ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XIX, Issue 6362, 8 April 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.

BY WALTER KESAN'T AND JAMES RICE. Authors of " Ke■uly-money Morlibny," " Tlw iSol.len liutkrtly," " liy Colhl's'Arliour, l'lio Clianl.iiM o( tho Fleet." kc, &e.

CMAI'TKR XVII. WHAT I.OKD JOCEIA'-N' THOUGHT. Tin: subject oi Angela's meditations was not whore slie thought him, in his own bedroom. When lin left his adviser, he did not go iu at once, but walked once or twice, up and down the pavement, thinking. Wh-it ho had promised to do was nothing less than to reverse, altogether, the whole of his promised life, and this is no light matter, even if you do it for love's sweet sake. And Miss Kennedy, being no longer willi him, hcfclta little chilied from the first enthusiasm. Presently he looked at his watch ; it was still early ; only lialf-past'ten. " There is the chance," he said. "It i.i only a chance. He generally comes back somewhere about this time." There are no cabs at Stepney, but there an; tramways which go quite as fast, and, besides, give one the opportunity of exchanging ideas' on current topics with one's travelliii" companions. Harry pimped into om-, and sat down between a 'bibulous old gentleman, who said he lived in l-'ore-st.reet, but had for the moment mislaid all his other ideas, and a lady who talked to herself as she carried a bundle. She was rehearsing something dramatic, a monologue, in which she was" giving it" to somebody unknown. And she. was so much under the; iniluence and emotion of imagination, that the young man trembled lest ho might, bo mistaken lor the person addressed. "However, happily, the lady ho far restrained herself, and Ahlgatc was reached in peace. There lie took a hansom and drove to Piccadilly. The streets looked strange to him after his throe months' abscenco ; the lights, the crowds on the pavements, so different from the Kast Knd crowd; the rush of the carriages and cabs taking the people home from the theatre filled him with a strange longing. He bad been asleep ;he bad had a dream ; there was no Stepney ; there was no Whitcchapel Road ; a strange and wondrous dream. Miss Kennedy and her damsels were only part of this vision. A beautiful and delightful dream. Ho was back again in Piccadilly, and all was exactly as it always had been. So far all was exactly the same, for Lord Jocolyn was in his chamber, and alone. " You are comn back to mo, Harry?" he said, holding the young man's hand ; "you have had enough of your cousins and tho worthy Bunker. Sit down, boy. I heard your foot on the stairs.i 1 have waited for it a long time. Sit down and let me look at you. To-morrow you shall tell mo all your adventures." "It U comfortable," said Harry, taking his old chair and one of his guardian's cigarettes. " Yes, Piccadilly /.< better, in some respects, than Whitcchapel." "And there is more comfort the higher up you climb, oh ?" " Certainly more comfort. There is not. I am sure, such an easy chair as this east of St. Paul's." Then they were silent, as becomes two men who know what is in each other's heart, and wait for it to be said. "You look well," said Harry presently. " Where did you spend the summer ?" ".Mediterranean. Yacht. Partridges." " Of course. Do you stay in London long?" And so on. Flaying with the talk, and postponing the inevitable, Harry learned where everybody had been, and who was engaged, and who was married, and how one or two had joined the majority since his departure. He also heard the latest scandal, and the current talk, and what had been done at the Club, and who had been blackballed, with divers small bits of information about people ami things. And he took up the talk iu the old manner, and fell into the old attitude of mind quite naturally, and as if there had been no break at all. Presently the clock pointed to otic, and Lord Jocelyn rose. "We will talk again, to-morrow, Harry, my boy, and the day after to-morrow, and many days after that. I am glad to have you back again." He laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder. " Do not go just yet, "said Harry, blushing and feeling guilty, because he was going to inflict pain ou one who loved him. "I cannot talk with you to-morrow." "Why not?" " Because—sit down again and listen— because I have made up my mind to join my kith and kin altogether, and stay among them." " What? Stay among them ?" " You remember what you told me of your motive in taking me. You would tiring up a boy of the peo'ple like a gentleman. You wjuld educate him in all that a gentleman can learn, and then you would send him back to his friends, whom he would make discontented, and so open the way for civilization."

