SOCIAL SUGGESTIONS. PAUPER HOSPITALS. In London alone, out of 30,000 in-door paupers, two-thirds are returned as 66 sick and infirm;" and of these it is estimated that some 6,000 are suffering from various forms of acute disease. How large an amount of sickness is represented by these figures will perhaps be more vividly realized when we say that the eighteen hospitals supported by private charity, of which Londoners are so justly proud, provide beds for only 3,738 patients. In what fashion these 6,000 people are, for the most part, cared for at present, the report of the recently-formed Society for the Improvement of the Infirmaries of the London Workhouses furnish us with abundant information. While the Barrack and Hospital Commission has prescribed to each patient in a military hospital an allowance of 1,200 cubic feet of space in the sick-ward of St. Martin-in-theFields Workhouse, the average allowance per bed is 428 feet, at Clerkenwell 429 feet, at Greenwich 450, and at St. Leonard's, Shoreditch, now in the course of erection, the cubic space is limited to 500 feet per bed. At St. Martin's (continues a writer in the Saturday Review, of the 10th ult., from which we concentrate this account) the windows of the surgical-wards are partly blocked up by the accumulated soil of a disused churchyard. At Clerkenwell the rooms look out on a yard which contains the parish dead-house, and a spacious and well-filled dustbin. In some cases the patients' beds are close to an untrapped sewer, in others the atmosphere is vitiated by the putrid stench arising from the untended sores of some miserable inmate. The best medical attendance could do little under such circumstances; but the medical care of workhouse patients is limited, in most instances, to the attendance of one medical officer, who receives rarely more than £100 a-year for his time and prescriptions, out of which he has to purchase the drugs used in making them up! The Workhouse-visiting Society long since exposed the system of nursing in workhouses, the oldest and most infirm inmates being often deputed to this office. "The men are frequently nursed by men who are even more uncouth and ignorant than the women, and in most of the London workhouses, whatever nursing there is, is altogether suspended at night." The very quiet that sometimes offers compensation for neglect is frequently denied these unhappy patients; and at the Strand Union the guardians have established a large carpet-beating business, the scene of which is a yard immediately be patients each," with an adequate staff of doctors, assistants, and trained nurses, and the imposition of a "general metropolitan rate, to be levied for this purpose alone." As to the two first points, observes the Saturday Review, "there can be no difference of opinion. From whatever quarter it is to come, some provision must be made for giving sick paupers a fair chance of recovery and a release from needless pain; and it is obvious that for each workhouse to attempt the cure of its inmates is to throw away all the advantages which are the result of extensive organization. The same outlay will secure a very different return, according as it is economized in one large establishment or frittered away on half-a-dozen small ones. *** So far as grouping together of workhouse infirmaries and the supply of the necessaries of medical treatment go, we quite agree with the Society; we should be glad if the condition of the patients in the workhouse infirmaries could be put on a level, in all respects, with that of the patients at Bartholomew's or St. George's; but we are not prepared to say that it would be fair to do this at the expense of rate-payers, a majority of whom are utterly unable to secure, in their own houses, the advantages which they would thus be made to provide for the patients in the district hospital." He concludes: "We do not see any escape from one of two alternatives: either we must consent to recognize sick. ness, when accompanied by inability to obtain all the most approved means of cure, as conferring a claim on the assistance of the community which would make half the rate-payers occasional paupers, or we must devise a scheme for supplementing and ameliorating the treatment provided in the workhouse from the resources of private charity." PAPAL BRIGANDS IN ENGLAND.-The with England is leading, it is said, to a someFrench construction of the Extradition Treaty what curious addition to the "dangerous Italian brigands who have been sentenced to classes" of the metropolis. It seems that terms of imprisonment in gaols under French superintendence, on being released are asked whether they will go to Italy or to England, and, as in the former case it would be going to certain death, they naturally prefer the safer, if less genial climate of Albion. The result is has had a series of fresh claims as disagreeable that the Italian Benevolent Society in London in themselves as they are burdensome to its funds. "The neath the windows of the sick-ward. measures proposed by the Society to put an end to this state of things," continues our contemporary, "have an appearance of great simplicity. They embrace the establishment of six district pauper-hospitals, capable of containing 1,000 INFANTICIDE.