disjointed article that the Emperor of Russia's demand of a free passage for his troops through the Dobrutchka has been withdrawn, but the state of affairs in that division of Bulgaria which is called Eastern Roumelia forms a sad counterpart to that second thought. On this subject a leader has appeared within the last day or two in one of our principal morning papers, describing the refusal of the chief local official established by the Russians at some place in Eastern Roumelia to recognise the authority of our Commissioners acting under the Berlin Treaty, and his appeal to a mob whose violence obliged our Commissioners, together with their Austrian colleague, to retire. This palpable obstruction coinciding with the persecution of Mussulman families owning places of residence in the same province may well be suspected of proceeding from a quarter hostile to the settlement of Turkish affairs according to the decision of the Berlin Plenipotentiaries. In addition to these unpleasant appearances we have still to learn what difficulties may arise out of the Greek claim, and in what manner the dissatisfaction of Montenegro and Albania will be appeased.

As matters now stand, to pursue the subject further would be an idle task. Time has its disclosures as well as its secrets. It has also a movement of its own, and the busiest of inquirers must often take patience for his badge.

STRATFORD DE REDCLIFFE.

RECEIVING STRANGERS.

RICH people with tender hearts have been having a hard time of it lately, in many ways. Never surely before were so many and such harrowing appeals made every day to their feelings on behalf of sufferers of every description. The sufferings of the poor in sickness and old age, our neglected children, pining needlewomen, hard times, strikes, workhouses, crowded alleys, fever-nests, polluted water-supply, small-pox, pauperism, monotony, dreariness, and drink, haunt our thoughts by day, if not our dreams by night. Schemes for alleviations and reforms meet us at every turn; but in our attempts to solace ourselves by giving alms, we are met by innumerable difficulties, and hampered and bewildered by unanswerable admonitions both from within and without, about the danger of pauperising, till some of us scarcely dare offer a cup of beef-tea to a sick neighbour for fear of demoralising him, and offending against the canons of political economy and the organisation of charity. All this is doubtless inevitable, and for our good. The comparative conditions

of rich and poor in London now are not such as we ought to be able to reflect upon with comfort. But how one longs for some outpouring of comfortable, unhesitating, old-fashioned, joyous bounty-not judicious administration of charity, but a good hearty swing of generosity—if only it might be innocently indulged in.

And by degrees, one and another, here and there, are finding out simple, harmless, priceless boons which can be given with an open hand and a glad heart-boons which are twice blessed' in the delight they afford to him that gives and him that takes' such gifts as we should not be ashamed to offer to our most honoured friends. People have lately begun to find out the mutual delight produced by gifts of flowers, of pictures, and other decorations, by gardens and open spaces,' by excursions into the country, by concerts and readings, by any of the little embellishments of life which are such matters of course among the rich that we are scarcely aware of the influence they have on our own lives; and that few of us can guess what is the parching and sickening effect of their utter and prolonged absence. Lately a flash of pleasure lighted up many a private house and many a rich nursery, as well as the bare and cheer

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less infirmaries of our huge pauper schools, when one or two kind hearts and busy brains planned and made known a scheme for collecting not guineas but toys, old as well as new, and brightening the faces of a multitude of poor little sick children with the overflowings of the nursery cupboards and toy-shops of the West End. It is an indescribable relief to know of ways of giving unlimited pleasure without the possibility of doing harm to any one.

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Another such simple but fruitful discovery has been made by a lady, who last summer engaged a little four-roomed cottage close to her own garden-gate in the country, and in it received during the three summer months a succession of children from the crowded parts of London, in batches of six or seven-each batch under the care of some hard-working woman, known to the children's parentseach little party staying a week in the country, on a visit to a friend, like other people,' and returning home loaded with little gift-books, toys, little shawls, flowers, cakes, fruit:' these last being little remembrances from kind neighbours, who, by the hostess's wish, abstained from giving money to the children; the object throughout being to avoid making it a 'charity business,' and preserve the idea of a simple visit. Once a week

...

The new batch left London by as early a train as possible, with return tickets, and were received by the old batch as they landed, and all fourteen walked up the hill together. Then the combined forces had one cheerful dinner together; then the old ones showed the new ones their happy playing grounds, their limits or bounds; and after tea the new ones accompanied the home-going party to the steamer, they travelling home with the morning's return tickets, happy and joyous: the pleasant day they enjoyed together and the looking forward to their homes, be they never so homely, and all they had to tell and to show, making the departure as pleasant as the arrival.

