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Heely' s liibpapy of Choice liitepatafe 
 
 . __ 
 
 Campaigns 
 
 OF 
 
 Curiosity 
 
 Journalistic Adventures of an 
 American Girl in London 
 
 BY 
 
 Elizab eth L. Baft] 
 
 F. Tennyson Neely 
 
 Publisher 
 Chicago New York 
 
 's Librnrv ftf (IllftlVp Tiiforatiirp ' No. 38. Dec. 18M. Issued monthly. $6.00 a year. Entered at 
 a LlUldlV VI VIHMIC LI Midline , chwnfrn Post Offino as Spp.nn/i-f!lflss lVTatter 
 
 I Chicago Post Office as Second-Class Matter. 
 
••• 
 
 NEELY'S 
 
 INTERNATIONAL 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 IN UNIFORM CLOTH BINDING, 
 $1.25 EHCH. 
 
 LOURDES— Zola. 
 
 AT MARKET VALUE— Grant Allen. 
 
 Author of "The Duchess of Powysland," "This Mortal 
 Coil," "Blood Royal," "The Scallywag," Etc. 
 
 RACHEL DENE— Robert Buchanan. 
 
 Author of "The Shadow of the Sword," "God and the 
 Man," Etc. 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE KING— Alien. 
 THE ONE TOO MANY— E. Lynn Linton. 
 
 Author of "Patricia Kimball," " The Atonement of Learn 
 Dundas," "Through the Long Night," Etc. 
 
 A MONK OF CRUTA— E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE— J. A. Steuart. 
 
 Author of " Kilgroom," " Letters to Living Authors," Etc. 
 
 THE GATES OF DAWN— Fergus Hume. 
 
 Author of " Mystery of a Handsome Cah," "Miss Mephis- 
 topheles," Etc. 
 
 IN STRANGE COMPANY-Guy Boothby. 
 
 Author of "On the Wallaby." 
 
 For Sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent postpaid 
 on receipt of price by the Publisher. 
 
 TENNYSON NEELY, 
 CHICAGO. 
 
CAMPAIGNS OF CURIOSITY 
 
ELIZABETH L. BANKS. 
 
 {From a Photograph by the London Stereoscopic Company.) 
 
Campaigns of Curiosity 
 
 
 t\ 
 
 JOURNALISTIC ADVENTURES OF AN 
 AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 
 
 BY 
 
 Elizabeth L. Banks 
 
 tfc*\l*°^ 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, 
 Chicago. Publisher: 
 
 1894. 
 
 New York. 
 
v 
 
 h 
 
 
 T«E LIBRARY 
 WASHllTOTOwi 
 
 Copyright, 1895 
 
 BY 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY. 
 
 ^4// rights reserved. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 IN CAP AND Ar Ron- 
 chapter 
 
 I. " Liberty " and ' 
 
 Independence" 
 Seeking a Situation 
 "Elizabeth Barrows," Housemaid 
 Rough Places "Smoothed Over" 
 Without a " Character " . 
 Parlourmaid to Mrs. Brownlow 
 My Last Days in Service . 
 
 II. 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. The Merits of Domestic Service 
 
 THE "ALMIGHTY DOLLAR" IN LONDON SOCIETY 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. Advertising for a Chaperon 
 
 II. Offers of Marriage 
 
 III. What it would Cost . 
 
 IV. Interesting Antecedents 
 
 THE PRICE OF A PEDIGREE 
 SWEEPING A CROSSING . 
 A DAY WITH THE FLOWER-GIRLS 
 AMONG THE LAUNDRY-GIRLS— 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. Why and How I Became One of Them 
 
 II. At Work in a "Sanitary Laundry" 
 
 III. A Contest with Flat-Irons 
 
 IV. The Day of My Resignation 
 V. "Soap-suds Island" and the East-End 
 
 PAGB 
 
 ix 
 
 I 
 9 
 
 21 
 
 33 
 
 45 
 59 
 
 72 
 
 84 
 
 97 
 101 
 
 106 
 in 
 
 "5 
 
 129 
 
 139 
 
 '53 
 165 
 
 '75 
 [86 
 [96 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Portrait of the Authoress • • • • Frontispiece 
 
 Headpiece • . . . x 
 
 Initial i 
 
 *' No Fringe allowed ! " . •••••• 17 
 
 "Elizabeth Barrows," Housemaid . . . . 25 
 
 My System of Scrubbing 56 
 
 " The Contents came whizzing up in my Face " . .69 
 "There on the step stood Mr. James BRowNLOw ,, . 78 
 "He wished to Marry a Lady of Wealth" . . .103 
 "My Costume was not quite Orthodox" • • .134 
 
 "I felt Meek and Lowly" 145 
 
 "A Dozen Girls and Women were Ironing". • . 166 
 
 Janie . 168 
 
 "Lizzie Barnes," Laundry-girl. . . • • . 180 
 "Carn't yer see we've got a young laidy with us" . 200 
 Tailpiece • • 1 •••••• 208 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 When, a little over a year ago, I arrived in Lon- 
 don with a star-spangled banner in my pocket, I 
 had no intention of remaining long enough to make 
 any extensive experiments in the line of the " newer 
 journalism." I had only "taken a run" over to 
 England to visit Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's, 
 and the Tower, expecting then to return home and 
 write up my "impressions" of London and Lon- 
 doners. 
 
 " Don't forget that you are an American, and are 
 going to England simply to compare the inferiorities 
 of that country with the superiorities of your own." 
 This was the parting injunction of a certain American 
 editor when I left New York. 
 
 For some time after my arrival I not only never 
 forgot that I was an American, but I took particular 
 pains that nobody else should forget it. I waved the 
 Stars and Stripes en every possible occasion, and 
 sighed for an opportunity to defend my country. It 
 was not long in coming, for I had been in London 
 but a little over two weeks when Mr. Rudyard Kip- 
 ling's criticisms of America appeared in the Times. 
 My patriotic outburst, which I headed " An American 
 Girl's Reply to Mr. Kipling," was printed in the same 
 paper a few days later, and Uncle Sam sent me his 
 congratulations across the water. That was the be- 
 ginning of my journalistic career in London — a career 
 that has not been without its pleasures as well as 
 some very hard work. 
 
x Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 At the end of a few months I began to like 
 London so well that I decided to stop longer, in 
 order to study something more than the " inferiori- 
 ties " that my patriotic American co-worker had 
 bidden me seek, so I hung up my flag in the hall 
 where it might be seen without being too obtrusive, 
 and turned my attention to active work. 
 
 When I wrote my " In Cap and Apron " expe- 
 ritnces for the Weekly Sun, I determined to say 
 nothing about my nationality, and in correcting the 
 proofs I thought I divested the narrative of all obvious 
 Americanisms. But, alas ! it was the " wash-bowls " 
 and " pitchers " that betrayed me. 
 
 " Does not Miss Banks know how to use proper 
 English, that she says 'bowl' instead of basin, and 
 * pitcher' instead of jug?" wrote an irate matron to 
 one of the papers, and the Editor of the Weekly Sun 
 was severely criticised for allowing "vulgar Ameri- 
 can" to appear in its columns. Another lady 
 declared that I must be a person of strangely car- 
 nivorous tastes to demand a meat breakfast, which 
 led to a letter from someone else, who gave it as her 
 opinion that I must have come from America, a land 
 where the inhabitants breakfasted off chops and 
 steaks and buckwheat cakes. Many epistles came to 
 me personally : some from ladies who seemed to be 
 under the impression that I had come to London to 
 set up the servants against the mistresses, and I was 
 requested to return to America before I raised an 
 insurrection. 
 
 On the other hand, the servants looked upon 
 me as a sort of Moses II., come to deliver them 
 out of the hand of their oppressors, and the con- 
 
Preface. X1 
 
 gratulatory letters that some of them sent me were 
 rather amusing. After I finished my description of 
 my life at Mrs. Allison's, and began to write con- 
 cerning my experiences at Mrs. Brownlow's — I need 
 hardly say that I have not given the real names or 
 addresses of these people in any case — everybody 
 turned round about face. The mistresses concluded 
 that I was not half bad, after all ; while the servants 
 abused me because I advised them that it was wrong 
 " to break and not tell." One housemaid, in her 
 rage, wrote that she had intended suggesting that I be 
 made an officer of the Domestic Servants' Protective 
 League, but now I would be denied that honour, as 
 every " proper servant " in London was my enemy. 
 
 During the time that I was relating my experi- 
 ences as housemaid and parlourmaid, Mrs. Allison 
 and Mrs. Brownlow received condolences from many 
 quarters, though it appeared to me that the sym- 
 pathy was wasted ; for neither of them were such 
 objects for public pity as some people seemed to 
 imagine. Mrs. Allison, in particular, was looked 
 upon as a deeply-injured woman, a sort of martyr, 
 "butchered," as one writer expressed it, "to make a 
 journalistic holiday." So far as I have been able to 
 discover, no serious consequences attended my house- 
 maiding exploit at Mrs. Allison's. To be sure, the 
 scrubbing was woefully neglected during my regime, 
 but otherwise the housemaid's duties were not so 
 badly performed. 
 
 To those who understand how small the world 
 really is, it will not appear strange that Mrs. Allison 
 and I should have mutual acquaintances. Quite 
 recently a friend invited me to accompany her to a 
 
xii Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Sunday " at home," where, I was assured, I would be 
 welcomed by a charming hostess and meet most 
 agreeable people. The house to which she would 
 have taken me was that of Mrs. Allison, of Portman 
 Square ! On hearing the name, I suddenly remem- 
 bered that I was " writing against time," and the 
 printers were waiting for copy. I have several times 
 met my former mistress and her daughters on the 
 street, and at the theatre we have often been near 
 neighbours ; but my change of costume proved a 
 good disguise, and I doubt if they would know me 
 unless I appeared to them in the garb of cap and apron. 
 
 The Brownlows forgave me for the deception I 
 had practised upon them, and then went to America, 
 to recuperate their fortunes, which, Mr. Brownlow 
 said, had suffered considerably through the mistakes 
 of the Cleveland Administration. 
 
 The criticism which my " In Cap and Apron " 
 articles excited was mild when compared with that 
 called out by the appearance in the St. James's Gazette 
 of " The Almighty Dollar in London Society " series. 
 Not even yet am I able to understand how I merited it. 
 I have felt somewhat in the position of the unlucky 
 cat which suffered drowning at the hands of the cruel 
 Johnnie Green, although, according to the nursery 
 rhyme — « 
 
 "It never did him any harm, 
 But caught the mice in his father's barn." 
 
 When I acted the part of an American heiress, I not 
 only exposed the methods by which certain English 
 aristocrats sold their social influence, but I held up 
 to ridicule the shoddiness of some of my own country- 
 people, who are well known on two sides of the 
 
Preface. xiii 
 
 Atlantic. In explaining that Lady chaperoned 
 
 Miss Porkolis for a particular sum of money, I did 
 not attempt to excuse the young Chicagoan for her 
 part in the transaction ; for, surely, the purchaser of 
 social distinction is not a whit better than the person 
 who turns it into a marketable commodity. Further- 
 more, I have not put forward Lady as being a 
 
 typical specimen of all those who move in high 
 society, any more than I have portrayed the repre- 
 sentative American girl in Miss Porkolis. My object 
 was but to show that the confidence Americans are 
 accused of having in the purchasing power of " the 
 almighty dollar" has not been altogether misplaced. 
 I have noticed that the Colonial papers, especially 
 those of Australia, have looked upon my American 
 heiress campaign in the light of a huge joke played 
 upon the aristocracy. A New Zealand Editor, in 
 commenting upon the letters I received in answer to 
 my advertisement for a chaperon, sighs for a peep 
 into my desk, which, he thinks, must be brimful of 
 interesting material that has not yet appeared in 
 print. So far as those letters are concerned, I could 
 safely hand him over the key ; for, aside from what 
 is now in print, nothing of that interesting corre- 
 spondence remains with me. Those who requested 
 the return of their letters received them, and the rest 
 were long ago consigned to the flames. 
 
 As regards the chapter in which I describe my 
 search for a pedigree, it is but another instance of 
 what dollars and sovereigns will do. I do not, how- 
 ever, hold up these would-be aristocrats as typical 
 Americans. In the great hustle and bustle of our 
 American life, dead and gone ancestors play no part. 
 
xiv Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 So thoroughly do we believe in ourselves that self- 
 confidence might almost be said to amount to self- 
 sufficiency. We demand of a man not who his father 
 was, but what he is himself. Yet, among over sixty 
 millions of people, there must necessarily be a few 
 snobs by way of variety, and that their money allows 
 them to come to London to purchase the social pre- 
 cedence that is denied them at home, and a line of 
 ancestors made to order, is a misfortune to America 
 and England alike. 
 
 To the Editor of the English Illustrated Magazine 
 I am indebted for the privilege of republishing the 
 two articles which recount my experiences as a 
 flower-girl and a crossing-sweeper. They do not 
 take up any very serious social or moral problems, 
 and so need not be further referred to here. 
 
 My trial at laundry work was the most difficult 
 task I have yet attempted, and that I lived through 
 it, and long enough to put the adventure into print, 
 is a fact that still causes me to wonder. The 
 relation of my experiences, coming at a time when 
 the question of shorter hours and more perfect sanita- 
 tion for laundries has been brought before Parliament 
 by the Home Secretary, I hope may not be without 
 the effect of calling attention to a class of working 
 girls who stand in great need of a helping hand from 
 the better classes. 
 
 If my exploits have done nothing more than to 
 give many of my journalistic co-workers topics for 
 some exceedingly clever and humorous " copy," 
 they have not been altogether wasted. From the 
 land of prose into the realm of poesy, Mr. Walter 
 Besant wandered to tell the readers of the Queen 
 
Preface. xv 
 
 something concerning the ambitions of " The Lady 
 Housemaid." Mr. George R. Sims has given to the 
 manufacturers of American furniture a valuable 
 advertisement by describing for his " Refereaders " 
 the wonderful transformations that took place in the 
 star-spangled drawing-room where he called to inter- 
 view me concerning the remarkable feats I performed 
 as a parlourmaid, besides finding a plot for one of 
 his ever-entertaining " dramas of the day." " The 
 Coming of Elizabeth " has been graphically portrayed 
 in the columns of Judy by a writer who, despite my 
 effort to " calculate, reckon and guess " as to his 
 identity, is yet unknown to me by name. Punch, in 
 a page devoted to the doings of " The Irrepressible 
 She," has hinted to its readers what they have soon to 
 dread, if the progressive " lady journalist " is allowed 
 to pursue the uneven tenor of her way. The Daily 
 News, in a witty review of my " In Cap and Apron " 
 series, complimented me on my journalistic prowess, 
 but deplored my inability to sew on a button and my 
 general lack of feminine accomplishments. "Auto- 
 lycus," in the Pall Mall Gazette, gallantly defended 
 me from the attack of an enemy in the Weekly 
 Sun, who, in proclaiming the opinion that I had 
 never been in service at all, gave me credit for 
 such imaginative faculties as would bring me a fortune 
 and spare me much labour, time, and expense. In 
 the Lady's Pictorial, " Mary Jane " covered herself 
 with ink and glory by her smart sketches in which 
 she depicted her ambitious attempt to leave off house- 
 work and " learn all about jernalism in two days." I 
 prophesy for "Mary Jane" a brilliant future as a 
 combined critic and sketch artist. 
 
xvi Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Numerous other weekly and daily journals have 
 instructed and entertained their readers at my expense. 
 The Press of my native land has also smiled ap- 
 provingly upon me, and sent me invitations to return 
 to the scenes of my early journalistic endeavours. 
 
 I have been impressed by the kindly feeling that 
 the women journalists of London have shown towards 
 me and the interest they have exhibited in my work. 
 Especially is this true of the members of the Pioneer 
 and Writers' Clubs. Coming here a stranger from 
 over the sea, I was warned in the beginning by a 
 cynical " gentleman journalist " that I would be looked 
 upon as an interloper ; but this has been far from the 
 case, and among my co-workers in London I count 
 many friends. 
 
 From the Editors of the various London papers, 
 also, I have received the most courteous consideration 
 and friendly advice, although, to be sure, some of 
 them have smilingly referred to my adventures as 
 " escapades " which they have appeared to consider a 
 sort of journalistic sowing of wild oats. 
 
 Finally I wish to make my acknowledgments to 
 the advertising columns of the daily papers. They 
 have rendered me valuable assistance, without which 
 these "Campaigns of Curiosity" could never have 
 been written. 
 
 E. L. B. 
 
jfeL^^oai© 
 
 CAMPAIGNS OF CURIOSITY. 
 
 IN CAP AND APRON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "LIBERTY" AND " INDEPENDENCE.* 
 
 TITCH! stitch! stitch!" I 
 stood in the doorway of 
 a fifth-floor back-room in 
 a Camberwell lodging- 
 house, listening to a modern 
 edition of " The Song of 
 the Shirt," sung to the 
 accompaniment of the sew- 
 ing-machine. The scenery 
 was similar to that painted 
 by Thomas Hood half a 
 
2 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 century ago. The woman and the unwomanly rags, 
 the crust of bread, the table, the straw, and the broken 
 chair, all were there. The singer of the song sat at 
 the machine, her head bent over the work which her 
 hands were guiding, while her feet pushed the treadle 
 up and down. I looked on until my brain grew 
 weary with the monotony of her movements and the 
 grating noise of the unlubricated wheel. 
 
 " How much do you earn a day at that work ?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Eighteenpence, Miss," was the answer. 
 
 " And you pay for your lodging, food and clothes, 
 all with that eighteenpence ? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss." 
 
 " But is there no other work you can do — nothing 
 that is less wearing on body and brain ? " 
 
 "Nothing, Miss. Some other girls that write a 
 good hand get work in the City at £i a week, and 
 some that are quick at figures earn almost as much 
 in the shops ; but I can only sew. I bought my 
 machine on time, and it's not paid for yet. Excuse 
 me, but I must be on with my work." 
 
 Stitch 1 stitch ! stitch ! The noise commenced 
 again. 
 
 " Stop ! " I cried. " I have it. I will help you. 
 Can you do housework ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, Miss, I suppose so," she answered, 
 with wondering eyes. 
 
 " Then fix yourself up a little and come with me. 
 I will give you a place as housemaid in my home. 
 What you don't know, you will soon learn. You 
 shall have a nice clean bedroom, with plenty to eat, 
 print dresses in the morning, black stuff in the after- 
 
In Cap and Apron. 3 
 
 noon, with white caps and aprons, and collars and 
 cuffs. I will buy them for you as we go along. We 
 will pay you £16 a year to commence. Come, why 
 don't you get your things on ? We will settle up 
 the back rent and return the sewing-machine to the 
 instalment people." 
 
 The girl had risen from her chair and, to my 
 astonishment, confronted me angrily, her cheeks 
 aflame and her eyes blazing. 
 
 "Did you come only to insult me ?" she demanded, 
 stamping her feet. " I go out to service ! I wear 
 caps and aprons, those badges of slavery ! No, 
 thank you. I prefer to keep my liberty and be 
 independent." 
 
 What was she talking about? Her liberty, her 
 independence ? I was bewildered, and could scarcely 
 believe my ears. I had been so interested in this girl, 
 and for the past two months had vainly tried to think of 
 a plan whereby I could help her. I knew she was 
 poor and proud, and would not take a penny from 
 me unless she felt she had earned it. I had finally 
 decided to give her a comfortable situation in my 
 own home, and this was the way she received my 
 suggestion. She had deemed my offer an insult. 
 So this was the outcome of my maiden effort in the 
 missionary line! She had asked for bread, and I, 
 according to her way of thinking, had proffered her a 
 stone. Disconsolate and disappointed, I left her, 
 and in my bitterness was half resolved to steel my 
 heart for ever against the woes of my own sex, and 
 never again venture outside the legitimate paths of 
 journalism. 
 
 However, my cynical resolution was not carried 
 B 2 
 
4 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 out, for the following day I was seized with a 
 womanly curiosity to learn something more about 
 this wonderful "liberty" the sewing girl seemed to 
 value so highly ; and, with that in view, I passed con- 
 siderable time among the working women of London, 
 trying to gain a clue to the meaning of their war- 
 cry, " Independence." Everywhere I heard that 
 word. It sounded above the clickety-clack of the 
 type-writer while the fingers flew over the keys ; the 
 noisily-turning factory-wheels failed to drown it ; I 
 heard it over the clink of the barmaid's glasses ; it 
 mingled with the ring of the telephone-bell, the whirr 
 of the cash-machine, and the refrain of the chorus-girl. 
 The telegraph-operator murmured the word as she 
 took down the letters of the various messages, the 
 schoolmistress whispered it as she gave out the 
 morrow's lesson in arithmetic, the female book- 
 keeper uttered it while she added up the long column 
 of figures. Even the little sub-editress, earning a 
 salary of £ I a week for stealing copy from the daily 
 journals, seemed imbued with that so-called " spirit 
 of independence." " Give me my liberty and inde- 
 pendence ! " That was the burden of their song. 
 Some of them belonged to " The Independent 
 Young Ladies' League," some to a "Liberty Club," 
 others to "The Society for Promoting the Equality 
 of Classes," and the rest were members of various 
 societies and orders with similar names, while all 
 prated of liberty and freedom like Young America 
 just let loose. 
 
 Their ideas seemed to be vague and wandering, 
 and the majority of them were hardly able to give a 
 proper definition of the word they used so glibly. 
 
In Cap and Apron. 5 
 
 They were not a cheerful lot of girls by any means. 
 Indeed, their solitary happiness was apparently in the 
 belief that they were independent. Some of them 
 were what are generally termed " ladies by birth," 
 others were ladies by education. Each individual 
 girl rejoiced in the appellation " young lady," whether 
 she were a visiting governess or a clerk in a tobacco 
 shop. They worked early and late at their profes- 
 sions and trades, and their salaries varied from 6s. 
 to 30s. a week. They supported themselves, and 
 often had several younger brothers and sisters de- 
 pendent upon them. Week after week, month after 
 month, and year after year, they had toiled with little 
 advancement or encouragement Most of them 
 belonged to the commonplace order, neither clever 
 nor stupid, only ordinary, everyday young women, 
 working for their living. 
 
 Many were hungry, some were badly clothed, few 
 had comfortable beds or clean lodgings. A number 
 of them had porridge for breakfast and watercress for 
 supper, with no midday meal. One young woman 
 assured me that boiled rice was her perpetual diet, 
 and that, while it was filling, it became tiresome in 
 the long run. But, despite these numerous incon- 
 veniences, they were all "independent" girls, every 
 one of them. Several times I broached the subject 
 of domestic service as a possible release from their 
 troubles, but they laughed me to scorn and flaunted 
 the flag of liberty in my face. What ! go to service ? 
 Not they ! Why, they could only have one night off 
 each week, and no followers. Besides, who could 
 wear caps and aprons without despising herself ? 
 
 I began to wonder if there really could be any- 
 
6 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 thing terrible connected with domestic service which 
 should make these poor girls so shrink from it. For 
 myself, I knew little or nothing about housework, 
 but the belief that there was nothing incompatible 
 between gentility and domestic work had always been 
 a hobby of mine. Why could not a refined English 
 girl wash dishes, make beds, and roast a leg of 
 mutton just as well as a member of the lower classes ? 
 Wherein would she demean herself by doing this 
 work and receiving wages for the same ? 
 
 But there were the caps and aprons. Could an 
 educated girl wear them without diminishing her 
 self-respect ? Why was not a housemaid's cap just 
 as respectable as that worn by a " lady nurse" ? For 
 my own part, I had always insisted that no Paris 
 milliner could manufacture any headgear more 
 becoming to the majority of women than the white 
 ruffled cap of the domestic servant employed by 
 members of the upper classes. A pretty maid, to my 
 mind, was much prettier with a cap than without one, 
 while the face of an ugly girl was also improved by it. 
 But these " slavery badges," I was told, were not the 
 only bugbears of the servant-girl. 
 
 I had a curiosity to find out just what these trials 
 were, and to discover why this service was looked 
 upon with so much contumely. As a mistress, how- 
 ever kind and considerate I might be, it was im- 
 possible for me to get a perfect understanding of the 
 inner working of the household machinery. There 
 was only one way to get at the root of the matter, 
 and that was to go out to service myself. 
 
 I arrived at this decision one morning in the 
 latter part of August, and I no sooner decided than I 
 
In Cap and Apron. 7 
 
 began to make preparations for my campaign. I 
 first purchased some goods for a print dress, which I 
 had made up in the prevailing style for housemaids, 
 together with a black serge gown for afternoon wear. 
 Then I bought three linen aprons for morning, and 
 as many fine muslin ones for dress-up occasions. 
 They were prettily trimmed with embroidery, and 
 the ruffled epaulettes were a joy to behold. Cuffs and 
 collars and caps with long streamers completed my 
 outfit. Then I hired a room in Camberwell for 2s. 6d. 
 a week, where I might have letters addressed, and 
 arrangements were made with a titled friend to give 
 me a reference as to respectability and honesty. 
 
 Until all these details were settled, I gave little 
 thought as to how I should get the situation I desired, 
 nor the difficulties I should be likely to encounter. I 
 had a nineteenth-century woman's confidence in my 
 ability to accomplish whatever I should set out to do, 
 and the remembrance of my first and only attempt 
 at sweeping a floor (which left me with blistered 
 hands) did not in the least daunt my spirit. I should 
 never have been tempted to call myself a domestic- 
 ated woman, and my experiences in household duties, 
 so far as the actual work might be concerned, was 
 very limited ; yet I prided myself upon my abilities 
 in the "knowing how" line. If I had never washed 
 dishes, I knew how they ought to be done ; and I 
 was thoroughly convinced that dish-washing, sweep- 
 ing, dusting, making beds, and "turning out" rooms, 
 could be reduced — or, rather, elevated— to a science. 
 I felt sure that in all kinds of work there were hard 
 methods and easy ones. By going out to service I 
 should discover which was which, and then I should 
 
& Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 be able to write a series of articles on " Housework 
 Made Easy," thus benefiting womankind in general 
 and servant-girls in particular. 
 
 In order to inform myself as to just where my 
 valuable services were required, I picked up the 
 morning paper and looked among the " Situations 
 Vacant." 
 
 WANTED. — Housemaid where Parlourmaid 
 is kept ; must be neat, of good appearance, tall, 
 and thoroughly capable, with at least twelve months' 
 character. 
 
 It was evident that I would not suit that adver- 
 tiser, for I was not tall, neither was I possessed of a 
 twelve-months' character. I proceeded down the 
 column, and to my utter dismay I found that length 
 of body, as well as length of character, was considered 
 indispensable in a housemaid or parlourmaid. There 
 were several places open to " generals," but most of 
 them were required to look after the babies, besides 
 doing the other work, and I felt unequal to the task. 
 Cooks were in great demand, but they also must 
 needs have long characters. 
 
 Still, I did not lose heart, but bearing in mind the 
 motto of the Americans, " Trust in the Lord and 
 advertise," I wrote out an advertisement and took it 
 to a newspaper office in Fleet Street. As I handed 
 it to the receiving clerk, I observed that a puzzled 
 look overspread his features. My notice was appar- 
 ently something of a novelty to him, for, after re- 
 reading it, he took it across the room to another clerk, 
 who, when he had read it, smiled, and said, " It's all 
 right. Put it in." The next morning— August 23rd 
 
In Cap and Apron. g 
 
 — there appeared in the columns of "Situations 
 Wanted" the following: — 
 
 AS Housemaid, Parlourmaid, or House- 
 Parlourmaid. — A refined and educated young 
 woman, obliged to earn her living, and unable to find 
 other employment, wants situation as above. Expects 
 only such treatment as is given to servants. Will wear 
 caps and aprons, but would not wish to share bed with 
 another. Thoroughly reliable and competent. Refer- 
 ences ; town or country. Wages, ^14. — Address — ». 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SEEKING A SITUATION. 
 
 The day after my advertisement appeared I received 
 159 letters and postcards in reply. This was en- 
 couraging, for it proved conclusively that the demand 
 for good servants was much greater than the supply, 
 and also that there could not be any firmly-rooted 
 objection to educated domestic help. Several of the 
 writers wanted " lady-helps " and assured me that I 
 should have nothing to do in the way of " menial 
 service." A Southampton lady required a thoroughly 
 educated young person for children, and said she had 
 been advertising for a lady nurse. But it was not 
 my object to go out as a lady-help, or a nurse. 
 I wished a situation as an ordinary servant. 
 One inquisitive person demanded to know my 
 age, height, position in life, my father's business, if 
 my mother was a gentlewoman, and whether I was a 
 Churchwoman or a Dissenter — most of which in- 
 formation seemed to me not at all relevant to the 
 subject in hand. An old lady of seventy wanted 
 
io Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 someone nice and quiet, with a restful appearance, 
 for a parlourmaid, because she had rheumatism so 
 badly and would like her knees rubbed. A lodging- 
 house keeper was in need of a young woman who 
 would study her interest, and answer board and 
 residence advertisements in the papers. One of the 
 latter class wrote : 
 
 " Seeing your advertisement in the morning paper, 
 wanting a home and friendship of a friend, I want a 
 young person to assist me in the up-stairs duties of a 
 first-class lodging-house, to look after and see and 
 do all that is necessary, and take entire care and 
 responsibility of the same. You would have to wear 
 caps and aprons of course, when anyone was in the 
 house, but not otherwise ; and I would do anything 
 for your comfort if only you would study me. I 
 have a young daughter of my own, but she prefers 
 to go to business, and will not work in the house, 
 and I want you to take her place." 
 
 All this was very flattering, and showed the esteem 
 in which the lady held me ; but I felt that the entire 
 care and responsibility of a lodging-house, besides 
 the duty of being a daughter to anybody, would be 
 too great a weight on my shoulders. 
 
 Another writer assured me that I should find her 
 a considerate mistress, and said that she had always 
 been told that she spoiled her maids by considering 
 them too much, which, she began to think, was true. 
 Many offered higher wages than those I had asked 
 for, and a few thought my terms too high, on account 
 of my probable inexperience. A young matron at 
 Clapham Common was sure I should suit her. I 
 would have the house-work to do and must mind a 
 
Tn Cap and Apron. ii 
 
 five-months' baby. If I was a nice person, I would be 
 happy in the situation. She could not give over £\2. 
 The number of women with babies to mind seemed 
 very numerous. The wife of a colonel wished to know 
 if I would do the pocket-handkerchiefs and stockings 
 each week for herself and three daughters, besides 
 attending to the known duties of a house-parlourmaid. 
 Somehow, I was convinced that this was more than I 
 ought to undertake. Mrs. Black, of Hyde Park Gate, 
 required a housemaid who must be a good dress- 
 maker. She requested my photo with full particulars. 
 No agent need apply. Windows and a little washing 
 to be done. (Did Mrs. Black forget that there is a 
 law against allowing women-servants to wash win- 
 dows ?) Mrs. Smith, living near Oxford Circus, 
 wanted a trustworthy, reliable, clean girl to do the 
 work of a private house. She had a domesticated 
 daughter, three sons and a husband, and would want 
 the washing done at home. Wages £\o, or £\2 with 
 no beer. Just where the clothes would be dried after 
 the washing was done at home was a source of con- 
 jecture in my mind, and I doubted my ability to put 
 a proper gloss on the shirt-fronts of the three sons 
 and the husband. 
 
 Kind and thoughtful letters were numerous. Mrs 
 Burns, living in a flat near Portland Place, wrote that 
 she desired a house-parlourmaid who, in conjunction 
 with the cook, would do the work of the flat. I 
 could have a separate bedroom, and she would do 
 everything in her power to make me feel that I was 
 not without friends and home. A very nice letter 
 came from Thames Ditton, which ended by saying 
 " If you think my situation at all what you are 
 
12 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 seeking, will you give me some references ? and, as I 
 am a stranger to you, I will send references in re- 
 turn." This was the only instance in which the 
 employer spoke of giving references, although I was 
 always required to furnish them. Just why a " char- 
 acter" should be demanded on one side only is 
 beyond my comprehension. Why should not the 
 give-and-take plan be followed in such cases ? Is not 
 a mistress likely to prove as unmanageable as a 
 servant ? 
 
 An enterprising City man wrote that he was 
 looking out for a young lady who would invest 
 capital to build up a toy trade in a neighbourhood 
 where there was no opposition. He would be pleased 
 to hear if I was disposed to come to terms. Then I 
 opened a letter couched in this language : — 
 
 Dear Miss, — Seeing your advertisement, I am moved to write and 
 say that I admire your pluck and am glad to know there is at least one 
 young woman with sense enough to see that there is no disgrace in 
 domestic labour. I would like to marry a girl like you, if you are not 
 too old or ugly, which I do not believe you are. Please state age, 
 complexion, height, temperament, and personal appearance, and tell 
 me if you would accept for a husband an honest mechanic, aged 28, 
 and earning £200 a year. If so, give me your address, and I will 
 come and see you with all honourable intentions. It is much better 
 for a girl like you to be married and have a protector than to be a 
 housemaid. 
 
 In my opinion, the writer of that epistle is a prize 
 in the matrimonial market, and I should be glad 
 to give his name and address to any young woman 
 who can answer his requirements and thinks she 
 would be able to appreciate the situation. 
 
 There were several replies from bachelors and 
 widowers wanting " companion-working-lady-house- 
 
In Cap and Apron. 13 
 
 keepers." They all assured me that there was very 
 little work to be done. Mr. Alexander Macfarlane, 
 of Glasgow, wished for particulars in regard to age, 
 experience, and qualifications for his situation as 
 house-parlourmaid. He stated that he was a single 
 gentleman, whose establishment consisted of cook- 
 housekeeper, kitchenmaid, and house-parlourmaid — 
 all English. Each servant had a separate room. He 
 desired to know if I had any experience in valeting, 
 if I understood lamps, and how my knowledge of 
 silver-cleaning and waiting at table had been gained. 
 I must give particulars as to last two situations, and 
 reasons for leaving them. What allowance would I 
 require in addition to wages for finding myself in beer, 
 tea, sugar, and washing? He requested my photo- 
 graph, which he would return at once, and, if appear- 
 ance and qualifications were satisfactory, he would 
 arrange for an interview. 
 
 In spite of Mr. Macfarlane's insinuation that I 
 might need an extra allowance for beer-money, I 
 conceived the greatest admiration for him, because 
 he was the only man who took me at my word, and 
 offered me a place as a regular servant. In reply, I 
 wrote him some particulars, stating that I was a tee- 
 totaller, had never been out to service, and could only 
 give reference as regarded my respectability and 
 honesty, but felt competent to undertake the work 
 he mentioned, including the valeting. His answer 
 was straightforward. He feared that a young woman 
 of my bringing up and education would not find it 
 pleasant to work in his house under the supervision 
 of a cook-housekeeper. It would be better for me to 
 go in a small family where there was a lady at the 
 
14 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 head of the household. If he heard of any place he 
 thought suitable for me, he would write immediately, 
 as he felt interested in me and desired to help me. 
 
 Would that there were more Alexander Macfarlanes 
 in the world ! 
 
 About half the letters contained stamps for reply, 
 and I conscientiously wrote to every person who en- 
 closed a stamp. The story I told of my circum- 
 stances was a simple one and as near the truth as 
 I thought politic to make it. I was an orphan and 
 almost alone in London, well educated, but my edu- 
 cation was such as did not fit me for anything in 
 particular. I could not obtain employment in the 
 City, as I did not write a good hand, and, not under- 
 standing the languages or music, found it difficult to 
 get a position as governess. Nothing was left me 
 but domestic work, which I understood perfectly. I 
 thought it no disgrace to be in service, and had deter- 
 mined to get a place as housemaid or parlourmaid, 
 asking no favours and desiring only wages for services 
 rendered. I gave the Camberwell address, and signed 
 my letters Elizabeth Barrows. In some cases I re- 
 ceived no answers, but about fifty appointments were 
 made for me to call in various parts of London. Mrs. 
 Clifford-Morris, who was spending a few weeks in 
 Brighton, asked me to call on her husband, a solicitor, 
 in Chancery Lane, who could then give her particulars 
 in regard to me. She thought she could employ me 
 as useful help in her flat when she returned home. In 
 her several letters she addressed me as "My dear 
 Miss Barrows," and the sympathetic, delicate manner 
 in which she treated me quite won my heart. I did 
 not call on Mr. Clifford-Morris, as I felt that to enter 
 
In Cap and Apron. 15 
 
 the service of his wife, knowing that I should remain 
 only a short time, might put her to inconvenience 
 in her household arrangements for the winter and 
 be but small return for her kindness to me. Yet 
 I determined to try to find her such a person as she 
 wanted, and I still hope that I may be able to send 
 her someone who would appreciate the home she 
 has to offer. 
 
 On the morning of Friday, September I, I started 
 out in answer to some of the appointments made 
 for that day. My first call was on a Miss Martin, 
 who was at the head of what she described as a 
 " high-class private hotel " in Mayfair. The man- 
 servant who admitted me, asked me into the drawing- 
 room, but, realising that henceforth I could no longer 
 lay claim to the title of "young lady," but must 
 consider myself only in the light of a "young person," 
 I thought perhaps it would be better for me to remain 
 in the hall, so I sat down on the hat-rack in orthodox 
 servant-girl fashion, and tried to compose myself for 
 the interview. Miss Martin, a pleasant-faced spinster 
 of about forty, soon made her appearance, and asked 
 me up to the drawing-room. She led me to a win- 
 dow, looked me over, and then shook her head, kindly 
 but firmly. 
 
