unicorn, the arms of Great Britain. This is the Lord Mayor's Chair of Justice, but the awful being to whom it appertains has not yet made his appearance, and I have leisure to look around me.

There are two rows of desks, for the reporters, and behind them sit representatives of the Times, Daily News, Daily Telegraph, Standard, Morning Advertiser, and other leading journals, the evening papers, with the exception of the Echo, Pall Mall Gazette and Globe not being represented, the others always copying their police reports from the morning journals.

There are two or three high desks in the centre of the room, a square iron railing, and a number of police waiting to make charges, but the prisoners are kept below in the lockup and will presently appear through a trap door in the floor when they are called to answer to the charges on the sheet.

The American detective has just finished his business regarding Harwood's case, and saunters in carelessly with his hat in his hand to take a look around him.

Presently there is a bustle and commotion, and a man looking like a drum major of a band, with scarlet and gold facings on his coat, whom I am informed enjoys the dignity of Mayor's Marshal, marches into the room like a peacock, with his big staff of office, and cries out:

"Make way there, for the Right Honorable the Lud Mayor."

Then enters the awful being himself, in a furred robe of heavy cloth, like one of Rembrandt's burgomasters, a blazing gold chain depending from his neck and covering his waistcoat, and having taken his seat, the charge sheet is examined by him in a dignified way, and the first case is called.

This is the case of the forger Harwood, a young man, the son of the senior partner of one of the largest banking firms in London, who has forged his father's name for the amount of £15,000.

The trap door opens and discloses a fashionably-dressed and good-looking young fellow, with a police officer on each side. The case had excited great interest in London, and the prisoner

having fled to New York was captured before the steamer got to her dock, and brought back to London. Harwood had been brought to justice because the junior member of the firm, to protect its interests, had been compelled to the unwilling task of making the charge against his partner's son.

Harwood has the air of a languid and haughty "swell," or exquisite, and is most fashionably dressed. There is no flinching in his blonde and whiskered face as he is

brought up for sentence, having been previously convicted. Out of £15,000, detective Irving recovered over £11,000 from the forger, and it seems the charge is to be hushed up. The father of the culprit is a wealthy citizen, and the counsel for the prisoner makes his point that the greater part of the money having been recovered, and the prisoner having "suffered much anguish of mind" for his crime, has offered to go

to America if released, and make amends for his "fault" by leading a new and repentant life.

I looked at the exquisite, who stood there as cool as a cucumber, and it seemed to me rather doubtful that he had suffered much anguish of mind. I also doubted if he would be willing to lead a very virtuous life in America. As he stood there with his assured and rather contemptuous look and insolent face, he was quite a contrast to the pale, weak-looking lad, who stood the day before in the dock of the Old Bailey to receive with trembling lips his sentence of twelve long years penal servitude, and just as the thought struck me, Irving, the detective, whispered to me:

"He looks very sorry, don't he? Of course! Cheese things."

Then the Lord Mayor plucked up a proper spirit, threw back his furred sleeves, put on a look of profound wisdom, consulted with the prisoner's counsel, and making up his judicial mind that Harwood had "suffered enough,"-poor young man-the forger was released and set at liberty in order to allow him to become a virtuous citizen of the United States. Nothing was said about the deficit of two or three thousand pounds; the young man's family was wealthy and respectable. But who is this poor rascal at the bar now, who appears as the friends of the wealthy forger gather in a knot to congratulate him. Why it is a low ruffian of a pickpocket who has been caught in the act of abstracting a lady's reticule valued at fourteen shillings. The villain! He has no wealthy friends, so let him take eighteen months imprisonment at Hollaway prison, and there let him repent. while on the treadmill.

I left the Lord Mayor's Court with mixed feelings, and the remarks of the detective failed to reassure me as to the honesty of the method of administering justice by his Worship, the Lord Mayor of London.

CHAPTER XLI.

TWO RIVALS-CANTERBURY AND ROME.

ETROPOLITAN Life has its religious phases, also. London contains about 410,000 dwelling-houses, places of business, and public buildings, and in this vast agglomeration of brick, stone, and mortarthere are about seven hundred edifices devoted to public worship. In this number are comprised places of worship for all sects: Roman Cathol ics, Protestants of the Established Church of England, Baptists, Presbyterians, Independents, Jews, Greeks, Moravians, Quakers, Socinians, Wesleyan-Methodists, and even Hindoos, who have a temple of their own.

There are two hundred and eighteen parishes in the Metropolis, under the jurisdiction of vestries and parochial bodies who, in turn, are subject to the Bishop of London, sitting as a temporal and spiritual peer in the House of Lords. He is Provincial Dean of Canterbury, and Dean of the Chapels Royal at Whitehall and the Savoy.

The Bishop of London ranks next to the Archbishop of York and Canterbury, and has an income of £10,000, annually, and the free gift of one hundred and nine livings, ranging in value from £2,000 to £30 a year. As Dean of Canterbury his income amounts to £2,000 a year. The clergymen of the Established Church receiving the largest salaries in the City of London, whose livings are in the gift of the Bishop of London, are those of St. Botolph, Bishopsgate, £2,290, St. Olave's, Hart street, Bloomsbury, £1,891, and St. Giles, Cripplegate, £1,580.

66

SPURGEON AND APOCALYPSE" CUMMING.

577

The smallest salary is that received by the pastor of St. Bartholomew the Less, who only gets £30 a year, although his work is far harder than that of the Dean of Westminster, who receives £4,000 a year. The salary of the Archbishop of Canterbury is £20,000, and he has half a dozen palaces throughout the country. The Archbishop of York receives about £15,000 a year, and has two Episcopal and palatial residences.

Spurgeon, the great Baptist divine, who ranks somewhat like Henry Ward Beecher, receives a salary of $18,000 a year for his preaching, and his congregation, in 1860, erected for him a grand tabernacle at Newington, on the Surrey side of the Thames near the Elephant and Castle, and in one of the roughest districts of London, at a cost of £25,000. The design is simple; the dimensions 85 by 174 feet, and here, every Sunday evening, nearly six thousand persons assemble to listen to the vehement eloquence of Spurgeon, who has his congregation drilled like a company of infantry, and can move them to tears or laughter, as he chooses.

In Crown Court, Strand, is the Free

Church of Scotland, a

SPURGEON.

well-built and com

modious edifice, where the Scottish Presbyterians attend. The pastor of this church is known all over the world by his writings and his prophetic denunciations of the coming destruction of the world, as "Apocalypse" Cumming. Thousands of pages have been written by this eminent divine, and hundreds of sermons have been preached by him, in which he has identified