I ask any one who, like myself, has studied the comfort of the lower classes, Has this privacy been accorded to them? I am prepared distinctly to assert that, generally speaking, this right has not been conceded. Few people have an idea how the poor shrink from allowing their extreme poverty to be seen by each other; for instance, unless a poor woman can have the means of washing the tattered garments of her family "in privacy," she will not avail herself of any washing-house, however commodious, where the family's abject poverty is brought immediately under the eye of her neighbours, although perhaps equally poor as herself.

This may be termed false pride; but it is inherent in their nature, and the attempt to reason with the class to whom I allude on this peculiarity is perfectly futile.

I have touched on the admirable arrangements of Miss Coutts's buildings. I trust, should my extramural idea of buildings being erected by Government out of London be carried out, that a large playground for children, and a creche for the younger branches, might be organized, which would afford the mothers an opportunity of going away for some hours during the day, and earning by charing and other employment additional means to clothe and instruct their families, which now they are obliged to forego obtaining, from having to look after the younger portions of their family.

The creches in Paris can hardly be excelled, being, as it were, Infant Nurseries, easily and cheaply supervised; and if once the benefit of them were at a small primary outlay made apparent, I doubt not that the mothers would soon gladly themselves subscribe for the continuance of such excellent and desirable institutions. To carry into execution the Government scheme which I propose would be most easy, money being obtainable with the greatest facility. Very few years have elapsed since the fact was authenticated in the City that on Government requiring a sum of Twelve millions in the course of one week Forty-two millions were placed at their disposal, although the price was not such as to offer any very great gain to those who thus offered to subscribe.

It would be desirable, that although Government caused buildings to be constructed for the housing of the poorer classes, the buildings should not be called by any name which should give them in the slightest degree the character of Unions, or Asylums. I should simply propose blocks of buildings should be formed into Squares, which, when named, should similarly designate the buildings.

The experimental primary outlay of Government I would calculate at £100,000, which would give nearly four Squares, according to the Rochester Buildings designed in Westminster, of 436 tenements, in buildings constructed by Government, untrammeled by District Surveyor's expensive regulations. The money could at any time be raised in a fortnight, and the buildings could be contracted for, not to be paid until completed. Thus, the Interest to the subscribers to the

Guaranteed Stock at the end of the first six months would be provided for by Government, who would at the same time be reimbursed by the proceeds arising from the occupancy of the buildings.

Should the scheme succeed, and stand well the test of a couple of years, Government could then raise a very large sum, and the plan now proposed be carried out to a large extent round London, and might be gradually extended throughout Great Britain and Ireland, to the great advantage of the health and morals of the inhabitants of all large towns.

Surely, if these calculations are correct, it behoves Government to move in the matter. The proposal now made I base on seeing that the Government in India guarantee a percentage on railways, steam flotillas, irrigation, canals, and other public works; and in England no difficulty seems to be raised for advancing the interests of Red Sea Telegraphs, Galway Packet Postal Communication, and other schemes, none of which would tend so much to the credit of the country in general as the amelioration of the condition of the poor.

From that class we draw the real sinews of war-our soldiers and sailors. Improve their morals, give them pure air, decent dwellings, and raise them from the slough of degradation in which they now are, and it will shortly be found that self-respect is not one of the least of the benefits which bettering their condition brings with it. Nothing will deprive the Gin Palace of its allurements till you make the Home of the working man one to which he can reasonably give that appellation. It is the duty of Statesmen to better the condition of the labouring classes. The present Emperor of the French, with that keen perception with which he is endowed, has long since acted on this principle; and whilst he has transformed Paris into a wondrous city of enchantment, the “Ouvrier" regards him as his best friend, as the only Monarch who has invariably supported the working man's rights and cared for his well-being. It has been said that the man who makes two blades of grass grow where only one did before deserves well of his country: if my plan should at any time be carried out by Government, in consequence of these remarks causing the public attention to be turned to the topic, I shall feel that I have not laboured vainly in the field of philanthropy; and right glad should I be if my pen should have aided the working classes to attain to possession of more comfortable homes, which will raise them in the scale of creation, both mentally and physically, to their own advantage, and certainly to the credit of those "set in authority over them," to whom in this matter they have a fair right to look for sympathy and support.

