III.—THE BAR.
Undoubtedly the Bar possesses a charm that belongs to no other profession. Not only are its possibilities magnificent, extending as they do to the Woolsack, but it has the further attraction of being the one calling wherein the youthful aspirant may rely upon his personal attributes even more than upon industry and training for success. Many instances could be mentioned of eminent leaders who have been inundated with briefs, and have easily made their £10,000 or more a year, not on account of their legal lore, but because they have been brilliant and persuasive speakers, charming of manner, and quick at repartee.
Perhaps it is natural that most of the smart young graduates who swell the ranks of the Bar should feel themselves fully equipped, if not in their store of learning, at least in personal qualifications. But it is unfortunately a fact that this feeling of youthful confidence, admirable in itself, has in a great measure led to the growth of a numerous army of needy barristers, many of whom are only too anxious to pick up an occasional guinea at the County or the Criminal Courts.
THE TEMPLE: "HERE LIES OLIVER GOLDSMITH."
The prizes of the Bar are only for the few, and the disappointments for the many. This uncertainty itself, perhaps, is an attraction to some of the numerous aspirants who would emulate the successes of Cockburn, Ballantine, Russell, Davey, and other great counsel. The advocates' profession is a very ancient one, and goes back to Roman times. The independence of the Bar has always been its greatest boast. Whether it has worthily maintained that characteristic of recent years is a question that we shall discuss later on, but that it did so formerly there can be no doubt. In illustration of this, we may relate a story of a counsel named Wilkins, who was defending a prisoner before Baron Gurney, a very severe judge. Wilkins thought that the judge had made up his mind to convict the prisoner, and, in the course of his address to the jury, he had the temerity to say: "There exist those upon the Bench who have the character of convicting judges. I do not envy their reputation in this world, or their fate hereafter!" The prisoner was in the end acquitted, but whether as the result of this attack, which Baron Gurney felt very keenly, or not, it is impossible to say. It may be doubted whether any advocate nowadays would venture to speak in a similar way. It is possible, however, that Baron Gurney was unaware of his reputation for severity, and Mr. Wilkins' remarks may have had a salutary effect upon him.
The appointment of barristers is now effected by the four Inns of Court, namely, the Inner Temple, the Middle Temple, Lincoln's Inn, and Gray's Inn. These Inns are voluntary associations, having no statutory powers, and it is only by virtue of ancient custom that they enjoy the right of calling students to the Bar. They are respectively governed by a self-elected body called "Benchers," who consist of the judges, a number of Queen's counsel, and a few veteran "juniors." The barristers as a class have no voice in the management of the Inns, or in the discipline of their profession. The social status of the Bar has of late years deteriorated, although it is true that barristers are generally drawn from a much higher social level than solicitors. Individual merit is, somewhat erroneously perhaps, supposed to be as great a factor for success as interest, and this, together with other considerations that we have already alluded to, induces a large proportion of the most accomplished University graduates to devote themselves to the Bar in preference to any other profession. University men, however, are not the only aspirants to the Woolsack, whose first step is to obtain a call to the Bar. There is quite a gathering of coloured gentlemen in the Middle Temple, including natives of India, many of whom, no doubt, intend to practise in their own courts; Hottentots, Negroes, Mongolians, dreamy-eyed Japanese, and perhaps an occasional Redskin—many of whom seem to take to the methods of European civilisation quite naturally.
NEW COURT, MIDDLE TEMPLE.
The Inner Temple is considered more fashionable than the Middle, and is preferred by University men, especially perhaps those who are prejudiced in favour of uniformity of colour in their fellow-students. Lincoln's Inn and Gray's Inn call comparatively few men to the Bar.
MIDDLE TEMPLE LIBRARY.
Some particulars of the process of being "called to the Bar" may be of interest. The aspiring barrister must remain a student for three years, and will have to pay nearly £200 in stamp duty and fees to his Inn. Exception is, however, made in the case of solicitors, who, under recent regulations, can be admitted to the Bar without delay on payment of the fees. Within the last fifteen years an examination has been instituted for all students except solicitors, the latter having been examined by their own society; but, before that time, it was only necessary to eat twenty-four dinners a year for three years in the Hall of the Inn, besides paying the fees, in order to become qualified for the Bar. The dinners are still retained, and although it is not pretended that students insensibly imbibe legal knowledge with their meals in the atmosphere of the picturesque old dining halls, there can be no doubt that the dinners serve a useful purpose in enabling the future barristers to form each other's acquaintance. With what mingled feelings these dinners must be looked back upon in after life! Of two boon companions in student days one may, perhaps, be judge of the High Court, while the other is still struggling for a precarious livelihood in the County Court.
Students coming from the Universities are only expected to eat twelve dinners a year. The reason for this distinction is shrouded in mystery, but perhaps some solution may occur to the ingenious mind of the reader. It is usual for students to read with junior counsel in large practice, to whom they pay a hundred guineas a year. In return for this they have the run of the papers, from which they are no doubt enabled in some degree to familiarise themselves with the advocate's profession; if they require tuition, they must employ a regular coach. The examinations, however, are by no means severe. They secure a certain amount of legal knowledge on the part of the barrister, which can easily be acquired by a few attendances at the lectures held at the Inn, and a not very assiduous reading of Roman and Common Law. Upon the completion of his three years, the student is called to the Bar, by going through the solemn ceremony of taking a glass of wine with the Benchers of his Inn, and, together with a crowd of his compeers, listening to a friendly monition from the Senior Bencher, or some other venerable greybeard. Having purchased his wig and gown and a brandnew blue bag, the young barrister is then started on his career. He takes chambers in the Temple or Lincoln's Inn, which he probably shares with some other aspirants, and then proceeds on his way to the Woolsack.
CORRIDOR, INNER TEMPLE HALL.
The sensations of a young barrister when he first addresses the Court are usually somewhat agonising. Serjeant Ballantine describes his first experience as follows:—"I rose, but could see nothing; the court seemed to turn round and the floor to be sinking. I cannot tell what I asked, but it was graciously granted by the Bench."
He sat down with a parched throat and a sort of sickening feeling that he would never succeed. "Most successful advocates," he adds, "have experienced these sensations, and to this day I believe that many rise to conduct cases of importance with some of their old emotions."
The work of the Bar is divided into several sections, so that the beginner has a fairly wide choice as to which department of his profession he will make his own. There is the Parliamentary Bar, the Common Law Bar, the Equity Bar, and the Criminal Bar; and besides these, several barristers are exclusively occupied with Patents and Conveyancing.
But there are sections within sections, consisting of small coteries of specialists who devote themselves to the Divorce Court, to the Privy Council, or to Admiralty work.
While the majority of barristers pass the legal year in the Metropolis, except when on circuit, there are a good many who settle down in populous districts and become known in the profession as local barristers. Both Common Law and Equity men who are, through the pressure of competition, unable to make their way in London, or who perhaps have the advantage of being related to some eminent firm of provincial solicitors, prefer the certainty of making a decent livelihood in a busy manufacturing town to the keener competition of the Metropolis.
They are somewhat looked down upon by their brethren in London, the work in the provinces being of an inferior kind, mainly confined to the police courts, county courts, and quarter sessions.
The occupation of the local barrister, in fact, does not commend itself to the majority of the Bar, notwithstanding that a few are able to make their £2,000 or £3,000 a year.
INNER TEMPLE HALL.