-"The young woman Harris, for the murder of whose illegitimate child the notorious Charlotte Windsor is under sentence of death, was brought up at Devon Assizes, and discharged, no evidence being offered against her."--All we can say is, that we heartily regret the miscarriage of justice which allows this criminal to go at large. This "merciless mother," who coolly takes her little one to the house of the slaughteress, and, while he plays beside her, bargains for the price of his murder, which she can ruthlessly compass in mind, but is too cowardly, or it may be too chary of her personal safety to perpetrate. She waits, however-yes, waits, while it is being done such an escape from deserved punishment is at once a social grievance and an encouragement to the unnatural crime for which her associate is condemned. THE TRICHINE DISEASE.-It may be well to allay, as much as possible, the fears which are leading many persons to a prejudice against the use of pork. The opinion of the Consulting Committee of Health at Paris, which has been referred-to to quiet the public anxiety on this question, has resulted in the statement, that "although pork, in various forms, makes a great staple of food in all countries of Europe, it is only in some districts of Germany that the trichine disease has had serious consequences. It is now known that the affection is caused by the accidental presence in the flesh of the pig of parasitical worms of extreme thinness. It is well to know, from official statistics published at Brunswick, that out of 30,000 pigs submitted during twenty-one months to microscopic inspection, in the capital of the duchy, only eleven were found to be affected with trichine. The course to be taken in families, in order to ensure exemption from this disease, is, not to eat bacon, pork, or sausages, without having them thoroughly cooked. It is well known that the working classes of Germany are in the habit of eating uncooked sausages and raw bacon, and even pork. So ordinary a thing is it considered, that a lady of position (a German by birth, but who is now resident in England) once informed us that, as a cure for some ailment she was suffering from, her physician (a German) prescribed uncooked bacon to be eaten before her breakfast. THE BOY MURDER.-We extract the following passage from the letter of a clever friend : "The sensation-novelists are quite thrown into the shade by an incident that has lately happened in real life. The boy-inurderer! What should we think if we read such a tale in one of the penny papers? The cool calculation of the whole act, and the fiend-like atrocity of taking the poor children out of the water, beating them, and then throwing them in again! I suppose all the world would be up in arms if a child of ten were to be hanged; yet he richly deserves it!"-Without wholly endorsing our correspondent's view, it must be admitted, with regard to capital punishment, that we have gone from one extreme to another. A man was hanged, in 1814, at Chelmsford, for cutting down a cherry-tree; at present it is a very hard case indeed when a murderer is hanged. LEAVES FOR THE LITTLE ONES. CONVERSATIONS WITH PAPA. (Continued from last month.) BY M. C. EMMA. Papa, do tell us some more stories like Blue Beard. PAPA. I hope there are not many more Blue Beards to be talked about; but, as he was such a bad man, suppose we take a good one this time. Have you ever read the history of "Whittington and his Cat?" Том Everybody knows that. EMMA. You may, but I don't; and if you do know, I daresay you couldn't tell it. TOM. You're wrong, Mrs. Em. Here goes. Well, then, Dick Whittington was a small boy, who ran away from home because he was poor and unhappy, and everybody behaved badly to him. So up he went to London, a little beggar having told him it was such a fine place; and that the streets were paved with silver and gold. A good-natured man met with him when he was nearly starving: he took him into his house and had him set to work in the kitchen. Dick got on first-rate, everybody liked him except a cross old cook, who used to beat him with the gravy-spoon. EMMA. What nonsense, Tom! TOм. It's a fact. At last his master, who was very rich, was sending a lot of things abroad in a vessel, to sell, and he told the servants they might each venture something that would turn into money. Dick had nothing but a cat, which he had bought for a penny; but he sent her away with the rest of the goods, and off went the ship. After this his enemy the cook became more snappish every day, so Dick determined to run away. When he had got a good distance he began to feel tired, and sat down to rest on a door-step. Suddenly he heard some bells ringing he listened very attentively, and they seemed to call him by name, saying: : "Turn again, Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor of London." Up he jumped, went back to the merchant's house, and there heard that the King of Barbary bad