 
 pauper, but a very well-dressed figure that 
 was lifted from the stretcher ; she " belonged 
 to bettermost people," the Inspector said, and 
 her clothing and gold ear-pendants testified to 
 the fact ; but her belongings had been seized 
 with such abject terror at the sight of her 
 attack, that none of them would go near her. 
 The case being reported to the Inspector, he 
 had paid a domiciliary visit to the house, and 
 amid the cries and waitings of the family (not 
 one of whom could be induced to lend a helping 
 hand) he had escorted her here at once. Though 
 spent and speechless, she was conscious, and 
 seemed soothed by hot appliances and en- 
 couraging words ; with touching patience she 
 tried to swallow the prescribed medicines ; yet 
 more readily did she drink in the versicles from 
 Psalms and Litany we recited in her moments 
 of respite, turning her hollow eyes in the 
 
iv;] OF A CITY. 113 
 
 direction of the speaker, as though craving for 
 more. This went on for half an hour, and then 
 brief, sudden collapse, and then rest. Within an 
 hour of that first " forceful knocking " at our 
 gate the ward was once more dark, still, and 
 empty. Before the funeral, which took place 
 next evening, a deputation of her " friends " 
 came and begged to speak with Grace at the 
 gate. The object of their mission was to claim 
 the poor thing's earrings, which no one had 
 thought of taking out. Grace at once repaired 
 to the mortuary chamber, unclasped and brought 
 them ; a piece of complaisance the petitioners 
 scarcely deserved. 
 
 There were several of these rapid cases. 
 Others lingered long. We have peaceful re- 
 collections of an elderly woman, rough but 
 kindly, who bore her protracted suffering very 
 patiently and humbly, and seemed less con- 
 cerned for herself than for her " old man," 
 the partner she had " made her moan to these 
 forty year." He used to sit by her for hours, 
 stroking and patting her hand, while " tears 
 ran clown his cheeks like winter drops from 
 eaves." Only when, at her desire, the Curate of 
 St. Magnus came to administer the most com- 
 
 I 
 
114 THE STREETS AND LANES [cHAr. 
 
 fortable Sacrament to her, the old man shook 
 his head, and walked sadly away. A large por- 
 tion of " cases " came out of that parish of 
 St. Magnus, part of which lies very low. Its 
 clergy, together with Mr. Helps and several 
 more, proved themselves true " sons of comfort " 
 through this visitation. The Bishop of the 
 diocese, too, came to pray by our sick, leaving 
 them and us with the blessing of peace warm at 
 our hearts. 
 
 The Roman Catholic priests visited their flock 
 assiduously: wherefore I know not, but so it 
 was, that no denominational teacher appeared 
 in the hospital at all. 
 
 We were all very fond of fatherless Johnnie, 
 whose mother had deserted him, and gone to 
 America. He was a gentle boy, and a favourite 
 in the workhouse where he had been reared, and 
 Mr. Lomax was so kind to him ! He had pulled 
 through the cholera stage of illness, and seemed to 
 be getting well. I remember seeing a group of his 
 workhouse friends clustering outside the window 
 to catch a glimpse of him sitting up in bed 
 breakfasting, and to ask how he did ; and then 
 came his cheery answer, " First-rate," and then 
 a buzz of jubilant young voices exclaiming, 
 
IV.] OF A CITY. 115 
 
 " Our Johnnie's getting on rattlin', all afore 
 him ! he's a-polishin' off the loaf like a lord, 
 he is." But the secondary fever carried him off, 
 notwithstanding Marianne's tender, assiduous 
 care. Before his brain finally clouded over, he 
 asked to be read to. Part of Revelations xxi. 
 was selected, and he listened, and then asked 
 simply and calmly : " Do you think the Lord is 
 going to take me to the New Jerusalem?" In 
 his delirium he called piteously for his mother ; 
 he died the fifth day, and was buried the follow- 
 ing afternoon, kind Mr. Lomax following the 
 coffin, which was strewn with white roses. 
 
 Two brothers of six- and eight-and-twenty 
 were brought in together, and lay for three days 
 very ill of acute cholera. Levi and Jabez Bland 
 were tall, stalwart young men, civilized in manner, 
 and apparently accustomed to all the comforts 
 of life. But an extraordinary gloom hung over 
 both, and especially over poor Levi, who was by 
 far the more intelligent and interesting of the 
 two. We knew nothing of their antecedents, 
 but could not help gleaning from the talk 
 amongst the women that their circumstances at 
 home bad been deplorable. Their mother had 
 some months before destroyed herself owing to 
 
 I 2 
 
Ii6 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 domestic broils, and the sons had taken her part 
 and quarrelled with their father. This accounted 
 for the pair maintaining a resolute and defiant 
 silence when old Mr. Bland came to inquire 
 after them the third day. It was one of those 
 miserable revelations which make one wonder 
 how the discordant elements of society hold 
 together at all. The old gentleman came clad 
 in deep mourning ; he stayed half an hour, and 
 held forth to us and to his half-unconscious and 
 wholly unresponsive sons in a style which made 
 Grace and me surmise he was not unaccustomed 
 to public speaking. He talked glibly of the 
 duty of submission, of afflictions being blessings 
 in disguise, and so forth, but his truisms were 
 " too picked, too spruce, too affected as it were," 
 to find favour in our eyes. Of course we showed 
 all respect to his grey hairs, and made him free 
 to come and go when he would, but he never 
 appeared again. A visitor far more welcome to 
 the patients came two or three days later, a 
 modest, respectably dressed young woman, Levi's 
 fiancee. Levi was in a critical state then ; the 
 acute symptoms had passed away, but left him 
 pulseless and prostrated, and the liquid food and 
 stimulant he took at stated and frequent periods, 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 117 
 
 "par ordonnance du medecin," told no more 
 upon him than if they had been so much cold 
 water. He still "had his knowledge/* as the 
 women phrased it, unlike his brother, whose wits 
 (never bright, probably) were altogether suffused 
 now. " Jabez, Jabez," poor Levi used to exclaim, 
 "speak to me, lad !" and Jabez would answer in 
 an aggrieved voice, " I'm not here ; I'm with my 
 uncle Sam, at Appleby;" and so the brothers at 
 times confused and distressed one another, and 
 we would fain have kept them apart, but had 
 not space to do so. A shed was in progress 
 adjoining the farmhouse, for the better accom- 
 modation of the sick, but it could not possibly 
 be completed for some days. 
 
 Levi looked calmed and comforted by the 
 visit of his betrothed ; she had glided away, poor 
 thing, with her veil down, looking so sad and 
 drooping that it seemed kinder not to intrude 
 spoken sympathy upon her. He saw me, book 
 in hand, sitting by his bed, and made a sign 
 expressive of his wish to be read to. It was the 
 prodigal son, and I read it in a low voice, with- 
 out note. or comment, feeling more deeply than 
 ever the unearthly beauty of every word. Levi 
 lay quite still, listening. 
 
n8 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 It had been a trying day. A middle-aged 
 woman, a slave to dissipation, had been brought 
 in, thirty-six hours before, in an indescribably 
 neglected state. There were four children lying 
 dead in the house she was brought from, their 
 father having refused to let them be moved. 
 For lack of room below, we placed her in a 
 spare bed, curtained off from the convalescent 
 ward. Here we took turns to watch by her, and 
 administered champagne and other restoratives ; 
 but all was vain, and she had gone out like a 
 candle that afternoon. Not a few such objects 
 came to the hospital. It would be giving a one- 
 sided view of cholera in the streets and lanes of 
 the city quite to ignore them. 
 
 " The course of passion, and the fret 
 Of godless hope and fear," 
 
 combined with disease, laid many low ; but the 
 theme is too painful to be dwelt upon, and this 
 one instance shall suffice. The repulsive effects 
 of self-indulgence, even on the outward form, 
 were stamped with terrible distinctness on this 
 patient — so much so, that when the time came 
 for moving her body downstairs a panic seized 
 on the paupers appointed to do it. Not one 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 119 
 
 would touch her, and the most imperative orders 
 and threats of reporting them to Mr. Lomax 
 failed to restore their nerve. It was not till I 
 buckled to the task myself, with my utmost 
 strength, that they could be induced to lend a 
 hand in bearing the poor remains downstairs. 
 
 This duty accomplished, and a shower of 
 diluted carbolic acid having been poured on floor 
 and staircase, I looked in on Grace, who was 
 watching by the brothers. Jabez looked drowsy 
 and comfortable, but Levi's eyes were dilated and 
 restless, and his symptoms were not satisfactory. 
 It wanted but half an hour of Grace's resting 
 time, so I strolled out into the green field to 
 make the most of the interval. The evening 
 breeze was rough, but deliciously pure ; it blew 
 straight from those low slate-coloured hills that 
 cut so sharply against the orange sky. It moaned 
 round the corners of the house, and made wild 
 music in the boughs of the elm near our gate. 
 It shook the withered leaves from their parent 
 stem, and bore them on its wings far out of 
 sight; and I watched flight after flight hurrying 
 by, and likened them in my thoughts to the 
 throng of souls that had passed, and were pass- 
 ing away, day by day, from this little hospital. 
 
120 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 "We all do fade as a leaf, and our iniquities 
 like the wind have taken us away." 
 
 Anne's cheery voice, close at hand, broke 
 through these twilight musings ; after a quiet 
 talk with her I returned to the ward. Then 
 followed the reading of the "Prodigal Son" to 
 Levi, and of the " Evening Psalms " to another, 
 and then a spell of the dear " Promessi Sposi," 
 the solace of many a watching hour. All was 
 quiet — quieter than usual ; the women engaged 
 in preparing their supper and that of the con- 
 valescents — all but Nurse Nanny, who sat apart, 
 counting up those everlasting pawntickets of 
 hers, that lived in a tin snuff-box, and were pro- 
 duced and made the groundwork of abstruse 
 calculations evening after evening. Our staff 
 were on their best behaviour just now, for we 
 had had a regular pitched battle the previous 
 Sunday night, alas ! — some of them having 
 chosen that season for a drunken orgie of the 
 most disgraceful kind. Mr. Lomax had sup- 
 ported us gallantly, and turned away the ring- 
 leaders ; and since that, abject submission had 
 been the order of the day. Well, nine had 
 struck, and the outer gate been locked ; and our 
 doctor had come and gone, after prescribing 
 
IV.] OF A CITY. 121 
 
 some fever medicine for Levi. Suddenly, a 
 shout from Levi made me start, and he sprang 
 out of bed, and ran barefooted by me into the 
 tiled kitchen ; there, with the strength of de- 
 lirium, he began battering the house-door, and 
 threatening to demolish it and us if we meddled 
 with him ; he wanted to " get away," to get 
 into the open ; " he was on fire, and must be 
 put out!" I imagine his blind aim was to es- 
 cape into the field, and down the bank, and 
 plunge for coolness into the stream below — 
 that stream which had so lately closed over 
 his mother's head. Happily, his own violence 
 speedily exhausted him, and after staring about 
 him for some minutes, and smashing some of 
 the kitchen furniture, he let us lead him back 
 to bed. 
 
 Tired Grace had slept through this charivari, 
 and I had not the heart to wake her, so took 
 upon myself to despatch a messenger to Mr. 
 Lomax requesting the loan of a strong man as 
 soon as possible. The Union was almost a mile 
 off, and several glittering gin-palaces lay on 
 the way to try the fidelity of the messenger ; 
 happily she proved trustworthy, and in an hour 
 a muscular, intelligent, not ill-looking pauper, 
 
122 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 named Bromwich, returned with her, and was 
 put in charge of Levi and Jabez. Levi had 
 swallowed his fever-draught in silence, and 
 seemed calmer; Jabez's loud, regular snoring 
 relieved us of all present anxiety on his account. 
 But the perturbations of that night were not 
 over ; it might be about two o'clock that a 
 sound like a bugle-call woke me en sursaict. 
 On reaching the scene of action, I found Levi 
 standing erect on his bed, with some extem- 
 porized missile in his hand ready to fling, and 
 a volley of frightful oaths, true " smuts from 
 the pit," issuing from his lips. Grace stood by, 
 watching him with soft, pitying eyes, which 
 might disarm frenzy if anything could. The 
 women were gathered in the doorway, with 
 candles in their hands, uplifting their voices in 
 a shrill gabble of expostulation ; the patient 
 was now obviously beyond all feminine control, 
 and Bromwich nowhere to be seen ! His nerves, 
 shattered by habitual excess, had failed him, 
 and he had made himself scarce at the first 
 alarm. To despatch our messenger a second 
 time to the workhouse, asking for further help, 
 was the only course we could take, for we were 
 quite out of the beat of the police. We did 
 
IV.] OF A CITY. 123 
 
 this, then silenced the women, and put out the 
 lights, hoping that quiet and darkness might 
 have a sedative effect. Grace and I sat together 
 on a vacant bed, watching by the faint glimmer 
 from the stove, and wishing for the day. This 
 paroxysm ended by his throwing himself full 
 length on the bed, muttering and threatening ; 
 but a stronger one followed ere long. It was 
 reaching a formidable height, when we heard 
 the welcome sound of feet outside. The sky 
 was crimsoning over with the flush that pre- 
 cedes sunrise, when two men appeared ; Brom- 
 wich joined them in the kitchen, the sight of 
 allies apparently "screwing his courage to the 
 sticking place," and the trio advancing together, 
 took poor Levi by surprise. In three minutes 
 he was captured. It went to our hearts to see 
 this fine young man caught in the toils lil^e a 
 wild beast, but there was no help for it. He 
 never tasted food again, though we kept his 
 lips moistened, and in about sixteen hours he 
 sank. Mr. Helps watched by him and Jabez 
 the whole of that day : the one was taken, the 
 other left, for Jabez, after many ups and downs, 
 got well, and went home. He found a young 
 step-mother already installed, so his stay there 
 
124 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 was short, and he has ever since lodged with a 
 motherly old widow, who is very kind to him. 
 
 From this date, Mr. Lomax decided to have 
 an able-bodied pauper on the premises day and 
 night. Our first " squire of dames " was a man 
 six feet two in height, and broad in proportion. 
 Roach, commonly known as Cock-Roach, had 
 been valet to a duke, and was supposed to 
 have picked up " manners " in the ducal atmo- 
 sphere, but the refinement was only skin deep. 
 He drank so inveterately, and when " red hot 
 with drinking" grew so ruffianly, as to be 
 rather a terror than a protection in the long 
 November nights ; so we got rid of him within 
 a week. He was, happily, replaced by a civil, 
 honest, handy little old man, who did good 
 service to the end. 
 
 I could tell you about little Billy and Nelly, 
 and Nat, and Nat's clean, honest mother, all of 
 whose lives trembled in the balance for a while, 
 but who all got well, and are doing well, thank 
 God ! at this moment ; but my time, and perad- 
 venture your patience, might fail. A-propos of 
 patience, do you remember that pretty episode 
 in the " Pilgrim's Progress," of Passion and 
 Patience ? — how the former raved and stormed, 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 125 
 
 and the latter was willing to wait. You may 
 see it illustrated in this ward of the hospital. 
 Little Terry McGrath is about four, the pet at 
 home, used to his mother's knee ; but his mother 
 cannot nurse him now, for her doom has gone 
 forth, and she lies meekly awaiting it. So Terry 
 is in my lap, rocked to and fro, and seemingly 
 easy in his nest of blankets ; but his sweet baby 
 face alters from minute to minute, the life and 
 beauty passing out of it, till at last its hue 
 recalls Raphael's demoniac boy in the Vatican. 
 Then the breathing ceases. The mother's eye 
 marks all ; she beckons me to bring him to her, 
 and kisses his lips, saying dreamily, " My little 
 son, to-night thou'lt be in Paradise." Now, 
 Terence the elder comes in with the priest. 
 Terence is a tall, emaciated figure, with a beau- 
 tiful face, of the Spanish type, black curly hair 
 touched with grey, and dark eyes, bright as 
 diamonds. How holy and trustful he looks, as 
 he kneels erect with clasped hands between his 
 wife and dead child ! Me knows that he shall 
 soon be with them. Mr. O'Halloran recites in 
 English a prayer from some old Liturgy, quoted 
 almost word for word in our Bishop Andrewes' 
 ft Devotions ;" we may all join in that, for it was 
 
126 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 written for our comfort long before mediaeval 
 corruption crept in. Then Terence hangs over 
 his child-wife, and they talk together in broken 
 accents ; we would fain leave them to themselves, 
 but cannot, for Mary cries out if the friction is 
 suspended for a moment. Terence says, at last, 
 " he must go home and put the childer to bed ; 
 with the Blessed Lords leave he will be here 
 again betimes in the morning." 
 
 We arm him with provisions for his little ones 
 and himself, — much needed, for our doctor 
 assigns their diet of " herrings and river water " 
 as the cause of their virulent type of illness ; 
 then Terence wrings our hands with that wonder- 
 ful look of mingled anguish and hope only to 
 be seen, in some Italian Ecce Homo ; he ventures 
 a glance towards his wife, as she lies there folded 
 in a scarlet flannel cape, then slowly and reso- 
 lutely walks away. " 'Tain't worth that there 
 man's while to leave this here place : " this was 
 Nanny's true prophecy, as with arms akimbo 
 she watched him pass out. 
 