The Parliamentary Bar, probably the most lucrative branch of the profession, is engaged in Private Bill business before Parliamentary Committees. A popular Parliamentary Q.C. will make as much as £20,000 a year, and sometimes even those figures are exceeded. The leading "silks" have always a great number of cases going on at the same time before Committees of the Lords and Commons, and they spend their day in walking from one committee-room to another, opening a case here, replying on a case there, and cross-examining witnesses whose evidence-in-chief they have never heard. This perambulatory practice led to such abuse that in 1861 the committees decided not to allow a barrister to cross-examine who had not been present during the whole of the examination-in-chief, and recently Mr. Hanbury has endeavoured to enforce this rule. No doubt it is, generally speaking, a wholesome regulation, for the reiteration by successive counsel of the same questions leads to an inordinate waste of public time and money. It ought, however, to be enforced with moderation, for it by no means follows that a counsel who has not heard the examination-in-chief is the less able to cross-examine effectively. One of the objects of cross-examination, it should be understood, is to elicit fresh facts, and in that respect it is not necessarily dependent upon evidence-in-chief.
Undoubtedly cross-examination is one of the most difficult as well as one of the most important of a counsel's duties, and a barrister who makes his mark in this particular function is pretty certain to be in general request. It is no less important to know what questions to put than what to refrain from asking. Many counsel are too apt to imagine that by browbeating a witness, and overwhelming him with a multitude of questions, they are conducting their cross-examination effectively. Baron Alderson once withered up an advocate of this character by remarking: "Mr. So-and-so, you seem to think that the art of cross-examination is to examine crossly."
The Parliamentary Bar certainly numbers within its ranks several highly-talented counsel, not the least eminent of whom are Mr. Pope, Mr. Bidder, Mr. Littler, and Mr. Pembroke-Stephens, of whom we give portraits. We have already referred to the great incomes that are made in this department of the Bar, and when it is remembered that the work is limited to the time during which Parliament is sitting, it becomes apparent that the fees paid to leading counsel must be enormous. Indeed, the fees marked on their briefs often amount to hundreds of guineas, and the junior gets a sum equal to two-thirds of the amount paid to the leader, except in cases where the latter receives a special fee. And, added to this, both receive a refresher of fifteen guineas a day. Surely such payment is excessive.
MR. LITTLER. MR. PEMBROKE-STEPHENS. MR. BIDDER. MR. POPE.
In one very essential particular the members of the Equity Bar differ in their customs from other branches of their profession. Practising before the five Chancery judges and the Chancery Court of Appeal, the leaders of the Equity Bar attach themselves to particular Courts, and invariably decline to leave their own favourite sphere of operations to appear in another Court without a special fee. The result of this arrangement is that litigants employing eminent counsel in Chancery cases can be almost certain of their attendance throughout. However heavy may be the fees paid to counsel of the Equity Bar, it can at least be said that they generally give full value for their money—a gratifying compliment that can hardly be extended to other branches of the profession. But satisfactory as the system may seem to be from the client's point of view, experience shows that it is not without its serious disadvantages. The continuous contact of particular counsel with particular judges is varying in its effects. In some cases it leads to an undue influence on the part of the counsel over the judges, while in others the judges use their power to such an overbearing extent that even eminent Queen's counsel are sometimes subjected to a degree of abasement that is painful to witness. The demeanour of one or two of the Equity judges is, in fact, characterised by an absurd pomposity, and, however great their abilities, they are not so high-minded as to disdain the petty delight of trying to humiliate the leaders of the Bar. There have been several instances of a judge taking a personal dislike to a counsel, and by making him feel it on every possible occasion, practically dismissing him from the Court. Thus it will be recognised that the system gives judges too much power over members of the Bar.
There are always two favourite "silks" in each Court, who practically divide the work between them. The special fees that we have already referred to are, however, frequently obtained by eminent Queen's counsel. The greatest advocates of the Equity Bar—like Sir Horace Davey or Mr. Rigby—do not attach themselves to any Court, and will not, in fact, appear in Court at all without a special fee. The incomes made by some of the most eminent Equity counsel are prodigious. Lord Selborne, when Sir Roundell Palmer, is said to have made over £30,000 a year; and rumour has it that neither Sir Horace Davey nor Mr. Rigby are earning much less than that amount.
Although, as a rule, the members of the Equity Bar do not shine in public life, it has nevertheless associated with it several distinguished names, such as those of Westbury, Cairns, and Selborne, all of whom found in the Chancery Courts the stepping-stone to fame.
The Criminal Bar of London congregates at the Old Bailey (which is the Assize Court for the Metropolis and part of the Home Counties) as well as at the Middlesex and Surrey Sessions, held respectively at Clerkenwell and Newington. In speaking of the Criminal Bar, the brilliant exploits of such men as Ballantine, Parry, Huddleston, Gifford, Hawkins, and Clarke naturally occur to one's memory. But what a sad falling off is now apparent! There is not a single name of distinction now associated with the historic Court that has in the past resounded to the eloquence of so many splendid advocates. Nowadays the mention of the Criminal Bar only brings to mind such men as the Government prosecutor (official in all but name), Mr. Poland, and a crowd of lesser lights, among whom Mr. Forest Fulton, M.P., and Mr. Gill stand forth as the most talented. There are at the Criminal Bar a number of newly-fledged barristers, and several indigent and disappointed men who are content to gain a small and precarious livelihood. A handful secure a respectable living, and comparatively large incomes are only made in two or three cases, notably among those who have Treasury work. The compulsory litigants, who often have to send the hat round among their friends for the purpose, can for the most part only provide small fees, and small as they are, they do not always reach the hands of counsel.
MR. BESLEY. MR. C. MATTHEWS. MR. C. F. GILL. MR. POLAND. MR. FOREST FULTON.
It may be interesting to mention here the curious fact that barristers cannot recover their fees at law. The fee, it appears, is an honorarium, and nothing more. Of course, while barristers have no legal claim for their fees, no action for negligence, however gross, can lie against them; and it is obvious that, if the power were accorded to them of recovering their fees at law, they would also be liable to action in case of negligence. If we may judge by the very rare occasions of actions for negligence being successful against solicitors, there is no reason why they should have any terrors for counsel. It would certainly be satisfactory to see the barrister's profession put upon a more business-like footing. Advocates are, under the present conditions, sometimes the prey of unscrupulous solicitors, who hand them briefs marked with tempting fees that are never paid, and when these harpies have tired out the patience of one guileless counsel, they devote similarly undesirable attentions to another. Happily, such solicitors are comparatively few; but even respectable firms often avail themselves of the inability of counsel to recover fees by taking unconscionable credit.
The system should be changed, and if barristers were made liable for negligence it would, perhaps, have a wholesome effect in preventing some of them from accepting briefs to which they or their clerks must know that they cannot attend.
To return to the Criminal Bar, one cannot help observing how great is the disadvantage at which a prisoner is sometimes placed. The unfortunate man has perhaps been unable by himself or his friends to find the necessary funds to instruct a counsel, or perhaps he has managed to scrape together a guinea, which he hands over the dock, as his case is called, to some inexperienced barrister, who thereupon finds himself face to face with a wary and experienced advocate like Mr. Poland or Mr. Gill. The prisoner's chances of vindicating himself, innocent though he may be, must be greatly reduced by the disadvantages under which he labours.
The State, which expends enormous sums for the conviction of criminals, ought, undoubtedly, as is the case in many other countries, to provide legal assistance for the accused in order to secure a fair trial. So far as we are aware, there is only one case in which this is done in England, namely, when an offence, while in the execution of duty, is charged against a member of the police force, a body of men who are in a much better position to secure for themselves legal assistance than the majority of ordinary prisoners.
MR. INDERWICK. SIR EDWARD CLARKE.
Perhaps the deplorable dearth of highly talented men at the Criminal Bar is in some degree accounted for by the curious circumstance that when a man once becomes a criminal lawyer he can be nothing else. The dismal atmosphere of the Old Bailey seems to permeate all his future prospects, and he is rarely able to emerge from it into the higher ranks of his profession. The Lord Chancellor, Mr. Justice Hawkins, and Sir Edward Clarke are, perhaps, the only living instances to the contrary; but even they belong to a somewhat bygone time, and were never exclusively criminal lawyers.
