died because their mother, having but one room to live in, was obliged to wash and dry clothes close to their bed when they were ill.  The poor people in London naturally do without washing all they can, and beneath that perpetual fall of soot the result may be guessed.  All but the very poor in England put out their washing, and this custom ought to be universal in civilized countries, as it can be done much better and quicker by a few regular laundresses than by many families, and “the washing day” is so malignant a foe to the peace and joy of households that it ought to be effaced from the calendar.  But as long as we are so miserable as to have any very poor people in this world, they cannot put out their washing, because they cannot earn enough money to pay for it, and, preliminary to something better, washing establishments like this of London are desirable.

One arrangement that they have here in Paris will be a good one, even when we cease to have any very poor people, and, please Heaven, also to have any very rich.  These are the Creches,—­houses where poor women leave their children to be nursed during the day while they are at work.

I must mention that the superintendent of the washing establishment observed, with a legitimate triumph, that it had been built without giving a single dinner or printing a single puff,—­an extraordinary thing, indeed, for England!

To turn to something a little gayer,—­the embroidery on this tattered coat of civilized life,—­I went into only two theatres; one the Old Drury, once the scene of great glories, now of execrable music and more execrable acting.  If anything can be invented more excruciating than an English opera, such as was the fashion at the time I was in London, I am sure no sin of mine deserves the punishment of bearing it.

At the Sadler’s Wells theatre I saw a play which I had much admired in reading it, but found still better in actual representation; indeed, it seems to me there can be no better acting play:  this is “The Patrician’s Daughter,” by J.W.  Marston.  The movement is rapid, yet clear and free; the dialogue natural, dignified, and flowing; the characters marked with few, but distinct strokes.  Where the tone of discourse rises with manly sentiment or passion, the audience applauded with bursts of generous feeling that gave me great pleasure, for this play is one that, in its scope and meaning, marks the new era in England; it is full of an experience which is inevitable to a man of talent there, and is harbinger of the day when the noblest commoner shall be the only noble possible in England.