"1 said so—did I? Yos : but there were other things, Harry. You forget that motives are always mixed. There was affection for my brave sergeant'and a desire to help bis son : there were all sorts of things. Besides, I expected that you would take a rough kind of polish only—like nickel, you know, or pewter —and you turned out real silver. A gentleman, 1 thought, is born, not made. This proved a mistake. Tho puddle blood would show, I expected, which was prejudice, you see, because there is no sucii thing as puddle blood. Besides, I thought you would be stupid and slow to pick up ideas, and that you would pick up only a few : supposing, in my ignorance, that all persons not -born,' as the Germans say, must bo .stupid and slow."

"And I was not stupid?" "You? The brightest and cleverest lad in tho whole world"—you stepped into the place I made for you as if you had been born for it. Now tell me why you wish to step out of it." "Like you, sir, I have many motives. Tartly, I am greatly interested in my own people : partly, 1 am interested in tho place itself and its ways ; partly, 1 am told, and I believe, that there is a great deal which 1 can do there—do not laugh at me."

"I am not laughing," Harry, I am only astonished. Yes, you an: chanced ; your eyes arc different, ycur voice is dillorcut. Oo on, my boy. "I'do not think there is anything to

say—l mean in explanation. But of course I understand—it is a part of the thing—that if 1 stay among them 1 must be independent. I could no longer look to your bounty, which I have accepted too long. 1 must work for my living." " Work ? And 'what will you do ?"

"I know a lot of tilings, but somehow they arc not wanted at Stepney, and the only thins by which I can make money seems to lie my lathe—l have become a cabinct-maUi:r." "lleavons! You have become a cabinetmukcr'.' I>.i you actually mean, Harry, that you are going to work—with your bauds — fur money ?" "Yes: with my bauds. I shall be paid for my work : 1 sliall live by my work. Tho puddle blood, you sec." "No, no," said Lord .loeclyu, " thciv is no proof ol puddle blood in being independent. But think of the discomfort of it." " 1 have thought of tho discomfort. It is not so very bad. What is your idea of the life I .shall have to live?" " Why, "said Lord, locclyn, with a shudder. " you will rise at six ; you will go out in working clothes, carrying your tool?, and with your apron tried around and tucked up like a missionary bishop on his way to a confirmation. You will find yourself in a workshop full of disagieoable people, who pick out unpleasant adjectives and tack them on to everything, and whose view ot hto and habits arc'-wcll, not your own. You -will have to smoke pipes at a street corner on Sundays ; your tabaceo will bo bad : you will drink bad beer—Harry : the contemplation of the tiling i.i too painful.' J tarry laughed. "The reality is not quite so bad," he said. " Cibino.t-inak.-rs are excellent fellow*. And as for myself, 1 shall rot work iu a shop, hut alone, i am ottered the post of cabinetmaker in a great plaee where 1 shall have my own room to myself, and can please my own cunvcnieiice as to my hours. J shall earn about tenper.ee. an hour, say seven shilling a day, if I keep at it." " Ji' In- keeps at it," murmured Liird .lixvlvn, "hewill make seven shillings a day." ""Dinner in the middle of the day. of omnsc," Harry went on with a cheerful xiuilo. " At the Kast V.nA everybody stokes at one. We have tea at live and supper when we can get it. A simpler life than yours." "This is a programme of such extreme misery," said Lord .loeelyn, " that your explanations arc quite insufficient. Is there, 1 wonder, a woman in tho case':" .Harry blushed violently. ••There U a woman, then?'' said his guardian triumphantly. "There always is.