 " My dear, you are too little ! " was her first 
 exclamation. 
 
 " But I am strong, neat, willing, respectable, &c." 
 I insisted. "Please do not despise me because I am 
 small.'* 
 
 Miss Martin still looked doubtful ; then she com- 
 menced to tell me of all the work a housemaid would 
 be expected to do, and afterwards showed me through 
 
16 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 the house, with a view of discouraging me. I felt 
 that I must say something to convince her of my 
 capabilities, so I ventured to suggest that I could 
 dust the chairs in a much better way than they 
 had been done, and explained to her a new and 
 improved method of making beds. I also informed 
 her that I was able to remove the numerous candle- 
 grease spots with which the carpets were sprinkled, 
 by the application of brown paper and a hot flat-iron 
 to the injured parts. Miss Martin's face began to 
 light up, and I could see I was making an impression. 
 I went on and discussed learnedly the proper way to 
 polish looking-glasses and shine the tiled fireplaces, 
 while her enthusiasm increased. When I was leaving 
 I gave her the name of my reference, and she pro- 
 mised to write me her decision. What was my 
 disappointment that evening to receive a letter saying 
 she had not written to the reference as she could not 
 help thinking I was too small and delicate to do the 
 work ! It seemed that, as soon as my inspiring 
 presence had vanished, she remembered only my 
 diminutive stature. 
 
 From Mayfair I went to Grosvenor Square, and 
 met a most formidable-looking lady of the house. 
 She did not ask me to sit down, but commenced at 
 once to read me off a list of the duties to be performed 
 by the parlourmaid, when, suddenly giving me a very 
 scrutinising look, she advanced towards me, and lifting 
 her hand warningly, ejaculated, " No fringe allowed !" 
 I sprang back, and instinctively put my hand to my 
 forehead as a protection, fearing she might brandish 
 a pair of scissors before me and barber me then and 
 there. What ! put back my fringe I I had entirely 
 
In Cap and Apron. 
 
 17 
 
 overlooked the fact that many servants were not 
 allowed to wear a fringe. 
 
 " I couldn't part with it, ma'am," I answered in 
 humble and trembling accents. Then I made a 
 frightened retreat, and walked in the direction of 
 
 NO FRINGE ALLOWED ! " 
 
 Regent's Park. No fringe, indeed ! Was it possible 
 that one of my own sex could be so cruel as to wish 
 to deprive me of my halo ? Besides, my caps were 
 not becoming without a fringe. Liberty ! Indepen- 
 dence ! I began more fully to understand the meaning 
 of the words, and I wondered if, after all, I should 
 not end by joining " The Independent Young Ladies' 
 League." 
 
 I rang the bell of a large house in Marylebone 
 Road, and was admitted to the presence of Mrs. 
 C 
 
1 8 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 Green, who had wired me to call that morning. She 
 was an elderly woman, tall and stately, with a kind 
 face which quite reassured me. She asked me to sit 
 down and then to stand up. 
 
 " I am afraid you will not do. You are so short 
 You see, a parlourmaid must have long arms in 
 order to reach things on the table, and a housemaid 
 should also be tall ; else how can she put the linen 
 away on the top shelves and wash the looking-glasses 
 in the drawing-room ? Why do you not try to 
 get a place as nurserymaid or governess to small 
 children ? " 
 
 I did not feel at liberty to say just why I did 
 not do this. I only said that I knew so little about 
 children that I was afraid to undertake so great a 
 responsibility. 
 
 "Well," said she, "you would not suit for my 
 house — the work is too hard for you — yet I must try 
 to help you. It is so sad for a girl to be alone in 
 this great city. I was just eating my luncheon. 
 Will you have a nice chop and cup of tea ? In the 
 meantime I will see what I can do for you." 
 
 I was not hungry, but I went with her to the 
 dining-room while she finished her meal, and answered 
 as truthfully as I could the questions she put con- 
 cerning myself. 
 
 " Can you sew ? " she asked. 
 
 My thoughts turned involuntarily to the many 
 times I had tried to learn the art of needlework, 
 which had resulted only in pricked fingers and a 
 bad temper. Once I remembered to have been able 
 to get through a little patchwork. Dared I say that 
 I could sew ? Then I answered, " Yes, ma'am, a 
 
In Cap and Apron. 19 
 
 little," inwardly praying that she might never dis- 
 cover how very little that " little " was. She went to 
 her desk, wrote a note, and handed it to me sealed. 
 " This is a letter to a friend of mine in South Ken- 
 sington, a lady who keeps a high-class employment 
 agency. Go to her this afternoon, and she may be 
 able to get you more congenial work than that of an 
 ordinary servant. Take the Underground. Here is 
 your fare." 
 
 To my horror she slipped a half-crown piece into 
 my hand. I protested that I had a little money, and 
 could not think of taking it, but she insisted, and I 
 felt I could not refuse it without exciting her sus- 
 picion. " Good-bye. Write me how you get along. 
 I shall always be interested in you," and with a 
 motherly pat on the head she dismissed me. I 
 wandered along Marylebone Road with the letter 
 and the money, feeling like a culprit. Might I not 
 be arrested on the charge of obtaining money under 
 false pretences? Would the excuse that I was a 
 journalist, doing evil that good might come, protect 
 me from the law ? The coin almost burned a hole 
 into my glove. Just then a woman, grinding a small 
 organ, passed me, and I thrust the money into her 
 hand and rushed away before she could overwhelm 
 me with thanks. I broke the seal of the letter, and 
 read : — 
 
 Dear Mrs. , — The bearer interests me. Her case seems a 
 
 sad one. Can you advise her how to get work ? I know you won't 
 mind the trouble of doing anyone a kindness. She seems so forlorn, 
 alone in a large city. 
 
 God forbid that I should ever grow pessimistic, 
 and think womankind cold and heartless, when such 
 C 2 
 
20 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 women as Mrs. Green live in the world ! Surely, 
 future generations of working girls will rise up to call 
 her blessed ! 
 
 I spent a week in my search for a situation. 
 Among the people I met, a Thackeray or a Dickens 
 would have found abundant material for many 
 characters in many books. I called on bachelors, 
 widowers and widows, ladies of title, members of 
 the upper and middle classes, actresses, literary 
 women, and boarding-house keepers. They all 
 agreed that it was the proper thing for educated girls 
 to go out to service, and that a great change must be 
 brought about in the class of domestics to be em- 
 ployed. However, the majority of them found some 
 objection to giving me a trial. A woman on Cam- 
 bridge Terrace offered me a place as parlourmaid in 
 a house where twenty lodgers were taken, and I 
 would have accepted it but for the fear that at the 
 end of the week's trial she was to give me I would 
 be too much reduced in flesh and spirit to linger long 
 on the earth, for each of the twenty lodgers must 
 have his or her meals carried up-stairs on a tray. 
 Another boarding-house keeper was so sorry I had 
 not ;£ioo to invest in the business, as she would have 
 liked to have taken me into partnership. In Glouces- 
 ter Road a Mrs. Weldon, living in a small house, 
 with only herself and husband in family, said she 
 liked my appearance and manner, but that I did not 
 give her enough particulars concerning my private 
 history and family affairs. I thought her suspicious 
 manner of treating me far from delicate, especially 
 as I gaye her the name of a well-known London lady 
 as reference, who, I informed her, had known me 
 
In Cap and Apron. 21 
 
 from childhood. Had I been an ordinary applicant 
 for a situation, I should have attempted to give her a 
 lesson in politeness and considerateness for the feelings 
 of others. It is neither consistent nor just that a 
 young woman applying for a place as servant should 
 be subjected to such a catechism as that through 
 which this woman put me. It is quite as honourable 
 for servants to listen at keyholes as for mistresses to 
 attempt this prying into personal secrets. 
 
 At last I found an engagement. Mrs. Allison, 
 residing in a large house in the neighbourhood of 
 Portman Square, wrote to inform me that my refer- 
 ence was satisfactory, and she would give me a place 
 as housemaid. She ended by saying — 
 
 " I think I shall be able to smooth over many 
 of the rough places for you, and give you a comfort- 
 able home." 
 
 She would expect me on the evening of September 
 14. During the interval I made a close study of a 
 little book entitled " Servants' Duties ' and endeav- 
 oured to make myself proficient in all that pertained 
 to my chosen work. I became quite an expert in 
 the use of the words "ma'am" and "sir." At the 
 appointed time I presented myself and my handbag 
 at the door of the Portman Square mansion, ready to 
 enter my first situation as housemaid. 
 
 CHAPTER I'll. 
 
 "ELIZABETH BARROWS," HOUSEMAID. 
 
 My ring at Mrs. Allison's door-bell was answered by 
 the parlourmaid, who, without any explanations on 
 
22 Campaigns op Curiosity. 
 
 my part, seemed at once to recognise me as a co- 
 labourer, and led me to the servants' room on the fifth 
 floor. I was immediately struck with the cheerless 
 and comfortless aspect of the place where I was to 
 sleep and, perchance, to dream for a week or longer. 
 Three iron bedsteads stood in a row, and in front of 
 each was a strip of ragged carpet. There were two 
 chairs, a green chest of drawers, with a rickety- 
 looking-glass on top, and two green washstands, with 
 two bowls and pitchers. When I saw these latter 
 articles, it occurred to me that I had been told three 
 servants were to occupy the room, and I began to 
 wonder whether I would be obliged to share my 
 washbasin with the cook or the parlourmaid. I did 
 not like the prospect of such a contingency, and I was 
 far from being convinced of the truth of the saying 
 that " whatever is, is right." Still, I was philosophical 
 enough to understand that, whatever must be, must 
 be, and I commenced to unpack my few belongings. 
 Annie, the parlourmaid, had indicated the drawer in 
 the green chest which was to be my individual pro- 
 perty, so I put away my caps, aprons, collars, cuffs, 
 and the blue print dress I was to don the next 
 morning. Over the mantel hung a brightly-coloured 
 motto. It read, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, 
 do it with thy might." The verse was very a propos 
 and inspired fresh courage in my trembling heart as 
 I tied on my prettiest apron and went to the glass to 
 adjust my cap. Then, after a final satisfactory glance 
 into the mirror, I descended to Mrs. Allison's sitting- 
 room on the second floor. I found that lady dusting 
 the various ornaments on her writing-desk with a 
 yellow silk duster. 
 
In Cap and Apron. 23 
 
 She smiled propitiously upon me, and said, 
 "Good-evening, Elizabeth. Go right down to 
 the kitchen. Annie will tell you about the 
 work." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," I replied ; " but please call me Lizzie 
 I like it better." 
 
 * Very well, Lizzie." 
 
 That was the extent of our conversation. Mrs. 
 Allison had no words to waste on her servants. 
 Indeed, I was glad of it. When I had first called on 
 her, she listened respectfully to the story I had to tell, 
 took its truthfulness for granted, and said she would 
 do the same thing in my circumstances. She asked 
 no unnecessary questions, and I was prepared to like 
 her because she had not attempted to pry into my 
 family secrets nor to deprive me of my fringe. I had 
 explained to her that, although I might be above the 
 ordinary servant in education and bringing up, I did 
 not wish it to make any difference in her treatment of 
 me. In this matter she had respected my wishes, 
 and I felt that I was in a fair way to find out just 
 what were her relations with the young women who 
 were employed in her household in the capacity ot 
 domestic helps. 
 
 In the kitchen I found Annie standing before the 
 fire grilling mutton chops. She explained that a new 
 cook would be there the following Monday, and that 
 she was to prepare the meals until then. Eyeing me 
 critically, she exclaimed, " Did she tell you to wear 
 caps with streamers ? " I guessed that " she " referred 
 to the mistress of the house, and informed her that I 
 was wearing streamers on my own responsibility. 
 She thought my style was much prettier than her 
 
^4 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 own French caps, and declared her intention of pur- 
 chasing some like mine. 
 
 " Been out to service before ? " was her next 
 inquiry. 
 
 " No ; this is my first place." 
 
 "You'll find it's not -so easy as it looks," she 
 remarked, with a very superior and knowing air. 
 " We're on board wages till the cook Comes," she con- 
 tinued. " There's your allowance on the shelf." 
 
 I remembered that at home some of our own 
 servants had often referred enthusiastically to certain 
 times when they had been put on board wages and the 
 money they had been able to lay by at the end of the 
 week. I walked with elastic steps towards the shelf 
 to which Annie pointed, and picked up is. 6d. Then 
 my hopes went down about 90 degrees in the shade. 
 
 " Is this to buy breakfast ? " I asked. 
 
 Annie tittered. 
 
 " Well, I should say it was to buy breakfast, dinner, 
 supper, and afternoon tea," was her announcement. 
 
 Who would have believed it ? To be sure, I had 
 never sat down and calculated to a nicety just the quan- 
 tity of eatables is. 6d. would buy ; but still I doubted 
 my ability to make it go that far, especially when I 
 learned that pepper, salt, mustard, vinegar, and sugar 
 were also included in the meals. I began to have 
 great respect for that is. 6d. 
 
 I saw that Annie was inclined to be friendly, 
 which was a source of great satisfaction to me, for I 
 knew there must exist a spirit of camaraderie between 
 myself and fellow-servants, else I should never be able 
 to accomplish what I had set out to do — that is, dis- 
 cover the ins and outs of domestic service. I was 
 
"ELIZABETH BARROWS, HOUSEMAID. 
 (From a Photograph by the London Stereoscopic Company.) 
 
26 Campaigns of CuriositV. 
 
 fully prepared to enter into the joys and sorrows of 
 the kitchen, and with that in view I tried to be as 
 agreeable as possible to Annie. She had noticed 
 nothing peculiar about me, with the exception of 
 streamers. If my manner of speech was different from 
 hers, she did not observe it, but took me for one of her 
 own kind. Annie's attitude toward me was not in 
 any way intended to add to my self-conceit, and any 
 intellectual bearing I might have thought I possessed 
 did not apparently show up to advantage in the garb 
 of cap and apron. 
 
 Later in the evening we made the round of the 
 rooms. Annie gave me explicit instructions as to how 
 to tidy them up, turn down the beds and make the 
 washstands ready for use. When this work was done, 
 I was more tired than I had ever been in my life. 
 What with emptying out the washbowls and refilling 
 the pitchers, I had gone up and down two flights of 
 stairs eight times, carrying heavy water-cans and pails. 
 To the kitchen we again descended, and, while I wiped 
 the dishes, Annie entertained me by telling me some- 
 thing of the family with whom I was to live. There 
 were Mr. and Mrs. Allison, three daughters, and two 
 sons. Two of the young ladies were at the seaside, 
 and would return with their maid on Saturday. The 
 staff of servants included cook, parlourmaid, house- 
 maid, and ladies' maid. Annie had formerly been 
 housemaid in the family where she was now parlour- 
 maid, so she was able to instruct me as to my duties. 
 She opened a little cupboard off the kitchen and 
 brought out a basket of underwear and stockings. 
 It was the housemaid's basket, and I was to spend my 
 evenings in attending to the mending. I looked 
 
In Cap and Apron. 2J 
 
 aghast at the contents. How should I, with my slight 
 knowledge of needlework, attempt to darn the woollen 
 socks of the gentlemen of the house? Just then 
 Annie was called to the hall to answer the whistle of 
 the speaking-tube, and returned to say that Mrs. 
 Allison would see me in the study and give me a list of 
 the work I was to do the following day. I welcomed 
 this news as a present deliverance from the mending pro- 
 blem, but when I got that list from Mrs. Allison, I felt 
 that my doom was sealed. It seemed to me that the 
 responsibilitiesputupon myshoulders were tremendous. 
 I was to rise at six in the morning, and my first 
 duty was to shake and brush Mr. Allison's trousers, 
 which I would find hanging on the doorknob out- 
 side his room. I was about to inform Mrs. Allison 
 that I did not engage as a valet, and was not 
 up in the art of brushing trousers, when I suddenly 
 remembered that I was not a " young lady " now, but 
 a "young person," expected to do with her might 
 whatever her hands found to do. Did not the motto 
 in my bedroom so inform me ? I made no remarks, 
 and listened for the second duty, which was to brush 
 Mrs. Allison's dress and carry all the boots to the 
 kitchen for Annie to polish. I was glad of the latter 
 clause, for, had I been told to shine the boots, I think 
 I should have despaired. Afterwards I would sweep 
 and dust four flights of stairs and five halls, clean up 
 and dust the study and drawing-rooms, and carry a 
 can of hot water to each person, knocking on the door 
 to wake him or her up. I concluded that when I 
 had accomplished all these things, I should have done 
 a good day's work ; but were my ears deceiving me ? 
 What was Mrs. Allison saying ? 
 
2& Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 " Then you may eat your breakfast ! " 
 
 So I was to achieve all those Herculean feats on an 
 empty stomach ! Well, if that was the case, I certainly 
 ought to be able to perform wonders after I had 
 breakfasted. 
 
 Mrs. Allison continued with her list, never noting 
 my perturbed countenance. 
 
 " After you have breakfasted, Lizzie, you must 
 help Annie with the dishes, then make the beds, 
 clean up the washstands, fill the water-jugs, 
 sweep and dust the bedrooms, attend to the 
 candlesticks, and put everything in perfect order 
 in the sitting-rooms. You will get this done by 
 eleven o'clock." (On that point I was tempted to 
 contradict her flatly, but I knew discretion was the 
 better part of valour, and preserved silence.) " From 
 eleven till three," went on my mistress, " you will turn 
 out one or two of the rooms and eat your dinner in 
 the meantime. At four o'clock I want you to be 
 dressed with clean cap and apron. Then you will get 
 the servants' afternoon tea and clear it away, and you 
 can fill up the time until supper with needlework." 
 (That needlework still relentlessly pursued me.) 
 After supper I was to make the round of the rooms 
 again and sew until a quarter-past ten. Then I might 
 go to bed, a consummation devoutly to be wished for ! 
 
 After hearing the " list," I bowed politely to Mrs. 
 Allison, said, "Very well, ma'am," and joined Annie 
 in the kitchen. She greeted me with a fiendish grin, 
 and said, "Did she say anything about the scrubbing?" 
 
 " Scrubbing ! Must I scrub ? " I almost shrieked. 
 
 " You'll think so, when you get at it ! Why, you 
 have to scrub a bedroom all over every day, and 
 
In Cap and Apron. 29 
 
 sometimes two ! You see, you must turn out a room 
 each day, and there's no carpet on the bedrooms ; 
 only a narrow rug- before the bed. On turning out 
 day, you must shake the rug and scrub up the floor 
 and the paint. It do make your hands and arms ache, 
 I tell you. It's too bad you took such a hard place 
 for your first time in service ! " 
 
 She said this rather pityingly. No wonder! I 
 pitied myself. It was ten o'clock. 
 
 " Come," said I, " let us go to bed. I'm so tired ! " 
 
 Annie laughed. 
 
 u Well, you're a greeny, sure enough ! When 
 you're in service, you can't go to bed when you like. 
 Master Tom is out, and hasn't a key. We'll have 
 to let him in. You might do some needlework while 
 we're waiting." 
 
 That was the last straw that broke the camel's 
 back. I put my head down on the kitchen table and 
 silently wept. 
 
 At eleven o'clock Master Tom came in, and we 
 went to our bedroom. I noted that the bed had 
 neither springs nor hair mattress, but I slept, never- 
 theless, and all night long in my dreams came visions 
 of much-worn scrubbing-brushes and basket upon 
 basket of gentlemen's undarned socks. Suddenly I 
 heard a loud noise like the clanking of a cow-bell. 
 I jumped up, and went to Annie's bed to demand 
 the meaning of the horrible racket. 
 
 " Why, it's six o'clock ; that's all. The missus has 
 an alarm-bell connected with her room. She sends 
 it off every morning to make us get up." 
 
 I was dressed in an instant, and with my written 
 list in hand, started off to attend to order number 
 
30 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 one. The trousers and the dress were duly brushed, 
 the stairs and halls swept and dusted, and each 
 person supplied with a hot-water can. Then I went 
 into the study, which was a large room. There were 
 dozens of ornaments on the desk and mantel, which 
 it seemed an endless task to dust and rearrange. 
 My head ached for the want of food, yet I knew 
 that I had not only the study to finish, but two large 
 drawing-rooms to attend to. I noticed that the 
 drawing rooms and the study were the only really 
 cheerful rooms in the house. All the comforts and 
 pictures and ornaments were crowded together in 
 these rooms, and to do them up properly was no 
 easy piece of work, but they were on the list to be 
 done before breakfast. At 8.30 I had finished them, 
 however, and went to the kitchen. 
 
 Annie informed me that the servants' cupboard 
 was in a veritable Mother Hubbard state, and, if I 
 wanted anything for breakfast besides tea and bread, 
 I must go and buy it. I took my is. 6d. and went 
 out to shop, and, remembering that my own home 
 was only a short distance from the place where I 
 was " in service," I ran around there and filled my 
 basket with provisions, while my is. 6d. remained 
 intact. Annie's face beamed when she saw the 
 wonderful purchases I had effected, all with is. 6d., 
 and I then and there established the reputation of 
 being a good provider. She insisted that she must 
 share the expense, and wished to know the price of 
 each article, which I gave her as follows : — One pound 
 of strawberry jam (whole berries), 2d. per pound ; 
 two pounds of best mutton chops, 6d.; three pounds 
 of fresh tomatoes, 3d. for the lot ; four rashers best 
 
In Cap and Apron 31 
 
 streaked bacon, Jd. per rasher ; large piece of beef 
 for roasting, 5d. Annie declared she never knew 
 you could buy things so cheap, and wanted the 
 addresses of the shops I patronised. It is unnecessary 
 to say that I had forgotten their location, and it is 
 also needless to explain that from that time, until 
 the cook came, I was delegated to do the marketing 
 and hunt up these daily bargains, much to the 
 diminishing of the contents of the larder at home. 
 That morning we breakfasted off mutton chops and 
 tomato sauce, while the family up-stairs were con- 
 tent to start the day with one egg each and a slice 
 of toast. 
 
 That first day "in service" lingers in my memory 
 as a sort of nightmare. The whole house seemed 
 arranged in such a way as to make the work as 
 hard as possible. The bath-room was on the top 
 floor, and, as all the water must be carried from there 
 to the bedrooms below, it was no small matter to 
 fill the water-pitchers. Then, in washing, every 
 member of the family seemed to have taken par- 
 ticular pains to spill as much water about as possible, 
 and everything had to be removed from the wash- 
 stands before they could be put in order. All this 
 might have been prevented had the bowls been filled 
 not quite so full and a little care been exercised. 
 Everything was thrown down where it had been 
 used, though it was just as easy to return these 
 various articles to their proper places. The linen 
 cupboard in Mrs. Allison's room was guarded by an 
 immense couch, on which were piled dozens of boxes 
 containing dresses, which must all be removed before 
 I could get fresh towels. Then the couch had to 
 
32 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 be pushed back again, and the boxes heaped on top. 
 All the bedrooms were gloomy and devoid of com- 
 fort, to say nothing of ornaments. The floors, as 
 Annie had informed me, were not carpeted, and 
 served to bring forcibly to my mind the scrubbing 
 I should have to do. Eleven o'clock came, and I 
 had not finished the bedroom work. There were all 
 the candlesticks to scrape off. One of them, a hand- 
 some bronze figure of Minerva, it took me just one 
 hour to get clean. The armour, draperies, and petti- 
 coats of the goddess were plentifully sprinkled with 
 candle-grease, which soap and water failed to eradi- 
 cate, so there was nothing to do but scrape it off 
 with a hair-pin, all of which took much valuable 
 time. " What, an hour spent in cleaning a candle- 
 stick ! " some sensible housewife may exclaim. I 
 can only tell her to get a bronze Minerva and see 
 if she can do it in quicker time. 
 
 At half-past one Annie and I were eating dinner, 
 when a whistle sounded through the speaking-tube. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," I called, ready to take Mrs. Alli- 
 son's order. 
 
 " Lizzie, you did not close the schoolroom window. 
 Come up and attend to it." 
 
 I went to the schoolroom, on the top floor; it 
 was five flights from the kitchen. The lady of the 
 house sat at a table reading a magazine. I closed 
 the window and went down to finish my dinner. 
 
 This was an instance of the way Mrs. Allison tried 
 to "smooth over the rough places" for me and make 
 my situation as comfortable as possible. 
 
In Cap and Apron. 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ROUGH PLACES "SMOOTHED OVER." 
 
 When I had spent two days in Mrs. Allison's ser- 
 vice, I began to wonder what the "rough places" 
 would have been like had she not attempted to 
 smooth them over. She certainly could not have 
 accused me of being a slow worker, and I did not 
 " dilly-dally " over my duties, yet on Friday and 
 Saturday I found it impossible to make time for 
 "turning out" the rooms, however much I hurried. 
 I no sooner finished tidying up the bedrooms than 
 the washbowls were again filled to overflowing with 
 soapy water and needed further attention. When 
 I had brushed one dress and hung it in the ward- 
 robe, another flannel gown or coat would be hung 
 out on the banisters. " Such little things ! " some- 
 one may say. Yes, that is true. A dress may be 
 brushed in five minutes, and a washbasin emptied 
 and wiped out in less time, but these small things 
 call a servant away from her more important work 
 and put her behind for the whole day. On Saturday 
 morning, when I was washing out the dusters in the 
 housemaid's cupboard, Mrs. Allison presented me 
 with a pair of her husband's old kid-gloves, saying 
 they would be " nice to wear when brushing the grates." 
 I uttered a silent prayer that the cold days might 
 not come during my stay, and put them away for 
 the use of my successor. The carrying of coals, 
 D 
 
34 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 building of fires, and emptying ashes are doubtless 
 the hardest part of the work which falls to the 
 women servants in a house where no man is kept, 
 especially in families where every member insists 
 on being comfortable and having fires in the bed- 
 rooms. However, Annie informed me that at Mrs. 
 Allison's the bedrooms were not heated in the winter. 
 Still, with each sleeping-room there was connected 
 a sitting-room, where fires were kept, besides two 
 grates in the drawing-rooms ; all of which work fell 
 to the lot of the housemaid. 
 
 I soon became accustomed to my work, and was 
 really surprised at the readiness with which I put 
 into practice all I learned from my little book on 
 " Servants' Duties," and, although I knew my stay 
 was only a temporary one, I interested myself to 
 discover the easiest and quickest ways for doing the 
 work. After sweeping the stairs the first morning, 
 I found that the small banister brush used for that 
 purpose in most London houses was not a convenient 
 or suitable implement, as it was impossible to get 
 into the corners with it, so it was necessary to use 
 two brushes in the operation. I felt sure that a 
 whisk broom would better meet my requirements, 
 and requested Mrs. Allison to get me one ; but she 
 was not inclined to give any help in the way of 
 labour-saving appliances, so I used my own little 
 broom which I had taken with me for brushing my 
 coat. After that the corners were beautifully clean. 
 I would recommend this sort of brush to all house- 
 keepers, not only because of its easy application to 
 the corners, but for the reason that there is no 
 awkward, heavy piece of wood about it, making that 
 
In Cap and Apron. 35 
 
 disagreeable knockety-knock every time a step is 
 brushed, thus saving wear and tear on the nerves 
 of the housemaid and allowing the members of the 
 family to continue their morning sleep undisturbed 
 by the racket. In the same way, for sweeping both 
 bare floors and carpets, the long-handled straight 
 broom, known as the " American broom," seems 
 to me to be ever so much more convenient and 
 easy to manipulate than the English brush broom, 
 which } like the banister broom, will not go into the 
 corners. 
 
 All the stairs of the house were covered with felt, 
 the hardest floor-covering in the world to keep clean. 
 Besides the daily sweeping, I was obliged to rub them 
 frequently with a damp cloth in order to remove the 
 accumulated dust and lint. The halls and passages 
 were of stone, with rugs scattered about, which proved 
 to be perfect traps for dust and dirt, and showed con- 
 clusively that properly carpeted halls were, in the 
 long run, a great saving of labour. There were gas- 
 pipes in every room, needing only the addition of 
 fixtures to make them ready for use, and thus 
 dispense with the numerous candlesticks that were 
 to be refilled every day. In the halls, on the stairs, 
 and in every room of the house, from the kitchen to 
 the fifth floor, candle-grease was plentifully sprinkled, 
 and my brown paper and hot flat-iron were in con- 
 stant demand. 
 
 It seemed to me that, by expending a little 
 thought and money, a vast amount of unnecessary 
 time might be saved as regarded the continual tidying 
 up of bedrooms, &c. For instance, why should beds 
 first be made up with the blankets and coverlets over 
 D 2 
 
36 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 the pillows, and then partly remade in the evening 
 when the beds are " turned down " ? An easier and 
 much neater way would be to turn down the sheets at 
 once and place the pillows on the outside. Thus only 
 one handling is necessary. 
 
 If mistresses would devote more thought to this 
 saving of labour, they would find they were at the 
 same time lessening their household expenses by 
 preventing an unnecessary outlay in servants' wages, 
 for where work is made light, and quick methods 
 employed, fewer servants are required. 
 
 On Saturday a charwoman came in to help make 
 things ready for the new cook. She was a type of 
 the charing sisterhood — big, red-faced, and noisy, with 
 a tendency to order about the servants of the house. 
 She scrubbed and scoured up everything in the 
 basement, yet always stopped just short of finishing 
 what she began. Every stewpan and pot received a 
 rub and a dig with a knife, and was put back on the 
 shelf with some of last year's grease or soot on it. 
 To make things clean on the outside as well as on the 
 inside seemed never to enter her head. The immense 
 spit used for roasting was brought out, and by its 
 looks I judged that the old cook had never troubled 
 herself to wash it during the last six months. It was 
 subjected to the process of scraping and pounding, 
 which was enough to render it utterly useless ever 
 after. It, too, was put back in the scullery, clean in 
 spots. 
 
 That scullery ! What a revelation it was to me, 
 and how I resolved that when I got out I would 
 use my influence to abolish sculleries for ever ! I 
 know that the majority of cooks insist upon having 
 
In Cap and Apron. 37 
 
 what they call a " place for doing the dirty work," but 
 why should there be this dirty work, if things are 
 done properly each day ? To wash dishes and pots 
 and kettles only hot water, plenty of soap and soda, 
 and a dishcloth are necessary, and, if properly 
 attended to after each meal, there is no reason why 
 they should be put on the shelf with black soot 
 sticking to them. I noticed that the charwoman and 
 Annie seemed to have but one idea in their dish- 
 washing — that of getting things put out of sight, no 
 matter in what condition. When Annie brought the 
 trays down from the dining-room, glasses, silver, 
 knives, cups, meat- platters, and vegetable dishes were 
 heaped together on the table in a miscellaneous mass, 
 and, with the merest attempt at scraping and no 
 effort to sort them, they were thrown into the water 
 which was immediately covered with a scum of grease 
 and tea or coffee grounds. I took advantage of an 
 opportunity to put my scientific method of dish- 
 washing into practice, but failed to make any 
 impression on Annie's mind, for she returned to her 
 old way at supper-time. I first put all the glasses 
 together, then emptied everything from cups and 
 saucers, and placed them in a neat pile. Then the 
 spoons, knives and forks, plates, meat and vegetable 
 dishes, were cleansed of leavings and grease, and 
 put in other piles near the dishpan, while all 
 pots and kettles were cleaned out as thoroughly as 
 possible with a knife, and hot water poured into them 
 to soak off the remainder while I washed the best 
 dishes. 
 
 These preliminary arrangements did not take 
 more than five minutes, and then I was ready to 
 
38 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 proceed with dish-washing without the annoyance of 
 greasy dish-water. The silver and glasses were 
 washed and dried before I went on with the cups and 
 plates, for I knew that, unless they were polished 
 while they were hot, they would look smeared and 
 dirty. I am aware that many servants insist on 
 putting dishes away to dry on a rack, without 
 applying a towel until they are ready to lay the 
 table ; but I have never seen a clean and well- 
 polished dish that was so handled. If dish-racks 
 were abolished along with the sculleries, mistresses 
 would find less reason to complain of the tables being 
 laid with smeared and nicked dishes. Nothing can 
 be more aggravating and unsightly than an expensive 
 set of china with cracks and bits chipped off the 
 edges ; and what little experience I had in the 
 kitchen went to show me that ail this could be 
 prevented if dishes were washed, dried, and put away 
 immediately after each meal. 
 
 Annie and I ate dinner on Saturday with the 
 charwoman, who munched away at her bread and 
 meat with her sleeves rolled up, exposing very fat, 
 red arms. In the afternoon I was ordered to assist 
 her in moving an iron bedstead from one room to 
 another. She insisted that the bed could be pushed 
 through the door without being taken apart, while I 
 was of a different opinion. She did not look a pleasant 
 person to cross, so I followed her instructions. The 
 spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak, and, try 
 as I would, I could not manage to lift the thing from 
 the floor. 
 
 "Come on there, Liz ! can't ye heft a bit?" she 
 exclaimed impatiently. For the moment I forgot my 
 
In Cap and Apron 39 
 
 cap and apron, and remembered only my outraged 
 dignity and aching arms. Fortunately, ere I delivered 
 myself of a scathing rebuke for her familiarity, a 
 streamer flapped in my face, a timely reminder of my 
 altered condition and circumstances. 
 
 Thus the Allison family were spared the inter- 
 esting scene of a combat between the housemaid and 
 the charwoman. 
 
 The bed finally had to be dismantled and taken 
 apart, and the charwoman seemed to regard me as 
 the cause of all the trouble. At tea-time she had 
 somewhat relented, and offered to share her pitcher of 
 bitter ale with me. (Mrs. Allison, I may mention, 
 showed the good sense not to supply the servants 
 with beer, and, if they drank it, it was at their own 
 expense.) 
 
 "Better take it, young woman," said she, as I 
 refused the glass she pushed towards me. "Ye'll 
 need a strengthener if yer housemaid in this place. 
 I've chared here five years, and I know the housemaid 
 they had before Annie came worked herself into the 
 'ospital in less than a year's time. She's done for 
 now, is Annie. Got housemaid's knee with all the 
 scrubbing." 
 
 I decided to investigate into the cause and cure of 
 this ailment, and took out a small note-book I carried 
 in my apron pocket, and wrote down a few shorthand 
 notes. 
 
 " What's them queer marks ?" asked Annie, edging 
 around to my side of the table and looking over my 
 shoulder. 
 
 I explained that I was trying to learn stenography 
 with a view to bettering my position in life later on. 
 
40 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Annie smiled her approval of the project, and thought 
 I should be able to earn as much as thirty shillings a 
 week if I got a place. 
 
 The area gate bell rang just then, and Annie 
 begged me to answer it, because I had finished tea 
 and she had not. I started out, and got half-way up 
 the stairs, when, looking up, I saw our own butcher's 
 boy holding out a joint for me to take into the 
 kitchen. " Hello, another new 'un!" he observed, and 
 then, fearing he would recognise and betray me, I 
 bolted backwards and into the kitchen, explaining 
 that I had hurt my foot, and asked Annie to get the 
 meat. From that time I lived in terror of being; 
 asked to go on hasty errands, when I would not have 
 an opportunity to remove my cap and apron. It was 
 not that I was ashamed of the badge, but simply 
 that I did not care to be recognised in the guise 
 by any friends or neighbours I might meet. I was 
 always careful to wear my coat and hat when I posted 
 the letters in the evening, much to the disgust of 
 Annie, who insisted that I wasted too much time in 
 " primping." 
 
 Saturday night the missing members of the family 
 came home with their luggage and their maid. The 
 boxes were heaped in the front hall and partly un- 
 packed there. Mrs. Allison said that Annie and I 
 were to carry them up-stairs the next morning, and 
 I lay awake half the night wondering how I should 
 be able to manage it without breaking any bones. 
 Sunday morning we were allowed a half-hour's extra 
 sleep ; but, to my astonishment, Annie informed me 
 that the same round of work must be done as on 
 weekdays. The stairs and passages, bedrooms, sitting- 
 
In Cap and Apron. 41 
 
 rooms, and drawing-rooms were to be swept and 
 dusted, and I was busy until twelve o'clock as on 
 former days. Then we had the various boxes to 
 carry to the fourth floor, During the process Annie 
 assured me that the weight seemed to be all at her 
 end of the boxes, and I felt she had every reason 
 to complain, though I tugged away with might and 
 main. Women servants are not fitted for doing 
 this sort of work, and in the case of families where 
 no manservant is employed outside help should 
 be brought in. 
 
 The gentleman of the house stood by, and saw 
 us carrying the boxes and heard me remark that the 
 cabman should have attended to them the previous 
 night, but he seemed to be unimpressionable. Annie 
 informed me that the evening before she had been 
 obliged to assist the cabman in getting them from the 
 top of the four-wheeler. 
 