Army and Navy Club, June 3, 1861.

NADRIONE SPETNIONE:" WISHES FULFILLED.

IN THREE PARTS.-PART II.

BY THE AUTHOR OF PAUL FERROL," ETC.

WHILE an event which is either dreaded or desired is at a distance, the mind shelters itself behind the intervening space, and puts off fearing the thing that some day will be, but as yet is not. But when that which was looked upon as distant comes suddenly into actual presence, the unexpected contact tackles every nerve to endure the shock. So it was with Iris. Altogether absorbed in what she had already done, she had now to bring it face to face with another event which had been lost sight of in her new interest. The two were incompatible; but how could she escape either? The one which it had seemed possible to elude while it was still far off, had rolled in upon the instant, and was close to that other event which was already within the door. Meantime, the bewildered Iris was forced to be a passive machine in the hands of Madame le Prince, submitting to be decked out as though silks and flowers could interest her, and to be tortured by the repetition of trite precepts, while her very being was absorbed in events which threatened to overwhelm her. The hour of grace was going by, and she had no counsellor, no protector, to guide her how to meet the one of wrath that was advancing. The time was very nearly over, when a message came to Madame le Prince that she was wanted instantly in the court of the Castle; for, by a most unfortunate chance, the pet lory of the Princess, which was as much the charge of Madame as Iris was, had escaped, and would allow itself to be caught by no one, unless, perhaps, it should be obedient to herself, its familiar friend. With a cry of despair, Madame le Prince started from the chair, whence she was superintending her pupil's toilette; and adjuring the dressers to use both speed and talent, toddled out of the room, calling on Ste. Favorite to help her. She was scarcely gone when the opposite door opened, and Julian himself stood there, ghastly as a man new risen from a bed of death, or, indeed, as one who by the arts of medicine contrives to wear that appearance. His thick short curls seemed glued to his forehead by the damp perspiration; his lips were white as his cheeks, his eyes sunken under their heavy lids, his steps trembling. He advanced into the room with difficulty, and bade the attendants withdraw with a tone of authority which might have been idle, had not his hand conveyed a golden argument into theirs. When they were alone, he sank into a chair, seemingly unable to support himself; and Iris, dropping into another by his side, laid her hand and her head on the arm of the one where he sate speechless, but trembling. "Wife," he said, "preserving angel, I have succeeded in ridding ourselves of your guardian's presence, that I might behold you once again."

"Thank God!" said Iris. "Tell me what to do?"

"Be very prudent: let nothing be known."

Nay, not so; what I have done, I will avow; only help me, Julian."

Yes, with my whole soul and strength; but as yet we must temporize. Conceal all; let others suppose themselves not distasteful to you; nothing but an interview is to take place to-day; no assent is required from you, no pledge-be silent merely, my wife."

"Silence would be false speaking: it would be a disavowal of you," said Iris.

"Alas! of me ?" said Julian. "Not so. It would be safety for mefor you and for me at the present moment; and beyond that, Iris, there will be nothing to conceal. Silence will protect your husband of to-day. To-morrow there will be no Julian to deny or acknowledge."

"Oh, heavens! are you indeed so ill?"

"Look at me. Is this face, are these hands stamped by life or death? Yet I would fain live these few hours in peace. If you betray me, what can I expect but to be cast out, dying as I am, to perish in the street? You will not, Iris ?"

"Oh me! I will follow you; die with you."

"Beloved wife, those are the words of mere enthusiasm. You cannot die with me-you are a prisoner in your father's house; but you can live, and cause me to die at ease.'

