itself, and its interferences, often unnecessarily irritating, with the diversions of the people, cannot be doubted. How long the inhabitants of London are going to allow their amusements to be at the mercy of this body, it does not seem easy to say. That they do so allow it at all is a standing wonder.

It may be as well, at the outset, to recall some of the incidents at the Licensing Sessions of last year. We need not now inquire into the wisdom of the London County Council's reasons for refusing to grant liquor licences to the new music-halls, or even to grant music and dancing licences in certain cases. The decision of the Council on these points, unexpected as it was, has, no doubt, occasioned great loss to many of the unfortunate proprietors, who had built their halls at great expense, confidently expecting that they would get the same privileges other people had obtained in former years. This appears to be the penalty of entrusting the control of our amusements to a popular body, which allows itself to be swayed by the particular notions of its more energetic members. No doubt in time the citizens of London will take the trouble to vote at the County Council elections, and we may expect that, as the County Council throws off the exuberance of youth, its decisions will be more in accord with the requirements of modern existence.

But the circumstance which most aroused the public was the refusal of the Council to allow the Sunday concerts at the Queen's Hall to be continued, or rather to be continued in such a manner that they could be a success. These concerts have been a pleasant feature of the metropolis for the last few years. A large number of respectable people have been in the habit of attending them and enjoying the classical music to be heard there. Indeed, they had the hall-mark of respectability-the permission of the County Council itself. This permission was given in 1894 to Mr. Robert Newman, and subsequently some arrangement was made between Mr. Newman and the National Sunday League for the latter to

give the concerts. This arrangement, however, was put an end to, not, as it has been unjustly assumed, because it was "proved that there is money in Sunday music when there is a definite charge for seats," but for quite other reasons. Mr. Newman has signified his willingness to publish his correspondence with the Sunday League, if the League consent, which at present apparently they do not; though this has given the opponents of the Sunday concerts an opportunity, of which they have not been slow to avail themselves, to obscure the issue before the Council. However, Mr. Newman carried on the concerts in the Queen's Hall on Sunday himself, and expended much thought, labour, and expense in bringing them to a state of efficiency. It was admitted by Mr. Newman's opponents that the music given there was of the highest class, and that those who attended the concerts constituted a sober and well-educated audience: that they had given great satisfaction to every one, and had no doubt done in their way a very great deal of good. But it was all of no avail, for suddenly, with hardly a word of warning, the London County Council withdrew their permission, without even giving Mr. Newman such a notice as would in ordinary commercial circles be considered reasonable..

Now what were the grounds of this startling decision? The chief opponents of Mr. Newman before the Council were the Working Men's Lord's Day Rest Association, who stated that their main object was to minimize, as far as they could, the necessity for Sunday labour. They based their opposition on four grounds, viz.: (1) That, the concerts had been held in breach of the regulations against Sunday concerts contained in the licence from the Council. (2) That the public were admitted to those concerts by the payment of money, or by tickets sold for money, and that the performers were also paid. (3) That on September 25, 1898, at a concert held in the Queen's Hall, persons applying for free admission were refused. (4) That the concerts were carried on as a

commercial speculation, and that large profits were made. The main ground of opposition was that the Queen's Hall had been carried on in direct violation of the stipulation contained in the licence that the licensee should not "open the said house or place on the Lord's day, commonly called Sunday."

It is quite clear that this raises the whole question of the Act 21 Geo. III. c. 49, commonly called the Sunday Act. The Council, although apparently they had permitted the concerts to be held for nearly five years, suddenly awakened to the fact that to allow the concerts to continue in their present state would be against the law. It was no matter that that Act had been stated over and over again to be obsolete; that a well-known judge had "pulled its teeth;" that learned Lords Justices of Appeal, humble jurymen, the general public, and even Archbishops had called in chorus for its amendment. There was the law, and the London County Council, in their zeal, rather preferred that Londoners should on Sundays seek their entertainment in the public-house or the street, than in the company of Handel and Beethoven.

It will be interesting to consider the circumstances under which the Act was passed; but before doing so it may be as well to give shortly its effect.

By section I any house or room which is used for public entertainments on Sundays, and to which admission is by payment of money, is considered a disorderly house, and the keeper is to forfeit £200 for every Sunday that it is used, and such keeper is also punishable according to the usual law as to keeping disorderly houses. The conductor or manager of the entertainment is to forfeit £100 for each offence. Every door-keeper or attendant who takes money or sells tickets for an entertainment held on Sunday forfeits £50. Any one who appears to have charge of such a house will be considered the keeper of it, and will be liable to be prosecuted and punished as such, even if not the owner in reality; and when the house in question belongs to several persons, they are

individually liable.

Any person who advertises a public entertainment on Sunday, admission to which is by payment of money, and any person printing or publishing such an advertisement, is liable to forfeit £50 for each offence.

To return to the origin and subsequent history of the Act. In 1781 Dr. Porteus, Bishop of Chester, appeared to have been much exercised about some public debates on religious doctrines which were held on Sundays. One of the subjects discussed was as to the nature of the Trinity, another as to the existence or non-existence of purgatory. The worthy bishop complained that it was easy to conceive "what infinite mischief such debates must do to the younger part of the community, who, being unemployed in the day, would flock to anything of this sort, would look on every doubt and difficulty they heard as an unanswerable argument against religion, and would go home absolute sceptics, if not confirmed unbelievers."

Dr. Porteus evidently did not believe in liberty of discussion. He, however, apparently did not feel sure that Members of Parliament would be as much frightened by his bogey as he himself was, and in order to strengthen his case he brought in another evil. There appeared to be an institution called Carlisle House, where persons "abandoned to all sense of human decency and religion used to meet to drink tea and coffee and walk about."

Probably more went on in Carlisle House than the mere imbibing of those exhilarating liquids, for the bishop was now able to get a Bill brought into the House of Commons by two members for the Universities. From the discussion that ensued in both Houses, Carlisle House was apparently considered but of little importance, and the whole matter turned upon the right to publicly debate religious questions on Sunday. Unfortunately for us, liberty of debate was then only in its infancy, and both Houses were apparently much shocked that any young man should have such a chance

given him on Sunday of going straight to the devil. One indignant member, indeed, even went so far as to advocate that all traffic should cease on Sunday. There were one or two bright exceptions to the general tone of horror. A Mr. Martin, who evidently lived a hundred years before his time, was inclined to think, so he told the House, "that the discussions in question prevented rather than did any mischief, for certainly it was far better that men should exercise their understandings than be guzzling, quarrelling, or gambling in public-houses.". However, members generally evidently did not think so, for notwithstanding the sturdy common-sense arguments of Mr. Martin and one or two others in the Commons, and the lively onslaughts of Lord Abingdon in the Lords, the Bill was passed by very large majorities.

The Act had a far wider effect than no doubt most of the members who voted for it realized. The Solicitor-General who was responsible for the Bill was probably a "dour" man, even more so than Bishop Porteus himself, and was evidently determined that he would improve his opportunity to make the English sabbath an awesome thing. Can we imagine anything more different from Carlisle House than Queen's Hall? from the gatherings of young bloods and women of the demi-monde there, and the correct sober and eminently respectable audience here?

It is, indeed, impossible to believe that Parliament, when it passed the Act, had in its mind anything like high-class concerts or instructive lectures. However this may be, there can be no doubt that the Act has been mainly responsible for the well-known character of the English sabbath.

Events in the past few years have shown that the law on the subject is no longer in accordance with modern ideas. John Stuart Mill sounded its death-knell in his Essay on Liberty, and his words are so apposite that it may be permitted to recall them at length. He says

"Without doubt, abstinence on one day in the week, so far