ere "annual meeting" of a grand
society. It was indeed that, but a great deal more. There was a "noble
chairman," of course, and an address, and several speeches by eminent
men; but I should suppose that one-half of the audience could not well
see the features of the speakers or hear their words. These were
relatively insignificant matters.

The business of the evening was to present to the people a great Object
Lesson, and the only figure on the platform that bulked large--at least
in my esteem--was that of Dr Barnardo himself, and a magical master of
the ceremonies did the doctor prove himself to be.

Being unable to induce the "West End" to visit the "East End," he had
simply cut several enormous slices out of the slums and set them down in
the Royal Albert Hall for inspection.

The display was set forth interestingly and with emphasis, insomuch that
things almost spoke for themselves, and wherein they failed to do so the
Doctor supplemented in a satisfactorily sonorous voice.

One of the slum-slices was a large one. It consisted of thirteen
hundred children--boys and girls--in bright, light, smart dresses, who
clustered on the orchestra and around the great organ, like flowers in
June. Looking at their clean, wholesome faces, neat attire, and orderly
demeanour, I thought, "Is it possible that these are the sweepings of
the streets?" The question was tellingly answered later on; but here it
may be stated that this beautiful band of 1300 was only a slice--a
sample--of the Doctor's large family, which at present numbers nearly
3500. (It now, in 1893, numbers nearly 5000.)

It was grand to hear them sing! The great organ itself had to sing
small beside them, for wood and metal can never hope to equal the living
human voice, even though it be but a voice from the slums. Not only
hymns but humorous songs they sang, and heroic. A telling effect was
produced while singing one of the latter by the sudden display of 1300
Union Jacks, each the size of a 'kerchief, which the singers waved in
time to the chorus. It seemed as though a stiff breeze had swept over
the flower-bed and kissed the national flag in passing.

Another surprise of this kind was given during the stirring song of _The
Fire Brigade_, when 1300 bits of gold and silver paper, waved to and
fro, seemed to fill the orchestra with flashing fire.

But much of this was for show, to tickle our eyes and ears and prepare
the way, as it were, for the gr