 At two o'clock, as a meal for seven persons had 
 to be cooked, Mrs. Allison asked me to wait at table 
 while Annie stayed in the kitchen. I dressed in my 
 very best for that auspicious occasion, for it was my 
 debut as a waitress. Annie gave me instructions 
 beforehand, so that everything went off very credit- 
 ably. Only once did I pass things to the right of the 
 individual instead of to the left. No dishes were 
 broken and nothing spilled over. I stood back in the 
 corner of the dining-room awaiting orders from the 
 head of the table, and many times had difficulty in 
 repressing a smile as I listened to the table-talk. The 
 first thought that occurred to me as I carried the 
 heavy iron trays up the stairs was, " Why do not 
 housewives spend a few pounds and have lifts put in, 
 
42 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 connecting dining-room and kitchen, thus saving all 
 this running up and down stairs ? " The trays were 
 immense iron things that were in themselves very- 
 heavy without the addition of china and eatables. 
 There are light tin trays to be had that answer every 
 purpose, and I almost felt like suggesting the fact to 
 Mrs. Allison after dinner, but I remembered her 
 refusal of the whisk broom and desisted. It was 
 half-past four when the dishes were cleared away. 
 I began to feel anxious about my Sunday afternoon 
 off, for I had received a letter, forwarded from the 
 Camberwell address, telling me to call on Mrs. 
 Brownlow, in Kensington, at six o'clock Sunday, 
 as she thought she could employ me as par- 
 lourmaid. At five I asked permission to go out, 
 which was granted. I found the Kensington lady a 
 most charming person, and made arrangements to 
 enter her service as parlourmaid the following Thurs- 
 day evening, though how I should get rid of my 
 present place I had not then decided. I was deter- 
 mined to try at least two situations before giving my 
 experiences to the public, and I began to feel that 
 my story of Mrs. Allison would not be a pleasant one 
 to relate. 
 
 I returned at seven, and found Annie busily 
 engaged in answering the door. It was Mrs. Allison's 
 day at home. I helped to prepare the tea and cakes, 
 later we served supper to the family, and at nine 
 had our own bread and cheese. So this was a Sun- 
 day in service. I had two hours' rest ; Annie had 
 none! I remembered a command I had been taught 
 in my youth which had to do with the keeping of the 
 Sabbath, and said something about manservants and 
 
In Cap and Apron. 43 
 
 maidservants. I am not a Sabbatarian, but I contend 
 that in the name of reason, and on good general busi- 
 ness principles, every man and woman should have 
 one day's rest during the week, be it Sunday or some 
 other day. The round of sweeping should be 
 omitted on Sunday, only a light dinner prepared, 
 and a part of the servants be allowed to spend 
 most of the day in their rooms, in church, or in 
 the park, according to their inclinations, and the 
 servants who must remain on duty during Sunday 
 should be given a resting day during the week. I 
 know it is asserted that most mistresses give their 
 maids a whole or half-holiday each week, but my 
 investigations have led me to believe that this 
 is often neglected, and, whether or not it is so, 
 the Sunday duties should be made as light as 
 possible. 
 
 Monday evening the new cook made her appear- 
 ance, and our board wages ceased. I did not do any 
 marketing, thinking that henceforth we should be 
 provided with suitable meals. For breakfast, Tues- 
 day, bread and butter and coffee were placed on the 
 table. 
 
 " Is there no meat or potatoes ? " I questioned 
 Annie. 
 
 " No, the missus never allows us anything in the 
 morning but bread and coffee." 
 
 I was already tired with my morning's work, and, 
 having been told I must " turn out " two rooms that 
 day, I knew that, without a proper breakfast, I should 
 not be able to get through. I would speak to Mrs. 
 Allison about it. 
 
 " Better not," said Annie ; " the last cook fried 
 
44 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 some fish for breakfast one morning, and she got 
 notice." 
 
 " Annie," I said, " I'm afraid this place is going to 
 be too hard for me. I don't think I'll stop after my 
 week is up." 
 
 " But you can't leave without giving notice. If 
 you do, she'll make you pay her a whole month's 
 wages ; and, if she makes you go without giving notice, 
 she must pay you a month's wages," explained my 
 co-worker. 
 
 "But suppose I do something she doesn't like 
 and she discharges me ? " 
 
 " Why, then, you'd have to go ; but she wouldn't 
 give you a character." 
 
 I went to Mrs. Allison's room and knocked at the 
 door. 
 
 "Mrs. Allison, do you not allow the servants any- 
 thing for breakfast but bread and coffee ? I thought 
 there must be some mistake," I said, as she opened 
 the door. 
 
 " No, it is not a mistake," was her reply. 
 
 " But I must have a good breakfast or I simply 
 cannot do the work, so I will go out and buy some 
 meat myself." 
 
 " Very well, do so," she answered as she shut the 
 door. 
 
 An hour later, I was making her bed, when she 
 entered the room. 
 
 " Lizzie, I have been thinking it over, and I have 
 decided that you and I won't pull," was her announce- 
 ment. 
 
 "No, I don't think we will, Ma'am," I re- 
 plied. 
 
In Cap and Apron. 45 
 
 "Then, if you will wait until I get suited," she 
 continued, "you may go." 
 
 I told her I was sorry I could not accommodate 
 her, but that I preferred to leave Thursday, and she 
 went off in high dudgeon, saying that any common 
 servant would show her mistress the courtesy to 
 remain until she was suited. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that I was discharged from 
 my first place without a character because I, like 
 Oliver Twist, had the audacity to "ask for more." 
 But I had three more days to work for Mrs. Allison, 
 and I looked forward to Thursday with fear and 
 trembling. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WITHOUT A "CHARACTER." 
 
 When I informed Annie that I had been discharged, 
 she exhibited the greatest concern, for to her mind 
 my condition was a pathetic one. How should I get 
 another place without the character Mrs. Allison 
 would refuse to give ? She argued that it was always 
 better to part friends, even with bad mistresses, for 
 without a character no girl could get a situation. 
 
 I made a note of this for future reference, and 
 since I left service I have found it a useful bit of in- 
 formation. If many much-tried but good-natured mis- 
 tresses would only remind impertinent and neglectful 
 maids that future situations depend upon present 
 good behaviour, a great stride would be made toward 
 
46 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 a solution of the servant problem. On the other 
 hand, the time will come when references will 
 be demanded from the mistress as well as the 
 maid. Then the Mrs. Allison type will not be so 
 numerous. 
 
 Poor Annie ! She was holding one hand to her 
 head and another at her side, while she discussed this 
 question, displaying her unselfish interest in my 
 welfare. She had lost four hours of legitimate sleep 
 the preceding night, but was up at six in the morning 
 as usual. What wonder that she felt tired and ill ! 
 I counselled her to go to bed and rest awhile. She 
 looked at me again with the superior air she had 
 worn on the evening of our first meeting. "When 
 you're in service, you can't go to bed if you're ill," was 
 her answer, as she carried the tray of silver and 
 glasses into the pantry, and commenced her first day's 
 work as bond-fide parlourmaid. She had only a 
 servant-girl's headache, brought on by remaining 
 awake till after one o'clock in order to open the door 
 for the daughters of the house, who had been to the 
 theatre ! " But how avoid such occasional contin- 
 gencies ? Shall the young ladies be allowed a latch- 
 key?" asks a horrified mother of grown-up daughters. 
 Well, of course, to my unconventional mind, the 
 latch-key would be the simplest way out of the 
 difficulty; but I would suggest that it is the duty 
 of the ladies' maid and not of the parlourmaid 
 to wait up and serve supper after the theatre. 
 The parlourmaid must rise early in the morning 
 to begin her daily round of work, and therefore 
 should be allowed to go to bed at a proper hour, 
 while in the case of the ladies' maid it is, or should be, 
 
In Cap and Apron. 47 
 
 different. If she is up late, she should be allowed to 
 sleep later in the morning. Of course, in large estab- 
 lishments of a dozen or more servants these matters 
 are better arranged ; but in households like Mrs. 
 Allison's, where the strictest economy is practised as 
 regards the number of servants employed and the 
 amount of wages paid, little or no attention is given 
 to this important subject. 
 
 Mathilde, the Swiss maid, was a person who well 
 appreciated her own value and took advantage of her 
 position. She was a competent dressmaker and hair- 
 dresser, who, for reasons known only to herself, 
 elected to give her services to the Allison family for 
 the small stipend of ^20 a year. Realising that 
 cheapness and competency rarely go together, Mrs. 
 Allison knew that she would be unable to fill 
 Mathilde's place at such a price, and decided it was 
 best to humour that young woman's whims. Mathilde 
 was of a sleepy nature, and could not be induced 
 under any consideration to sit up after 10.30, so 
 either Annie or I must remain down-stairs till all the 
 family were in. It was Mathilde's duty to help me 
 make the best beds, and while thus engaged I noticed 
 that she had a patronising way of treating me. She 
 was particularly inquisitive in regard to my previous 
 life and occupation, and I told her a highly-entertain- 
 ing story concerning myself. 
 
 The new cook was a welcome acquisition in the 
 kitchen. Annie was especially glad to have some of 
 the responsibilities taken off her shoulders, and the do- 
 mestic machinery began to run a little more smoothly. 
 My labours, however, were in no way lightened, ex- 
 cept that I had nothing more to do with dish-washing. 
 
48 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Annie's duties were to rise at six o'clock, attend 
 to the lamps, sweep and dust the large music-room, 
 carry some boiling water to Mrs. Allison, lay the 
 table, wait at all the meals, clear away and brush 
 up afterwards, answer the door, and assist with the 
 needlework. Her duties seemed neither so numerous 
 nor so complex as my own, but when I explain 
 that from half-past nine in the morning until eleven 
 at night the bell rang on an average of every ten 
 minutes it will be seen that her time was well 
 occupied. 
 
 Mary, the cook, was tall, fat, ruddy-faced and 
 good-humoured, and seemed inclined to make me her 
 especial protege. She expressed regret when I told 
 her I was to leave the next Thursday, and gave me 
 the address of a lady in Belgravia who she thought 
 could offer me an easy place. At dinner she was 
 greatly exercised over the news that neither beer nor 
 beer-money was allowed in the kitchen, and blamed 
 herself for her stupidity in forgetting to ask about so 
 important a matter before she took the place. Beer, 
 she declared, was essential to her health and happi- 
 ness. Then she beamed upon me, and, handing me a 
 pitcher, asked if I would run around the corner and 
 get some bitter ale, as she could not leave the joint 
 that was roasting before the fire. I did not wish 
 to offend her, nor did I quite like the idea of going 
 to a public-house ; but finally, as I stood there halting 
 between two opinions, journalistic enterprise got the 
 better of dignity. I threw on my hat and coat, and, 
 with the despised pitcher in hand, made my exit 
 from the area gate, determined to penetrate into the 
 mysteries of the bar-room, 
 
In Cap and Apron 49 
 
 As I entered there came an odour of to- 
 bacco that nearly overwhelmed me, but I went for- 
 ward to have my pitcher filled. There was over a 
 score of men and women standing or sitting about 
 on the long benches, drinking, smoking, and gossip- 
 ing about what " she said," what " he said," and what 
 " I said, sez I." Some of the men were in livery, and 
 I was the only one of my sex without a cap and 
 apron. A number of those present I recognised as 
 servants in neighbouring families. They seemed in 
 no hurry to return with their beer, and, judging by 
 their hilarious state, many of them had been there 
 some time, and various family secrets were divulged 
 by one servant to another. I left the place with my 
 pitcher of ale, which I tried to hide by means of a 
 large morning paper and the cape of my coat. I had 
 seen the result of allowing beer-money to servants, 
 and I appreciated more keenly why so many of the 
 letters I had received in answer to my advertisement 
 had ended with the words " No beer." I found that 
 the public-house was made a sort of rendezvous for 
 the men and women servants of the neighbourhood, 
 and housework lagged behind, while with pipe and 
 beer they gossiped and dragged out family skeletons 
 for the edification of their fellow-servants. 
 
 This question of beer-money is a much more serious 
 one than many housewives imagine. I am speaking 
 now from a purely business standpoint, for I am not a 
 distributor of temperance tracts nor a member of a 
 prohibition union. I can see no reason why beer or 
 beer-money should be demanded by servants as one 
 of their lawful rights. If, when their day's work is 
 done, a glass of ale will help to take away "that tired 
 E 
 
50 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 feeling" with which they must necessarily be afflicted, 
 I would not be the one to deprive them of their com- 
 forter ; but I do insist that the mistress of the house 
 should not be called upon to furnish the beverage, 
 nor should they under any circumstances be allowed 
 to go to the public house to procure it. A business 
 man in the city is not expected to furnish a daily 
 allowance of beer to each one of his clerks; and, if 
 domestic service is to be raised to a proper standard, 
 this matter of beer-allowance must be dispensed with. 
 
 Mary was what is commonly called a plain cook 
 — not a "professed" one, as she confidentially in- 
 formed me ; and when I noticed her way of preparing 
 potatoes I decided that she was a very plain cook 
 indeed. Her only ideas seemed to be either to boil 
 them and send them up whole, or sift them through 
 a colander, from which they emerged in dirty, rice- 
 like flakes. She added no milk, butter, pepper, or 
 salt, and I began to feel sorry for the family who 
 were obliged to eat them — to say nothing of my own 
 personal longing for some of the sixteen delicious 
 dishes into which I knew potatoes could be made. 
 Mary began at once to save up all the drippings from 
 the roasts, and did not heed my remark that drip- 
 ping was good for frying. She demanded to know 
 whether I wanted to rob her of her lawful perquisites. 
 When the bone-man came around, I believe she was 
 richer to the extent of sixpence, while Mrs. Allison 
 was poorer by a much larger amount. 
 
 I soon discovered that the cook had a prejudice 
 against washing frying-pans, which, each time bacon 
 or fish was cooked, were hung up in the scullery with 
 the cold grease sticking to them, all in readiness for 
 
In Cap and Apron. 51 
 
 the next time they were needed ; and it was only a 
 matter of chance if the fish-pan was not used the next 
 day for frying eggs. Another discovery I made was 
 the reason why so many pieces of beautiful china 
 soon get unsightly with the enamel all marked by an 
 intricate network of dark cracks. It is done by 
 putting the dishes into the oven or on the stove to 
 heat before being taken up to the dining-room. This 
 can be avoided by immersing the plates, meat- 
 platters, and vegetable-dishes in very hot water and 
 drying quickly just as they are ready to be sent up- 
 stairs. The heat of the oven not only cracks them, 
 but imparts a peculiar odour not likely to increase 
 one's appetite at dinner. 
 
 * After the cook came, the three beds in the ser- 
 vants' room were occupied, and, to my immense 
 relief, Annie and Mary shared one washbowl, and 
 left me in solitary enjoyment of the other. When we 
 went to bed sleep did not come so easily as it had at 
 first, for an exchange of opinions on various subjects 
 was the order of the first hour or longer. Mary was 
 curious to know all about the personal characteristics 
 of each member of the family ; but Annie was un- 
 communicative, and told her, if she stopped long 
 enough, she would find out for herself. I was treated 
 as a sort of heroine, Mary praising me for my pluck 
 in asking for better breakfasts, which she declared 
 her own intention of doing soon, and Annie always 
 bewailing my characterless state. Mrs. Allison had 
 advertised for a new housemaid, and Annie regaled 
 us with an interesting description of all the girls who 
 applied for the situation. At last a housemaid was 
 engaged to come in the next Saturday. 
 E 2 
 
52 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 " Why does she not come Thursday, so Mrs. 
 Allison will have someone to take my place at 
 once ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, a girl don't like to go to a place as soon as 
 she's engaged. A nice servant never does it," an- 
 swered the cook. 
 
 " And why not, if it will accommodate the mis- 
 tress ? " I demanded. 
 
 " Well," said Mary, " I can't tell ye. I don't know 
 as there's any pertickler reason, only they don't like 
 it. Why, the missus wanted me to come a week ago, 
 saying she was so put to without a cook ; but I 
 wouldn't do it. I don't approve of hurrying things 
 like that." 
 
 By the dim candlelight I could see a self-satisfied 
 smile on Mary's face, and I questioned her no more, 
 concluding that servants, as well as other people, had 
 a right to do things "on general principles" with- 
 out assigning, or even having, any reason for their 
 actions. 
 
 " I don't think I'll stay here after this year," re- 
 marked Annie, as she began to unbutton her boots. 
 
 " Why not ? " I asked. " Don't you like it ? " 
 
 " Of course I don't. Nobody could like such a 
 hard place. But that isn't the reason. I've been here 
 over a year now, and two years is long enough to 
 stop in any place, good or bad. You get used to 
 doing things the way to suit one missus, and, if you 
 stay too long, it's hard to learn to suit other missuses, 
 so I believe in changing round — that's my opinion." 
 
 Saying which, she threw her boots in the middle 
 of the floor, and put her head under the pillow, in- 
 stead of upon it. She always slept that way, and I 
 
In Cap and Apron. 53 
 
 suspected that it was done to soften the clanging of 
 the alarm-bell which rang out fiercely at six every 
 morning. I did not always follow Annie in her line 
 of reasoning, and I could not quite understand her 
 objections to stopping a long time even in a good 
 place ; but I put it down to the fact that she, like 
 the cook, acted sometimes " on general principles." 
 
 Annie, on the whole, was a good servant. She 
 took pride and interest in her work, and had at first 
 impressed me as being very conscientious. My faith 
 in this latter quality was a little shaken by an incident 
 that happened one day in the drawing-room. It was 
 before the cook came, and she was helping me to 
 wash some of the more expensive pieces of bric-a- 
 brac. I sat on the floor with a pail of water and a 
 cloth, cleaning some ivory and marble figures. I put 
 a small statue of Mercury into the pail, took it out, 
 and beheld that it was headless. I was bewildered, 
 for I had been particularly careful in the process, and 
 I knew I could not have knocked it against the pail. 
 As I sat with the head in one hand and the body in 
 the other, Annie startled me with, " The missus is 
 coming ! Hide it quick, or she'll see it ! " 
 
 " Of course, I shan't hide it," I retorted, angrily ; 
 and then Mrs. Allison came towards me. 
 
 " Oh, I forgot to tell you, Lizzie, that several of 
 these figures have been broken and glued together, 
 and ought not to be put in hot water. Lay it aside] 
 and I will mend it again." 
 
 o 
 
 Annie looked crestfallen and ashamed. Mrs. 
 Allison spoke pleasantly to me in those days. That 
 was before I had offended her by asking for better 
 breakfasts. Afterwards she sent me to " Coventry," 
 
54 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 and -never looked at me except with forbidding 
 brow. 
 
 Up to Wednesday I had escaped the scrubbing, 
 for, when I turned out the young ladies' rooms the 
 day before, I carefully arranged that twilight should 
 come on before I got to that part of the work. Then 
 the occupants were obliged to dress for dinner, and I 
 would be in the way. Besides, the floor must not be 
 damp when they went to bed, so they smilingly in- 
 formed me that I need "never mind" about it. From 
 that time I was their true friend, and when Miss 
 Allison lay on the bed the next day with a jumping 
 toothache I took my bottle of Pond's Extract to her 
 and insisted that frequent applications would help 
 her. In the evening, when she and Miss Blanche 
 went to the theatre, I whistled for a hansom and 
 helped them in with all the good grace imaginable, 
 stepping up in front and closing the doors very care- 
 fully, so as not to catch their dresses. I even ceased 
 to use " language " in my heart when pretty Miss 
 Blanche, who had operatic aspirations, went from 
 room to room screaming " a-a-ah " up and down 
 through all the different keys. Both of them always 
 wished me a cheery " Good-morning," even after I 
 was discharged, and I have only the most pleasant 
 recollections of them. 
 
 When, on Wednesday afternoon, the decree went 
 forth that I should take up all the rugs in the 
 drawing-room and scrub the floor, I felt that the evil 
 day could no longer be put off, though how I was to 
 carry through my commission was more than I knew. 
 I dared not confide my ignorance to anyone, lor 
 when I engaged with Mrs. Allison, I assured her that 
 
In Cap and Apron. 55 
 
 I had never been a servant, but had learned how to 
 work at home, which was true enough — at least, I 
 thought it was, for I knew the chapter headed 
 " Housemaids," in the book on " Servants' Duties," by 
 heart. But that chapter had said nothing about 
 scrubbing. I suppose the literary lady who wrote it 
 lived in a house where there was no scrubbing to be 
 done. Thus I was utterly in the dark as to how to 
 go at my task, and was obliged to follow my own 
 ideas on the subject. I took from my cupboard two 
 pails, one half full of soapy water, the other con- 
 taining fresh water for rinsing, and with flannel and 
 brush I started out to do or die, or both. From the 
 conversation with the charwoman, I had gathered 
 that it was proper to go on one's knees for the opera- 
 tion ; but she had said that a former servant in this 
 family had got housemaid's knee by kneeling on the 
 cold floors. It was not part of my plan to contract 
 the disease, and then I was afraid of soiling and 
 wetting my print dress, which I wished to keep fresh 
 and neat-looking for my next place. 
 
 In scrubbing that drawing-room I kept two ideas 
 in mind : first, to ward off housemaid's knee ; second, 
 to keep myself and costume out of the wet. So 
 pinning up my frock, I took the brush and assumed a 
 squatting position, hopping about from place to place. 
 I scrubbed a square yard at a time, then rinsed in 
 clean water and dried it, congratulating myself the 
 while that I was something of a Columbus in my 
 way. I had nearly finished, when, glancing toward 
 the folding-doors, I saw Mrs. Allison looking at me, 
 her large black eyes burning with anger. Had I 
 been on the ground-floor, I am sure I should have 
 
56 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 jumped from the window and precipitately departed 
 from my situation, so dangerous did the lady of the 
 house appear. 
 
 " Well, a pretty servant you make, I must say ! 
 Any girl with half a grain of sense would know how 
 
 MY SYSTEM OF SCRUBBING. 
 
 to scrub. You haven't even got general intelligence ! " 
 was the announcement that burst from her. Now 
 I had always been told that I had a large bump 
 of combativeness and was able to hold my own in 
 a dispute ; but this time I was speechless, feeling that 
 my position really was untenable. I had nothing to 
 say in my own defence ; but a sense of the ridiculous 
 overcame my prudence, and I smiled blandly in Mrs. 
 
In Cap and Apron. 57 
 
 Allison's face. She uttered a contemptuous, impatient 
 " Oh ! " and left me. 
 
 I hurriedly finished the room, put the rugs and 
 furniture in place, and, perched on the top of the 
 step-ladder, polished the looking-glasses with tissue- 
 paper. The steps were more than twice my own 
 height, and when I attempted to lift them from one 
 part of the room to another I found it a case of 
 " when Greek meets Greek," and was obliged to pull 
 them along after me as best I could. 
 
 That evening Annie again broached the needle- 
 work subject, fearing, I suppose, that I would go 
 on the morrow and leave her to clear out the mending- 
 basket I had postponed it as long as I well could, 
 without admitting point-blank that I was unable to 
 cope with the task, so I determined to do unto Annie 
 as I would have her do to me under similar circum- 
 stances. I remembered to have seen my mother put 
 a wooden ball into the toes and heels when she 
 darned stockings, and I asked Annie for the darning- 
 bali. She had never heard of such a thing. 
 
 " But I must have one, or I can't darn them," I 
 insisted. 
 
 She brought me an oval-shaped soda-water bottle. 
 
 " Maybe that'll do. It's sort of round," she said. 
 
 I thought it would, and, feeling that " well begun 
 is half done," I attacked the enemy, and darned to the 
 best of my ability. If the wearers of those stockings 
 got bad feet on account of the lumps and seams, I 
 can only say I am very sorry, and pledge my word 
 to avoid mending-baskets hereafter. 
 
 On Thursday I washed out all the dusters and 
 made my cupboard as tidy as possible preparatory 
 
58 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 to taking my departure. Mrs. Allison did not speak 
 to me again after the scrubbing episode. When at 
 six o'clock I informed her that I was ready to go, 
 she silently handed me six shillings, which was really 
 liberal, for she only owed me five shillings and four- 
 pence halfpenny. I thanked her and said good-bye, 
 but she did not answer. I do not doubt that long 
 before this she has realised the bad taste she dis- 
 played in thus showing her temper. 
 
 In my story of my life at Mrs. Allison's house 
 I have spoken of her only as a mistress. Some of 
 my friends who know her personally have assured 
 me that, socially and intellectually, she is a most 
 charming woman to meet. I did not go into 
 her house as an enemy or detective to pry into her 
 private affairs. Although many opportunities were 
 given me for doing this, I refused to take advantage 
 of them. I was a journalist seeking information on 
 a certain subject. She happened to answer my 
 advertisement, and was the first person who offered 
 me a place, which I accepted. I have given an 
 account of my experiences at her house as a servant ; 
 that is all. Mr. Allison, who is a man well known 
 in the professional world, was always pleasant with 
 me ; Mr. John Allison, the eldest son, treated me 
 politely, but always with dignity ; while the nice 
 ways of Master Tom won my admiration from the 
 first. Miss Kate, the youngest member of the family, 
 went to the country shortly after I arrived, and I 
 saw little of her. 
 
 When I left Mrs. Allison's house I went to a 
 jeweller's and left the six shillings she paid me to 
 be made into a bracelet. Then I jumped into a cab 
 
In Cap and Apron. 59 
 
 and was driven to Mrs. Brownlow's in Kensington, 
 
 where I was to enter another situation ; this time as 
 parlourmaid. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PARLOURMAID TO MRS. BROWNLOW. 
 
 MRS. BROWNLOW'S residence was a pretty little 
 house in Kensington, with the name " Elsmore 
 Lodge " done in gold letters over the highly-polished 
 dark green door. The brass bells, knocker, and 
 letter-box shone out like new mirrors, and, as I 
 stood waiting for my ring to be answered, I could 
 see my reflection in the door-plate. The great wide 
 hall into which I was admitted by the housemaid 
 seemed to have been newly carpeted for the winter, 
 and bright-coloured rugs were strewn about the floor. 
 The housemaid, who informed me that her name 
 was Alice, told me that Mrs. Brownlow had gone 
 out to dinner, and had instructed her to show me 
 to. my room. I had already, on the preceding Sun- 
 day, been shown through the house by Mrs. Brown- 
 low, who said that, of course, I must see the house 
 before I could tell whether I would like the situation ; 
 but Alice thought I had better take another look 
 over the place, and to humour her I followed her 
 from one room to another. 
 
 On either side of the front hall there was a large 
 room, one the dining-room, the other the library. 
 The dining-room was covered with Japanese matting, 
 with a large crumb-cloth in the centre, and other 
 
60 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 rugs scattered about. The furniture was of beautiful 
 old English oak and leather, and many pictures of 
 game, fruit, fish, horses, and dogs hung on the wall. 
 In a corner Alice called my attention to a lift, 
 connecting the kitchen and dining-room. She ex- 
 plained that, before laying the table, I was to put 
 all the china on the lift and draw it up, and that 
 the cook would send up the meats and vegetables 
 just as the family sat down. 
 
 " You'll have to toe the mark if you keep this 
 place," said she confidentially. " Missus sent the 
 last parlourmaid away because she didn't make the 
 glasses shine and broke so many dishes. Just before 
 she left she broke a big punch-bowl and a lot of 
 cups, and never told. Missus found it out a few 
 hours before she went, and took out a part of her 
 wages for it. It was a shame, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " Why, no, I don't think so. What right had she 
 to break the dishes and not say anything about it ? 
 And, besides, if it was her fault, she ought to pay 
 for them," I answered, for the moment putting myself 
 in Mrs. Brownlow's place and feeling that I should 
 have done the same thing under similar circum- 
 stances. 
 
 A very unpleasant look gathered on Alice's face 
 as I said it. 
 
 " Oh ! so you take the part of the missus against 
 the servants, do you ? I don't." 
 
 From that time I knew I had an enemy. 
 
 We went into the library, which was decorated 
 in Oriental style. There were pictures, books, news- 
 papers, magazines, two writing-desks, and a large 
 music-box in a corner, which, after Alice had set it 
 
In Cap and Apron. 6i 
 
 in motion, played me a merry welcome to my new 
 situation. Up the wide staircase, padded and carpeted 
 so that no footfalls could be heard, we went to the 
 drawing-room on the first floor. The room was not 
 so elegant nor so large as that at Mrs. Allison's, but 
 it was pretty and homelike, with the appearance of 
 having been furnished more for comfort than display. 
 Mrs. Brownlow's bedroom came next — a veritable 
 bower of pink. The dressing-table, I noticed, was at 
 the side of the window, and not in front, as is the 
 usual custom. Adjoining this room was the sewing- 
 room, which, Alice said, would also be used by the 
 maid as a sleeping-room, as Mrs. Brownlow had 
 made some changes in order to give me a bedroom 
 to myself. On the next floor was the bath-room 
 in which was a gas geyser, a bedroom for Miss 
 Brownlow, the daughter of the house, Mr. James 
 Brownlow's room, and two servants' rooms. The 
 room occupied by Alice and the cook was a large, 
 comfortable place with red ingrain carpet on the 
 floor. There were two toilet-tables and bureaus 
 combined, with separate washbowls, soap-cups, &c, 
 bright pictures on the walls, and no religious mot- 
 toes. Then I went into my own room, a snug little 
 place which Mrs. Brownlow had just fitted up 
 for me. It was very cosy, had fresh carpet, and a 
 nice clean set of single bedroom furniture. The little 
 bed had a good mattress and springs, and was covered 
 with a spotless white quilt. Under the mantel there 
 was a small gas-grate. Alice told me there were no 
 coal-fires in the house, and that even the cooking 
 was done by gas. Each room had a gas-stove in the 
 grate, and it was only required to strike a match 
 
62 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 to light the fires. She added, however, that, for some 
 reason, Mr. Brownlow did not quite like the gas-fires, 
 and was negotiating with a stove company to build 
 and put up a large furnace in the cellar, and thus 
 heat all the halls and rooms by registers, after the 
 American plan. On my first interview Mrs. Brown- 
 low had told me that the servants were allowed to 
 have fires in their rooms in the morning and evening, 
 and when changing their dresses in the afternoon, 
 provided they were always careful to turn off the gas 
 when they went to bed or left the room. 
 
 As I put away the few clothes I had brought with 
 me, Alice stood waiting for me. 
 
 " Where's your box ? " she asked, noticing my 
 very small handbag. 
 
 " It is at my lodgings in Camberwell. I thought 
 I wouldn't go to the expense of bringing it here till I 
 knew whether I would suit Mrs. Brownlow. I've 
 never been in service before, you know," was my 
 answer. 
 
 In the basement, Alice took me about and showed 
 me the various china cupboards, and the pantry where 
 I was to wash the glass and silver. As none of the 
 family were at home to dinner, I had no waiting at 
 the table. At eight o'clock we had our own dinner, 
 which consisted of a joint, potatoes, brussels sprouts, 
 and a boiled pudding. There were four of us — Sarah 
 the cook, Janette the French maid, Alice, and myself. 
 We had plenty of dinner, which was well-cooked and 
 nicely-served, and I learned that usually the family 
 and the servants had the same food. The table was 
 spread in a comfortable little room off the kitchen, 
 and the knives, forks, and spoons were not of the 
 
In Cap and Apron. 63 
 
 peculiar brassy variety supplied to the servants at 
 Mrs. Allison's. Sitting opposite to Alice, I had a 
 good opportunity to study her. She was tall, with a 
 pretty face and trim figure, but she had the appearance 
 of being treacherous and dishonest, and I wondered 
 how she had managed to remain in her situation so 
 long. Janette I liked very much better, and the cook 
 seemed a pleasant, good-natured sort of woman. 
 After dinner Alice went up-stairs to tidy the rooms, 
 and I remained in the kitchen until about half-past 
 nine. I watched the cook wash up the dishes, and 
 saw that she did the work after the manner of Annie 
 and the cook at Mrs. Allison's. The cooking utensils 
 were not washed at all, but put up on the scullery 
 table to remain until the next morning. The dishes 
 rattled together in the pan, and chip after chip came 
 of! through her careless manner of handling them. 
 
 When Mrs. Brownlow returned, I was asked to 
 go to her room. She was particularly kind in her 
 manner of treating me, not in a patronising way, 
 but as one woman talking to another who was less 
 fortunate than herself. Although she evinced more 
 interest in my previous history than had Mrs. Allison, 
 she asked all her questions with tactful delicacy. She 
 said she was anxious that I should think of her as 
 much in the light of a friend as a mistress, although 
 she paid me money for the work I was to do, and 
 expected it to be well done. She explained that in 
 employing me she was making an experiment, and, \{ 
 she found it a successful one, she would make an 
 entire change in her staff of servants, and engage 
 girls of education to take the places of the cook and 
 housemaid. 
 
64 . Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 U I have given you a bedroom alone," said 
 Mrs. Brownlow, " because I thought you would find 
 it much pleasanter to keep to yourself. You will 
 probably want it quiet for reading and writing in 
 the evening and on Sunday." 
 
 I fully appreciated Mrs. Brownlow's thoughtfulness 
 in regard to the bedroom, although I could not help 
 regretting that, under the circumstances, I would not 
 be able to hear the night gossip of the cook and 
 housemaid. Before leaving I was given the following 
 list of the parlourmaid's duties : — 
 
 " Rise at seven o'clock, and be ready for the 
 servants' breakfast at 7.15. Afterwards sweep and 
 dust the front hall and drawing-room, lay the table 
 for the nine o'clock breakfast, wait at table and clear 
 away, attend to the glass and silver, light gas-fires 
 in drawing- and dining-rooms, sweep and dust the 
 dining-room, clean the lamps, lay the table for one 
 o'clock luncheon, clear away, prepare for dinner and 
 wait at table. After each meal shake the crumb- 
 cloth, and answer the door during the day. Always 
 to be dressed in time for luncheon." 
 
 Besides this daily round, a part of each day in 
 the week was to be given to some special work, such 
 as turning out the drawing-room, dining-room, clean- 
 ing silver, &c. On Saturday I was to assist the 
 housemaid in airing and repairing the table and bed 
 linen, the needlework of the family being done by the 
 ladies' maid. I was to have an afternoon off each 
 week, and be allowed to go to morning or evening 
 service on Sunday, if I desired. On Sunday it was 
 arranged that each servant should have half the day 
 to herself, and the cook had every Sunday afternoon 
 
In Cap and Apron. 65 
 
 off, a mid-day dinner being served, and either Alice 
 or I preparing and clearing away the eight o'clock 
 supper. 
 
 Mrs. Brownlow's list did not terrify me as Mrs. 
 Allison's had done, for the amount of work required 
 was not unreasonable, and there was no starting 
 with the day's work without breakfast. Mrs. 
 Brownlow told me she had experienced considerable 
 trouble in regard to the cleaning of knives, blacking 
 of boots, and scrubbing the front step, each servant 
 declaring it was the other's place to do these things, 
 until finally she had procured the services of a 
 member of the Houseboy's Brigade, who came every 
 morning to do this work, while once a week a larger 
 boy from the same place washed all the windows in the 
 house. It seemed to me most disgraceful that there 
 should have been rioting in the kitchen over a few 
 knives and boots. With such a small family and 
 convenient house, three servants should have done 
 the work easily. I told Mrs. Brownlow that I was 
 perfectly willing to clean the knives and the boots, 
 but she only smiled and said — 
 
 " We will wait a few weeks and see how things 
 turn out." 
 
 That night, comfortable as my bed was, I did not 
 soon go to sleep, for Mrs. Brownlow's kind face and 
 gentle manners were always in my mind, and I 
 began to think over a plan by which I might supply 
 her with a good servant when I left, provided, of 
 course, everything should prove satisfactory on both 
 sides. 
 
 At 7.15 the next morning we sat down to the 
 kitchen breakfast, which consisted of fried bacon, 
 F 
 
66 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 potatoes, toast, and coffee. I complimented Sarah 
 on her tasty way of cooking, and she smiled benignly, 
 saying that she had been a professed cook for ten 
 years, and hoped she did know something about her 
 business. William Johnson, the brigade boy, came 
 in about 7.30, and the cook, remarking that she 
 supposed he was as hungry as usual, put a large 
 plate of bread-and-butter and a cup of coffee before 
 him with the knives and boots. I had seen hungry 
 boys before, but I really never came in contact with 
 a growing boy who had such a capacity for bread 
 and coffee as William Johnson. In six minutes he 
 had disposed of five large thick slices of bread and 
 three cups of coffee. 
 
 " Don't you have any breakfast before you go to 
 work ? " I asked. 
 
 "Yes'um, at half-past five, but I gets hungry 
 again," was his reply. 
 
 In half an hour I was ready to sweep the drawing- 
 room, while Alice started to clean the stairs and 
 landings. 
 
 " The other parlourmaid always swept the front 
 hall first, and I think it's the best way," she observed 
 as I opened the drawing-room door, with broom and 
 dustpan in hand. 
 
 - " I should say that was a very bad way," I 
 answered. "What is the use of my sweeping the front 
 hall while you sweep the stairs and landings above ? 
 Some of the dust would drop down, and you would 
 dirty it as fast as I cleaned it. You sweep while I 
 attend to the drawing-room, and I'll do the hall 
 afterwards." 
 
 She looked very snappish, and declared she did 
 
In Cap and Apron. 67 
 
 not approve of new-fangled notions, and what was 
 the difference anyhow, so long as I could say I had 
 done it ? 
 