The leading common-law work of the High Court is practically divided among a dozen or so eminent Queen's counsel. It is a matter of common complaint that the leaders accept briefs, knowing well at the time they receive them that they will not be able to attend to them. There is a good deal of truth in this, although the supposed delinquents are able to put forward a very plausible plea of justification. It is certain that they cannot always know what briefs they will be able to give full attention to, seeing that there are a number of Courts engaged in trying cases some of which may last days, and some only minutes. Indeed, a counsel with a very small practice may find that, owing to the unexpected manner in which the cases on the list are sometimes disposed of, the two or three briefs that have been entrusted to him may all require his attention in different Courts on the same day, although when he accepted them he might reasonably have anticipated that the cases would be called on different days. It must, however, be admitted that there are some eminent counsel who accept briefs, although it is morally certain that they will be unable to give them any personal attention.
No other professional man expects to be paid for work that he does not perform, and there can be no doubt that the proper course for counsel overwhelmed with briefs to pursue is to return those that he cannot attend to, thereby enabling his client to obtain legal assistance elsewhere, and at the same time distributing a little work among his less fortunate brethren of the Bar. The public are, however, at fault in insisting on retaining an eminent advocate at a fancy price, when their cases could be just as well conducted at much smaller cost by men whose names figure less frequently in the reports of important trials. In any sensational cause célèbre it is almost certain that the names of Sir Charles Russell, Sir Edward Clarke, and Mr. Lockwood, will appear on one side or the other. These eminent men have, in fact, the pick of the work, and the same may be said, in regard to great commercial cases, of Sir R. Webster and Mr. Finlay, and, before his recent elevation to the Bench, of Mr. Henn-Collins.
The work of a somewhat less distinguished character is in the hands of half a dozen Queen's counsel, among whom may be mentioned Mr. Kemp, Mr. Willis, Mr. Jelf, and Mr. Winch, while there is a "tail" of "silks" who, not being fortunate enough to rank as popular favourites, have to content themselves with a very much smaller practice as well as smaller fees. Under the present conditions there is nothing like a fair distribution of work among the leaders of the Bar. This is perhaps in a great measure due to the action of solicitors, who, if they have a rich client in a big action, are sure to run after one of the half-dozen most popular advocates, and with a less wealthy client they will retain one of the next half-dozen. It is indeed curious to observe how slavishly solicitors run after the most eminent counsel on the chance of securing their services, rather than entrust their briefs to less noted men, who, even if their ability be less, would at least make up for it by greater assiduity and closer attention. The result is that these favoured gentlemen may be seen popping in and out of the ten or twelve Queen's Bench Courts that are sitting at the same time, examining a witness in one place, and addressing the jury in another; while their imperfect knowledge of their cases must inevitably tell to the disadvantage of their clients, who perhaps have paid them fees of one or even two hundred guineas, with corresponding refreshers.
SIR HENRY JAMES. SIR RICHARD WEBSTER. SIR CHARLES RUSSELL.
From what we have said it will be obvious that it is only the very few who can hope to become wealthy at the Bar, and such a lottery is "taking silk" that many "juniors" refuse to have the distinction conferred upon them, preferring the modest income that they are able to earn to the uncertainty and disappointment that falls to the lot of most of those who become leaders. Even a prosperous junior who gives up his practice to become a Q.C. runs the risk of being left out in the cold altogether.
A state of things that practically places the monopoly of the legal work in a few hands tends neither to the advantage of the public nor to the prosperity of the Bar as a body. The evil is undoubtedly caused by the centralisation of litigation in London, and the compression within a few months of the year of the whole of the High Court business. There is no valid reason why the Courts should not sit the whole year through, and barristers and judges take their holidays as they personally like to arrange. The amalgamation of the two branches of the legal profession has been much discussed in recent years, and it has many warm advocates both among barristers and solicitors, one of the strongest being the Solicitor-General. But no doubt the majority are opposed to the suggested change. Its supporters, in fact, are for the most part to be found among ambitious young solicitors who have acquired a taste for advocacy in the Police and County Courts. They urge that it would cheapen litigation, inasmuch as there would be only one person to pay instead of two, and they point to the United States and to the Colonies as indicating that amalgamation would work well. In great cities, however, the division of labour between the advocate and the solicitor, although theoretically non-existent, is in reality very similar to what it is in this country. The advocate must always be the advocate, and nothing more, and the drudgery of preparing the material for him to work upon must be reserved for other persons, whether they occupy the position of solicitors, partners, or clerks.
Under the present system, a solicitor can exercise his judgment in retaining the counsel most suited to his client's case, an advantage which would disappear if solicitors had barristers for partners. The solicitor, it should be remembered, has multifarious duties in connection with litigation, whilst the barrister is only the adviser on points of law and the advocate. It is further to be observed that the barrister, not being associated with the pecuniary interests of his client, but arguing his case solely on legal grounds, and on the weight of evidence, possesses a degree of independence and a reputation for trustworthiness which, if he were a solicitor as well, he would be unable to enjoy. It is not from an amalgamation, such as that suggested, that an amelioration of the present system is to be looked for. Notwithstanding its high reputation, the Bar, by tamely submitting to a system that works out to its own detriment, is itself responsible not only for its own unsatisfactory condition, whereby the bulk of the profits of the profession go into a few hands, but also in a considerable degree for the gross defects of our judicial system. Recently the members of the Bar have formed among themselves a Bar Committee to protect their interests, but it appears to have done little practical work, and to be little more than a mutual admiration society.
IN THE TEMPLE CHURCH.
It is obviously to the interest of the leading and wealthy members of the profession, several of whom are legislators, that the present state of things should continue. They make splendid incomes within the short legal year; while the Long Vacation, which completely closes the Courts, prevents the intrusion of competitors during their holidays. The present system practically secures to them a monopoly of work, and gives them an extravagant time for rest and enjoyment. The Long Vacation, then, which is also the chief cause of the law's delay, is at the root of the evil. The younger barristers as well as the less lucky Queen's counsel, who are anxious for work that they are fully capable of performing, would regard with pleasure the abolition or curtailment of the Vacation, as a means of enabling them to share in that work which cannot properly be done within the brief period now occupied.
Are the members of the Bar, notwithstanding all their boasted independence, afraid to speak out even in their own interests? They alone are capable of properly exposing the scandals of our judicial system, and of bringing about improvements that would be as much to the advantage of the public as of themselves; and yet their voice is uniformly silent. It is certain that had the leaders of the Bar opened their lips in the House of Commons, those scandals to which we adverted in former articles would either have been non-existent or would have been promptly remedied. It is not, however, from the leaders of the Bar that reform is to be expected; the first step must be taken by the rank and file, who, by a united movement showing that they do indeed possess independence and grit, will increase their own prosperity and at the same time commend themselves to the public.
[The Home for Lost Dogs.]
The Home for Lost Dogs, near Battersea Park, is a veritable haven of rest for the "lost and strayed." It was started in the most unpretentious way, some thirty years ago, in a back kitchen at Islington; to-day its premises possess ample accommodation for the temporary lodging of over 20,000 wanderers every year; indeed, during 1890, no fewer than 21,593 passed through its gates (homes being found for 3,388), 1,771 were restored to their owners, and 1,617 new homes were provided where satisfactory safeguards were assured. Such are the interesting canine statistics given to us as we start on our tour of inspection, under the guidance of Mr. Matthias Colam, the secretary.
