I am glad to find that my companion considers himself well adapted for the work he has undertaken, seeing he has been acquainted from childhood with the manners and customs of licensed victuallers. He confesses to having been born in a public-house, and while the bar constituted the first infant-school he attended, the duly gilded announcement, "Truman, Hanbury, Buxton, and Company's Entire," was the first complete sentence in English with which his opening mind was enriched. That the son of a publican should desire to promote the publicans' benefit, and should thus become an active witness for Christianity among the class to which his father belonged, some will think sufficiently strange. A more striking anomaly is found in the fact that my friend's family were succeeded in the public-house by a teetotaller, and one who remained such until death. The anomaly-hunter will find wares ready-made to his hand in bars, and in scenes behind the bars.

a

We are now out on a special mission, and my companion, who does not usually visit on Saturday evenings, but has made this an extraordinary occasion, is equipped for service with a bundle of tracts in one pocket, a Bible in the other, and a black leather case which encloses The Cottager, The Sunday at Home, and The British Workman, all to be distributed among tavern proprietors and their servants. We now come up to a large corner establishment or restaurant, where two waiters loitering at the side-door are soon in our confidence, and admiring a large engraving in The Cottager, of "A Dinner Party at the Zoo." With tact, readiness, and good nature, some necessary Christian lessons are conveyed; for the city missionary, who has a genius as well as a heart for his work, is the most surprising object a novice is likely to meet with during an evening tour through London streets. Those waiters, for instance, can laugh and chat; laughing and chatting seem to make up their native language; but they can look serious too when some good thing is sent direct to their hearts. Leaving these and turning the corner, we enter a capacious bar, place which strikes one as being an interesting portion of the territory we are so strangely invading. The area being large and the company numerous, the servants can allow us but small attention, though each takes a paper, and returns a kindly recognition. The landlord here so unmistakably favours the work of Christian visitation that a collecting box for the funds of the City Mission is constantly kept in use. There is a Babel-like confusion of conversation, combined with a clatter and clinking of pots and glasses, which at first is likely to make one involuntarily ask if this be not a strange place wherein to speak of Christ and to read his words. What do the people themselves think about the question ? Mr. Landlord, who is far too considerable a person to be visible other than in his representatives, says by his general approval, "Do these people whatever good you can." As regards the servants, they really do value the attentions paid them, and would, if examined, acknowledge their obligations. But what say the people, the wider constituency of publichouse customers? Opinions differ among these witnesses on this, as on all other questions of the age. Listen a moment to those two young fellows who are pushing their way towards the bar; they are

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quietly expressing to one another their disapproval of obtruding religion into a public-house. Per contra, turn your attention to that gentleman in an opposite corner, and who is too far removed from the last speakers to catch their observations. He looks like a man who prides himself in knowing what's what, and now he advances the outspoken opinion that "Religion aint no disgrace to nobody." The tracts, of which there is an abundant supply, are now in requisition. Here is one called "Peaceful and Happy." "Ay, 'Peaceful and Happy ;' that's your style, governor;" and the man, who maybe thinks that it ought to be his style, accepts the little messenger, confessing that the brochure does not describe his condition. Then there is the history of "Polly Pond, the Miner's Wife;" and the "ladies' tract" is well received by those for whom it was prepared. "Sounding Brass; Sounding Brass.' Who will have that?" One here, and another there, until that finds favour also. "Poor Tom;' where is he to be found? Poor Tom'-any one here named Tom?" "My name's Tom." “Ah, there you are." The namesake of "Poor Tom is a tall, wiry-looking man, not far advanced past middle age. He takes the tract with a show of civil satisfaction, and as his name corresponds with the title, he finds much to say; and with considerable volubility, proves to the company that he can form an opinion for himself. He had even heard a sermon from the Hon. and Rev. Baptist Noel, and having once been coachman to a well-known shipowner, at Tottenham, who fitted up one of the first missionary ships, he appeared to think he had more than ordinary claim on our Christian regard, and complained of my companion's want of consideration in not having called upon him at his own house, and hoped to enjoy the pleasure of seeing him before long. It may be remarked here, once for all, that in this and other instances, the private addresses of several persons were taken down, to be visited at their homes during the ensuing week.

