Every magistrate in London has the same experience. Some few years ago a number of such applicants were in North London Court, and the magistrate, with only half a look, knew what was wanted. ‘Take a summons, take a summons,’ he cried, almost as fast as they came up. A slip of paper was given to each, and away they went to the clerk’s office. At length there came a nicely dressed young woman, evidently a last year’s bride. She held her first babe at her breast. One side of her face bore the blush of early womanhood, the other the marks of a brutal husband’s fist. The magistrate had been signing some documents, and had not seen her as she stood there for a few seconds. He looked up and caught sight of the bruises. At the same time the young woman raised her hand to her face, but could only say, ‘My husband, sir--my husband!’ ‘What! Another of you? Take a summons; If I were to sit here from Monday morning till Saturday to protect women that had got drunken and brutal husbands, I should not get through half of them.’ So said Mr. Montague Williams, and he was not far wrong, for if every magistrate were to devote his time and energies to protecting women and putting right domestic grievances, they would not get through half of them. A good number of Englishmen seem to think that they have as perfect a right to thrash or kick their wives as the American had to ‘lick his nigger.’ Yes, and some of these fellows are completely astonished when a magistrate ventures to hold a different opinion. I well remember a great hulking fellow, with a leg-of-mutton fist, being charged with assaulting a policeman. After all the evidence had been given, the magistrate inquired whether the prisoner had been previously charged. ‘Yes, your worship, he was here two months ago, charged with assaulting a female.’ As the prisoner declared this was false, and indignantly denied that he had ever assaulted a female, the gaoler brought in his book, and proved the conviction. The prisoner then looked up in astonishment, and said: ‘Oh, why, it was only my own wife!’