 That night, Mary went, we gladly believe, 
 to rejoin her little son in Paradise. Our next 
 news of Terence came from the priest, — not 
 the one I mentioned before, kind, earnest Mr. 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 127 
 
 O'Halloran, but his superior, though junior, 
 Monsieur La Fleur. He was a Frenchman, and 
 an original, this " Pere la Fleur." He is said 
 to have possessed a wonderful talent for teaching, 
 and to have made quite a reputation for the 
 college near Norminster, over which he presided ; 
 but you never could have guessed anything of 
 this from his looks or manner. He had a round, 
 pink and white, merry young face, with the 
 blithest laugh, and most " nimble spirit of 
 mirth," and an inexhaustible flow of droll 
 sayings, to which the pretty French idiom lent 
 a grace. He often accompanied Mr. O'Halloran, 
 on whom mainly devolved the duty of visiting 
 our Roman Catholic patients, and lingered 
 outside the wards for a catiserie with one or 
 other of us, while his colleague was at work 
 within. I do believe he took a kindly interest in 
 our welfare, and did his petit possible to amuse and 
 distract our thoughts. On this occasion, however, 
 he had come straight from the cemetery, having 
 performed the last offices for Mary McGrath 
 and her boy. We drew from him that Terence 
 was there, looking ill — "tres ma ! trcs vial ! " He 
 had lighted up with pleasure at the sight of 
 the crown of white roses on the coffin, but he 
 
128 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 was pale as an egg, le pauvre enfant ; and then 
 he would kneel down in the wet and mud by 
 the grave, and it was so bad for him, besides 
 spoiling the knees of his trousers, which were 
 of good broad-cloth ! " This last statement was 
 made in all seriousness ; and then the light- 
 hearted Frenchman ran on to other topics, 
 acting on his favourite maxim, a qnoi bon 
 sattrister? "Forme," he added, in his curiously 
 accented English, of which he was not a little 
 proud, " I am of a lively disposition, like the 
 most of my nation ; I have no vocation for La 
 Trappe — absolutely none, mesdames ! " He 
 laughed, and rubbed his hands, when one of us 
 suggested, in the spirit of mischief, that perhaps 
 the discipline of La Trappe might most benefit 
 those who least affected it. " Ah, ah, my shilde, 
 you are malicious ! " he exclaimed ; " but we 
 shall see you one of ourselves shortly ! Ah, I 
 foresee it ! Meanwhile, bon soir, mesdames, for 
 here comes my excellent brother." Then he 
 and Mr. O'Halloran walked away together, the 
 very impersonation of Allegro and Penseroso. 
 
 Why does memory dwell on trivialities like 
 these ? Simply because " the last of everything 
 is affecting, "and that was, to the best of my 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 129 
 
 recollection, the last time we ever saw M. La 
 Fleur. He sickened of cholera a few days later, 
 was devotedly nursed by some of his flock, and 
 rallied sufficiently to be sent back to his sunny 
 home and his old mother in Normandy. But 
 atrophy had set in, and he did not live through 
 the winter. 
 
 The double funeral had taken place on a 
 Saturday. There was a lull on Sunday — no fatal 
 case ; and the church bells, flinging their music 
 far and wide, lightened even our hearts, unwilling 
 exiles aswe were from ourholyand beautiful house 
 of prayer. Mr. Helps came early to administer 
 the Holy Communion to us three, in one of the 
 wards ; we had covered the table with a " fair 
 linen cloth " from home, and decked it with 
 bright, sweet roses, to relieve the gloom of the 
 place ; and now, in the strength of that heavenly 
 Food, we prepared to meet whatever it might 
 please God to send of sadness and struggle. 
 Early the next morning Terence was brought 
 in : his coming created quite a sensation in that 
 little world. He was laid in a passage room, 
 where we had had two extra beds put up, for 
 times of pressure. Later in the day the second 
 bed received a tenant too, Brancker, an artisan 
 
 K 
 
130 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 of about forty, of powerful frame — struck down, 
 alas ! in the middle of a " drinking-bout," wherein 
 he had tried to drown his terror of infection. 
 Here were " Patience and Passion " side by side, 
 Terence bearing his twelve hours' martyrdom 
 without a murmur, repressing all sound of suf- 
 fering while the cold drops stood on his brow, 
 and his cramped, knotted limbs almost defied 
 our best efforts at friction. Hour after hour 
 passed, remedies and warmth unavailing, gentle 
 rubbing the only resource. As the strength wore 
 out the fortitude increased, if possible ; there 
 was scarcely power for utterance in that close 
 conflict, but one brief sentence, "I'm holding 
 by the Cross," gave the key-note of Terence's 
 thoughts. 
 
 Brancker's was a dreary nursing; no self- 
 control, no recognition (to the eye of man, at 
 least) of God's hand ; no response to Mr. Helps's 
 ministrations, and earnest, loving appeals. His 
 own brother, a rude but kindly attendant, fled 
 at last, dismayed by the " shuddering start of 
 passion in her might," and so he sank. Terence 
 seemed all the while wholly unconscious of the 
 tragedy enacting within an arm's length of him. 
 In this and other instances, we were much im- 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 131 
 
 pressed by the state of isolation in which the 
 spirit of each cholera patient appears to dwell. 
 Whether selfish or unselfish by nature, the in- 
 dividual's whole powers seem engrossed by the 
 effort of bearing his own burden. Je mourrai 
 scid y a true saying always, is emphatically true 
 often from the moment of seizure, in this most 
 mysterious of diseases. 
 
 One proof more of a loving, grateful heart 
 Terence, however, gave. I had bidden him point 
 out the limb in which friction was most helpful, 
 as the cramps were apt to shift suddenly from 
 one part of the body to another. For a con- 
 siderable time he made no sign, and I sorrow- 
 fully remarked to Marianne Barnard, who had 
 just come in, that the rubbing seemed to have 
 lost its virtue. Terence beckoned me nearer, 
 and said, softly, " Lady dear, the rubbing is all 
 the comfort in this world to me, but it's tired 
 out you are, and I see it." Marianne, now libe- 
 rated from a hopeless watch in the next ward, 
 left Terence no more. She closed his eyes in 
 peace, just as the Norminster curfew began to 
 toll. He passed away so quietly ! 
 
 " Night-dews fall not more gently to the ground, 
 Nor weary, worn-out winds expire so soft." 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 We were then at the culminating point of our 
 mortality, and can recall the chill feeling at 
 one's heart, when told that the postman had 
 flung a letter directed to one of us at the hospital 
 over the wall, and fled, lest he should come in 
 contact with its owner. It gave us some faint 
 idea, for the moment, of the isolation of lepers, 
 as described in the Gospels. Of course, this 
 general avoidance made any visit of sympathy 
 doubly precious. One afternoon, about this 
 time, I was concocting some " Liebig " for a 
 patient, when Nanny bustled in with the infor- 
 mation that an " ould gentleman were axing 
 perticklar for Miss Dutton, but would rayther 
 not come in." Outside our kitchen door I 
 recognized grey-haired Lord Kendal, standing 
 alone, with a slight nervous trepidation in his 
 manner ; but the gentle, benevolent expression 
 of his face more marked than ever. For 
 obvious reasons it seemed right to stand aloof 
 from him, and so, for a minute or two, we 
 respected my self-imposed cordon sanitaire ; 
 then the warm, unworldly heart within 
 him got the better of prudence, and hurrying 
 forward he grasped both my hands, asking 
 with deep interest after our welfare, and that 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 133 
 
 of each patient. He added kind offers of 
 help, and seeing one of poor Mary Howard's 
 little ones running about in the kitchen, pro- 
 mised a provision for it in one of the charitable 
 institutions which his beneficence helped to 
 maintain. 
 
 It is time this recital of cholera experiences 
 should cease, lest you should be experimentally 
 reminded of Ruskin's remark that " monotony 
 is pain." I will wind up with the singular his- 
 tory of Isobel Cairns, premising, as children 
 say, that it ends well. It was the sixth week of 
 our nursing, and the shed which I have told you 
 the guardians built for our patients had just 
 been completed. It was a solid yet airy and 
 cheerful place ; a thick curtain divided off the 
 men's ward from that of the women and chil- 
 dren. Kind friends had prepared for us a series 
 of very effectively illuminated texts to adorn 
 our cornice the whole way round, and two of the 
 cross-beams of the roof were decorated in like 
 manner. Everything here was clean, and might 
 be kept so with ease. What a contrast to the 
 low, gloomy, inconvenient rooms of the old farm, 
 with their mournful associations — I had almost 
 said superstitions ! For the people about us 
 
134 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 were intensely superstitious — some of them re- 
 ligiously believed (it was their only religion, I 
 fear) that the place was haunted ; they were full 
 of signs and omens, winding-sheets in the candles, 
 itchings in their elbows, which always betokened 
 a death, and then what they talked of as the 
 " death-call " among themselves in whispers ! I 
 firmly believe this last sound proceeded from 
 our neighbours the white owls in the chantry, 
 but such a suggestion would have been scouted 
 by our women. Once indeed we had been able 
 to dispel an alarm of this sort triumphantly, but 
 only once. One of the convalescents chancing 
 to stray into a ward where several sick folk lay, 
 indiscreetly exclaimed that he heard the death- 
 watch. " He heard it his own self, that very 
 moment; it was all up with somebody!" This 
 prophetic announcement might have wrought its 
 own completion if one of us had not happily 
 divined its cause. " Whereabouts is your death- 
 watch, Willy ? " asked Grace ; " show me." 
 Willy pointed to a little shelf against the wall, 
 on which stood a large jug of flowers : " It's 
 up theere, Miss Oakley ; I hear it a-ticking now 
 — don't you ? " Grace replied by smilingly 
 removing the flowers, and displaying a small 
 
iv.] OF A CITY. 135 
 
 brass clock which the Rector of St. Magnus had 
 kindly brought us as a loan that afternoon. 
 
 It was essential for us nurses to put a bold 
 front on matters in general, as the slightest 
 faltering would have " demoralized " this motley 
 crew; but I must plead guilty to some very 
 weird, uncanny sensations at times, some " faint 
 cold chills about my heart " in the pauses of my 
 work, causeless dreads and shudderings, moments 
 when excited fancy seemed to push reason aside. 
 There is a weir in the stream a little below our 
 field, over which in certain states of the tide the 
 w r aters flow with a hoarse murmur. That mur- 
 muring, heard in " the witching time of night," 
 used to blend solemnly with the sadder sounds 
 within our wards, as though "remorse and woe" 
 had lent their voices to the unconscious stream. 
 Even now the two remain inseparably connected 
 in my mind, and memory lends a dirge-like 
 undertone to the playful chime of those falling 
 waters. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 "Ay me! 
 How weak a thing the heart of woman is I" 
 ***** 
 "Try what repentance can ! what can it not?" 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 OUR migration into the shed seemed to strike at 
 the root of these morbid fancies, though some of 
 our fatal and most abject " cases" were brought 
 there. Isobel Cairns was carried in early one 
 Sunday morning ; we had no previous notice of 
 her arrival, and the first intimation I received 
 was a quick call for help from Grace as I was 
 reading the day's Psalms to Jabez Bland. 
 There were the men with measured tramp bear- 
 ing the stretcher the whole length of the shed ; 
 it was deposited alongside of the bed that was 
 always kept in readiness for such surprises. A 
 muster of "hot bottles," india-rubber or stone, 
 
ch. v.] STREETS AND LANES OF A CITY. 137 
 
 was made ; and meanwhile a young person of 
 attractive and superior appearance, seemingly 
 as ill as it is possible to be, was lifted out 
 and deposited in the bed. The cramps were 
 dreadful, and kept two of us at work, with short 
 pauses, for many hours. Poor Isobel ! if pain 
 may be compared with pain, hers surely bore 
 away the palm. There was some mystery hang- 
 ing over her, evidently. The Inspector had been 
 casually told of her state by a kind-hearted old 
 labourer, and had found her alone, occupying a 
 good room in a house of some pretension. It 
 seems a panic had seized her hostess, for there 
 she lay untended, with a baby ten days old at 
 her side. Of course, the neglect, the recent 
 birth of the child, the young mother's agony of 
 mind, all these things made her state more than 
 critical — hopeless to human eye. At first she 
 seemed bewildered, and stared wildly round. 
 Presently, however, she grew quieter, looked at 
 Grace, then at me earnestly, and cried out, 
 " Save me ! save me ! for the sake of the puir 
 wee thing that has nane but me ! " This pierc- 
 ing call startled us, and Grace glanced at me 
 across the bed, with an all but imperceptible 
 shake of the head. The truth was clear ; that 
 
138 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 cramped, distorted left hand wore no wedding 
 ring; the story of the unhappy girl was one of 
 sin and ruin. 
 
 It was hard to believe this ; so modest, and 
 neat, and refined did she and her surroundings 
 appear; so plaintive and sweet was her Scotch 
 accent, as she moaned, " My puir bairn ! my puir 
 bairn ! " continually. Our anxiety to save her 
 redoubled if possible ; and, after ten days of the 
 closest nursing, we had the inexpressible comfort 
 of hearing her pronounced out of danger. 
 
 With the free leave of our kind doctor, a dear 
 friend of mine, a Norminster physician in great 
 practice, watched over this and several other 
 cases. Till within a fortnight of our breaking 
 up, he was the only practitioner admitted within 
 our w r alls. His untiring kindness to the sick 
 and to us, his almost daily visits at a great 
 sacrifice of valuable time, "all for love and 
 nothing for reward," we can never think of with- 
 out a thrill of gratitude. The following remarks, 
 
 extracted from Dr. M 's notes (afterwards 
 
 printed), show how extreme had been poor 
 Isobel's danger : — " Violent cramps, &c. ; thirst 
 and restlessness excessive ; she several times 
 appeared to be dying ; blueness and clamminess 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 139 
 
 of the skin, sunken eyes, and great exhaustion ; 
 she was for some time picking at the bed-clothes. 
 Chlorine administered regularly from Sunday till 
 
 Wednesday, when Mr. recommended the 
 
 doses should be given at longer intervals ; flush- 
 ings and excitement, but no after fever. Re- 
 covered." 
 
 Isobel was a " heavy handful" to nurse, it 
 must be owned, so incessant and imperious 
 in her requirements. " Oh rub ! rub ! rub my 
 puir feet, the tain and the tither ! oh rub, and 
 dinna cease ! Oh, pit some mair ice in my 
 mouth — a wee bittie, Miss Dutton, a wee bittie!" 
 This was her cry day and night, compelling us 
 now and then to administer a rebuke, even while 
 humouring her wishes. But, as the mother is 
 supposed to feel a peculiar tendresse for the most 
 fractious of her babes, so we cherished our poor 
 forlorn Isobel with a special love, and she was 
 not at heart ungrateful. The old workman 
 whose timely intervention had probably saved 
 her life used to call in most evenings to inquire 
 after her, and it was pretty to see her joyful 
 welcome of him when consciousness returned. 
 Another visitor also came, the woman of the 
 house where Isobel had lodged ; from her she 
 
140 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 shrank with fear and aversion so marked, that 
 we forbade the visit being repeated till Isobel's 
 strength should return. The woman's account 
 of her lodger was as follows : — Isobel came from 
 the Highlands, and had left home and her 
 widowed mother to seek, as so many do, service 
 in England. She had lived some years with a 
 well-known and respected family, whom we will 
 call Malcolm, about thirty miles from Normin- 
 ster, and had proved herself so clever and trust- 
 worthy a servant that, young as she was, Mrs. 
 Malcolm had promoted her to be cook. This 
 woman had been her fellow-servant for a time, 
 but had since married a Norminster man; so 
 she and Isobel had lost sight of one another till 
 a few weeks before, when Isobel had written 
 to her engaging her spare room for a month. 
 Shortly after, the unhappy young woman had 
 arrived in a state bordering on distraction. 
 Her betrayer had proved heartless, and extin- 
 guished any hope that might have lingered in 
 her breast of his offering her the poor reparation 
 of marriage. Her mother, a widow of unstained 
 character, would die of grief in her Highland 
 home if the tidings of her child's shame were 
 brought to her. All was misery within and 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 
 
 141 
 
 without. Nevertheless, the child was safely 
 born, and the young mother seemed to be doing 
 well, when Asiatic cholera in its most virulent 
 type attacked her. The rest of her history we 
 knew. "Where was the child ?" we asked. " It 
 had been removed," the woman said. Another 
 of Mrs. Malcolm's servants, also a Highland 
 lassie, from the same " toon " as Isobel, and 
 her bosom friend, had come over on hearing of 
 Isobel's removal to our hospital, and taken the 
 babe away. Effie Polwarth had announced her 
 intention of shortly returning to visit Isobel, the 
 journey by train from Malcolm Grange to Nor- 
 minster being a short and direct one. Our 
 informant on this painful subject was a vulgar- 
 minded, selfish woman. She coolly observed 
 that but for this unlucky " collery " Isobel might 
 have gone back to her situation and been never 
 the worse ! Mrs. Malcolm fully believed Isobel 
 to be with her mother at Inverness, and would 
 never have asked any questions, or, if she had, 
 would be " easy put off." The woman enlarged 
 on her own kindness to Isobel, the poor chance 
 of repayment in full for her trouble, and the con- 
 sequences to Isobel should her sad secret get 
 abroad, in a hard, sneering tone, that redoubled 
 
142 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 our pity for the hapless girl thus thrown on her 
 mercy; and many were the anxious colloquies 
 Grace and I held concerning her. We were glad 
 when she w T as so far recovered as to be able to 
 attend to Mr. Helps's ministrations and to our 
 morning and evening family prayers. 
 