We have entered the great red gates, and stand for a moment upon the threshold of the Receiving House, for a van passes almost at our elbow. Its appearance suggests "police"; at any rate, the driver is an indisputable representative of law and order in mufti. Those familiar cries betray who the inmates are—all sorts and conditions of dogs picked up by the police; this is a deposit of some thirty lost animals about to find apartments for a time. When the muzzling order was first put into force, such a van would have to run over to Battersea three and four times a day, and then leave a load of the lost behind. The conveyance is specially constructed for this purpose. Our friendly "policeman in plain clothes" opens the back door, and there one can see that the interior of the van is made into a tenement of two floors, the bigger dogs being placed below, and the more diminutive species above. Iron rings are arranged round the sides, to which the animals are attached by their chains. A small but important apartment, however, is that placed at the bottom of the van, between the two back wheels. It takes the form of a cage, with iron bars and a grating of fine wire. This is designed for the accommodation of a more than usually troublesome dog, sometimes one that is mad, so that he is carried from the police-station to the "Home" without upsetting the quieter-disposed dispositions of his fellow-animals above.
IN THE CAGE.
Of course some dogs are brought here by kind-hearted individuals other than the police, and as many as 500 from all sources have been received in the course of a day. It is impossible to single out one part of London more famous for its "lost" than another—they arrive from the East and from the West. That delightful little King Charles which is just now cuddled up in a corner of the Receiving House has probably strayed from its customary luxuriousness of a drawing-room in Belgravia—it will surely be claimed in a few hours—whilst its next-door neighbour is a bull-dog, with a prodigious head, which strongly suggests pugilism and Whitechapel. The Receiving House is situated on your immediate right. It is the first room into which the lost dog goes when it claims admission to the home. A dozen dogs are waiting to be examined—collies, fox terriers, and two or three nondescripts in addition to the tiny King Charles and massive bull-dog already caught sight of. On a beam above, which stretches from one side of the apartment to the other, are hanging the chains and collars of the animals admitted during the past week, under their proper divisions of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and so on. This little collection of a dozen are taken in hand one by one. Should any of them be suffering from rabies, they are at once sent to the "Condemned Cell," to which we shall presently pay a visit. The hon. veterinary surgeon, A. J. Sewell, Esq., is sent for, and if he endorses the opinion of the receiver—himself a man who "knows a dog"—the animal is at once destroyed. Some poor creatures pass a day or two in the Infirmary, and are quickly mended under kind and humane treatment, whilst those dogs who have had their day, and are past all aid, are destroyed.
THE RECEIVING ROOM.
This Receiving House has been accorded Royal patronage, for amongst what might be called the canine sweepings of London who have found their way here, the Duchess of Teck's dog has looked in; so has the Marquis of Harrington's, and Lord Brassey's. Amongst the rarest of the wanderers located here have been a couple of African sand dogs, little creatures without a vestige of hair on their bodies, saving a relieving tuft on the head. Even at the Dogs' Home many a romance might be found. Think of a poor lost creature being picked up for a few shillings—for dogs may be purchased after a certain lapse of time—and then running away with its new owner and winning an important prize at the Brighton show! More startling still was the case of a bloodhound sold to Mr. Mark Beaufoy, M.P., for a small sum. That dog, once numbered amongst the lost, was destined to become the mother of the champion bloodhound of the world—"Cromwell." Dogs have been sold over and over again and have returned. One little story which we hear as we pass into the main yard is worth repeating.
"Bluebeard" was his name, and he was a lively boarhound. All that is known of his early life is that he was found walking about, without visible means of subsistence, in the vicinity of Wandsworth. He was lost—hence, away with him to Battersea. On four separate occasions "Bluebeard" was restored, and every time he found his way back. One night, after the gates were closed, the keeper heard a tap-tap-tap at the entrance. It was the paw of a dog, and when the keeper opened the door it was none other than our old friend "Bluebeard" who had delivered himself up again for the third time. When he crept in he went straight to his former kennel. Eventually, "Bluebeard" was despatched to the country, where, according to the latest reports, he is doing well.
We are now on our way to the kennels—fine, light, airy, and well-built places. We pause just a moment, however, in the playground; for all the bigger kennels have a playground in the rear, where the dogs are let out to enjoy a merry gambol, or indulge in the luxury of a shower-bath, where at one end of the ground a fountain is playing, under the refreshing sprays of which the dogs delight to run. Wooden boxes are provided under which the animals may go in the summer months, when the sun proves too warm for them, or shelter from the rain during an occasional shower, or inclement weather. This particular playground is inhabited principally by large dogs—retrievers, Scotch collies, greyhounds, and even what are generally known as carriage-dogs. We invite them to the sides of the playground—round which substantial iron bars run—and what a noise is there! Yet we are assured that at night not a sound is to be heard—the sudden shriek of the whistle of a passing train over the bridge close at hand, or the warning note of a steam tug on the river never disturbs them. Dogs in company seem to ensure contentment. You may peep into half a dozen other playgrounds, where the creatures will be found to be more of a diminutive type—hundreds of fox-terriers; indeed, it would seem that the lost terriers number ten times more than any of the other species, whilst retrievers and collies vie with each other for next place on the roll. And round these immense open cages good people wander with distressful countenances in search of those who have left their kennels in the back garden without notice, or wagged their tails for freedom by forsaking the comforts of the hearth-rug in the front parlour. Suddenly a visitor recognises and is recognised.
"Jack, Jack!" the owner cries. Jack jumps up in mad delight, barks and barks again, makes a frantic effort to pull down the iron bars in its joy, but all to no avail. Then a keeper enters the playground, picks Jack up in his arms, and surely never was a happier recognition. It is really this that those in authority at Battersea depend upon more than anything else, so as to ensure the lost animal being returned to its rightful owner. As a rule, the person losing a dog goes into the yard accompanied by a keeper. He picks out a dog, and it is fastened near the gates, where it can be seen from the office. The owner is invited to this part of the yard, and the keeper watches how the dog and its master meet one another again. This simple plan seldom fails. Furthermore, a set of questions have to be answered by the claimant, and mistakes seldom occur.
THE PLAYGROUND.
It is whilst we are watching the dogs at play, just as Jack—lost no longer—is tripping away merrily over the stones of the yard, that we are entertained with numerous anecdotes by our genial guide. We hear of a devoted owner of a little pet terrier. Hers was but an instance of many who come several miles in search of their favourites. This lady travelled some six or seven miles every day for a week in the hopes of having this same little terrier returned to her. It was the last day of the week, and there was the affectionate owner scanning eagerly every dog that entered. At last the rumble of the wheels of the police van was heard, and when the door was opened, there amongst the other inmates lay a tiny creature in the corner fast asleep.
"That's Dot! my little Dot!" cried the lady, and at the sound of her voice the wandering terrier jumped up, and seemed as though it would go mad ere one of the assistants could loosen its chain. Dot went away again with its mistress.
THE KENNELS.
It is needless to say—to put it kindly—that wrongful appropriators of dogs occasionally pay a visit to Battersea, and a capital story is told of one of these gentry who had seen a kind-hearted policeman taking in a lost pug that same morning.
"Good mornin', sir," said this worthy, entering the office; "I've lost my dawg, and if you don't mind, I should feel mich obliged if yer'd let me 'ave a look round the 'ome?"
"What sort of a dog was it?" asked the secretary, coming in at that moment, and recognising the man as a well-known dog stealer. "When did you lose it?"
"This mornin', sir. An' it's a pug, with a collar and studs and a blue ribbin round its neck."
"Quite right—we had such a dog come in this morning," the secretary said. "Just wait a moment—sit down."
Our friend from Whitechapel did, evidently much pleased with his tactics.
In a few moments he was invited to step into the yard, where some four or five pugs were held in check by a keeper.
