a week, and now she has an annuity of £2,000 settled upon her by a young fool of a lord, who has no better use for his

money.

The wardrobe of Alice Gordon, another of the Hetairæ, is valued at £12,000. She is a brilliant horse woman.

"Baby Hamilton" is

another celebrity of the Half-World.

Many

stories are told about the recklessness of this girl. She forced her way to a meeting in one of the shires when the hounds were all assembled, and followed the hunt, despite the remonstrances of the master, and regardless of the fact that more than half the ladies who were present left the field on her appearance in a hunting costume. She made a bet

while in Paris with a wild young duke that she would get a recognition from the Empress Eugenie. The stake was a thoroughbred of the young duke's which she desired to have for her own use. The bet was made, and while the Empress was riding in the Bois, the "Baby," magnificently dressed and mounted, placed herself in the way of the Empress, and bowed quite reverentially. The Empress looked at her for an instant, and, thinking that it was some English lady of rank, bowed very graciously in return. The young duke-who is, by the way, a relative of the Empress by marriage-saw the salutation. It was too good to keep, and accordingly, before the next night, the "Baby" had to leave Paris, by order of the Prefect of Police.

CHAPTER XLIV.

CHEAP LODGING HOUSES.

NE night, having made an appointment with one of the Scotland Yard detectives, I met him as I had promised, punctually, at the India House, which is situated at the junction of Victoria and Dean streets, Westminster.

Be it remembered, that Westminster is a borough, and sends two Members of Parliament, yet it is a part and a portion of the metropolis of London.

He came muffled in his coat, and, having saluted me, asked me if I was ready to accompany him, to visit some of the low lodgings houses that abound in a certain part of Westmins ter, at the back of Millbank Prison, which fronts the river be tween Vauxhall and Lambeth Bridges.

It was the night before the great Derby Race, at which nearly all England is represented, peer and peasant, tradesman, beggar, burglar, and pickpocket. On such a night all the London lodging-houses were sure to be full of tramps.

Briefly, I said I was ready to accompany him, and without further conversation we penetrated to the darkest recesses of the borough of Westminster, going down Dean into Orchard street, through Orchard street into New-Pye street, down Great Peter street, through Holland street, and so into a short, dark street, called Medway street, at the back of the Greycoats School.

All these streets which I have named have low lodging houses, and were filled this night with tramps, vagrants, ped

THE WESTMINSTER SLUMS.

615

Great Pe

dlers, itinerant showmen, vagabonds, and thieves. ter street is so called to distinguish it from Little Peter street, and both streets being within a stone's throw of the Abbey of Westminster, derive their names from the dedicatory title of the ancient and world-renowned abbey which was called, at one time, and is yet known in official documents, as the "Abbey Church of St. Peter's, Westminster."

Medway street leads into the Horseferry Road, which is at one end a continuation of Lambeth Bridge, and at the other end is flanked by Holland street.

My bluc-coated friend said to me, after pulling out a small dark lantern, which he used in these dark rookeries and streets by the water side:

"The worst place I can take you to in Westminster, and perhaps in London, Sir, barrin always Paddy's Goose,' in Ratcliffe Highway, is the lodging house kept by Jack Serag,' or 'Damnable Jack,' as he is called on account of his swearin' -in Medway street. I can't guarantee that you will bring your watch or pocket-book back, but I will save your life if you get in a row, and that will be as much as I can do. If there are any thieves there they will be afraid of me, but the roughs and tramps, who are out of the law's reach, are up to anything, and will break your leg or arms, or mine either, without talking twice about it."

On our way to the Slums of Westminster I entered a cheap lodging house, in which the lodgers were preparing their evening meal, for which they paid four-pence to the proprietor. A potato was given each person with a small junk of broiled or fried meat, and a tin-skittle full of washy tea or coffee, such as is given to steerage passengers at sea, was handed to the tramps and beggars, who frequented the place.

The room was large and lofty, with smoky rafters, and a number of men, women, and boys, were sitting, standing, and reclining on the floor or on chairs, but nearly all were eating like ravenous beasts from tin-plates or earthen-ware platters.

A man might purchase a herring for a half-penny at any of the refuse sales in the markets, and bring it here and toast

it over the huge fire for an additional half-penny, and many of the occupants of this gipsy-looking place were employed in the pleasing occupation of cooking as we left the place on our journey after an adventure.

Medway street, as I have before mentioned, is quite short, and therefore it was not long before I saw a light of more brilliancy than those around it, bursting from the window of the first story of a brick building, the bricks being set off about the windows with trimmings of dark blue stone. Above the door were painted the emblems of the Lion and the Unicorn, which are everywhere displayed in English cities, and a lamp of a square shape projected from the doorway, throwing a dead and unwholsome-like light upon the street and sidewalk. In the window a sign was painted, indicating that lodgings were to be had for four-pence a night for single persons, and also a notification that "boiling water" was "always ready."

The house was probably a hundred years old, as near as I could tell by its old beams, which were bare, the besmeared and notched lintels on which names, effigies, and initials, had been carved, from time immemorial, by lodgers, thieves, and cadgers. There was a bar, and glistening beer-pumps, and pewter noggins, and copper measures, were hung up behind the counter. Against the walls, which were environed by brass railing to keep intruders from making too free or breaking the glasses if a fight should occur, was inscribed on a tin plate of greasy hue the words:

JOHN SCRAGG & Co.,

Wine and Liquor Merchants.
Beds, 4d. a Night.

The proprietor, a fellow with beetle brows, a furzy black beard, and a fustian jacket well greased, sat on a worn bench near the beer pump.

"Good evenin, Mr. Scragg," said the detective to the rascally-looking fellow.