bought his cat for valuables worth £100,000. THE BIRTHDAY GIFTS. BY GRACE GREENWOOD. PAPA. Very well told, my boy; but some wealthy country-gentleman in the south of part of the story is not true. Toм. Which part? about the cat? One Sunday evening, Mrs. Lee, the wife of a England, was reading a chapter from the Bible, to her little daughters, Gertrude and Alice. As she read, she explained all the difficult passages, and encouraged the children to ask questions concerning them. PAPA. Exactly: neither was Whittington such a poor child as the little books make out. He was the younger son of a large family, and Gertrude and Alice greatly resembled one therefore had not much money when he began another, and as they were always dressed prelife in London, where he used to stand in Corn- cisely alike, they looked almost like twins-yet hill or Cheapside, offering caps, coats, and other there was two years difference in their ages; things for sale, to the passers by. By industry Gertrude was nine, and Alice seven. But it and perseverance, as well as by the success that happened that they had both the same birthday, attended the sale of his goods, sent out in a-the eighth of June. It was now the eve of vessel called the "Cat," (with which he traded to foreign parts), he soon became a rich man, and lived in a large house in Crutched Friars. Ere long he was one of the richest city merchants, and three times Mayor of London: he was also a great favourite with the king. EMMA. Which king, papa? and why did he like him? PAPA. It was Henry IV., who was then very busy with his Scottish wars, and was very glad of the money Whittington lent him to help to carry them on. ALBERT. But what were the things he did, to make you call him a good man, papa? PAPA. It would be impossible to tell you all. He gave a great deal for charitable purposes, and helped to rebuild Newgate prison,where many of the poor men had died for want of proper space and attention. Whittington thought it so shocking that, being seized with an illness before it was finished, he gave sufficient money to complete the building. The libraries of the Guildhall, and other places in London, were also supplied by him. Do you remember the ing-fountains we saw the other day? TOм. In Liverpool, papa ? that day, and they had some difficulty in keeping their childish thoughts from wandering away from the sacred things, of which their mother was reading and speaking, to dwell upon the expected pleasures and presents of the morrow. At last Mrs. Lee came to the passage, "It is more blessed to give than to receive," and paused to ask them if they had ever felt its truth. "I suppose," said Gertrude, "that giving makes people better, but I don't see how it can make them happier. It seems to me that the most delightful thing in the world is to have presents-especially on birthdays." "Yes, mamma," said Alice, " it makes us feel as though everybody we love was glad we were born, and was thankful that God had let us live another year." "Yes, my dear children, there is great pleasure in receiving gifts from those we love, but the pleasure of giving, especially to the needy and the grateful, lasts much longer. It is not merely a pleasure, it is a holy happiness. The blessedness of God consists in his power to give drink-good gifts to his poor children forever, without PAPA. Well, we must try to find you a more amusing one next time, if Tom will manage to bring me a good answer to this question next month: What monarch, turning round to take a farewell look of his own beautiful city (which had fallen into the hands of an enemy), and, looking down from an eminence, on its rich well-watered plains and lovely places, exclaimed: "Were ever sorrows like unto my sorrows" and his mother rebuked him in these words: "You do well to weep like a child, for what you: could not defend like a man"? danger of impoverishing himself. Now, my dears, as to-morrow is your birthday, and you will doubtless have many presents, suppose you test the matter. Take some of your own money, all, if necessary, and purchase presents for some of the poor tenants, and for those nice little girls down at the Lodge; and after a few months I will ask you which you have had the most happiness from your presents received, or your gifts bestowed." The little ladies smilingly agreed to her proposition, and the next morning drove with her into town, to make their pnrchases. They expended all the money in their purses, not a large sum; but the good judgment of their mother made it go a long way. On their return, they were allowed to go out by themselves, to distribute their little gifts. grateful thanks; but nowhere was such sur Everywhere their offerings were received with prised delight expressed as in the sweet, shy faces of the Lodge-keeper's well-bred little daughters, Mattie and Susie Bruce. They were two diffi dent to say much, but they blushed and curtseyed, and their pretty blue eyes fairly danced with joy as they received each a beautiful book, with a red cover and gilt leaves, and filled with the most charming coloured pictures. Gertrude and