"Which is yours?" was asked.
"Vy, that's it, sir—that with the collar and blue ribbon round 'is neck. See 'ow 'e knows me!"
When this enterprising gentleman was told that the dog he had chosen had been in the home a fortnight, and, further, that the collar and ribbon had been taken off the real dog's neck and temporarily decorated the throat of another animal, Whitechapel was somewhat abashed, and was glad to get away.
The principal kennels are in the centre of the yard, and are divided into compartments denoting the various days on which the dog entered, so that at the completion of the period which the law requires all dogs should be kept, the animal will have been a temporary tenant of all of them in rotation. The two sexes are separated immediately they enter, and you may walk down the centre avenue enjoying the frolics of the merriest of fox-terriers in one cage, and stay to admire the fine coat of a lost St. Bernard, or pat a good-looking collie on the back as they look almost pitifully towards you. This little army of dogs eat some two tons of biscuits and meal in a fortnight. At six o'clock, when the place is closed, the dogs are bedded down with plenty of clean straw and a liberal supply of sawdust, and every hour a night watchman goes his rounds to see that there is no fighting, and to attend to the Crematorium—the latter one of the most important branches in the work of the institution.
There is just a moment to peep in at a substantial looking shed, specially built for the protection of puppies born at the Home. A magnificent St. Bernard is lying convalescent in the corner. Then, in another part of the yard, more kennels are visited, scrupulously clean, patterns of neatness; and one compartment in the far corner rivets our attention for the moment, for a blue enamelled plate bears the significant word "Dangerous." It would not be well at any time to attempt to cultivate the acquaintance of any of its inmates.
"DANGEROUS."
The Home has every reason to be proud of its collies. It was a smooth-coated collie borrowed from the Home for Lost Dogs which figured so prominently in the last Military Tournament at the Agricultural Hall. The dog was borrowed for the purpose of testing the value of the German system of sending messages by these useful creatures during the progress of military operations in time of war. The dog was attached to a cyclist who rode the whole length of the hall—over bridges, ruts, and other difficulties in the way—the animal following him. Then the cyclist wrote a message, and tied it round the collie's neck. The way was pointed out to him, he took a silent view of the road before him, and then, with a sudden bark suggestive that he understood, away the collie went, and delivered the despatch safely as required. This dog is now the property of Major Crabb.
We are now nearing what is, perhaps, the most important part of the Battersea Home, the Infirmary—which is practically the condemned cell—the Lethal Chamber, and the Crematorium. The condemned cell is a huge kennel separated into two compartments, through the iron grating of which often as many as a hundred dogs are to be counted. It should be said that a dog is never put to death unless it is past all cure, and, further, that the means employed are as quick and humane as scientists have yet discovered. For many years the method of killing was by the administration of hydrocyanic acid, but Dr. B. W. Richardson, F.R.S., conclusively proved that the most painless way of causing death was by the use of narcotic vapour, and he superintended the erection of an excellent Lethal Chamber, which was finished in May, 1884, and since then has been in constant use.
THE CONDEMNED CELL.
It is possible to narcotise as many as a hundred dogs at one time. This generally takes place at night. The unfortunate animals are conveyed from the Condemned Cell to a large cage some ten feet long, by four feet in depth and width. Two such cages—each of which is divided into tiers—are here. When the dogs are safely secured in the cage, they are taken to the chamber, the door of which is unlocked, the bar-bolt lifted, and the cage with its inmates is run into the Lethal apartment. Here it remains for some six or seven minutes, during which time the chamber is charged with carbonic acid gas, and a spray of chloroform is pumped in, which the dogs immediately inhale. This process of bringing about all that is needed is not strangulation or suffocation, but is essentially a death sleep. There are also two smaller chambers presented to the Home by Dr. Richardson, constructed on similar principles, intended for use when a dog has to be destroyed at once.
LETHAL CHAMBER AND CREMATORIUM.
Exactly opposite the Lethal Chamber is the Crematorium. This is a white brick structure, with a chimney some 65 ft. high. It is so built that the bodies of the dogs do not in any way come in contact with the fuel; the heat being obtained from the coke furnace below. The door of the Crematorium is wound up by the means of a windlass, and the interior reveals a space of about 10 ft. long by 9 ft. in width. After the lapse of some five or six hours from leaving the Lethal Chamber, the animals are put in here. By the morning all that of them is a few charred bones, and in a corner of the yard may be seen a dozen or so of sacks, containing all that remains of many a domestic pet, waiting for the soap-makers (who buy them) to come and fetch them away. The number of dogs thus destroyed every week averages three hundred.
A very touching incident occurred just where we are standing, only a few weeks before.
A gentleman entered the gates of the home, followed by as pure a a St. Bernard as could be wished for. He said quietly that he wanted it to be destroyed. The secretary looked at it. A valuable dog indeed; a splendid creature. The owner knew it. No money would purchase it, but, unfortunately, the dog had proved himself a bit snappish, and his master had only just paid a considerable sum of money as atonement for damage done. It was to be destroyed.
THE CAT'S HOUSE.
The master left the dog, and said he would return in an hour's time. He did so, and by this time the creature had been taken to the Lethal Chamber, and lay there on a slab apparently asleep. It was hard for his master to believe that he was dead. The gentleman even felt the dog's heart to see if it was beating, but there was no sign of movement. Then he broke down; the strong, stalwart fellow burst into tears as he talked to his favourite. He told the dead creature that they had been companions for ten years, and he felt the parting more than that of a brother.
Again he went away, but the next day found him once more at the gates. He had had no sleep—could he see his dog again? But it was too late. All that was left of the once envied St. Bernard was a few ashes, and without a word the heart-broken master turned and left the place.
One corner of the premises is particularly interesting, and we look in whilst passing. It is the cats' house. These are in many instances stray cats, picked up in West-end areas, and brought to Battersea by benevolent ladies. They are fed twice a day. In the morning they get new milk, and a varied diet of the customary horse-flesh and fish. Many parcels of fish are sent as presents for the cats. The frolicsome pussies have decidedly comfortable quarters, and they, too, have a playground, in which are planted tree trunks, of which they freely avail themselves. One of the cats' houses is peculiarly noticeable. These are the boarders, for cats may be left here at a charge of 1s. 6d. per week. This little collection in front of us is the property of a lady who has no fewer than a dozen here. All have their pet names, and she frequently comes to feed them herself. These splendid Persians and Angoras—the latter with a marvellous tail—have been residents here for some three years, and amongst them may be seen a fine specimen of a Russian cat with a wonderful head, which seems to while away its time by curling itself up in its own particular box or sleeping apartment; and a bob-tail may also be found playing merrily.
As we leave the yard, we look in at the men's reading-room, plentifully supplied with newspapers, and a small library, the shelves of which are principally taken up by volumes of a "doggy" nature. The office, too, must not be forgotten. These rows of immense ledgers contain the records of hundreds of thousands of dogs which have enjoyed the hospitality of the Institution at some time or other. The Board-room is a fine apartment, and round the sides of its walls legacies and donations are chronicled in letters of gold. Framed missives from Royalty may be read in abundance—Her Majesty the Queen, the Prince of Wales, and the Duke of Cambridge are the patrons of the Home. There is recorded in a book at Battersea an expression of opinion, none other than that of Her Majesty, which is worthy of being quoted in these pages. On the occasion of the Queen's Jubilee an address was presented by those interested in the work in connection with this very admirable institution. Her Majesty made reply and said:—"The objects of your association appear to be deserving of the greatest sympathy and commendation; and your solicitude for the welfare of dogs, the friends of man, who have shown so much zeal, fidelity, and affection in the service of mankind, is the fitting complement of the charity which strives to comfort and succour the unfortunate and afflicted members of our own race."