 In laying the breakfast-table I found that all the 
 glasses were smeared and covered with finger-marks, 
 while the silver looked as if it had never been properly 
 washed. There was egg or paste, or something 
 of the kind, between the prongs of every fork. I 
 was aware that in many instances parlourmaids over- 
 came these difficulties by using their aprons as 
 towels ; but, not quite approving of that plan, I sent 
 the things down on the lift and washed them again. 
 After breakfast, looking on my list, I saw that Friday 
 was the day for cleaning the silver. Mrs. Brownlow 
 informed me that Clara, my predecessor, had always 
 left the powder in the crevices of the plate, declaring 
 she could not remove it, however much she brushed, 
 and added, " I hope you will find a way of getting it 
 off." After rubbing it I washed and brushed it in 
 hot water with soap and ammonia, which removed 
 every particle of white dust. Mrs. Brownlow was so 
 pleased with the result that she avowed her intention 
 of making me her deputy-housekeeper. 
 
 " You see," said she, " I am so interested in my 
 painting and music that I do not like to keep my 
 mind too much on household matters, but I do want 
 everything clean and nice." 
 
 I did not tell her how fully I appreciated her 
 situation, nor of my unfitness for the position of 
 housekeeper. 
 
 When I attended to the lamps, they looked as if 
 they had not been well trimmed and cleaned for the 
 past few months. The "wicks were crooked and 
 F 2 
 
6S Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 crusted, while the ventilating burners were com- 
 pletely filled up with lampblack and dirt. After 
 vainly trying to remove it with a pin and brush, it 
 occurred to me that the only possible way to get rid 
 of it would be to boil all the burners. So I put them 
 in a saucepan on the stove, with plenty of hot water 
 and soda, and in an hour they came out bright and 
 clean. As I was putting the chimneys in a basin 
 preparatory to washing them, Alice made some excuse 
 to come into the pantry, and said she never had seen 
 such goings on as stewing lamp-burners and putting 
 chimneys in water, which was sure to break them. 
 They should be cleaned with a cloth and chimney- 
 brush. As I paid no attention to her, she soon left 
 me, and expressed her opinion to the cook of " them 
 smart girls that knows so much." At dinner I had 
 the satisfaction of overhearing Mr. Brownlow remark 
 to his wife, "That girl's a jewel! See the chimney 
 how it shines, and not a particle of odour about the 
 lamp ! " 
 
 It was with considerable consternation that I 
 attempted to open the first bottle of wine at the 
 dinner-table. I had practised parlourmaiding to 
 some extent before I left home, and had proudly 
 acquired the knack of folding serviettes in the shape 
 of a slipper, but try as I would I had found myself 
 unable to manage a corkscrew. Had I been per- 
 mitted to go into the hall with the bottle, I think I 
 might have accomplished the feat a little more satis- 
 factorily. The cork broke off, and at last I was 
 obliged to push the remainder of it into the bottle, 
 and a part of the contents came whizzing up in my 
 face. After that accident it seemed to me everything 
 
In Cap and Apron. 6g 
 
 went wrong, and I several times had to stop and 
 ponder over which was my right hand and which my 
 left, and put myself exactly behind the person I wa? 
 serving before I ventured to put down a plate or a 
 knife and fork. I could have wept for joy when I 
 heard Mr. James Brownlow remark, " Mother, I don't 
 
 THE CONTENTS CAME WHIZZING UP IN MY FACE. 
 
 mind opening the wine hereafter. I think it is rather 
 hard work for a girl." 
 
 The next day, after I had opened the door for a 
 visitor, Mr. Brownlow met me in the hall, and said, 
 " Lizzie, do you know the difference between a friend 
 of the family and a bill-collector ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I think I do," I replied, remembering 
 that in my own experience I had often found a very 
 painful difference between the two. 
 
yo Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 " Well, now, you must not let any collectors get 
 into this house for the next month. I'm in Paris, 
 see ? Don't wait till they tell you what they want, 
 but you must be able to spot them on sight, and say 
 at once I'm not in London. That last girl of ours got 
 me in more trouble by her stupidity in letting tax- 
 gatherers and dressmakers and tailors in the house. 
 Said she didn't know how she was going to tell what 
 they wanted when they wouldn't give their business. 
 To be a good parlourmaid you must be a mind- 
 reader, and you look as if you could do something in 
 that line." 
 
 I bowed my acknowledgment of the compliment, 
 and promised to do my best. I knew that in order 
 to fulfil my part of the compact I must bring to play 
 all my native powers of discernment. If I had had 
 small tradespeople to deal with, my task would have 
 been an easy one ; or, if all bill-collectors had been 
 accommodating enough to wear pot-hats, I might 
 still have experienced no difficulty. Mrs. Brownlow 
 had told me, when she engaged me, that, after the 
 first month, she would increase my wages^and had let 
 drop a hint that her husband, a stockbroker in the 
 City, was at present a little short of money because of 
 the hard times in America, where he was largely 
 interested in certain securities ; so I had no difficulty 
 in understanding Mr. Brownlow's objection to a 
 particular class of visitors. 
 
 Half an hour after my conversation with the head 
 of the house the bell rang, and I opened the door to a 
 tall, handsome-looking man, having all the appear- 
 ance of belonging to the gentry. It was only about 
 10.30, and I could not believe the man had come to 
 
In Cap and Apron. 71 
 
 make a party call at that time in the morning, so 
 when he asked for Mr. Brownlow I said, " He's gone 
 to Paris ; but will you please tell me your business ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, it's not necessary ; I'll see Mrs. Brown- 
 low. She will do quite as well." 
 
 Now, I had been warned against men who would 
 not tell their business, and I said, "She's gone to 
 Paris, too, and won't be back for a month." 
 
 " Well, it's a fine performance ; that's all I've got to 
 say," was his answer, as he turned to go. 
 
 " Won't you leave your name ?" I asked. 
 
 " No," he replied, rather savagely, and walked out. 
 
 I congratulated myself on my prowess, and went 
 up-stairs to describe the man to Mrs. Brownlow, when 
 I discovered that I had turned away the wrong man. 
 Still, I was not disheartened by my first failure, and 
 after two or three days' practice I became quite an 
 expert in that line. The experience I thus gained 
 was not only of immense service to Mr. Brownlow, 
 but will probably prove of great value to me per- 
 sonally. 
 
 In a few days I had become quite accustomed to 
 my duties, and I felt that the position of parlour- 
 maid at Elsmore Lodge was not a hard one. Mrs. 
 Brownlow was one of the most considerate women I 
 had ever met, and tried in every way to make her 
 servants comfortable ; but neither the cook nor Alice 
 showed any appreciation of her kindness. Both of 
 them were continually on the defensive, and seemed 
 to believe that mistress and servant must necessarily 
 look upon each other as enemies. Sarah cooked well, 
 but her extravagance was appalling. In spite of Mrs. 
 Brownlow's order that all the small pieces of bread 
 
?2 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 should be used up for puddings and dressing, 
 Sarah allowed them to remain in the bread-box until 
 they moulded, and then threw them away ; while 
 sugar, potatoes, and cold meat disappeared with the 
 most astonishing rapidity. Alice aided and abetted 
 her in every possible way. I began to wonder if, after 
 all, good treatment was appreciated by many of the 
 girls who went out to service, and I decided that it 
 did not always follow that a kind mistress made a 
 good servant. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MY LAST DAYS IN SERVICE. 
 
 DURING my stay at Mrs. Brownlow's I discovered 
 that domestic labour, arranged in a reasonable manner, 
 was not in itself difficult work. Not having a taste 
 for household duties, and having had no experience 
 except that gained by practising some of the parlour- 
 maid's duties at home and a week's observation and 
 work at Mrs. Allison's, I was not, of course, so well 
 equipped as a well-trained domestic servant would 
 have been ; but, in spite of these drawbacks, I did the 
 work quickly and neatly, and Mrs. Brownlow informed 
 me that none of her former servants had suited her so 
 well. She began at once to plan how she might dis- 
 pense with ordinary domestics, and replace them by 
 young women who would take a genuine interest in 
 their work and render her something more than eye 
 service. Sarah was an excellent cook, and there was 
 no fault to be found with the food as it was prepared 
 
In Cap and Apron. 73 
 
 for the table ; but she was afflicted with a very common 
 complaint among cooks, laziness, and was continually 
 talking about the need of a kitchen-maid, although 
 the whole basement was conveniently fitted up, and 
 the cook's duties were so light that her mistress did 
 not feel disposed to hire an assistant for her. Mrs. 
 Brownlow had consented, at the cook's request, to 
 have only one set of meals prepared, except as 
 regarded the servants' breakfast, the kitchen breakfast 
 coming earlier, as a matter of course. At eleven they 
 were allowed a light luncheon, and at half-past one, 
 after the family had lunched, the servants ate the 
 same food as was served at the dining-room table, and 
 for the night dinner it was arranged that they could 
 dine immediately after dessert was served. Although 
 these changes in the usual routine of servants' meals 
 were made to please the cook and lighten her labours, 
 she did not show any appreciation of the favour, and 
 positively refused to scrub the doorstep, clean the 
 knives, or black the boots/which she declared was not 
 " her place," while the housemaid insisted that she did 
 not " bargain for that business." 
 
 Mrs. Brownlow was a woman of gentle, even 
 temper, who took for her motto, " Live peaceably 
 with all men, if it be possible," and so to preserve any- 
 thing like the semblance of order in her household, 
 she hired the brigade boy to attend to these things, 
 and was constantly putting herself to trouble and 
 expense for the sake of her servants. She had a 
 decided talent for artistic work, and was interested in 
 music, and, as she explained to me, she did not care 
 to devote her whole attention to the management of 
 her house. Her daughter, a young lady of about 
 
74 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 twenty, had but recently made her debut in society, 
 and had literary aspirations, as she one day confided 
 to me. She did not wish to turn housekeeper, and the 
 French maid did not understand enough English to 
 act as deputy for her mistress. If the servants had 
 been of the sort who would perform their duties con- 
 scientiously, Mrs. Brownlow need have devoted only 
 one hour each morning ta overlooking the house- 
 keeping ; but, as it was, they took advantage of her 
 kind and easy way, and the two chief qualities dis- 
 played by the cook and housemaid were indolence 
 and extravagance. 
 
 " Why do you not wipe the hot- water cans before 
 you set them in the hall ? " I said one morning to 
 Alice, who had been distributing the water at the 
 different bedroom doors. 
 
 " Because it's too much trouble," she answered, 
 with a toss of her head. 
 
 " But you will ruin the carpet," I insisted. 
 
 " Well, it's not your carpet, so you will please 
 mind your own business," she retorted. 
 
 Now, what could be done with a girl so perfectly 
 devoid of honour ? I asked her how she expected 
 to keep a situation, and how she could get a character, 
 if she did not try to please her mistress. 
 
 " Well, I'd make a time if she wouldn't give me 
 a character," was her answer, as she went to the next 
 floor dripping water over the stairs. 
 
 And she did " make a time ; " for the very next 
 day Mrs. Brownlow, losing all patience with her 
 because she would not turn the mattresses or even 
 take the quilts entirely off before making the beds, 
 said, "Alice, I cannot put up with your careless 
 
In Cap and Apron. 75 
 
 habits any longer, and I wish you would look for a 
 new situation. I give you notice to-day ■ 
 
 Alice replied, " I'll go to-day if you 11 give me a 
 month's wages and let me have a character." 
 
 "It will be impossible for me to give you a 
 character, unless it is a very bad one," answered her 
 
 mistress. 
 
 And then the "time" commenced. Alice threat- 
 ened her with all the dreadful consequences imagin- 
 able • said she knew certain things she would tell all 
 over' London, and accused Mrs. Brownlow of taking 
 the bread out of her mouth. She did not become quiet 
 until Mr. James Brownlow came in and gave her what 
 he described as a "dressing down," when she slunk 
 away to the kitchen, whimpering about the cruelties 
 of mistresses, and giving her opinion in no gentle 
 terms of certain kinds of parlourmaids. 
 
 However, she did not leave that day, probably 
 deciding that it would be better to remain her month 
 out with the hope that she might, after all, obtain 
 the' "character" to help her secure another situation. 
 On Sunday she took her half-day off, going out im- 
 mediately after breakfast, and I did the bedroom 
 work that morning. Everything was much more 
 convenient and comfortable than it had been at 
 Mrs Allison's. Two of the rooms being on the 
 same floor with the bathroom, the filling of the water- 
 pitchers was an easy matter, and I had only to go 
 down one flight of stairs to carry water to Mrs. 
 Brownlow's room. With the assistance of Janette 
 I was through all the work by eleven o'clock, and 
 was able to rest until it was time to lay the table 
 for the two o'clock dinner. In the afternoon I 
 
76 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 remained in my room, attending to some newspaper 
 correspondence, and writing a long letter to the 
 Editor of the Weekly Sun. I requested him to 
 look up for me a superior young woman, thoroughly 
 domesticated, who would be willing to take a situation 
 as parlourmaid in Mrs. Brownlow's house when I left 
 the following Thursday, as he knew I must do. I 
 gave a full description of the family, the house, and a 
 list of the duties expected of the parlourmaid. Then 
 I made arrangements to have a telegram sent me on 
 Wednesday requesting my presence in the City that 
 afternoon on important business, which would appear 
 to give me a plausible excuse for resigning my situa- 
 tion. 
 
 That night I slept the sleep of the just, and 
 awoke Monday morning feeling fortified against all 
 the attacks of Alice, my enemy. We were engaged 
 all day in preparing for Mrs. Brownlow's recep- 
 tion, which was to be given in the evening. 
 Two extra servants were hired to answer the door 
 and assist in waiting on the guests, who began to 
 arrive about half-past nine. At twelve o'clock I was 
 serving punch and sweets in the drawing-room, and 
 was getting on famously, when I heard someone 
 exclaim under his breath, " Well, my eyes ! " and, 
 looking towards the speaker, I recognised an ac- 
 quaintance, a well-known London publisher. In 
 spite of my consternation, I was rather amused at 
 the look of bewilderment on his face ; for he knew 
 nothing of the experiment I was making, and 
 two weeks before I had entertained him in my 
 own home. My cap and apron had not disguised 
 me as much as I had hoped, and, knowing the 
 
In Cap and Apron. yy 
 
 proclivity of the male sex to gossip, I began to pull 
 my wits together to plan a way to prevent a catas- 
 trophe and save myself from detection. When I 
 went to the dining-room for further supplies, I hur- 
 riedly wrote on a slip of paper, " You don't know 
 me, understand," and, returning to the drawing-room, 
 I slipped the note into his hand as I passed him a 
 plate of sandwiches. Then he was seized with 
 sudden convulsions of laughter, which nearly made 
 me lose my equilibrium, but I felt sure that he was 
 a true friend and would not tell when he understood 
 my position. Later I opened the door for him, and 
 as he passed me he whispered, " What's it for ? " and 
 I answered, " A book for you to publish," whereupon 
 he left the house and jumped into a hansom, hum- 
 ming " Oh, my Mary Ann." 
 
 I seemed to be fated to have romantic adventures 
 at Elsmore Lodge. Tuesday night I went to bed 
 at the usual time, 10.30, and I thought I had only 
 slept a few minutes when I was awakened by the 
 ding-a-ling of the front-door bell. Lighting a match, 
 I discovered that it was three o'clock. The house 
 was perfectly quiet except for the bell, which 
 seemed to be summoning me down-stairs unto 
 dreadful things I knew not of. To say that I was 
 afraid to go to the door only mildly expresses my 
 feelings. My room was a back one, so I could not 
 first look out of the window and inspect the bearing 
 of the visitor. Finally I plucked up a small amount 
 of courage, donned my dress and slippers, and with 
 a night-lamp I started down-stairs, trying to shame 
 myself into bravery. Was I not a journalist ? Ha 
 I not bearded many a lion in his den, and should 
 
78 
 
 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 now tremble at being obliged to go to the door at 
 three o'clock in the morning ? It was of no use ; 
 the further down-stairs I got, the more my knees 
 knocked together from very fear, and I had to admit 
 to myself that I was nothing but a very timid woman,, 
 after all. Then I thought of a way by which I could 
 view the ringer of the bell at a distance before open- 
 ing the door, and I went into the library, noiselessly 
 
 THERE ON THE STEP STOOD MR. JAMES BROWNLOW." 
 
 unbolted and drew up the window, and looked out. 
 There on the step stood Mr. James Brownlow, 
 ringing the bell with one hand and with the other 
 vainly trying to insert the key in the lock. I took 
 in the situation at once. He had been at the Savage 
 Club. I quietly closed the window again and opened 
 the door, uttering not a word and trying my best to 
 look respectful and sedate. " Thank you. Don't 
 
In Cap and Apron. 79 
 
 mention it to anybody," he said, passing up-stairs, 
 while I fastened and bolted the door. So there I 
 was, with a secret on my soul, and not allowed to 
 tell it to anybody ! How I should have enjoyed 
 repeating the story to one of his brother Savages ; 
 but that was impossible, so I had to content myself 
 to keep it until I got out of service, knowing that 
 then I could unburden myself to the public. 
 
 I became quite an expert in laying and waiting 
 on the table, and I grew proud of my skill in making 
 it look beautiful with bright china and silver. When 
 I took off the table-cloth I was always careful to 
 fold it in the same creases. I used a brush in clean- 
 ing out the crevices of the cut-glass tumblers and 
 dishes. I made such an improvement in their 
 appearance that they elicited the admiration of all 
 the family, especially of Mr. James Brownlow, who 
 took frequent occasion to compliment me on the 
 improved condition of things in general, and even 
 went so far as to say that he thought the most sen- 
 sible employment for all poor girls was domestic 
 service, for which work I seemed particularly fitted. 
 I did not feel at liberty to argue the point with him 
 at that time, nor did I attempt to disabuse his mind 
 of his very pleasant impression. I only thought that 
 if I, in the face of so many difficulties, was able to 
 satisfactorily perform the duties of a parlourmaid, 
 what could not a girl with inclination and training 
 do? 
 
 Miss Mary Brownlow took quite a fancy to me, 
 and one day broached the subject of my being her 
 personal attendant and companion — a sort of private 
 secretary for her while she was engaged in writing 
 
80 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 various newspaper and magazine articles, which, so 
 far as I could determine, were generally returned to 
 her in the stamped envelope she enclosed. I told 
 her it was impossible for me to hold such a position, 
 that my handwriting was neither beautiful nor easily 
 read. Then she suggested that I should learn type- 
 writing and take dictation from her, while I was 
 obliged to use all my self-control to keep back a 
 smile, wondering what her astonishment would be 
 if she could see me a week later writing up my 
 experiences at her home on my own beloved 
 typewriting machine. 
 
 " Oh, I could never learn, I am sure, and I would 
 not like to be a secretary. I'd rather be a parlour- 
 maid," I said. 
 
 In the kitchen everything went at sixes and 
 sevens. Alice, although less impertinent in her treat- 
 ment of her mistress, vented her spite on me, and 
 tried to the best of her ability to drive me mad with 
 her constant insinuations that I was to blame for her 
 discharge, and threatened to pay me up for it some 
 day. She said she had lost two of her handkerchiefs 
 the day before, and vaguely hinted that I used some 
 just like them, till, what with the loud talking, 
 bickering, and general uproar, I feared my head 
 would completely give way. As it was, I was seized 
 with a violent headache, which Mrs. Brownlow ob- 
 served, and sent me up-stairs to lie down, while Miss 
 Mary Brownlow — dear heart ! — tried to doctor me 
 with the laying on of hands and brown paper satu- 
 rated in vinegar. It was her own remedy, and she 
 recommended it very highly. It really did me good, 
 and at luncheon I was up and about again. A 
 
In Cap and Apron. Si 
 
 few hours later, when we were having our tea, the 
 door-bell rang, and I jumped up to answer it. 
 
 " Go out in the area, and see who it is before you 
 go up. Maybe it's only a tramp," said the cook. 
 
 " But perhaps it's one of Mrs. Brownlow's friends, 
 and suppose she looked down into the area and saw 
 me. Do you think that would appear nice?" 
 
 " Well, do as you like. I only tried to save you 
 steps," was her ungracious reply. 
 
 This going to the area to view a visitor from a 
 distance is a very common practice among parlour- 
 maids and menservants. I have often noticed it at 
 houses where I have called. There cannot possibly 
 be any excuse for it in a well-ordered house, yet I 
 have seen it among servants of the very best people. 
 I was discouraged with trying to instil right prin- 
 ciples of action into Alice's and Sarah's minds. It 
 was sowing seed on stony ground. The motto which 
 they seemed to think was the proper one between 
 kitchen and drawing-room was "War to the knife." 
 The morning after the entertainment Alice chipped 
 off a piece of a very handsome and expensive cut- 
 glass dish, and said nothing to Mrs. Brownlow about 
 it, although I begged her to do so. It placed me in 
 rather an awkward position, for I did not wish to gain 
 the reputation of being a tale-bearer, nor did I think 
 it right for Mrs. Brownlow to remain in ignorance of 
 the affair. In the afternoon she came down to the 
 pantry to show me about rearranging the glass and 
 china cupboards, and noticed the broken dish at 
 once. She knew that she had sent Alice down-stairs 
 with it, and, of course, concluded she had broken it ; 
 but when Alice was questioned she stoutly denied it, 
 G 
 
%2 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 saying it was whole when she put it in the cupboard. 
 But her mistress had occasion to remember other 
 incidents, and, although she refrained from openly 
 accusing Alice, I could see that she knew who was 
 the culprit. 
 
 The cook was a very intelligent sort of person, 
 well versed in her profession, and, had she cared to do 
 so, she might have made a valuable servant. When 
 she felt so inclined, she was able to manufacture the 
 most delicious little side-dishes from small bits of 
 meat, fish, or other things left over, though she 
 oftener chose to present such things to her sister, who 
 was almost a daily visitor in the kitchen. Sarah gave 
 me occasional hints in regard to certain household 
 work. She showed me how to clean the water carafes 
 by the use of shot, how to restore gilt frames by 
 rubbing them with turpentine, and she also informed 
 me that I could keep the silver bright for a long time 
 by placing a lump of camphor in the silver chest. I 
 noticed that she always kept an oyster shell irr the 
 tea-kettle, which, she explained, collected all the sedi- 
 ment that usually gathers in such kettles and often 
 makes the water look muddy. If she had only done 
 as well as she knew, she would have indeed proved to 
 be " a treasure." 
 
 Wednesday, a telegram addressed to " Elizabeth 
 Barrows " came to Elsmore Lodge. It was from my 
 solicitor, and read, " Come to my office at once. 
 Important news concerning your father's relatives. 
 Must go to Liverpool." Thinking to prepare Mrs. 
 Brownlow for my resignation, I showed her the 
 message. 
 
 " Perhaps it is good news for you. How nice that 
 
In Cap and Apron. 83 
 
 would be ! though I would not like to have you leave 
 me," she said, and then told me I might go to the 
 City at once. 
 
 I went to the office of the Weekly Sun. There I 
 met a sensible young woman, named Lucy Atkins, 
 the daughter of a physician with whom one of 
 the members of the staff had been acquainted. She 
 was refined and quiet, but tall and strong in 
 appearance, and she assured me that she was 
 particularly well versed in all matters connected with 
 domestic work. I promised to use my influence to 
 get the situation for her. I returned to Mrs. 
 Brownlow, and told her I had received news which 
 necessitated my presence in Liverpool, and that I was 
 likely to come into the possession of a small yearly 
 income, which would do away with the necessity of 
 my remaining in service. Had it been possible, I 
 should have preferred to tell the whole truth to Mrs. 
 Brownlow ; but I knew that could not be done for the 
 present, and I was obliged to invent an excuse for 
 leaving her. Then I told her that, appreciating her 
 kind treatment, and knowing what a comfortable 
 situation a girl might find with her, I had endeavoured 
 to get her another servant in my place — not a servant 
 of the ordinary kind, but a woman of intelligence, 
 thoroughly domesticated, and able to perform the 
 duties much better than I had done. Mrs. Brown- 
 low was kindness itself, and the whole matter was 
 quickly arranged. I telegraphed for Lucy Atkins to 
 call, and she came that evening for an interview. 
 The next morning she brought her box and entered 
 upon the situation, and I spent the day in showing 
 her what I knew of the work. It happened that she 
 G 2 
 
84 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 had two friends, a widow and her daughter, who 
 wished a place together, the mother as cook-house- 
 keeper and the daughter as housemaid or parlour- 
 maid, and Mrs. Brownlow wrote, asking them to 
 call on her with the object of taking them into her 
 service if she was suited. When I was ready to leave, 
 Mrs. Brownlow offered me my week's wages, which I 
 refused to take, asking her to give the money to some 
 other girl who would need it more than I. When I 
 said good-bye, she told me to call on her as soon as 
 possible and tell her all about myself and how I was 
 getting on. I said that I would do so, and I fully 
 intended to keep my promise, and explain the whole 
 matter to her in the near future. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MERITS OF DOMESTIC SERVICE. 
 
 WHEN I left Mrs. Brownlow's I went at once to 
 Camberwell to give up the lodgings I had been 
 supposed to occupy, and to instruct the lodging-house 
 keeper as to what course she was to pursue in case 
 further inquiries were made concerning " Elizabeth 
 Barrows." I found four letters awaiting me, each one 
 offering me a situation if, after an interview, my 
 appearance and qualifications were satisfactory. But 
 I was obliged to give up all ideas of remaining longer 
 in service, as there was other work requiring my 
 attention. For the next few days I took advantage 
 of every opportunity to interview mistresses and 
 servants, trying to discover the rights and wrongs 
 
In Cap and Apron. 85 
 
 on both sides of the question. Now, having given 
 much time and thought to the question of domestic 
 service, I am brought to ask myself, " What have I 
 learned by my two weeks spent in service ? " I had 
 first become interested in the subject through a con- 
 versation with a Camberwell sewing-girl, as I stated 
 in my first chapter, and then I had always contended 
 that domestic work was not in itself degrading, and 
 that there was no reason why the women of the 
 lower classes only should go out to service. I 
 wished to find out for myself if there was anything 
 incompatible between refinement and domestic service, 
 and I went out as a journalist, seeking information, 
 with the intention of giving my personal experiences. 
 I did not start with the idea that all mistresses 
 were tyrants and all servants badly-treated slaves, and 
 I do not set myself up as the champion of the " poor 
 servant-girl." I am just as much inclined to take the 
 part of the long-suffering mistress. In fact, from 
 what I have seen, I have come to the conclusion that 
 there are as many ill-treated mistresses as servants in 
 London. I found Mrs. Allison to be an unjust and 
 unreasonable mistress, demanding more work of her 
 servants than she had any right to expect. With 
 such a large and inconvenient house as hers, she 
 needed to keep at least two strong, healthy house- 
 maids to do the work properly. Had I, in my unfit- 
 ness for the position, been the only one who had been 
 weighed in the balance and found wanting, I should 
 not thus take occasion to advise her ; but Annie, who 
 was a girl accustomed to hard work from her child- 
 hood, had been obliged to exchange her place as 
 housemaid for what she thought might be the lighter 
 
86 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 duties of parlourmaid, and her predecessor had 
 worked herself into the hospital. Remembering this, 
 I feel that I am right in saying that Mrs. Allison is 
 not considerate in her treatment of her servants, 
 neither as regards the work she requires of them nor 
 the kind of food with which she supplies them. I am 
 not now referring to the board wages she allowed, 
 but to the meals which she ordered the cook to 
 prepare for them. A breakfast of bread-and-butter 
 and coffee is not a proper one for a servant. In fact, 
 I do not believe anyone could accomplish satisfactory 
 work on such fare, unless blessed with a very delicate 
 and limited sort of appetite. The noon dinner at Mrs. 
 Allison's was not so bad. It usually consisted of a 
 joint, potatoes, bread, and pudding, but that was the 
 only good meal her servants were given. For supper 
 they had bread and cheese, day after day and week 
 after week. It is not an excuse for Mrs. Allison to 
 say that thousands of girls would be glad to have 
 bread and cheese all the year round. I am aware 
 that many women are starving in London, but that 
 does not justify a woman in neglecting to look after 
 the wants of those in her employ. Mistresses, hiring 
 servants, promise to pay them a certain wage and 
 board. Shall they give their housemaids a piece of 
 dry bread and say, " Take and eat it, and be thankful ; 
 remembering that many girls are very hungry in the 
 East-End and have not even a crust " ? 
 
 Mrs. Brownlow, on the other hand, was kind 
 and considerate with her servants. She gave them too 
 much liberty, and thought more of their comfort than 
 of her own well-being. Her house had been fitted up 
 with a view of making the work light and easy of 
 
In Cap and Apron. 87 
 
 accomplishment, and three servants should have done 
 all the work and had plenty of leisure for rest and 
 recreation. Alice and the cook were most ungrateful 
 and neglectful, and did not in any way endeavour to 
 please. So in the face of all this, it can readily be 
 seen that I have no reason to pose as the defender 
 of the London servant-girls ; neither am I prepared 
 to condemn them all, and try to push them out of 
 their situations and fill their places with another class 
 of women. 
 
 Still, with this vexing servant problem becoming 
 more and more important every year, it would seem 
 that something should be done to bring about a 
 change. There are many young women now em- 
 ployed as servants who are a disgrace to their trade. 
 They have no capacity for domestic work, and are 
 perfectly devoid of ideas as to the best way of 
 performing their duties. Besides having no reasoning 
 faculties, they have no sense of honour, and seem 
 to be unable to appreciate their unfitness for such 
 service. Just what they would be able to do, and 
 do well, is something I have not discovered, if, indeed, 
 there is any room at all for them on this planet. 
 It may be that they originally had a talent for 
 something ; but, if so, it must long ago have been 
 wrapped in a napkin and buried deep down in the 
 earth. 
 
 Then there are girls who are eminently fitted for 
 housework — those whose quiet inclinations would 
 lead them to domestic labour as a means of liveli- 
 hood, except for the foolish idea that in doing so 
 they would demean themselves. So, down in the 
 East-End, in the City, and in every direction of this 
 
88 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 great London, they are wearing out body and soul 
 with sewing, writing in offices, factory work, and 
 doing other things where the hours are many and 
 the wages small, but prating ever of their " liberty n 
 and "independence." If they get sufficient food to 
 keep them alive and a mere covering for their bodies, 
 it is all they can ever expect ; for they are ordinary, 
 commonplace sort of women, these toilers, and do 
 not look forward to being experts. Many of them 
 would make good cooks and housemaids — some of 
 them have a special talent for just such work — but 
 they do not think of going out to work. Why? 
 Because they must give up their " liberty." And in 
 what does their present liberty consist ? So far as I 
 can see, it seems to be liberty to starve. 
 
 There are young women — daughters of genteel, 
 but poor parents — living at home, a burden to their 
 families, doing nothing to lighten the care of their 
 overworked fathers, sitting idly by the window doing 
 fancy work, perhaps, waiting and watching for what ? 
 — a husband. There do not seem to be enough 
 husbands in England to go around, and to many 
 of these girls the desired deliverer never turns up ; 
 they live on their perfectly useless lives, a burden 
 to everyone about them. Why have they not been 
 trained to some sort of work and qualified to take 
 care of themselves? Some of them would make 
 excellent cooks and houseworkers if they had proper 
 training. Perhaps they already know how to per- 
 form certain household duties, but to earn money 
 by doing that work for other people they imagine 
 would be degrading. 
 
 And now I come to a very important phase of 
 
In Cap and Apron. 89 
 
 this subject, that of the necessity for thorough training 
 for domestic work. I know that the orthodox belief 
 is that all women are naturally domesticated— that 
 they come into the world expressly to be wives, 
 mothers, and housekeepers — and when an occasional 
 woman seems not to get the opportunity to take 
 such a position, something has gone wrong in the 
 universe, and the laws have all got entangled. From 
 what I know of womankind, I am convinced that 
 many women are in no way fitted for domestic 
 work, and would only be miserable if they attempted 
 it, although their incapacity for household work and 
 management does not necessarily prevent their being 
 excellent wives and mothers. I will admit that many 
 girls do have a special talent for cooking, sweeping, 
 and dusting; but even they need to be drilled and 
 instructed, just as a person who is a natural artist, 
 musician, or writer needs training for the work. It 
 all the domestic arts were taught in private and 
 public schools, an opportunity would be given to 
 aspirants in this line to go on and perfect them- 
 selves ; while, of course, those whose tastes did not 
 lead them in such direction, should not be obliged 
 to take up the study. The cooking schools that have 
 already been started in London are accomplishing a 
 vast amount of good, but free schools for instruction 
 in every department of household work are much 
 needed. In advocating these schools I do not 
 undervalue home-training. Many young women 
 have ample opportunity to go down into their own 
 mothers' kitchens and take lessons in domestic 
 economy; but there are hundreds of girls who 
 have no homes and are unable to do this, and it 
 
90 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 is for them especially that such schools are in de- 
 mand. 
 
 It may be argued that with the influx of a higher 
 class of women into domestic service, all the present 
 servants will be thrown out of employment, and thus, 
 while doing good to some, a great evil will be done 
 to others. This is not likely to be the case, because 
 the demand for good work is much greater than 
 the supply, and there is room for both. Those men 
 and women who insist that a person employed by 
 them must necessarily be beneath them, and con- 
 stantly show them deference as to a superior order 
 of beings, will doubtless always cling to the present 
 class of servants ; and then ladies who are already 
 suited, and have no reason to dismiss their servants, 
 are not likely to make a change. Thus it will be 
 only the bad servants who will find it impossible to 
 secure situations. 
 
 Another difficulty that may present itself is that 
 it would be unpleasant for girls of refinement to 
 be thrown in contact with servants of a lower grade 
 in the same household. The only way out of this 
 difficulty would be for every lady to employ only 
 one class of domestic help. I can understand how 
 an educated girl, obliged to work in the com- 
 panionship of such girls as Annie and Alice, 
 would find her position a most unhappy one. As 
 a journalist out on an adventure, I was interested in 
 studying them, and in that way my association with 
 them was not so unpleasant ; but, had I remained a 
 servant at Mrs. Brownlow's or Mrs. Allison's, the 
 society of the other servants would have made me 
 utterly miserable, and they would have cared no 
 
In Cap and Apron. 91 
 
 more for my companionship than I for theirs, as we 
 had little in common. Ladies employing domestic 
 helps would realise this, and so choose the kind of 
 women they wished to have in their houses. I can see 
 nothing in the work itself that would make it dis- 
 tasteful to girls of genteel birth and rearing who 
 have domestic tendencies. In a house properly fitted 
 up with the conveniences and comforts of modern 
 life the work is not drudgery, and I think there is 
 as much demand in this line for education and 
 scientific thought as in the majority of other callings. 
 Now, I am not asking that all London be torn 
 down and rebuilt to make room for a new order of 
 servants. Houses like Mrs. Allison's might be made 
 convenient by the expenditure of a few pounds 
 in putting in lifts from the basement to the first 
 floor, and fitting the bedrooms with hot- and cold- 
 water pipes, which would do away with the necessity 
 of carrying heavy trays and water-cans up and down 
 the stairs. By doing this, the number of servants 
 required would be reduced to almost half, so that 
 it would be a matter of economy to make these 
 improvements. The method of heating the houses 
 might also be changed with great advantage. The 
 insertion of hot-air furnaces or gas-grates would not 
 entail much expense. There would not only be less 
 work for servants, but a great stride would be made 
 in the matter of cleanliness. It would not be neces- 
 sary to heat the whole house up to the boiling-point, 
 as Americans are accused of doing. The heat would 
 be more easily regulated than with coal-fires, and, 
 when the change was once made, there would be a 
 large saving in the price of fuel. 
 
92 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 In advocating this change in domestic workers, 
 I do not, by any means, announce myself as being 
 in favour of what is now known as the " lady-help." 
 All the " lady-helps " I have met have been too much 
 afraid of soiling their hands and hurting their dignity 
 to accomplish good work. Quite recently one applied 
 at my home for a situation, and her first demand 
 was that she should be made a " member of the 
 family." I explained that such a thing would be 
 impossible, and she showed the greatest amazement 
 when I informed her that on my " at-home " day 
 she was expected to wait on my visitors, not to chat 
 with them, and when told that she must serve the 
 meals, instead of joining us at the family dinner, her 
 anger knew no bounds. She went off in a huff, 
 saying that she would not be a servant to her in- 
 feriors. It is this ridiculous way of looking at things 
 that has created a prejudice against "lady-helps." 
 Such help is an impossibility in a well-ordered house. 
 The educated woman who engages as a domestic 
 must understand that there is no question as to her 
 inferiority or superiority. If she. works for a woman 
 who is far below her socially and intellectually, she 
 may retain her self-respect just the same. Her 
 employer — I would abolish the terms "master" and 
 " mistress " in this connection, as savouring of slavery 
 days — does not ask her to become her companion or a 
 member of the family. Such an arrangement might 
 prove very unpleasant on either side. It is simply a 
 business arrangement, a question of employer and 
 employee. In answer to my advertisement for a 
 situation, I received a few letters from women who 
 wished me to be a " daughter " to them ; but, as I had 
 
In Cap and Apron. 93 
 
 not advertised for a mother, I considered such pro- 
 positions in very bad taste, and felt sure that no 
 intelligent women would have written me such letters. 
 The educated housemaid would be employed for the 
 same purpose as the uneducated one. Her business 
 is to sweep the floor, make the beds, and do other 
 household work, just the same as the other class 
 would do. No, not the same either, for she should do 
 her work better. The educated parlourmaid will not 
 sit down at the family dinner ; she is hired to wait at 
 the table. Her employer is under no obligations to 
 invite her to sit in her boudoir or introduce her to her 
 friends. She is paid money for value received. Each 
 must respect the other. That is the whole thing in a 
 nutshell. I believe that if educated women would 
 take up this matter in a proper way great good would 
 come of it, not only to themselves, but to the " work- 
 ing-girls " of London. 
 