 The Sunday fortnight of her admittance was 
 a thankful and joyful day to me, for I had been 
 able for the first time since our hospital opened 
 to attend divine service in a quiet, thinly- attended 
 neighbouring church. Meanwhile Grace took 
 charge of the shed. On my return from Even- 
 song I found two neat young women asking for 
 admission. The taller of them, a strikingly 
 handsome and intelligent-looking girl, introduced 
 herself as Euphemia Polwarth, in the service of 
 Mrs. Malcolm of the Grange, and requested 
 leave for herself and her companion to visit their 
 fellow-servant Isobel Cairns. There seemed 
 no longer any objection on the score of health 
 to their doing so; the mauvais moment of the 
 first interview must be got over. Perhaps the 
 patient's intense restlessness and irritability of 
 nerves might be soothed by their presence ; so I 
 ushered them in with an earnest caution against 
 over-exciting her in her utter weakness. " And 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 143 
 
 remember," I added, "God has mercifully brought 
 her back from the gates of the grave, that she 
 may truly repent and return to Him ; act as true 
 Christian friends to poor Isobel ; do not, do not 
 advise her to take any step that would be dis- 
 pleasing to Him, I beg of you." 
 
 Euphemia's splendid dark eyes shunned mine 
 while I spoke, and her face crimsoned ; its ex- 
 pression grew positively repulsive at that moment. 
 Pointing them to Isobel's bed, I joined Grace, 
 and we remained a little apart, but could hear 
 the sound of weeping, and see the sick girl's arms 
 clasped round her friend's neck and the stately 
 Effie hiding her face on Isobel's pillow. A 
 whispered conference ensued, the purport of 
 which we only learnt from its very annoying 
 and disappointing results. The visitors partook 
 of some tea we ordered for them, then departed 
 to catch their train, Effie thanking us in her 
 Scotch accent and reserved proud way for our 
 hospitality. 
 
 Isobel was so exhausted that sedatives and 
 rest were immediately needful. 
 
 I hasten over the next week, during which 
 her mood seemed never the same for an hour 
 together, waking aye and weary, every phase 
 
144 • THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 of gloom and ungraciousness passed through by 
 turns. Yet one could see she hated herself for it 
 all the while. "Who can minister to a mind 
 diseased ?" we sighed to one another and to wise, 
 persevering Mr. Helps. Her reserve continued 
 unbroken, like a lava crust with a boiling stream 
 flowing beneath. The wonder was that, in spite 
 of all this mental turmoil, Isobel was getting 
 well fast. 
 
 At this time imperative family reasons sud- 
 denly called Grace away from hospital work. It 
 was like parting with a very dear young sister, 
 for nothing cements love so fast as work of this 
 kind done jointly. She, Marianne, and I had 
 insensibly slipped into a habit of calling one 
 another " sister," which clings to us still. We 
 had been busy together, and sad and anxious 
 together, and, more often than you would sup- 
 pose, merry together ; and what should part us 
 now ? 
 
 An influential newspaper reached us one day 
 with a marked paragraph commenting in the most 
 friendly spirit on our small doings ; it wound up 
 by asserting that we three " represented the three 
 leading schools of thought in our Church." We 
 could not but smile at the contrast between this 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 145 
 
 rather grandiloquent definition of our sentiments, 
 and the very humble nature of the employments 
 it found us engaged in ; one boiling bread and 
 milk to suit the fastidious taste of Jabez Bland, 
 another splitting up a huge lump of ice with a 
 darning-needle, the third stuffing a bed with 
 fresh chaff for poor Isobel. Truly it is a great 
 and blessed thought that George Herbert has 
 bequeathed to us — 
 
 "Who sweeps a room as for Thy sake, 
 Makes that, and the action, fine." 
 
 Only let us try to work heartily together for 
 His sake, and then variety of thought and feel- 
 ing on minor matters will rather enhance than 
 detract from the sweetness of communion with 
 one another. 
 
 Grace was gone, but a loving Providence so 
 ordered it that Marianne was set free within a 
 day or two to return to the hospital. Not many 
 patients remained there now, and they were 
 doing well ; a sickly woman out of Abbot's 
 Street, brought in under Mr. Helps's eye, had 
 been our last arrival. 
 
 I think it was on the Sunday after Graced 
 departure that Euphemia reappeared on the 
 
 L 
 
146 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 scene, accompanied by Isobel's landlady. There 
 was an eager, stormy, whispered consultation 
 between the three, Isobel sitting up in bed and 
 looking with distressed eyes from the one to 
 the other of her evil counsellors. Their tones 
 and looks through the colloquy were so unsatis- 
 factory, so unsuited to the day of rest and 
 prayer and praise, that I could not let them 
 pass unnoticed. I spoke a few words in a low 
 voice to the group, urging upon each the duty of 
 truth in their present dealings, upon Isobel the 
 duty of hiding nothing from God and from her 
 kind and too confiding mistress. God would 
 help her to do this, if she asked Him honestly ; 
 if not, however successful the deceit, she would 
 pierce herself through eventually with many 
 sorrows. At this, Effie threw back her head, 
 and her eyes flashed defiance at me, though not 
 a sound escaped her white lips. I wondered at 
 the vehemence of her feeling, not knowing at 
 the time the full depth and audacity of the 
 plan concocted by her in order to screen her 
 friend. Hers was the master spirit of the two, 
 and, seeing Isobel crushed by her guilt and shame, 
 she had originally negotiated for her with her 
 Norminster landlady, and helped generously to 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 147 
 
 pay the expenses of her stay here. When 
 cholera seized upon Isobel, Effie had put a 
 bold face on the matter, and led their unsus- 
 pecting mistress to believe that it had attacked 
 the girl at Edinburgh on her way home. This 
 delusion she had kept up ; and Mrs. Malcolm, 
 really liking and valuing Isobel much, had 
 readily consented to keep the place open for 
 her. The weak point in this plot was its being 
 known by Isobel's grasping landlady ; but Effie 
 hoped to keep her lips closed with a silver, 
 perchance a golden padlock. In her zeal for 
 her friend, she forgot the true saying, that " a 
 lie has no legs." Effie went away with a sullen 
 brow, more touched and pricked at heart, I 
 could not help thinking, than that indomitable 
 pride of hers would let her own. Again poor 
 Isobel needed sedatives and rest, and to be left 
 to her reflections. 
 
 I had my thoughts, too, for it was quite clear 
 that Mrs. Malcolm must not be allowed to 
 remain thus blindfolded by her own dependants ; 
 sooner than that, I would write ; yet the task 
 of informer was an odious one, and I could not 
 bring myself to wave this threat over Isobel's 
 head, thus robbing any confession she might 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 make of its only merit, spontaneousness. To 
 wait a few days, and commit all to God, seemed 
 the best way. 
 
 And, happily, God did work in the matter, 
 speaking Himself to Isobel, not in storm, nor in 
 earthquake, but in His own still small voice. 
 That reached her conscience when nothing else 
 could. The fidgety ways gradually passed away, 
 giving place to deep sadness. She shyly asked 
 me one day to lend her a Bible, and after that 
 I often saw her reading — one might hope from 
 the intentness of her look, searching — the Scrip- 
 tures : then followed a gracious rain of frequent 
 tears, freshening and cooling brain and heart as 
 nothing else can. " Miss Amy, dear," she said, 
 one evening, glancing up with unwonted soft- 
 ness, " can ye spare me a minute, just ? " I sat 
 down by her bed. " Miss Amy, w r ill- ye write 
 in the name of me to Mistress Malcolm, and tell 
 her all the truth ? I canna justly guide the 
 pen mysel', and it's a sair burden I maun lay 
 on her heart, puir leddy. But tell all, Miss 
 Amy, tell all ; for I canna draw near my hea- 
 venly Father with a lee in my mouth, and I'll 
 breathe freer when I've laid my sin and my 
 shame at His feet!" 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 149 
 
 Then, with many breaks and bitter sighs, 
 Isobel poured forth her history. Her mind 
 reverted to early days, to her mother, to her 
 father now dead ; to her home, and the rigid 
 yet loving training those Presbyterian parents 
 had given her. Her words brought Burns's 
 "wee bit ingle," "clean hearthstane," and "thriftie 
 wifie," before my eyes. Then came the going 
 forth into service, and the " braw hoose," and 
 its many temptations and distractions. "Ah!" 
 she said, wringing her hands, "so lang as I luved 
 and keepit my Sabbaths, all went weel wi' me ; 
 but the warld creepit in, and the Sabbath became 
 a weariness, and I hearkened, fule bairn that I 
 was, to ane that mocked at holy things ; and 
 sae he has lured me over the pit's brink, and 
 left me to perish." The dark tale of her fall 
 and desertion followed in incoherent words, and 
 then the cry, " Tell all, Miss Amy, all but my 
 doole and wae ; ye canna tell the hundredth part 
 of that ! And spare Effie ; she's a kind lass, is 
 Effie, and never blistered her tongue with a 
 lee till she did it to save me : and Effie has a 
 mither to wark for, too." 
 
 On the whole, the tone of Isobel's confession 
 was hopeful. It showed no love for vice, no 
 
150 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 habitual light-mindedness, no desire to shift 
 blame from herself to others. The base de- 
 stroyer of her peace had found her no easy- 
 prey, for love of dress and personal vanity were 
 not her weak points ; and it was only by having 
 recourse to the most cruel and unmanly arts 
 that he had got her into his power. 
 
 This view of the matter, which Mrs. Malcolm 
 afterwards confirmed, makes poor Isobel's story 
 specially instructive, I think. She sinned and 
 she suffered simply from neglecting to watch 
 and pray. By little and little she had allowed 
 the sacred truths, learnt in her Highland home, 
 to slip out of mind ; her conscience, tender at 
 first even to over-scrupulousness, from its train- 
 ing under Covenanting influences, had become 
 dull through wilful contact with evil ; scoffs and 
 light talk, which once would have shocked her 
 sense of right, failed to do so, and so she fell, 
 poor girl, — fell away from the guide of her youth, 
 and forgot the covenant of her God. 
 
 The letter to Mrs. Malcolm was written at 
 Isobel's dictation, — a very humble, sorrowful, 
 self-reproaching letter. Seldom has so painful 
 an office fallen to me ; and the day but one 
 after, when the reply was brought in, I doubt 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 151 
 
 whether Isobel's heart went pit-a-pat faster than 
 mine. It must have been a terrible pang to 
 her to listen to that reply. Mrs. Malcolm wrote 
 so gently, grieving far more for the sin and 
 deceit practised by her servants than for the 
 exceeding inconvenience and distress entailed 
 by them on herself. Indeed, she seemed lost in 
 amazement and grief at the dark story. It was 
 obvious, she said, that neither Isobel nor the 
 fellow-servants who had abetted her falsehood 
 could remain in her service : she had been com- 
 pelled to give them warning, but would deal 
 with them as leniently as was possible. She 
 trusted that Isobel would repent, and pray to 
 be forgiven ; if her forgiveness could be any 
 comfort to the poor unhappy girl, it was freely 
 accorded. 
 
 Isobel seemed crushed to the dust by this 
 letter, and, in addition to her own sorrows, 
 Effie's loss of an excellent situation was a heavy 
 grief to her. However, she was now in the way 
 to find peace, and her " bosom being cleansed 
 from the perilous stuff" which had choked its 
 better feelings so long, she seemed to recover 
 something of the spring and elasticity of youth. 
 It was a glad day with us when first she rose 
 
152 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 from her bed, and, supported by two of us, 
 tottered half the length of the ward and back 
 again. She soon " found her feet," as nurses 
 say, and might be seen doing little kindly offices 
 for the other patients ; it cheered her to be 
 employed in light culinary work at the stove 
 in our shed, and she took special pride in pre- 
 paring our nightly supper of " halesome parritch, 
 chief of Scotia's food." Capital porridge it was, 
 too ! but this by the way. Isobel's dearest 
 employment was reading. A dimness which 
 had threatened her sight at first soon dispersed, 
 and she then threw herself on our store of books, 
 devotional and miscellaneous, with untiring 
 ardour. From Dr. Vaughan's " Commentary 
 on the Revelations," which she could scarcely 
 lay down, to Marryat's pleasant " Masterman 
 Ready," nothing came amiss to Isobel ; but the 
 Book of books still held the first place in her 
 thoughts, and she used to look out the marginal 
 references with a conscientious care few English- 
 women of her class would have practised. 
 
 November was come, and almost gone. The 
 rain pattered against our windows, and several 
 hailstorms had rattled on our long wooden roof 
 with astounding din. The wonderful meteors of 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 153 
 
 that special year had played overhead on the 
 1 2th of November, one of our number counting 
 more than a thousand of those brilliant fire-balls. 
 Isobel was still with us, and remained in the 
 hospital until the joyful day of our return home. 
 
 It took us by surprise at last; our Union 
 doctor pronounced the three or four remaining 
 convalescents quite fit to be moved ; Isobel we 
 placed in a lodging in Abbot's Street, under the 
 wing of a motherly woman ; the rest went back 
 to their families. We only waited to surrender 
 the keys to Mr. Lomax, and then, with rap- 
 turously thankful hearts, returned to ours. The 
 halcyon calm of that first unbroken night's rest 
 it would be difficult to describe ! 
 
 It was a great relief to Isobel to hear from 
 Effie about this time of her intended marriage 
 to a respectable tradesman. The same letter, 
 however, brought a mournful account of Isobel's 
 poor baby ; it had had a fall, through the neglect 
 of its nurse, and its spine was injured. Her 
 grief and solicitude on its account were deep. 
 She at once went off to see it, though very unfit 
 for the exertion, and she brought the poor miser- 
 able little object back with her, and tended it 
 unremittingly till the time came when she had 
 
154 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 to go to service. Its death was quite a blow to 
 her, and she bewailed to me with bitter tears the 
 " doom " her sin had brought on the " wee bit 
 thing that hadn't sinned, like her/' We liked 
 her all the better for this warm feeling. We 
 were pleased, too, with her strict honesty in re- 
 paying some money we advanced to her for its 
 funeral expenses. We have never had reason to 
 doubt for a moment that Isobel is bringing forth 
 " fruits meet for repentance." 
 
 A train of circumstances not worth recounting 
 here, led to Isobel's speedy return to her native 
 Scotland. She has now lived above four years 
 in a respectable family north of Tweed. She 
 writes from time to time, and one of her letters 
 lies before me now : " Isobel takes the liberty of 
 troubling Miss Dutton with another of her ill- 
 written letters, to say that she is well, and 
 hopes her dear ladies are so too." Here the pro- 
 noun abruptly changes. " I bless the day when 
 I was carried to the hospital. I was blinded 
 with sin then, but now, thanks to God for His 
 great goodness, I see." Then follows a string 
 of affectionate messages to all who had be- 
 friended her. 
 
 Her last letter, dated January 1871, is written, 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 155 
 
 after a much longer interval than usual, from a 
 warm nook in the south of England. With the 
 bold disregard of pronouns that characterizes 
 her style, she begins : " Isobel writes to you, but 
 is ashamed to do it after being so long — but, 
 indeed, I am not ungrateful, and my dear friends 
 in Norminster are always in my daily prayers." 
 She then relates how her "dear master" had 
 been taken ill and they had moved to the south 
 for his health, but he had died, and the shock 
 had told so sadly on his young widow, that for 
 some time she had not been expected to 
 survive. " But, thank God for His goodness, 
 she is better." The strain of the whole letter 
 is most thankworthy as it respects Isobel's 
 feelings and conduct. 
 
 Before our fifteen recovered patients dispersed 
 far and wide to their homes or places of service, 
 we had a solemn, happy gathering in St. Mag- 
 nus's Church. Our tried friends the Rector and 
 Curate officiated at this thanksgiving service, 
 and the former addressed us briefly, in words 
 which, coming straight from the heart, went 
 straight to it. After this, we gave our patients 
 and their friends, to the number of about forty, 
 a substantial tea, in a room bright with flowers, 
 
156 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 flags, and devices. Our clergymen were there 
 and our good doctor, and Mr. Lomax, and Dr. 
 
 M , and harmony and chastened gladness 
 
 possessed all hearts. It seemed a day that, 
 
 " In golden letters should be set, 
 Among the high tides in the kalendar " 
 
 of thankful memory. 
 
 These slight sketches of district work, or 
 attempts at work, with its offshoots of poor- 
 house and hospital experience, are but a few out 
 of many pictured in my remembrance. They 
 are by no means the most sensational that I 
 have witnessed ; the most sensational scenes are 
 not generally the most edifying, nor the most 
 helpful towards adding to one's stock of experi- 
 ence in such a way as may benefit others. On 
 this head I would venture to say to my young 
 sister workers, If the details of evil are unavoid- 
 ably brought under your eye, let not your thoughts 
 rest upon them a moment longer than is abso- 
 lutely needful. Dismiss them with a vigorous 
 effort as soon as you have done your best to 
 apply a remedy ; commit the matter into higher 
 Hands; then turn to your book, your music, 
 your wood-carving, your pet recreation, whatever 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 157 
 
 it is. This is one way at least of keeping the 
 mind elastic and pure. 
 