[THE HERMIT]
A Story for Children: from the French of Voltaire.
In the reign of King Moabdar there lived at Babylon a young man named Zadig. He was handsome, rich, and naturally good-hearted; and at the moment when this story opens, he was travelling on foot to see the world, and to learn philosophy and wisdom. But, hitherto, he had encountered so much misery, and endured so many terrible disasters, that he had become tempted to rebel against the will of Heaven, and to believe that the Providence which rules the world neglects the good, and lets the evil prosper. In this unhappy spirit he was one day walking on the banks of the Euphrates, when he chanced to meet a venerable hermit, whose snowy beard descended to his girdle, and who carried in his hand a scroll which he was reading with attention. Zadig stopped, and made him a low bow. The hermit returned the salutation with an air so kindly, and so noble, that Zadig felt a curiosity to speak to him. He inquired what scroll was that which he was reading.
"It is the Book of Destiny," replied the hermit, "would you like to read it?"
He handed it to Zadig; but the latter, though he knew a dozen languages, could not understand a word of it. His curiosity increased.
"You appear to be in trouble," said the kindly hermit.
"Alas!" said Zadig, "I have cause to be so."
"If you will allow me," said the hermit, "I will accompany you. Perhaps I may be useful to you. I am sometimes able to console the sorrowful."
THE MYSTERIOUS SCROLL.
Zadig felt a deep respect for the appearance, the white beard, and the mysterious scroll of the old hermit, and perceived that his conversation was that of a superior mind. The old man spoke of destiny, of justice, of morality, of the chief good of life, of human frailty, of virtue and of vice, with so much power and eloquence, that Zadig felt himself attracted by a kind of charm, and besought the hermit not to leave him until they should return to Babylon.
"I ask you the same favour," said the hermit. "Promise me that, whatever I may do, you will keep me company for several days."
Zadig gave the promise; and they set forth together.
"THEY WERE SERVED WITH DELICACIES."
That night the travellers arrived at a grand mansion. The hermit begged for food and lodging for himself and his companion. The porter, who might have been mistaken for a prince, ushered them in with a contemptuous air of welcome. The chief servant showed them the magnificent apartments; and they were then admitted to the bottom of the table, where the master of the mansion did not condescend to cast a glance at them. They were, however, served with delicacies in profusion, and after dinner washed their hands in a golden basin set with emeralds and rubies. They were then conducted for the night into a beautiful apartment; and the next morning, before they left the castle, a servant brought them each a piece of gold.
"The master of the house," said Zadig, as they went their way, "appears to be a generous man, although a trifle haughty. He practises a noble hospitality." As he spoke, he perceived that a kind of large pouch which the hermit carried appeared singularly distended; within it was the golden basin, set with precious stones, which the old man had purloined. Zadig was amazed; but he said nothing.
At noon the hermit stopped before a little house, in which lived a wealthy miser, and once more asked for hospitality. An old valet in a shabby coat received them very rudely, showed them into the stable, and set before them a few rotten olives, some mouldy bread, and beer which had turned sour. The hermit ate and drank with as much content as he had shown the night before; then, addressing the old valet, who had kept his eye upon them to make sure that they stole nothing, he gave him the two gold pieces which they had received that morning, and thanked him for his kind attention. "Be so good," he added, "as to let me see your master."
The astonished valet showed them in.
"Most mighty signor," said the hermit, "I can only render you my humble thanks for the noble manner in which you have received us. I beseech you to accept this golden basin as a token of my gratitude."
The miser almost fell backwards with amazement. The hermit, without waiting for him to recover, set off with speed, with his companion.
"Holy Father," said Zadig, "what does all this mean? You seem to me to resemble other men in nothing. You steal a golden basin set with jewels from a Signor who receives you with magnificence, and you give it to a curmudgeon who treats you with indignity."
"My son," replied the hermit, "this mighty lord, who only welcomes travellers through vanity, and to display his riches, will henceforth grow wiser, while the miser will be taught to practise hospitality. Be amazed at nothing, and follow me."
Zadig knew not whether he was dealing with the most foolish or the wisest of all men. But the hermit spoke with such ascendency that Zadig, who besides was fettered by his promise, had no choice except to follow him.
That night they came to an agreeable house, of simple aspect, and showing signs of neither prodigality nor avarice. The owner was a philosopher, who had left the world, and who studied peacefully the rules of virtue and of wisdom, and who yet was happy and contented. He had built this calm retreat to please himself, and he received the strangers in it with a frankness which displayed no sign of ostentation. He conducted them himself to a comfortable chamber, where he made them rest awhile; then he returned to lead them to a dainty little supper. During their conversation they agreed that the affairs of this world are not always regulated by the opinions of the wisest men. But the hermit still maintained that the ways of Providence are wrapt in mystery, and that men do wrong to pass their judgment on a universe of which they only see the smallest part. Zadig wondered how a person who committed such mad acts could reason so correctly.
At length, after a conversation as agreeable as instructive, the host conducted the two travellers to their apartment, and thanked heaven for sending him two visitors so wise and virtuous. He offered them some money, but so frankly that they could not feel offended. The old man declined, and desired to say farewell, as he intended to depart for Babylon at break of day. They therefore parted on the warmest terms, and Zadig, above all, was filled with kindly feelings towards so amiable a man.
When the hermit and himself were in their chamber, they spent some time in praises of their host. At break of day the old man woke his comrade.
"We must be going," he remarked. "But while everyone is still asleep, I wish to leave this worthy man a pledge of my esteem." With these words, he took a torch and set the house on fire.
"THE HERMIT DREW HIM AWAY."
Zadig burst forth into cries of horror, and would have stopped the frightful act. But the hermit, by superior strength, drew him away. The house was in a blaze; and the old man, who was now a good way off with his companion, looked back calmly at the burning pile.
"Heaven be praised!" he cried, "our kind host's house is destroyed from top to bottom!"
At these words Zadig knew not whether he should burst out laughing, call the reverend father an old rascal, knock him down, or run away. But he did neither. Still subdued by the superior manner of the hermit, he followed him against his will to their next lodging.
This was the dwelling of a good and charitable widow, who had a nephew of fourteen, her only hope and joy. She did her best to use the travellers well; and the next morning she bade her nephew guide them safely past a certain bridge, which, having recently been broken, had become dangerous to cross over. The youth, eager to oblige them, led the way.
"Come," said the hermit, when they were half across the bridge, "I must show my gratitude towards your aunt;" and as he spoke he seized the young man by the hair and threw him into the river. The youth fell, reappeared for an instant on the surface, and then was swallowed by the torrent.
"ANGEL OF HEAVEN!" CRIED ZADIG.
"Oh, monster!" exclaimed Zadig, "oh, most detestable of men!"——
"You promised me more patience," interrupted the old man. "Listen! Beneath the ruins of that house which Providence saw fit to set on fire, the owner will discover an enormous treasure; while this young man, whose existence Providence cut short, would have killed his aunt within a year, and you yourself in two."
"Who told you so, barbarian?" cried Zadig, "and even if you read the issue in your Book of Destiny, who gave you power to drown a youth who never injured you?"
While he spoke, he saw that the old man had a beard no longer, and that his face had become fair and young; his hermit's frock had disappeared; four white wings covered his majestic form, and shone with dazzling lustre.
"Angel of heaven!" cried Zadig, "you are then descended from the skies to teach an erring mortal to submit to the eternal laws?"
"Men," replied the angel Jezrael, "judge all things without knowledge; and you, of all men, most deserved to be enlightened. The world imagines that the youth who has just perished fell by chance into the water, and that by a like chance the rich man's house was set on fire. But there is no such thing as chance; all is trial, or punishment, or foresight. Feeble mortal, cease to argue and rebel against what you ought to adore!"