 And what shall be done about the cap and apron, 
 the "Yes, ma'am," and the "No, sir"? If I were 
 in service the matter of cap and apron would be of 
 little importance to me so long as the costume was 
 becoming. I cannot see why exception should be 
 taken to such a very pretty bit of headgear as the 
 ruffled cap. The girl in the cap looks much neater 
 than the one without it, and it seems to be par- 
 ticularly appropriate for domestic work. During 
 my two weeks in service my self-respect did not 
 diminish in the least. Yet I think that if some 
 members of the new order of house and parlourmaids 
 insist on the abolition of the cap, they will find as 
 many ladies who will not make it a question of prime 
 importance. Surely, no one going out as a cook 
 
94 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 would object to wearing a head covering which is 
 merely indicative of neatness while preparing the 
 food. So far as the apron is concerned, a sensible 
 girl will see at a glance that it is a positively necessary 
 article of apparel, and is no more a " badge " of 
 anything demeaning than is the small silk or white 
 apron often worn by ladies when doing fancy work. As 
 for the " ma'am " and the " sir/' I think we might 
 dispense with them without much loss, so long as 
 proper respect is shown on both sides. A lady 
 employing a person whom she knew was her social 
 and intellectual equal would naturally expect to make 
 certain changes in little things like this, and the 
 improved kind of service would, I am sure, more than 
 make up for the loss of a " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 What about " followers " ? Shall young ladies 
 employed as domestics be obliged to walk on the 
 street or go in the parks in order to meet their friends 
 and sweathearts ? Certainly not. They must have 
 the use of a comfortable sitting-room, where they may 
 receive visitors on certain afternoons or evenings, the 
 number of their callers and the length of their stay 
 being kept, of course, within the bounds of reason. 
 The present class of servant-girls have much cause for 
 complaint on this score. To stipulate that a girl shall 
 have no visitors is as unkind as it is unreasonable and 
 dangerous. A young woman servant is quite likely 
 to have friends of both sexes, and it is probable that 
 she is " keeping company." To compel her future 
 husband to hang over the area-fence whistling for her 
 to come out, or to oblige her to go to the park and sit 
 on the benches in order to have a talk with him, is 
 not only inconsiderate, it is almost indecent. She 
 
In Cap and Apron 95 
 
 should be allowed to receive him once a week or once 
 a fortnight in the servant's hall. It is not difficult to 
 arrange this matter satisfactorily if reason is shown 
 on the part of both employer and employed. 
 
 However, taking service as it is at present, I 
 think that the position of a domestic servant with 
 a reasonable mistress and in a conveniently-arranged 
 house is far superior to that of the sewing-girl, the 
 factory-girl, or the struggling stenographer and book- 
 keeper in the City. There are hundreds of places 
 like Mrs. Brownlow's, where employment can be 
 found for girls who are not receiving the much- 
 discussed " living wage/' and for those girls, surely, 
 domestic work is preferable to their present employ- 
 ment. There are kind, thoughtful, and considerate 
 women in London who would appreciate good 
 servants and pay fair wages for work well done. 
 There are also, I know, hundreds of girls who are 
 especially fitted for rendering this service. I wish 
 they could be brought to view this subject from 
 a philosophical standpoint, and I would use my 
 influence to convince them that all labour, well 
 performed, is elevating, not demeaning ; that the 
 woman who bakes a loaf of bread properly, polishes 
 the family plate so that it may be mistaken for a 
 mirror, or scrubs the kitchen table white and clean, 
 giving her heart and best talents to the work, is as 
 worthy of respect and praise as the painter who 
 depicts on canvas the glories of the sunlit landscape, 
 the poet who weaves his thoughts into verse, or the 
 sovereign who reigns on a throne. 
 
THE "ALMIGHTY DOLLAR" IN 
 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ADVERTISING FOR A CHAPERON. 
 
 Americans are accused of having a too implicit con- 
 fidence in the purchasing power of their country's 
 coin. In fact, certain foreigners have been known to 
 say that the God referred to in the motto, "In God 
 we trust," engraved on the silver dollar, is in reality a 
 deity of white metal designed and fashioned at the 
 United States Mint. 
 
 " The trouble with your people," said an English- 
 man to me recently, " is that you put too much value 
 on money. It is a convenient article, I will admit ; 
 but you seem to have an idea that you can do 
 anything with it." 
 
 " And, pray, will you give me a list of the things 
 money will not buy in England as well as in 
 America?" I replied. 
 
 " Well, for instance," he answered, " take birth 
 and position. You have an aristocracy of money in 
 America. Here we have one of blood, where pounds, 
 shillings, and pence are not taken into consideration." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " I responded, " I don't know any- 
 thing about the pounds, shillings, and pence feature 
 H 
 
98 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 of the case; but I am inclined to think that our 
 dollars and cents are something of a social factor 
 over here." 
 
 My English friend — bless his dear old aristocratic 
 heart! — appeared to be greatly shocked at my sug- 
 gestion, and assured me that I was mistaken. I 
 longed for facts with which to confront him, and, 
 having faith in advertising as a means of getting any- 
 thing that one is willing to pay for, I wrote out an 
 advertisement, which the next day appeared in the 
 personal columns of a prominent London paper. 
 Thus it ran : — 
 
 A YOUNG AMERICAN LADY of means 
 wishes to meet with a Chaperon of Highest Social 
 Position, who will introduce her into the Best English 
 Society. Liberal terms. Address, " Heiress," . 
 
 Two days later, calling at the office of an adver- 
 tising agency on Piccadilly, I found eighty-seven letters 
 (needless to remark that there were no post-cards) 
 in answer to my advertisement. I had offers from 
 every fashionable neighbourhood in London. Park 
 Lane, Cavendish Square, Grosvenor Square, South 
 Kensington, West Kensington, all were represented ; 
 and the thoughtlessness of the writers in signing their 
 full names and titles to their epistles was something 
 that surprised me. However, nearly every letter was 
 marked at the top "Confidential," "Private," or 
 " Personal," and it seemed to be an understood thing 
 that the affair should go no further. The confidence 
 they exhibited in the "honour" of a total stranger 
 was rather remarkable. Still, I hope the applicants 
 will forgive me if, after having, in the kindness of my 
 heart, kept their real names out of print, I am now 
 
The "Almighty Dollar? 99 
 
 tempted to publish some of their correspondence. 
 Here is a copy of one of the letters : — 
 
 "Private.] 
 
 " Madam, — In answer to your advertisement, I beg to say that I have 
 a very charming house at the above excellent address, which, in itself, 
 would almost insure you a good social position. I speak of this, 
 thinking that you, being an American, may not be aware that a good 
 London address is of much importance in a social way to one whose 
 position is not already established by birth. I am the widow of a well- 
 known English officer — the late Sir Blankety Blank — of whom you have 
 doubtless heard, and I am also titled in my own right. My position is 
 assured, and I can introduce you to the very best people in England, 
 and present you at Court at the first Drawing Room. I could take you 
 into my home next spring, or we could travel together during the 
 winter and return to London at the beginning of the season. I would 
 suggest that you spend the winter months, or part of them, in the 
 South of France, where you would meet the most fashionable people. 
 It may be of interest to you to know that I chaperoned Miss Porkolis, 
 of Chicago, three years ago, and introduced her at Court, although she 
 did not reside with me, as her mother took a furnished house in London 
 for the season. I can give you good references as to my standing, and 
 would require in return a solicitor's and banker's references as to your 
 financial position. 
 
 " My terms in London for three months in the spring would be ^"200 
 per month, which would include board and residence. If you decided 
 to travel, the terms while on the Continent would be ^"ioo per month, 
 you to pay the travelling and hotel expenses for both. Of course, you 
 would also be expected to defray such expenses as carriage-hire, a maid, 
 &c. In thinking over these terms, you must take into consideration 
 that I offer you exceptional advantages. — Very truly yours, 
 
 "A. B. C, Lady .» 
 
 In reading this letter, I was particularly struck 
 with the fact that the writer, although she required 
 my banker's and solicitor's reference as to my financial 
 standing, asked for no voucher for my respectability 
 and position in my own country. She was ready to 
 bargain to introduce me not only to the best English 
 society, but to the Queen herself, for upwards of 
 H 2 
 
ioo Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 ;£i,000, or something over 5,000 dols. in American 
 money. I agreed with her that the advantages she 
 had to offer were exceptional. The name the lady 
 gave was one well known to me, and I was aware 
 that she was not exaggerating when she spoke of her 
 position in society. I had also the honour of a 
 passing acquaintance with Miss Porkolis, whom she 
 mentioned as having chaperoned. Hiring the use of 
 
 a private letter-box, I wrote Lady a letter 
 
 couched in the following terms : — 
 
 " Dear Madam, — In reply to your letter, I think it only honourable 
 that I should tell you something of myself before making an appoint- 
 ment to see you. I am an American girl, an orphan of considerable 
 means, and am willing to pay liberally for what I require. I should, 
 of course, give you the best of references in regard to my financial 
 qualifications, and would even pay you a part of the money in advance ; 
 but before meeting you I must be frank enough to inform you that 
 although I myself am fairly educated and of presentable appearance, 
 nearly all the members of my family are ordinary people, with little or 
 no refinement and education. But, of course, none of them are in 
 Europe, and you would never need come in contact with them. My 
 father owned large ranches out West, and when he died, three years ago, 
 left me the bulk of his fortune. I do not think there is anything about 
 me that would lead you to feel ashamed of me ; but I feel it my duty to 
 tell you that, so far as the rest of my family are concerned, they are 
 what in my country would be termed as * common as dirt.' 
 
 " Your terms are not higher than I should expect them to be. I 
 like the idea of travelling in France ; and when I returned to England 
 I should want you to give some very elegant receptions and balls for 
 me — I, of course, to bear all expense connected with them. 
 
 " As I have told you so much about my private affairs, I would not 
 care to give my name and address until I again hear from you, and 
 know that you would be willing to undertake my chaperonage and 
 introduction at Court under such circumstances as I have mentioned. 
 If you answer in the affirmative, I will make an appointment for you 
 to meet me at my hotel, where I am staying with my maid. — I am, 
 Madam, very truly yours, 
 
 *• - Library, Regent Street, W. " E. L. B. 
 
The "Almighty Dollar** ioi 
 
 The next day I received this note : — 
 
 "Lady presents her compliments to E. L. B., and begs to say 
 
 that she can see no reason why she should not act as her chaperon, 
 provided E. L. B. is herself a refined young lady and can furnish the 
 reference previously referred to from her solicitor and banker. Lady 
 
 will be pleased if E. L. B. will make an early appointment for a 
 
 meeting at her hotel.' 
 
 That was the end of my negotiations with Lady 
 
 . Her answer to my very frank avowal of my 
 
 family connections certainly proved that she cared 
 little for my ancestry or antecedents, so long as I 
 could furnish the necessary number of dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OFFERS OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 ALTHOUGH I had intended that my advertisement 
 should appeal to lady chaperons only, I received 
 some rather flattering offers from members of the 
 opposite sex. One of the most interesting of the 
 letters was from a gentleman matrimonially inclined. 
 Here it is word for word : — 
 
 *' Will the young American lady who has just put an advertisement 
 in the paper relative to her desire to meet an English chaperon of high 
 social position, allow the writer of this letter to address a few lines to 
 her and, as Americans are always candid and outspoken, permit me to 
 be the same? May I ask you to consider over what I write, and 
 pe hops your advertisement may be the means of working out our 
 mutual good. 
 
 " Possibly you may desire to enter London society with the idea of 
 what is called ' settling yourself. You may be more or less alone in 
 England ; and perhaps you like this country, its society, and customs. 
 You would possibly desire to marry an Englishman of high social 
 
102 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 position, who could place you in a certain circle where you would lead others. 
 I am a man who holds a first-rate position. I am a country gentlemen, 
 have a fine place, house, and estate, have been an officer in a distin- 
 guished regiment, and know many people of position and rank. I am 
 just at present in London ; and if you think it would be worth your 
 trouble to at least talk the matter over, I would treat you with all 
 honour and respect. This would, of course, include silence. On the 
 other hand, it would be an absolute necessity that you should be a lady 
 of considerable fortune ; and when I mention this, I trust that you will 
 not judge me until you know my reasons for thus putting it. Whatever 
 fortune you have would be always your own. 
 
 "If you think well of what I have written you, I would be most 
 happy to meet you at whatever time you may appoint, at your own 
 residence or elsewhere. Then judge me and see what manner of man 
 I am." 
 
 This communication bore the stamp of a well- 
 known West- End Club. In my answer I hinted that, 
 although I had not advertised for a husband, I was 
 not adverse to considering the matter to which he 
 had so delicately alluded. Having a desire to follow 
 up the affair, I engaged a room at a certain fashion- 
 able hotel for a day, and made an appointment for 
 the gentleman to call. On the afternoon appointed 
 I awaited him in the drawing-room of the hotel. 
 I wore a stylish-looking costume, various pieces of 
 showy jewellery, and a pair of diamond ear-rings, 
 thinking to impress my would-be husband with a 
 sense of my wealth. 
 
 At four o'clock in the afternoon my suitor made his 
 appearance. He was a fine-looking aristocratic man 
 of middle age. His manners were refined and elegant, 
 and I could not help thinking that I was dealing with 
 neither a fool nor a knave, but with a thorough 
 English gentlemen. We had half an hour's chat, in 
 which my social aspirations were discussed in the 
 
The "Almighty Dollar? 
 
 103 
 
 most business-like manner. I did not give my real 
 name, neither did my companion tell me his own. 
 I addressed him by the assumed name he had signed 
 in his letter. He informed me that he was a widower 
 of excellent position, but that he was somewhat finan- 
 cially embarrassed. He wished to marry a lady of 
 
 { j$m 
 
 "HE WISHED TO MARRY A LADY OF WEALTH." 
 
 wealth, and for the use of her money he was willing 
 to give her his name and a good social position. 
 
 Afterwards I made some investigations in regard 
 to the man ; and to my surprise I found that he 
 was exactly what he represented himself to be : a 
 country gentleman of titled family, who was anxious 
 to recuperate his decaying fortunes by marrying an 
 
1 64 Campaigns of Cukidsirv. 
 
 heiress — an American girl preferred. I discovered 
 his real name and address, and since my interview 
 with him I have often seen his name mentioned in 
 the society columns of the papers. He is still un- 
 married, and I suppose is still looking for a wife. 
 So here is an opportunity for one of our American 
 heiresses to purchase not only an introduction at 
 Court but a husband with mortgaged estates in the 
 bargain. 
 
 All the men who wrote seemed to hold the opinion 
 that, as a rich American girl, my chief desire must 
 be to capture an English husband. Not every one 
 was so outspoken as the writer of the epistle I have 
 just quoted ; but their letters contained either direct 
 or indirect proposals of marriage, provided that, after 
 a meeting, I proved to be personally and financially 
 acceptable. From one of the scions of the nobility 
 came the following missive, penned on violet-scented 
 paper : — 
 
 " Mr. X. presents his compliments to ' Heiress,' who advertised this 
 morning for a chaperon, and begs to say that he would feel honoured 
 
 by a reply to this letter. Mr. X. is the third son of the late , of 
 
 whom the young lady has doubtless heard. lie is twenty- nine years 
 old, of good appearance, and has served as an officer in the army. 
 Mr. X. would much like to arrange for a meeting with the young lady, 
 to whom he would show every courtesy, and might be able to suggest a 
 way by which she could even more than gratify her ambition for a 
 place in English society. He would be also pleased to give her the 
 best references in regard to his character as well as his high social 
 standing. A letter from 'Heiress' would be treated in all confidence 
 by Mr. X." 
 
 I had no need to investigate into the genuineness 
 of the foregoing. I happened to have seen Mr. X.'s 
 handwriting before. In fact, he had once been pre- 
 
The " Almighty* Dollar? 105 
 
 sented to me at the home of a mutual acquaintance. 
 I did not answer his letter, but consigned it to the 
 embers of my study fire. 
 
 On paper of the finest quality, ornamented with 
 a family crest of considerable dimensions. Mrs. Two- 
 stars presented her compliments and begged to 
 say that she would be happy to entertain the idea 
 of chaperoning the young American lady and give 
 her a delightful, cheerful home. Mrs. T., as well as 
 her four daughters, had been presented at Court. 
 The daughters had all married well, and their proud 
 mother felt no compunction in saying that she 
 thought she could introduce the young American 
 lady to many gentlemen of birth and title, if not of 
 fortune. She moved in excellent society, and was 
 fond of entertaining. Terms for London season and 
 presentation, £500, or 2,500 dols. Mrs. Twostars 
 enclosed her photograph, a portrait of herself in 
 her Drawing-Room gown, which, by the way, had a 
 button off the front. The photograph was returned 
 in the stamped and addressed envelope thoughtfully 
 enclosed. The lady proved to be the daughter of a 
 distinguished baronet, and the wife of a man well 
 known in London society. 
 
 Lady So-and-So, of Queen's Gate, wrote that she 
 would be glad to chaperon me. Terms £600 to £800 
 sterling, according to arrangements and the advantages 
 required. 
 
 The Countess de Blank was also open to an en- 
 gagement. She was an Englishwoman married to a 
 foreign title. 
 
 A certain dowager of exalted rank, well known on 
 two continents, informed me that she would under- 
 
lo6 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 take my chaperonage, and would hire a furnished 
 house for me near Park Lane ; the rent would be not 
 less than £50 per week during the season. Her own 
 place was in the country, and she had given up her 
 town house. She would devote her whole attention 
 to the management of the establishment, and would 
 introduce me as her young American friend or distant 
 relative, if I desired. Besides the house-rent, I must 
 bear the entire expense of keeping up the place, giving 
 balls, theatre-parties, &c, and the dowager herself 
 would expect the sum of ^"2,000 for her services. I 
 supposed these figures were not remarkably high for 
 a lady of so much " position," and, having some 
 curiosity to make her acquaintance, I wrote asking for 
 an appointment to call. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHAT IT WOULD COST. 
 
 On the day appointed I started out to call on the 
 lady who had intimated her willingness to chaperon 
 me for ^"2,000. It was with considerable self-con- 
 fidence that I stepped from a smart brougham before 
 the door of her aristocratic abode, for I carried with 
 me the assurance of my dressmaker that I looked a 
 veritable Western heiress just from Paris ; and, the 
 matter of dress being satisfactorily arranged, I felt 
 no doubt as to my ability to carry out the role I had 
 
 undertaken to play. The Dowager Lady was 
 
 particularly gracious. She was not by any means 
 
The "Almighty Dollar'* \oJ 
 
 such a cold-blooded bargainer as I had imagined her 
 to be — that is, she did not look it. A more aristo- 
 cratic, refined, and interesting woman I had never 
 met. She candidly explained that she was in great 
 need of money, and obliged to either increase her 
 income or diminish her expenses. Unlike one of my 
 other correspondents, she was unable to refer me to 
 any American girl whom she had chaperoned, as 
 she had never before attempted to make money 
 out of her social position ; but she assured me 
 that some of her friends made such use of their 
 influence, and she saw no reason why she should 
 not do the same. We discussed the pros and cons 
 of the matter over our tea. I was promised not only 
 a social position, but a husband. Just who the gentle- 
 man was my hostess did not say ; but she knew he 
 could be secured. But not for the ^"2,000. Oh no ! 
 That sum of money would take me only so far as 
 Buckingham Palace. In fact, it would not even take 
 me there ; for, besides my chaperon's salary, I must 
 pay the house-rent, carriage-hire, with such inci- 
 dentals as butchers' and bakers' bills and other little 
 accessories that in three months would certainly 
 amount to considerably over £ 1 ,000. Then there was 
 my wardrobe. The lady suggested that it would need 
 refurnishing, and she knew of a wonderfully clever 
 West-End dressmaker. There were also the pre- 
 sentation dress, the bouquets, boatonnieres for the 
 coachmen, a string of pearls for my neck, because they 
 would be girlish and simple, and all that ; for these 
 and many more things another ,£1,000 would not go 
 too far. 
 
 " And how much do you charge for the husband ? " 
 
108 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 was the abrupt question I felt inclined to put. But I 
 only said sweetly, " If I really got married, I would not 
 forget you, of course." She answered laughingly, 
 " You might make me a present, you know." 
 
 So the result of my interview was, that I was to 
 pay out between ^4,000 and £5, 000 for a "season" 
 in London, introductions into the best society, and a 
 presentation at Court. It was more than probable 
 that during my career as a society belle, some poor 
 though perhaps fascinating young, middle-aged, or old 
 nobleman (no matter what his age so long as his line- 
 age was correct) would fall deeply in love with me, 
 lured on possibly by my chaperon's representations 
 concerning the state of my cattle-ranches out West. 
 Then I would marry him and be an ornament to 
 
 society, and I would give Lady a little present 
 
 of a cheque or a house in Park Lane, or even some 
 land in the far Western State, where my herds grazed 
 peacefully on a thousand hills. Surely the purchasing 
 power of the "almighty dollar" was not to be 
 despised 1 
 
 Thinking to further increase my fund of informa- 
 tion, I answered several advertisements that seemed 
 to refer to the scheme I had taken in hand, In the 
 financial column of a morning paper I found this : — 
 
 A LADY OF TITLE wishes to borrow 
 ^1,000 for six months. Would act as chaperon 
 to young lady. 
 
 I wrote to the address given, repeating my American 
 heiress story. I stated that I was looking for a 
 chaperon, and was willing to give, instead of lend, 
 £1^00 to the proper person. My answer came from 
 a solicitor's office. It read : — 
 
The "Almighty Dollar!* 109 
 
 " Madam, — My client, feeling:, as you do, the delicacy that exists in 
 the matter, has handed to me your letter of the ioth inst., and has 
 desired me to communicate with you thereon. There is no question 
 that she is in a position to do what you desire ; and, as it is somewhat 
 difficult to arrive at any conclusion by correspondence, I would suggest 
 that you allow me to meet you with the view of thoroughly discussing 
 the matter. I should be glad to see you either at my office or your 
 
 house ; or, indeed, as ladies are admitted at the Club during the 
 
 hour of afternoon tea, it might be convenient if the interview took 
 place there, where, without any undue observation, I could arrange a 
 meeting with my client." 
 
 Other advertisements to which I replied were 
 somewhat of this kind : — 
 
 A LADY OF GOOD POSITION, speaking 
 several languages, expects to spend the winter on 
 the Continent, and is willing to chaperon one or two 
 young girls and receive them into her home on her 
 return to London. 
 
 When I wrote to the advertisers, most of them 
 stated that they would prefer an American girl to 
 travel and live with them. 
 
 At the beginning of my investigations. I did not 
 start out with a lantern searching for an honest man ; 
 but I think I found him by answering this advertise- 
 ment : — 
 
 A FAMILY OF GOOD POSITION will 
 give Board and Residence to Young Lady in West- 
 End. Will chaperon her if desired. 
 
 In reply to the letter, in which I frankly confided 
 all my social aspirations, I received a note that seemed 
 likely to destroy one of the most valuable commercial 
 qualities that I, as a journalist, had hitherto possessed 
 — my cynicism. Here it is : — 
 
 " Dear Madam, — Under the peculiar circumstances, I am sure it 
 will be better that we commence our negotiations by showing mutual 
 trust in each other. I therefore give you my full address and write ia 
 
no Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 my own name, ., feeling sure that you will appreciate my motives, and 
 keep the knowledge to yourself. You can readily understand that in 
 our position we do not want the matter to become public property or 
 the subject of talk. 
 
 " My wife could, I think, introduce you into good English society, 
 but not into titled society, which I know is aimed at by many American 
 ladies, but in reality is only gained by the assistance of the needy 
 nobility — mostly dowagers with small means and ' marketable handles ' 
 to their names. 
 
 " You, I think, will see that it is not practicable to give exact terms, 
 as you asked for in your letter, without much more information than 
 can be given in any letter, however explicit. Could you arrange, 
 therefore, to call here at any time (we do not object to a Sunday) and 
 see my wife and myself, when doubtless we might come to some pleasant 
 arrangements and understanding ? " 
 
 Oh, Diogenes ! what a pity you did not read the 
 advertising columns of the morning papers ! 
 
 With the exception of the one honest man whose 
 letter I have quoted, none of those with whom 
 I had negotiations refused to entertain my propo- 
 sition, even when I acknowledged my deplorable 
 lack of ancestry and proper family connections. The 
 large fortune I represented myself as possessing 
 seemed to cover a multitude of embarrassing cir- 
 cumstances, if not positive sins. Had I carried my 
 experiment further and been introduced and pre- 
 sented at Court, I should only have been one of 
 numerous Americans who have walked on a golden 
 pavement to the Throne Room of Buckingham 
 Palace. 
 
The ''Almighty Dollar' 1 hi 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 INTERESTING ANTECEDENTS. 
 
 It may be of interest to English readers to know 
 something concerning my countrywomen who have 
 made a sensation during a London season. Many 
 of them are unknown, or at least unrecognised, by the 
 best American society. 
 
 Take Miss Porkolis, for example, the Western 
 
 girl whom Lady spoke of having chaperoned. 
 
 Her grandfather was interested in the lard business, 
 and who her great-grandfather was history sayeth 
 not. The present Mr. Porkolis has retired to a 
 country house and lives on his income. When Miss 
 Porkolis was introduced to London society she was 
 even in a worse state than I represented myself to 
 be ; for not only were the members of her family 
 unrefined and uneducated, but the young lady herself 
 made the most startling blunders in grammar and 
 
 spelling. No wonder that Lady , in considering 
 
 my proposition, made the proviso that I myself must 
 be possessed of some refinement and education. She 
 was doubtless thinking of the many embarrassments 
 she suffered during the career of Miss Porkolis ! 
 
 There were the Cole-Kings, two sisters, chaperoned 
 by a well-known social star. Both were beautiful, 
 fascinating, and wealthy. They were from the Wild 
 West, but were educated in an Eastern seminary, and 
 then sent to a " finishing school " to be polished off. 
 The polishing process lasted over two years ; and 
 then, after a vain attempt to number themselves 
 among the New York " Four Hundred," they made 
 
ii2 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 a trip over the Continent, and turned up in London 
 in time for the festivities of the season. 
 
 The Diamondsons came over en famille, and 
 entertained magnificently in London not a dozen 
 years ago. Everybody went to their " crushes," be- 
 cause with them money seemed to be no object. In 
 speaking of the British and American monetary 
 system one time, Mr. Diamondson was heard to re- 
 mark that, although he generally thought in dollars, 
 he would just as soon pay out pounds as dollars, as it 
 was simply a matter of multiplication by five anyhow. 
 So when Miss Evelyn Diamondson wanted a dress 
 from Messrs. Swagger and Swell, it made no differ- 
 ence to her adoring father whether it cost one hundred 
 dollars or one hundred pounds. It was, then, not 
 surprising that, with all their recklessness as regarded 
 the expenditure of money, the Diamondsons became 
 immensely popular. Their daughter almost married 
 a man of high degree in England, and then quite 
 married a titled foreigner — a harmless sort of person, 
 who contentedly spends the income allowed him by 
 his father-in-law. 
 
 I could give a long list of my recently Anglicised 
 countrypeople who in England are mistakenly looked 
 upon as fair specimens of America's best citizens. 
 There are the Snobsons, of wheat farm fame ; the 
 Candlemans, who grew opulent on the proceeds 
 of their tallow and fat business ; and the Welldiggers, 
 who awoke one morning to find themselves mil- 
 lionaires, one of the " hired men " having " struck 
 oil" on the outskirts of the farm after the rest of 
 the family had gone to bed. Mr. Welldigger took 
 the hired man into partnership, and proposed that 
 
The "Almighty Dollar? 113 
 
 he should marry Angel ica, his only daughter. But 
 Angelica positively declined, having made up her 
 mind to cross the ocean and marry a title, which 
 she did, and greatly to her credit too, for never a 
 girl fished harder with gilded bait than did Angelica. 
 
 The prevalence of French names and hyphens 
 among the signatures of rich Americans has often 
 been remarked upon. About the first thing that 
 occurs to a man with newly-acquired wealth and 
 social aspirations is to make some sort of change in 
 his name, if it happens to be an unfashionable one, 
 which is often the case. If Patrick Rafferty becomes 
 a millionaire by a sudden speculation, either he or his 
 wife will immediately discover that the family is really 
 of French origin, and that the name should be pro- 
 nounced Raffertay, with the accent on the last syllable ; 
 while if Luther Jones determines to attempt to scale 
 the social ladder in London, he will have new cards 
 engraved, which will read thus : " Mr. Luther-Jones." 
 Then the French " de " is also quite popular among 
 our would-be aristocrats, and such names as "de 
 Brown " and " de Smithers " are considered quite the 
 thing for a family about to make a European trip. 
 
 And yet, " what's in a name ? " So far as 
 society is concerned, the daughters of the men I have 
 mentioned would have experienced no difficulty in 
 finding chaperons to introduce them in London even if 
 their names had been plain Jones or Smithers, so long 
 as they paid the price, which I have discovered is 
 made according to the advantages offered. 
 
 So, after all my investigations, my faith in the 
 purchasing power of the " Almighty Dollar " stiU 
 remains unshaken. 
 I 
 
THE PRICE OF A PEDIGREE. 
 
 WHEN General Harrison was running for the Presi- 
 dency, the members of the opposition party looked 
 about for a slur to cast upon him. Finally, they 
 brought forward an accusation of the gravest possible 
 kind. It was that the poor man had a grandfather, 
 which, being altogether un-American, proved conclu- 
 sively that he ought never to be elected President of 
 the United States. During that campaign many good 
 Democrats put the pictures of their ancestors away 
 in the attic, or turned them with faces towards the 
 wall, in order to escape the imputation of being 
 traitors to Democratic principles. In certain circles 
 it was looked upon as nothing short of a crime to 
 have a family-tree and to be able to tell with any 
 degree of certainty from which branch one had 
 sprouted. 
 
 I do not know whether General Harrison's elec- 
 tion had anything to do with making grandfathers 
 more popular, but for the past few years I have noticed 
 that not only grandfathers, but ancestors removed 
 many generations back, were getting immensely 
 fashionable, especially among people of suddenly- 
 acquired wealth. It has often occurred to me that 
 there must be some sort of mill or shop where fore- 
 fathers and coats-of-arms were made to order. I 
 have known persons who one month wrote on plain 
 
 I 2 
 
n6 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 note-paper, drove in hired hansoms, and had the 
 walls of the " parlour " adorned with chromos, who 
 the next month indited notes on stationery embossed 
 with strangely-wrought characters in gold and bronze 
 and purple, and invited their friends to call at a new 
 house, where, on the drawing-room walls, hung old- 
 fashioned gilded frames, from which stared cracked 
 and battered portraits of men and women of ancient 
 times. I have always noticed that the advent of 
 these things was simultaneous with a rise in the price 
 of pork, the finding of a new mine, or a hitherto 
 undiscovered oil-well. 
 
 Some years ago a young New York lawyer, who, 
 had he lived in England, would have been known as 
 a " briefless barrister," confided to me that he wished 
 to go to one of the Western States and start in his 
 profession, but he was kept back for the lack of a few 
 hundred dollars. He was clever, talented, and had 
 boundless ambition, the sort of man that always 
 rises in America. He had been an only son, but his 
 parents had left him no legacy, except an honoured 
 name and a family-tree of considerable dimensions. 
 One day, in talking over his resources, a sudden 
 thought occurred to him, and his face brightened. 
 
 " Do you know," said he, " it seems as if those 
 ancestors of mine ought to be worth something to me 
 in a crisis like this ! " 
 
 "But they're not," I answered. "You know 
 they're as dead as a door-nail. There's nothing for 
 you but to go and saw wood." 
 
 Still he persisted that ancestors were ^realisable 
 assets, if he could only find a market for them, and ex- 
 plained that many a rich man would be glad to own 
 
The Price of a Pedigree. 117 
 
 such a pedigree and coat-of-arms as he possessed. 
 The next day he brought a parcel of papers, which 
 contained a full account of his genealogy, a descrip- 
 tion of his ancestral halls, and a crest of no mean 
 order ; and, going over them, he made it clear to me 
 just how, with a few slight changes, everything 
 might be made to apply to almost any person and 
 fit the case exactly. 
 
 At first I was shocked, and could not enter into 
 the spirit of the thing, though I could not but admire 
 his resourceful mind. There seemed to be something 
 uncanny and sacrilegious about selling off one's fore- 
 father's like that, and I told him so, comparing him 
 to Esau, who sold his birthright for a mess of 
 pottage. 
 
 I went to South America soon afterwards, and 
 thought no more about the affair until three or four 
 months ago I received a marked copy of a Western 
 paper, which spoke of the fame recently achieved by 
 a rising young lawyer, who was one of the coming 
 men of the great West. It was my old-time friend, 
 and I fell to wondering whether he had realised a 
 sufficient amount on his pedigree to enable him to 
 make the start he wanted. I wrote, asking him if he 
 had succeeded in disposing of his heritage, and also 
 desired him to give me any additional information he 
 could in regard to modern genealogical matters. A 
 few weeks later I had a letter from him, stating that, 
 soon after I left New York, he had found a buyer for 
 his wares in the person of a wealthy citizen of 
 Dakota, who, happening to have the same name as 
 his own (which was not an uncommon one), paid 
 him $800 down cash, and was not even put to the 
 
ii 8 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 trouble of making any changes. At the close of his 
 letter he wrote : — 
 
 "You probably have not heard that the Highfliers, of Wyoming, 
 have suddenly come out with a coat-of-arms and weird-looking old oil- 
 paintings. I have taken the pains to investigate it for you, and I under- 
 stand that they had some private person, who lives hear London, to 
 attend to the matter for them. The coat-of-arms is not genuine, I am 
 sure, and the paintings, though doubtless somebody's ancestors, are 
 not their own. You might go and see the man in the interest of your 
 
 profession. His address is . As for myself, I am getting on 
 
 swimmingly since I sold my birthright, and when anyone inquires into 
 the details of my forbears, I put them off with the quotation : 
 
 " ' The rank is but the guinea stamp, 
 The man's the man for a' that.' " 
 
 The place indicated was in one of the suburbs of 
 London, and I called twice at the address before I 
 found the person I sought. The gentility and un- 
 pretentious bearing of the house I visited rather dis- 
 appointed me ; for I half-expected to see a shop with 
 crests, stamps, and trees displayed in the window, and 
 suspended over the door some such sign as " Pedi- 
 grees While You Wait." 
 
 The man who answered to the name my friend 
 had given me was also a disappointment. He 
 did not have the appearance of a manufacturer of 
 ancestors and armorial ensigns. He was a thorough 
 gentleman, but not like an Englishman. He seemed 
 to be of German extraction, though he spoke without 
 an accent. 
 
 I explained that I was an American, and was 
 anxious to obtain some information concerning my 
 father's people, who were English. I gave my name 
 as Miss Helen Simpkins. I think the name must 
 have discouraged him at once ; for he put on an 
 
The Price of a Pedigree. 119 
 
 exceedingly doubtful look, as if wondering whether 
 any good could come out of the Simpkinses or, rather, 
 if the Simpkinses could have come out of any good. 
 The name certainly did not have an aristocratic ring 
 about it. That was why I gave it. I thought it quite 
 as good as Highflier, and likely to bring about just as 
 satisfactory results. 
 
 " Simpkins, Simpkins," he repeated in a musing 
 sort of way. " Is that an old English name ? " 
 
 " I don't know how old it is," I answered, " but it is 
 my name, and my father's people were English. I want 
 to find out who they were and what they were. I 
 understand that you make investigations of this kind 
 for Americans." 
 
 " Yes," he answered, with the semblance of a smile. 
 " I have sometimes done that, as I am interested in 
 the study of genealogy and the subject of heredity, 
 though I do not make a business of it. Yet I have 
 helped some of your country people in that way." 
 
 " How much does it cost ? " I asked bluntly. 
 
 " Well, my charge, of course, depends upon the 
 trouble I am obliged to take. I suppose you have 
 some information to give me concerning your grand- 
 father, great-grandfather, where they lived, whether 
 they were what is known as gentlemen, and when 
 they went to America ? It may be a very simple 
 matter, in which case the cost would be trifling — not 
 more than five or six guineas." 
 
 He seemed so genuine, so honest, and withal such 
 a gentleman, that I began to believe he never could 
 have helped the Highfliers in their quest of a lineage 
 
 "You see," said I, " my father and mother are not 
 living, and, as I am the only member of the family, I 
 
120 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 have no means of finding out anything concerning 
 my father's ancestors, except that I know his father 
 was named Samuel Simpkins and lived somewhere in 
 England. I thought you could hunt all that up for 
 me ; and I was prepared to pay you for your trouble, 
 whatever you might ask." 
 
