about twenty days have elapsed, and nothing has yet been done.
Is this a singular case? By no means; it is quite common."

Last week the police raided a disorderly house. In one room were found
two young children. They were arrested and charged with being inmates
the same as the women had been. Their father appeared at the trial. He
stated that himself and wife and two older children, besides the two in
the dock, occupied that room; he stated also that he occupied it because
he could get no other room for the half-crown a week he paid for it. The
magistrate discharged the two juvenile offenders and warned the father
that he was bringing his children up unhealthily.

But there is no need further to multiply instances. In London the
slaughter of the innocents goes on on a scale more stupendous than any
before in the history of the world. And equally stupendous is the
callousness of the people who believe in Christ, acknowledge God, and go
to church regularly on Sunday. For the rest of the week they riot about
on the rents and profits which come to them from the East End stained
with the blood of the children. Also, at times, so peculiarly are they
made, they will take half a million of these rents and profits and send
it away to educate the black boys of the Soudan.

CHAPTER XXIV--A VISION OF THE NIGHT

All these were years ago little red-coloured, pulpy infants, capable
of being kneaded, baked, into any social form you chose.--CARLYLE.

Late last night I walked along Commercial Street from Spitalfields to
Whitechapel, and still continuing south, down Leman Street to the docks.
And as I walked I smiled at the East End papers, which, filled with civic
pride, boastfully proclaim that there is nothing the matter with the East
End as a living place for men and women.

It is rather hard to tell a tithe of what I saw. Much of it is
untenable. But in a general way I may say that I saw a nightmare, a
fearful slime that quickened the pavement with life, a mess of
unmentionable obscenity that put into eclipse the "nightly horror" of
Piccadilly and the Strand. It _was_ a menagerie of garmented bipeds that
looked something like humans and more like beasts, and to complete the
picture, brass-buttoned keepers kept order among them when they snarled
too fiercely.

I was glad the keepers were there, for I did not have on my "seafaring"
clothes, and I was what is called a "mark" for the creatures of prey t