 It is the growing intricacy of district work that 
 I have tried to point out and furnish some clue to. 
 The strands in the thread of social life become 
 more numerous and perplexing year by year now 
 that many " run to and fro, and knowledge (bad 
 as well as good) is increased," and thought has 
 waxed bolder (perchance too bold) in its range, 
 and intellectual pursuits are open to the peasant 
 as well as to the peer. Owing to these and 
 other causes, high and low life are gradually 
 melting into one another ; or at least the sharp 
 contrast between them is softening down. New 
 problems to be solved, new entanglements to be 
 unravelled, are continually arising. These will 
 beset even the lowly path of the worker amongst 
 the poor, and she must be prepared to deal with 
 them ; she will need both the wisdom of the 
 serpent and the harmlessness of the dove. 
 
 Now let us take a parting glance at our work 
 from the lower standpoint of homely Common- 
 sense, Religion's best handmaid. The district 
 visitor must have a distinct aim in all she does. 
 " How," says the proverb, " can you ask your 
 road till you know whither you intend to go ? " 
 
158 THE STREETS AND LANES [chap. 
 
 She must do and say nothing for effect ; " praise 
 be her penance here." She must be rigidly dis- 
 creet, adopting from a nobler motive than self- 
 interest the Italian motto, orecchie spalancate, e 
 bocca stretta. She must not be made of "so 
 slight elements " as to grow weary of her work 
 because there seems little to show for it. " Have 
 patience, and the mulberry-leaf will become 
 satin." " By dint of much coming and going 
 the bird builds her nest." She must use her 
 best discrimination in reading character, and yet 
 be content to be taken in sometimes — humbled, 
 not soured, by such disappointments : " Love's 
 mark outwears the rankest blot." She must crop 
 down her own fancies and personal indulgences 
 to the utmost limit compatible with the require- 
 ments of her station, in order to minister to the 
 bodies of those whose souls she would fain 
 benefit. " One doesn't give (in the true sense of 
 the word) at all," said one of the best and most 
 lady-like women I ever knew, " until one pinches 
 oneself to give." Lastly, she must beware of 
 ever deeming herself an isolated worker ; that 
 misconception tends to gloom and self-conscious- 
 ness. The opposite and true view of oneness in 
 our aims with good men and angels, of every 
 
v.] OF A CITY. 159 
 
 degree, is gladdening in the extreme. "We all 
 belong to the same corps" was a favourite thought 
 with the author of the " Christian Year." 
 
 A district visitor of this stamp, rich in these 
 petites vertus which are yet so great, distinct in 
 aim, unaffected, discreet, not soon daunted, 
 trustful, tenderly indulgent, wisely open-handed, 
 such a one must be blessed in her deed ; blessed 
 now, more blessed still when her brief hour of 
 work in the Master's vineyard shall have closed. 
 May each of us, my sisters, be enabled then to 
 say — 
 
 "My prayers and alms, imperfect and denied, 
 Were but the feeble efforts of a child ; 
 Howe'er performed, it was their brightest part 
 That they proceeded from a grateful heart. 
 I cast them at Thy feet ; my only plea 
 Is — what it was — dependence upon Thee : 
 When struggling in the vale of tears below, 
 That never failed, nor shall it fail me now." 
 
 THE END. 
 
LONDON : 
 
 R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS, 
 
 BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
Bedford Street, Covent Garden, London. 
 
 April, 187 1. 
 
 Macmillan dr- Co:s General Catalogue 
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 " Few books have appeared of late years better entitled to an attentive 
 
 perusal. . . . It presents a cojnplete narrative of all that has been done and 
 
 atte??ipted by various philanthropists for the amelioration of the condition and 
 
 the improvement of the morals of the criminal classes in the British 
 
 dominions. " — London Review. 
 
 Cobden. — SPEECHES ON QUESTIONS OF PUBLIC 
 
 POLICY. By Richard Cobden. Edited by the Right Hon. 
 
 John Bright, M.P., and Professor Rogers. Two vols. 8vo. With 
 
 Portrait. (Uniform with Bright's Speeches.) 
 
 The Speeches contained in these two volumes have been selected and 
 
 edited at the instance of the Cobden Club. They form an important part 
 
 of that collective contribution to Political science which has conferred on 
 
 their author so vast a reputation. 
 
 Cooper. — ATHENE CANTABRIGIENSES. By Charles 
 
 Henry Cooper, F.S.A., and Thompson Cooper, F.S.A. 
 
 Vol. I. 8vo., 1500—85, i&r. ; Vol. II., 1586— 1609, i8j-. 
 
 This elaborate work, which is dedicated by permission to Lord Macaulay, 
 
 contains lives of the eminent men sent forth by Cambridge, after the 
 
 fashion of Anthony a Wood, in his famous " A thence Oxonienses." 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &* TRAVELS. 5 
 
 Cox (G. V., M. A.).— RECOLLECTIONS OF OXFORD. 
 By G. V. Cox, M.A., New College, Late Esquire Bedel and 
 Coroner in the University of Oxford. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 
 ioj. 6d. 
 
 "An amusing farrago of anecdote ; and will pleasantly recall in many 
 a country parsonage the ??icmory of youthful days." — Times. 
 
 11 Daily News."— the war correspondence of 
 
 THE DAILY NEWS, 1870. Edited, with Notes and Com- 
 ments, forming a Continuous Narrative of the War between 
 Germany and France. With Maps. Third Edition, revised. 
 Crown 8vo. 7^. 6d. 
 
 This volume brings before the public in a convenient and portable form 
 the record of the momentous events which have marked the last six months 
 of I870. 
 
 The special value of letters from camps and battle-fields consists in the 
 vividness ivith which they reproduce the life and spirit of the scenes and 
 transactions in the midst of which they are written. In the letters which 
 have appeared in the Daily News since the Franco-Prussian War, the 
 public has recognized this quality as present in an eminent degree. 
 
 The booh begins with a chronology of the zuar from July ajh, when the 
 French government called out the army reserves, to December qth ; the 
 detail es of the campaign are illustrated by four maps representing — I. The 
 ba'tles of Weissenburg and Worth. 2. The battles of Saarbriicken and 
 Speiecheren. 3. The battle-field before Sedan. 4. A plan of Metz and its 
 vicinity. 
 
 THE WAR CORRESPONDENCE OF TFIE DAILY NEWS 
 continued to the Peace. Edited, with Notes and Comments. 
 Second Edition, Crown 8vo. with Map, 7J. 6d. 
 
 Dicey (Edward).— THE MORNING LAND. By Edward 
 Dicey. Two vols, crown 8vo. 16s. 
 tl An invitation to be present at the opening of the Suez Canal was the 
 immediate cause of my journey. But I made it my object also to see as 
 much of the Morning La?id, of whose marvels the canal across the 
 Isthmus is only the least and latest, as time and opportunity 'would permit. 
 The result of my observations was communicated to the journal I then 
 represented, in a series of letters, which I now give to the public in a 
 collected form." — Extract from Author's Preface. 
 
GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Dilke.— GREATER BRITAIN. A Record of Travel in English- 
 speaking Countries during 1S66-J. (America, Australia, India.) 
 By Sir Charles Went worth Dilke, M. P. Fifth and Cheap 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 " Mr. Dilke has written a book which is probably as well worth reading 
 as any book of the same aims and character that ever was written. Its 
 merits are that it is written in a lively and agreeable style, that it implies 
 a great deal of physical pluck, that no page of it fails to show an acute and 
 highly intelligent observer, that it stimulates the imagination as well as the 
 judgment of the reader, and that it is on perhaps the most interesting 
 subject that can attract an Englishman who cares about his cowitry." 
 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 Diirer (Albrecht). — HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF AL- 
 
 BRECHT DURER, of Niirnberg. With a Translation of his 
 Letters and Journal, and some account of his works. By Mrs. 
 Charles Heaton. Royal 8vo. bevelled boards, extra gilt. 3U. 6d. 
 
 This work contains about Thirty Illustrations, ten of which are produc- 
 tions by the Autotype {carbon) process, and are printed in per ?nanent tints 
 by Messrs. Cundall and Fleming, under license from the Autotype Com- 
 pany, Limited ; the rest are Photographs and Woodcuts. 
 
 EARLY EGYPTIAN HISTORY FOR THE YOUNG. See 
 
 "Juvenile Section." 
 
 Elliott. — LIFE OF HENRY VENN ELLIOTT, of Brighton. 
 By Josiah Bateman, M.A., Author of "Life of Daniel Wilson, 
 Bishop of Calcutta," &c. With Portrait, engraved by Jeens ; 
 and an Appendix containing a short sketch of the life of the Rev. 
 Julius Elliott (who met with accidental death while ascending the 
 Schreckhorn in July, 1869. ) Crown 8vo. Ss. 6d. Second Edition, 
 with Appendix. 
 
 11 A very charming piece 0/ religious biography ; no one can read it 
 without both pleasure and profit." — British Quarterly Review. 
 
 EUROPEAN HISTORY, narrated in a Series of Historical 
 Selections from the best Authorities. Edited and arranged by 
 E. M. Sew ell and C. M. Yonge. First Series, crown 8vo. 6s. ; 
 Second Series, 1088-1228, crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY &- TRAVELS. 
 
 WJien young children have acquired (he outlines oj history from abridg- 
 ments and catechisms, and it becomes desirable to rive a more enlarged 
 view of the subject, in order to render it really useful and interesting, a 
 difficulty often arises as to the choice of books. Tzco courses are open, either 
 to take a general a?id consequently dry history of facts, such as Russell'' s 
 Modern Europe, or to choose some work treating of a particular period or 
 subject, such as the works of Macaulay and Fronde. The former course 
 usually renders history uninteresting ; the latter is unsatisfactory, because 
 it is not sufficiently comprehensive. To remedy this difficulty, selections, 
 continuous and chronological, have in the present volume been taken from 
 the larger works of Freeman, JMilman, Talgrave, and others, which mav 
 serve as distinct landmarks of historical reading. " We know of scarcely 
 anything," says the Guardian, of this volume, " which is so likely to raise 
 to a higher lez>el the average standard of English education.'''' 
 
 Fairfax.— A LIFE OF THE GREAT LORD FAIRFAX, 
 Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Parliament of England. 
 By Clements R. Markham, F.S.A. With Portraits, Maps, 
 Plans, and Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 16s. 
 No full Life of the great Parliamentary Commander has appeared ; 
 and it is here sought to produce one — based upon careful research in con- 
 temporary records and upon family and other documents, 
 
 " Highly useful to the careful student of the History of the Civil War. 
 . . Probably as a military chronicle Mr. Markham's book is one 
 of the most full and accurate that zee possess about the Civil War." — 
 Fortnightly Review. 
 
 Forbes. — LIFE OF PROFESSOR EDWARD FORBES, 
 
 F.R.S. By George Wilson, M.D., F.R.S.E., and Archibald 
 
 Geikie, F.R.S. 8vo. with Portrait, 14s. 
 
 "From the first page to tJie last the book claims caj'eful reading, as being 
 
 a full but not overcrowded rehearsal of a most instructive life, and the true 
 
 picture of a mind that zvas rare in strength and beauty." — Examiner. 
 
 Freeman.— history of federal government, 
 
 from the Foundation of the Achaian League to the Disruption of 
 the United States. Bv Edward A. Freeman, M.A. Vol. I. 
 General Introduction, History of the Greek Federations. 8vo. 
 
 2IS. 
 
 " The task Mr. Freeman has tmdertaken is one of great magnitude and 
 importance. It is also a task of an almost entirely novel character. No 
 
GENERAL CATALOGUE, 
 
 other work projessing to give the history of a political principle occurs io 
 its, except the slight contributions to the history of representative govern- 
 ment that is contained in a course of M. Guizofs lectures .... The 
 history of the development of a principle is at least as important as the 
 history of a dynasty ', or of a race." — Saturday Review. 
 
 OLD ENGLISH HISTORY. By Edward A. Freeman, M.A., 
 late Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford. With Five Coloured Maps. 
 Second Edition extra. Fcap. 8vo., half-bound. 6s, 
 
 11 Lts object is to show that clear, accurate, and scientific views of history, 
 or indeed of any subject, may be easily given to children from the very 
 first. . . I have, I hope, shown that it is perfectly easy to teach children, from 
 the very first, io distinguish true history alike from legend and from wilful 
 invention, and also to understand the nature of historical authorities, and 
 to weigh one statement against another. . . . . I have throughout striven to 
 conned the history of England with the general history of civilized Europe, 
 and I have especially tried to maize the book serve as an incentive to a more 
 accurate study of historical geography." — Preface. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF WELLS, 
 as illustrating the History of the Cathedral Churches of the Old 
 Foundation. By Edward A. Freeman, D.C.L., formerly Fellow 
 of Trinity College, Oxford. Crown 8vo. 3-r. 6d. 
 
 " I have here tried to treat the history of the Church of Wells as a con- 
 tribution to the general history of the Church and Kingdom of England, 
 and specially to the history of Cathedral Churches of the Old Foundation. 
 
 . . I wish io point out the general principles of the original founders as 
 the model to which the Old Foundations should be brought back, and the 
 New Foundations reformed after their pattern." — Preface. 
 
 French (George Russell). — SHAKSPEAREANA 
 
 GENEALOGICA. 8vo. cloth extra, 15*. Uniform with the 
 
 "Cambridge Shakespeare." 
 p art I.— Identification of the dramatis persons in the historical plays, 
 from King John to King Henry VIII. ; Notes on Characters in Macbeth 
 and Hamlet; Persons and Places belonging to Warwickshire alluded to. 
 Part II — The Shakspeare and Arden families and their connexions, with 
 Tables of descent. The present is the first attempt to give a detailed de- 
 scription, in consecutive order, of each of the dramatis personse in Shak- 
 speare } s immortal chronicle-histories, and some of the characters have been, 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, <S- TRAVELS. 
 
 it is believed, her em identified for the first ti?ne A clue is furnished which, 
 folhwed up with ordinary diligence, may enable any one, with a taste for 
 the pursuit, to trace a distinguished Shakspearean worthy to his lineal 
 representative in the present day. 
 
 Galileo.— the private life of Galileo. Compiled 
 
 principally from his Correspondence and that of his eldest 
 daughter, Sister Maria Celeste, Nun in the Franciscan Convent of 
 S. Matthew in Arcetri. With Portrait. Crown 8vo. Js. 6d. 
 
 It has been the endeavour of the compiler to place before the reader a 
 plain, ungarbled statement of facts ; and as a means to this end, to alloiu 
 Galileo, his friends, and his judges to speak for themselves as far as possible. 
 
 Gladstone (Right Hon. W. E., M.P.).— JUVENTUS 
 
 MUNDI. The Gods and Men of the Heroic Age. Crown 8vo. 
 cloth extra. With Map. io.r. 6d. Second Edition. 
 
 This nriu work of Mr. Gladstone deals especially with the historic 
 element in Homer, expounding that element and furnishing by its aid a 
 full account of the Homeric men and the Homeric religion. It starts, after 
 the introductory chapter, with a discussion of the srueral races then existing 
 in Hellas, including the influence of the Phoenicians and Egyptians. It 
 contains chapters on the Olympian system, with its several deities ; on the 
 Ethics and the Polity of the Heroic age ; on the geography of Homer ; on 
 the characters of the Poems ; presenting, in fine, a view of primitive life 
 and primitive society as found in the poems of Homer. To this A r ew 
 Edition various additions have been made. 
 
 " GLOBE" ATLAS OF EUROPE. Uniform in size with Mac- 
 millan's Globe Series, containing 45 Coloured Maps, on a uniform 
 scale and projection ; with Plans of London and Paris, and a 
 copious Index. Strongly bound in half-morocco, with flexible 
 back, 9J". 
 
 This Atlas includes all the countries of Europe in a series of 48 Maps, 
 drawn on the same scale, with an Alphabetical Index to the situation oj 
 more than ten thousand places, and the relation of the various maps and 
 countries to each other is defined in a general Key-map. All the maps 
 being 071 a unifor?ji scale facilitates the comparison of extent and distance, 
 and conveys a just impression of the relative magnitude of different countries. 
 The size suffices to show the provincial divisions, the railways and main 
 roads, the principal rivers and mountain ranges. "This atlas," writes the 
 
io GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 British Quarterly, "will be an invaluable boon for the school, the desk, or 
 the traveller 's portmanteau. " 
 
 Godkin (James).— THE LAND WAR IN IRELAND. A 
 
 History for the Times. By James Godkin, Author of ''Ireland 
 and her Churches," late Irish Correspondent of the Times. 8vo. \2s. 
 A History of the Irish Land Question. 
 
 Guizot. — (Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman.")— M. DE 
 BARANTE, a Memoir, Biographical and Autobiographical. By 
 INI. Guizot. Translated by the Author of "John Halifax, 
 Gentleman." Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d. 
 
 " The highest purposes of both history and biography are answered by a 
 memoir so lifelike, so faithful, and so philosophical. 1 '' 
 
 British Quarterly Review. 
 
 Hole.— A GENEALOGICAL STEMMA OF THE KINGS OF 
 ENGLAND AND FRANCE. By the Rev. C. Hole, M.A., 
 Trinity College, Cambridge. On Sheet, is. 
 The different families are printed in distinguishing colours, thus facili- 
 tating reference. 
 
 A BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY. Compiled and 
 Arranged by the Rev. Charles Hole, M.A. Second Edition. 
 i8mo. neatly and strongly bound in cloth. \s. 6d. 
 
