50 



THE ALUMNI JOURNAL. 



don, the dykes and lowlands of Holland, 

 the concert gardens of Germany, the 

 canals of Venice, the Colosseum of Rome, 

 the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Firth of 

 Firth Bridge, Scotland, the Giants' 

 Causeway and the Blarney Stone of Ire- 

 land. You might well ask, why don't I 

 describe St. Paul's or St. Peter's, or 

 Paris, or the various things of note ; but 

 I answer, I cannot describe everything 

 to-night, hence have selected those subj ects 

 which I considered of especial interest. 



It was in June, 1892, that I set foot in 

 England — and a splendid country I found 

 it. The people are polite, hospitable 

 and courteous, but have the abomin- 

 able habit of wearing little skull caps 

 perched on the back of their heads and of 

 constantly smoking pipes. But without 

 further description, in four days I was in 

 London — London, the wonderful, Lon- 

 don, the immeasureable, London, the 

 largest city of the world. And I was not 

 disappointed, I was perched in the 26th 

 floor of the hotel — at least so it seemed 

 to me, and to this day I have not found 

 out whether it was an inadvertence or the 

 lofty British sense of respect to a foreigner. 

 At any rate the room was lofty. It was 

 a Saturday night and high up as I was, 

 I could hear a constant humming and 

 buzzing from the street below, which 

 plainly told me I was surely in the Me- 

 tropolis of the world. 



I lost no time in paying my respects to 

 the police authorities at Bow street. Bow 

 street is as famous to us as our Bowery 

 or Wall street is to them, and told the of- 

 ficials that I desired to make a tour of 

 Whitechapel under police protection. I 

 was recommended to the authorities in 

 Leman street (which is in the heart of the 

 district) and a sergeant was put at my 

 service; but whether it was for love of 

 notoriety or more especially for the gold 



sovereign, I will not pass an opinion up- 

 on. I had heard so much about the 

 squalor, the wretchedness, the poverty 

 and the danger of this dark district of 

 London that I felt very anxious to ex- 

 plore it. At nightfall we started out and 

 commenced at a place called Swallow 

 Garden, a forsaken, dangerous locality in 

 the shadows of which Jack the Ripper 

 committed his first murder. The dark, 

 narrow streets were filled with toughs 

 and drunken sailors, who.se loud, maud- 

 lin noises filled us with fear. But we 

 had our police officer with us and felt 

 safe. It is just like the women who so 

 bravely cross 23d street and Broadway 

 when escorted b^^ a manlj^ specimen of 

 our finest. 



A sudden turn brought us to Dock 

 street and the Sailors' Home. This lat- 

 ter was a large, high building, whose in- 

 terior resembled the accommodations of 

 a ship. There were no floors but a net 

 work of iron ladders led to the various 

 tiers in which the bunks were situated. 

 The bunks were no wider than four feet 

 and about eight feet long — ^just room 

 enough to sleep. On the ground floor 

 was the mess room with apartments for 

 officers and others for common salts. The 

 place had the unpleasant odor of a ship 

 and I was glad to get out, but it was so 

 unique and extraordinary that it left a 

 lingering impression. Likewise the odor. 

 Our guide showed me an old salt seated 

 in the door-way who was known under 

 the flattering sobriquet of ' 'Jim , the Miz, ' ' 

 because he was so mean and penurious. 

 I wonder if he was any meaner than the 

 son of Benjamin who was troubled with a 

 a decidedly refractory tooth. During the 

 night it robbed him of sleep till finally in 

 his desperation he called upon the den- 

 tist. It was two o'clock in the morning 

 and the sleepy molar-operator had lo- 



