that　a　tragedy　is　taking　place。　　There　is　a　sound　of　crashing　blows　and　then　silence。
  It　is　customary　in　the　slums　to　leave　the　house　door　open　perpetually；　which　is　convenient　for　tramps；　who　creep　into　the　hall…ways　to　sleep　at　night；　thereby　saving　the　few　pence　it　costs　to　occupy　a　〃spot〃　in　the　cheap　lodging　houses。　　Em　and　Mat　keep　the　corridor　without　their　room　beautifully　clean；　and　so　it　has　become　an　especial　favourite　stamping　ground　for　these　vagrants。　　We　were　told　this　when　Mattie　locked　and　bolted　the　door　and　then　tied　the　keys　and　the　door…handle　together。　　So　we　understand　why　there　are　shuffling　steps　along　the　corridor；　bumping　against　the　panels　of　the　door；　and　heavily　breathing　without　during　the　long　hours　of　the　night。
  All　day　Em　and　Mat　have　been　toiling　among　their　neighbours；　and　the　night　before　last　they　sat　up　with　a　dying　woman。　　They　are　worn　out　and　sleep　heavily。　　Liz　and　I　lie　awake　and　wait　for　the　coming　of　the　morning；　we　are　too　oppressed　by　what　we　have　seen　and　heard　to　talk。
  In　the　morning　Liz　and　I　peep　over　into　the　rear　houses　where　we　heard　those　dreadful　shrieks　in　the　night。　　There　is　no　sign　of　life；　but　we　discover　enough　filth　to　breed　diphtheria　and　typhoid　throughout　a　large　section。　　In　the　area　below　our　window　there　are　several　inches　of　stagnant　water；　in　which　is　heaped　a　mass　of　old　shoes；　cabbage　heads；　garbage；　rotten　wood；　bones；　rags　and　refuse；　and　a　few　dead　rats。　We　understand　now　why　Em　keeps　her　room　full　of　disinfectants。　She　tells　us　that　she　dare　not　make　any　appeal　to　the　sanitary　authorities；　either　on　behalf　of　their　own　or　any　other　dwelling；　for　fear　of　antagonizing　the　people；　who　consider　such　officials　as　their　natural　enemies。
  The　first　visit　we　pay　is　up　a　number　of　eccentric　little　flights　of　shaky　steps　interspersed　with　twists　of　passageway。　　The　floor　is　full　of　holes。　　The　stairs　have　been　patched　here　and　there；　but　look　perilous　and　sway　beneath　the　feet；　A　low　door　on　the　landing　is　opened　by　a　bundle　of　rags　and　filth；　out　of　which　issues　a　woman's　voice　in　husky　tones；　bidding　us　enter。　　She　has　La　grippe。　　We　have　to　stand　very　close　together；　for　the　room　is　small；　and　already　contains　three　women；　a　man；　a　baby；　a　bedstead；　a　stove；　and　indescribable　dirt。　The　atmosphere　is　rank　with　impurity。　　The　man　is　evidently　dying。　Seven　weeks　ago　he　was　〃gripped。〃　　He　is　now　in　the　last　stages　of　pneumonia。　　Em　has　tried　to　induce　him　to　be　removed　to　the　hospital；　and　he　gasps　out　his　desire　〃to　die　in　comfort　in　my　own　bed。〃　　Comfort！　The　〃bed'　is　a　rack　heaped　with　rags。　　Sheets；　pillow…cases；　and　night…clothes　are　not　in　vogue　in　the　slums。　　A　woman　lies　asleep　on　the　dirty　floor　with　her　head　under　the　table。　　Another　woman；　who　has　been　sharing　the　night　watch　with　the　invalid's　wife；　is　finishing　her　morning　meal；　in　which　roast　oysters　on　the　half　shell　are　conspicuous。　A　child　that　appears　never　to　have　been　washed　toddles　about　the　floor　and　tumbles　over　the　sleeping　woman's　form。　　Em　gives　it　some　gruel；　and　ascertains　that　its　name　is　〃Christine。〃