 One of the most comprehensive and accurate Biographical Dictionaries 
 in the world, containing ?nore than 1 8, 000 persons of all countries, with 
 dates of birth and death, and what they were distinguished for. Extrejne 
 care has been bestowed on the verification of the dates ; and thus nui?ierous 
 errors, current in -previous works, have been corrected. Its size adapts it 
 for the desk, portmanteau, or pocket. 
 
 "An invaluable addition to our manuals of reference, and, from its 
 moderate pi'ice, cannot fail to become as popular as it is usefirt." — Times. 
 
 Hozier. — THE SEVEN WEEKS' WAR; Its Antecedents and 
 
 its Incidents. By H. M. Hozier. With Maps and Plans. Two 
 
 vols. 8vo. 2 8 j. 
 
 This work is based upon letters reprinted by permissmi from " The 
 
 Times. " For the most part it is a product of a personal eye-witness of some 
 
 of the ?nost interesting incidents of a war which, for rapidity and decisive 
 
 results, may claim an almost unrivalled position in history. 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &* TRAVELS. n 
 
 THE BRITISH EXPEDITION TO ABYSSINIA. Compiled from 
 Authentic Documents. By Captain Henry M. Hozier, late 
 Assistant Military Secretary to Lord. Napier of Magdala. 8vo. 9-f. 
 
 " Several accounts of the British Expedition have been published. .... 
 They have, however, been written by those who have not had access to those 
 authentic documents, which cannot be collected directly after the termination 
 
 of a campaign The endeavour of the author op this sketch has been t? 
 
 present to readers a succinct and impartial account oj an enterprise which 
 has rarely been equalled in the annals of war T — PREFACE. 
 
 Irving.— THE ANNALS OF OUR TIME. A Diurnal of Events, 
 Social and Political, which have happened in or had relation to 
 the Kingdom of Great Britain, from the Accession of Queen 
 Victoria to the Opening of the present Parliament. By Joseph 
 Irving. Second Edition, continued to the present time. 8vo. 
 half-bound. 18^. [Immediately. 
 
 a We have before us a trusty and ready guide to the events of the past 
 thirty years, available equally for the statesman, the politician, the public 
 writer, and the general reader. If Mr. Irving 'j* object has been to bring 
 before the reader all the most noteworthy occurrences which have happened 
 since the beginning of Her Majesty s reign, he may justly claim the credit 
 of having done so most briefly, succinctly, and simply, and in such a 
 manner, too, as to furnish him with the details necessary in each case to 
 comprehend the event of which he is in search in an intelligent manner. 
 Reflection will serve to show the great value oj such a work as this to the 
 journalist and statesman, and indeed to every one who feels an interest in 
 the progress of the age ; and we may add that its value is considerably 
 increased by the addition of that most important of all appendices, an 
 accurate and instructive index." — Times. 
 
 Kingsley (Canon). — ON THE ANCIEN REGIME as it 
 existed on the Continent before the French Revolution. 
 Three Lectures delivered at the Royal Institution. By the Rev. 
 C. Kingsley, M.A., formerly Professor of Modern History 
 in the University of Cambridge. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 These three lectures discuss severally (1) Caste, (2) Centralization, (3) 
 The Explosive Forces by which the Revolution was superinduced. The 
 Preface deals at some length with certain political questions of the present 
 day. 
 
12 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 THE ROMAN AND THE TEUTON. A Series of Lectures 
 delivered before the University of Cambridge. By Rev. C. 
 Kingsley, M.A. 8vo. I2S. 
 
 Contents :— Inaugural Lecture ; The Forest Children ; The Dying 
 Empire; The Hiunan Deluge ; The Gothic Civilizer; Dietrich's End; The 
 Nemesis of the Goths ; Pauhis Diaconus ; The Clergy and the Lleathen ; 
 The Monk a Civilizer ; The Lombard Laws ; The Popes and the Lombards ; 
 The Strategy of Providence. 
 
 Kingsley (Henry, F.R.G.S.).— TALES OF OLD 
 TRAVEL. Re-narrated by Henry Kingsley, F.R.G.S. With 
 Eight Illustratio7is by Huard. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 CONTENTS:— Marco Polo; The Shipwreck of Pelsart ; The Wonderful 
 Adventures of Andrew Battel; The Wanderings of a Capuchin; Peter 
 Carder; The Preservation of the " 'Terra Nova ;" Spitzbergen ; DErme- 
 nonville's Acclimatization Adventure; The Old Slave Trade ; Miles Philips ; 
 The Sufferings of Robei-t Everard ; John Fox; Alvaro Nunez; The Foun- 
 dation of a7i Em-hire. 
 
 Latham. — BLACK AND WHITE : A Journal of a Three Months' 
 Tour in the United States. By Henry Latham, M. A., Barrister- 
 at-Law. 8vo. ioj. 6d. 
 " The spirit in which Air. Latham has written about our brethren in 
 
 America is commendable in high degree." — Athenaeum. 
 
 Law. — THE ALPS OF HANNIBAL. By William John Law, 
 
 M.A., formerly Student of Christ Church, Oxford. Two vols, 
 
 8vo. 21 s. 
 
 "No one can read the woi'k and not acquire a conviction that, in 
 
 addition to a thorough grasp of a particular topic, its writer has at 
 
 command a large store of- reading and thought upon many cognate points 
 
 of ancient history and geography •," — Quarterly Review. 
 
 Liverpool. — THE LIFE AND ADMINISTRATION OF 
 ROBERT BANKS, SECOND EARL OF LIVERPOOL, K.G. 
 Compiled from Original Family Documents by Charles Duke 
 Yonge, Regius Professor of History and English Literature in 
 Queen's College, Belfast ; and Author of " The History of the 
 British Navy," "The History of France under the Bourbons," etc. 
 Three vols. 8vo. \is. 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVELS. 13 
 
 Since the time of Lord Burleigh no one> except the second Pitt, ever 
 enjoyed so long a temire of power ; with the sanie exception, no one ever 
 held office at so critical a time .... Lord Liverpool is the very last 
 minister who has been able fully to carry out his own political views ; who 
 has been so strong that in matters of general policy the Opposition could 
 extort no cojicessions from him which were not sanctioned by his ozv?i 
 deliberate judgment. The present work is founded almost entirely on the 
 correspondence left behind him by Lord Liverpool, and now in the possession 
 of Colonel and Lady Catherifie Ilarcourt. 
 
 "Full of information and instruction" — Fortnightly Review. 
 
 Macmillan (Rev. Hugh). — HOLIDAYS ON HIGH 
 
 LANDS ; or, Rambles and Incidents in search of Alpine Plants. 
 By the Rev. Hugh Macmillan, Author of " Bible Teachings in 
 Nature," etc. Crown 8vo. cloth. 6s. 
 
 " Botanical knowledge is blended with a love of nature, a pious en- 
 thusiasm, and a rich felicity of diction not to be met with in any works 
 of kindred character, if we except those of Hugh Miller." — Daily 
 Telegraph. 
 
 FOOT-NOTES FROM THE PAGE OF NATURE. With 
 
 numerous Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo. ^s. 
 
 " Those who have derived pleasure and profit from the study of flowers 
 and ferns — subjects, it is pleasing to find, now everywhere popular — by 
 descending lower into the arcana of the vegetable kingdom, will find a still 
 more interesting and delightful field of research in the objects brought under 
 reviezv in the following pages." — Preface. 
 
 BIBLE TEACHINGS IN NATURE. Fifth Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Martin (Frederick) — the STATESMAN'S YEAR-BOOK : 
 
 A Statistical and Historical Account of the States of the Civilized 
 World. Manual for Politicians and Merchants for the year 1871. 
 By Frederick Martin. Eighth Amiual Publication. Crown 
 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 The neiv issue has been entirely re-zuritten, revised, and corrected, 071 the 
 basis of official reports received direct from the heads of the leading Govern- 
 ments of the World, in reply to letters sent to them by the Editor. 
 
14 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Martin (Frederick). — [continued}— 
 
 "Everybody who knows this work is aware that it is a book that is indis- 
 pensable to writers, financiers, politicians, statesmen, and all who are 
 directly or indirectly interested in the political, social, industrial, com- 
 mercial, and financial condition of their fellow -creatures at home and 
 abroad. Mr. Martin deserves warm commendation for the care he takes 
 in making ' The Statesman s Year Book'' complete and correct '." 
 
 Standard. 
 
 HANDBOOK OF CONTEMPORARY BIOGRAPHY. By 
 Frederick Martin, Author of "The Statesman's Year-Book. " 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 This volume is an attempt to produce a book of reference, furnishing in 
 a condensed form some biographical particulars of notable living men. 
 The leading idea has been to give only facts, and those in the brief est form, 
 and to exclude opinions. 
 
 Martineau. — biographical sketches, 1852— ii 
 
 By Harriet Martineau. Third and cheaper Edition, with 
 New Preface. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 A Collection of Memoirs under these several sections: — (i) Royal, (2) 
 Politicians, (3) Professional, (4) Scientific, (5) Social, (6) Literary. These 
 Memoirs appeared originally in the columns of the " Daily News." 
 
 Milton. — LIFE OF JOHN MILTON. Narrated in connexion 
 with the Political, Ecclesiastical, and Literary History of his 
 Time. By David Masson, M.A., LL.D., Professor of Rhetoric 
 at Edinburgh. Vol. I. with Portraits. 8vo. i8j. Vol. II. in a 
 few days. — Vol. III. in the Press. 
 
 // is intended to exhibit Milton's life in its co7inexions with all the more 
 notable phenomena of the period of British history in which it zvas cast — 
 its state politics, its ecclesiastical variations, its literature and speculative 
 thought. Commencing in 1608, the Life of Milton proceeds through the 
 last sixteen years of the reign of James I. , includes the whole of the reign 
 of Charles I. and the subsequent years of the Commonwealth and the 
 Protectorate, and then, passing the Restoration, extends itself to 1 674, or 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &* TRAVELS. 15 
 
 through fourteen years of the new state of things under Charles II. The 
 first volu?ne deals with the life of Milton as extending from 1608 to 1640, 
 which was the period of his education and of his minor poems. 
 
 Mitford (A. B).— TALES OF OLD JAPAN. By A. B. 
 Mitford, Second Secretary to the British Legation in Japan. 
 With upwards of 30 Illustrations, drawn and cut on Wool by 
 Japanese Artists. Two vols, crown 8vo. 21s. 
 
 This work is an attempt to do for Japan what Sir J. Davis, Dr. Lfg^e, 
 and M. Stanislas Julien, have done for China. Under the influence oj 
 more enlightened ideas and of a liberal system of policy, the old Japanese 
 civilization is fast disappearing, and will, in a few years, be completely 
 extinct. It was important, therefore, to preserve as far as possible trust- 
 worthy records of a state of society which although venerable from its anti- 
 quity, has for Europeans the dawn of novelty ; hence the series of narra- 
 tives and legends translated by Mr. Mitford, and in which the Japanese 
 are very judiciously left to tell their own tale. The two volu?nes comprise 
 not only stories and episodes illustrative of Asiatic superstitions ', but also 
 three sermons. The preface, appendices, and notes explain a number oj 
 local peculitirities ; the thirty-one woodcuts are the genuine work of a native 
 artist, who, unconsciously of course, has adopted the process first introduced 
 by the early German masters. 
 
 Morley (John).— EDMUND BURKE, a Historical Study By 
 John Morley, B.A. Oxon. Crown 8vo. *js: 6d. 
 
 " The style is terse and incisive, and brilliant with epigram and point. 
 It contains pithy aphoristic sentences which Burke himself would not have? 
 
 Morison.— THE LIFE AND TIMES OF SAINT BERNARD, 
 Abbot of Clairvaux. By James Cotter Morison, M.A. New 
 Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 7^. 6d. 
 
 " One of the best contributions in our literature towards a vivid, intel- 
 ligent, and worthy knowledge of European interests and thoughts and 
 feelings during the twelfth century. A delightful and instructive volume, 
 and one of the best products of the modern historic spirit." 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
i6 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 disow?ted. But these are not its best features: its sustained power of 
 reasoning, its wide sweep of observation and reflection, its elevated ethical 
 a?id social tone, stamp it as a work of high excellence, and as such we 
 cordially recommend it to our readers.'" — Saturday Review. 
 
 Mullinger. — CAMBRIDGE CHARACTERISTICS IN THE 
 SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. By J. B. Mullinger, B.A. 
 Crown 8vo. 4-r. 6d. 
 
 " // is a very e?itertaini7ig and readable book,''' — Saturday Review. 
 
 " The chapters on the Cartesian Philosophy a7id the Cambridge Platonists 
 are admirable" — Athenaeum. 
 
 Palgrave. — HISTORY OF NORMANDY AND OF ENG- 
 LAND. By Sir Francis Palgrave, Deputy Keeper of Her 
 •Majesty's Public Records. Completing the History to the Death 
 of William Rufus. Four vols. 8vo. £\ /[s. 
 
 Volume I. General Relations of Mediceval Europe — The Carlovingian 
 Empire — The Danish Expeditions in the Gauls — And the Establishment 
 of Rollo. Volume II. The Three First Dukes of Normandy ; Rollo, 
 Guillaimie Longue-Epee, and Richard Sans-Peur — The Carlovingian 
 line supplanted by the Capets. Volu?ne III. Richard Sans-Peur — 
 Richard Le-Bon — Richard III. — Robert Le Diable — William the Con- 
 queror. Volume IV. William Rufus — Accession of Henry Beauclerc. 
 
 Palgrave (W. G.). — A NARRATIVE OF A YEAR'S 
 JOURNEY THROUGH CENTRAL AND EASTERN 
 ARABIA, 1862-3. By William Gifford Palgrave, late of 
 the Eighth Regiment Bombay N. I. Fifth and cheaper Edition. 
 With Maps, Plans, and Portrait of Author, engraved on steel by 
 Jeens. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 " Considering the extent of our previous ignorance, the amount of his 
 achievements, and the importance 0/ his contributions to our knowledge, we 
 cannot say less of him than was once said of a far greater discoverer. 
 Mr. Redgrave has indeed given a new world to Europe." 
 
 Pall Mail Gazette. 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &* TRAVELS. 17 
 
 Parkes (Henry).— AUSTRALIAN VIEWS OF ENGLAND. 
 By Henry Parkes. Crown 8vo. cloth. 3^ 61. 
 
 " The follozving letters were written during a residence in England, in 
 the years 1 86 1 and 1862, and were published in the "Sydney Morning 
 Herald" on the arrival of the monthly mails .... On re-perusal, these 
 letters appear to contain viezas of English life and impressions of English 
 notabilities which, as the viezvs and impressions of an English?na?t on his 
 retuim to his native country after an absence of twenty years, may not be 
 without interest to the English reader. The wi'iter had opportunities of 
 mixing with different classes of the British people, and of hearing opinions 
 on passing events from opposite standpoints of observationy — Author's 
 Preface. 
 
 Prichard.— THE ADMINISTRATION OF INDIA. From 
 1S59 to 1868. The First Ten Years of Administration under the 
 Crown. By Iltudus Thomas Prichard, Barrister-at-Law. 
 Two vols. Demy 8vo. With Map. 21s. 
 
 In these volumes the author has aimed to supply a full, impartial, and 
 independent account of British India belzveen 1859 and 1868 — which is 
 in many respects the most i?nportant epoch in the history of that country 
 which the present century has seen. 
 
 Ralegh.— THE LIFE OF SIR WALTER RALEGH, based 
 upon Contemporary Documents. By Edward Edwards. To- 
 gether with Ralegh's Letters, now first collected. With Portrait. 
 Two vols. 8vo. 32j-. 
 
 " Mr. Edwards has certainly written the Life of Ralegh from fuller 
 information than any previous biographer. He is intelligent, industrious, 
 sympathetic : and the world has in his two volumes larger means afforded 
 it of knoiving Ralegh than it ever possessed before. The new letters and 
 the nrtvly-edited old letters are in themselves a boon." — Pall Mall 
 Gazette. 
 
 Robinson (Crabb).— DIARY, REMINISCENCES, AND 
 CORRESPONDENCE OF HENRY CRABB ROBINSON. 
 Selected and Edited by Dr. Sadler. With Portrait. Second 
 Edition. Three vols. 8vo. cloth. 36^. 
 
 B 
 
1 8 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Mr. Crabb Robinson' 1 s Diary extends over the greater part of three- 
 quarters of a century. It contains personal reminiscences of some of the 
 most distinguished characters of that period, including Goethe, Wieland, De 
 Quincey, Wordsworth (with whom Mr. Crabb Robinson was on terms of 
 great intimacy), Madame de Stael, Lafayette, Coleridge, Lamb, Milman, 
 &C. &c. : and includes a vast variety of subjects, political, literary, ecclesi- 
 astical, and ?niscellaneous. 
 
 Rogers (James E. Thorold).— HISTORICAL GLEAN- 
 INGS : A Series of Sketches. Montague, Walpole, Adam Smith, 
 Cobbett. By Professor Rogers. Crown 8vo. ^s. 6d. 
 
 Professor Rogers's object in the following sketches is to present a set of 
 historical facts, grouped round a principal figure. The essays are in the 
 for??i of lectures. 
 
 HISTORICAL GLEANINGS. Second Series. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 A companion volume to the First Series recently published. It contains 
 papers on Wiklifi La? id, Wilkes, Home Tooke. In these lectures the 
 author has aimed to state the social facts of the time in which the individual 
 whose history is handled took part in public business. 
 
