years.  Does this mean conversion to the Anglican Church?  Not exactly; it means, first, that the people have become too poor to maintain a chapel, and next, that they have become too poor to think of religion.  So long as an Englishman’s head is above the grinding misery, he exercises, as he should, a free and independent choice of creeds, thereby vindicating and assorting his liberties.  Here there is no chapel, therefore no one thinks; they lie like sheep; of death and its possibilities no one heeds; they live from day to day; when they are young they believe they will be always young; when they are old, so far as they know, they have been always old.

The people being such as they are—­so poor, so hopeless, so ignorant—­what is done for them?  How are they helped upward?  How are they driven, pushed, shoved, pulled, to prevent them from sinking still lower?  For they are not at the lowest depths; they are not criminals; up to their lights they are honest; that poor fellow who stands with his hands ready—­all he has got in the wide world—­only his hands—­no trade, no craft, no skill—­will give you a good day’s work if you engage him; he will not steal things; he will drink more than he should with the money you give him; he will knock his wife down if she angers him; but he is not a criminal.  That step has yet to be taken; he will not take it; but his children may, and unless they are prevented they certainly will.  For the London-born child very soon learns the meaning of the Easy Way and the Primrose Path.  We have to do with the people ignorant, drunken, helpless, always at the point of destitution, their whole thoughts as much concentrated upon the difficulty of the daily bread as ever were those of their ancestor who roamed about the Middlesex Forest and hunted the bear with a club, and shot the wild goose with a flint-headed arrow.

First there is the Church work; that is to say, the various agencies and machinery directed by the Vicar.  It may be new to some readers, especially to Americans, to learn how much of the time and thoughts of our Anglican beneficed clergymen are wanted for things not directly religious.  The church, a plain and unpretending edifice, built in the year 1838, is served by the Vicar and two curates.  There are daily services, and on Sundays an early celebration.  The average attendance at the Sunday morning mid-day service is about one hundred; in the evening it is generally double that number.  They are all adults.  For the children another service is held in the Mission Room, The average attendance at the Sunday-schools and Bible-classes is about three hundred and fifty, and would be more if the Vicar had a larger staff of teachers, of whom, however, there are forty-two.  The whole number of men and women engaged in organized work connected with the Church is about one hundred and twenty-six.  Some of them are ladies from the other end of London, but most belong to the parish itself; in the choir, for instance, are found a barber, a postman, a caretaker, and one or two small shopkeepers, all living in the parish, When we remember that Ratcliff is not what is called a ‘show’ parish, that the newspapers never talk about it, and that rich people never hear of it, this indicates a very considerable support to Church work.