The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1878-09-28 00:00:00

Our cifonb•eit Corresponbeitt.

We deem it right to state that we do not at ail V...11eS
-aentily ourselves with our Correspondent's opinionj.j

The beginning of October finds London and the
country generally gradually re-awakening into that
active life which has been to some extent suspended
since the prorogation of Parliament six or seven weeks
before. As the meeting of the British Association
marks the close of one period, so the gathering of the
Social Scientists characterises the beginning of the
other. In the interval between the two Congresses
very little has, as a rule, been done. The present
Prime Minister, some years ago, in addressing a
harvest home
since become historical—"l am not," he said, "up to
politics in September." The phrase conveys a very
definite idea of the dulness of that month, so far as
public affairs are concerned. Statesmen and poll;
ticians, philosophers and scientists—all, in short, who
have been compelled to remain in London during the
whole length of the Parliamentary session, no sooner sees'
• the Legislature rise for the recess, than they also take.
wing. Every social engagement of any importance*
clusters arourd the Parliamentary life of the nation;
hence when that life no longer exists there is a general
collapse and exodus. September glides away, and
those who have been so busy during the session, are
seeking recreation in all directions. Some are inhaling
the health-giving breezes of our own sea-side resorts;
. or are passing the time amid the green islands of the
channel, making their way over rocks, fathoms deep
in ever-heaving and translucent water; or forgetting
the cares of life amongst the wild waves of the
Hebrides, the thundering surges of the Atlantic as
they roll in clouds of spray upon the weather-beaten
shores of Connaught, the fjords of Norway, the lakes
of Italy, the mountains of Switzerland, the battle-fields
of France, and the scenery of the Rhine. But as every-
thing terrestrial, even life itself, must have a termina-
tion, so does the period of physical and mental repose
come to an end, and those with engagements to fulfil
return once more to the discharge of life's duties.
It is at such a time as this that the varied incidents
consequent upon the return of the British tourist may
be seen to perfection at the great London termini.
If you are desirous of beholding the effect of the
bracing air of the Highlands, go to the London and
North-Western station at Euston-square, to the Mid-
land at St. Pancras, or to the Great Northern at
King's-cross. The travellers who have been doing
Ireland at different places between Giant's Causeway
and Cape Clear, also return by way of Euston.
The picturesque West of England sends its holiday-
makers back by way of Paddington or Waterloo;
the continental tourists return either to Ludgate-hill
by the Chatham and Dover line or to Cannon-
street and Charing-cross by the South-Eastern.
Brighton's second self may be witnessed at London
Bridge, while the loungers by the shores of the
German Ocean are deposited by the Great Eastern
either at Bishopegate or Liverpool street. Back they
come bronzed and sunburnt, be face the matter-of-fact
routine of every-day life until another autumn shall
roll round. It is difficult sometimes to bring the mind
down to the level of ordinary duties and to turn it
once more into its accustomed channel. It has been
engaged in quite a different direction, and on the first
day of resuming the usual avocation "the chariot
wheels drive heavily, and the sound of the grinding is
low." You are heartily glad when the first day is
over, for as the recollection will persist in wandering
back to those scenes which are'so freshly graven upon
the tablets of the memory, you cannot help regretting
that they are gone. Gradually, however, the mind
recovers its elasticity; the frame is stronger and the
brain clearer for the rest which both have had; and
life is once more faced with a firm determination to
write whatever may be disagreeable in sand, and its
pleasant reliefs in marble.
The election of Lord Mayor of London on Michael-
mas Day is always an event of much interest in the
city, that is, the municipality between London Bridge
• and Temple Bar. The rule of the chief magistrate
does not extend beyond those boundaries, for the
Vestries still rule over the enormous boroughs which
make up the metropolis. The Lord Mayor is, as a
rule, chosen by rotation, although any alderman who
has served the office of Sheriff is eligible for the post.
The plan usually followed is, however, for the Livery
to return to the Court of Aldermen the two senior
members of that body who have not filled the
mayoralty, and the choice of the Court almost in-
variably falls upon the one who has been longest in
office. Should he be passed over, and the alderman
next in seniority chosen, or should the then Lord
Mayor be re-elected, the one who has thus been
shunted resigns his gown. This, however, does
not often happen, and the departure from the
rotation rule is very exeeptional. The Lord
Mayor, although elected on Michaelmas Day,
is not formally installed in he ncrr dignity until
the 9th of November, when the civic banquet to
her Majesty's Ministers is an occasion of much public
interest. It is almost precisely midway between the
end of one session and the beginning of the next, and
is a most convenient opportunity for the advisers of
the Crown to reply to the numerous criticisms of
their policy which have been uttered during the recess
so far as it has gone.
Of all the European capitals of first-class States,
