authoritatively, but he knew their football and their drinking, their jokes and songs, which dog belonged to which and which among them "subbed" or "liened" before his wage was due. John Willie Garden's boyhood lay behind him now. What was John Willie like to look at by this time, and what was his outlook on the world? You may meet his kind at six o'clock any morning, the sons of Alderman This or Sir John That, going to their fathers' engineering-shops in Leeds, or to Manchester spinning-sheds, or Rochdale factories, or dye-works, or rolling-mills, or drawing-offices, or electrical works. They wear greasy blue overalls and carry tin luncheon-cans, and use cotton-waste for handkerchiefs. They glory in the readiness of their repartee to their fathers' workmen, to be mistaken for one of whom gives them the keenest pleasure. Joyously they attack the blackest and greasiest of the work, honestly forgetting that they could leave this to others if they wished.--But see them in the evening! They have had tea and a "clean-up" by this time. Their heads have been soused and their hands pumiced, they have on their mahogany boots and their white collars, the hands that wielded crowbars or strained with the grip of spanners ply thin and expensive canes now, and you can see the radiance of their approach a quarter of a mile away. They are off to billiard-rooms and card-parties, theatre-boxes, or courting. They will be home fairly early, because of the five-o'clock alarum in the morning, but until then they are so evidently about to enjoy themselves that you sigh if you are unable to join them. Go one night and watch them when next the Pantomime comes. Sit in the second row of the stalls (you won't be able to get into the first row). If the leading lady is pretty, and John Willie and Percy Briggs are there, you won't consider your evening wasted. The show is sure to "go."