  The　dirt；　crowding；　and　smells　in　the　first　place　are　characteristic　of　half　a　dozen　others　we　visited。　　We　penetrate　to　garrets　and　descend　into　cellars。　　The　〃rear　houses〃　are　particularly　dreadful。　　Everywhere　there　is　decaying　garbage　lying　about；　and　the　dead　cats　and　rats　are　evidence　that　there　are　mighty　hunters　among　the　gamins　of　the　Fourth　Ward。　　We　find　a　number　ill　from　the　grip　and　consequent　maladies。　None　of　the　sufferers　will　entertain　the　thought　of　seeking　a　hospital。　One　probably　voices　the　opinion　of　the　majority　when　he　declares　that　〃they'll　wash　you　to　death　there。〃　　For　these　people　a　bath　possesses　more　terror　than　the　gallows　or　the　grave。
  In　one　room；　with　a　wee　window；　lies　a　women　dying　of　consumption；　wasted　wan；　and　wretched；　lying　on　rags　and　swarming　with　vermin。　Her　little　son；　a　boy　of　eight　years；　nestles　beside　her。　　His　cheeks　are　scarlet；　his　eyes　feverishly　bright；　and　he　has　a　hard　cough。　〃It's　the　chills；　mum；〃　says　the　little　chap。　　Six　beds　stand　close　together　in　another　room；　one　is　empty。　　Three　days　ago　a　woman　died　there　and　the　body　has　just　been　taken　away。　　It　hasn't　disturbed　the　rest　of　the　inmates　to　have　death　present　there。　　A　woman　is　lying　on　the　wrecks　of　a　bedstead；　slats　and　posts　sticking　out　in　every　direction　from　the　rags　on　which　she　reposes。
  〃It　broke　under　me　in　the　night；〃　she　explains。　　A　woman　is　sick　and　wants　Liz　to　say　a　prayer。　　We　kneel　on　the　filthy　floor。　　Soon　all　my　faculties　are　absorbed　in　speculating　which　will　arrive　first；　the　〃Amen〃　or　the　〃B　flat〃　which　is　wending　its　way　to　wards　me。　　This　time　the　bug　does　not　get　there；　and　I　enjoy　grinding　him　under　the　sole　of　my　Slum　shoe　when　the　prayer　is　ended。
  In　another　room　we　find　what　looks　like　a　corpse。　　It　is　a　woman　in　an　opium　stupor。　　Drunken　men　are　brawling　around　her。
  Returning　to　our　tenement；　Em　and　Liz　meet　us；　and　we　return　to　our　experience。　　The　minor　details　vary　slightly；　but　the　story　is　the　same　piteous　tale　of　woe　everywhere；　and　crime　abounding；　conditions　which　only　change　to　a　prison；　a　plunge　in　the　river；　or　the　Potter's　field。
  The　Dark　Continent　can　show　no　lower　depth　of　degradation　than　that　sounded　by　the　dwellers　of　the　dark　alleys　in　Cherry　Hill。　　There　isn't　a　vice　missing　in　that　quarter。　　Every　sin　in　the　Decalogue　flourishes　in　that　feeder　of　penitentiaries　and　prisons。　　And　even　as　its　moral　foulness　permeates　and　poisons　the　veins　of　our　social　life　so　the　malarial　filth　with　which　the　locality　reeks　must　sooner　or　later　spread　disease　and　death。
  An　awful　picture；　truly；　but　one　which　is　to　me　irradiated　with　the　love…light　which　shone　in　the　eyes　of　〃Em's　serious；　sweet；　saintlike　face。〃
  Here　is　my　second。　　It　was　written　by　a　Journalist　who　had　just　witnessed　the　scene　in　Whitechapel。　　He　writes：
