THE ALUMNI JOURNAL. 



51 



cated the victim when Isaac exclaimed : 

 " Hold on a minute, how much will it 

 cost?" 



" $1.00 with gas, 50 cents without," 

 was the reply. 



" $1.00 with gas? Day light is good 

 enough for me, I will wait till morn- 

 ing." 



My friends, if he was any meaner than 

 that, I feel sorry for him. 



After we left the Sailors' Home we 

 began a regular winding in and out 

 through a maze of dark alleys and 

 dangerous byways. When suddenly, we 

 were confronted by a low wooden struc- 

 ture, which had long ago ceased to be a 

 habitation, save for a grog shop in the rear 

 of the first floor over which a decidedly 

 advoirdupois female presided. She was 

 not fair; fat, and about 50. The sergeant 

 asked for a key and this guardian of the 

 spirits handed out a huge,rusty key, which 

 was large enough to serve as an anchor. 

 We then walked along the dilapidated 

 hall to the yard, and on the other side 

 entered a small doorway, from which 

 an old narrow winding stairway led to 

 the floor above. 



We entered a large musty room and 

 stood in the sanctum sanctorum of the old 

 court of Wellclose Square. The ruins of 

 the bench, the lawyers' stalls and the jury 

 box were still to be seen, but the judicial 

 ermine was gone, the pleading parch- 

 ments had also gone the way of the un- 

 known, and moths and rats sported where 

 once legal learning had echoed and 

 pleaded for some poor wretche's life, I 

 thought of Hamlet — alas ! poor Yorick ! 

 On the floor above was the prison room 

 where condemned murderers were con- 

 fined. It was a stuffy little hole, with 

 a wooden door all bolts and rivets, and a 

 little window near the ceiling grated and 

 screened, through which the sun no doubt 



shone to mark the passing of the days, 

 which brought the culprit nearer to 

 eternity. We cast a curious glance into 

 the cell and passed on. 



Our road then led through Ship Alley, 

 Ti^er Bay and Plumbers' Row, to the 

 scene of the second murder, and then we 

 struck into Whitechapel Road where the 

 Salvation Army barracks are situated. 

 This building is a large, spacious one 

 adapted to the purpose for which it was 

 intended. We explained our mission to 

 the attendant, and he escorted us upstairs 

 to a large hall, the size of the entire 

 building used as sleeping apartments by 

 the outcasts who manage to reach this 

 haven of shelter. To me the place looked 

 like a morgue. Large pine boxes, exactly 

 like those used to encase coffins were 

 placed side by side through the length of 

 the building and constituted the beds. 

 There were 280. Lodging is one penny 

 per night, and I watched the poor 

 wretches pay their small dues, go over 

 to a huge pile and take a large rubber 

 cloth, then go to their boxes, and after 

 divesting themselves of their ragged 

 clothing, lie down and cover themselves 

 with the rubber cloth. 



One poor fellow was just about retiring 

 when I came in. "This is a very sorry 

 life, sir," he said, observing me. I beg- 

 ged pardon for the intrusion, for it seem- 

 ed to me here was a case of a soft heart 

 beating under a rough coat — the fellow 

 .seemed ashamed of his surroundings. Oh 

 why need the spirit of mortal be proud? 

 The Czar certainly is a brother to the 

 poor miner. ' 'You see, ' ' said the attend- 

 ant, this keeps them from sleeping in the 

 alleys and wagons, and in the morning 

 they have free use of the lavatory and 

 baths. A breakfast of coffee and rolls 

 can be had for tuppence, and a dinner 

 for 4d. In the winter we give a plate of 

 soup for a 'apenny, and meat and vege- 



