The daily morning journal and courier., 1905-07-22

on the plate-glass window: "A sup of tea served with as much care as a glass of Whiskey." An! London was in- deed new-fangled.
 He hied to Waterloo Bridge. That would be unchanged. Yes; the old gray river wound as of old, and in one of the recesses of the bridge the same tramp was knocking the same nail down in the same old boot. There were new and strange buildings on the Mid dlesex bank, but out from the mist. comfortable and comforting sight! still lOOmed the dear, familiar, grimy landmarks. St. Paurs, Somerset House. the Needle, and the fretted stones of Westminster. But what was that flag flying, from the clock tower?
 Refreshed he returned to the Strand. Every second building was a tea and cake shop; at every table sat men and women drinking tea and eating cake. Had London become a city of Recha- bites? Anything was possible in a community that had converted two of its churches into islands. He passed his hand over his brow. Yes, tn, ua.- fic was trundling on either side of St. Clement Danes, and St. Mary-le- Strand.
 After that-bewilderment.
 Gazing at the new Gaiety Theatre, he thought, for the moment, that he was in Florence, and still gazing he walked round the edifice toward brand-new building called the Waldorf Theatre, with flying ornamental figures and the air of having been scrubbed and carried hither from a Paris ex- hibition.
 He stood in wide and imposing crescent, with vast sites on either side, from which more theatres were ris- ing; but parts of the crescent looked like a mouth that has lost few of it's teeth. Where are the slums? he ask ed himself; where is Wych Street and Holywell Street, and the Globe Thea tre?
 He wandered round the crescent to the Strand. but hastily retraced his steps at the sight of a huge motors omnibus labelled Vanguard" Was this Stench of petrol more salubrious than the ancient odors of London's slums? Was this haste and hurry and dust better than the old jog-trot way? the Fields and take the three-horse om- nibus to the top of Haverstock Hill. There would be no hurry on that route. That journey would bring back the old leisurely London to him.
 But he could not find St. Giles-in-the- Fields. There were no landmarks left to help him. After wandering for a quarter of an hour through the desola- ton of vanishing London he asked di- rections of man who was painting the railings surrounding long narrow pit.
 And what is this pit?" he asked. One of the stations of the new shallow tramway between Holborn and the Strand"
 Farther north, in neighborhood that resembled Port Arthur after the siege, he found another sign of, Lon- don's ubiquitous activity. Rising from ] wilderness of narrow streets was palatial building, bright, brisk book ish, labelled The London School of Economics and Political Science in the University of London.' 2 "Whew," said the wanderer. "T can't keep pace with new London.' More inviting than ever was the thought of that. the three-horse omni- bus crawling up Haverstock Hill, 1 through green gardens sweet with pink ! may, lilac, and laburnum trees, lead ing to secluded Hampstead. Happily he did not know that the twopenny tube is already preparing to gerry manderize happy Hampstead. Neither did he know that he was skirting Kings way, that, when completed. still unite North London nagnificently with the South; but when, covered with dust, he debauched Into what was once calI- ed Little Queen Street, he found that l there the great highway was already in possession. New buildings had aris- sen, and ramshackle tenements with. | dingy fronts had awakened from their sleep to discover that they were no | longer lost in back streets, but were 1 standing out plain to all, their dis l Agreements bare to the gaze of Lon- dons new highway.
 l The wanderer crossed the road. saw 1 before him the terminus of the new shallow tramway from Holborn to the precincts of the Savoy, gasped, and leaned against the wall of the new Baptist Church House. ...
 The traffic dazed him. He was |. troubled by Lqndon's new birth. T
 suppose I shall get used to it all," he
 muttered, but just now feel extreme
 ly friendly to that noble lord of past
 day who liked not new-fangled things. London Chronicle.