It will thus be seen that those of us who think that the place is a Charity, and therefore call it one—­including Lord Eldon and Lord Lyndhurst, the Report of the Charity Commissioners in 1866, and Lord Hatherley in 1871—­are open to the charge of discourtesy.  Well, let us remain open to that charge; it does not kill.  If it is not a Charity, what is it?  A place for getting the souls of rich men out of purgatory?  But the souls of rich men no longer in this country have the privilege of being bought out of purgatory.  Then what is it?  A place where seven well-born ladies and gentlemen are provided with excellent houses and comfortable incomes—­for doing what?  Nothing.

Let us, if we must, offer a compromise.  Let the Master, Brothers, and Sisters, now forming the Society of New St. Katherine’s, remain in Regent’s Park.  We will not disturb them.  Let them enjoy their salaries so long as they live.  At their deaths let those who love shams and pretences appoint other Brothers and Sisters who will have all the dignity of the position without the houses or the salaries.  We may even go so far as to provide a chaplain for the service of the chapel, if the good people of the Terraces would like those services to continue.  But as for the rest of the income one cannot choose but ask—­and, if the request be not granted, ask again, and again—­that it be restored to that part of London to which it belongs.  One would not, with the person who communicated with the Commissioners, insult East London by founding a ‘Missionary’ College in its midst unless it be allowed to have branches in Belgravia, Lincoln’s Inn, the Temple, St. John’s Wood, South Kensington, and other parts of West London; we will certainly not ask permission to turn St. George’s-in-the-East into a Collegiate Church with a Dean and Canons, ‘and a sisterhood.’  But one must ask that the pretence and show of keeping up this ugly and useless modern place as the ancient and venerable Hospital be abandoned as soon as possible.  That old Hospital is dead and destroyed; its ecclesiastical existence had been dead long before, its lands and houses and funds remain to be used for the benefit of the living.

Ten thousand pounds a year!  This is a goodly estate.  Think what ten thousand pounds a year might do, well administered!  Think of the terrible and criminal waste in suffering all that money, which belongs to East London, to be given away—­year after year—­in profitless alms to ladies and gentlemen in return for no services rendered or even pretended.  Ten thousand pounds a year would run a magnificent school of industrial education; it would teach thousands of lads and girls how to use their heads and hands; it would be a perennial living stream, changing the thirsty desert into flowery meads and fruitful vineyards; it would save thousands of boys from the dreadful doom—­a thing of these latter days—­of being able to learn no trade; it would dignify thousands, and tens of