open for use every evening, and in the other a commencement has been made by opening the schoolroom on Saturday evenings.  For these, newspapers, or reasonable games, are essential, and it is probable (as man is both a hungry and thirsty animal) that if they are to be permanently successful both food and harmless drinks must be obtainable; but whether tea and coffee will be sufficient, or whether some of the various unfermented drinks are required, which are described in a little book called, “A Book of One Hundred Beverages,” I must not now stay to consider.

In England and countries of similar climate, the recreation difficulty is much greater than in more favoured countries, where the climate, in a larger portion of the year, admits of the evening hours being passed in the open air.  Here, for months together, the evenings’ relaxation must needs be within doors, and in many towns there is literally no place of indoor resort but the public-house, and, perhaps, the theatre.

A great aid to temperance will doubtless be given when, under the operation of the Artisans’ Dwelling Act, or other similar legislation, the character of the worst localities of our towns improves.  It is notorious that the narrower the streets, the more crowded the courts, and the worse the houses, the more do gin-palaces flourish, and the more does the population give itself up to the artificial stimulus of fermented liquors.  And the reason is not far to seek, for if there be an absence of all comfort at home; if the house be small, and crowded, and dirty; if the water be bad, and perhaps unsuited for drinking; if there be no bit of garden in which to lounge, and to grow a few things in which interest can be taken; if there be nothing in home to render this agreeable—then, as a matter of course, recourse is had to that neighbouring house where nearly all these conditions are reversed, and dirt, and squalor, and crowding are exchanged for light, and brightness, and space.

I have said that an English climate is less adapted than many others to out-of-doors’ recreations and amusements.  Yet there is, even in England a very considerable portion of the year in which the existence of public parks and recreation grounds would contribute very largely to the promotion of temperance by providing pleasant spots in which to pass the hours unabsorbed by labour.  But, I am sorry to say that our old city of Norwich has sadly degenerated from the time of Pepys, and enjoys an unenviable pre-eminence in the entire absence of these most desirable public spaces within its boundaries.  With the exception of Chapel Field, we have not a single open public space.  There is not a spot where the lads can play at cricket or football, or where their seniors can lounge away an evening hour; while as to a public park, the chance of this appears to grow dimmer and dimmer as the population of the city spreads and increases.  I have ventured on more than one occasion to call attention to the need of such places for Norwich, and I have pointed to Mousehold Heath as a place which should, at all costs, be preserved for the city.  But time passes.  Several available spots for public recreation grounds have, one by one, been absorbed for building purposes, and Mousehold Heath—a space which appears to have been specially provided for the health and salubrity of future Norwich, and whose beauties and capabilities must surely be unappreciated by our citizens—is being gradually devoted to gravel pits, to brick kilns, and—to destruction.  And let it not be supposed that the temperance of a population has no relation to its health and its general welfare.  Beyond the attractions of a fresh and open spot, as a counter attraction to the public-house, the growth of a strong and healthy population tends powerfully in the direction of temperate habits, for the feeble and weakly will naturally seek indoor resorts, whilst the strong and the muscular will equally surely seek the open air.  I wish I could think that Norwich was not suffering from this cause.  But whoever observed the generally puny appearance, the poor physique, and the frequently strumous aspect of many of the children and youth received into our schoolrooms during the late flood, and many of whom came from the most crowded parts of the city, must have been struck with the evidence they afforded of the want that existed for them of light, of air, and of healthy exercise.

Lest I should be thought to be dwelling too long on a subject of little importance, or little bearing upon this night’s proceedings, let me read over to you a list of those places in England (and I am not sure that it is a complete list) which, during the past two or three years, have either had presented to them or have felt it their duty to provide public parks and recreation grounds for the use of the residents:—Reading, Birmingham, Dublin, Wigan, Leicester, Limerick, Lancaster, Heywood, Derby, Wolverhampton, Leeds, Longton, Torquay, Sheffield, Swansea, Newcastle, Exeter, and Falmouth.

The only other aid to temperance, to which I will now allude, is that of public galleries of art and natural history, and so forth.  These are but small aids, but still they are appreciable ones, and I would gladly see such in Norwich.  I do not know how far the disused gaol would be convertible to such public purposes, but it has struck me that the site is an admirable one, and the space ample for the collection in one spot, of an art gallery, museum, free library, popular lecture rooms, and for any other purposes which might properly come under the heading of popular instruction.  The former city gaol has long been used as a public library.  It would be a happy change if the late one could now be devoted, not to the punishment but the prevention of crime; not to the expiation of the results of indulgence in drink, but to the better training of men’s minds, so as to teach them, by instinct and by culture, to avoid the destructive paths of vice and of excess.

I think, sir, I have said enough to show how large is this temperance question, in which we are all, in which, indeed, the whole community, is so greatly interested.  In proof of its recognised importance, we may point to the fact that doctors, physiologists, ministers of religion, peers of the realm, and even a Prime Minister, have raised their voices in opposition to the progress of the crying evil of drunkenness.  Many earnest men have striven, by the influence of their continued advice, and by the example of their personal abstention from intoxicating liquors, to help on the good work; and many others have done so in various indirect ways, and especially by efforts to ameliorate the condition of the people, and provide for them alternative means of harmless and rational occupation or amusement.  These efforts are so persistent and now so general; they are founded upon such complete knowledge, and such recognised necessity, that they cannot fail rapidly to produce good fruit, and I believe they have already produced some good fruit in Norwich.  But as social knowledge ripens, as acquaintance with the means of securing the general well-being increases, so we may hope that the difficulties attending the reformation of evil habits will lessen; and although we may not hope to see established a condition of houses, of streets, of towns, of food and drink, of labour, and of all those conditions which would render human life and surroundings ideally perfect, yet continuous efforts must be made to realise for the community such moral and physical surroundings as shall conduce to their welfare in the highest possible degree.  And to this end, let us be sure that nothing will contribute so much as that soberness and