 Smith (Professor Goldwin). — THREE ENGLISH 
 STATESMEN : PYM, CROMWELL, PITT. A Course of 
 Lectures on the Political History of England. By Goldwin 
 Smith, M. A. Extra fcap. 8vo. New and Cheaper Edition. $s. 
 
 li A work which neither historian nor politician can safely afford to 
 mglect." — Saturday Review. 
 
 SYSTEMS OF LAND TENURE IN VARIOUS COUNTRIES. 
 A Series of Essays published under the sanction of the Cobden 
 Club. Demy 8vo. Second Edition. 12s. 
 
 The subjects treated are:—i. Tenure oj Land in Ireland; 2. Land 
 Laws of England ; 3. Tenure of land in India ; 4. Land System of 
 Belgium a?id Holland ; 5. Agrarian Legislation of Prussia during the 
 Present Century; 6. Land System of France ; 7. Russian Agrarian 
 Legislation of 1861 ; 8. Farm Land and Laud Laws of the United 
 States. 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &> TRAVELS. 19 
 
 Tacitus.— THE HISTORY OF TACITUS, translated into 
 English. By A. J. Church, M.A. and W. J. Brodribb, M.A. 
 With a Map and Notes. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 The translators have endeavoured to adhere as closely to the original as 
 %uas thought consistent with a proper observance of English idio7n. At 
 the same time it has been their aim to reproduce the precise expressions of 
 the author. This work is characterised by the Spectator as " a scholarly 
 and faithful translation" 
 
 THE AGRICOLA AND GERMANIA. Translated into English by 
 A. J. Church, M.A. and W. J. Brodribb, M.A. With Maps 
 and Notes. Extra fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 The translators have sought to produce such a version as may satisfy 
 scholars who demand a faithful rendering of the original, and English 
 readers zvho are offended by the baldness and frigidity which commonly 
 disfigure translations. The treatises are acco?npanied by introductions, 
 notes, maps, and a chronological summary. The Athenaeum says of 
 this work that it is " a version at once readable and exact, zvhich may be 
 perused with pleasure by all, and consulted with advantage by the classical 
 student.'''' 
 
 Taylor (Rev. Isaac).— WORDS AND PLACES; or 
 
 Etymological Illustrations of History, Etymology, and Geography. 
 By the Rev. Isaac Taylor. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 
 \2s. 6d. 
 
 " Mr. Taylor has produced a really useful book, and one which stands 
 alone in our language.'''' — Saturday Review. 
 
 Trench (Archbishop).— GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS : Social 
 Aspects of the Thirty Years' War. By R. Chenevix Trench, 
 D.D., Archbishop of Dublin. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 " Clear and lucid in style, these lectures will be a treasure to many to 
 whom the subject is unfamiliar." — Dublin Evening Mail. 
 
 Trench (Mrs. R.).— Remains of the late Mrs. RICHARD 
 TRENCH. Being Selections from her Journals, Letters, aid 
 other Papers. Edited by Archbishop Trench. New and 
 Cheaper Issue, vith Portrait, 8vo. 6s. * m 
 
 B 2 
 
2o GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Contains notices and cmiecdotes illustrating the social life of the period 
 — extending over a quarter of a century (1799 — 1827). It includes also 
 poems and other mis cella7ieous pieces by Mrs. Trench. 
 
 Trench (Capt. F., F.R.G.S.).— the russo-indian 
 
 QUESTION, Historically, Strategically, and Politically con- 
 sidered. By Capt. Trench, F.R.G.S. With a Sketch of Central 
 Asiatic Politics and Map of Central Asia. Crown 8vo. Js. 6d. 
 
 " The Russo-Indian, or Central Asian question has for several obvious 
 reasons been attracting much public attention in England, in Russia, and 
 also on the Coiitinent, within the last year or two. . . . I have thought 
 that the present volume, giving a short sketch of the history of this question 
 from its earliest origin, and condensing much of the most recent and inte- 
 resting information on the subject, and on its collateral phases, might 
 perhaps be acceptable to those who take an interest in it." — Author's 
 Preface. 
 
 Trevelyan (G.O., M.P.). — CAWNPORE. Illustrated with 
 Plan. By G. O. Trevelyan, M.P., Author of " The Com- 
 petition Wallah." Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 11 In this book zve are not spared one fact of the sad story ; but our 
 feelings are not harrowed by the recital of imaginary outrages. It is 
 good for us at hotne that we have one who tells his tale so well as does 
 Mr. Trevelyan." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 THE COMPETITION WALLAH. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6j. 
 " The earlier letters are especially interesting for their racy descriptions 
 
 of European life in India Those that follow are of more serious 
 
 import, seeking to tell the truth about the Hindoo character and English 
 influences, good and bad, upon it, as well as to suggest so?ne better course of 
 treatment than that hitherto adopted" — Examiner. 
 
 Vaughan (late Rev. Dr. Robert, of the British 
 
 Quarterly).— MEMOIR OF ROBERT A. VAUGHAN. 
 Author of "Hours with the Mystics." By Robert Vaughan, 
 D.D. Second Edition, revised and enlarged. Extra fcap. 8vo. $s. 
 
 te It deserves a place on the same shelf with Stanley's ' Life of Arnold, ' 
 and Carlyle's 'Stirling' Dr. Vaughan has performed his painful but 
 not all unpleasing task with exquisite good taste and feeling." — Noncon- 
 formist. 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVEIS. 21 
 
 Wagner. — memoir of the rev. george wagner, 
 
 M.A., late Incumbent of St. Stephen's Church, Brighton. By the 
 Rev. J. N. Simpkinson, M.A. Third and Cheaper Edition, cor- 
 rected and abridged. $s. 
 
 11 A more edifying biography zve have rarely met withy — Literary 
 Churchman. 
 
 Wallace.— THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO: the Land of the 
 Orang Utan and the Bird of Paradise. A Narrative of Travel 
 with Studies of Man and Nature. By Alfred Russel Wallace. 
 With Maps and Illustrations. Second Edition. Two vols, crown 
 8vo. 2\s. 
 
 "A carefully and deliberately composed narrative. . . . We advise 
 oar readers to do as zve have done, read his book through" — Times. 
 
 Ward (Professor).— THE HOUSE OF AUSTRIA IN THE 
 THIRTY YEARS' WAR. Two Lectures, with Notes and Illus- 
 trations. By Adolphus W. W t ard, M.A., Professor of History 
 in Owens College, Manchester. Extra fcap. Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 41 Very compact and instructive." — Fortnightly Review. 
 
 Warren.— AN ESSAY ON GREEK FEDERAL COINAGE, 
 By the Hon. J. Leicester Warren, M.A. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 " The present essay is an attempt to illustrate Mr. Freemaif s Federal 
 Governnient by evidence deduced from the coinage of the times and countries 
 therein treated of" — Preface. 
 
 WedgWOOd. — JOHN WESLEY AND THE EVANGELICAL 
 
 REACTION of the Eighteenth Century. By Julia Wedgwood. 
 Crown Svo. 8s. 6d. 
 
 This booh is an attempt to delineate the influence of a particular man 
 upon his age. 
 
 Wilson.— A MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON, M. D., 
 F.R.S.E., Regius Professor of Technology in the University of 
 Edinburgh. By his Sister. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 "An exquisite and touching portrait of a rare and beautiful spirit." — 
 
 Guardian. 
 
22 i GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Wilson (Daniel, LL.D.). — PREHISTORIC ANNALS 
 OF SCOTLAND. By Daniel Wilson, LL.D., Professor of 
 History and English Literature in University College, Toronto. 
 New Edition, with numerous Illustrations. Two vols, demy 
 8vo. 36s. 
 
 This elaborate and learned work is divided into four Parts. Part I. 
 deals with The Primeval or Stone Period : Aboriginal Traces, Sepulchral 
 Memorials, Dwellings, and Catacombs, Temples, Weapons, &c. &c. ; 
 Part II, The Bronze Period : The Metallurgic Transition, Primitive 
 Bronze, Perso7ial 0?'na??ients, Religion, Arts, and Domestic Habits, with 
 other topics ; Part III., The Iron Period : The Introduction of Iron, The 
 Roma?i Invasion, Strongholds, &>c. &*c; Part IV., The Christian Period : 
 Historical Data, the Norriis Law Relics, Primitive and Medieval 
 Ecclesiology, Ecclesiastical and Miscellaneous Antiquities. The work is 
 furnished with an elaborate Index. 
 
 PREHISTORIC MAN. New Edition, revised and partly re- written, 
 with numerous Illustrations. One vol. 8vo. 2ls. 
 
 This work, which carries out the principle of the preceding one, but tuilh 
 a wider scope, aims to " view Man, as far as possible, tinaffected by those 
 modifying influences which acco?npany the development of nations and the 
 maturity of a true histo7'ic period, i?i order thereby to ascertain the sources 
 from whence such development and maturity proceed." It contains, for 
 example, chapters on the Primeval Transition ; Speech ; Metals ; the 
 Mound- Builders ; Primitive Architecture ; the American Type; the Red 
 Blood of the West, &c. &c. 
 
 CHATTERTON: A Biographical Study. By Daniel Wilson, 
 LL.D., Professor of History and English Literature in University 
 College, Toronto. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d. 
 
 The Author here regards Chatter ton as a Poet, not as a "mere resetter 
 and defacer of stolen literary treasures. " Reviewed in this light, he has 
 found much in the old materials capable of being turned to new account ; 
 and to these materials research in various directions has enabled htm to 
 make some additions. 
 
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &> TRAVELS. 23 
 
 Yonge (Charlotte M.)— a parallel HISTORY OF 
 
 FRANCE AND ENGLAND: consisting of Outlines and Dates. 
 
 By Charlotte M. Yonge, Author of "The Heir of Redely fie," 
 
 " Cameos from English History," &c. &c. Oblong 4to. 3.V. 6d. 
 
 This tabular history has been drawn up to supply a want felt by many 
 
 teachers of some means of making their pupils realize what events in the 
 
 two countries were contemporary. A skeleton narrative has been constructed 
 
 of the chief transactions in either country, placing a column between for 
 
 what affected both alike, by which means it is hoped that young people may 
 
 be assisted in grasping the mutual relation of events \ 
 
SECTION II. 
 
 POETRY AND BELLES LETTRE3. 
 
 Allingham.— LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND 
 or, the New Landlord. By William Allingham. New and 
 Cheaper Issue, with a Preface. Fcap. 8vo. cloth, 4s. 6d. 
 
 In the new Preface, the state of Ireland, with special reference to the 
 Church measure, is discussed. 
 
 ' ' It is vital with the national character. . . . It has something of Pope's 
 point and Goldsmiths simplicity, touched to a more modern issue.'" — 
 ATHENiEUM. 
 
 Arnold (Matthew).— POEMS. By Matthew Arnold. 
 Two vols. Extra fcap. 8vo. cloth. \2s. Also sold separately at 6s. 
 each. 
 
 Volume I. contains Narrative and Elegiac Poems ; Volume II. Dra- 
 matic and Lyric Poems. The two volumes comprehend the First and 
 Second Series of the Poems, and the New Poems. 
 
 -NEW POEMS. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 6d. 
 
 In this volume will be found" Empedocles on Etna ; " " Thyrsis " (written 
 in commemoration of the late Professor C lough) ; " Epilogue to Lessing's 
 Laocoou ;" " Heme's Grave;'''' " Obermann once ??wre." All these 
 poe?ns are also included in the Edition {two vols. ) above-mentioned. 
 
 ESSAYS IN CRITICISM. New Edition, with Additions. Extra 
 fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 Contents : — Preface ; The Function of Criticis??i at the present time ; 
 The Literary Influence of Academies ; Maurice de Guerin ; Eugenie 
 de Guerin ; Heinrich Heine ; Pagan and Mediceval Religious Sentiment; 
 Joubert ; Spinoza and the Bible ; Marcus Aurelius. 
 
POETRY &> BELLES LET f RES. 25 
 
 ASPROMONTE, AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. Svo. cloth 
 extra. 4^. 6d. 
 
 CONTENTS : — Poems for Italy ; Dramatic Lyrics ; Miscellaneous. 
 
 " Uncoi?imon lyrical power and deep poetic feeling" — Literary 
 Churchman. 
 
 Barnes (Rev. W.). — POEMS OF RURAL LIFE IN COM- 
 MON ENGLISH. By the Rev. W. Barnes, Author of 
 " Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect." Fc?.p. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 " In a high degree pleasant and novel. The book is by no means one 
 which the lovers of descriptive poetry can afford to lose." — Athenaeum. 
 
 Bell. — ROMANCES AND MINOR POEMS. By Henry 
 Glassford Bell. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 " Full of life and genius." — Court Circular. 
 
 Besant. — STUDIES IN EARLY FRENCH POETRY. By 
 Walter Besant, M.A. Crown. 8vo. 8s. 6d. 
 
 A sort of impression rests on most minds that French literature begins 
 with the " siecle de Louis Quatorze ;" any previous literature being for 
 the most part unknown or ignored. Few know anything of the enormous 
 literary activity that began in the thirteenth century ', zuas carried on by 
 Rulcbeuf, Marie de France, Gaston de Foix, Thibault de Champagne^ 
 and Lorris ; was fostered by Charles of Orleans, by Margaret of Valois, 
 by Francis the First ; that gave a crowd of versifiers to France, enriched, 
 strengthened, developed, a 71 d fixed the French language, and prepared the 
 way for Comeille and for Racine. The present work aims to afford 
 informatio7i and direction touching the early efforts of France in poetical 
 literature. 
 
 " In one moderately sized voluine he has contrived to introduce us to the 
 very best, if not to all of the early French poets." — Athenaeum. 
 
 Bradshaw.— AN ATTEMPT TO ASCERTAIN THE STATE 
 OF CHAUCER'S WORKS, AS THEY WERE LEFT AT 
 HIS DEATH. With some Notes of their Subsequent History. 
 By Henry Bradshaw, of King's College, and the University 
 Library, Cambridge. In the Tress. 
 
26 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Brimley.— ESSAYS BY THE LATE GEORGE BRIMLEY, 
 M.A. Edited by the Rev. W. G. Clark, M.A. With Portrait. 
 Cheaper Edition. Fcap. 8vo. $s. 6d. 
 
 Essays on literary topics, such as Tennyson s "Poems," Carlyle's 
 "Lire of Stirling;' "Bleak House," &c, reprinted from Fraser, the 
 Spectator, and like periodicals. 
 
 Broome.— THE STRANGER OF SERIPHOS. A Dramatic 
 Poem. By Frederick Napier Broome. Fcap. 8vo. ^s. 
 
 Founded on the Greek legend of Danae and Perseus. 
 
 "Grace and beauty oj expression are Mr. Broome s characteristics; 
 and these qualities are displayed in many passages. " — Athenaeum. 
 
 Church (A. J.).— HORiE TENNYSONIANiE, Sive Eclogue 
 e Tennysono Latin e redditae. Cura A. J. Church, A.M. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Latin versions of Selections from Tennyson. Among the authors are 
 the Editor, the late Professor Coningion, Professor Seeley, Dr. Hessey, 
 Mr. Kebbel, and other gentlemen. 
 
 Clough (Arthur Hugh).— THE POEMS AND PROSE 
 REMAINS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. With a 
 Selection from his Letters and a Memoir. Edited by his Wife. 
 With Portrait. Two vols, crown 8vo. 2\s. Or Poems sepa- 
 rately, as below. 
 
 The late Professor Clough is well known as a graceful, tender poet, 
 and as the scholarly translator of Plutarch. The letters possess high 
 interest, not biographical only, but liter a?y — disctissing, as they do, the 
 most important questions of the time, always in a genial spi7'it. The 
 "Remains" include papers on " Retrenchment at Oxford ;" on Professor 
 F. W. Nezvman's book " The Soul f on Wordsworth ; on the Formation 
 of Classical English ; on some Modern Poems (Matthew Arnold and the 
 late Alexander S??iith), &°<r. &-'c. 
 
 THE POEMS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH, sometime Fellow 
 of Oriel College, Oxford. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
POETRY 5r> BELLES LE TERES. 27 
 
 " From the higher mind of cultivated, all-questioning, but still conser- 
 vative England, in this our puzzled generation, tve do not know of any 
 utterance in literature so characteristic as the poems of Arthur Hugh 
 Clough." — Fraser's Magazine. 
 
 Dante.— DANTE'S COMEDY, THE HELL. Translated by 
 W. M. Rossetti. Fcap. 8vo. cloth. 5^. 
 
 " The aifii of this translation of Dante may be summed up in one word 
 — Literality. . . . To follow Dante sentence for sentence, line for line, 
 word for word — neither more nor less — has been my strenuous endeavour " 
 — Author's Preface. 
 
 De Vere. — THE INFANT BRIDAL, and other Toems. By 
 Aubrey De Vere. Fcap. 8vo. *js. 6d. 
 "Afr. De Vere has taken his place among the poets of the day. Pure 
 and tender feeling, and that polished restraint of style which is called 
 classical, are the charms of the volume." — Spectator. 
 
 Doyle (Sir F. H.). — Works by Sir Francis Hastings Doyle, 
 Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford : — ■ 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE GUARDS, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 Fcap. 8vo. Js. 
 " Good wine needs no bush, nor good verse a preface ; and Sir Francis 
 Doyle's verses run bright and clear, and smack of a classic vintage. . . . 
 His chief characteristic, as it is his greatest charm, is the simple manliness 
 which gives force to all he writes. It is a characteristic in these days rare 
 enough. " — Examiner. 
 
