THE SCUM OF LONDON.

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for some of the beds were so thickly packed that it was impossible for the Deputy Lodging Master to pass through the room without treading upon an exposed hand or foot, and in such a case, blasphemous and vile execrations were heaped upon his devoted head by the lodgers. This he bore with the greatest indifference as if he had never heard a word of it. The lodgers hoped by stripping naked to avoid having any of the vermin cling to their clothing-a wise precaution, as I found.

Men, women, and children, without regard to age, sex, condition, or kindred, slept together in this room, and as the night advanced the stench from their hot, loathsome bodies, rose like a hellish incense and nearly smothered me with its fumes. There the breath of each lodger was worse than the odor of a charnel house, so that I deemed it a wonder as I sat up in bed looking through a rent in the chintz curtain which enclosed our bed, a lamp burning faintly on a table the while, that sixty of God's creatures could sleep this way night after night, summer and winter, and yet be able to eat, drink, sleep, marry, beget children, and still thrive like deadly nightshade, to poison London and its neighborhood with their reeking effluvia.

About three o'clock in the morning I heard a hammering, squashing sound, and looking from under the chintz curtain, I was first astonished and then disgusted to see a wan-looking, cadaverous personage, from whom the most frightful snoring had proceeded during the early part of the night, hammering with the heel of his shoe at some dark moving objects, which he, every moment, scraped from his bed and placing them on the floor smashed at them in a raging and furious way with his shoe heel, taking care the while to keep up a steady stream of curses from his lips. He saw me looking at him and said:

"Well, neighbor, wot d'ye think of this. I pays four-pence for my bed, and here I am a-fighting to keep off the blessed bugs, for my life. I got myself gloriously drunk last night, to sleep, so that the wipers might not wake me up, but all the gin in Lunnon couldn't make a man sleep while the wermin are in the bed-clothes. I have took out and killed a bushel, more or less, of 'em, in the last half hour, but there's plenty more of 'em, Lord bless you."

This was the keystone of the edifice of my disgust. Too much of a good thing is said to be of no practical benefit to any one, and there was such a richness of bed-bugs and body parasites to be found in "Damnable Jack's" lodging house, that I thought I would not farther trouble his hospitality, and touching the guardian of the place upon the shoulder, who started up in a frightened way as if he were attacked, I left Mr. Scragg's lodgings, and took a walk in the cool morning air as far as Westminster Bridge, where I sat until day-break, looking at the Parliament House, and the silent river with its numerous craft.

Before I left the accursed place, the policeman pointed to a pail of foul water standing in a corner, that had been fresh over night, and which had now had a thick scum on its top produced by so many poisonous lungs.

It is needless to say that I took a good warm bath early that morning, more than satisfied with my experience of the previous night.

Of this class of lodging houses, there are, in London, I believe, about seventy-five, capable of accommodating any number of lodgers that the proprietors may see fit to stow away in their dens.

Some idea may be formed of the manner in which the poorer classes of the London artisans are herded together from the fact that in the Inner Ward of St. George's Parish the number of families apportioned to the dwellings are so largely in excess of the room which they ought to occupy that all kinds of frightful distempers are common in these hell-dens. I give a table to show how human beings are crowded in this district:

Among the most munificent philanthropists who have built model lodging houses, for the poor and needy, I may enumerate Miss Burdett Coutts, and George Peabody. The former has expended nearly

model lodging houses for the poor, and the amount which was donated for the same purpose by Mr. Peabody exceeded a million. and a half of dollars.

In speaking of Mr. Peabody, I must not omit to state the fact that the Londoners, to show their appreciation of his philanthropy, have erected to him a magnificent bronze statue at the rear of the

Royal Exchange in their city, which was publicly uncovered by the Prince of Wales during the life-time of the late philanthropist.

CHAPTER XLV.

A TRAMP IN THE BY-WAYS.

REAT as London may believe itself to be in works of benevolence and philanthropy, there are spots in that mighty city which no one should visit without an officer of the law in his company, to warn him from the pitfalls and dangers which will beset his pathway.

One evening, feeling rather dispirited and uncomfortable, while sitting in the coffee-room of the Langham Hotel, a thought struck me that I might find amusement or novelty in some way by taking a tour through the city, and accordingly I called a cabman from the stand, in Upper Regent street, and, determining to make an effort to dissipate the blues, I jumped into the "hansom" and told the driver, an old weather-beaten looking fellow, with a buttoned-up coat and dirty neck-cloth, and wearing a black silk hat, which had once been quite respectable, but was now utterly wrecked-to "drive me anywhere in London -I don't care where as long as I can see something to interest me."

The driver, a well known character, who bore the title of "Old Smudge" among his brethren on the cab stand, and who was always in trouble with the police, replied:

"Where shall I take you, Sir? Would you like to take a look at the river? Or, mayhap you might wish to see a dog fight, or a ratting match-the Americans are partial to ratting matches-I know some on 'em are!"

"Take me anywhere," said I from the recesses of the cab

in which I had ensconsced myself.

These London Cabbies are, as a general thing, the most provoking and abusive fellows in the world, but their usefulness cannot be denied by any person who has experienced the delight of having a cab to hail when attacked suddenly by the often recurring rain storms, which serve to keep the atmosphere of Great Britain's capital in a state of perpetual moisture. There are two kinds of Cabs-the "hansom," a two wheeled vehicle, which falls

back on its wheels, and is drawn by a single horse, the cabman sitting over your head with the reins elevated in his hands, and stretching through a metal ring in the roof to the collar of the horse. Then there are folding doors which can be closed to keep mud and dust from entering the cab, and a movable window fastened to the interior of the roof that can be hoisted or let down at will, and is most serviceable in case of rain or other inclement weather.

Then there is the "four wheeler," as it is called, a cab which is also drawn by one horse, but is built something after the fashion of the American coupe or brougham. This vehicle has four wheels, and is more comfortable and roomy than the "Hansom." The rates for transportation are higher, however, and the four-wheelers are used by a better class of people. There are six thousand one-horse cabs registered in London, of which number 2,352 are "six day" cabs, whose proprietors do not allow of their use on Sundays; and of "seven day" cabs,