Alice Lee went home to receive their own costly presents, and to make ready for a gay birthday party; and in the pleasure and excitement of the day and evening, they forgot the pure, unselfish enjoyment of the morning. Six months passed away, and it was wintry weather at Moorlands. On a Sunday evening, the Lee children were sitting before the libraryfire, listening to their mother's sweet-voiced reading of the Scriptures, and it happened that she read again the passage, "It is more blessed to give than to receive;" and that reminded them all of the birthday in the sweet rose-time of the early summer. Mrs. Lee asked them what they thought now of the pleasure of giving and receiving. "Well, mamma," said Gertrude, "we were ever so happy with our presents at first, weren't we, Alice? The party was, in some sort, a present to us, and oh, so delightful! and the ball-dresses you gave us were exquisite; but we have not had a chance to wear them since, and the dolls Aunt Milly sent us were lovely." 66 But you soon tired of them, did you not? "Oh, yes; and they are soiled and broken now." "And the ponies your grandpapa sent you?" "Oh, they did beautifully for a while; but we are so little they despise us, and won't mind us; and it's no pleasure to ride with a groom holding the reins all the time. I like our old donkey better, after all, don't you, Gerty?" "And the fairy books your uncle George sent you" "Oh, we have read them through long ago." "Well now, what about your gifts bestowed? Have you heard from them since your birthday?" "Oh yes, indeed," replied Gertrude, "old Mrs. Martin said, only the other day, that the shawl we gave her is a great comfort these chilly evenings; and poor sick Jenny Welch says the smelling-bottle helps her headache; and Grandfather Watson always leans on the cane we gave him, when he rises in church; and Roger Ames, the lame boy, has made a great many baskets with the knife we gave him, and helped his poor mother very much." 66 And, mamma," put in Alice, "who do you suppose goes every day to read the Bible to blind Mrs. Mason? It is Susie Bruce, and she has learned, oh so fast, to read out of the book I gave her." 66 Yes, mamma," said Gertrude, "and Mattie Bruce took the prize for recitation at Miss Embury's school; and the piece she recited was Wordsworth's poem' We are Seven,' and she found it in the book I gave her." 66 Well, my dear children, what does this little experience teach you?" asked Mrs. Lee. "That it is more blessed to give than to receive," replied Gertrude, reverently. "Yes, mamma," said Alice, "I suppose the good apostle Paul was right; he generally was, wasn't he? But I hope we shall have a few nice presents next birthday, for all that don't you, Gerty.?" CORRESPONDENT. We are gently gliding through Lent as comfortably as we can, without sacrificing the pleasures of this world more than it is absolutely necessary, for the joys of the world to come, and in conscience I do not think that we shall look the worse for our fasts and prayers when we cast off the sackcloth and ashes of this holy season. Mid-Lent was very gay in spite of the rain. The blanchisseuses (washerwomen) and other masks paraded the boulevards in grand array, and danced in the evening as usual. All the public ball-rooms were re-opened as well as several private ones. The Princess de Metternich gave a masked promenade concert, at which the lion of the day, l'Abbé Listz, charmed the company in spite of his priesthood and the recent death of his mother. He played "Have several pieces to the delighted throng, but from humility I imagine refused to execute anything of his own composition. His apparition in Paris has caused quite a sensation. you seen Listz? How is he dressed?" resounded on all sides when it was known that the holy man had quitted the Vatican to breathe the impure air of Paris. But his triumph was at the church St. of Eustache; the ladies present at his mass actually got up on their chairs to get a glimpse of him as he entered the church with his son-in-law Monsieur Ollivier. He came to Paris on purpose for this mass Couronnement," which was chanted by all the best singers here, for the benefit of the poor, and produced 60,000 francs (£2,400). The Archbishop of Paris has forbidden women to sing in these masses, much to the Abbé's de Le spair, who was obliged to employ children in the parts destined for female voices. Ith in had been so much talk of this new composition for several months, that we counted on a masterpiece, but the success has not been so great as was expected, and it has been severely criticised. The splendid old church was crowded to excess, all the oratorios are sung there, and always attract a multitude; but Listz himself was the real attraction this day. His clerical costume has not changed his appearance in the least, and many remarked that Monsieur Ollivier looked more like a monk than his animated father-inlaw. The former seemed to have made his face for the occasion, and looked very solemn, as becomes the attendant on a god. Let us hope that we have heard the last of this god for a little