As he spoke these words the angel took his flight to heaven. And Zadig fell upon his knees.
FINIS
[INDEX.]
| PAGE | ||
|---|---|---|
| ACTORS' DRESSING ROOMS | 178 | |
| (Illustrations by W. H. J. Boot, R.B.A.) | ||
| ANECDOTES OF THE WAR PATH | [576] | |
| (Written and Illustrated by Irving Montagu.) | ||
| ANIMALS' HOSPITAL, AT THE | 70 | |
| (Illustrations from Special Photographs and from Drawings by Miss Mabel Hardy.) | ||
| ARCHITECT'S WIFE, THE. From the Spanish of Antonio Trueba | 248 | |
| (Illustrations by Sidney Paget, and W. H. J. Boot, R.B.A.) | ||
| ARTISTS ON LADIES' DRESS, LETTERS FROM | 162 | |
| (Illustrations by G. F. Watts, R.A., Hon. John Collier, and Madame Starr Canziani.) | ||
| BABIES | 348 | |
| (Illustrations by John Gülich.) | ||
| BARAK'S WIVES. A Story for Children, from the Hungarian of Moritz Jokai | 220 | |
| (Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) | ||
| BELISAIRE'S PRUSSIAN (See Scenes of the Siege of Paris) | 36 | |
| BIRTHDAY CARDS | 244 | |
| (Illustrations by Edgar Wilson.) | ||
| BLIND, HOW EDUCATED | [563] | |
| BOY SPY, THE (See Scenes of the Siege of Paris) | 31 | |
| BRIGHT, RIGHT HON. JOHN, FAC-SIMILE NOTES OF SPEECH OF | 206 | |
| BURNSIDE, MISS HELEN M. | 245 | |
| CAMILLE. From the French of Alfred de Musset | 318 | |
| (Illustrations by H. Forestier.) | ||
| CANNIBAL KING, THE GUEST OF A | 476 | |
| CAPTAIN JONES OF THE "ROSE." By W. Clark Russell | 491 | |
| (Illustrations by W. Christian Symons.) | ||
| CHILD WORKERS IN LONDON | 501 | |
| (Illustrations by Miss Le Quesne.) | ||
| CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL, AT THE | 197 | |
| (Illustrations by Miss Kate Craufurd and Harold Oakley.) | ||
| CHILDREN'S STORIES:— | ||
| Barak's Wives | 220 | |
| Enchanted Whistle, The | 552 | |
| Genies, The Two | 105 | |
| Hermit, The | [655] | |
| Spider's Web, The | 437 | |
| Stone-breaker, The | 328 | |
| COUNTY COURT, THE | 531 | |
| DAY WITH AN EAST-END PHOTOGRAPHER, A | 458 | |
| (Illustrations by J. L. Wimbush.) | ||
| DEADLY DILEMMA, A. By Grant Allen | 14 | |
| (Illustrations by W. Rainey.) | ||
| DECAY OF HUMOUR IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. By Henry W. Lucy ("Toby, M.P.") | 254 | |
| (Illustrations by F. C. Gould.) | ||
| DOGS, HOME FOR LOST | [648] | |
| (Illustrations by Miss Mabel D. Hardy.) | ||
| DRESSING-ROOMS, ACTORS' | 178 | |
| EAST-END PHOTOGRAPHER, A DAY WITH AN | 458 | |
| EIGHTEENTH CENTURY JULIET, AN. A Story founded on the French. By James Mortimer | 447 | |
| (Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) | ||
| ENCHANTED WHISTLE, THE. From the French of Alex. Dumas | 552 | |
| (Illustrations by H. Millar.) | ||
| FAC-SIMILES:— | ||
| Handbill of H. M. Stanley's First Lecture | 285 | |
| Humours of the Post Office | 520, [599] | |
| Novelists' MSS. | 295 | |
| Playwrights' MSS. | 415 | |
| Sermon Notes by Cardinal Manning | 84 | |
| Speech by John Bright | 206 | |
| FAIR SMUGGLER, A. From the Russian of Michael Lermontoff | 49 | |
| (Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I.) | ||
| FIRE BRIGADE, THE METROPOLITAN, ITS HOME, AND WORK | 22 | |
| GENIES, THE TWO, A Story for Children. From the French of Voltaire | 105 | |
| (Illustrations by John Gülich.) | ||
| GRANDE CHARTREUSE, A NIGHT AT THE. By J. E. Muddock | 268 | |
| (Illustrations by G. Lambert and Harold Oakley.) | ||
| GUEST OF A CANNIBAL KING, THE. By J. E. Muddock | 476 | |
| (Illustrations by F. Bannister.) | ||
| HERMIT, THE. From the French of Voltaire | [655] | |
| (Illustrations by Alan Wright.) | ||
| HOW NOVELISTS WRITE FOR THE PRESS. Fac-similes of the MSS. of William Black, | ||
| Walter Besant, Bret Harte, and Grant Allen. | 295 | |
| HOW THE BLIND ARE EDUCATED. By Edward Salmon | [563] | |
| (Illustrations by John Gülich.) | ||
| HOUSE OF COMMONS, DECAY OF HUMOUR IN THE. By H. W. Lucy ("Toby, M.P.") | 254 | |
| HOW THE REDOUBT WAS TAKEN. From the French of Prosper Mérimêe | 174 | |
| (Illustrations by Sidney Paget.) | ||
| JAMRACH'S | 429 | |
| (Illustrations by J. L. Wimbush.) | ||
| JANKO THE MUSICIAN. From the Polish of Sienkiewicz | [628] | |
| (Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) | ||
| JENNY. From the French of Victor Hugo | 527 | |
| (Illustrations by Cyrus Johnson, R.I.) | ||
| JERRY STOKES, By Grant Allen | 299 | |
| (Illustrations by A. Pearse.) | ||
| KING'S STRATAGEM, THE. By S. J. Weyman | 361 | |
| (Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) | ||
| LADIES' DRESS, LETTERS FROM ARTISTS ON | 162 | |
| LADIES, A NEW INDUSTRY FOR | 378 | |
| LANDSEER, A PICTURE-LETTER BY | 334 | |
| LAW COURTS, THE STATE OF THE | 402, 531, [638] | |
| (Illustrations by A. Ludovici.) | ||
| LAWSON, SIR WILFRID | 359 | |
| LONDON, CHILD WORKERS IN | 501 | |
| LONDON, OLD STONE SIGNS OF | 487 | |
| LOST DOGS, HOME FOR | [648] | |
| LUCKIEST MAN IN THE COLONY, THE. By E. W. Hornung | 422 | |
| (Illustrations by A. Pearse.) | ||
| MAID OF TREPPI, THE. From the German of Paul Heyse | 57, 133 | |
| (Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) | ||
| MAKING AN ANGEL. By J. Harwood Panting | 235 | |
| (Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) | ||
| MATHEW, FATHER | 357 | |
| METROPOLITAN FIRE BRIGADE, THE: ITS HOME AND WORK | 22 | |
| (Illustrations from Special Photographs by the London Stereoscopic Company, and Drawings by Miss Mabel Hardy and W. B. Wollen, R.I.) | ||
| MINISTER'S CRIME, THE. By Maclaren Cobban | 185 | |
| (Illustrations by W. S. Stacey.) | ||
| MINT, THE | 143 | |
| MIRROR, THE. From the French of Leo Lespes | 78 | |
| (Illustrations by N. Prescott Davies) | ||
| MONEY MANUFACTORY, OUR | 143 | |
| (Illustrations by J. Johnson.) | ||
