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MARY JANE'S TRAVELS.

WITH DICKEY UNDER HER ARM SHE GOES ALL ABOUT LONDON.

Their Pilgrimage is Somewhat Out of the Ususal Line - They are More of the Modern Portion of the City Than the Ancient, and Mary Jane Tells About It.

[Special Correspondence.]

LONDON, June 18.- "Dickey," said I this morning as we started out, "have you got any pennies?"

"Nary a penny," said she, offbandedly. "What do you want with it? Where's your letter of credit?"

"Don't be so assualted, please," said I; "I've got to fee a lot of people today, and I want the money in small doses."

"You want it in a feeable amounts, as it were," said she, punning as usual.

"I want it," said I, sharply, "and that's enough."

"Oh." said she, sarcastically, "if that's enough, why do you ask for any more?"

We jowered a while longer, and then I compromised by taking all her pennies, and went out, Dickey remarking as she sat down on the top of the bus:

"They say the typical Englishman is only found in the bigger cirlces, and perhaps he is, but the typical American is found all over England, wherever there is a British subject touching his hat and waiting for something he hasn't earned."

The fee system, or rather fee sentiment, in England, I think, does more to degrade the lower classes than any other one thing this side of the remnant of feudalism in royalty. Men who, ismiliarly situated in America, would knock a man down for offering them a tip, take it gladly here, and do it with a servility that is painful to our independent ideas. We have the system in America, it is true, but there the recipient receives it with a certain air of right, which makes one feel that the laborer is worthy of his hire, while in England they fawn and crings and bow and touch their hats till you want to take a club and break a head or two. I don't know how high up they are foudn, but I know when I went to the queen's stables at Buckingham palace the liveried slave in the office told me I could not get in until I got a ticket, and I could only get that by writing a letter to the master of the horse. I started off back to my quarters to do that, whom be sidled around and told me it was against the rules, but he thought he could find me a ticket. I put up a shilling, and he went to the desk and fixed me in a few moments. The shilling cost more than an envelope and stamp, but it was more immediate in its effect. The policemen will also take anything ("except prisoner," suggested Dickey, looking over my shoulder) you offer, and they don't appear to feel any the less manly for it. Lots of waiters at hotels and restaurants get their pay that way, and it is so even in private houses. It is told that the Duke of Argyle, who is not rich (except in a long line of useless ancestry) wanted to employ a butler, and would not agree to pay the man more than half wages, because, as he told him, he had very many guests, and the butler always had his tips from. Many hotel and restaurant waiters pay the proprietors for the privilege of bleeding their guests, and the head porter of one of the best London hotels is reported as paying $2,000 a year for his place, besides a percent of a finer pair of horses to the landlord. A Pullman car porter, in comparison with this oriental magnificence, becomes but little better than a tramp. The whole business is legalized begary, pure and simple, and is a direct outgrowth of feudal aristocracty. But enough of this on paper. Come to England if you want to see what a terrible nuisance it is.

I met a woman the other day who made me feel good all over. She was not very pretty, and she wasn't very young, but she had sand in her craw, and I was glad of it. She happened to fall into a general conversation in a car, the subject being English women. I had said something about the meek look of submission so perceptible in their faces, and Dickey seconded my motion.

"I don t qure understand," said the lady.

"Why," said I, "all English women seem to hold men as superior beings. They defer to them in all things: they wait on them and for them: they coddle them and smile for them, and bear all sorts of burdens for them: they sit with folded hands, content to be disposed of as many suit the fancy of lordly man, and they make me tired. American women are not that way at all. They may not have the right to vote and make laws, but they make the men do a good deal of the submission business and keep things pretty evenly balanced."

"You are quite correct about the English women," she said, with a Susan B. Anthony snap to her voice, "but they will not be so always. They are beginning to appriciate woman's true position, and the time will come when English wimen will show to English men that Englishmen will have to go away from England to play the deity."

She went ahead at this rate for some time, and, though I didn't find out who she was, I have hopes the his leaven will leaven the whole lump and a female Magna Charta will some day be filed among the British archives.

In a line with this: I went over to the house of commons one day, thinking, of course, I could go in on the usual permit of the speaker, but, lo and behold, they stuck me in with the rest of the women in a nasty little dark cubby hold, with a wire screen shutting it off from the chamber, becuase, forsooth, women are not allowed in the sacred precincts of that legislative today. I peeped through those wires for about a minute, and feeling that the whole crowd was a lot of monkeys in a cage I left the place thoroughly disgusted.