 LECTURES ON POETRY, delivered before the University of 
 Oxford in 1868. Crown 8vo. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Three Lectures : — (1) Inaugural ; (2) Provincial Poetry ; (3) Dr. 
 Newmarfs "Dream of Gerontius!' 
 
 "Full of thoughtful discrimination and fine insight: the lecture on 
 1 Provincial Poetry'' seems to us singularly true, eloquent, and instructive! 
 — Spectator. 
 
 Evans. — BROTHER FABIAN'S MANUSCRIPT, AND 
 OTHER POEMS. By Sebastian Evans. Fcap. 8vo. cloth. 
 6s. 
 
28 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 " In this volume we have full assurance that he has ' the vision and the 
 faculty divine' . . . Clever and full of kindly humour."— Globe. 
 
 Furnivall.— LE MORTE D' ARTHUR. Edited from the Harleian 
 M.S. 2252, in the British Museum. By F. J. Furnivall. M.A. 
 With Essay by the late Herbert Coleridge. Fcap. 8vo. p. 6d. 
 
 Looking to the interest shown by so many thousands in Mr. Tennyson's 
 Arthurian poems, the editor and publishers have thought that the old 
 version would possess considerable interest. It is a reprint of the celebrated 
 Harleian copy ; and is accompanied by index and glossary. 
 
 Garnett.— IDYLLS AND EPIGRAMS. Chiefly from the Greek 
 Anthology. By Richard Garnett. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 "A charming tittle book. For English readers, Mr. Garnett 1 s transla- 
 lations will open a new world of thought" — Westminster Review. 
 
 GUESSES AT TRUTH. By Two Brothers. With Vignette, 
 Title, and Frontispiece. New Edition, with Memoir. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 11 The following year was memorable for the comnmicement of the 
 1 Guesses at Truth.'* He and his Oxford brother, living as they did in 
 constant and free interchange of thought on questions of philosophy and 
 literature and art ; delighting, each of them, in the epigrammatic terseness 
 which is the charm of the ' Pensees ' of Pascal, and the ' Caracteres ' of La 
 Bruyere — agreed to titter themselves in this form, and the book appeared, 
 anonymously, in tzvo volumes, in 1827." — Memoir. 
 
 Hamerton. — A PAINTER'S CAMP. By Philip Gilbert 
 Hamerton. Second Edition, revised. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Book I. In England; Book II. In Scotland; Book III. In France. 
 This is the story of an Artist's encampments and adventures. The 
 headings of a few chapters may serve to convey a notion of the character 
 of the book: A Walk on the Lancashire Moors ; the Author his own 
 Housekeeper and Cook ; Tents and Boats for the Highlands ; The Attthor 
 encamps 011 an uninhabited Island ; A Lake Voyage ; A Gipsy Journey 
 to Glen Coe ; Concerning Moonlight and Old Castles ; A little French 
 City ; A Farm in the Auhmois, &c. &c. 
 
POETRY &* BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 29 
 
 " His pages sparkle with many turns of expression, not a few well -told 
 anecdotes, and many observations which are the fruit of attentive study and 
 wise reflection on the complicated phenomena of human life, as well as op 
 unconscious nature? 1 — Westminster Review. 
 
 ETCHING AND ETCHERS. A Treatise Critical and Practical. 
 By P. G. Hamerton. With Original Plates by Rembrandt, 
 Callot, Dujardin, Paul Potter, &c. Royal 8vo. Half 
 morocco. 31^. 6d. 
 
 11 It is a work of which author, printer, and publisher may alike feel 
 proud. It is a work, too, of which none but a genuine artist could bv 
 possibility have been the author P — Saturday Review. 
 
 Herschel. — THE ILIAD OF HOMER. Translated into English 
 Hexameters. By Sir John Herschel, Bart. 8vo. i&r. 
 
 A version of the Iliad in English Hexameters. The question of Homeric 
 translation is fully discussed in the Preface. 
 
 li It is admirable, not only for many intrinsic merits, but as a great 
 man } s tribute to Genius." — Illustrated London News. 
 
 HIATUS : the Void in Modern Education. Its Cause and Antidote. 
 By Outis. 8vo. Ss. 6d. 
 
 The main object of this Essay is to point out how the emotional element 
 which underlies the Eine Arts is disregarded and undeveloped at this time 
 so far as {despite a pretence at filling it up) to constitute an Educational 
 Hiatus. 
 
 Huxley (Professor). — LAY SERMONS, ADDRESSES, 
 AND REVIEWS. By T. H. Huxley, LL.D., F.R.S. 
 Second and Cheaper Edition, crown 8vo. ys. 6d. 
 
 Fourteen discourses 011 the following subjects : — On the Advisableness of 
 Improving Natural Knowledge Emancipation — Black and White ; A 
 Liberal Education, ana where 10 find it ; Scientific Education ; on the 
 Educational Value of the Natural History Sciences ; on the Study oj 
 Zoology; 011 the Physical Basis of Life ; the Scientific Aspects of Posi- 
 tivism ; 011 a Piece of Chalk; Geological Contemporaneity and Persistent 
 Types of Life ; Geological Reform ; the Origin of Species ; Criticisms on 
 the " Origin of Species ;" on Descartes' " Discourse touching the Method 
 of using one's Reason rightly and of seeking Scieiitific Truth." 
 
3o GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 ESSAYS SELECTED FROM LAY SERMONS, ADDRESSES, 
 AND REVIEWS. Crown 8vo. Cloth. 2s. 
 
 Whilst publishing a second edition of his Lay Sermons, Addresses, and 
 Reviews, Professor Huxley has, at the suggestion of many friends, issued 
 in a cheap and popular form the selection we are now noticing. It includes 
 the following essays: — (i) On the Advisableness of Improving Natural 
 Kitotvledge. (2) A Liberal Education, and where to find it. (3) Scie?itifiic 
 Education, notes of an after-dinner speech. (4) On the Physical Basis of 
 Life. (5) The Scientific Aspects of Positivism. (6) On Descartes'* "Dis- 
 course touching the Method of using onis Reason Rightly and of seeking 
 Scientific Truth" 
 
 Kennedy. — LEGENDARY FICTIONS OF THE IRISH 
 CELTS. Collected and Narrated by Patrick Kennedy. Crown 
 8vo. With Two Illustrations. Js. 6d. 
 
 "A very ad?nh 'able popular selection of the Irish fairy stories and 'legends •, 
 in which those who are fa?fiiliar with Air. Crokers, and other selections 
 of the same kind, will find much that is fresh, and full of the peculiar 
 vivacity and humour, and sometimes even of the ideal beauty, of the true 
 Celtic Legend?— Spectator. 
 
 Kingsley (Canon). — See also "Historic Section," "Works 
 of Fiction," and "Philosophy;" also "Juvenile Books," 
 and" Theology." 
 
 THE SAINTS' TRAGEDY : or, The True Story of Elizabeth of 
 Hungary. By the Rev. Charles Kingsley. With a Preface by 
 the Rev. F. D. Maurice. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. 
 
 ANDROMEDA, AND OTHER POEMS. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. $s. 
 
 PHAETHON ; or, Loose Thoughts for Loose Thinkers. Third 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. is. 
 
 Lowell (Professor).— AMONG MY BOOKS. Six Essays. 
 By James Russell Lowell, M.A., Professor of Belles Lettres 
 in Harvar College. Crown 8vo. p. 6d. 
 
POETRY &> BELLES LETTRES. 31 
 
 Six Essays : Dryden ; Witchcraft ; Shakespeare Once More ; New 
 England Two Centuries ago; Lessing ; Rousseau and the Senti- 
 mentalists. 
 
 UNDER THE WILLOWS, AND OTHER POEMS. By James 
 Russell Lowell. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 11 Under the Willows is one of the most admirable bits of idyllic work, 
 short as it is, or perhaps because it is short, that have been done in our gene- 
 ration" — Saturday Review. 
 
 Masson (Professor).— essays, biographical AND 
 
 CRITICAL. Chiefly on the British Poets. By David Masson, 
 LL.D., Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Edinburgh. 
 8vo. \2s. 6d. 
 
 "Distinguished by a remarkable power of analysis, a clear statement 
 of the actual facts 011 which speculation is based, and an appropi'iale 
 beauty of language. These essays should be popular with serious ?nen." — 
 Athenaeum. 
 
 BRITISH NOVELISTS AND THEIR STYLES. Being a Critical 
 Sketch of the History of British Prose Fiction. Crown 8vo. *js. 6d. 
 
 " Valuable for its lucid analysis of fundamental principles, its breadth 
 of viezv, and sustained animation of style.'" — Spectator. 
 
 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 
 8vo. 3J. 6d. A Poem of the boudoir or domestic class, purporting 
 to be the journal of a newly-married lady. 
 
 " One quality in the piece, sufficient of itself to claim a moment's alien- 
 Hon, is that it is unique — original, indeed, is not too strong a word — in 
 the manner of its conception and execution." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Mistral (F.). — MIRELLE: a Pastoral Epic of Provence. Trans- 
 lated by H. Crichton. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 " This is a capital translation of the elegant and richly -coloured pastoral 
 epic poe??i of M. Mistral which, in 1859, he dedicated in enthusiastic 
 
 terms to Lamai'tine. It woutd be hard to overpraise the 
 
 sweetness and pleasing freshness of this charming epic." — Athen^um. 
 
32 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Myers (Ernest). — THE PURITANS. By Ernest Myers. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. cloth. 2s. 6d. 
 
 " // is not too much to call it a really grand poem, stately and dignified, 
 and showing not only a high poetic mind, but also great power over poetic 
 expression." — Literary Churchman. 
 
 Myers (F. W. H.).— Poems. By F. W. H. Myers. Extra 
 
 fcap. 8vo. \s. 6d. Containing "ST. PAUL," "St. JOHN," and 
 
 other Poems. 
 
 66 St. Paul stands without a rival as the noblest religious poem which 
 
 has been written in an age which beyond any other has been prolific in this 
 
 class of poetry. The sublimest conceptions are expressed in language which 
 
 for richness, taste, and pitrity, we have never seen excelled." — John Bull. 
 
 Nettleship. — ESSAYS ON ROBERT BROWNING'S 
 POETRY. By John T. Nettleship. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 6d. 
 
 Noel.— BEATRICE, AND OTHER POEMS. By the Hon. 
 Roden Noel. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 "Beatrice is in many respects a noble poem; it displays a splendour 
 of landscape painting, a strong definite precision oj highly -coloured descrip- 
 tion, which has not often been surpassed." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Norton.— THE LADY OF LA GARAYE. By the Hon. Mrs. 
 Norton. With Vignette and Frontispiece. Sixth Edition. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 4J. 6d. 
 " There is no lack of vigour, no faltering of power, plenty of passiojt, 
 much bright description, much 7iiusical verse. . . . Full of thoughts well- 
 expressed, and may be classed among her best works." — Times. 
 
 Orwell.— THE BISHOP'S WALK AND THE BISHOP'S 
 TIMES. Poems on the days of Archbishop Leighton and the 
 Scottish Covenant. By Orwell. Fcap. 8vo. 5j. 
 ' * Pure taste and faultless precision of language, the fruits of deep thought, 
 
 insight into human nature, and lively sy??ipathy." — Nonconformist. 
 
 Palgrave (Francis T.).— ESSAYS ON ART. By Francis 
 Turner Palgrave, M.A., late Fellow of Exeter College, 
 Oxford. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 Mulready — Dyce — Holman Hunt — Herbert — Poetry, Prose, and Sen- 
 sationalism in Art— Sculpture in England— The Albert Cross, &c. 
 
POETRY &* BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 33 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS AND SONGS. Edited by F. T. 
 Palgrave. Gem Edition. With Vignette Title by Jeens. y.^d. 
 
 " For minute elegance no volume could possibly excel the ' Gem 
 Edition' " — SCOTSMAN. 
 
 ORIGINAL HYMNS. By F. T. Palgrave. Third Edition, en- 
 larged, i8mo. 1 j. 6d. 
 
 LYRICAL POEMS. By F. T. Palgrave. [Nearly ready. 
 
 Patmore. — Works by Coventry Patmore : — 
 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Book I. The Betrothal ; Book II. The Espousals ; Book III. 
 Faithful for Ever. With Tamerton Church Tower. Two vols. Fcap. 
 Sz/o. 1 2s. 
 
 *** A New and Cheap Edition in one vol. I Smo. , beautifully printed 
 on toned paper, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE VICTORIES OF LOVE. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 The intrinsic merit of his poem will secure it a permanent place in 
 literature. . . . Mr. Patmore has fully earned a place in the catalogue 
 of poets by the finished idealization of domestic life?'' — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 Pember (E. H.).— the tragedy of lesbos. a 
 
 Dramatic Poem. By E. H Pember. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. 
 Founded upon the story of Sappho. 
 
 Richardson. — THE ILIAD OF THE EAST. A Selection 
 of Legends drawn from Valmiki's Sanskrit Poem "The Ram- 
 ayana." By Frederika Richardson. Crown 8vo. Js. 6d. 
 "A charming volume which at once e7imeshes the reader in its snares," 
 
 — Athenaeum. 
 
 Rhoades (James). — POEMS. By James Rhoades. Fcap. 
 Svo. 4s. 6d. 
 Poems and Sonnets. Contents : — Ode to Harmony ; To the Spirit 
 oj Unrest; Ode to Winter ; The Tunnel; To the Spirit of Beauty ; 
 Song of a Leaf ; By the Botha ; An Old Orchard ; Love and Rest ; The 
 Flowers Surprised ; On the Death of Artemus Ward ; The Two Paths ; 
 The Ballad of Little Maisie ; Sonnets. 
 
 c 
 
34 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Rossetti. — Works by Christina Rossetti : — 
 
 GOBLIN MARKET, AND OTHER POEMS. With two Designs 
 by D. G. Rossetti. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. $s. 
 
 "She handles her little marvel with that rare poetic discrimination which 
 neither exhausts it of its simple wonders by pushing symbolism too far, nor 
 keeps those wonders in the merely fabulous and capricious stage. In fact 
 she has produced a true children's poem, which is far more delightful to 
 the mature than to children,, though it would be delightful to all." — 
 Spectator. 
 
 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS, AND OTHER POEMS. With 
 two Designs by D. G. Rossetti. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 " Miss RossettV s poems are of the kind which recalls Shelley's definition 
 of Poetry as the record of the best and happiest moments of the best and 
 happiest minds. . . . They are like the piping of a bird on the spray in 
 the sunshine, or the quaint singing with which a child amuses itself when 
 it forgets that anybody is listening."— Saturday Review. 
 
 Rossetti (W. M.).— DANTE'S HELL. See "Dante." 
 
 FINE ART, chiefly Contemporary. By William M. Rossetti. 
 Crown 8vo. \os. 6d. 
 
 This volume consists of Criticisjn on Contemporary Art, reprinted 
 from Fraser, The Saturday Review, The Pall Mall Gazette, and older 
 publications. 
 
 Roby.— STORY OF A HOUSEHOLD, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 By Mary K. Roby. Fcap. 8vo. 5^ 
 
 Seeley (Professor). — LECTURES AND ESSAYS. By 
 
 J. R. Seeley, M.A. Professor of Modern History in the 
 University of Cambridge. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 Contexts : — Roman Imperialism : 1. The Great Roman Revolution; 
 2. The Proximate cause of the Fall of the Roman Empire; 3. The Later 
 Empire.— Milton s Political Opinions — Milton 's Poetry— Elementary 
 Principles in Art— Liberal Education in Universities— English in 
 Schools— The Church as a Teacher of Morality— The Teaching of 
 Politics: an Inaugural Lecture delivered at Cambridge. 
 
POETRY £• BELLES LETT RES, 35 
 
 Shairp (Principal).— KILMAHOE, a Highland Pastoral, with 
 other Poems. By John Campbell Shairp. Fcap. 8vo. y, 
 
 " Kilmahoe is a Highland Pastoral, redolent of the warm soft air oj 
 the Western Lochs and Moors, sketched out with remarkable grace and 
 picturesqueness. " — Saturday Review. 
 
 Smith. — Works by Alexander Smith : — 
 
 A LIFE DRAMA, AND OTH^R POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 CITY POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 5* 
 
 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. $s. 
 
 "A poem which is marked by the strength, sustained S7ueetuess, and 
 compact texture of real life.'" — North British Review. 
 
 Smith. — POEMS. By Catherine Barnard Smith. Fcap. 
 8vo. 5j. 
 
 " Wealthy in feeling, meaning, finish, and grace ; not without passion, 
 which is suppressed, but the keener for that." — Athen/EUM. 
 
 Smith (Rev. Walter). — hymns OF CHRIST AND THE 
 CHRISTIAN LIFE. By the Rev. Walter C. Smith, M.A. 
 Fcap. Svo. 6s. 
 
 11 These are among the sxueetest sacred poems we have read for a low* 
 time. With no profuse imagery, expressing a range of feeling and 
 ext>ressio7i by no means uncommon, they are true a7id elevated, and their 
 pathos is profound and simple.'" — NONCONFORMIST. 
 
 Stratford de Redcliffe (Viscount). — shadows of 
 THE PAST, in Verse. By Viscount Stratford de Red- 
 cliffe. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 ' ' The vigorous words of one who has acted vigorously. They 
 the fervour of politicians and poet ." — Guardian. 
 