There is no one in this bar who ventures to decry the word, which is boldly, and it may be said, nobly spoken. Would any one fully realise the weight and authority of God's truth, they would do well to embrace an opportunity of hearing it proclaimed to a rough congregation, like that of a tavern bar on Saturday night. There is no time for trifling or for showing off; for, distrusting the best words he can command, the evangelist will again and again fall back on the very words of Scripture. To say that I myself, as an admiring on-looker, was instructed and edified is not to say much; and hence the encouraging comments, too lowly spoken to reach my companion's ear, came as a welcome testimony. "I hold with a man like that," said a young man of the mechanic class, to another of his own station; "And so do I, there's no kid about it," was the ready answer. These bar frequenters are illiterate and devoid of taste; but they can prize honesty and courageous endeavours to do them good. Oppose their prejudices by direct appeals to the Bible, and you may often gain an easy conquest over them.

"A good beginning," I said, when we again breathed the pure air of the street.

Well, yes, my companion thought so too. He signified that the work

must be taken as it comes. At times some profitable conversation is secured; at other times he is doomed to disappointment.

Pursuing our way, we next confront a large establishment which, as an omnibus station, and in other respects being a house occupying a commanding position, is said to be worth twenty thousand pounds in the open market. Though a regular attendant at public worship, and one who encourages his employés to copy a good example at least once on the Sabbath, Mr. Landlord does not wholly close on the day of rest, the receipts being too large to allow of his making the sacrifice. Though not numerous, the company here retains some special traits of interest. There stands a man at one end of the bar, with a halffinished glass of ale before him, who strikes one as being "a character." He is of middle age, and his countenance still bears those traces of refinement which arise from education. Instinctively, it would seem, he stands alone, and so keeps aloof from the vulgar herd of the street. Our entrance seemed to awaken him into good humour, for he at once became quite affable, his conversation being free from any profane or even coarse expressions. "Give me the cast of your eye!" he cried, in rapid, authoritative tones. My companion at once looked the man straight in the face, and received his thanks for being so readily obliging. This stranger, who seemed to have made the human eye a special study, said that while the features in general might alter, the expression of the organs of vision remained virtually the same throughout life. He grew really excited on this harmless topic, and laid down many rules for the preservation of sight, which were not without interest and value to students. Yet, after he had observed how divers periodicals were handed over the counter, the tracts appeared to occasion him some perplexity. Who were we, and in what did our business consist? We might belong to a respectable species of colporteurs, or we might be of a genus of which he had never heard in the great world of money-getting. When he was offered a tract he rather awkwardly hesitated, and then, in a polite undertone, declined taking one, because—well, yes, if the truth must be told, his features seemed to say-because "I have no money to-night." When assured that the distribution was entirely gratuitous, he gladly took a copy, though even then he manifested signs of impatience at remarks upon religion, or concerning what in his vocabulary was equivalent-theology. Another person in this house, second only in interest to the genteel-looking stranger, was the barman, whose face brightened when the missionary went up to the counter. The poor fellow was in trouble, being about to resign his situation in consequence of being physically unequal to the heavy toil and the excessively protracted hours attached to Sabbathless weeks. The hours of service required of the employés in some of the more frequented taverns are amply sufficient for a double set of hands, and were landlords more humanely sensitive in this direction, a double set would be provided where one set is now overtaxed. The position of these people is frequently not far removed from slavery. They have no time for self-improvement; there are no opportunities of attending public worship, for were they to attend, as sometimes desired, they would find it impossible to keep awake through the sermon. To the mind of a man like our friend the barman, the ordinary working

hours of bricklayers and carpenters are as easy as could be desired. With the weekly half-holiday those hours preclude all necessity for opening museums and picture galleries on the Sabbath, consequent on want of time to attend them during the week. That barman, a smart, good-looking, active young fellow, said he would be glad enough to get a situation at twenty-three shillings a week, and escape the thraldom of the bar.

Still pursuing our way, we are everywhere civilly received, the employés in the bars of the larger houses still giving us a genial welcome, but to refer to every character met with would be impossible in a limited space. Here is seen, in one group, a respectable-looking widow, a modest-looking girl, and a young fellow who is treating them to stout. Though the widow, as a portly person, can evidently take her couple of glasses without inconvenience, the girl holds the glass daintily in her gloved hand, laughs at every witty remark of her protector the gallant swain, and affects coyness in general. These accept our tracts, and listen respectfully to what is said. Then we encounter a woman who, coming in for a jug of beer, says she is glad to see the missionary abroad, while in the same place is a cabman much depressed in mind consequent on his child having been lately drowned in a watertank, and his heart being soft, he listens to kind Christian advice with apparent thankfulness. The tracts are still eagerly received by old and young, only one man during our evening round openly refusing to accept the Gospel message; many of the people even manifest a kind of pride in showing tracts received on former occasions, and take some trouble to explain that the papers are never destroyed. The children, also, are always remembered, and in one house a little girl comes forward to seek her portion of religious literature.