'Oh, Julian! you break my heart."

"Not so: take comfort, and promise what I ask. See, my few instants are at an end. Your old duenna must return in another moment-no more words are granted. I fly, and leave my petition, my counsel with you for silence. Iris, wife, farewell."

He rose, and taking her head in his hands, kissed her lips; then feebly yet swiftly moving to the door, he closed it; nor was it too soon, for as he disappeared, the opposite end of the room admitted the voice of Madame le Prince, and, in another half minute, her person. "Ciel! que de peines dans ce monde !" cried she. Are you not yet dressed ?" And then perceiving that Iris had made no progress in her toilette, and that tears were flowing like the silent gush of an over-full fountain from her eyes, she broke out into invectives in which her own misery was the only theme. "Am I miserable, am I ill-rewarded? Was there none of all the saints I have worshipped so well to keep that lory in his cage, and to get this girl's gown on, and her stupid tears dried up? No matter. I give it up; I am ruined, and it's all the same. I sit down and die." So saying, she subsided on a chair, her arms falling on each side, as though pains enough to set them on her lap were not worth while. But Iris was too miserable to regard this artificial sorrow; she stood there silent, scarcely aware of her governess's presence, her mind wholly fixed on the scene and the person who had but now occupied the room, and her ear, if aware of the lamentations uttered, regardless

of their trivial and selfish topics. Seeing this insensibility, Madame le Prince sprang up, and furiously ringing the hand-bell recalled the female attendants, and inquired if the devil had been there to make them thus desert their post. They informed her he had not; and Madame le Prince further asking how they dared answer her, bade them not chatter, but work; and giving over Iris to their hands, proceeded, as though she had been an image rather than a voluntary creature, to efface the effects of her tears with rose-water and warm towels, time not sufficing to inquire the cause of them. Indeed, of time there was barely enough, after finishing the preparation of Iris, to put herself into a comely black gown and a lace cap, finished by a little judicious orange-yellow ribbon, when the carriages of the party were heard coming full pace down the street, and entering with a hollow sound the great courtyard of the Palace. Madame le Prince went down stairs to receive them, and after five minutes' absence, returned in the train of the Princess, who, in her travelling dress, entered the room, at the furthest end of which Iris was shrinking like one who in a ship about to founder, recedes to the highest part, to avoid yet some moments the certain death that is coming, and soon must, engulf all. "Approach," said the mother; and the daughter, moving as an automaton might, drew near and curtsied to the ground. Fear nothing," said Madame de Polskoi, satisfied in her own mind at the awe she inspired. "An obedient child has as little occasion to dread, as one opposed to its parents has all to fear." She then ceremoniously embraced her daughter, who meekly received the cold salute. "Sit by me, Iris," said her mother, placing herself on an easy chair, and pointing to the one next her; "and Madame," she added, "allow us to have a little private conversation, while breakfast is being served down stairs. I shall be obliged to you to prepare me some in your sitting-room, and when the meal is over, we will join the gentlemen, and I shall request your presence to accompany my daughter." Madame le Prince bowed assent, and retreated through the door, which was no sooner closed than the Princess opened her communication to her passive child.

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"It gives me pleasure, Iris, to see what justice you do in person and manner to the pains I have taken for your education; the time is now come to reward you for your improvement, and to introduce you to a world full of amusement and delight. I shall present you to your future husband to-day." "Mother," said Iris, clasping her hands together, "do not give me to another." "What is that you are saying?" said Madame Polskoi. 66 Surely Madame le Prince has announced why I am here ?" "Yes," said Iris. "And do you imagine I came to argue about the scheme, and to adopt it or not, according as it suited you or otherwise?" "No," said Iris ; yet, I conjure you, let me be as I am !" "And why ?" said the mother, very deliberately pronouncing the two words. "Mother, my soul-" Iris began; but Madame Polskoi interrupted her. "Yes, yes, my love,

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