way, as I do now, and to have it thrust at one
as if it was a fault we ought 1o have seen
after before. If you could tell us any plan of
keeping down our poor, we'd be very glad to
follow it. We had much rather the workhouse
wasn't so full, but to build another, or to
increase the amount of out-door relief, would be
just hmting paupers in from other parishes to
be kept and clothed out of our rates. We
consider we do our fair share; we pay far
more in proportion than the parishes where the
line gentlemen live who abuse us, and it ain't
likely that we shall do more for nasty lazy
paupers than we're actually obliged. My great
faith is in the Poor Law Board, for I'm bound
to say it's never been troublesome or worriting,
and that as long as our clerk acknowledged its
letters as received, it hasn't often asked or seen
what we thought of its instructions, or whether
they were obeyed. In our parish, we generally
move that the letter from the Poor Law Board
be acknowledged, or that it lie on the table;
and we find this answer every purpose. They're
very pretty letter-writers, too, and mostly use
plenty of respectful words. When addressing us,
they "only hope we shall agree with them," or
"trust we shall see the propriety of considering,"
or "are inclined to recommend that the
guardians should bestow attention, with a view
of forming an opinion which shall conduce to an
arrangement;" so that it doesn't much matter
whether we agree with them or not. It stands
to reason that we're not really going to be
taught how to manage our own poor by the
people at Whitehall, and, as I once told an
inspector when he was expressing himself
rather too freely about our want of casual
wards, " We don't fancy the Poor Law Board
will last much longer, sir, so we don't trouble
ourselves too much about it." It gives
guardians a proper hold over those government-
office fellows when their places and their
salaries are all temporary, and what they call their
department has to be granted two or three
or perhaps five years' more life by the House
of Commons. That's just what it's been with
the Poor Law Board, and our clerk and me have
often had a quiet laugh at the way the letters
would become flowerier and flowerier as the time
drew near for it to be renewed. They've been
very soft and silky lately, and no wonder. The
Poor Law Board knows as well as I do that it's
dependent upon the guardians, and that the
guardians ain't one bit dependent upon It, and
that if there. was much more of such interference
as we suffered from a short time since,
we'd do away with it altogether. It ain't, for
me to say what the department's for. I didn't
make it; but I know it's not going to put its
nose into matters that don't concern it, and
we don't mean to be lectured or blustered over
for all the paupers in the world. But I don't
want to write anything rude or unkind, for, as
I have been saying, the style of the secretary's
letters, as well as the reports of the new
inspectors, all shows that the Poor Law Board is
coming to its senses again. The Houseless
Poor Act upset it first, and the shameful way
in which the newspapers took up the dirty
tramps as if they was heroes, and in the end
made us take them in, made some of the people
at Whitehall fancy we were to be managed
as if we was children. Let them try it, that's
all. They'll find this child rather a stiff
customer to deal with. I'll promise them. But I've
no dislike to the Poor Law Board as long as it
keeps its place, and, though I don't pretend
to understand its use, and could tell you plenty
of funny stories as to Ihe way it's said one
thing at one time and another at another, still,
so long as it doesn't pretend to authority over
guardians, and will give nice civil pleasant
reports of what it sees, it may go on as long as it
likes, for me.

There never was a better thing than that
speech of Mr. Hardy's, just, after Lord Derby
had said the present treatment of the poor was
disgusting. He was so very bouncible and
confident that he could order about as he liked,
that one would have fancied he'd have set about
it at once, and when I read it to a few of my
fellow-guardians we agreed that we'd caught
a Tartar. But he's been as quiet as a lamb
ever since, and it's plain from what's been said
that the new president's listened to reason, and
knows it wouldn't answer to attack guardians.
We feel quite easy about the whole affair.
There'll be a good deal more loud talk in parliament;
the Lancet people and their hangers-on
will have another public meeting or two; the
newspapers will be full of moral articles and
abuse of guardians; the Poor Law Board will
explain that they'll be very close in their
inquiries for the future; and the matter will
gradually drop, and we shall be let alone. It's
not as if this was the first time there's been
this sort of bother about the same trumpery,
and guardians have only to be firm to upset all
the plottings of the people who are so
determined to bring local self-government into
contempt, that they'd find fault if you were to feed
paupers on sugar-plums, and clothe them in
satins and lace. This ain't France, however,
and we are not going to be bullied out of our
rights because a tew paupers are not as happy
as they'd like to be. Let them work and
support themselves, as all honest people should,
and nobody would object to their being
comfortable as they liked. We've been saddled
with double the number of tramps and
vagrants we used to have before, through
what's called humanity. The end of it will
be, I suppose, that the refuges will shut up,
and the workhouses will have to take everybody
in that chooses to be destitute at night.
I don't care whether the people formerly lying in
the parks and streets are relieved or not. I say
it's a shame that a workhouse should have to
take in idle vagrants, and that they'd better be
handed over to the police. Let the people who
profess so much interest in the houseless poor
look at our casual ward at night, and they'll see
how many young able-bodied fellows are resting
there. Do we enforce the task of work? I