-Tiol— ft W'-y ■ r .. ;t ; s ciuito true ~_„ Harry; '* \ovc with her cli.\ -f omaii iiml 1 a.n i>- » u "Ve., ->kcv.' There is :i . 81k: is a dressm. Lord .locelyu said iiothiij., "•stun "A lady," Harry repeated sliow thai he knew what ho \v "Ijiititr is of no use. She won't I. me." " That is more remarkable than your t\v. last statements. M.mv men have fallen in love with dressmakers ; some dressmakers have acquired partially tlie inaiinerd of a Lilly, but that any dressmaker should refuse the honourable attentions of a nan<!.~oine young fellow like you, ami a gentleman, i= inconceivable." " A cabinet-maker, not agimUemaii. lint do not let us talk of her, it you ple-.isv.' . Then Lord .locelyn proceeded, v.-itii such eloi|uenee as was at his command, to draw a picture of what he. was throwing av.ay compared with what he was ace.-ptin:,'. " 'J'in-n; j was ii universal feelin.-', he assu-iil hi;; v,.i:,1, 1 of sympathy with linn : every!,o ly fi.-lt t!i;.t , it was roil'.-h on sutlia in in a-i himself to lind : that In: was not of illustrious de.veut ; he would tal;.: his old place in society, all his j old friends would welcome him back ! them, with much more to the same piirpo.-c. ■ It was four o'clock in the nK>rm;i'_r whrn j their conversation ended, and Lonl Jocclyn ! went to bed sorrowful, promising to rcticv.- | his arguments in the morning. As soon as i.e j was i'one. I l.iny v.cnt to Ills on'ii iwiin and put to"eliier a few little trill-s belonging to the past which ho thought he should hk.-. Tl.uii he wrote a letter of f.uev..-ll to his | guardian, promising to report himself fioin time to time, with a few words of gratitude and nliection. And then he stole umetly down the stairs and found himself in the J open street. Like a school-boy, he had run |

Tlicre was nobody 1..-ft in the .streets. Halfpast four in the morning is almost the [iiictcst time of any ; even tlie burglar lias jone home, and it is too curly tor anything >ut the market-garden carts on their way to "Jovcnt Uarden. He strode down Piccadilly mil across the silent Leicester Square into ;he Strand. Jlc passed through that rcnarkable thoroughfare, and, by way of ITeettreet, where even the newspaper ollices were leserted, the leader-writers and the editor iiul the sub-editors all gone home to bed. to st. Paul's. It was then a little after live, mil there was already a stir. An occasional oot-fall along the principal streets. By the ,imu ho got to Whiteehapel Road there were l good many up and about, and before he ■cached .Stepney f'.reen the day's work was X'ginning. The night had gone and the sun vas rising, for it was six o'clock and a cloudess morning. At ten he presented himself nice more at the accountant's ollicc. " Well ? : 'asked the Chief. "I have come," .said Harry, "to accept Miss -Messenger's oiler." "You seem pretty independent, llow:vcr, that is the ,vay with you working men lowaday.s. I suppose you don't even pre:end to feel any gratitude ?" "I don't pretend," said Harry pretty iotly, " to answer questions outside the work : have to do." The Chief looked at him as if he could, if ic wished, and was not a Christian, annihilate liin. "C'o, young man," he said presently, lointing to the door, "go to your work, iudeneas to his betters a working man conifers flue to himself, I suppose. Go to your ivork." Harry obeyed -without a word, being in meli a rage that lie could not speak. When ie reached his workshop, he found waiting to >e mended an office-stool with a broken leg. : regret to report that this unhappy itool'immediately became .1 stool with tour jroken legs and a kieked-out seat. llairv was for the moment too strong for ;he furniture. Not even the thought of Miss Kennedy s ipnrobation could bring him comfort. Jlc v.is an artisan, he worked by the piece, that vas nothing. The galling thing was to ealise that he must now behave to certain :lasses with a semblance of respect, because low he had his "betters." The day before he was a gentleman who lad no " betters." He was enriched by this iddition to his possessions, and yet he was lot grateful. CHAPTER XVIII. TIIK I'AI.ACK OF 1-T.UGHT. There lies on the west and south-west_ of (irecn .1 triangular district, cons'.stng of "an irregular four-sided figure—what Gucliil beautifully calls .1 trapezium—formed DV the