at Colney Hatch, to which locality they wish he would 

 retire. 



All these pestilential corners are under the full and 

 direct control of Mr. Rye, the Head of the Printed De- 

 partment, a position to which he has been raised over the 

 heads of men of superior merit and longer service, and 

 for which he has no qualification except that of having been 

 an attorney's clerk in the same office in which Mr. Jones 

 held a similar position. He is a man who seems to like 

 nobody and whom nobody likes ; but he works very well 

 with Mr. Jones, for they are kindred spirits, and are cordially 

 hated by all except their few spies, whose real opinions 

 about them it is hardly worth while to ascertain. He is a 

 man who never knew, could never comprehend, the advan- 

 tages of gaining the sympathies of the weak. The weak ! 

 Why do we feel for them ? They are the prime cause and 

 perpetual nourishment of self-denial and devotion. A 

 really " picked man" at the head of so eminent a depart- 

 ment would have been the living embodiment of care for 

 the welfare of all committed to his charge. For a strong 

 man who is right-minded, the weak are a source of plea- 

 sure, and there are times, too, when they may even be 

 useful. A big ship never puts to sea without a comple- 

 ment of small boats, and on an emergency one has need 

 of them. Can Mr. Jones or Mr. Rye now save them- 

 selves by the good will of their subordinates? Mr. Rye, by 

 virtue of his office, has all the transcribers in the Dens 

 under his command, and it has been in his power at any 

 time to order them to sit in the comparatively purer 

 atmosphere upstairs ; but he has not done it, and so, in 

 spite of all that has been written on the subject, there 

 they sit still. I saw them there myself, and smelt the filth 

 of their abode, no later than Friday last (5th February). 

 Let me here say that my visit to the Den was an elaborate 