while, for so much ado about a man grates on one's nerves at last. There was a grand concert also at the Tuileries the other night. The company arrived at nine o'clock in ball attire; at ten the Emperor entered the room with the Princess Matilde, followed by the Empress, and the Prince of Denmark. Everyone rose to receive them, and the entertainment commenced immediately. During the "entr'acte" of half-an-hour their majesties complimented the artists who are not applauded; and as soon as the music was over, the company passed into another saloon, where refreshments were served, and where their majesties chatted with the happy few. At twelve the Emperor and Empress retired, and their guests also as quickly after as possible. The quartier latin has just had a great satisfaction, that of annoying their majesties. It was known that the Emperor and Empress intended to honour the Ođèon with their presence at the first representation of the "Contagion," the new comedy by Emile Augier. The students are in a great rage, because the splendid garden du Luxembourg, their only public walk, is to be cut up into streets and covered with houses, so a protestation was organized. The theatre was surrounded by the hot-headed youths for hours before the doors were opened; there were thousands of them, singing, whistling, shouting, laughing, and talking; and as soon as the imperial carriages appeared they begun, "Luxembourg, Luxembourg! Pépinière, Pépinière" (The pépinière is the most delightful part of the garden, unique in Paris). Their majesties as usual appeared at the window of their private saloon in the theatre; the same shouts assailed them, until the Emperor, in a rage, shut the window. Fancy the delight of the crowd at this proof of their success. The police arrested several of them. The theatre was crammed with all that Paris possesses de plus distingué, and the chief of the secret police, Monsieur Hyrvoix, had taken several hundred tickets for his men, so that their majesties were well guarded, as they always are in spite of appearance. The piece is a new laurel for its author; the night, indeed, was a long suite of success and applause for both author and actors; Contagion" seems to satisfy the most and " difficult, and places Monsieur Augier at the summit of contemporary dramatic authors. It is a study of the present mœurs in Paris, and shows how contagion gradually perverts the most noble-minded. We have been rich this month in literary productions. The "Travailleurs de la Mer," by Victor Hugo, has just appeared, and is worthy of its author. It is one of the most exciting tales possible to read, and will be more popular even than "les Miserables." I advise no one to begin it without they have time to go through it; for it is impossible to put down the work when once commenced. The reception of Monsieur Prevost-Paradol, at the Académie Française, was very brilliant. For weeks before the day there were no more tickets to be had, and long before the opening of the doors, those who had tickets waited in the rain to be first in getting a good place, and finished by being very glad to get what they could. Everyone expected that PrevostParadol would make many political allusions, but we were disappointed; there was not a word of anything of the kind in his whole discourse. The long burst of enthusiasm with which Monsieur Guizot was welcomed when he entered the House, and when he arose to reply to the new member, must have been particularly agreeable to the venerable old statesman: in fact, one might see that he was quite moved by it. It was really quite a treat to hear his eloquent voice once more; and those who as sisted at this séance will be long before they forget it. Prevost-Paradol was presented to the Emperor the Sunday after, by Monsieur Guizot and Monsieur Patin. I should love to have seen the interview, for Prevost-Paradol has always been a thorn in his Majesty's side; and I fancy what a grimace Napoleon III. made when complimenting his antagonist-and that in company of Monsieur Guizot! Apropos of Monsieur Guizot, the act of authority lately exercised by the "Consistoire," in superannuating the pastor Martin-Paschond on account of his Unitarian doctrine, has been cancelled by the Minister of Public Worship, to whom the pastor had appealed. It was the triumph of the orthodox party, headed by Monsieur Guizot. The Minister has replied, by letter, that the Consistoire has no right to superannuate a clergyman recognized by Government, without his own demand; so the venerable gentleman is reinstated in his ministry, and there will be fierce war again in the Protestant church. It is rather a strange thing, methinks, that a Roman Catholic minister can decide such a question. If Monsieur MartinPaschond choose to preach heathenism, the Protestants must accept him then. The freethinkers and their newspapers have quite espoused the pastor's cause, and triumph in his success. The Prince Imperial has had the measles, but is well again. The Emperor named him President of the coming Great Exhibition, having no one else in hand for so great an honour |