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OUR LONDON LETTER.

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OUR LONDON LETTER. County Council Number Two is chosen for its career of three years, and in these go-ahead times much of consequence to the world at large may come to pass before the next election. In this business, you see, there is no appeal to the country. But the future will shape itself. The present is our concern, and we begin with a solid fact: The Progressives in the Metro- polis have won a decided victory. The whole of the returns were not to hand till Monday afternoon, but the Sunday papers, poor things as they are, gave us quite enough for judgment. One's prediction that there was little excite- ment amongst the electors was amply substan- tiated by the appearance of the streets all day Saturday. They were very dull on the whole. The carriages of the one side, horses and servants finely decorated with ribbons, were very palpably in evidence the modest shandrydans «nd carts of the other side plodded to the poll. The fashionable display, nevertheless, was in the end set at nought by the tax-cart lot who won the day. Even the extreme men-the Parkinsons, Charringtons, and McDougalls— were returned in triumph. It is, however, well known that amongst the candidates who de- scribed themselves as Progressists, were many pledged to oppose such policy as led to scandals and actions for libel in the last Council. There are no knock-down lessons, that I know of, to be drawn from the election. Very largely the old members were returned. The ground-landlord demonstrations, in which fabulously wealthy men publicly pleaded for a protection of their interests, accounted for the loss of hundreds of votes to the Moderates. The party character of the election was all in favour of the Pro- gressists. But, putting minor considerations aside, this has been a trial of strength between the classes and the masses: that was the general issue, and each party has three years now to explain how the result was brought about. It is a curious commentary upon the way in which people look a gift horse in the mouth to find that Mr. Tate has withdrawn his magnifi- cent offer of a Gallery of British Art, pictures and building all free, gratis, for nothing, because the authorities could not find a suitable place for the building. That is the main reason for the withdrawal, but the donor seems to be a little disappointed at the coldness with which his offer has been received by the public gene- rally. The Philistine, of course, will see in this incident another proof that the honest English- man does not care much about art. Probably he is not fad enough. It is ridiculous to pre- tend that if the country had a will in the matter they would not have insisted upon somebody finding a way. Mr. Tate, it will be remem- bered, suggested, and was promised, as a proper site, the corner of Imperial Institute- road, but this scheme was indirectly opposed by the trustees of the National Gallery and the Science and Art Department of South Ken- sington. Other sites were suggested, but Mr. Tate declined them; and so, he says, the Thames Embankment site being unattainable, and Government having withdrawn the offer made for the Imperial Institute site, and taking into consideration the difficulties, delays, and, in some respects, uncalled-for opposition which his offer has met with, he, with great re- luctance in the interests of British art, definitely withdraws his offer. When one remembers the number of sharp «yes there are eager to find out, and the number of scathing pens there are ready to ex- pose blunders in the Press, it is not a little astonishing that one of the most amusing of journalistic mistakes made for many years has so far apparently escaped attention. It has arisen in connection with this very subject of Mr. Tate's pictures, and appeared in a high class illustrated weekly that was reputed to have brought its proprietors for many years more than a hundred per cent, profit. In anticipa- tion of this gift to the nation a representative of the paper apparently went to Mr. Tate's house at Streatham, with the object of describing the pictures in his galleries. A list of the principal works was given, and under those by Briton Riviere appears Running the Blockade," "Friends in Misfortune," Giants at Play," and "Devilled Pork." The picture which I have italicised is, of course, the famous Academy painting of the swine running down a steep place and perishing in the water, and the title seriously given was the nickname suggested by one of the comic papers at the time of its exhibition in the Academy. In last Saturday's paper one naturally looked to see how this ludicrous blunder was explained away, and it was very neatly done, by the simple statement, without a word of explanation: u The correct title of Mr. Briton Riviere's picture in Mr. Tate's collection, of which we gave a description last week, is The Miracle of the Gadarene Swine. I am told that the artist was extremely angry when he saw this apparent holding him up to public ridicule, but was appeased when an explanation was given to him. The ccal panic was largely produced by alarmist articles in the English Press. Having affrighted us by assurances of coal famine, they discovered that the wisest course would be to take the position calmly. Then, with a sudden turn about, they proceeded to ridicule the 'public for indulging in the funk which they themselves had created. The panic in London, at any rate, has been a very real one. During the bitter days of the first week in March, when the roads were hard with frost and there were always showers of snow gyrating in the air, the roads around King's-cross, St. Pancras, and other coal centres were almost impassable. All kinds of vehicles seem to have been impressed to meet the orders of panic- stricken householders. Not only private in- habitants, but great companies that use coal by the ton, gave such orders as they never gave before in their lives. My own coal merchant told me of people who had never ordered tin more than half a ton at a time, but were now clamouring for two, three, and four tons of coals, in anticipation of a protracted famine. 'This, although the prices were from eight to ten shillings more than they were a fortnight ago tnd than thoy probably will be three weeks enc6, when the inevitable glut in the market comes, and the coiliers will wake up to the assurance that they have been playing into the hands of the owners and middlemen. S.

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