of them myself
under great difficulties with regard to light--the only difficulty that
money could not always remove. This is a view of my father's house--or
rather one of his houses. It cost seventy-five thousand pounds."

"Very handsome indeed," said Sir Charles, secretly disgusted at being
invited to admire a photograph, such as house agents exhibit, of a
vulgarly designed country house, merely because it had cost seventy-five
thousand pounds. The figures were actually written beneath the picture.

"This is the drawing-room, and this one of the best bedrooms. In the
right-hand corner of the mount you will see a note of the cost of
the furniture, fittings, napery, and so forth. They were of the most
luxurious description."

"Very interesting," said Sir Charles, hardly disguising the irony of the
comment.

"Here is a view--this is the first of my own attempts--of the apartment
of one of the under servants. It is comfortable and spacious, and
solidly furnished."

"So I perceive."

"These are the stables. Are they not handsome?"

"Palatial. Quite palatial."

"There is every luxury that a horse could desire, including plenty of
valets to wait on him. You are noting the figures, I hope. There is the
cost of the building and the expenditure per horse per annum."

"I see."

"Here is the exterior of a house. What do you think of it?"

"It is rather picturesque in its dilapidation."

"Picturesque! Would you like to live in it?"

"No," said Erskine. "I don't see anything very picturesque about it.
What induced you to photograph such a wretched old rookery?"

"Here is a view of the best room in it. Photography gives you a fair
idea of the broken flooring and patched windows, but you must imagine
the dirt and the odor of the place. Some of the stains are weather
stains, others came from smoke and filth. The landlord of the house
holds it from a peer and lets it out in tenements. Three families
occupied that room when I photographed it. You will see by the figures
in the corner that it is more profitable to the landlord than an average
house in Mayfair. Here is the cellar, let to a family for one and
sixpence a week, and considered a bargain. The sun never shines there,
of course. I took it by artificial light. You may add to the rent the
cost of enough bad beer to make the tenant insensible to the filth of
the place. Beer is the chloroform that enables the laborer to endure the
severe operation of living; that i