the respectable public-house. How long will society sanction such places? How long will they retard the progress of the nation by wasting energies, and time, and cash, and opportunities that might have been devoted to nobler ends? How long with their splendour—with their gilding and glass—with their air of respectability and comfort, will they attract the unwary, ruin the weak, and slay the strong man in his strength and pride? NIGHT-HOUSES. Plutarch begins one of those biographies which in all times have been the charm of childhood and age, by remarking that, “If things are implicated in a dependence upon definite numbers, it is a necessity that the same things must often happen, being effected by the same means.” Thus is it, life in all its broad aspects is everywhere the same. All over the globe there is a wonderful uniformity in human habits. Men who work hard—as a rule—rise early, and go to bed early. Night is the time for rest. So far at least there is harmony between God’s law and man’s. The men and women who transgress are for the most part waifs and strays. Such are the denizens of our streets by night—such are they who crowd, not alone the night public-houses, but night coffee-houses of our metropolis. Here in London these houses are of all kinds. For instance, let us enter one in the Haymarket. The rooms are as smart as gilding and ornamented paper and plate-glass can make them. The waiters are got up regardless of expense. The coffee is good, but dear. The men and women are of the kind usually met with in this locality during the small hours. The greater part are fools enough to think it worth while to buy a little worldly wisdom at a price—it may be at the loss of their bodies and souls—none but madmen would think of paying. In such places as these you are as sure to be injured as if you sat all night carousing in a public-house. These women with forced smiles on their painted cheeks are the veritable Harpies. Theirs is the true sardonic laugh. Do you remember one way in which that ancient phrase is accounted for? Sardinia, it was said, was noted for a bitter herb which contracted the features of those who tasted it. Pausanias says it is a plant like parsley, which grows near springs, and causes people who eat it to laugh till they die; and these women, have they not eaten a bitter plant, and do they not laugh and die? Beware of the women. Beware of the men. See how their cunning eyes glisten if you change a sovereign. If they can get you into a neighbouring public-house and rob you, they will be rather pleased than otherwise. Look at that tall dark fellow watching us. It was only the other day he met a man here, as he might you or I, and decoyed him into a public-house close by, where his confederates were waiting, and robbed him of forty pounds when they thought their victim was sufficiently “fuddled” with champagne. He and such as he are not particular who they rob.