| NEW INDUSTRY FOR LADIES, A. By Miss Grace Harriman | 378 | |
| (Illustrations by Miss I. G. Brittain.) | ||
| NIGHT AT THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE, A | 268 | |
| NIGHT IN AN OPIUM DEN, A. By the Author of "A Dead Man's Diary" | [624] | |
| (Illustrations by J. L. Wimbush.) | ||
| NIGHT WITH THE THAMES POLICE, A | 124 | |
| (Illustrations by John Gülich.) | ||
| NOTORIOUS MISS ANSTRUTHER, THE. By E. W. Hornung | 466 | |
| (Illustrations by W. S. Stacey.) | ||
| NOVELISTS, HOW THEY WRITE FOR THE PRESS | 295 | |
| OLD STONE SIGNS OF LONDON | 487 | |
| (Written and illustrated by C. B. B. Barrett.) | ||
| ON THE STUMP FOR THE PUMP. By Sir Wilfrid Lawson | 356 | |
| (Illustrations by J. F. Sullivan, C. Harrison, and from Photographs.) | ||
| ORCHIDS: FROM A POPULAR POINT OF VIEW | 391 | |
| (Illustrations by J. H. Hipsley.) | ||
| OUR MONEY MANUFACTORY | 143 | |
| (Illustrations by J. Johnson.) | ||
| OUT OF A PIONEER'S TRUNK. By Bret Harte | [571] | |
| (Illustrations by A. Pearse.) | ||
| PASTOR'S DAUGHTER, THE. From the German of Julius Theis | 539 | |
| (Illustrations by A. Pearse.) | ||
| PASSION IN THE DESERT, A. From the French of Balzac | 210 | |
| (Illustrations by A. Pearse.) | ||
| PICTURE-LETTER, A. By Sir Edwin Landseer | 334 | |
| PICTURES WITH HISTORIES | 227, 335 | |
| (Illustrations from pictures by Reynolds, Gainsborough, Landseer, and E. T. Parris, and Drawings by Alan Wright.) | ||
| PIECE OF GOLD, THE. From the French of François Coppée | 308 | |
| (Illustrations by J. Finnemore.) | ||
| PISTOL-SHOT, THE. From the Russian of Alexander Pushkin | 115 | |
| (Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) | ||
| PORTRAITS OF CELEBRITIES AT DIFFERENT TIMES OF THEIR LIVES:— | ||
| Albani, Madame | [597] | |
| Argyle, Duke of | 280 | |
| Bancroft, Mr. and Mrs. | 159 | |
| Barrett, Wilson | 512 | |
| Black, William | 282 | |
| Blackie, Professor | 42 | |
| Bradlaugh, Charles | 376 | |
| Clarence and Avondale, Duke of | [594] | |
| Empress of Germany | 279 | |
| Farjeon, B. L. | 515 | |
| Fife, Duchess of | [595] | |
| George, Prince | [596] | |
| Gladstone, W. E | 156 | |
| Granville, Earl | 370 | |
| Haggard, H. Rider | 48 | |
| Hare, John | 158 | |
| Huxley, Professor | 160 | |
| Irving, Henry | 45 | |
| Jansen, Miss Agnes | [598] | |
| Joachim, Herr | 516 | |
| Jones, Henry A. | 518 | |
| Langtry, Mrs. | 157 | |
| Lubbock, Sir J., Bart. | 47 | |
| Manning, Cardinal | 154 | |
| Millais, Sir John E., Bart. (R.A.) | 372 | |
| Patti, Adelina | 161 | |
| Pettitt, H. | 377 | |
| Pinero, A. H. | 517 | |
| Princess Beatrice | 278 | |
| Queen, Her Majesty the | 277 | |
| Rorke, Miss Mary | 517 | |
| Rorke, Miss Kate | [593] | |
| Ruskin, John | 155 | |
| Sims, George R. | 514 | |
| Stanley, Henry M. | 284 | |
| Spurgeon, Rev. C. H. | 43 | |
| Swinburne, Algernon C. | 46 | |
| Tennyson, Lord | 41 | |
| Terriss, William | 375 | |
| Terry, Miss Ellen | 44 | |
| Terry, Miss Marion | 374 | |
| Toole, J. L. | [591] | |
| Tree, H. Beerbohm | 281 | |
| Wallis, Sir Provo | 513 | |
| Watts, G. F. (R.A.) | 371 | |
| Webster, Sir Richard | 373 | |
| Willard, E. S. | [592] | |
| Wyndham, Charles | 283 | |
| POST OFFICE, HUMOURS OF THE. With Fac-similes | 520, [599] | |
| QUEEN OF SPADES, THE. From the Russian of Alexander Pushkin | 87 | |
| (Illustrated by Paul Hardy.) | ||
| QUEEN'S FIRST BABY, THE | 226 | |
| RYNARD GOLD REEF COMPANY, LIMITED. By Walter Besant | [586] | |
| (Illustrated by W. S. Stacey.) | ||
| SCENES OF THE SIEGE OF PARIS | 31 | |
| 1.—The Boy Spy. 2.—Belisaire's Prussian. From the French of Alphonse Daudet. (Illustrations by Sidney Paget.) | ||
| SCIENCE, THE VOICE OF | 312 | |
| SERMON BY CARDINAL MANNING, FAC-SIMILE NOTES OF A | 84 | |
| SHAW, CAPTAIN | 22 | |
| SILVER HARVEST, A | [634] | |
| (Written and Illustrated by H. Tuck.) | ||
| SLAP-BANG. From the French of Jules Claretie | 150 | |
| (Illustrations by W. Rainey.) | ||
| SMUGGLER, A FAIR | 49 | |
| SNOWSTORM, THE. From the Russian of Alexander Pushkin | 258 | |
| (Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) | ||
| SPEECH BY JOHN BRIGHT, FAC-SIMILE OF NOTES OF A | 206 | |
| SPIDER'S WEB, THE. From the French of Jaques Normand | 437 | |
| (Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) | ||
| STATE OF THE LAW COURTS, THE | 402, 531, [638] | |
| (Illustrations by A. Ludovici.) | ||
| STONE-BREAKER, THE. From the French of Quatrelles | 328 | |
| (Illustrations by Alan W. Wright.) | ||
| STORIES OF THE VICTORIA CROSS: TOLD BY THOSE WHO HAVE WON IT. | 286, 410, 547 | |
| (Illustrations by Harry Payne, Sydney Paget, and W. B. Wollen, R.I.) | ||
| STORY OF THE STRAND, THE | 4 | |
| (Illustrations by G. C. Haité.) | ||
| THAMES POLICE, A NIGHT WITH THE | 124 | |
| (Illustrations by John Gülich.) | ||
| THING THAT GLISTENED, A. By F. R. Stockton | 397 | |
| (Illustrations by F. Feller.) | ||
| THREE BIRDS ON A STILE. By B. L. Farjeon | [612] | |
| (Illustrations by Gordon Browne.) | ||
| TORTURE BY HOPE, A. From the French of Villiers de l'isle-Adam | [559] | |
| (Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) | ||
| TREPPI, THE MAID OF | 57 | |
| TWO FISHERS. From the French of Guy de Maupassant | 343 | |
| (Illustrations by Leslie Brooke.) | ||
| VICTORIA CROSS, STORIES OF THE | 286, 410, 547 | |
| VOICE OF SCIENCE, THE. By A. Conan Doyle | 312 | |
| (Illustrations by W. S. Stacey.) | ||
| WALTZ IN FAUST, THE. By Richard Dowling | 382 | |
| (Illustrations by Ernest G. Beach.) | ||
UNWIN BROTHERS, PRINTERS, 27, PILGRIM STREET, LUDGALE HILL, E.C.
Transcriber's Notes:
Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were corrected.
Punctuation normalized.
Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.