Whiteehapel Koad, the Commercial l-foail, Stepney lircou and High-street, or )amaioa-stre«t, or Jubilee-street, whichever von please to call your frontier. This •avourtil spot exhibits in perfection all the ieadin" features which characterise the great lovless City. It is, in fact, the heart of the East Kud. Its strcev. are mean and without individuality or beauty ; at no season and under no conditions can they ever be picturesque; one can tell, without inquiring, that the lives led in those houses are all after the same model, and that the inhabitants have no pleasures. Everything that -oes to make a city, except the means of amusements, is to betounil here. There are churches and chapels—do not the blackened ruins of Whiteehapel Church standhereV There are superior " seminaries" and "academies." names which linger hero to show where the yearning after'the genteel survives ; there is a Board School, there is the great London Hospital, there arc almshouses there are even squares in it—Sidney S.iuare and Bedford Square to wit—but there are no garden?, amnu'-s theatres, art galleries, libraries, or any kind of amusement whatever. The leading thoroughfare of this quarter is named Oxford-street, which runs nearly ■ill the way from the New Road to Stepney Chureh. ft begins well with some breadth a church and a few trees on one su.e, and almshouses with a few trees on the other. This promise is not kept: it immediately narrows and becomes like the streets which hriuch out of it. a double row of little twostoried houses, all alike. Apparently they are all furnished alike ; in each ground tlooi front there are the red curtains ami thr white blind of respectability, with the little table bearing something, either a basket oi artificial tlowers, or a 'big Bible, or a vase, or a case of stuffed birds from foreign parts, to mark the gentility of the family. A little farther on the houses begin to havt small balconies on the first tloe-r. and an even more genteel. The streets winch nir oil' north and south are "like unto it. lui, meaner. Now the really sad thing aboul this district is that the residents are not th. starving class, or the vicious class, or du drinking cliss : they arc a well-to-do an. thrivin" people, vet tlu-v de?ire no happi , c- Thev do not h-A tin- lack of joy. the) live'in meannes, and arc ontented there •'cnerallv. which is for the most part respect able and wholly dull, and perfectly con tented never to know what-pleasant strollim •ind refill" plic-s. what delightful interestwhat vamd occupation, what sweet diver sions there are in life. \s for the people they follow a great vanet; of" trades. There are " tr.ivetling drapers in abundance ; it is, in fact, the chosen 7 «-ir f,n- of that romantic following; there, aie . onod many .stevedores, which betrays t<l. neighbourhood of docks : there are some wh< follow the mysterious calling ot herbalist, an. 1 believe von could here still buy th. materials for those now forgotton delicacies saloop and tansy pudding, "l ou can. at nicdic'mcs for any disc.se under t». sun if vou know the right herbalist to go to One of thorn is a medium, as well : and ,1 soi •ill 011 him vou iray be cutcit.uiK'd i>v th. :u -tl.-ss prattle of the" - sperruts,'of whom lu knows one or » w °l_ ~ ,^ 1 1 Vl"r T'VuY Shakesptnv, » n-.lilv there are only two ot them. a,;d the.s arc lia.l actors. Tlii-n fbcro are co.kcuttcrs, '•wine merchants- engineers —it \" a "rand thin- for a wmf merchant, .ihoxc all other men to want an en-iueer : novelists uc not want' in.iuuueturers, workers in shell, lac and /.me, sign feitho'r makers -they only pretend to maki feathers : what they 'really do is to buy them, or to pluck them from the birds, and llieii arrau.-e the feathers and trim them : but thej do nor really make them—ship modellers, : small but haughty race ; mat dealers, win. never pass a prison without using bad Winguage, for reasons which many who havi enjoyed the comforts of a prison will WuiibtleSi understand. There arc also a large quantity of people who call themselves teachers oi music. This may be take. a=. mere P ri. c

