characters of the destitute, and the visitor himself would
soon learn to discriminate.

A system similar to this was the basis of the aid rendered by
the Royal Society for the Assistance of Discharged Prisoners,

which was started by my friend, Mr. Whitbread, the present
owner of Southill, and which I joined in its early days at

his instigation. The earnings of the prisoner were handed
over by the gaols to the Society, and the Society employed

them for his advantage - always, in the case of an artisan,
by supplying him with the needful implements of his trade.

But relief in which the pauper has no productive share, of
which he is but a mere consumer, is of no avail.

One cannot but think that if instead of the selfish
principles which govern our trades-unions, and which are

driving their industries out of the country, trade-schools
could be provided - such, for instance, as the cheap carving

schools to be met with in many parts of Germany and the Tyrol
- much might be done to help the bread-earners. Why could

not schools be organised for the instruction of shoemakers,
tailors, carpenters, smiths of all kinds, and the scores of

other trades which in former days were learnt by compulsory
apprenticeship? Under our present system of education the

greater part of what the poor man's children learn is clean
forgotten in a few years; and if not, serves mainly to create

and fosterdiscontent, which vents itself in a passion for
mass-meetings and the fuliginous oratory of our Hyde Parks.

The emigration scheme for poor-law children as advocated by
Mrs. Close is the most promising, in its way, yet brought

before the public, and is deserving of every support.
In the absence of any such projects as these, the

hopelessness of the task, and the depressing effect of the
contact with much wretchedness, wore me out. I had a nursery

of my own, and was not justified in risking infectious
diseases. A saint would have been more heroic, and could

besides have promised that sweetest of consolations to
suffering millions - the compensation of Eternal Happiness.

I could not give them even hope, for I had none to spare.
The root-evil I felt to be the overcrowding due to the

reckless intercourse of the sexes; and what had Providence to
do with a law of Nature, obedience to which entailed

unspeakable misery?
CHAPTER XLVI

IN the autumn following the end of the Franco-German war, Dr.
Bird and I visited all the principal battlefields. In

England the impression was that the bloodiest battle was
fought at Gravelotte. The error was due, I believe, to our

having no war correspondent on the spot. Compared with that
on the plains between St. Marie and St. Privat, Gravelotte

was but a cavalryskirmish. We were fortunate enough to meet
a German artillery officer at St. Marie who had been in the

action, and who kindly explained the distribution of the
forces. Large square mounds were scattered about the plain

where the German dead were buried, little wooden crosses
being stuck into them to denote the regiment they had

belonged to. At Gravelotte we saw the dogs unearthing the
bodies from the shallow graves. The officer told us he did

not think there was a family in Germany unrepresented in the
plains of St. Privat.

It was interesting so soon after the event, to sit quietly in
the little summer-house of the Chateau de Bellevue,

commanding a view of Sedan, where Bismarck and Moltke and
General de Wimpfen held their memorable Council. 'Un

terrible homme,' says the story of the 'Debacle,' 'ce general
de Moltke, qui gagnait des batailles du fond de son cabinet a

coups d'algebre.'
We afterwards made a walking tour through the Tyrol, and down

to Venice. On our way home, while staying at Lucerne, we
went up the Rigi. Soon after leaving the Kulm, on our

descent to the railway, which was then uncompleted, we lost
each other in the mist. I did not get to Vitznau till late

at night, but luckily found a steamer just starting for
Lucerne. The cabin was crammed with German students, each

one smoking his pipe and roaring choruses to alternate
singers. All of a sudden, those who were on their legs were

knocked off them. The panic was instantaneous, for every one
of us knew it was a collision. But the immediate peril was

in the rush for the deck. Violent with terror, rough by
nature, and full of beer, these wild young savages were

formidable to themselves and others. Having arrived late, I
had not got further than the cabin door, and was up the

companion ladder at a bound. It was pitch dark, and piteous
screams came up from the surrounding waters. At first it was

impossible to guess what had happened. Were we rammed, or
were we rammers? I pulled off my coats ready for a swim.

But it soon became apparent that we had run into and sunk
another boat.

The next morning the doctor and I went on to England. A week
after I took up the 'Illustrated News.' There was an account

of the accident, with an illustration of the cabin of the
sunken boat. The bodies of passengers were depicted as the

divers had found them.
On the very day the peace was signed I chanced to call on Sir

Anthony Rothschild in New Court. He took me across the court
to see his brother Lionel, the head of the firm. Sir Anthony

bowed before him as though the great man were Plutus himself.
He sat at a table alone, not in his own room, but in the

immense counting-room, surrounded by a brigade of clerks.
This was my first introduction to him. He took no notice of

his brother, but received me as Napoleon received the
emperors and kings at Erfurt - in other words, as he would

have received his slippers from his valet, or as he did
receive the telegrams which were handed to him at the rate of

about one a minute.
The King of Kings was in difficulties with a little slip of

black sticking-plaster. The thought of Gumpelino's
Hyacinthos, ALIAS Hirsch, flashed upon me. Behold! the

mighty Baron Nathan come to life again; but instead of
Hyacinthos paring his mightiness's HUHNERAUGEN, he himself,

in paring his own nails, had contrived to cut his finger.
'Come to buy Spanish?' he asked, with eyes intent upon the

sticking-plaster.
'Oh no,' said I, 'I've no money to gamble with.'

'Hasn't Lord Leicester bought Spanish?' - never looking off
the sticking-plaster, nor taking the smallest notice of the

telegrams.
'Not that I know of. Are they good things?'

'I don't know; some people think so.'
Here a message was handed in, and something was whispered in

his ear.
'Very well, put it down.'

'From Paris,' said Sir Anthony, guessing perhaps at its
contents.

But not until the plaster was comfortably adjusted did Plutus
read the message. He smiled and pushed it over to me. It

was the terms of peace, and the German bill of costs.
'200,000,000 pounds!' I exclaimed. 'That's a heavy

reckoning. Will France ever be able to pay it?'
'Pay it? Yes. If it had been twice as much!' And Plutus

returned to his sticking-plaster. That was of real
importance.

Last autumn - 1904, the literary world was not a little
gratified by an announcement in the 'Times' that the British

Museum had obtained possession of the original manuscript of
Keats's 'Hyperion.' Let me tell the story of its discovery.