 I spoke in a melancholy, innocent sort of tone, 
 and my auditor smiled good-naturedly, as he said : 
 
 " I am afraid I could not do anything with such 
 vague information as you have at your command, 
 even though you gave me a thousand pounds. We 
 must have something to start on, and you have 
 nothing. If you are a wealthy American lady, as I 
 suppose you are, I would not, if I were you, bother 
 myself about questions of this sort. Indeed, you have 
 no necessity to trouble about ancestors. To be an 
 American woman is honour enough." 
 
 He was so very kind and so American-like in his 
 gallantry, that I felt like confessing myself a sham ; 
 but the thought of Henrietta Highflier, and all the 
 airs she had doubtless assumed with her new-found 
 dignity, induced me to make another effort before 
 giving up. 
 
 "I am so sorry ; I thought you could help me. I 
 understood that you did something for the Highfliers, 
 of Wyoming. Did Mr. Highflier know anything more 
 about his grandfathers than I know about mine ? " 
 
 He smiled when I mentioned the name of High- 
 flier. 
 
 " Yes, I did put myself to considerable trouble for 
 the Highfliers," he answered ; " but theirs was a pecu- 
 liar case." 
 
 " Mine is also a peculiar case. It is not pleasant 
 
The Price of a Pedigree. 121 
 
 to know nothing about one's people. I have come to 
 England purposely to find out, and I don't like to go 
 back to America with no more information than when 
 I came. I am willing to pay anything you ask for 
 the trouble I make you. I have no one to care what 
 I do with my money." I was anxious to get away 
 from this very pleasant man, but still I must know 
 about the Highfliers. 
 
 " Is it then for America only that you wish a coat- 
 of-arms and a genealogical-table? You do not 
 intend to remain in England or on the Continent ? " 
 
 "Yes, I want something to show my American 
 friends, a crest for the brougham and stamp for my 
 note paper. I do not expect to stop in England after 
 this month," was my reply. 
 
 "Very well," he said. "I can supply you with 
 what you seem to want for two hundred pounds, if 
 you desire to spend your money so foolishly. I will 
 be perfectly honest with you and tell you that it will 
 be better for you to use the crest only in America 
 where people will not put it to a close scrutiny. 
 You had best think the matter over before you 
 decide. You look intelligent and I think you can 
 understand my position in the matter. I am always 
 honourable in my dealings." 
 
 "Did you arrange it that way for the Highfliers?" 
 I asked, making my final stroke, as I prepared to 
 leave. 
 
 " I am hardly at liberty to answer your question," 
 he replied with great dignity. 
 
 He shook hands, and bowed me out in a kindly, 
 fatherly sort of way. I could not help but admire 
 the genuineness of the man who did not attempt to 
 
122 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 pass off a sham thing for a real. If rich Americans 
 were willing to pay him a thousand dollars for draw- 
 ing original pictures of trees, animals, and coronets 
 and making a list of names on paper or attaching 
 them to the branches of an apple-tree, knowing the 
 while that they were pictures only, nobody could 
 blame him for amusing himself and accepting the 
 money. 
 
 After my interview with the man who did the 
 Highfliers such an inestimable service, I discovered 
 another person in the City who, without troubling 
 me with embarrassing questions concerning the 
 Simpkinses of a past age, would undertake to provide 
 me with a noble line of ancestors extending back 
 several generations, his charges to be according to the 
 length of the line. This was reasonable enough ; for, 
 of course, the larger the number of ancestors, the 
 more time and thought spent in the investigation, or 
 manufacture, as the case might be. I considered 
 this plan of supplying forefathers at so much a head 
 the only true business-like way of carrying out such 
 a transaction. If I cared for a pedigree to begin 
 with the thirteenth, fourteenth, or fifteenth century, 
 the price would naturally be higher than one which 
 started in the seventeenth or eighteenth century. 
 The lowest price for which any investigation would 
 be undertaken was £50, while a coat-of-arms would 
 be " authenticated " for £\o extra. I presume that 
 this price would be increased if I demanded anything 
 of a very elaborate order. 
 
 Those who study the advertising columns of the 
 daily papers have doubtless often noticed the adver- 
 tisement of a "private gentleman," who advises 
 
The Price of a Pedigree, 123 
 
 Americans and others that he is prepared to authen- 
 ticate pedigrees and emblazon escutcheons at reason- 
 able terms. Many of my countrypeople who visit 
 London during the season have received from this 
 gentleman neatly-engraved cards, stating that he 
 makes a speciality of the study of heraldry in connec- 
 tion with the stationery business. He says that 
 many Americans, though they know it not, can 
 really trace their families back to the blood royal of 
 England. But this gentleman's customers are not all 
 Americans. He has been patronised by numbers of 
 City men and tradespeople of London, who, with the 
 acquisition of wealth made in stockbroking or the 
 drapery trade, feel a sudden craving for knowledge of 
 their ancestry. Many of them are so deceived by the 
 pedigree-maker that they believe the strange, weird 
 tales he tells them, while others are satisfied to make 
 their neighbours believe them. 
 
 The genealogies thus supplied are probably quite 
 as genuine as many of those collected together in 
 certain books relating to the existing gentle and noble 
 families of England. In looking over these publica- 
 tions, I have often been struck with the fact that 
 nearly all the pedigrees commence with the time of 
 Conquest, and I have been surprised to find that 
 nearly everybody worth mentioning had ancestors 
 who were " close friends " of William the Conqueror. 
 It is wonderful the number of intimate companions 
 that crusty old invader had ! According to the 
 genealogical records, they were more numerous than 
 the sands of the desert. In some of these pedigrees 
 there seem to have been at times several generations 
 that got lost in some unaccountable way, so that in 
 
124 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 many instances it would appear that certain men 
 must have been the sons of their great-great-grand- 
 fathers, unless, like Topsy, they "just growed." Such 
 discrepancies as these are doubtless due to the 
 stupidity of pedigree-makers who lived two or three 
 centuries ago, and they have been allowed to go on 
 uncorrected. Nineteenth-century genealogists know 
 their business better, and they go on the principle 
 that " what is worth doing at all is worth doing well;" 
 hence a pedigree now made to order reads smoothly 
 and consistently, and the possessor may congratulate 
 himself on the fact that he is able to secure the very 
 latest thing in this line. 
 
 Some genealogists have been known to show a 
 sense of the eternal fitness of things by supplying their 
 customers with crests and arms to suit their particular 
 vocations. A few years ago a wealthy Chicago pork- 
 dealer, who had expressed his willingness to pay a 
 large sum of money for a crest and family-tree, was 
 much insulted on receiving a sheet of paper stamped 
 with a picture of three wild boars standing on their 
 hind legs. He refused to pay for it on the ground 
 that it was too personal, and now his carriage panels 
 are ornamented with a crest of an entirely different 
 character. If people would only be more consistent 
 in such matters, the art of heraldry might be put to 
 much greater use than it is at present ; but consistency 
 is so costly a jewel that there are few who can afford 
 to wear it. How convenient it would be if Miss 
 Brewer, of Milwaukee, would have the top of her 
 note-paper embellished with a drawing of a brightly- 
 coloured cask or barrel ! On the family plate of the 
 wealthy Dakota farmer might be engraved a sheaf of 
 
The Price of a Pedigree. 125 
 
 wheat, while the escutcheon of the Pennsylvania 
 coal baron could be adorned with a representation of 
 a glowing furnace. 
 
 In these days of the " new woman," the " new jour- 
 nalism," the "new drama," and the "new art," I am 
 surprised that someone does not invent something 
 original in the way of pedigrees, and call it the " new 
 heraldry." Cannot a man be found who is bold 
 and honest enough to start his pedigree in the latter 
 part of the nineteenth century, commencing with him- 
 self, and taking for his coat-of-arms the symbol of his 
 own trade or profession? Such a course would be 
 the only proper one for so-called " self-made " men to 
 adopt, both in England and America. In such a case, 
 a very appropriate motto would be " Every Man His 
 Own Ancestor." 
 
 But until such a person comes forward, I suppose 
 we shall have to put up with such improvements and 
 conveniences as we already have, which, after all, 
 are not to be despised. "Made ancestors" possess 
 peculiar advantages over the genuine articles, inas- 
 much as they m. y be manufactured at notice to suit 
 all tastes and requirements. Then, too, the plan, to 
 a great extent, does away with the family skeletons 
 of a past generation, which are always liable to pop 
 up at inopportune times and create embarrassments. 
 According to the present method, anybody with 
 money may be descended from knights, earls, dukes, 
 and even kings, all of the best variety and irreproach- 
 able character. Crests of colours and designs most 
 pleasing to the eye may always be obtained, and the 
 coat of mail that stands in the hall may be ever 
 bright and new. 
 
126 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 Those plebeians who insist on pedigrees of ancient 
 date may be accommodated by entering into negotia- 
 tions with the aristocratic poor of all countries, and 
 even persons with genealogies and crests of their own 
 are privileged to have them altered and rearranged 
 at pleasure. In this connection I am reminded of 
 the story of a Boston lady, who, visiting London 
 recently, decided to go to a sort of private heraldic 
 bureau and have her ancestors hunted up. It 
 transpired that the lady was really of noble lineage, 
 but when she was shown the coat-of-arms which 
 had belonged to her family centuries ago, she nearly 
 fainted at the sight of the snakes and lizards that 
 formed a prominent part of the crest. She declared 
 that she hated " crawling things," and demanded a 
 new one. The man of heralds tried to explain to 
 her that the snakes and lizards were only symbols, 
 but all to no effect, and he was finally obliged to 
 make her a new coat-of-arms, in which frisking grey- 
 hounds took the place of the objectionable features. 
 
 It must, however, be admitted that the present 
 system has its drawbacks as well as its conveniences, 
 in that the owners of genuine crests are never safe in 
 their possessions. If a neighbour admires the style 
 and design, there seems to be nothing to prevent his 
 having it copied, with, perhaps, a very small differ- 
 ence as regards details. It is said that an English 
 diplomat, who some years ago resided in America, 
 ordered from a Washington manufacturer a new 
 brougham, with the instruction that on the panels 
 should be painted his coat-of-arms. A few weeks 
 later, on visiting the carriage shop, he found that 
 several new turn-outs were standing about, emblazoned 
 
The Price of a Pedigree. 127 
 
 in the same way as the one he ordered. He thought, 
 perhaps, the manufacturer was intending to make 
 him a present. 
 
 " Are these all mine ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " answered the manufacturer. " Some 
 of my customers so much admired the picture on 
 your brougham that they decided to have it copied 
 on their own carriages. Rather a compliment to 
 your taste, I take ! " This story, however, is given 
 more credence in England than in the 'United 
 States. 
 
 I have found that none of the pedigree " shops " 
 are entirely patronised by Americans. Many of 
 their customers are to be found among the English 
 middle classes. Snobs are not indigenous to republics. 
 They are quite as numerous in monarchies. 
 
 There are certain people who do not care to 
 patronise the " shops," preferring rather to carry on 
 their transactions privately. It is mostly in this way 
 that those persons who have a family backing and no 
 money are enabled to meet others who have the 
 money but no backing, and so they make a fair 
 exchange, which is no robbery. 
 
 Since my investigation into this matter, 1 have 
 begun to have a strangely suspicious feeling about 
 some of my personal acquaintances, who, it has often 
 occurred to me, talk more than is really necessary 
 concerning their noble or gentle descent. I have 
 even grown cynical as regards the thorough-bredness 
 of my black poodle, whom I had hitherto looked 
 upon as being descended from a long line of patrician 
 Parisians. Now, whenever I notice him attempting to 
 show any superiority over the unkempt mongrel that 
 
128 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 he passes on the street, I push back the fringe that 
 hangs about his face and looking him in the eyes, 
 say, " Dear old doggie ! you must not be vain 
 because of your supposed high-born condition, for 
 I have discovered that there are Pedigrees FOR 
 All." 
 
SWEEPING A CROSSING, 
 
 " Spare a copper ! Spare a copper ! " Every 
 Londoner knows the hackneyed phrase. Walking 
 one day from Oxford Circus to Charing Cross, I 
 heard it fourteen times. " Help a poor chap ! " 
 " Pity an old sweep ! " These were the variations 
 which occasionally broke the monotony of the 
 appeal. Into each outstretched hand I dropped a 
 copper, while fourteen separate and distinct blessings 
 were called down upon my head. When I reached 
 the Strand I found I had distributed just twelve 
 pence and a halfpenny, and I could have taken a 
 hansom for a shilling! It was easy for me to 
 understand why so many pedestrians were obliged 
 to shake their heads at the importunities of the 
 sweeps. It would be much cheaper to ride than 
 to walk if one should hand to each sweep a penny 
 or even a halfpenny, and cabs would be a matter 
 of economy. Only the rich can afford to walk and 
 be generous — or shall I say just ? For, to my mind, 
 it is a question whether people have a right to keep 
 their boots clean on a muddy day without paying 
 the man who makes it possible for them to walk 
 dryshod across the street. I hold that the sweep 
 is not a beggar, but a man of business, however 
 humble his line of operations may be. When I 
 walk over his cleanly-swept pathway with unsullied 
 J 
 
130 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 skirts and boots I give him a penny as payment 
 for value received, and in such cases a penny spent 
 is two or three shillings saved in cleaners' bills. 
 
 The sweep is not only a man of business, he is 
 often something of an artist. He has developed 
 cross-sweeping into one of the fine arts, and no 
 one can but admire the geometrical symmetry of 
 his work. The straight lines stretching from corner 
 to corner, the circles and right-angled triangles which 
 he traces along the principal thoroughfares, often 
 transform an ugly crossing into a thing of beauty. 
 I have often wondered that some of the more skilful 
 do not use their talents in a more remunerative 
 profession, although wonderful tales have been told 
 of members of the craft who have grown wealthy 
 with plying the broom for a quarter of a century. 
 Strange stories of men who swept crossings on week- 
 days and rode in private broughams on Sundays are 
 floating about London. A particularly interesting 
 legend is that of an old man who for many years 
 swept a crossing in the neighbourhood of Maryle- 
 bone Road. He himself lived in cheap West-End 
 lodgings, but his family had their country house, 
 and fared sumptuously. Two or three times a year 
 he visited them and made an impression on his 
 neighbours with his always up-to-date method of 
 dressing. His frock-coat and top-hat were of the 
 latest make and fashion. When he died there were 
 several thousand pounds to his credit in the bank. 
 Among the ranks of crossing-sweeps the story will 
 doubtless be handed down from father to son as 
 an example o f what an ambitious sweep may do if 
 he will. 
 
Sweeping a Crossing. 131 
 
 With an ever-inquiring mind that leads me often- 
 times into the amateur detective service in order to 
 get at the bottom of things, the idea of playing the 
 role of a crossing-sweep came to me as a matter of 
 course. I would thus have an opportunity to find 
 out if it were really true, as some people assert, that 
 hundreds of London sweeps are growing opulent at 
 the expense of poor but kind-hearted pedestrians. 
 
 With this in mind, I stopped to interview an old 
 woman who for the past several years has kept her 
 position on Portland Place, in the vicinity of the 
 Langham Hotel. I first took the precaution to give 
 her a goodly number of pennies ere I proceeded to 
 draw her out on the merits and demerits of her 
 chosen calling. She smiled propitiously, and then 
 I asked if I might hire her crossing for two hours 
 in the afternoon at the rate of a shilling an hour. 
 I had expected she would reply "Yes, lady. Thank 
 you, lady," and hand me over her broom and stool 
 without further parleying, but, to my astonishment, 
 she eyed me suspiciously and demanded sternly, 
 " What's yer motive ? " I could not reply to her as 
 I had recently done to a London editor, who, when I 
 had proposed to him a subject for a sensational story, 
 put to me the same question. Then I had answered 
 candidly, " Why, to get copy, of course." I could not 
 thus take the old woman into my confidence. 
 
 "What difference can it make about my motive 
 so long as you get your money ? " I asked. " See, 
 you may have it in advance," and I held the shining 
 coins temptingly before her. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I wants to know yer motive. Ye looks a fine 
 J 2 
 
132 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 lady, but ye might be wantin' to take the bread out 
 of my mouth ! " 
 
 And so it was true that there were tricks in all 
 trades, street-sweeping included ! How, indeed, was 
 she to know that I was not a would-be member of 
 her craft passing myself off for a benevolent lady ? 
 Might I not have a deep-laid scheme to hire her 
 stand for a couple of hours, and then " do " her out 
 of her means of livelihood for the rest of her days ? 
 
 " How much money did you take in yesterday ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " Only ninepence, lady, enough to buy sugar and 
 tea and bread, and the landlord was askin' me for 
 the rent," she answered in a whining voice. 
 
 " Was that a good day's earnings ? " 
 
 " Yes, lady ; but sometimes I takes a shillin' or 
 one and tuppence." 
 
 " Did you ever get two shillings in a day?" 
 
 " No, lady, never." 
 
 " Then why not take the money and let me have 
 the crossing from three to five o'clock ? Whatever 
 pennies I receive I'll give you to-morrow morning." 
 
 My words were smooth and my tones seductive, 
 but all to no avail. 
 
 "No, my lady. It do look queer, and I wouldn't 
 let ye have it for no amount. Ye can't get a crossing 
 from anybody unless ye tells more about yersclf." 
 
 She picked up her broom and began wielding 
 it excitedly over the pavement. Dismissed thus un- 
 ceremoniously, I decided to go out sweeping on my 
 own account, and commence operations wherever I 
 could. An hour later I emerged from my area gate 
 arrayed in the most suitable garments I could find 
 
Sweeping a Crossing. 133 
 
 about the house. Underneath my bodice, for warmth 
 and inspiration, I wrapped about me a copy of the 
 Times. I wore the black serge dress that had done 
 duty a few months previous, when I held rhe re- 
 sponsible position of parlourmaid in Kensington, an 
 old light coat, not of the newest cut, and a black 
 cashmere shawl folded into a tippet for my neck. 
 My head-covering was an old felt hat which had the 
 appearance of having been through violent spasms 
 and contortions. In order to disguise myself as 
 much as possible until I could get out of my own 
 neighbourhood, I had drawn a thick black veil over 
 my face. Bearing in mind the story I had heard 
 of the wealthy sweep of Marylebone Road, I wended 
 my way towards the goal of his wondrous success. 
 I hurried along Harley Street and turned off into 
 the Marylebone Road, dragging my newly-purchased 
 brushwood broom after me. My costume was not 
 quite the orthodox thing for a sweep. The white 
 jacket must have looked somewhat peculiar and out 
 of place. What wonder that the butcher and baker 
 boys hooted me as I passed at a rapid gait ! " See 
 the dandy sweep ! Has yer got a licence, missus ?" 
 one of them called after me. No, I had not a licence ; 
 but I knew there were many other sweeps who also 
 did not possess that important document, and I did 
 not falter. A little fox-terrier, out for his morning 
 constitutional, sniffed scornfully and barked fero- 
 ciously at my heels, and such incidents tended only 
 to quicken my pace. 
 
 At last I found a crossing over which there seemed 
 to be no presiding genius, but I no sooner com- 
 menced operations than an angry-looking individual 
 
"MY COSTUME WAS NOT QUITE ORTHODOX." 
 
 (trom a Photograph by the London Stereoscopic Company.} 
 
Sweeping a Crossing. 135 
 
 appeared, broom in hand, and shook it in my face. 
 " Hi, there ! what ye doing with my pitch ? Ye'd 
 better move on." As I did not know just what 
 was the etiquette in vogue between members of the 
 sweep brigade, I concluded it better to move on, and 
 proceeded to Baker Street Station. 
 
 Many people were passing to and fro, and I 
 thought it might be well to make a pathway of my 
 own, a brand new one that no one could claim. I 
 plied my broom most vigorously right and left, and 
 did my best to clear a footroad across the mud for 
 the patrons of the Underground Railway. In spite of 
 my efforts, my work showed amateurishness. The 
 style of broom I had chosen was an awkward one for 
 me to handle, and for a while I only succeeded in 
 spattering mud about. After great trouble and per- 
 severance I made a path which looked as if a snake 
 had wriggled across the road, and left a scalloped 
 track behind him. When I stepped back upon the 
 pavement to view my handiwork I felt that I had 
 really earned a few pennies, for the route I had made 
 was useful and ornamental as well. 
 
 The railway passengers began to cross over, but I 
 did not hold out my hand for coppers, neither did I 
 importune any one. I had determined to stand on all 
 the dignity I had left, feeling that the labourer was 
 worthy of his hire. People walked on my crossing, 
 but nobody offered me payment. They took particular 
 pains to keep themselves in the path, even in its most 
 waggly parts. I began to despise them, and in my 
 heart I called them paupers, to patronise my crossing 
 and not be willing to pay for the privilege. They had 
 no more right to take advantage of the track 1 had 
 
136 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 prepared than they had to go into a restaurant and 
 eat a dinner for which they refused to pay. I felt 
 that they were the beggars, not I. In my opinion, 
 there was but one alternative for the person who was 
 unwilling or unable to pay, and that was to go round 
 on the outside through the mud. There was only 
 one man who seemed to give the matter a thought. 
 He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a 
 penny, then put it back again. He had probably 
 expected to contribute a halfpenny, and found that he 
 had not that coin in his possession. 
 
 In an hour I had become disgusted with the Baker 
 Street Station neighbourhood, and I had grave doubts 
 concerning the truthfulness of the wealthy sweep story. 
 I could see no chance of riding in broughams or keep- 
 ing country houses if I stuck to cross-sweeping in that 
 vicinity, so I pulled my shawl about me, trying as best 
 I could to cover up my white coat, and dragged my 
 broom to Regent Street. I attracted little attention 
 as I walked from Oxford Circus to Piccadilly. It was 
 about one o'clock and many of the crossings were 
 deserted. The sweeps were perhaps taking lunch. 
 No one presided over the Vigo Street crossing, and I 
 took up my stand there. But I did not attempt to 
 sweep, thinking that, if the owner of the crossing 
 suddenly made his appearance, I could deny any 
 accusations he might make against my honesty by 
 saying that I had simply stopped to rest a bit. 
 
 As I leaned on my broom I became intensely in- 
 terested in the people who passed me. It was gloomy, 
 muddy, and wet, and 1 took it for granted that those 
 who walked on such a day walked because they could 
 not afford to ride. A woman journalist of some fame 
 
Sweeping a Crossing. 137 
 
 but small fortune went by, clasping an envelope, which 
 from its size and appearance I felt quite positive must 
 contain manuscript. I did not ask her for a copper, 
 for I was somehow under the impression that she was 
 carrying her copy to Fleet Street because she had no 
 stamps to send it by post. 
 
 " Belong here?" asked a man, sidling up to me. 
 I recognised him as a sweep from across the way. 
 
 " Oh, no, I'm only resting," I answered wearily. 
 
 " It's hard times," he continued with an attempt 
 at being sociable. " I've only took in tuppence to- 
 day, but I've done some big splashing on the rest of 
 'em." 
 
 " Splashing ! What for ? " I asked. 
 
 " Well, ye must be a new un if ye don't know that 
 trick ! When I asks a man or a woman for a copper 
 and they doesn't give it, I just splashes 'em ; that's 
 all." 
 
 What a pity I had not heard that before I took 
 my stand near Baker Street Station ! 
 
 The sweep went back to his stand, and I continued 
 to view the procession of bedrabbled humanity that 
 passed me. " Poor girl ! " I heard someone say in 
 pitying tones, and, looking up, I saw a much-painted 
 and powdered, gaudily-dressed woman near me. 
 " Take this," and she thrust a threepenny-bit into my 
 hand. I managed to stammer out " Thank-you " as 
 she sauntered on. It needed not a second look to tell 
 me the class to which she belonged. Society, the 
 pulpit, and the press number her among the " fallen." 
 I have since been told that it is from these women 
 that crossing-sweeps obtain most of their pennies. 
 
 About two o'clock the rain began to fall, and, as I 
 
138 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 was not provided with an umbrella, I feared that a 
 prolonged experiment in the street-sweeping line 
 might unfit me for future explorations in various 
 directions, so I turned my face homewards, with only 
 the threepenny-bit as the result of my morning's 
 work. 
 
 I have since taken the trouble to interview between 
 twenty and thirty sweeps on the subject of taking out 
 licences. I find that the majority of them do not 
 approve of the licence system, which asks them to 
 invest five shillings before they commence business. 
 The matter of the licence is often neglected — perhaps 
 I should say forgotten — till a policeman or other 
 official gives them a gentle reminder. 
 
 I have also attempted to inspire them with a sense 
 of the dignity of their calling, and have found it rather 
 a difficult task, although they all agree with me that 
 people who patronise their crossings should pay for it. 
 Some of them have confidentially admitted that the 
 stories of suffering wives, and children down with the 
 measles or scarlet-fever, are invented to reach the sym- 
 pathies of the public ; but they justify themselves in the 
 belief that they are doing evil that good may come, and 
 that what pennies they receive are given in charity. 
 I have recommended to them that they get some sort 
 of halfpenny-in-the-slot machine and place it in such 
 a position that passers-by must see it and feel it 
 incumbent upon them to contribute a halfpenny. 
 
 I am sure that such an arrangement would serve 
 the purpose much better than the present method of 
 collecting their dues. 
 
A DAY WITH THE FLOWER-GIRLS. 
 
 'VIOLETS, sweet violets! A penny a bunch !" From 
 ten o'clock in the morning until the first hour of 
 midnight this cry of the flower-sellers may be heard 
 in the London streets. It usually issues from female 
 throats, although occasionally the clamour is rein- 
 forced by a masculine voice, which, however, could 
 scarcely be more unpleasant or less musical than the 
 voices of the women ; for they are not a pre- 
 possessing set of women in any respect, these London 
 retailers of Flora's treasures. Dirty, coarse-featured, 
 harsh-spoken, with draggled skirts, ragged shawls 
 and befeathered hats of the latest coster style, they 
 seem ill-suited to be the vendors of velvety violets 
 and waxen lilies. Travellers who have seen the 
 Continental flower-girls in their bright, picturesque 
 costumes that, in point of attractiveness, vie with the 
 blossoms they offer to passers-by, cannot help but 
 wish that the street-corners and circuses of gloomy 
 London might also be thus enlivened. In accordance 
 with the law of the eternal fitness of things, it is 
 proper enough that those who brush our streets and 
 sweep our chimneys should be muddy and grimy, 
 but there is something incongruous in the sight of 
 an unkempt, vicious-looking female, handling and 
 selling beautiful flowers, while in shrill, clarion 
 tones she tells us that she has " Lubly biolets, English 
 
140 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 biolets. No furrin biolets without a smell, is these, 
 mum ! " I am convinced that smiles and fame and 
 a fortune await the dainty dealer in boutonnieres, who, 
 attractive herself, and attractively attired, will take 
 her stand for a few weeks at Oxford, Piccadilly, or 
 Ludgate Circus. 
 
 To discover something of the ins and outs and 
 the ups and downs of flower-selling, and to investi- 
 gate into the ways of living and the aims and 
 ambitions of the London flower-girls, I spent a 
 Saturday in February among them. Had my object 
 been the establishment of a new dynasty of flower- 
 sellers, I should only too gladly have attired myself 
 after the manner of the Italian girls, and have turned 
 into a living London reality my notion of the ideal 
 flower-girl. But under the circumstances I thought 
 it better to leave the introduction of the new order 
 to some other daring spirit, while taking for myself 
 the much more difficult and unpleasant task of 
 searching after the merits and demerits of the 
 present race. 
 
 I chose Saturday for my exploit, thinking that 
 matinee afternoon must naturally be the harvest- 
 time of the week. At eight o'clock in the morning, 
 arrayed in black dress, black shawl, and brown straw 
 hat trimmed with pink roses, I visited the Covent 
 Garden Flower Market to make my purchases at 
 wholesale rates. Having, in the privacy of my own 
 house, tried the effect of a great, heavy, cumbersome 
 basket, such as is commonly used, dangling from 
 my neck, I decided that it was far too ugly and 
 weighty for me to handle ; so I carried in its stead 
 a light round basket, and tied it about my neck with 
 
A Day with the F lower-Girls. 141 
 
 a ribbon. When I arrived, the proprietors of the 
 various stalls in the market were doing a thriving 
 business. Scores of coster-women, with the appear- 
 ance of having been neither washed nor combed since 
 they got out of bed, were rushing about from stall 
 to stall, bent on discovering where they could buy 
 the most flowers for the least money. " How much ? " 
 they would ask, snatching a cluster of lilies or hya- 
 cinths from a box and holding it in the face of the 
 dealer. On being told the price, their faces would 
 contort into a fiendish scowl, as they answered, " Go 
 'long ! What yer sayin' ? Don't ye want me to make 
 no prufifit ? " 
 
 The flower market usually closes shortly after 
 nine o'clock, and it is between eight and nine — in 
 order to have their wares as fresh as possible — that 
 the girls make their daily purchases. I followed 
 several of them about the place while they were 
 in pursuit of their bargains. Their manners and 
 language were something of a revelation to me. I 
 had expected to find them coarse and rough, but 
 I was not prepared for such obscene and profane 
 talk as I heard. With many, all semblance of 
 womanly modesty seemed to be a thing of the 
 long-gone past. They swore at each other and 
 coquetted with the market men. While holding 
 out their aprons to receive the flowers for which they 
 had paid, they would slyly pass their hands into 
 boxes in their vicinity and take possession of many 
 a bunch for which they had not paid. I afterwards 
 learned that this habit of petty thievery among them 
 is one of their greatest sources of profit, for the sales 
 of flowers thus obtained are, of course, all gain. 
 
142 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 On the morning in question violets sold whole- 
 sale at the rate of sixpence and eightpence a dozen 
 bunches ; lilies of the valley were tenpence a dozen 
 sprays. 
 
 When the- girls had completed their purchases, 
 some of those who lived near went home to arrange 
 their baskets, while others sat down on stones and 
 stools outside the market, and proceeded to get 
 ready for the day's work. I became intensely 
 interested in watching them assort their flowers. 
 In the majority of cases I noticed that from two 
 market bunches they very deftly and quickly manu- 
 factured three. Then sticks and strings were brought 
 into requisition, and in less than half an hour all 
 was in readiness. I approached one of these girls 
 in a meek, bashful way, and asked her if she would 
 show me how to arrange my basket. Her refusal 
 to help me was particularly emphatic — so much so 
 that I thought it discreet to leave her — for in the 
 most pronounced Cockney she informed me that I 
 had best move on and away, else she would give 
 me a "jab in the eye." I held no further converse 
 with her, feeling that, although under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances I was capable of holding my own in a 
 war of words, I was more than likely to come out 
 only second best in a fist encounter. 
 
 In a group just outside the market were three 
 generations of flower-sellers. The oldest woman 
 was about fifty years of age. Her daughter and 
 granddaughter stood near sorting flowers, and after- 
 wards each took her way to different parts of 
 London. I have been told that the business of 
 flower-selling is hereditary, and that nearly all of 
 
A Day with the Flower-Girls. 143 
 
 the London flower-girls have, or had, mothers, 
 grandmothers, and even great-grandmothers, engaged 
 in the same line. The trade is handed down from 
 mother to daughter, and the girls have often given 
 to them a little hoard of money laid aside by their 
 ancestors. 
 
 After I had purchased two dozen bunches of 
 violets at eightpence a dozen, two clusters of 
 lilies at tenpence each, and a bundle of moss for a 
 penny, I obtained the permission of a woman in the 
 market to sit down on an up-turned basket in her 
 stall and complete the arrangement of my outfit for 
 the day. My ideas on this subject had been more 
 theoretical than practical ; for, with all my preparations 
 for making an artistic-looking basket, I had neglected 
 to provide myself with a very important item — 
 a shingle, with small holes, in which to place my 
 flowers, to make them stand upright. The market- 
 woman came to my assistance with a bit of paste- 
 board, and with my pocket-knife I bored holes the 
 proper size to hold the stems of my bunches. After 
 the violets were fitted in, I divided the lilies into 
 clusters of three sprays each and put them in odd 
 corners. Then between the rows of violets I sprinkled 
 the green moss. Once finished, my basket was cer- 
 tainly a dainty-looking affair, and I felt no doubt 
 that I should carry on a good trade. 
 
 As I left Covent Garden, and hurried along the 
 Strand, I think I must have had the air of a rather 
 superior sort of flower-girl, for several persons eyed 
 me rather curiously. When, at last, having reached 
 Piccadilly Circus and taken my stand under a lamp- 
 post, I opened my mouth to inform the passers-by 
 
144 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 that I had " Violets, sweet violets, at a penny a bunch," 
 I started at the sound of my own voice. 
 
 I had not been there many minutes before I heard 
 someone say, " Oh, what a beautiful basket ! " 
 
 Turning to the speaker, I picked out one of the 
 bunches and repeated the price of my wares. The 
 admirer of my basket was a young lady accompanied 
 by a gentleman, who immediately purchased one 
 bunch of lilies and two of violets. 
 
 He looked at me kindly and said, " Selling many 
 flowers to-day ? " 
 
 " Not yet," I answered ; " I'm just out. This is 
 my first day in business." 
 
 The young lady smiled encouragingly, and said, 
 " You'll surely sell a good many. You look so nice 
 and neat, and your basket is so pretty ! " 
 
 As the gentleman was handing me fivepence, his 
 fair companion suggested that he give me an extra 
 penny for luck, so from that deal I received sixpence. 
 
 My artistic-looking basket attracted many cus- 
 tomers who, I felt sure, would not otherwise have 
 thought of buying flowers. 
 
 " My, what a fine spread you have ! " observed a 
 young man to whom I sold a boutonniere. 
 
 In a little cushion at the side I carried some pins, 
 so I fastened the violets on his coat-lapel, and he, 
 too, smiled benignly upon me and gave me twopence 
 instead of a penny. 
 
 Noticing a grey-haired, benevolent-looking lady 
 standing at a shop window, and thinking she might 
 be a possible customer, I went towards her. 
 
 " Violets, lady, violets ? " I asked, looking at her 
 in a pitifully appealing way. 
 
"I FELT MEEK AND LOWLY." 
 (From a Photograph by the London Stereoscopic Company.) 
 
 K 
 
146 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 " No, no, child," she replied, almost savagely ; 
 and., after that repulse, I made no further advances to 
 benevolent-looking ladies. It did not take me long 
 to discover that the men were my best customers, 
 and that those accompanied by ladies were always 
 the most generous. Were I a permanent flower-girl, 
 I should devote my attention almost exclusively to 
 such men. He would be a man of particularly stony 
 heart who could refuse to buy a bouquet after the 
 fair creature at his side had said — " Oh, what beauti- 
 ful violets ! How artistically they are arranged ! " 
 
 Two or three times I left my post and wandered 
 along the middle of the sidewalk, where I did quite a 
 flourishing business. 
 
 " Get out of this ! Can't ye see ye block the 
 way ? " said a policeman, taking me by the shoulders 
 and pushing me towards the edge of the walk. 
 
 It was wonderful what that change of costume had 
 done for me ! With the clothes I had donned, and 
 the basket I carried, I seemed to have put on a new 
 character and a different temperament. That day I 
 felt like a flower-girl — not, certainly, like my coarse- 
 voiced associates who were gathered across the way 
 about the fountain, but like a meek and lowly 
 dealer in blossoms, with a strange sort of impression 
 that, in some way, my daily bread depended on my 
 selling those flowers. 
 
 Had I been my natural self when that policeman 
 spoke to me, Piccadilly Circus would have been 
 enlivened by a combat between an officer of the law 
 and an angry maiden ; but I was not myself — I was 
 somebody else — and I received his rebuke mildly as a 
 lamb, and returned to my position under the lamp-post. 
 
A Bay with the Flower-Girls. 147 
 
 As matinee time came on, my flowers sold even 
 more readily, and my basket was soon more than half 
 empty. Just then I noticed one of the flower-girls 
 from the fountain coming over towards me. When 
 she reached my stand she shook her fist angrily 
 /a.t me. 
 
 " Yer hundersellin' us ! What d'yer mean by it ? " 
 she demanded. 
 
 "Why, what have I done to you?" I asked, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Yer sellin' violets for a penny a bunch the same 
 as we's selling for tuppence. Wait till I catch ye! 
 A laidy just said we wus cheatin' her." 
 
 In the short time I had sold flowers I had become 
 a marvel of meekness and gentleness, and I did not 
 stop to argue the point out with her. " Violets, sweet 
 violets, a penny a bunch ! " I sang out as a dashing 
 young man passed me, and my discomfited opponent 
 left me, muttering threats of dreadful vengeance to be 
 visited upon me in future. 
 
 " Violets, sir?" I said to a kind-looking, red- 
 whiskered man. He shook his head, whereupon I 
 gave him a sorrowful, melancholy look. The man 
 turned back. " I think I'll have a couple of bunches," 
 he said, fumbling in his pocket for change. My look 
 of woe-begoneness had its effect. While I stood 
 there, three men of clerical dress and mien passed me, 
 but they did not purchase violets. 
 
 "Yes, we must take a bunch to Auntie," I heard 
 someone say, and then, "Why, she's got just enough 
 for us." 
 
 "How much?" asked a pretty little boy in a 
 sailor suit, taking up a bunch of lilies. 
 
148 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 "Threepence," I answered. 
 