•i elto go awa'y, or the professor would be ov-ageJ, or ho would bo out of n. . 1* t S same >vay alate\eaTn«l ? ~le»oroEArabie country if an Arab came to visit the I'ut what a lift above the stevedores, P c« terevs, ami father pretenders to bo a protect ° f v"I"ela would plant her Palace in tins region, tea" * hero there exists nothing, absolutelyX. g It ; . V u d rapture while livir.g at the W e»t Ud dutiful are all the deigns o£ i, -1 there bo, anywhere m »■'■<- •"en. •,„ place {or such a pur«a■jf roses . ' 1 ,, jjesidea, on--u one Knd. J Lou •,» further enabled Katurc ! Com.. 4 sombre streets world, ;i more littn. To beautify torv than such a cit> : '>U3 and mderstauds the tiling, on. "--.cof :<> explain why these grim an,. '*» ■vmain without improvement. :hom would seem, in the eyes of p, .vliuion-s people, almost allying in the 1.. Providence. Aikl yet not really so; f,r . :n:iy In; hig-.ied that there are other places ilso titted lur the punishment of these purgatorial souls, for instance, Hoxton, Uotlmal liivcn, IJatUTsca, and the Isle of Dogs. -AiiL'cl.i resolved, therefore, that on tins spt tlw Pabee of .Joy should .stand. Tiiero -iiould lis. fur all who chose to accept it, a general and standing invitation to acropt happ-nrs-s and eicate new forms of delight. >ho would iuvakt,, i u .Kill and lethal u'ie brains a new sense, the new sense of pleasure : sin- would ■Sin- them a craving for things of whirl, aa yet they knew nothing. "She would place within their reach, at no cost whatever, absolutely free for all, the same, enjoyments as are purchased by the rich. A beautiful dream. They should cultivate a noble discontent ; they should gr.idu.ill leani to be critical; they should import iiito their own homes the spirit of discontent; they should cease to look on life as a daily uprising and a down-sitting, a daily mechanical toil, a daily rest, 'Ep cultivate the sense of pleasure is to civilise!" With the majority fjf mankind the sense is undeveloped and is diieily confined to eating and drinking. To teach the people how the capacity of delight may be widened, how it may be taught to throw out branches in all manner of unsuspected directions, was Angela's ambition. A very beautiful dream. She owned so many houses in this district that it was quite easy to find a place suitable for her purpose. She discovered upon the map of her property a whole four-square block of small houses, all her own, bounded north, south, east, and west by streets of other small houses, similar and similarly situated. This site was about five minutes west of Stepney Greeu, and in the district already described. The houses were occupied by weekly tenants, who would find no dilliculty in getting quarters as eligible elsewhere. Some of them were in bad repair ; and what witli maintenance of roofs and chimneys, had debts, midnight fiittings, and other causes, there was little or no income derived from these houses. Mr. Messenger, indeed, who was a hard man, but not unjust, only kept them to save them from the small owner, like Mr. .Bunker, whose necessities and greed mai-e him a rack reut landlord. Having lixed upon her site, Angela next proceeded to have interviews, but not on the spot, where she might be recognised, witli lawyers, and architects, and to unfold partially her design. The area on which the houses stood formed a pretty large plot of ground, ample for her purpose, provided that most was made of the space and nothing wasted. But a great deal was required ; therefore she would have no lordly staircases covering half the ground, nor great anterooms, nor handsome lobbies. Everything, she carefully explained, was to be constructed for u=e and not for show. She wnnted, to begin with, three large halls : one of them was to be a dancing-room, but it might also be a children's playroom, for wet weather: one was to be used for a permanent exhibitition of native talent, in painting, drawing, wood and ivory carving, sculpturing leather work and the like, everything being for sale at lowprices ; the last was to be a library, reading and writing-room. There was also to be a theatre, which would serve as a concert and music room, and was to have au organ in it. In addition to these there were to be a great number of class-rooms for the various arts, accomplishments, and graces that were to be taught by competent professers and lecturers. There were to be other rooms where tired people mi_:ht liml re.