- The Shooting-Gallery
- House in Stoke Newington in which Edgar Allan Poe Lived
Stoke Newington is connected with the name of Edgar Allan Poe. It was here that he was at school, where he was brought over by the Allans as a child. The house still stands; it is at the corner of Edward’s Lane, which runs out of Church Street. Let us hope that the eccentricities of this wayward poet were not due to the influences of Nonconformist Newington. - Gallo-Roman Sword and Horn
- Toynbee Hall and St. Jude’s Church
- Gallo-Roman Weapons
The Romans, either alarmed by the progress of Hannibal, or becoming aware of the value of such allies as the Spaniards, now sent larger armies to their assistance, headed by their ablest generals. - Costers and Cockneys
“I ’ear as you don’t walk hout with ’Arry Smith any more.” “No, ’e wanted me to meet ’im incandescently, and I wouldn’t do such a thing, so I chucked ’im.” - 'Britain's Sure Shield'
- The East London Mission
- Brother Brushes
First R.A. (who hates to be interrupted in his hobby but is doing his best to be polite).—“Done any work to-day?” Second R.A.—“No, confound it. That stupid ass Brown came to the studio and talked all the afternoon,—couldn’t do a stroke of work. What do you do when some idiot comes and interrupts your work?” First R.A.—“Oh, I go on weeding.” - Dr. Barnardo’s Home, Stepney Causeway
Those who have read Defoe’s “Colonel Jack” will remember the wonderful picture which he presents of the London street boy. That boy has never ceased to live in and about the streets. Sometimes he sleeps in the single room rented by his father, but the livelong day he spends in the streets; he picks up, literally, his food; he picks it up from the coster’s barrow, from the baker’s counter, from the fishmonger’s stall, when nobody is looking. For such boys as these there are Barnardo’s Homes, where waifs and strays to any number are admitted, brought up, trained to a trade, and then sent out to the colonies. Five thousand children are in these homes. The history is very simple. Dr. Barnardo, a young Irish medical student, came to London with the intention of giving up his own profession and becoming a preacher. He began by preaching in the streets; he picked up a child, wandering, homeless and destitute, and took it home to his lodgings; he found another and another, and took them home too. So it began; the children became too many for his own resources; they still kept dropping in; he took a house for them, and let it be known that he wanted support. The rest was easy. He has always received as much support as he wanted, and he has already trained and sent out to the colonies nearly ten thousand children. - Esher Old Church
The reflections conjured up by an inspection of Esher old church are sad indeed, and the details of it not a little horrible to a sensitive person. There is an early nineteenth-century bone-house or above-ground vault attached to the little building, in which have been stored coffins innumerable. The coffins are gone, but many of the bony relics of poor humanity may be seen in the dusty semi-obscurity of an open archway, lying strewn among rakes and shovels. To these, when the present writer was inspecting the place, entered a fox-terrier, emerging presently with the thigh-bone of some rude forefather of the hamlet in his mouth. “Drop it!” said the churchwarden, fetching the dog a blow with his walking-stick. The dog “dropped it” accordingly, and went off, and the churchwarden kicked the bone away. I made some comment, I know not what, and the churchwarden volunteered the information that the village urchins had been used to play with these poor relics. “They’re nearly all gone now,” said he. “They used to break the windows with ’em.” - Costers and Cockneys
“Ow I s’y, look at ’er frills. Got ’erself hup like a bloomin’ ’am bone!” - Brother Brushes
“Do you want a Muddle. Sir.” - Costers and Cockneys
Fat Party (after a war of words).—“If you come down our court to-morrer and bring a bit o’ fat with yer, I’ll bloomin’ well eat yer.” - Costers and Cockneys
“What price this for Margit.” - A Gallo-Roman Woman
- Brass to Sir John D’Abernon
For the happily increasing class of tourists who are interested in archæology, let it be noted here that the chancel of this church contains the earliest monumental brass in the kingdom, the mail-clad effigy of Sir John D’Abernon, dated 1277. Many of his race, before and after his time, lie here. The life-sized engraved figure of this Sir John, besides being the earliest, is also one of the most beautiful. Clad from head to foot in a complete suit of chain mail,his hands clasped in prayer, heraldic shield on one arm, his pennoned lance under the other, and his great two-handed sword hanging from a broad belt outside the surcoat, this is a majestic figure. His feet rest on a writhing lion, playfully represented by the engraver of the brass as biting the lance-shaft. - The Bridge of Hope
“The Bridge of Hope,” a Well-known East End Night Refuge. - The George Hotel, Ruislip
Round about “Riselip,” as its inhabitants call it, they grow hay, cabbages, potatoes, and other useful, if humble, vegetables; and, by dint of great patience and industry, manage to get them up to the London market. It is only at rare intervals that the villagers ever see a railway engine, for Ruislip is far remote from railways, and so the place and people keep their local character.Two or three remarkably quaint inns face the central space round which the old and new cottages are grouped, and the very large church stands modestly behind, its battlemented tower peering over the tumbled roofs and gable-ends with a fine effect, an effect that would be still finer were it not that the miserably poor “restoration” work of the plastered angles, done by that dreadful person, Sir Gilbert Scott, is only too apparent. - Mile End Almshouses
