In the year 1882 the most popular novelist of his day wrote as follows about the East End of London- Two millions of people, or thereabouts, live in the East End of London. That seems a good-sized population for an utterly unknown town. They have no institutions of their own to speak of, no public buildings of any importance, no municipality, no gentry, no carriages, no soldiers, no picture-galleries, no theatres, no opera,-they have nothing. It is the fashion to believe they are all paupers, which is a foolish and mischievous belief, as we shall presently see.
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