-t, quiet, and talk—the women with tea and work, the men with tobacco. And there were to be billiard rooms, a tennis court, a racquet court, a fives court, and a card room. In fact, there was to be space found for almost every kind of recreation. * She did not explain to her architect how she proposed to use this niaguiticcut place of entertainment; it was enough that he should design it and carry out her ideas-: and sho stipulated that no curious enquirers on the spot should be told for what purpose tiie building was destined nor who was the builder. One cannot get designs for a palace iu a week : it was already late in the autumn, after Harry had taken up his appointment, and was busy among the legs of stools, that the houses began to be pulled down and the remnants carted away. Angela pressed on the work : but it seemed a long and tedious delav before the foundations were laid and the walls began slowly to rise. There should have been a great Function when the foundation stone was laid, with a procession of the clergy in white surplices and college caps, perhaps a bishop, Miss Messenger herself, with her friends, a lord or two, tiio ollicers of the nearest Masonic Lodge, a few Foresters, Oddfellows, Bunaloos.' Druids, and Shepherds, a Hag, the charity children, a dozen policemen, and Venetian masts, with a prayer, a hymn, a speech, and a breakfast—nothing short of this should have satisfied the founder. ct she let the opportunity slip, and nothing was done at all : the great building, destined to change the character of the gloomy city into a City of Suushine, was begun with no pomp or outward demonstration. Gangs of workmen cleared away the ignoble bricks ; the little tenements vanished; a broad space bristling with little garden walls gaped where thev had stood ; then the walls vanished ; aiufnothingatall was left but holes where cellars h:-d been : then they raised a hoardin" round the whole, ami began to dig out the foundation. After the hoarding was put up. nothing more, for a long time, was visible Angela used to prowl rouud it m the morning, when her girls were all at work, but fearful lest the architect might I coiue'and reeOKuiso jter. As .=lie saw her Palace begin to grow into existence, she became anxious about its succor The first beatific vision, the rapture of imagination, was over, and would come no more • she had now to face the hard fact ot ! an unsympathetic people who perhaps would n>,t dcMi-e any pleasure-or if any then the pleasure of a" "spree" with plenty of beer. How could the thing be worked if the people themselves would not work it V How many cvuU she reckon upon as her friends V Perhaps two or three at most, 01.! the Hereuleui t i<k for one woman, with two or three disciples'to revolutionise the City of Kast London • Willi this iipmi her mind, her conversations with the intelligent young cabinet-maker became more than usually grave and earnest. He wis himself more serious than of old, booi-i*o bo now occupied so responsible a . ! position iu the Brewery. Their relations remained unchanged. They walked together,I they Hiked and they devised things tor the drawing-room, and especially for Saturday •'I think ' he said, one evening when they were alone except for Nelly in the drawingroom. "1 think that we should never think or talk of working men in the lump, any more than wo think of rich men in a lump. All sorts and conditions of raou are pretty much alike, and what moves one moves all. We are all tempted in the same way ; we can all l.e led in the same way." ■• Yes, but I do not see how that fact were talking, as Angela loved to Cw, 'of the scheme of the Palace. "If the Palace were built, wo snould oiler the people of Stepney, without prejudice Whuoehapel, -Mile End, liow, or even Cablestreet, a many things which at present they cannot get and'do not desire. \ ot they have always Jirovo.l extremely attractive. We oiler the society of the young for the ■iti, il-im-hi'' siiiaiii-, music, acting, which. • m inf-a't ::X".:^fortl.en,sclvos:tobeth e ■>o"* «iii''cr.-', dancers, and musicians.' lUl ""\'iid they 'cannot do anything." .. livw cin : the rest will come in. You ~.t Mi«s Kennedy, the honour and glory f !!V;.r.' and performing in public. C'ul there be a reward than the '^T.'j^cou'ld"never bo jo nice," said Nelly, •• to d-uieo in a «reat hall among a lot of people'as to danco°up here, all by ourselves."