London is not a city of parks, as Paris is, but it has many, and one may walk through several miled of shaded avenues from a point almost at Trafalgar square, throught the Mall, Green park, St. James and Hyde park to Kensington. Regent's park to Primrose hill is another stretch, but Hyde park is the limtum spot, and there the swells go to drive and die and walk, and there "a cat may look at a king" and "a dog may bay the moon," or words to that effect. Rotten row, famous in fashionable circles, is the road where they ride, and in the season it is full of men, women, and groomse on horseback. It is a mile or so in length, a hundred feet wide and is three or four inches deep in dirt, so the horses will have good, soft hoofing. The last riders usually are the grooms, next are the ladies, and lastle the men.

"Why do they call it Rotten row?" said Dickey, as we sat watching the riders one morning.

"It was the favorite place of Charles II," said I, "and was called Route en Rol (Rob King's road), whcih later became corrupted into Rotten row."

"Ugh!" said she with a shrug of disgust, "just like and Englishman. When a thing is corrupted it is rotten, so he calles the corruption of Route en Rol. 'Rotten row.' Well, it may be expressive, but he might have made it more euphoric by calling it '[word?] Avenue,' 'Putrescent Path,' or something like that, with a Bostonian twang to it."

Everybody, from Mrs. Wales down, finds Hyde Park plenty good enough, and they all get out there in pleasant weather. One usual feature about the park is, that a chair company has the privlege of putting chairs all allong the walks, and make the unsuspecting stranger pay a penny, or keep walking like a sentinel on duty.

There is a history connected with Hyde Park, which the reader may find in mose guide books, or for sale at news stands.

Speaking of news stands reminds me that London is virutally without a Sunday newspaper, and if some enterprising American with money to lose, until he can teach the peope more advances ideas, will invest it in that sort of property he will be rich before he dies, if he isn't too old when by begins.

I talked with my landlady about hired girls, and I find that a hired girl is a hired girl pretty much wherever you find her. The reliable ones can always find work with good pay, but they are not all reliable, though the average in England is bigger than elsewhere. One very pretty one I know gets $45 a year and found, but she doesn't do the cooking. I don't believe out American style of all around hired girl prevails in England. The girls usually call themselves "slaves," and they are very respectful, and their manners are good. Ten to twelve pounds a year and found is considered very food pay, and some I talked to about coming to America did not seem flattered by the inducements I held out. As a rule they know very little besides their business and their home gossip. One of my lodgings, not more than a mile from St. Paul's, saw a picture of the cathedral which I had bought, and she not only did not recognize it, but had never heard of it until I told her. She said she had only lived in London a few years and was not acquanited all over. In the same house they burned manufactured gas in the grates, as we use the natual variety in America, and not being posted, I asked the house girl where it came from.

"Out of the meter, miss," said she, and that was all she did say.

Buffal Bill is the biggest man in Engalnd at the present writing, and the boys on the street chase him around just as they do in America. He is also the companion of the high and might, and, if I am a judge of faces, B. B. is as square a man as the best of them. The queen, the prince, and all the fmaily have been out to see the Wild West show, and they have publicly expressed thier appreciation of it. This business of the queen and prince going to shows, opening exhibitions, etc., etc., has given the Radical papers a fine change to make sarcastic remarks with reference to the royal family as excellent advertising mediums. They are quite riht, too, I thik, and after I had read, day after day, of the queen opening this thing, the prince that, the princess the other, and another prince or princess something else, I cam to the conclusion that the toyal family should be called the national corkscrew, and hung up in a public place easy of access and no charge for corkage.

Dickey reminds me at this point that it is time to give the people a rest and go out with her to buy a pair of gloves. Gloves are so cheap in London woy wany yo buy a pair every day just because they are cheap.

"Have you written up any of the sights?" said she.

"A good many," saud I.

"The tower, museums, palaces, bridges, and all that?" said she.

"Not one," said I.

"Why not?" said she, in surprise.

"They are guide book sights," said I, "and I am not in the guide book line."

"Oh!" said she, turning up and already somewhat retrouses nasal organ; "you want to e considered a great original, do you? Well, go on; I am seeing it all as we go along, and I don't want to read you letters."

"You don't have to," said I, and quit.

MARY JANE.