Homes and schools for the boys and girls, hospitals for the adult, there remain the aged. Dotted about all over London there are about a hundred and fifty almshouses; of these about half are situated in and about East London. Not that the people of East London have been more philanthropic in their endowments than those of the west, but, before there was any city of East London, almshouses were planted here on account of the salubrity and freshness of the air and the cheapness of the ground. Some of these have been moved farther afield, their original sites being built over. The People’s Palace, for instance, is built upon the site of the Bancroft almshouses, founded in 1728 for the maintenance and education of one hundred poor. Their original house has gone, but the charity is still maintained. - Costers and Cockneys
“Ere y’are, Lidies’ Tormentors. ‘Two’ n penny!” - Costers and Cockneys
One Easter Monday. ’Arriet (watching the funeral of ’Liza).—“Nice sort of a Bank ’Oliday for ’er, poor dear.” - The New Model Dwellings
- Costers and Cockneys
“Wot’s th’ row up the Court, Bill?” “Bob Smith was kissing my missus, and ’is old woman caught ’im. - Milton’s Cottage, Chalfont St. Giles
Chalfont St. Giles lies down in the valley of the Misbourne, across the high road which runs left and right, and past the Pheasant Inn. It is a place made famous by Milton’s residence here, when he fled London and the Great Plague. The cottage—the “pretty cot,” as he aptly calls it, taken for him by Thomas Ellwood, the Quaker—is still standing, and is the last house on the left-hand side of the long village street. The poet could only have known it to be a “pretty cot” by repute, for he was blind. - Costers and Cockneys
’Arriet.—“Ow! I s’y, look at ’is bloomin’ ’At.” - The New Whitechapel Art Gallery
(The building to the right is a free library.) Some of the people, but not many, go off westward and wander about the halls of the British Museum. I do not know why they go there, because ancient Egypt is to them no more than modern Mexico, and the Etruscan vases are no more interesting than the “Souvenir of Margate,” which costs a penny. But they do go; they roam from room to room with listless indifference, seeing nothing. In the same spirit of curiosity, baffled yet satisfied, they go to the South Kensington Museum and gaze upon its treasures of art; or they go to the National Portrait Gallery, finding in Queen Anne Boleyn a striking likeness to their own Maria, but otherwise not profiting in any discoverable manner by the contents of the gallery. And some of them go to the National Gallery, where there are pictures which tell stories. - A Gallo-Roman
- The Old Lychgate, Penshurst
- A Spanish Flagellant
- Sign of the 'Running Horse'
Why the crowd resorted thus to tipple the horrible compound does not appear: one would rather drink the usual glucose and dilute sulphuric acid of modern times. The pictorial sign of the old house still proudly declares— “When Skelton wore the laurel crown My ale put all the alewives down.” To do that, you would think, it must needs have been both good and cheap. Certainly, if the portrait-sign of Elynor be anything like her, customers did not resort to the “Running Horse” to bask in her smiles, for she is represented as a very plain, not to say ugly, old lady with a predatory nose plentifully studded with warts. - On Margate Sands
The August bank-holiday is a repetition of Whit-Monday, without the freshness of that early summer day. By the end 304of July the foliage of the trees has become dark and heavy; the best of the flowers are over in field as well as garden; the sadness of autumn is beginning. All through the summer, especially on Saturdays and Sundays, the excursion trains are running in all directions, but especially to the seaside; the excursion steamers run to Southend, Walton, Margate, and Ramsgate. For those who stay at home there are the East-End parks, Victoria Park, West Ham Park, Finsbury Park, Clissold Park, Wanstead Park. They are thronged with people strolling or sitting quietly along the walks. All these parks are alike in their main features; they are laid out in walks and avenues planted with trees; they contain broad tracts of green turf; there is an inclosure for cricket; sometimes there is a gymnasium, and there is an ornamental water, generally very pretty, with rustic bridges, swans, and boats let out for hire. Where there is no park, as at Wapping and Poplar by the riverside, there are recreation grounds. In all of them a band of music plays on stated evenings. - Armour of Isabella
- Isabella’s Crown
- The Cid
- Sign of the 'Sir Jeffrey Amherst'
On the other side of the highway, swinging romantically from the branches of a great Scotch fir, is the picture-sign of the house, bearing the legend, “Sir Jeffrey Amherst, Crown Point,” and showing the half-length portrait of a very determined-looking warrior, clad in armour and apparently deep in thought; while in the background is a broad river, across whose swift current boat-loads of soldiers, in the costume of two centuries ago, are being rowed. - Henry IV
- A Spanish Noblewoman of the Fifteenth Century
- A Spanish Merchant, Fifteenth Century
- A Spanish Penitent of the Sixteenth Century
- A Man of Granada
- Count Alvaro Nuñez de Lara
- Don Juan II
- Henry of Castile
- Knight of the Order of St. Iago
- Spanish Nobleman, Fifteenth Century
- Blanche of Castile
- Charles IV
- A Spanish Gentleman, time of Philip II
- Spanish Noblewoman
- Queen Berengaria, Spain
- A Spanish Nobleman of the Fifteenth Century
- Divider - The time of moslem domination
- Queen Isabella
- Isabella
- Crown Point
On the other side of the highway, swinging romantically from the branches of a great Scotch fir, is the picture-sign of the house, bearing the legend, “Sir Jeffrey Amherst, Crown Point,” and showing the half-length portrait of a very determined-looking warrior, clad in armour and apparently deep in thought; while in the background is a broad river, across whose swift current boat-loads of soldiers, in the costume of two centuries ago, are being rowed. - Spanish Cavalier of the Fifteenth Century
- A Spanish King of the Fifteenth Century
- Pedro the Cruel
- Mohammedan Sword and Shield