The Palace was not, in these days, very greatly in the young man's mind. Ho was occupied with o;her things ; his own work and position ; the wisdom of his choice ; the prospects of the future. For snrcly, if he had exchanged the old life aud got nothing in return but work at a lathe all day at tenpence an hour, the change was a bad one. Nothing more had been said to him by Miss Kennedy about the great things he was to do, with her, for her, among his people. \Vas_ he, then, supposed to find out for lumscli these great things? And , ho made no more way with his wooing; That was stopped, apparently, altogether; Always kind to kim ; always well pleased see him ; always receiving him with the same sweet and gracious -smile; always frank and open with him ; but nothing more. Of late he had observed that her mind was greatly occupied; she was brooding over something ; he feared that it might be something to do with the Associated Dressmakers' financial position. She did not communicate her anxieties to him, but always, when they ■where alone, wanted to go back to their vision of the Palace. Harry possessed a ready sympathy; he fell easily and at once into the direction suggested by another's words. Therefore, when Angela talked about the Palace, he too took up the thread of invention, and made believe with her as if it were a thing possible, a thing of brick and mortar. "I see," he went on this evening, warming to the work, "1 see the opening day, long announced, of the Palace. The halls are furnished and lit up ; the dancing-room j is ready ;'the theatre is completed, and the electric lights are lit; the concert-i - ooms arc ready with their music-stands aud their seats. Tlio doors are open. Then a wonderful thing happens." " What is that?" asked Angela. " Nobody comes." ••Ohi". " The vast chambers echo with the footsteps of yourself, Miss Kennedy, and of Nelly, who makes no more noise than a demure kitten* Captaiu Sorenseu and I make as mucfl" trampling as we can, to produce the etlect of a crowd. But it hardly seems to succeed. Then come the girls, and we try to get up a dance ; but, as Nelly says, it is not quite the same as your drawingroom. Presently two men, with pipes in their mouths, come in and look about them. I explain that the stage is ready for them if they like to act, or the concert-room, if tiiey ■will sins, or the dancing-room, should they wish to sliake a leg. They stare and they go away. Then we shut up the doors and go away and cry." "Oh, Mr. Goslett, have you no other comfort for me ?"

"Plenty of comfort. "While wo are all crying, somebody has a happy thought. I think it is Nelly." She blushed a pretty rosy red. "I am sure I could never suggest anything." "Nelly suggests that we shall oiler prizes, a quantity of prizes for competition in everything, the audience or the spectators to be judges : and then the Palace will be filled and the universal reign of joy will begin." " Can we afford prizes ?" asked Angela, the practical. "Miss Kennedy," said Harry severely, " permit me to remind you that, in carry ing out this project, money, /or the first time in the world's history, is*to be of no value." If Newnham does not teach women to originate—which a thousand Newnhams will never do—it teaches them to catch at an idea and develop it. The young workman suggested her Palace ; but his first rough idea was a poor thing compared with Angela's finished structure — a wigwam beside a castle, a tabernacle beside a cathedral. Angela was devising an experiment, the like of which lias never yet been tried upon restless and dissatisfied mankind. She was going, in short, to say to them : "Life is full, crammed full, overflowing with all kinds of delights; It is a mistake to suppose that only rich people can. enjoy these things. They may buy them, but evsrybody may create them ; they cost nothing. You shall learn music, and forthwith all the world will be transformed for you; you shall learn to paint, to carve, to model, to design, and the clay shall bo too short to contain the happiness you will get out of it. You shall learn to dance, and know the rapture of the waltz. You shall learn the great art of acting, and give each other the pleasure which rich men buy. You shall even learn the great art of writing, and learn the magic of a "charmed phrase. All these things which make the life of rich people happy shall be yours ; and they shall o-J 1/011 untltiiuj. AVhat the heart of man can desire shall be • yours, ami for nothing. I will give you a house to shelter you, and rooms in which to play ; you have only to find the rest. Enter in, my "friends; forget the squalid past; here are great liafls and lovely corridors—they are yours. Fill them with sweet echoes of dropping music ; let the walls be covered with your works of art; let the girls laugh and the boys he happy within these wails. I give you the shell, the empty carcase ; fill it with the Spirit of Happiness and Content." Would they, to begin with, "behave according ':" it was easy to bring together half-a-dozen dressmakers ; girls always like behaving nicely; would the young men be equally amenable? And would the policeman be inevitable", as in the corridors of a theatre ? The police, however, would have to be voluntary, like every other part of the Institution, and the guardians of the peace must, like the performers in the entertainments, give their services for nothing. For which end, Harry suggested, it would be highly proper to have a professor of the noble art of self-defence, with others of fencing, single-stick, quarter-staff, and other kindred objects. [To be continued.]