  I　had　just　passed　Mr。　Barnett's　church　when　I　was　stopped　by　a　small　crowd　at　a　street　corner。　　There　were　about　thirty　or　forty　men；　women；　and　children　standing　loosely　together；　some　others　were　lounging　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　street　round　the　door　of　a　public…house。　In　the　centre　of　the　crowd　was　a　plain…looking　little　woman　in　Salvation　Army　uniform；　with　her　eyes　closed；　praying　the　〃dear　Lord　that　he　would　bless　these　dear　people；　and　save　them；　save　them　now！〃　Moved　by　curiosity；　I　pressed　through　the　outer　fringe　of　the　crowd；　and　in　doing　so；　I　noticed　a　woman　of　another　kind；　also　invoking　Heaven；　but　in　an　altogether　different　fashion。　　Two　dirty　tramp…like　men　were　listening　to　the　prayer；　standing　the　while　smoking　their　short　cutty　pipes。　　For　some　reason　or　other　they　had　offended　the　woman；　and　she　was　giving　them　a　piece　of　her　mind。　　They　stood　stolidly　silent　while　she　went　at　them　like　a　fiend。　　She　had　been　good…looking　once；　but　was　now　horribly　bloated　with　drink；　and　excited　by　passion。　　I　heard　both　voices　at　the　same　time。　　What　a　contrast！　The　prayer　was　over　now；　and　a　pleading　earnest　address　was　being　delivered。
  〃You　are　wrong；〃　said　the　voice　in　the　centre　〃you　know　you　are；　all　this　misery　and　poverty　is　a　proof　of　it。　　You　are　prodigals。　　You　have　got　away　from　your　Father's　house；　and　you　are　rebelling　against　Him　every　day　Can　you　wonder　that　there　is　so　much　hunger；　and　oppression；　and　wretchedness　allowed　to　come　upon　you？　　In　the　midst　of　it　all　your　Father　loves　you　He　wants　you　to　return　to　Him；　to　turn　your　backs　upon　your　sins；　abandon　your　evil　doings；　give　up　the　drink　and　the　service　of　the　devil。　　He　has　given　His　Son　Jesus　Christ　to　die　for　you。　He　wants　to　save　you。　　Come　to　His　feet。　　He　is　waiting。　　His　arms　are　open。　　I　know　the　devil　has　got　fast　hold　of　you；　but　Jesus　will　give　you　grace　to　conquer　him。　　He　will　help　you　to　master　your　wicked　habits　and　your　love　of　drink。　　But　come　to　Him　now。　　God　is　love。　He　loves　me。　　He　loves　you。　　He　loves　us　all。　　He　wants　to　save　us　all。〃
  Clear　and　strong　the　voice；　eloquent　with　the　fervour　of　intense　feeling；　rang　through　the　little　crowd；　past　which　streamed　the　ever…flowing　tide　of　East　End　life。　　And　at　the　same　time　that　I　heard　this　pure　and　passionate　invocation　to　love　God　and　be　true　to　man　I　heard　a　voice　on　the　outskirts；　and　it　said　this：　　〃You　　swine！　I'll　knock　the　vitals　out　of　yer。　　None　of　your　　impudence　to　me。　　your　　eyes；　what　do　you　mean　by　telling　me　that？　　You　know　what　you　ha'　done；　and　now　you　are　going　to　the　Salvation　Army。　I'll　let　them　know　you；　you　dirty　rascal。〃　　The　man　shifted　his　pipe。　〃What's　the　matter？〃　　〃Matter！〃　screamed　the　virago　hoarsely。〃　　　yer　life；　don't　you　know　what's　the　matter？　　I'll　matter　ye；　you　　hound。　　By　God！　I　will；　as　sure　as　I'm　alive。　　Matter！　you　know　what's　the　matter。〃　　And　so　she　went　on；　the　men　standing　silently　smoking　until　at　last　she　took　herself　off　her　mouth　full　of　oaths　and　cursing；　to　the　public…house。　　It　seemed　as　though　the　presence；　and　spirit；　and　words　of　the　Officer；　who　still　went　on　with　the　message　of　mercy；　had　some　strange　effect　upon　them；　which　made　these　poor　wretches　impervious　to　the　taunting；　bitter　sarcasms　of　this　brazen；　blatant　virago。
  〃God　is　love。〃　　Was　it　not；　then；　the　accents　of　God's　v