troduce our readers to
various homes--the homes of England, so to speak! But let not our
readers become impatient, while we lead the way to one more home, and
open the door with our secret latch-key.

This home is in some respects peculiar. It is not a poor one, for it is
comfortable and clean. Neither is it a rich one, for there are few
ornaments, and no luxuries about it. Over the fire stoops a comely
young woman, as well as one can judge, at least, from the rather faint
light that enters through a small window facing a brick wall. The wall
is only five feet from the window, and some previous occupant of the
rooms had painted on it a rough landscape, with three very green trees
and a very blue lake, and a swan in the middle thereof, sitting on an
inverted swan which was meant to be his reflection, but somehow seemed
rather more real than himself. The picture is better, perhaps, than the
bricks were, yet it is not enlivening. The only other objects in the
room worth mentioning are, a particularly small book-shelf in a corner;
a cuckoo-clock on the mantel-shelf, an engraved portrait of Queen
Victoria on the wall opposite in a gilt frame, and a portrait of Sir
Robert Peel in a frame of rosewood beside it.

On a little table in the centre of the room are the remains of a repast.
Under the table is a very small child, probably four years of age.
Near the window is another small, but older child--a boy of about six or
seven. He is engaged in fitting on his little head a great black cloth
helmet with a bronze badge, and a peak behind as well as before.

Having nearly extinguished himself with the helmet, the small boy seizes
a very large truncheon, and makes a desperate effort to flourish it.

Close to the comely woman stands a very tall, very handsome, and very
powerful man, who is putting in the uppermost buttons of a
police-constable's uniform.

Behold, reader, the _tableau vivant_ to which we would call your
attention!

"Where d'you go on duty to-day, Giles," asked the comely young woman,
raising her face to that of her husband.

"Oxford Circus," replied the policeman. "It is the first time I've been
put on fixed-point duty. That's the reason I'm able to breakfast with
you and the children, Molly, instead of being off at half-past five in
the morning as usual. I shall be on for a month."

"I'm glad of it, Giles, for it gives the children a chance of seeing
something of you. I wish you'd let me look a