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but a water company is not perishable. A king's share in
one of these old water companies, that was worth twenty
rounds originally, is thrown on the market about once in
a generation and it makes a mighty stir and exposes a
revelation. A king's share in the new river came on the
market four or five years ago and that twenty pounds
worth sold for a fortune.

The dividends are incredible, and one wouldn't mind it
so much if this surplus went to support the government,
but it hurts when you know it goes to private pockets—
the butcher and the baker—and that it is they that can
lord it over you with their insolent notices and make you
hunt up their debtors for them or pay their debts. Did
you see the proposition the other day that London buy
out the companies for £40,000,000? One million of that
represents plant, no doubt,—represents pipes and reservoir
and water, the other 39 represent "water." They charge
for water not by any rule, but to value the building. A
factory with one hydrant paid on its rental of £200 a year.

Two frowsy men with wheezy voices walking up and
down the center of the street of dwellings wheezing out
sentimental ditties, "Farewell my love, farewell my dear,
farewell my syler (sailor) boy," and the pennies were
thrown to them from the windows—by the sentimental
housemaids? No doubt. Anybody can collect pennies for
anything in London. It seems to be the paradise of the
cheap adventure in music and piety. These two stalwarts
had on seedy clothes and comforters wrapped around
their necks. They looked as if they were on their way to
Harrigan's to represent Thompson Street.

Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of
joy you must have somebody to divide it with.

Nov. 26. We have now been in this house two months,

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