was then sung--Mr. Wright's muse having
been apparently prolific in the past year, no less than six hymns on the
list being written by himself during those twelve months. It is much to
be hoped that these poetical and aesthetical proclivities will not deaden
his practical energies. This hymn was pitched distressingly high, and
above the powers of all but the "gallery" and a very few indeed of the
guests; but most of them put in a final "Glory, Hallelujah," at the end
of each stanza. Mr. Wright's tunes are bright and cheerful in the
extreme, without being vulgar or offensively secular.

The host himself then spoke a few words on the moral of the Sermon on
the Mount: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness." He
claimed many of those before him as old pals who had "drunk out of the
same pot and shuffled the same pack of cards," and contrasted his
present state with theirs. Then they listened, open-mouthed and
eager-eyed, though they had been sitting two full hours. He pictured the
life of Christ, and His love for poor men. "Christ died for you," he
said, "as well as for the 'big people.' Who is that on the cross beside
the Son of God?" he asked in an eloquent apostrophe. "It is a thief.
Come to Christ, and say, 'I've no character. I'm branded as a felon. I'm
hunted about the streets of London. He will accept you.'" He drew a
vivid picture of the number of friends he had when he rowed for Dogget's
Coat and Badge. He met with an accident midway; "and when I got to the
Swan at Chelsea," he said, "I had no friends left. I was a losing man.
Christ will never treat you like that. He has never let me want in the
nine years since I have been converted." After a prayer the assembly
broke up, only those being requested to remain who required advice. The
prayer was characteristic, being interspersed with groans from the
gallery; and then a paper bag, containing bread and cakes, was given to
each, Ned observing, "There, the devil don't give you that. He gives you
toke and skilly." Being desired to go quietly, one gentleman expressed a
hope that there was no policeman; another adding, "We don't want to get
lagged." Ned had to reassure them on my score once more, and then nearly
all disappeared--some ingenious guests managing to get two and three
bags by going out and coming in again, until some one in the gallery
meanly peached!

Only some half-dozen out of the hundred remained, and Ned Wright
kneeling at one of the b