on festive occasions. How many colisiums are filled nightly in this modern Rome,—how many on modern festive days, i.e., Bank Holidays? I reckoned up the number from the papers on one Bank holiday. The Exhibition had about 75,000 visitors, the Crystal Palace about 50,000, the Albert Palace about 50,000, the Aquarium, I believe, about 20,000, the Alexandra Palace about as many, and the Windsor Palace, the Kew Gardens the Hampton Court and Bushy Park and such places outside London attracted about a hundred thousand. I cannot guess how many thousands crowded to the numberless theatres and music halls and public places of amusement the same evening! The total would come to half a million or more of men and women who spent their money for entertainment on one holiday! And yet this does not represent the population of London,—for the millions of the working classes who swarm the by-lanes and dirty streets of London, who people that portion of the town called the East End, from the City as far east as the docks,—they had no money to spend, and could seek no entertainment except by a stroll in the Parks or the public gardens. Imagination can scarcely compass the vastness of modern London whose population exceeds that of the whole of Scotland or the kingdom of Holland, whose traffic and trade are almost fabulous, and whose wealth as displayed in the miles and miles of the richest shops in every direction and in every part of the town, are almost beyond the dreams of Alladdin!
And yet there is a shady side to this picture. The cry
