altogether so attractive-looking, that we will lose
no time outside, but get to its interior as soon as
possible.

"What a delightful place!" This is the first
comment which forces its way to one's lips on
entering. It is impossible to say anything else,
when you have got fairly inside and begun to
look about you.

Talk about comfortable-looking bars—what a
bar this is! How large, how light, how richly
provided with good things, with four mighty
percolators full of tea and coffee, kept boiling
hot by convivial gas jets, which irritate the
drinks within to madness, and send them out
when the taps are turned in a state of scalding
fury, wonderfully satisfactory on a winter's
night. Here, too, are hot pies, cold meat,
bread, butter, cheese, pipes, tobacco, all at
the lowest possible price, and of the best
possible quality. What a bar! I declare I
should like to have all these refreshments at
once—a hot pie, a slice of streaky beef, a cup of
coffee, a cup of tea, and a pipe; it is impossible
to say to which you would give the preference.

But, will the consumer of these luxuries have
to partake of them standing at the bar-windows,
as in a public-house? Not a bit of it. Here, on
each side of the bar, and communicating with it,
within actual ear-shot of the hissing percolators,
and nose-shot (if I may be allowed the
expression) of the hot pies—here are two large,
lofty, bright-looking coffee-rooms, with plenty
of tables on which to place these delicacies, and
seats on which to repose while consuming them.

As to amusements, in one of the coffee-
rooms there are three bagatelle-boards—glorious
game, concerning which authorities are of divided
opinion as to whether it is played best with
the eyes closed or open—and German billiards;
while in the other there are conveniences for
chess, draughts, backgammon, and the quieter
occupation of reading the newspapers and
periodicals.

But we have not half done with the list of
amusements yet. If there is one diversion more
calculated to give a man an appetite for his
meat-pie than another, that diversion is to be
found in the game of American bowls.
Connected with the building whose merits we are
considering is a spacious bowling saloon, and
close beside it there are some famous skittle-
alleys, which are well covered, dry, and lighted
with gas in the most brilliant manner. For
daylight amusement there are two fives-courts, which
make your hands tingle merely to look at them.

So much for the attraction on and round
about the ground floor of the building which
we are exploring. We have not done with its
resources yet. Choosing one of two spiral
stone staircases which lead from the ground to
the first floor, we ascend into two spacious and
delightful rooms. One of them is a library,
which will contain some ten thousand volumes;
the other, is a sort of hall, in which concerts,
lectures, private theatricals, or any other kind
of entertainment, can take place. These two
rooms are so well contrived, that for any of
these purposes they can easily be converted into
one, and the space in each added to the other.
Both apartments are light and airy, prettily
decorated and eminently cheerful and gay. The
gas-lights are the prettiest conceivable, being in
the form of five-pointed stars suspended from the
ceiling.

The building which contains all these attractions
communicates on one side with the streets
of Chatham, and on the other with the yard
of the line barracks. For this is no other
than an institute or club exclusively intended
for the use of soldiers, and is intended to withdraw
them from such scenes as that described
at the commencement of this paper.

A subscription of one penny weekly, entitles
the soldier to all the advantages of this delightful
place of recreation.

Here, then, is the rival house of entertainment
—the opposition shop—to that which, we
first considered. This is the true way to look at
it, and this is the way in which the subject has
been considered by those who have been at the
pains to set this rival concern " a-going." Those
who have been busy in this matter have been
engaged in a great and good work, and they
have brought both judgment and common sense
to bear upon their undertaking. It is not
enough to tell men with abundant leisure of
necessity on their hands and nothing with which
to occupy it—it is not enough to tell them to
keep away from the only place of entertainment
they know of—the public-house. When
you tell men to keep out of the tavern, you
doubtless do part of your duty—you give them
advice which is perfectly judicious, and which
they will do well to follow. But you must
do more than this. You must give them some
other house of entertainment to go to, and if
you can show—as you certainly can—that the
attractions which debauchery has to offer, are in
no sort comparable in point of actual enjoyment
to those which virtue can provide, you have
then, indeed, done great service in a Great Cause.
You have snatched a garland from the temple of
vice and laid it on a shrine which we are apt to
decorate with cold and unattractive offerings
only.

And it must be remembered that it is the practice
of vice to decorate her temples ordinarily in
the gayest and most alluring fashion. The Rival,
whose picture we first examined, is not the only
one we have to contend against. In most large
towns, and in London more especially, there are
some houses of entertainment which are on
so bright and splendid a scale that they have
even come to be called by the name of palaces.
With these it is necessary to enter into
competition, and I see no reason whatever why this
Soldiers' Institute—properly managed—should
have any cause to fear the most brilliantly-
lighted gin-palace in Great Britain.

I would end this brief sketch of an excellent
institution with one or two suggestions. In
the first place, then, would it not be better to
call this establishment a Soldiers' Club instead
of a Soldiers' Institute. This last word has a