In front of one bar, among the crowd, stands a young man, who, being civil, and even complimentary, assures us he detected our business as soon as we entered. His mind is stored with texts of Scripture, learned at a Sabbath-school, and his views of the plan of salvation are also in the main correct-too correct, indeed, to suit the taste of an argumentative individual standing by, whose judgment is probably more trustworthy as regards beer than as regards theology. Two or three yards away, several workmen, with pipes and pots, surround a large barrel, and one of these, observing what attention others are receiving, grows jealous, suspecting he will be overlooked, and so steps forward to attract notice. These men speak their mind in a rough and ready manner, and with a pleasant freedom from improper language. Speak of man's duty in reading the Bible; one of these declares that he does not know that he ever read a chapter of Scripture during his life. Speak of man's corrupt heart; another says that he knows his heart is evil because it has again and again led him astray. He may give up drinking for a time, to put himself financially straight, but then his evil heart, as he confesses, leads to his again breaking in upon the store. Uneducated, outspoken men who will confess so much as this may be nearer to the kingdom of heaven than their respectable neighbours suspect.

Such was our experience in the larger taverns. We now turned attention to houses of a much inferior class, and situated in the back

streets, each being a rendezvous of dustmen and others, who, as a thirsty clan, are considerable customers. The landlord of one of these places is mentioned as ranking among the few who opposed the operations of the missionary on the occasion of his first calling. The house itself immediately strikes one as being a decidedly unpleasant place. Mr. Landlord being an intemperate, depraved character, the customers are also of a low order; and one might be excused for feeling ill-atease in the evil precincts of such a bar. On looking round the frowzy interior, nothing is discovered which tends to make vice more sightable. Everything repels one by its frowning gloom; the company, even, consisting of a man and woman, separated by the length of the bar, being the most uncanny people met with during the evening. Mark well that man, if he really be a man. To the unassisted eye he resembles a reeking bundle of rags, whence issue forth sounds of imbecile merriment, the laughter evidently being provoked by my companion's kindly enquiries after Mr. Landlord's health. Poor old creature! We must regard him with pity rather than with contempt, even though he wear the drunkard's uniform, and does not, to judge by external evidence, patronise soap and water at the most prosperous of seasons. laughed internally, making little noise, and another fit of merriment occurred on his taking a tract, and listening to some remarks addressed directly to himself. He seemed to think religion, and all connected with religion, the funniest things on earth. Anon, he refers to his "missus" and "gal," making one shudder involuntarily to hear of such a creature's possessing either wife or daughter. Yet while the Son of Man comes to seek such as are lost, who shall say that the Gospel is spoken to such outcasts in vain?

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In other beer-houses the usual fraternity of dustmen were found congregating in force. Though in many instances they were noisy and profane, the fact must be placed to their credit, that they offered no direct incivility or opposition to our progress; they were even pressingly hospitable, and seemed unable to understand the fortitude and self-denial on our part which successfully resisted their importunity to partake of a rich Saturday night concoction of ale and ginger-beer. This dustmen's district, as it may be called, was formerly very effectively served by one who some years since went to his rest, and it was striking as well as affecting to find how the good missionary's memory is cherished and honoured by the rough people who were once his constituents. In one beer-house, and then in another, men and women paid voluntary tributes of respect to the memory of Henry Pearson.

The men patronising their favourite houses, are often found with their wives, muddling their brains and squandering their resources by drinking inordinate quantities of spirits and beer.

The reader will perhaps now admit that the beer-shop on a Saturday night is not only a legitimate sphere of missionary action, but is a place likely to supply some phases of street-life alike useful and interesting to legislators and philanthropists. The house we are now entering is crowded, the hour-hand of the clock is fast approaching eleven, and some of the company have taken rather more than is good for them, though no cases of far-gone drunkenness are observable. The women are numerous, and are of the slatternly genus, but, unthrifty