Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1879-03-28

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creatures as we'll as for His nobler
creation-man.
Lord Mayors Day in London.
Being in London on the 9th of No
vember, of course l went to see the
show,-that is to say, "the Lord May
or's Show" as it is usually called.
Every 9th of November, all the may
ors in England, Scotland and Ireland,
enter upon their Office. The Lord
Mayor of London-by the way, only
the mayors of London, Dublin and
York are called "Lord Mayors in
procession from the Guild Hall in Lon
don to Westminster Hall, there to pre-
sent himself to the Barons of the tx
chequer, who represent the Grown, and
to take certain oaths of office.
This procession il popularity known
as the Lords Mayors Show" In an
cient times-indeed, from time i'm
memorabilia procession consisted of
the military forces of the city, such as
the trained bands, the Guilds of the
various crafts and trades, with their
banners and insignia, and all such per-
sons of consequence and as wished
thus to demonstrate their friendship
to the city. For you must know
that, from old times, the city OF
London was q most independent
and highly-privileged body, very tena-
cious Of its rights, and not seldom ar
raging itself against the Grown.
Long time ago, the Lord Mayors and
their professions used to sweep grand
ly up to Westminster by water in gild-
ed barges, superb as Cleopatra's.
In recent years the procession has,
however, abandoned the picturesque
pageantry of the river passage, and
gone always by land; but it is still an
imposing show. The Lord Layers
term of Office is one year only, though
he is often re elected. Dick Whiting
ton (of the cat story was four times
Lord Mayor. During his mayoralty
the Lord Mayor gives up his own home.
wherever that may be, and resides in
"the Mansion House," an imposing
and stately abode, in the city.
He is almost always q tradesman, as
bankers and the very great merchants
will seldom condescend to take the Of
fee. 1t is an expensive honor to
whomever assumes il, since no salary
attaches to it, and but very insult
ticient allowance is given by the city for
the grand Inequalities which are one of
the burdens of the position.
The aristocyacy and gentry laugh at
the " show" as relic of picturesque
barbarism but notwithstanding this,
it becomes every year more and more
| tnof Tho xxnn111n Lowe rhso
year-1S77 the incoming mayor was
Alderman Owden, retired merchant.
The 9th Of November rose in fog,-that
cold, yellow November fog of London,
of which you have all heard, but which
you can never quite imagine till you
have experienced it. Later on, it set.
tied into teasing, melancholy rain,
that, however, did not interrupt the
procession, but was disheartening to
the crowd.
I surveyed the scene from window
on the route. As the time approached
for the procession to pass, you saw the
crowd thicken.
They gathered from everywhere and
nowhere. They seemed to start up out
OF the very pavement. Girls and
women stood here and there on stools
which they had brought with them, to
escape from the horrible mud and wet
of the London streets.
I saw one elderly matron, who had
climbed on ladder, followed by
troop of dirty children, swarming over
this uncertain support. In the very
centre of the street stood q young
woman, of whom 1 longed to make q
picture. 1t was a subject which would
have suited Hogarth, or that wonderful
Frenchman Millet.
She was young, with pale, sad face,
of that half grayish white that means
poor food, and life without hope or
pleasure. She had with her boy, sew
en- years old, perhaps; her own boy,
evidently, for she kept her arms round
him, and held her ragged shawl fast
about him, and sheltered him from the
rain with all her poor resources.
l don't think she herself cared much
to see, for her face was utterly hope
less, utterly unexpectant; but she
meant that the child should see and
she stood her ground firmly.
The crowd rushed by her, around her,
almost over her; but still she stood for o
long half-hour quite motionless. At last
I looked away for few moments, and
when l looked back, she was gone,
swept away on the black, surging tide
Of base humanity, but by her face and all
the piteous pathos of her attitude, am
haunted still. Yoath's Companion.
NAuTxcAt CATEoHIsM.-Is the wind
blowing free when it is dead (a)head ?
Do sailors go aloft at rafting pace ?
IAN Won 0et bark from a shin,s loo .