This last device is an instance of one of the simplest and most abundantly fruitful of all possible ways of helping the poor, namely, the exercise of simple hospitality towards them. If this were practised to anything like the extent of our opportunities, it seems to me that it might prove almost a new hemisphere of mutual blessing for rich and poor. Hitherto almost all our philanthropy has been directed, and very naturally, to visiting the poor in their homes, or in institutions provided for them, and for them onlyschools, hospitals, asylums of all sorts. It is only here and there, accidentally as it were, and very occasionally, that we have tried welcoming them into our own homes. But let those who have tried it say how great and how pure is the joy of receiving guests to whom a visit is a balm and a cordial: not a necessary part of the labour of keeping up society, nor yet a mere amusement, but a help which enables them to go forward with renewed strength on the journey of life. Many such guests doubtless are to be found in the host's own social class. The beauty of the idea of hospitality is that it is not

confined to any class. It is a simple act of friendliness which implies nothing but goodwill. But if any one wants to reap a constant, easy, abundant harvest of satisfaction and cheering, let him or her-perhaps it will come most easily to her-keep a spare room for the poor, and a spare 'couvert' at the kitchen table for poor neighbours; and let the servants take their part in making the house such a centre, as every well-appointed house should be, of hospitality and friendly entertainment (in both senses of the word) for rich and poor, old and young, invalids and bright active helpers.

Here is the key of the whole question: let the servants take their part. This is what makes the difficulty in imagination, and the great gain in practice. I know well how impossible it would seem in many a rich house for the mistress and the maids to join together in inviting and entertaining poor friends and acquaintance; what bugbears the mere suggestion conjures up before the mistresses' imagination, of possible consequences and certain shyness. Many mistresses would say, if they spoke out quite honestly-How can we let our servants exercise hospitality, when we don't speak to them ourselves once in a month, except to give necessary orders, and when we don't half trust them, and want all their time for ourselves, and have much ado as it is to keep their friends and followers out of our kitchens?' But is not this state of things in itself a great evil? and would not the very fact of joining in a common effort of hospitality be the best cure for it? Of course, while mistresses are wholly engrossed in the toils of society, and are content to live with their servants as if they were machines, it is useless to draw their attention to the richness of the possibilities they are neglecting. But this is not the case with all mistresses. Many a kind-hearted woman has time to spare, a little space in her house, and a little margin of money and comforts which she would gladly know how to turn to account for the benefit of the poor who live at such an inconvenient distance, and the thought of whose wretched homes weighs upon her spirits, and haunts and upbraids her in her own comfortable abode; to which she yet is bound by the most sacred ties. Such women sigh over the accounts they read of the homes of the London poor,' and half envy those who are free enough from home claims to go and work among them, and send contributions from time to time to charitable undertakings, and wish they could do more. If they did but know it, they might do what no one else can do.

But they cannot do it alone. They cannot do it without the willing, hearty cooperation of their servants. Would this be difficult to obtain? I believe that if the mistresses wished it, nothing would be easier. I believe that we can form but a faint idea of the amount of power and willingness to help which is latent in the vast army of women servants who fill the houses of the comfortable classes. I believe few mistresses know half the little acts of kindness which are done down

stairs-sometimes more or less clandestinely, perhaps not always even quite honestly-but which are the irrepressible signs of an amount of kindly feeling which, if recognised and encouraged and directed by the mistress of the house, might blossom into quite incalculable usefulness. And what hinders this recognition and sharing in each other's efforts? Whence comes the strange distance and deadness which has crept in between the two branches of our households? No doubt it is owing to many causes, but the chief of them seem to me to be want of thought and want of a common object. If mistresses would give as much thought to perfecting their relations with their own servants as many of them now do to benefiting the poor, they might bring about more improvement, and a more spreading selfmultiplying blessing, than any one who has not tried it would dream of.

It is true that in such an undertaking a woman must be prepared to encounter a searching test of her own character. No lady can be a trusted leader in her own house whose own conduct is not thoroughly consistent with her charitable aims. No giving of one's substance to feed the poor will pass muster with the keen observers downstairs as a substitute for the charity which seeketh not her own.' To be a saint to one's lady's-maid, one must be so all day long, and to the backbone. And to employ one's servants and one's house in entertaining the poor, one must of course be content not to be stretching both to the utmost limits of time and space in intercourse with the rich. Would not these conditions be as wholesome for the mistress as for the servants?

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We may be sure that mistresses are not satisfied with the present state of things. Most ladies are weary of lamentations over the degeneracy of servants in these days-over their indifference, their independence, their dress, their demands for days out' and other amusements which mistresses are loth to recognise, and dare not interfere with. It is probable that some corresponding expressions of dissatisfaction may be to be heard in the servants' hall. Without pretending to say what are all the causes of this state of things, or all the remedies required by it, it is at least easy to see that much of it arises from the want of an outlet for very natural feelings; and from the absence of human interest in the routine of household work, when it is as elaborately subdivided as must be the case in large establish

ments.

When one thinks of the immense amount of real fervent benevolence which is being expended by ladies in London upon all sorts of charitable undertakings-of the district visiting, and hospital and school visiting, the rent collecting, and the excursions, and the readings and concerts, the attendance at committees-the canvassing for votes, and the collecting of subscriptions, one cannot believe that there is any want among them either of kindness of heart or of energy;