to a boy of the middle class.  He is taken from school at sixteen and sent to a merchant’s office or a shop.  Here he works from nine till six, or perhaps later.  How many of these lads, when their day’s work is over—­what proportion of the whole—­make any attempt at all to carry on their education or to learn anything new?  For instance, there are two things, the acquisition of which doubles the marketable value of a clerk:  one is a knowledge of shorthand, and the other is the power of reading and writing a foreign language.  This is a fact which all clerks very well understand.  But not one in a hundred possesses the industry and resolution necessary to acquire this knowledge, and this, though he is taught from infancy to desire a good income, and knows that this additional power will go far to procure it.  Again, these boys come from homes where there are some books at least, some journals, and some papers; and they hear at their offices and at home talk which should stimulate them to effort.  Yet most of them lie where they are.

If such boys as these remain in indolence, what are we to expect of those who belong to the lower levels?  For they have no books at home, no magazines, no journals; they hear no talk of learning or knowledge; if they wanted to read, what are they to read? and where are they to find books?  Free libraries are few and far between:  in all London, for instance, I can find but five or six.  They are those at the Guildhall, Bethnal Green, Westminster, Camden Town, Notting Hill, and Knightsbridge.  Put a red dot upon each of these sites on the map of London, and consider how very small can be the influence of these libraries over the whole of this great city.  Boys and girls at thirteen have no inclination to read newspapers; there remains, therefore, nothing but the penny novelette for those who have any desire to read at all.  There is, it is true, the evening school, but it is not often found to possess attractions for these children.  Again, after their day’s work and confinement in the hot rooms, they are tired; they want fresh air and exercise.  To sum up:  there are no existing inducements for the children to read and study; most of them are sluggish of intellect; outside the evening schools there are no facilities for them at all; they have no books; when evening comes they are tired; they do not understand their own interests; after a day’s work they like an evening’s rest; of the two paths open to every man at every juncture, one is for the most part hidden to children, and the other is always the easier.

Therefore they spend their evenings in the streets.  They would sometimes, I dare say, prefer the gallery of the theatre or the music-hall, but these are not often within reach of their means.  The street is always open to them.  Here they find their companions of the workroom; here they feel the strong, swift current of life; here something is always happening; here there are always new pleasures; here they can