36 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Trench. — Works by R. Chenevix Trench, D.D., Archbishop 
 of Dublin. See also Sections "Philosophy," "Theology," &c. 
 
 POEMS. Collected and arranged anew. Fcap. 8vo. *]s. 6d. 
 
 ELEGIAC POEMS. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 CALDERON'S LIFE'S A DREAM : The Great Theatre of the 
 World. With an Essay on his Life and Genius. Fcap. 8vo. 
 4$-. 6d. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY. Selected and 
 arranged, with Notes, by R. C. Trench, D.D., Archbishop of 
 Dublin. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. $s. 6d. 
 
 This volume is called a " Household Book" by this name implying that 
 it is a book for all — that there is nothing in it to prevent it from being 
 confidently placid in the hands of every member of the household. Speci- 
 mens of all classes of poetry are given, including selections from living 
 authors. The Editor has ai?ned to produce a book l ' which the emigrant, 
 finding room for little not absolutely necessary, might yei fina room for 
 in his trunk, and the traveller in his knapsack, and that on some narrow 
 shelves where there are few books this might be one. 
 
 " The Archbishop has conferred in this delightful volume an important 
 gift on the whole English-speaking populatioii of the world." — Pall 
 Mall Gazette. 
 
 SACRED LATIN POETRY, Chiefly Lyrical. Selected and arranged 
 
 for Use. Second Edition, Corrected and Improved. Fcap. 8vo. 
 
 7s. 
 
 1 ' The aim of the present volume is to offer to members of our English 
 
 Church a collection of the best sacred Latin poetry, such as thev shall be 
 
 able entirely and heartily to accept and approve — a collection, that ts,'in which 
 
 they shall not be ever7?iore liable to be offended, and to have the current of 
 
 their sympathies checked, by coming upon that which, however beautiful as 
 
 poetry, out of higher respects they must reject and condemn — in which, too, 
 
 they shall not fear that snares are being laid for them, to entangle them 
 
 unawares in admiration for aught which is inconsistent with their faith 
 
 and fealty to their own spiritual mother." — PREFACE. 
 
 Turner. — SONNETS. By the Rev. Charles Tennyson 
 Turner. Dedicated to his brother, the Poet Laureate. Fcap. 
 8vo. 4s. 6d. 
 
POETRY &* BELLES LETTRES. 37 
 
 64 The Sonnets are dedicated to Mr. Tennyson by his brother, and have, 
 independently of their merits, an interest of association. They both love to 
 write in simple expressive Saxon; both love to touch their imagery in 
 epithets rather than in formal similes ; both have a delicate perception 
 of rhythmical movement, and thus Mr. Turner has occasional lines which, 
 for phrase and music, might be ascribed to his brother. . . He knows the 
 hauftts of the wild rose, the shady nooks where light quivers through the 
 leaves, the ruralities, in short, of the land of imagination." — Athenaeum. 
 
 SMALL TABLEAUX. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 " These brief poe??is have not only a peculiar kind of interest for the 
 student of English poetry, but are intrinsically delightful 9 and will reward 
 a careful and frequent perusal. Full of 7taivete, piety, love, and knowledge 
 of natural objects, and each expressing a single and generally a simple 
 subject by means of minute and original pictorial touches, these sonnets 
 have a place of their own." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Vittoria Colonna. — LIFE AND POEMS. By Mrs. Henry 
 Roscoe. Crown 8vo. 9^. 
 
 The life of Vittoria Colonna, the celebrated Marchesa di Pescara, has 
 received but cursory notice from any English writer, though in every 
 history of Italy her name is mentioned with great honour among the poets 
 of the sixteenth century. "In three hundred and fifty years," says her 
 biographer, Visconti, "there has been no other Italian lady who can be 
 compared to her." 
 
 "It is written ivith good taste, with quick and intelligent sy??ipathy, 
 occasionally with a real freshness and charm of style." — Pall Mall 
 Gazette. 
 
 Webster. — Works by Augusta Webster : — 
 
 "If Mrs. Webster only remains t7-ue to herself, she will assuredly 
 lake a higher rank as a poet than any woman has yet done." — 
 Westminster Review. 
 
 DRAMATIC STUDIES. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5* 
 
 "A volume as strongly marked by perfect taste as by poetic power." — • 
 Nonconformist. 
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND OF AESCHYLUS. Literally translated 
 into English Verse. Extra fcap. 8vo. y. 6d. 
 " Closeness and simplicity combined with literal y skill." — Athen/EUM. 
 
38 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 "Mrs. Webster's l Dramatic Studies'' and ' Translation of Prome- 
 theus ' have won for her an honourable place among our Jemale poets. 
 She writes with remarkable vigour and dramatic realization, and bids fair 
 to be the most successful claimant of Mrs. Browning's mantle.''' — British 
 Quarterly Review. 
 
 MEDEA OF EURIPIDES. Literally translated into English Verse. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. ^s. 6d. 
 " Mrs. Webster s translation surpasses our utmost expectations. It is a 
 photograph of the original without any of that harshness which so often 
 accompanies a photograph!' — Westminster Review. 
 
 A WOMAN SOLD, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vo. 7*. 6d. 
 "Mrs. Webster has shown us that she is able to draw admirably from 
 the life; that she can observe with subtlety, and render her observations 
 with delicacy ; that she can imperso7tate co?nplex conceptio?zs 9 and venture 
 into which few living writers can follow her." — Guardian. 
 
 PORTRAITS. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 3*. 6d. 
 
 11 Mrs. Webster* s poems exhibit simplicity and tenderness . . . her 
 taste is perfect . . . This simplicity is combined with a subtlety of thought, 
 feeling, and observation which de??iand that attention which only real 
 lovers of poetry are apt to bestow. . . . If she only remains true to herself 
 she will most assuredly take a higher rank as a poet thait any woman has 
 yet done." — Westminster Review. 
 
 " With this volume before us it would be hard to deny her the proud 
 position of the first living English poetess." — Examiner. 
 
 Woodward (B. B., F.S. A.).— SPECIMENS OF THE 
 
 DRAWINGS OF TEN MASTERS, from the Royal Collection 
 at Windsor Castle. With Descriptive Text by the late B. B.Wood- 
 ward, B.A., F.S. A., Librarian to the Queen, and Keeper of 
 Prints and Drawings. Illustrated by Twenty Autotypes by 
 Edwards and Kidd. In 4to. handsomely bound, price 25 s. 
 This volume contains facsimiles oj the works of Michael Angelo, Perugino, 
 Raphael, Julio Romano, Leo7iardo da Vinci, Giorgione, Paul Veronese, 
 Poussin, Albert Diirer, Holbein, executed by the Autotype (Carbon) process, 
 which may be accepted as, so far, perfect representations of the originals. In 
 most cases some reduction in size was necessary, and then the dimensions 
 of the drawing itself have bee7igive7i. Brief biographical memora7ida of 
 the life of each master are inserted, solely to prevent the need of refer e?ice 
 to other works, £ 
 
POETRY & BELLES LETTRES. 39 
 
 Woolner.— MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. By Thomas Woolner. 
 With a Vignette by Arthur Hughes. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. $s. 
 
 " It is clearly the product of no idle hour, but a highly -conceived and 
 faithfully-executed task, self-i?nposed, and prompted by that inward yearn- 
 ing to utter great thoughts, and a wealth of passionate feeling which is 
 poetic genius. No man can read this poem without being struck by the 
 fitness and finish of the workmanship, so to speak, as zuell as by the chas- 
 tened and unpretending loftiness of thought which t>ervades the whole." — 
 Globe, j 
 
 WORDS FROM THE POETS. Selected by the Editor of " Rays of 
 Sunlight." With a Vignette and Frontispiece. i8mo. limp., u. 
 
 Wyatt (Sir M. Digby).— FINE ART: a Sketch of its 
 Flistory, Theory, Practice, and application to Industry. A Course 
 of Lectures delivered before the University of Cambridge. By 
 Sir M. Digby Wyatt, M. A. Slade Professor of Fine Art. 
 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
THE GLOBE LIBRARY. 
 
 Beautifully printed on toned paper and bound in cloth elegant, price 
 4-f. 6d. each. In plain cloth, 3^. 6d. Also kept in various styles of 
 Morocco and Calf bindings. 
 
 THE SATURDAY REVIEW says— " The Globe Editions 
 are 1 admirable for their scholarly editing, their typographical 
 excellence, their compendious form, and their cheapness." 
 
 Under the title GLOBE EDITIONS, the Publishers are 
 issuing a uniform Series ol Standard English Authors, 
 carefully edited, clearly and elegantly printed on toned 
 paper, strongly bound, and at a small cost. The names of 
 the Editors whom they have been fortunate enough to 
 secure constitute an indisputable guarantee as to the 
 character of the Series. The greatest care has been taken 
 to ensure accuracy of text \ adequate notes, elucidating 
 historical, literary, and philological points, have been sup- 
 plied ; and, to the older Authors, glossaries are appended. 
 The series is especially adapted to Students of our national 
 Literature \ while the small price places good editions of 
 certain books, hitherto popularly inaccessible, within the 
 reach of all. The Saturday Review says : " The Globe 
 Editions of our English Poets are admirable for their 
 scholarly editing, their typographical excellence, their com- 
 pendious form, and their cheapness." 
 
GLOBE EDITIONS. 41 
 
 Shakespeare. — the complete works of William 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. Edited by W. G. Clark and W. Aldis 
 Wright. 
 
 "A marvel of beauty, cheapness, and compactness. The whole works — 
 plays, poems, and sonnets — are contained in one small volume : yet the 
 page is perfectly clear and readable. . . . For the busy man, above all 
 for the working student, the Globe Edition is the best of all existing 
 Shakespeare books." — Athenaeum. 
 
 Morte D'Arthur. — SIR THOMAS MALORY'S BOOK OF 
 KING ARTHUR AND OF HIS NOBLE KNIGHTS OF 
 THE ROUND TABLE. The Edition of Caxton, revised for 
 Modern Use. With an Introduction by Sir Edward Strachey, 
 Bart. 
 
 "It is with the most perfect confidejice that we recommend this edition of 
 the old romance to every class of readers.'" — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Scott. — THE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER 
 SCOTT. With Biographical Essay by F. T. Palgrave. 
 New Edition. 
 
 "As a popular edition it leaves nothing to be desired. The want oj 
 such an one has long been felt, combining real excellence with cheapness." 
 — Spectator. 
 
 Burns.— THE POETICAL WORKS AND LETTERS OF 
 ROBERT BURNS. Edited, with Life, by Alexander Smith. 
 New Edition. 
 
 " The works of the bard have never been offered in such a co??iplete form 
 in a single volume." — Glasgow Daily Herald. 
 " Admirable in all respects." — Spectator. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe.— the adventures of ROBINSON 
 
 CRUSOE. By Defoe. Edited, from the Original Edition, by 
 J. W. Clark, M.A., Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 With Introduction by Henry Kingsley. 
 
 " The Globe Edition of Robinson Crusoe is a book to have and to keep. 
 It is printed after the origmal editions, with the quaint old spelling, and 
 
MACMILLAN'S 
 
 GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 
 
 Uniformly printed in i8mo., with Vignette Titles by Sir 
 Noel Paton, T. Woolner, W. Holman Hunt, J. E. 
 Millais, Arthur Hughes, &c. Engraved on Steel by 
 Jeens. Bound in extra cloth, 4s. 6d. each volume. Also 
 kept in morocco and calf bindings. 
 
 1 1 Messrs. Macmillan have, in their Golden Treasury Series especially, 
 provided editions of standard works, volumes of selected poetry, and 
 original compositions, which entitle this series to be called classical. 
 Nothing can be better than the literary execution, nothing more elegant 
 than the material workmanship" — British Quarterly Review. 
 
 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF THE BEST SONGS AND 
 LYRICAL POEMS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 
 Selected and arranged, with Notes, by Francis Turner 
 Palgrave. 
 
 " This delightful little volume, the Golden Treasury, which contains 
 many of the best original lyrical pieces and songs in oitr language, grouped 
 with care and skill, so as to illustrate each other like the pictures in a 
 well-arranged gallery. ' ' — Quarterly Review. 
 
 THE CHILDREN'S GARLAND FROM THE BEST POETS 
 Selected and arranged by Coventry Patmore. 
 
 "It includes speci?nens of all the great masters in the art of poetry, 
 selected with the matured judgment of a man concejitrated on obtaining 
 insight into the feelings and tastes of childhood, and desirous to awaken its 
 finest impulses^ to cultivate Us keenest sensibilities." — Morning Post. 
 
GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 45 
 
 THE BOOK OF PRAISE. From the Best English Hymn Writers. 
 Selected and arranged by Sir Roundell Palmer. A New and 
 E)tlarged Edition. 
 
 " All previous compilations of this kind must undeniably for the present 
 give place to the Book of Praise. . . . The selectio7i has been made 
 throughout with sound judgment and critical taste. The pains involved 
 in this compilation must have been immense^ embracing, as it does, every 
 writer of note in this special province of English literature, and ranging 
 over the most widely divergent tracks of religious thought." — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 THE FAIRY BOOK ; the Best Popular Fairy Stories. Selected and 
 rendered anew by the Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." 
 
 "A delightful selectioii, in a delightful external for7n ; full of the 
 physical splendour and vast opulence of proper fai?y tales." — Spectator. 
 
 THE BALLAD BOOK. A Selection of the Choicest British Ballads. 
 Edited by William Allingham. 
 
 " His taste as a judge of old poetry will be fotmd, by all acquainted with 
 the various readings of old English ballads, true enough to justify his 
 undertaking so critical a task." — Saturday Review. 
 
 THE JEST BOOK. The Choicest Anecdotes and Sayings. Selected 
 and arranged by Mark Lemon. 
 
 " The fullest and best jest book that has yet appeared." — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 BACON'S ESSAYS AND COLOURS OF GOOD AND EVIL. 
 With Notes and Glossarial Index. By W. Aldis Wright, M.A. 
 
 " The beautiful little edition of Bacon^s Essays, nozv before us, does 
 credit to the taste and scholarship of Mr. Aldis Wright. . . . It puts the 
 reader in possession of all the essential literary facts and chronology 
 necessary for reading the Essays in comiexion with Bacon's life and 
 times. " — S pectator. 
 
 "By far the most complete as well as the Most elegant edition we 
 possess." — Westminster Review. 
 
46 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS from this World to that which is to 
 come. By John Bunyan. 
 "A beautiful and scholarly reprint." 1 '' — SPECTATOR. 
 
 THE SUNDAY BOOK OF POETRY FOR THE YOUNG. 
 Selected and arranged by C. F. Alexander. 
 
 *' A well-selected volume of Sacred Poetry" — SPECTATOR. 
 
 A BOOK OF GOLDEN DEEDS of all Times and all Countries. 
 Gathered and narrated anew. By the Author of " The Heir of 
 Redclyffe." 
 
 ". . . Totheyoung, for whom it is especially intended, as a ?nost interesting 
 collection of thrilling tales well told ; and to their elders, as a useful hand- 
 book of reference, and a pleasant one to take tip when their wish is to while 
 away a weary half hour. We have seen no ■prettier gift-book for a long 
 
 time" — ATHENiEUM. 
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS. Edited, with 
 Biographical Memoir, Notes and Glossary, by Alexander 
 Smith. Two Vols. 
 "Beyond all question this is the most beautiful edition of Burns 
 
 yet ^/."—Edinburgh Daily Review. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE. Edited from 
 
 the Original Edition by J. W. Clark, M.A., Fellow of Trinity 
 
 College, Cambridge. 
 
 " Mutilated and modified editions of this English classic are so much 
 
 the rule, that a cheap and p7'etty copy of it, rigidly exact to the original, 
 
 will be a prize to many book-buyers" — Examiner. 
 
 THE REPUBLIC OF PLATO. Translated into English, with 
 Notes by J. LI. Davies, M.A. and D. J. Vaughan, M.A. 
 "A dainty and cheap little edition.''' 1 — Examiner. 
 
 THE SONG BOOK. Words and Tunes from the best Poets and 
 Musicians. Selected and arranged by John Hullah, Professor 
 of Vocal Music in King's College, London. 
 "A choice collection of the sterling songs of England, Scotland, and 
 
 Ireland, with the music of each prefixed to the words. How much true 
 
 wholesome pleasure such a book can diffuse, and will diffuse, we trust, 
 
 tlirough many thousand families." — Examiner. 
 
GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 47 
 
 LA LYRE FRANCAISE. Selected and arranged, With Notes, by 
 Gustave Masson, French Master in Harrow School. 
 A selection of the best French songs and lyrical pieces. 
 
 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS. By an Old Boy. 
 
 " A perfect gem of a book. The best and most healthy book about boys 
 for boys that ever was written." — Illustrated Times. 
 
 A BOOK OF WORTHIES. Gathered from the Old Histories and 
 written anew by the Author of "The Heir of Redclyffe." 
 With Vignette. 
 "An admirable addition to an ad?nirable series" — Westminster 
 
 Review. 
 
 A BOOK OF GOLDEN THOUGHTS. By Henry Attwell, 
 Knight of the Order of the Oak Crown. 
 
 * * Mr. Attwell has produced a book of rare value .... Happily it is 
 small enough to be carried about in the pocket, and of such a companion 
 it would be difficult to weary. " — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 
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