 The important-looking man who held the little 
 boy's hand gave me a sixpence for the lilies and two 
 bunches of violets. 
 
 "Keep the change," said he; "now you're sold 
 out, and you'll have to fill your basket again." 
 
 So many people spoke kindly to me that after- 
 noon that I began to think that the world was not so 
 hard, after all, even for a flower-girl. 
 
 It was four o'clock, and my basket was empty. I 
 tried to refill it by jetting flowers from some of my 
 companions in trade, but they demanded such ex- 
 orbitant prices for their wares that I decided to 
 return to Covent Garden and buy another dozen 
 bunches from the general dealers there. I could not 
 procure them as cheaply as I had done in the morn- 
 ing, and was obliged to pay the regular price, a penny 
 a bunch. However, they were large, and I thought 
 ought to retail for twopence a bunch. 
 
 When I passed again through the Strand people 
 were going home from the matinees, and I stopped in 
 front of two of the theatres hoping to make some 
 sales. It was a bad time. Those who wanted flowers 
 had been supplied before going to the theatre, and I 
 did not sell any. 
 
 A poorly-clad little girl of eleven or twelve years 
 old, carrying a few sprays of drooping hyacinths, 
 stopped me with " How much for violets, missus? " 
 
 " Twopence a bunch," I answered. 
 
 " Make 'em cheaper," she pleaded ; " that's all I 
 can sell 'em for." 
 
 Then I realised that she was one of my kind, 
 and when I knew this mite of humanity was in the 
 
A Day with the Flower-Girls. 149 
 
 'profession/' I sold her three bunches for twopence, 
 the price of one. What was my loss was her gain. 
 If she sold them, she made fourpence on the 
 bargain. 
 
 I returned to Piccadilly Circus with nine bunches 
 of violets. 
 
 " I'll take a bunch," said a young woman, handing 
 me a penny." 
 
 "Twopence, please, lady," I answered sadly, but 
 firmly. I was becoming a thorough business woman, 
 and was determined to sell my goods at a profit or 
 not sell them at all. The young woman walked away 
 Without buying. It grew darker and colder, and I 
 still had nine bunches of violets to dispose of. My 
 bare hands were getting purple, and I was hungry, 
 having had no luncheon. The Circus began to get 
 deserted, so I decided to move my stand of operations 
 westward. Walking leisurely towards Oxford Circus, 
 I repeated, at stated intervals, my very subdued cry 
 of " Violets ! violets ! twopence a bunch ! " but there 
 seemed to be no magic in the words. No buyers 
 came to my call. Half-way between the Circuses a 
 swagger-looking man rushed past me, threw two 
 pennies into my basket, refused to take the flowers 
 I held out to him, and left me bewildered, wondering 
 whether he was a sinner trying to ease his conscience 
 by doing a good deed in a wicked world, a lunatic, or 
 a philanthropist. I was sorry he did not take his 
 due, for I was as anxious to dispose of my flowers 
 as to take in money. I wanted to go home, but I 
 had a certain pride which forbade my returning 
 home with such a quantity of unsold goods on my 
 hands. 
 
150 
 
 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 At six o'clock I was still standing at a corner 
 of Oxford Circus, when I suddenly remembered that 
 a literary acquaintance of mine (a well-known author), 
 who was a recent convert to the " newer journalism," 
 had a dinner-party on that evening, and it occurred 
 to me that my violets would make very appro- 
 priate favours for his guests. My tired feet bore 
 me in the direction of Regent's Park, where, after 
 sundry explanations of myself and my business, 
 I induced the great man to purchase my violets. He 
 very generously gave me two shillings for the lot, 
 an advance of fourpence on the price asked. Thus 
 it was that the bread I cast upon the waters when I* 
 sold the little flower-girl three bunches for twopence* 
 brought me immediate results. 
 
 Returning home, I settled up my day-book, and 
 this is how the page stood : — 
 
 Paid Out. 
 
 2 Dozen violets at Sd. 
 
 1 Dozen violets at is. 
 
 2 Clusters lilies at iod. 
 I Bundle moss 
 
 s. d. 
 I 4 
 i o 
 
 Took In. 
 
 24 Sprays lilies at id. 
 
 1 Dozen violets at 2d. 
 
 2 Dozen violets at id. 
 Had given me 
 
 Profit _ 
 
 2 O 
 
 2 O 
 2 O 
 
 o 5 
 
 tJ. 
 
 2 4 
 
 When my accounts were settled, I was not over- 
 
A Day with the Flower-Girls. 151 
 
 whelmed with the amount of my profits. Two shillings 
 and fourpence a day was not a large wage, to be 
 sure ! However, I took into consideration the fact 
 that it was my first day, that I was new to the 
 business, and I felt that, if I continued to work at 
 the trade, I might reasonably expect to sell more 
 flowers and make greater profits. Perhaps by selling 
 flowers in the evening, as well as during the day, I 
 might be able to make three shillings a day after I 
 got fairly started, but that was as high as my am- 
 bition allowed me to soar. That would only be 
 eighteen shillings a week. Yet I have been told 
 that the majority of the London flower-girls usually 
 take in more than twice, and sometimes three times, 
 that amount of money during the week, and I am 
 in a quandary as to how the thing is done. 
 
 But there are certain tricks of the trade, such as 
 the dividing of the market bunches, taking posses- 
 sion of more flowers than they pay for, selling ten 
 bunches for a dozen, and other similar schemes. 
 
 Although I have not, perhaps, spent as much 
 time in investigating into the condition of the 
 flower-girls as some may think necessary before 
 passing an opinion, I am bound to say that, from 
 what I have seen and learned of them, I cannot look 
 upon them as a particularly deserving class of indi- 
 viduals. They are unprepossessing in appearance, loud 
 and rude in their manners, and I am inclined to think 
 that the morals of many of them would not bear a 
 close scrutiny. Some charitable ladies who have 
 attempted to work among them say that they are a 
 difficult class to reach, and that sympathy and kind- 
 ness are usually wasted upon them. Not having 
 
152 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 tried the work of reformation, I am not able to speak 
 authoritatively on that point ; and I should not caie 
 to go as a missionary amongst them. They impress 
 me as being of a *too combative disposition to make 
 pieasant companions. 
 
AMONG THE LAUNDRY-GIRLS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHY AND HOW I BECAME ONE OF THEM. 
 THE laundry question is like the domestic servant 
 problem. It interests everyone in all classes of 
 society. If it is true that " civilised man cannot live 
 without cooks," it is equally true that he cannot do 
 without a laundress. Indeed, a man's happiness is to 
 a greater degree dependent upon his laundress than 
 his cook. Nothing can so quickly transform a kind, 
 thoughtful, and good-tempered man into a frightful 
 specimen of total depravity as a badly-ironed shirt- 
 front or a limply-starched collar. Even men of the 
 most angelic dispositions and piously inclined have 
 been known to lapse into profanity over just such 
 trifles. On second thought, " trifles " is not the word 
 I should have used, for I agree that, of all the deplor- 
 able-looking objects in the world, a man not properly 
 " done up " is the worst. A man's personal appear- 
 ance depends quite as much upon his shirt-fronts and 
 collars and cuffs as a woman's good looks depend 
 upon the way she arranges her hair. 
 
 Despite the fact that I live in the days of the 
 " new womanhood," which demands stiff shirts, high 
 collars, neckties, and waistcoats as proofs of complete 
 " emancipation," I still hold to the belief that boiled 
 shirts are, or should be, a man's exclusive property, 
 and I can readily understand his objection to the 
 
154 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 " new woman " who, in her fierce clamour for what she 
 calls her " rights," will not stop to consider the wrongs 
 she is inflicting on the opposite sex, and, not content 
 with having, in some professions, deprived man of 
 his means of livelihood, would now take away from 
 him his very clothes. 
 
 There is one thing in connection with the sub- 
 ject of laundry work that I have never been able 
 to understand, and that is the rooted objection that 
 most men have to paying their washerwomen. One 
 would think that, dependent as they are upon these 
 women for half their life's happiness, they would, if 
 they could, pay them promptly and without protest. 
 Why men always object to paying laundry bills is 
 something beyond my comprehension. Bachelors in 
 good standing, socially and financially, who are noted 
 for discharging every other obligation, even to their 
 tailors, will let the poor laundress wait for weeks, 
 months, and sometimes years, and then allow her to 
 sue them for her long-accumulated bill. They seem 
 to do these things on general principles. It was but 
 a few weeks ago that the papers reported the case of a 
 nobleman who, out of pure contrariness, refused for 
 three years to pay his laundry bill, although perfectly 
 able to do so ; and it was only after he was brought 
 into court and the judge had remonstrated with him, 
 giving him the choice of either paying up or going to 
 gaol, that he would even consider the matter seriously. 
 Laundresses say that men of means give them more 
 trouble than any other customers ; and proprietors of 
 lodging-houses and hotels assert that well-to-do men, 
 who can always be relied upon to pay for their board 
 and apartments when due, will each week pin their 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 155 
 
 laundry accounts upon the wall, until in time the 
 pattern of the wall-paper is almost hidden from sight 
 by these unreceipted bills. It is easy enough to 
 understand why the man in the state of "broke" 
 allows such things to happen ; but why gentlemen of 
 means should be so prejudiced is a puzzle that I 
 doubt if even they themselves would be able to 
 solve. 
 
 About once in a decade the public is agitated over 
 some new or old phase of the laundry question. A 
 few years ago the whole of the United States was 
 nearly frightened out of existence over the subject. 
 Somebody (I believe it w r as not a newspaper reporter) 
 one day took his linen to a Chinese laundry, and saw 
 a Chinaman in the other end of the room with a white 
 scar on his face. "White spots are symbols of 
 leprosy," thought he, and then he went to talk the 
 matter over with a medical man, who immediately 
 got out his books on the subject. In a week the 
 papers had taken the matter up, and John Chinaman 
 was in a fair way to lose all his customers. Every- 
 body talked about the dangers of leprosy. People 
 who lived in hotels, flats, or boarding-houses, where 
 washing must be sent out, were thrown into violent 
 hysterics when told by the doctors that many of the 
 Chinese laundrymen were lepers, and that the disease 
 could be communicated by means of clean linen, 
 until finally America became the land of the great 
 unwashed. The baskets of soiled linen got full to 
 overflowing, because people were afraid to send them 
 to the laundries, while the shops, especially men's 
 furnishing houses, carried on a thriving trade. Ladies 
 living in hotels, where conspicuous among the rules 
 
156 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 of the house was the legend, " No Washing Allowed 
 in the Rooms," locked and barred their bedroom 
 doors, and washed handkerchiefs and stockings in the 
 wash-bowl or bath-tub, then hung them on the bed- 
 posts and chair-backs to dry, and with the solitary iron 
 they had surreptitiously purchased, smoothed the 
 clothes out on the floor. 
 
 At that particular time the politician took advan- 
 tage of the panic to announce from legislative halls and 
 lecture platforms that " the Chinese must go," and 
 very few there were who ventured to contradict him. 
 After a while the tumult subsided, and it was suc- 
 ceeded by the " typhus scare " and the " cholera 
 scare." 
 
 We make a speciality of " scares " in the United 
 States. Sometimes we are able to run two or three 
 at once, but we are never without one. Our peculiar 
 temperament and the variable climate demand this 
 sort of excitement, and when one " scare " is past, and 
 another takes its place, we are neither better nor 
 worse off than we were before. 
 
 I do not suppose that I should ever again have 
 thought of the "laundry scare" had I not gone to 
 reside in lodgings for a time, and so put on my 
 own responsibility as regarded the choice of a laun- 
 dress. Even then I did not trouble myself much 
 about it, except to tell the housemaid to get me a 
 laundress, and she provided me with the person 
 who did the washing for the other lodgers. For a 
 few weeks all went on well enough, until I one day 
 picked up a medical paper and read an article about 
 " Infection from Laundries," in which the writer told 
 terrible tales of how inoffensive people, especially 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 157 
 
 those living in lodgings, suddenly found themselves 
 stricken down with smallpox, scarlet-fever, or diph- 
 theria, all because their clothes were washed under 
 unsanitary conditions. The writer warned his readers 
 against sending their linen to laundries consisting 
 of but one room, which served not only for wash- 
 house and drying-grounds, but bedroom, sitting- 
 room, kitchen, and goat-stable as well. When 1 
 carne to the part which advised everybody to find 
 out for himself and herself just how and where their 
 clothes were washed, it dawned upon me that, in 
 failing to make the acquaintance of my own laun- 
 dress, I had been guilty of a crime against myself 
 and society at large. What if I should get smallpox 
 or scarlet-Lver, all because of my neglect of this 
 matter ! 
 
 I rang the bell for the housemaid. Again and 
 again I turned the handle, until peal after peal re- 
 sounded through the house. 
 
 " Martha, who washes my clothes ? " I demanded, 
 when at the end of half an hour's ringing, she made 
 her appearance. 
 
 " I think her name is Mrs. Johnstone, miss," 
 answered Martha, looking at me in a strangely sus- 
 picious way ; and then she added, " Did she lose 
 anything last week ? " 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you are not sure of 
 the woman's name ? " I asked, paying no attention 
 to her solicitude in regard to the number of " pieces " 
 that had been returned. 
 
 "I'm quite sure it's Johnstone," she answered 
 again, this time with more decision. 
 
 " What is her address ? " 
 
158 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 " I can't tell you at all, miss." 
 
 " That's strange. I must know where she lives. 
 I want to call on her." 
 
 Then Martha suggested that the landlady would 
 probably know, so she went down-stairs and re- 
 turned with the information that Mrs. Johnstone lived 
 " somewhere near 'Ammersmith," but nobody knew 
 just where. 
 
 It was Tuesday, and the clothes would not be 
 returned until Saturday, and there seemed to be no 
 way of obtaining the address before that time. I 
 blamed the washerwoman for not having yet sent 
 me a bill with her name and address at the top, and 
 I despised the landlady and all her lodgers because 
 of their stupidity. To discover the whereabouts of 
 a Mrs. Johnstone who lived somewhere near Ham- 
 mersmith looked like a feat far beyond my powers 
 of accomplishment, but that medical paper had 
 wrought my nerves up to such a state that I could 
 neither eat nor write nor sleep until I had at least 
 made an attempt to find her. 
 
 I went to the post-office and consulted that part 
 of the " Directory " given up to the J's, and the 
 multitude of Mrs. Johnstones who lived somewhere 
 near Hammersmith and took in washing threatened 
 to deprive me of my reason. Visions of a horrible 
 hovel, with babies and goats and chickens galore, 
 and a sickly-looking woman washing my best hand- 
 kerchiefs in poverty, hunger, and dirt, rose continually 
 before me, and would not be dispelled. Yet I could 
 spare neither the time nor the money that the finding 
 of Mrs. Johnstone would involve. What little reason 
 I had left told me that the only thing I could do 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 159 
 
 was to wait till Saturday ; so I gave Martha in- 
 structions to get the woman's full name and address 
 when she returned the clothes. Then I tried to 
 compose myself to write a paper on " The Duty of 
 S^lf-Control," but my thoughts were all of wash-tubs 
 and ironing-boards, and I decided that I ought to 
 know more about the laundry business than I did. I 
 began to think not only about small washerwomen, 
 but steam-laundries and laundry-girls, who, according 
 to common report, were the most wicked of their sex 
 in. London. I had heard direful tales of the way they 
 pulled each other's hair, scratched one another's eyes 
 out, and insulted good people who tried to reform 
 them. 
 
 Having once got so far interested in the subject, 
 it was but natural that I should follow it up in the 
 only way that I could conceive of getting correct 
 information, and that was by becoming a laundry- 
 girl myself. 
 
 In order to get a situation, I answered all the 
 advertisements for " learners " that I could find in the 
 morning papers, and then I inserted an advertisement 
 on my own account : — 
 
 A YOUNG WOMAN wants a situation in a large 
 first-class Laundry, where she can learn the 
 business. No wages. 
 
 It was on that last clause that I most depended 
 for my answers, for I knew there were many people 
 who were waiting to secure something for nothing. I 
 was particularly careful in the wording of my adver- 
 tisement, so that it should not in any way resemble 
 the one I had inserted when T sought a place in 
 domestic service. I determined that, in this instance, 
 
160 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 I would not pose as an " educated and refined young 
 woman." That sort of thing could not be tried 
 again. The proprietor of a laundry would not know 
 how to " place " such qualities. 
 
 While I waited for applicants for my services, 
 which I had no doubt would be numerous, I busied 
 myself in preparing for a week in a laundry. I got 
 together a suit of clothes neither conspicuously un- 
 becoming nor altogether too nice — a sort of medium 
 between the coster and shop-girl style — in which I 
 might apply for a place ; and I bought a black-and- 
 white polka-dot blouse and apron for work in the 
 laundry. The subject of references would not, I 
 thought, be so troublesome as it had been when I was 
 seeking a place as housemaid, but I arranged to have 
 a reference given if it should be required. I feared 
 that my greatest difficulty would be my American 
 accent, which for the past three months I had tried to 
 lose (for professional purposes only). But it was 
 still quite as pronounced as on the day I arrived in 
 London, and was continually getting me into trouble 
 when I endeavoured to pass for somebody else. Yet 
 now I trusted to Providence that I would not be 
 called upon to account for it when I applied for a 
 situation in a laundry, because, once asked if I were 
 an American, it was always necessary for me to 
 depart from strict veracity in order to explain how I 
 happened to be in London. 
 
 Much to my disappointment, I received no an- 
 swers on the next day nor the day following, and 
 my faith in advertising as a means of obtaining any- 
 thing and everything began to waver. At the end of 
 the week one lone letter was handed to me. It was 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 161 
 
 from the Y and Z Sanitary Laundry in an 
 
 East London suburb, and in it I was informed that in 
 this laundry there was just such a place as I had 
 advertised for, and I was asked to call on Satur- 
 day morning-. I had also another appointment at 
 ten o'clock on Saturday with the only person who 
 had answered one of the many letters I had written 
 applying for a place. This was in the neighbourhood 
 of Streatham, and I went there first. 
 
 Mrs. S , the " proprietress " of the place, opened 
 
 the door. From a height of six feet and a breadth of 
 little less, she looked at me in amazement when I 
 told her I was " Lizzie Barnes," who had written to 
 her for a place as "learner." It was the same old 
 story, " too little ! " I assured her that, though small, 
 my strength was little short of that possessed by 
 Samson, and I reiterated the statement I had made 
 in my letter to her that I could " iron good." 
 
 The result was that in half an hour Mrs. S 
 
 concluded to give me a trial, not only at the ironing- 
 board, but in what she called the " washus." She 
 made no remarks about my American accent, neither 
 did she ask for references, and I concluded it would 
 be well for me to accept the situation, not knowing 
 whether it would be possible to secure another one. 
 
 While talking with Mrs. S , it occurred to me 
 
 that the proprietors of the Y and Z Laundry 
 
 might not be so favourably impressed with my abilities 
 as a laundress, so I told her I would like to try the 
 place. She explained that her laundry (" landry " she 
 called it) was only a small one, where but six girls were 
 employed, and that all the work was done by hand. 
 The " washus " was in the basement of the house, but 
 L 
 
1 62 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 the rest of the work was done in a red-brick building, 
 which I could see in the rear of the house. From the 
 windows I noticed several girls ironing, while in the 
 yard a frowzy-haired young woman was taking down 
 clothes from the line. 
 
 41 Will you take me through the laundry ? " I 
 asked, curious to get a look at the girls with whom I 
 expected to associate for the next week or longer. 
 
 " Oh, no, Saturday is such a busy day, I can't do 
 that," she answered ; and, plead as I would, I could 
 not induce her to gratify my curiosity. But she was 
 very sociable, offered me a glass of ale, and, when 
 I refused it, said she thought I would have to take 
 beer if I went into the laundry business. Then the 
 question of " living in " came up. She was not par- 
 ticularly anxious that I should "live in," for, of 
 course, that would necessitate her giving me my 
 board ; but to " live in " was a part of my plan, 
 because all the girls lived there together, and Mrs. 
 
 S , remembering that, after all, I was not to 
 
 receive any wages, and that a person of my size was 
 not likely to have an enormous appetite, agreed to 
 " put me up " with the other girls. 
 
 I had engaged to go on the next Tuesday, and 
 was leaving the door, when I thought to ask if I 
 
 should have a bed to myself. Mrs. S was quite 
 
 surprised at the question, and explained that, as there 
 was but one room with three beds, and as I would 
 make the sixth girl, a bed to myself would be an 
 impossibility. I decided that I would prefer to " live 
 out " and board myself, and when I bade her good 
 morning, it was arranged that I was to go to work 
 the next Tuesday morning. 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 163 
 
 When I called at the Y and Z Sanitary 
 
 Laundry, I regretted my haste in engaging myself to 
 
 Mrs. S . This laundry was worked by steam ; 
 
 there were about thirty girls employed, and I felt sure 
 that the experience I would gain there would be of 
 greater advantage to me. But Mrs. Morris, the wife 
 of the proprietor of the laundry, was by no means at 
 first inclined to take me, because I seemed to know 
 nothing about the business. However, I assured her, 
 
 as I had done Mrs. S , that I could " iron good," 
 
 which was to a certain extent true. 
 
 " You mean you know how to do plain ironing ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Yes. When I lived home, I did all the family 
 washing and ironing," I answered ; and even now 
 I wonder how I ever dared to say it. 
 
 Mrs. Morris looked at me rather sharply when 
 I told her of my abilities in the way of washing and 
 ironing. 
 
 " Where was that ? " she asked. 
 
 Then a nursery rhyme of my childhood days ran 
 quickly through my mind — 
 
 ' ' Oh, what a tangled web we weave 
 When first we practise to deceive," 
 
 but, nevertheless, I answered, " In Australia." 
 
 " I knew you couldn't be a Londoner. I thought 
 you talked something like an American, but I sup- 
 pose the accent is about the same ? " said Mrs. 
 Morris. 
 
 " Yes ; I'm an Australian. I lived there with my 
 brother, but I came to London, and want to learn the 
 laundry business." 
 L 2 
 
164 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Why I declared myself an Australian I hardly 
 knew. I only thought I must say I was from some 
 place far away, as Mrs. Morris might ask me for more 
 particular references than I was prepared to give. 
 It was fortunate for me that she knew nothing 
 more about Australia than I knew, so that no em- 
 barrassment followed, except that, as I looked across 
 the room, one of the ironing-tables seemed suddenly 
 covered with stars and stripes that somehow worked 
 themselves into letters that spelt " TRAITOR ! " 
 
 Try as I would, I did not succeed in inspiring 
 Mrs. Morris with any sense of my capabilities, but 
 she took me to her husband to ask him what he 
 thought about it. He was also doubtful as to whether 
 I was strong enough, but I begged so hard to be 
 allowed to show what I could do, that he said, " Sup- 
 pose we try her, as she don't want any wages," and I 
 was engaged. 
 
 I was told to come in next Tuesday, at the same 
 
 hour at which I had agreed to go to Mrs. S * 
 
 With two situations on hand, the work to commence 
 at the same hour of the same day, it was clear I must 
 
 give up one of them ; so I wrote to Mrs. S that I 
 
 had decided not to take the place, as it would be 
 too expensive to " live out " and not agreeable to 
 " live in." 
 
 On Monday, having obtained Mrs. Johnstone's 
 address, I inspected her laundry, and found it to be a 
 very proper sort of establishment, with a good wash- 
 house, clean ironing-room, and a little yard for drying 
 clothes. But I did not send my clothes to her that 
 week ; I thought I would prefer to have them go to 
 the Y and Z Sanitary Laundry, where I 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 165 
 
 might have the novel experience of giving them my 
 personal attention, so I had them sent there, and on 
 Tuesday I was ready to commence my career as a 
 laundry-girl. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AT WORK IN A "SANITARY LAUNDRY." 
 
 An atmosphere thick with steam and the odour of 
 boiling soap-suds greeted me Tuesday morning, when 
 
 I arrived at the Y and Z Sanitary Laundry 
 
 to take my situation as a " learner." Ironing-machine, 
 wringer, and mangle were revolving at a rapid rate, 
 propelled by the large engine. Water was sputter- 
 ing from the boilers in which the clothes were being 
 washed ; a dozen girls and women were ironing, 
 others were starching, sprinkling, or folding clothes, 
 and a solitary water-soaked individual presided in 
 one corner over some wash-tubs, applying a scrub- 
 bing-brush to clothes that could not be put into 
 the machines. All the work was done in one im- 
 mense room, floored over with cement, which was a 
 succession of hills and hollows, more dangerous in 
 aspect than any American pavement. One side of 
 the room was taken up with an ironing-machine and 
 ironing-tables, the other side with the engine, boilers, 
 wringer, mangle, and wash-tubs. A corner, in the 
 vicinity of the engine, was floored over with some 
 boards, and fitted up with crude-looking tables and 
 a half-dozen large boxes. It was called the " sorting- 
 room," and it was there that I was conducted by Mrs. 
 
i66 
 
 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Morris when I had removed my coat and hat and 
 donned my working costume. Between the door and 
 the sorting corner there stretched a large body of 
 
 "A DOZEN GIRLS AND WOMEN WERE IRONING." 
 
 soapy water, several yards square, and in some places 
 almost ankle-deep. 
 
 " Pick your skirts up," said Mrs. Morris, as she 
 prepared to lead me across. I was on the point of 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. \6y 
 
 asking for a boat and ferryman, when I saw her 
 step into the water and walk bravely over ; so, 
 acting on the principle that the employee was no 
 better than the employer, I also walked across, and 
 landed with wet feet. I supposed that, of course, 
 there had been an accident, that one of the boilers 
 had turned upside down ; but I was afterwards told 
 that the pond was always there. It was let out from 
 the washing-machines in which the linen was boiled, 
 and allowed to flow about the place until it found its 
 way to a small sewer underneath a board, where it 
 sunk into the ground, and its place was taken by 
 more water from the next boiler of clothes. Taking 
 into consideration the fact that I was in a " sanitary " 
 laundry, it was only natural that I should have been 
 surprised that there were no pipes for the purpose of 
 carrying off this water. 
 
 In the sorting-corner I was introduced to Miss 
 Stebbins, the head packer and sorter, a position con- 
 sidered to be the most genteel in the business. 
 It was there that I spent the first three days of my 
 apprenticeship. 
 
 Until I was set to making figures with red cotton 
 I had never thought of connecting needlework and 
 laundry work. I had supposed my career as a 
 needlewoman was ended when, just before I left Mrs. 
 Allison's, I darned up the contents of the mending- 
 basket ; but darning was as nothing compared with 
 the making of figures with red cotton. With con- 
 stantly-pricked fingers and agitated temper, I tried 
 my best to stitch into the linen the numbers that 
 Miss Stebbins instructed me to make, and, after much 
 perseverance, I succeeded in learning all the figures 
 
i68 
 
 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Janie was a 
 everybody about 
 
 except 5 an d 6. Those two I would never have 
 learned to make had not Janie, one of the girls, come 
 to my assistance. 
 
 sort of general utility maid for 
 the place. She was short and 
 slightly lame, and one shoulder 
 was somewhat lower than the 
 other. Her face had a strangely- 
 combined expression of childhood 
 and womanhood upon it. She 
 had large, wandering blue eyes 
 that looked glad and sad by 
 turns ; and her hair hung down 
 her back, half-braided, half-loose, 
 after the fashion of the young 
 girls who live in the East-End. 
 She was an illustration of per- 
 petual motion. She rarely sat 
 down, and seldom stood still. 
 There was an indescribable some- 
 thing about her that made her 
 seem oddly at variance with her 
 surroundings. She looked as if 
 she should have painted pictures or made music for 
 the world, instead of living in and breathing an 
 atmosphere of soap-suds. 
 
 It was towards the end of the second day, when 
 I had been vainly endeavouring to embroider the 
 figure 6 on the corner of a serviette, that Janie came 
 over to the sorting corner and accosted me with — 
 " Hi'll 'elp you, Miss Barnes." 
 She took my thimble and needle, and her nimble 
 fingers soon worked out not only one 6 but a dozen 
 
 JANIE. 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 169 
 
 of them on a piece of calico she picked up from the 
 floor. She did not sit down, and her feet kept up a 
 rat-tat-tat on the boards while she gave me my 
 lesson. 
 
 When five o'clock came, and the girls were allowed 
 a half-hour for tea, Janie invited me over to the other 
 side of the room to share the large pot of tea that she 
 had made for herself and older sister, who was one of 
 the ironers, and at the rate of five farthings a shirt 
 was sometimes able to earn three-and-six a day — 
 more money than any other woman in the laundry 
 was capable of earning. She poured the tea from the 
 rusted pot into a thick cup minus a handle, and 
 ordered me to drink it quickly, so that she might 
 also have her tea, for there were only two cups for the 
 three persons. Never medicine was more difficult 
 to swallow than Janie's tea. It tasted stale, and 
 strong, and bitter, although quantities of queer- 
 looking brown sugar had been put into it ; but I 
 drank it down heroically. 
 
 During this half-hour the ironing-boards were 
 turned into tea-tables, and, as Mr. and Mrs. Morris 
 had gone into the house, which adjoined the laundry, 
 for their own tea, the workers had a few minutes for 
 social intercourse. A dark-skinned, demure-looking 
 girl sat on a box by the collar-machine, over which 
 she presided during working hours, and read the 
 Church Missionary Intelligencer and Church Mis- 
 sionary Gleaner, while she sipped her tea. Janie 
 whispered to me that it was Annie Martin, who was 
 very religious, and wanted to become a missionary, 
 but, on account of a defective education, was unable to 
 pass the examination that was required. 
 
170 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Janie's sister munched her bread-and-butter and 
 read a penny novel at the same time ; while Mrs. 
 Bruckerstone, one of the older women, entertained 
 the assemblage by giving a practical illustration of 
 the difference between " piece-work " and " day- 
 work." She showed how, in doing piece-work, where 
 the number of articles ironed governed the amount of 
 pay, the worker moved about briskly and eagerly. 
 Then, in illustration of day-work, she picked up an 
 apron, shook it out, smoothed it on the board, patted 
 it down, and took her time over ironing it. During 
 that half-hour I became acquainted with all the 
 women in the place, and was surprised to find that 
 they were not at all like the description I had always 
 heard of laundry-girls. I heard no profanity, no bad 
 language, and no quarrelling. With the exception of 
 a few older women, most of them were girls between 
 the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. However, Janie 
 
 told me that the girls employed in the Y and 
 
 Z Laundry were superior to those engaged in the 
 
 surrounding laundries. It seems they did scratch, and 
 fight, and swear in a laundry only a mile distant ; but 
 Mr. and Mrs. Morris made it a point to keep their 
 place rather "select" as regarded the characters of 
 their employees. 
 
 When Janie and I returned to the marking, she 
 regaled me with an account of all the accidents to 
 which girls working in steam laundries were liable, 
 and this in no way added to my peace of mind. It 
 appeared that boilers sometimes blew up, although 
 
 they had never done so in the Y and Z 
 
 Laundry ; leather belts flew off the wheels and hit 
 the bystander's eyes ; fingers were mashed, and 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 171 
 
 sometimes clipped off, in working at the mangle 
 and wringer. Only recently one of the girls had 
 been taken away to the hospital, where she had been 
 obliged to have three of her fingers amputated, 
 because they had slipped into the rubber rollers of 
 the wringer. But Janie declared this affair was all 
 due to carelessness, as the girl was looking about and 
 talking, instead of attending to her work. One of 
 Janie's fingers, I noticed, was flattened, but it had not 
 been done at the laundry. She had been chopping 
 wood, and hit it with an axe. 
 
 " Hi'm always in the wars, Miss Barnes," said she. 
 "When Hi were a baiby, Hi were dropped on the 
 paivement, and the bruise went hinside instead of 
 hout. That's what maikes me laime." 
 
 " How did you get the scar on your forehead ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Hi fell on the fender." 
 
 Poor little Janie ! she really had been through 
 the wars. If there was any trouble with the 
 girls or the customers, she was always sent to 
 make it right. If anything got lost, she must hunt 
 until she found it, though having nothing to do with 
 the losing of it. If delinquent customers refused to 
 pay their bills, Janie was sent to make the collections, 
 and usually returned with the money. A few days 
 before I went to the laundry, Janie had, in packing 
 the clean clothes, mixed the tablecloths of two 
 customers, who, it happened, were near neighbours 
 and deadly enemies. Janie, finding out her mistake, 
 went to rectify it, and one of the neighbours, think- 
 ing the exchange had been made purposely, took Janie 
 and shook her until she was at last obliged to drop 
 
172 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 the tablecover she had brought and run back to 
 the laundry for dear life. 
 
 " Don't you get tired, running about so much from 
 eight in the morning until eight at night ? " I asked 
 her one day, when she had just come in from collect- 
 ing long-overdue accounts. 
 
 " No ; Hi'm never tired. Hi like to work all the 
 time. Hi don't like Sundays, because Hi 'av' to be 
 quiet." 
 
 "Don't you like to read on Sunday?" I asked 
 her. 
 
 "Yes, sometimes. Hi always reads the People 
 and the Quiver ; but Hi'd rather work." 
 
 I was beginning to get intensely interested in this 
 strange species of laundry-girl, who, as she one day 
 told me, would be " haighteen years hold in Haugust," 
 and was earning " haight " shillings a week. At first 
 I was scarcely able to understand the Cockney 
 dialect over which she was complete mistress; 
 but by degrees I became accustomed to it, and 
 I was really in danger of getting to talk Cockney 
 myself. Several times I discovered her looking 
 curiously at me, and one day she asked me if I had 
 had much "schooling." I answered that I did not 
 know as much as I wished I did ; and she began to 
 consider how she might help me. 
 
 " When Hi first saw you, Miss Barnes," said she, 
 
 " Hi said to myself, ' She's a nice young ' " There 
 
 Janie stopped, and was lost in meditation. I had 
 half-expected she was going to speak of me as a 
 "young lady ; " but no. She appeared to be thinking 
 for a time as to what was the correct word, and then 
 she ended with " person " I However, I had become 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 173 
 
 used to being called a " young person " when I was 
 in service, so I took no offence at Janie's disinclination 
 to place me out of what might be my proper sphere. 
 
 On Thursday I was wondering what could have 
 become of the clothes I had sent to the laundry, when 
 Janie unpinned a parcel, and informed me that it had 
 been sent by a new customer, and all the pieces 
 needed marking. They were my own personal pro- 
 perty. 
 
 " There ought to be some other way of marking 
 clothes, especially the fine ones," I said, as I picked 
 up my best new handkerchief and proceeded to 
 number it. Janie insisted that red cotton could not 
 hurt anything, but I was of a different opinion. It 
 stood to reason that the coarse cotton must soon tear 
 holes in fine linen, but Janie declared that everything 
 must be marked, and she concluded that as it was 
 for a new customer, and she wanted it done nicely, 
 she had better do it herself. 
 
 The system of identifying the different articles at 
 the London laundries might certainly be improved. 
 In America the Chinamen have a way of attaching 
 labels by a single thread, which is cut after the 
 clothes have been ironed. This is certainly a much 
 better plan than the use of the disfiguring and ruinous 
 red cotton, although even this trouble might be 
 avoided if all clothes were stamped with the owner's 
 full name before being sent to the laundry. 
 
 I one day asked Janie why the place was called 
 a "sanitary laundry." From what I had seen of the 
 
 Y and Z Laundry, I could not discover that 
 
 it was intended to have any very sanitary effects upon 
 the girls that were employed there. Janie thought it 
 
174 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 was probably sanitary because it was worked by 
 steam, and no chemicals were used. Other laundries 
 used chloride of lime and carbolic acid to whiten the 
 
 clothes, but the Y and Z people avoided 
 
 everything but soda and soap. However, this ex- 
 planation was hardly satisfactory to me, especially as 
 every morning, and several times during the day, I 
 was obliged to walk through the water from ihc 
 boilers, and I was getting a sore throat in conse- 
 quence. It seemed to me there should have been 
 some outlet for the steam, which was sometimes 
 nearly suffocating, and must surely affect the health 
 of the girls, though when I complained of it they 
 assured me 1 would get used to it in time, and would 
 not notice it. The one room served not only for a 
 laundry, but a 'small portion of it was used for 
 stabling purposes for the two horses that hauled the 
 delivery waggons. Amid the din of the machinery 
 and the whizzing of the steam, the sound of their 
 pawing and neighing could be heard. When they 
 were taken to and from the waggon, they walked 
 directly through the laundry door, and indeed their 
 so-called stable was only partitioned off on one side, 
 and they were in plain sight all the time. The poor 
 animals must have suffered intensely from the steam 
 and heat of the place. And all this in a " sanitary 
 laundry " ! 
 
