that is quite evident. The hall may be crowded
and the atmosphere bad; but the crowd and
the atmosphere in the garret at home are worse.
Granted the danger of contagious disease, if
you insist upon it; but there is most danger
where there is most dirt; and the hall at Woolwich
is a paradise compared with the homes
of the babies. Thus, as the proprietor
increases his profits, and the mothers pick up a
little extra money, and the babies are more
comfortable than usual, the only people who
hae anything of which to complain are the
spectators, who really do not get the worth of
their shillings. You are promised a show of
babies, and you behold the babies; but still you
are disappointed by the babies. You know
that you have no cause of complaint against
the proprietor, and yet you feel that you have
been deluded, and you would like to call him a
humbug. This is very irrational, but very
natural. Most persons find it impossible to be
interested in other people's babies.

Among the visitors to the show at Woolwich
the women outnumbered the men, at least three
to one. I asked several women why they had
come to the show? Some said that they wanted
to see " what it was like." Others were
anxious to see how the prize babies compared
with their own particular babies. Questions as
to the result of this comparison, they invariably
replied to by a smile, a simper, and a quick,
triumphant toss of the head which spoke
volumes of satisfaction. After the visitors
relieved the exhibitors by taking care of the
babies for a few moments, a few young men
made themselves conspicuous by setting up as
amateur nurses. Babies, passed from hand to
hand, often made the circuit of the hall before
they were returned to their mothers. The poet
having gloomily suggested, in rather a loud
voice, his fears lest the children should get
mixed, a shout of dissent and reprobation broke
out unanimously. Great excitement was caused
by the appearance of a woman attended by a
police detective. Her baby, whom she
described as " a very fine, large, stout boy," had
been stolen from her lodgings the night
before; and the detective, in his wisdom, had
suggested that it might have been taken by
some speculator with a view to securing a
valuable prize at Woolwich. This was too
clever to be true. The woman examined all
the babies, and declared that her own was not
among them. This incident struck the poet
forcibly. He saw in it, the basis for a
romance that would surpass the best efforts of
the elder Dumas. You had only to suppose
that, by some accident, there happened to be
a baby on exhibition which, without being the
child that was stolen, sufficiently resembled it
to deceive the mother. Then the child would
be claimed; the detective would insist upon
taking it away with him; the real mother
would be overwhelmed. "There! you can
easily work it out for yourself," said the poet.
Thanking him warmly (but insincerely) for
this valuable contribution to literature, I
proceeded to remark the absence of the
fathers of the babies. All the women were
married, two or three, indeed, were widows,
Imt the husbands and fathers who permitted
the exhibition did not make their appearance.
Some men came at night, to help carry the
babies home; but I was informed that these
declared themselves to be brothers or cousins
of the exhibitors. We missed very little,
however, by not being indulged with a sight of
the fathers; for all the women who were
questioned on the subject, asserted that the
babies were the images of their fathers, and.
we could readily enlarge the pictures for
ourselves if we felt inclined. In truth, I
believe that the fathers acted prudently in.
staying away. There was a deal of rough,
chaff flying about during the day, and the
chaffers would have made it very hot for any
father who had offered himself to public
inspection. To do the spectators justice, none of
them approved of the exhibition except by their
presence. None had a good word to say of it.
Some called it "a lark," and some "a rum
go," and "a queer start;" but if any one had.
proposed that the women and the babies should
be sent home forthwith, I don't believe that
one of the spectators would have objected, or
would have demanded his money back.

Sitting over our whitebait in the neat little
hotel attached to the gardens, the poet and I
tried to think of some other exhibition that
should be as absurd and as profitable as the
Baby Show. Finally, we hit upon the exhibition
of married couples, and communicated
our discovery to the waiter, with all the pride
of Columbus. Bless you! the proprietor had
thought of that long ago, and was even then
labouring orer the idea in his mind, trying to
give it some practicable shape. He rather
thought he should hinge it upon something
like the old flitch of bacon business, with
a grand procession, a jury of old maids and
bachelors, and all the ancient paraphernalia.
This was a secret, however, and must not be
let out just yet. A secret it should have
remained, so far as I am concerned but for
the fact that the manager of another garden,
at the west end, has already anticipated the
idea and advertised the married-couples show.
But will any married couples consent to
exhibit themselves for such a purpose? Without
doubt, dozens. The manager will have an
embarrassment of applicants. Do not suppose
that the matter will end with the distribution
of prizes for matrimonial felicity. The mania
for this sort of show will have its day, and
will go much further. There are thousands
of persons ready to run wildly after every
new thing, and to run all the more wildly
if it be suggested that the new thing is rather
improper. Let these people go but once out
of curiosity, and, no matter whether they like
the show or not, the manager is enriched. It
is upon this principle that speculations of the
character of the Woolwich Baby Show, are
undertaken; and the shrewdness of this
managerial judgment of human nature is shown
by the fact that such speculations succeed
where sensible enterprises fail.

The public is to blame for this, and must