people hear the least of the city of Berlin. One
attraction of London is its; vast size, for it is a king-
dom in iteelf. Paris has many, and is the resort of
large numbers of well-to-do Americans. Vienna
has a history behind it; Constantinople has a
splendid situation, commanding the Mediterranean
and the Black Seas; St. Petersburg is a marvel
created by the indomitable will of its founder from the
marshes once washed by the Gulf of Finland; Rome
has associations extending back more than 2,000 years,
and recalling some of the mightiest enterprises ever
undertaken by any people. But Berlin, for the
capital of a great Power, has neither size nor beauty,
no proud position nor chequered history. Its river, a
sluggish little river known as the Spree, is not a
pleasure stream like the Seine, or the making of a
ccmmercial port like • the Thames. Yet Berlin is a
city which from its massive solidity seems admirably
to typify the character of the people who have made
it the central of a new empire. Even when it rejoices,
as it does now annually over the capitulation of Sedan,
there is an air of soberness and an absence of efferves-
cent frivolity which admirably pourtray the German
in the emotions of his heart and the spirit of his life.
The people in the High-street, Southwark, find a
cause of much satisfaction in the discontinuance of
Horsemonger-lane Gaol. Under the new Prisons Act
the Home Secretary has the power to close any of these
establishments, the separate existence of which he may
deem unnecessary, and this rule has been applied to a
gloomy fortreis in a main street, from the very name
of which one almost recoils. In the days of public
executions immense multitudes were accustomed to
gather in the neighbourhood of this prison, which is in
the direct line of traffic flowing southward from London
Bridge. When will the citizens of London be enabled
to get rid of .Newgate in a similar way? This great
lowring excrescence in the heart of the City, and one of
the most hideous structures ever raised by the labour
of man, occupies a site of incalculable value. It
casts its forbidding frowns upon the pavement within
a stone's-throw of St. Paul's Cathedral. What a short
distance between the chanting of solemn music and
the sighing of the condemned—between the exposition
of the doctrines of Holy Writ and the carrying out of
the extreme penalty of the law. In no other capital
of civilizati ,n would such a mournfully suggestive
pile deface a valuable central position. When its time
does come, succeeding generations will wonder how in
an age of such artistic magnificence, Newgate on its
present site could have been endured so long.
The friendliness of this country towards France has
materially increased during the past few years, and yet
less than two decades haee passed since there was a
general distrust amongst Englishmen, if not of France,
certainly of its ruler. It is impossible to account
for panics which periodically take possession of a
nation; but there can be no doubt that the
pate of 1859 spread with the rapidity of an epi-
demic. The immediate reason for it seemed to be
the Emperor Napoleon's declaration of war against
Austria, as betraying a restless ambition which
sought excitement in foreign enterprises in order
to feed the French passion for military glory. It suc-
ceeded in 1859, but it proved fatal in 1870. When
France made war upon Prussia in that year, there
were those who saw in that act a menace against our-
selves. Russia had been dealt with in 1854, Austria in
'4
18-59, the turn of Prussia halt now come then, and next
- that of England, the only other Great Power which in
a 1815 had combined to overthrow the first Napoleon.
Yet this feeling did not prevent us from heartily
•
symp a thising with France a few months later, when.
the tide of battle turned against ; while the eon_
b:e tributions of British industry to tne Paris Exhibition
prove that the jealousy and rivalry of former genera-
tions, have now happily passed away, never, it is
hoped to return.
Save in some exceptional districts, London on
Sun
day morning is remarkable contrast to London on
Saturday night. Saturday is still the pay day a the
week in many trades and handicrafts, and es a result
the out-door markets in the evening are crowded with
working men and their wives, making their purchases
for the ensuing week. The flaming lights, the clamour
of voices, the invitations to the investment in goods of
all descriptions, the wail of the mendicant, the grind-
ing of peripatetic organs, the wild melodies of sable
serenaders, the coarse jokes of itinerant auctioneers,
and not uncommonly the Pointless jest of an inebriate,
make up a tnost diacordane medley. As the night
wears on, the crowds disperse, the sounds gradually die

has I

away, the lights are extinguished, and the motley multi-
tude dissolves amid the throng which pours forth from
the licensed houses with the last stroke of twelve.

Once round the clock, and what a change! The bells
have summoned tens of thousands of worshippers to
their respective temples, the Babel of noises in the
Bohemian markets has given way to the chanting of
the Venite and the Jubilate Deo, and not even the
screaming of the railway whistle is heard in the streets
of the metropolis, for between eleven o'clock and one
the traffic on the underground and suburban lines is
suspended. It is the quiet time in the whole seven
days—a period when, even in busy London the solemn
associations of the day are recognized—a day described
by one of our poets as—
"A prelude of a feast that cannot cloy—
One of the bright out-courts of immortal glory."