 I will admit that I did not hear any of the girls 
 complain of the inconveniences I have mentioned. 
 They probably saw nothing incongruous in a laundry 
 and stable combined in one ! But I am sure that, had 
 the poor beasts been able to talk, they would have 
 bad some objections to offer, 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 175 
 
 When Thursday afternoon came, I began to grow 
 tired of marking and sorting, and I begged Mrs. 
 Morris to let me show my skill in ironing. It was 
 difficult to convince her that I had any talents in 
 that direction. She thought I had better keep to the 
 sorting for several weeks before I attempted ironing. 
 "You must not expect to learn everything in a week. 
 It takes months to learn anything about the laundry 
 trade," she said to me, after I had requested a change 
 of occupation. I told my troubles to Janie, and she, 
 too, laughed at the idea of my leaving off sorting when 
 I had not worked three days. I think I must have 
 looked particularly downhearted at this, for Janie 
 suddenly changed her mind, and said — 
 
 "Never mind, Miss Barnes ; Hi'll hask Mis' Morris 
 about it in the morning." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A CONTEST WITH FLAT-IRONS. 
 ON Friday morning I was sent to the " preparing- 
 table" to sprinkle and fold; some servants' print 
 dresses. From a distance the work had looked easy 
 enough, but Agnes, the head preparer, who, by the 
 way, bore a striking resemblance to the pictures of 
 the Grand Duchess of Hesse, taught me that there 
 was a special method of distributing the water, and a 
 particular twist and turn to give the sleeves and 
 bodice, to say nothing of the compactness and firm- 
 ness with which they must be folded up. I was im- 
 pressed with the kind treatment I received from these 
 girls, who looked upon me as a beginner from their 
 
176 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 own ranks. Not one but tried to help me over the 
 hard places of my first week's experience, and, despite 
 the awkwardness that I must have displayed in every- 
 thing I attempted, they tried to encourage me, assur- 
 ing me that I would get used to things in time. 
 
 While Agnes was telling me how hard it had 
 been at first for her to learn the art of shirt-starching, 
 I noticed that an animated conversation was being 
 carried On in another part of the room between Mrs. 
 Morris and Janie. Then Mrs. Morris came over to 
 me, and said she had decided to let me iron a little, 
 and perhaps I would succeed better with it than I had 
 done with marking. 
 
 So an extra table was brought into the laundry 
 and fitted up with ironing tools, and, as Mrs. Morris 
 handed me a bag of handkerchiefs, she said — 
 
 "Now, mind you don't pay attention to Mrs. 
 Bruckerstone, that stout woman that's beside you. 
 She's the biggest gossip in the place, and will ask you 
 no end of questions about yourself, and tell you all 
 she knows about the other girls." 
 
 Then I was seized with an inclination to cultivate 
 Mrs. Bruckerstone's acquaintance. 
 
 Mrs. Morris led me to the stove, took up an iron 
 and held it with one hand close to her face. 
 
 "That's the way to tell if it's hot enough," she 
 explained. 
 
 " But suppose the iron should slip and hit me in 
 the face ? " I asked, horrified already at the dangers 
 that loomed in my path. 
 
 " You must take your chances about that. How 
 else would you know the iron was right?" she 
 answered. 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. lyy 
 
 " Why, try it with my fingers, like this. I always 
 did it so at home ; " and then I illustrated the way I 
 had managed with the family ironing in Australia. 
 
 " Well, that's not right ; but you can do it that 
 way, if you like," was her reply, as she went back to 
 her own table, where she was always surrounded with 
 books and bills. 
 
 I thought then that Mrs. Morris had concluded 
 that a girl so afraid of burning her face would hardly 
 do for laundry work, and I had not a doubt but she 
 would tell me so later on ; but I went to the table 
 assigned me, and commenced on the handkerchiefs 
 without any regrets. When I had finished my first 
 piece, I thought it time to open conversation with 
 Mrs. Bruckerstone, who stood near me, ironing 
 children's frocks. 
 
 " I think you iron beautifully," I remarked, as she 
 returned from the clothes-horse, where she had hung 
 an embroidered baby-dress, which really did her 
 great credit. I could see that I had put myself 
 in Mrs. Bruckerstone's good graces at once, as she 
 replied — 
 
 " When ye've been at it long as me, Hi 'ope 
 ye'll hiron as well. Hi've been in the business twenty 
 years." 
 
 I observed that, if I ever learned to iron half as 
 well as she did, I'd be content, and then we were 
 friends. 
 
 I had supposed I knew how to iron handkerchiefs, 
 but Mrs. Bruckerstone said I needed some instruc- 
 tions, and, though I did very well for a beginner, my 
 method was not quite correct. They must be ironed 
 from hem to hem, and folded together with the red 
 M 
 
178 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 cotton mark on the outside, so that the packer would 
 know to whom they belonged. 
 
 " Where ye from ? " she asked. 
 
 " Near Oxford Circus." 
 
 " That's a long waiys off. Must cost ye a pretty 
 penny for trine fare. Ye ought to find lodgings 
 hereabouts." 
 
 " Yes, I'm thinking of doing that if I get on all 
 right. I'm only here on trial now." 
 
 " Going to be a shirt-hironer or finery-hironer?" 
 
 " I want to learn the whole business." 
 
 "Then, Hi suppose, yer idee is to be a mana- 
 gress," said Mrs. Bruckerstone, with the accent on the 
 last syllable. 
 
 At that time Mrs. Morris was not in hearing, and 
 all the girls began to tell how they expected to spend 
 the coming Bank Holiday, which was Whit Monday. 
 When several had declared their intentions of going 
 to fairs and " theayters," Mrs. Bruckerstone turned to 
 me, and asked how I should celebrate the day. I 
 replied that I thought I should go to Hyde Park. 
 
 " Got a young man ? " was her next question. 
 
 " Oh, yes," I answered. 
 
 " What do he do for a living ? " 
 
 I was about to say I did not know, when I thought 
 it would hardly do to have a young man and confess 
 to ignorance of his occupation, so I said — 
 
 " He's a soldier." 
 
 "That's nice," said Mrs. Bruckerstone, approv- 
 ingly. " Agnes's young man's a soldier, too. What's 
 the naime of yours ? " 
 
 I was getting into deep waters, and I began to floun- 
 der, but I wanted to hold on a little longer, so I said- — 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 179 
 
 " His name is Jones." 
 
 I thought that would be a perfectly harmless name, 
 but it transpired it was the very one I should have 
 avoided, for my co-worker said — 
 
 " Why's that's the naime of Agnes's young man. 
 Hi wonder ft* they could be the saime ! What's his 
 first naime ? " 
 
 The waters were getting deeper and deeper. I 
 dared not invent a first name, lest I should chance to 
 hit upon the one that belonged to Agnes's young 
 man. I pictured to myself how, in such an event, 
 that young woman might be transformed from my 
 interested friend into a bitter foe. Then the thought 
 of Australia again saved me. 
 
 " They couldn't be the same," I said to Mrs. 
 Bruckerstone ; " my Mr. Jones is a soldier in Aus- 
 tralia, and I haven't seen him for a year. I didn't say 
 I was going to the park with him." 
 
 That set matters right, and I was thankful to have 
 escaped so easily. 
 
 "Ye won't make much money at the rate yer 
 hironing," remarked my companion, when, after 
 having stood at the table three hours, I counted 
 my handkerchiefs, and found I had ironed just thirty- 
 four. 1 was so tired, I could hardly stand. I had 
 several times burned my fingers, and once nearly 
 fallen against the stove. Handkerchiefs were paid 
 for at the rate of a penny a dozen, so, had I been 
 a paid worker, I would have earned less than a penny 
 an hour. 
 
 The bag of handkerchiefs was empty, and I felt 
 I must rest from my labours. It wanted fifteen i 
 minutes till dinner-time, and I wondered how I 
 M 2 
 
"LIZZIE BARNES," LAUNDRY-GIRL. 
 
 {From a photograph by the London Stereoscopic Company,) 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 181 
 
 should ever walk to the queer little restaurant where 
 I bought my midday meal. 
 
 " Suppose ye hiron this pinafore for me," said 
 Mrs. Bruckerstone, taking from a hamper a much- 
 embroidered garment, and laying it on my table. 
 " Hiron the needlework on the wrong side, and don't 
 crease it in the middle." 
 
 " I'll do it after dinner. I'm so tired, I must rest," 
 I protested ; but, looking up, I saw Mrs. Morris's 
 eyes upon me, and, in order to avoid further conversa- 
 tion with the woman, I concluded I had better do the 
 pinafore. 
 
 When at the end of twenty minutes I passed it to 
 my teacher for inspection, she seemed surprised that 
 I had done it so well, and announced her conviction 
 that I would make a " finery-hironer," though I was 
 rather slow. 
 
 " Ye can 'elp me again this afternoon," she said, 
 as she pinned on her bonnet preparatory to going 
 home for dinner. 
 
 All that afternoon I regretted having shown so 
 much skill in the way of pinafore-ironing, for Mrs. 
 Morris told me I might go on and help Mrs. Brucker- 
 stone, only not to talk with her. 
 
 After the dinner-hour, another pinafore was 
 handed to me. My burnt fingers were smarting, 
 and my feet were aching from walking to and from 
 the stove. It took me an hour to finish that piece of 
 work, and Mrs. Bruckerstone said it was not done so 
 well as the first. Still, she was not discouraged. 
 Two more pinafores were given me, and had it not 
 been for the fact that I knew she was paid by the 
 day, and not by the piece, I would have suspected 
 
1&2 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 she was trying to make money out of me. Finery- 
 ironing was paid for at the rate of three shillings a 
 day. It was done as day work for the reason that 
 some articles were more elaborate than others, and so 
 no average time for doing them up could be calcu- 
 lated upon. In such cases, to pay a stipulated sum 
 for each piece would have been unfair to both 
 employer and employee. Shirt-ironers, I had been 
 told, often added to their own earnings by the work 
 turned out by learners, who, desirous of becoming 
 proficient in the art of polishing, often " gave time " 
 to the extent of several weeks, and sometimes two or 
 three months. What presentable work they did was 
 counted with that of their instructor, who in this way 
 often made a shilling a day extra money. For this 
 reason " piece-workers " were always ready to take 
 pupils. 
 
 But I knew Mrs. Bruckerstone could have no 
 such deeply-laid scheme in regard to myself, and I 
 had no doubt that she gave me pinafores to iron 
 because of a genuine desire to help me, although I 
 did not fully appreciate her interest in me. When, 
 at four o'clock, I was still struggling over the third 
 piece, having in the meantime several times sat down 
 on an upturned hamper in order to rest, she began to 
 lose her patience, which heretofore had indeed been 
 Joblike both in quantity and quality. 
 
 " Hi see yer not strong enough for a finery- 
 hironer," said she, as for the fifth or sixth time I 
 returned to my position on the hamper. " Hare ye 
 good at Aggers ? " 
 
 I confessed to ignorance of mathematics, and poor 
 Mrs. Bruckerstone looked disheartened, as she replied ; 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 183 
 
 " Hi were going to saiy ye might better work at 
 books in a shop or factory." 
 
 Then pointing to some nurses' sleeves which one 
 of the women was ironing, she continued — 
 
 " That's the kind of place ye want. Be a 'ospital 
 nurse. Ye looks fit for that, kinder quiet and 
 genteel." 
 
 " Hospital patients are too cross and fidgety. I 
 wouldn't like to be a nurse." 
 
 Then she grew angry, and declared it was not 
 what I liked, but what I must do. I was a failure at 
 laundry work, and, if I hadn't " schooling " enough to 
 figure, nothing was left for me but the hospital. 
 
 At that I stopped resting, and changed my iron 
 preparatory to going on with the pinafore. At tea- 
 time it was finished, and Mrs. Bruckerstone exhibited 
 her lively interest in my welfare by informing the 
 girls that I had been two hours ironing an apron, work- 
 ing five minutes and resting ten throughout the per- 
 formance; in the face of which she asked their opinion 
 as to whether or not I was likely to succeed in the 
 profession I had chosen. They all agreed that 
 laundry work was not my forte, and they put their 
 heads together to think of some other calling which 
 lay more in the line of my peculiar abilities for 
 resting. 
 
 One girl suggested that I go into a coffee-house, 
 when Janie's sister interposed that such a situation 
 would be too rough. Someone else asked me how I 
 would like to be a barmaid ; but, when Mrs. Brucker- 
 stone gave the information that barmaids had often 
 to keep books as well as pour out drinks, that idea 
 was given up. Dressmaking was spoken of, but 
 
1 84 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Miss Stebbins, who had seen some of my early efforts 
 at marking, and did not know of my lately-attained 
 skill through Janie's instructions, expressed it as her 
 opinion that I was not likely to succeed in any 
 department of needlework. Attendance in a baker's 
 shop next came up for discussion, and then Janie, 
 who all this time had been keeping up a quiet 
 thinking, announced that she thought a place in a 
 nice confectioner's in the West-End would be just 
 the thing for me. All the girls coincided with her in 
 this, and so they settled it among themselves that I 
 was to dispense cream chocolates and peppermint 
 drops from behind a counter. 
 
 So great had been the anxiety exhibited in regard 
 to my future, and so earnest did the girls seem in 
 advising me how to gain a livelihood, that, before tea- 
 time was over, even I had become terrified at the 
 outlook, and had worked myself up into the " alone- 
 in-London " state of feeling. For the moment I had 
 a vague apprehension of impending misfortunes, but 
 Mr. Morris's shrill call of " Half-past five ! " which 
 sent every girl to her w T ork, brought me back to my 
 senses, and, telling the girls that I thought I would 
 try the confectioner's shop, I accompanied Mrs. 
 Bruckerstone to the ironing-table, and proceeded to 
 iron the fourth and last garment. Then Mrs. Morris 
 sent Janie with some towels and stockings, with the 
 message that, when I had ironed them, I might come 
 to her, as she had other work that she wished me 
 to do. 
 
 Towels and stockings completed, I was again 
 almost overcome with " that tired feeling," and I went 
 to Mrs. Morris with the hope that there might be no 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 185 
 
 incompatibility between a chair and the work she 
 had picked out for me. 
 
 She and Janie were examining a large counterpane 
 which had been torn in the wash by too energetic 
 boiling. " Suppose we red cotton hit, Mis' Morris ? " 
 said Janie ; " that will maike them think hit was done 
 before hit caime here." By that time I had learned 
 that to "red cotton" anything meant to put a few 
 large stitches in an article that had been torn before 
 its arrival at the laundry, and I thought Janie's idea 
 of disposing of the torn counterpane a very brilliant 
 one. 
 
 " Here, Miss Barnes, you can sit down and darn 
 up all these holes," said Mrs. Morris, handing the 
 counterpane to me. Wishing I were back at the 
 ironing-board, I took the quilt and sat down to 
 needlework and despair. At first, like the bad work- 
 woman that I was, I complained of my tools. The 
 cotton was too coarse for the needle, and the thimble 
 loaned me was far too large. I declared I could not 
 sew under such conditions, and when Janie, out of 
 the kindness of her heart, removed them, by lending 
 me a large needle and a small thimble, my troubles 
 were only increased. When done, the last state of 
 the counterpane was no improvement on the first ; 
 and when I handed it to Janie she looked first at my 
 handiwork, then at me, and, with a pitifully resigned 
 expression on her face, said — 
 
 "You'll 'ave to taike it hout, Miss Barnes, and 
 Hi'll do it when Mis' Morris goes into the 'ouse." 
 
 It was then that my affection for Janie reached 
 its highest point, and I determined that her kindness 
 to me should not go unrewarded. 
 
1 86 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 " How long did you go to school, Janie ? " I asked. 
 
 " Hi went through the seventh standard, Miss 
 Barnes ; then Hi 'ad to work. How far did you go in 
 books ? " 
 
 "Oh, a little farther than that," I answered 
 evasively. 
 
 " Hit's too bad you can't teach in a Board School, 
 Miss Barnes. Do you think you'll get a plaice at a 
 confectioner's ? You might do that work, but som'ow 
 I can't 'elp worrying. Hit seems so 'ard for you to 
 learn things ! " 
 
 Janie went on with her packing with a far-away 
 look in her eyes, as though she were trying to think 
 up some way by which I might be made capable of 
 earning a livelihood. I also fell into a reverie con- 
 cerning Janie. Unlike myself, it did not seem hard 
 for her to " learn things," and I pictured her nervous 
 little fingers flying over the keys of the typewriter, 
 while I dictated to her the results of my future 
 journalistic investigations. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DAY OF MY RESIGNATION. 
 
 SATURDAY morning was the busiest time of all the 
 week. The ironing was to be finished, and the 
 clothes folded, packed in hampers, and delivered. It 
 was a day of little rest for the horses, but they 
 probably enjoyed the pulling and hauling in the 
 fresh air much better than breathing the steam-laden 
 atmosphere of their so-called " stable." 
 
 The skill displayed by Miss Stebbins and Janie in 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls, 187 
 
 .elling at a moment's inquiry just which numbers 
 were meant for each of the customers was a source of 
 
 wonder to me. The Y and Z Laundry had 
 
 a good " trade," not only in the various parts of 
 London, but in several of the surrounding suburbs. 
 Between four and five hundred regular customers 
 were enrolled on the books, so that the numbers 
 which marked the clothes ranged all the way from 
 one upwards. To be able to know five hundred 
 people by number as well as by name seemed as 
 marvellous a matter to me as the much-discussed 
 dexterity of the head waiters in Chicago hotels, who 
 can hand out the hat that belongs to each of two or 
 three hundred men, and never make a mistake, though 
 the hats are all alike. 
 
 When one of the loads was nearly ready for de- 
 livery, I heard rather an interesting discussion between 
 Mrs. Morris and John, the driver. I learned that the 
 securing of credit with his laundryman depended 
 much upon the neighbourhood in which a man lived, 
 the number of servants he kept, and, above all, the 
 quantity and the quality of the shirts he sent to the 
 wash. The customer who soiled fourteen shirts in a 
 week was trusted implicitly, while he who sent only 
 seven or less, with the brand of a less fashionable 
 furnishing house upon them, was not given so long a 
 time. Then there was the customer who wore coloured 
 shirts during the week and white ones on Sundays 
 and Bank Holidays, who must needs pay for his goods 
 on delivery. Some of the accounts were allowed to 
 run from three months to a year, others were required 
 to be settled monthly, and with still others the rule 
 was " pay down." 
 
1 88 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 " Shall I leave this 'amper, ma'am, if they doesn't 
 pay ? " asked John of Mrs. Morris, as he shouldered a 
 large basket and started for the waggon. 
 
 " Well, it's a new customer," said Mrs. Morris ; 
 " but they live in a good street, and all the clothes 
 are of the finest quality. Yes, just leave them, and 
 ask if they want a laundry-book." 
 
 " But they rents their 'ouse furnished, ma'am ; the 
 'ousemaid told me so," persisted John. 
 
 " Oh, that's different ! Better collect the money, 
 then. There's no knowing how long they'll stop 
 there ! " answered Mrs. Morris. 
 
 It seemed that the people who rented furnished 
 
 houses were allowed no quarter at the Y and 
 
 Z Laundry. 
 
 I also discovered that the keepers of laundries 
 knew quite as much about the private affairs of their 
 customers as do the butcher and baker and other 
 tradespeople. John had many a tale to tell of certain 
 strange things that housemaid, cook, and butler 
 related to him concerning the home-life of master 
 and mistress. The kitchen-door confidences that 
 passed between him and the servants, when he made 
 his weekly "rounds," sometimes made entertaining 
 gossip for the laundry-girls. When I heard some of 
 this interesting talk, it occurred to me that it might 
 be as well if all areas were fitted up with some sort 
 of patent lifts, by which transactions with tradesmen 
 could be carried on at a distance. It would certainly 
 save much time, and family affairs might then be 
 kept more closely at home. 
 
 But, so far as Mrs. Morris was concerned, the only 
 personal interest she took in her customers was in 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 189 
 
 regard to the question of their ability to pay their 
 accounts. She was one of the most clever and inde- 
 fatigable business women I had ever seen. No one 
 in the laundry worked as hard or as many hours in 
 the day as herself. She inspected every department, 
 and there was not a branch of the business with 
 which she was not familiar. She had piercing black 
 eyes, that showed her capabilities in the way of 
 bargain-getting, and her nose was of the kind that 
 physiognomists say denotes acquisitiveness. She was 
 short and wiry, and, though under thirty years of age, 
 she was more round-shouldered than many women of 
 sixty. However, in this respect she resembled her 
 employees, for there was not a straight- backed girl 
 among them, and in some instances their shoulders 
 were so bent that it amounted almost to a deformity. 
 A few of the women were positively humped, and 
 they made an uncanny sight as they stood over the 
 ironing-boards. I spoke of it one day to Janie, and 
 she replied, " Yes, Miss Barnes, all laundry-girls gets 
 that waiy ; " and I have since observed that stooping 
 shoulders are a peculiarity among them. 
 
 Mr. Morris, with the assistance of a small boy, 
 attended to the management of the engine and the 
 machinery, while his wife overlooked everything else. 
 She was even able to take his place if he was absent 
 for a day. Both, though of somewhat better educa- 
 tion than those who served them, had evidently 
 sprung from the ranks of the lower classes, and their 
 ambition to get on in the world was boundless. 
 Believing in the proverb, " If you want anything done, 
 do it yourself," they worked early and late, scarcely 
 taking time to eat. Every morning, at seven o'clock, 
 
190 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Mrs. Morris was in the laundry to see that all was in 
 readiness for the girls to commence at eight. She 
 breakfasted at half-past seven, and fifteen minutes 
 later she was again at her post, where she re- 
 mained until dinner-time. She ate dinner in twenty 
 minutes, and was back before any of the girls had 
 returned. At night, when the laundry was closed, 
 she took her books to the house, and it was some- 
 times as late as one or two o'clock in the morning 
 when she had them settled. On one occasion, during 
 the week I was there, she told me she had run thirty 
 pairs of curtains through the ironing-machine after 
 ten o'clock at night. She was not in any way 
 unkind or unjust with the women she employed, 
 rather putting herself on an equality with them, and 
 demanding no work from them that she was not able 
 and willing to perform herself. If any heavy lift- 
 ing was to be done, she was always foremost in the 
 fray. 
 
 On Saturday, I noticed that she examined every 
 piece of clothes before it was returned to the cus- 
 tomers, and, if any article was badly gotten up, it was 
 washed and ironed over again, even though she was 
 obliged to do it herself. She was scrupulously con- 
 scientious as to the manner in which the most 
 unimportant part of the work was performed, and 
 she would not, under any consideration, allow in- 
 jurious chemicals to be used in the washing, no 
 matter how much they might lighten the labour or 
 lessen time. She carefully measured the amount of 
 soda that was put into the washers, and the soap 
 used was of the best quality. Any articles from 
 which the colour had been taken out in the washing 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 191 
 
 or boiling were laid aside for her special attention, 
 and she restored lost blues, pinks, and other colours 
 by dipping them into a solution of acetic acid. If, 
 through careless handling in the laundry, spots of 
 iron-rust got on the linen, she immediately applied 
 salts of lemon to remove them. When goods already 
 iron- rusted were brought to her, she charged a penny 
 for each treatment. 
 
 However, there was one thing she allowed that 
 rather surprised me : that was the stringing of several 
 collars and cuffs together before putting them in the 
 washer. It was a good plan for keeping each person's 
 collars separated from the others, but it had a ten- 
 dency to tear out the button-holes. 
 
 The girls at the Y and Z Laundry, 
 
 unlike those employed in most places, were allowed 
 to have their own work done at a slightly cheaper 
 rate than that of the ordinary customers. Saturday 
 afternoon I watched Janie hand to the women the 
 small parcels containing their own personal property, 
 and I wondered how girls earning from three to 
 twenty shillings a week could be willing to pay out 
 four or five pence for the doing up of a white skirt or 
 ruffled blouse. Some of their bills amounted to over 
 a shilling. 
 
 Mrs. Bruckerstone had taken to the laundry, 
 early in the week, a baby's bonnet, which was sup- 
 posed to belong to someone in her family, so that the 
 usual reduction was made in the price of it. Over 
 the ironing of that bonnet there had been a near 
 approach to a fight. The bonnet, with several others, 
 was given to one of the women to iron, and when it 
 was finished and hung on the horse the appearance 
 
192 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 did not please Mrs. Bruckerstone, so she got out her 
 own bonnet-board and re-ironed it, saying it belonged 
 to a neighbour of hers, and therefore must be done 
 up extra well. The woman who had at first ironed 
 it took the insult so much to heart that she turned 
 informer, and reported to Mrs. Morris that Mrs. 
 Bruckerstone had given out that she was the only 
 proper "bunnit-hironer" in the place, and that, more- 
 over, Mrs. Bruckerstone had been attempting to get 
 reduced rates for her neighbours by passing off their 
 goods as her own. 
 
 Then Mrs. Morris announced that all neighbours 
 must be charged full price, and Mrs. Bruckerstone's 
 face wore a crestfallen look, when, as she was paying : 
 her bill, an additional penny was charged for the 
 unlucky bonnet. 
 
 At a little after two o'clock there was a lull in the 
 motions of the machinery, which showed that no 
 more washing would be done that week. Each ironer 
 continued to work until her particular lot of things 
 was finished, and at about half-past three, all the girls 
 were paid off for the week. The lowest wages were 
 those earned by the smaller girls of about fifteen 
 or sixteen years of age, who attended to the smooth- 
 ing of towels and table-linen by putting them in and 
 pulling them out of the large ironing-machine. Their 
 portion was from three to six shillings a week. 
 Agnes, the preparer, received eleven shillings ; Annie 
 Martin, who stood at the collar-machine, was paid 
 fourteen shillings ; Mrs. Bruckerstone had three 
 shillings a day for the time she had worked, which 
 amounted to about five days ; Janie's sister and her 
 companions in shirt-ironing drew from fifteen to 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 193 
 
 twenty-three shillings, according to their talents ; the 
 girl who presided over the washtub received twelve 
 shillings, and Miss Stebbins had fifteen shillings. 
 Miss Stebbins was the only girl among them who 
 did not live " home." She resided in apartments near 
 the laundry, and for board and lodging paid out ten 
 of the fifteen shillings. Saturday nights she went to 
 the country to stop until Monday, the train fare cost- 
 ing her another shilling, so she had four shillings left 
 over for clothes and extras. When paid off, all the 
 women, except Janie and Miss Stebbins, left the 
 laundry to remain away until the following Tuesday, 
 and as they went out of the door they were talking 
 of various plans for Bank Holiday. 
 
 The regular hours were from eight until eight, 
 with twenty minutes for eleven-o'clock luncheon, an 
 hour for dinner, and half an hour for tea. I had 
 several times heard the girls discussing the proposed 
 amendment to % the Factory Act ; but among them the 
 idea seemed to prevail that the new law was to be an 
 eight-hour law, which would reduce their hours of 
 labour from eight in the morning until six at night. 
 Those women who received their wages by the day 
 or the week were in favour of having the hours 
 reduced, while those who did piecework preferred to 
 put in their time as they wished. This feeling was, 
 of course, quite natural, for the ironers did not usually 
 commence work until late Monday afternoon, and 
 finished the week at a little after two on Saturday, 
 thus making only five full days in the week. How- 
 ever, the regular hours at the Y and Z 
 
 Laundry were about what the Factory Act demands, 
 so that Mrs. Morris knew she had no cause to trouble 
 N 
 
194 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 herself about that phase of the matter. Quite often 
 many of the girls were obliged to work overtime 
 until nine or ten at night, but I was told that in such 
 cases the overtime was not paid for — most of the 
 employees receiving a weekly wage, and it was ex- 
 pected that they would remain in the place until the 
 work required of them was finished. So far as I 
 could discover, few of them had any complaints to 
 make in regard to the hours. Some of them had been 
 employed in laundries where the hours were much 
 longer, Annie Martin having recently left a situation 
 where the regular hours were from eight in the morn- 
 ing until eleven at night. 
 
 Janie and Miss Stebbins were the two most often 
 called upon to stop late, and were always the last to 
 leave. While the other girls had a part, if not all, of 
 the Saturday half-holiday, they were expected to 
 stop with Mrs. Morris until the last parcel of goods 
 was placed in the delivery waggon. On the Satur- 
 day preceding Bank Holiday it was after seven 
 o'clock when the two girls quitted their posts, but 
 both of them attended to their duties cheerfully, and 
 took it all as a matter of course Janie, according 
 to her own statement, was not tired, only a little 
 " muddled," and she regretted that such a thing as a 
 Bank Holiday should exist, preferring rather to go to 
 her work the next Monday as usual. 
 
 On the whole, the girls were a fairly contented 
 set, although the inconveniences under which they 
 did their work was a trial to those who had held 
 situations in more comfortably arranged places. 
 Nearly all of them objected to the cement floor, 
 which, they said, made their feet ache. It certainly 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 195 
 
 would have entailed but little expense on the part of 
 the proprietor to have had at least a portion of the 
 room boarded over ; and the ironers, who were con- 
 stantly obliged to walk to and from the stove, would 
 have greatly appreciated a wooden floor. Some of 
 the machinery, too, needed fencing in to make it less 
 dangerous to those who were continually passing so 
 very close to it as to make it highly probable that 
 their skirts would be caught when the wheels were in 
 motion. During my first two days I several times 
 very narrowly escaped coming in collision with the 
 hydro-extractor. There should also have been an 
 arrangement for carrying off the steam, the odour 
 from which was most sickening, and the need of an 
 air-propeller, or fanning-machine, was very apparent. 
 The constantly wet floor was another thing that must 
 have been prejudicial to the health of those in the place. 
 
 Indeed, taken as a whole, the sanitary conditions 
 of the laundry could hardly have been worse ; and, if 
 the proposed amendment is passed, some of its re- 
 strictive clauses will readily apply to the state of things 
 
 at the Y and Z Laundry. It is no excuse fur 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Morris to say that they have only lately 
 gone into business, and cannot be expected to have 
 all the comforts and conveniences of long-established 
 laundries. Decency, as well as the laws of health, 
 would demand that a few pounds be expended in 
 fitting up the place to make it properly habitable 
 for themselves, their workpeople, and their horses. 
 The one large room in which the work is now done 
 should be divided into at least three apartments 
 wash-house, sorting-room, and ironing-room. 
 
 When I engaged at the laundry, I had expected 
 N 2 
 
196 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 to spend between eight and ten days there ; but Satur- 
 day brought me such a weariness of the flesh that I de- 
 cided I had better resign my situation before Mrs. 
 Morris should have time to inform me that she did not 
 consider me up to the mark for a laundry- worker. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm not strong enough for this sort of 
 thing, Mrs. Morris," I said, as, standing with Janie in 
 the doorway, I bade her good-night. 
 
 " I was going to speak of that myself," she replied. 
 " Somehow, you don't seem to have very much energy, 
 and I would advise you to go into an easier kind of 
 business." 
 
 Energy! If she had only known the large 
 amount of that article it had required to keep me 
 in her laundry for five days, I am sure she would 
 have changed her mind. 
 
 " Miss Barnes is going to a confectioner's, Mis' 
 Morris," said Janie, in a sort of defensive way, as 
 though she thought I needed a champion. 
 
 So my brief and very chequered career as a 
 laundry-girl ended ; but, not having yet gained as 
 much knowledge of the work and the workers as I 
 wished, I determined to spend the following week 
 among the laundry-girls in different parts of London, 
 to discover if, after all, they were such a formidable 
 and badly-treated class of individuals. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "SOAP-SUDS ISLAND" AND THE EAST-END. 
 
 ACTON is a village of tubs and clothes-lines. So 
 many of its inhabitants are engaged in laundry-work, 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls, 197 
 
 in a large and small way, that the place has been 
 given the name of " Soap-suds Island." 
 
 On Tuesday afternoon I went to Acton to make the 
 acquaintance of the girls, whom I had heard from many 
 quarters were typical representatives of their class. 
 
 I waited for some time outside the gates of one of 
 the large laundries, where many young girls were 
 employed. At a little after seven o'clock the gates 
 were swung back, and I found myself in a crowd of 
 some forty or fifty women of all sizes and ages. I 
 opened conversation by asking one of them the way 
 to the station, and then I explained that I had come 
 out to visit the laundry and wanted to interview them 
 in regard to their opinion of the application of the 
 Factory Act to laundries. They became interested 
 at once, and, though some of them were woefully 
 ignorant as to just what the Factory Act was, they 
 one and all declared themselves in favour of shorter 
 hours. I learned that at some of the laundries the 
 girls commenced at six o'clock in the morning and 
 worked until between seven and nine at night, ac- 
 cording to whether or not it was a busy part of the 
 season. At half-past seven they were allowed a half- 
 hour for breakfast, which most of them carried with 
 them. 
 
 A little later I was invited to visit the Working 
 Girls' Club, an organisation of laundry-girls started 
 a few years ago by a number of ladies who be- 
 came interested in helping them. There I intro- 
 duced myself properly, told the girls how I had spent 
 a week in a laundry, and that, wanting to know 
 more about those engaged in the work, had come out 
 to Acton. The fact that I had done laundry-work, 
 
198 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 no matter for what purpose, put me in their good 
 graces at once, and they treated me as one of them- 
 selves, inviting me to become a member of the club 
 by the payment of fourpence a month, the fee re- 
 quired of each member. The little room in which 
 they met had been very comfortably fitted up. One 
 corner at the back served for a sort of pantry, where 
 tea was made on a small paraffin stove, and served to 
 the girls by two young ladies who had been appointed 
 to be their entertainers for the evening. 
 
 I was told that it was not until some time after 
 the club was started that the girls could be induced 
 to say " Miss " and " Mrs." in addressing the officers, 
 among whom were some of the best-known ladies in 
 Acton. At the time of my visit, however, they had 
 become accustomed to showing a certain amount of 
 respect to their superiors. 
 
 " Hi there, miss, I've fetched a copper and wants 
 caike and tea," called out one girl to a quiet young lady 
 who was boiling the kettle in the back of the room. 
 
 " Very well, Lucy," she answered smilingly, with- 
 out a sign of annoyance, and then a cup of tea and 
 box of cake were brought to the table, where about 
 twenty girls were gathered for what they termed 
 " a bite." It was an interesting thirtg to me to 
 watch this young lady taking the part of a servant 
 and administering to the wants of the laundry-girls, 
 who, despite the amusing familiarity of that " Hi there, 
 miss," tried to the best of their ability to show proper 
 respect by saying, " Thank ee, miss," when their orders 
 were carried out. I joined them in their late tea, 
 paying the stipulated price, a halfpenny for cake and 
 the same for a cup of tea, including milk and sugar. 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 199 
 
 The girls poured their tea into their saucers, and 
 setting the cups on the table, made ugly rings on 
 the red cover. 
 
 11 See, you soil the table-cloth, putting the cups on 
 it like that," I suggested to the girl who sat next me, 
 drinking her tea from a saucer, while she held the 
 dripping spoon in front of her. 
 
 " Yes, miss, I sees it," she answered, and then 
 turning to her companions, called out, " It's a shaime, 
 girls. The laidy says we's spiling the cloth with the 
 tea-cups. We must hold 'em in the other 'and when 
 we drinks out the saucer." 
 
 I noticed that most of them were very young, 
 probably under eighteen. Their costumes were of 
 the coster order, but many, if properly dressed, would 
 have been good-looking young women. 
 
 After tea, the lady who had served it was requested 
 to " maike some tunes on the pianer," which she did 
 with a right good will. Then the place was turned 
 into a ball-room, and as each girl chose a partner, 
 I was invited to " taike a turn." With first one and 
 then another of the girls I joined them in their 
 schottische to the tune of " Knocked 'em in the Old 
 Kent Road," many of the girls singing as well as 
 dancing. Then followed a polka to " Ta-ra-ra-boom- 
 de-ay," and the programme ended with waltzing 
 " After the ball was over," for which dance I had 
 offered me a choice of a dozen partners. 
 
 It was then nearly half-past nine, and, as one of 
 the girls declared " the young laidy couldn't go to the 
 staition alone," I left the club-room with an escort of 
 five girls, who showed the liveliest interest in taking 
 proper care of me. All the way to the station they 
 
2oo Campaigns of Curiosi'i v. 
 
 kept up a continual talking on various subjects. 
 They told me that a few of the girls at one of the 
 laundries had lately joined the Salvation Army, and 
 that there had been a " grait chainge " in them. 
 Then they discussed the " Factory Hact," and begged 
 me to use my influence in their behalf. They were 
 not in favour of the hours that obliged them to be up 
 before a little after five every morning and hurry off 
 
 "•carn't yer see we've got a young laidy with us?"* 
 
 to work at six without even so much as a cup of tea 
 or coffee to stay them until the breakfast-hour. 
 
 Once, when we had nearly reached the station, a 
 crowd of boys in front of a public-house began throw- 
 ing pebbles. One of my protectors threw back a 
 missile with the injunction — 
 
 " Better behaive there ! Carn't yer see we've got a 
 young laidy with us?" and I could not help thinking 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 201 
 
 what a pity they could not have a " young laidy " 
 with them oftener. Who could foresee the results that 
 such a state of things might bring about ! 
 
 As my train moved out from the station, the girls 
 ran along the platform as far as they could, giving me 
 numerous farewell messages, and the last I heard from 
 them was — 
 
 " Saiy, miss, don't forget to maike 'em give us 
 that Hact you told about." 
 
 Having an invitation to visit their club on Sunday 
 that I might inspect them in what they called their 
 " church togs," I made them another call on that day, 
 and found every girl arrayed in her Sunday best 
 Cotton velvet was in great requisition, blue the 
 favourite colour, and long plumed hats the ruling 
 things in headgear. In the jewellery line heavy silver 
 chains and lockets and threepenny-bit ear-rings were 
 greatly in demand. Sunday afternoons they were 
 allowed their tea without payment, the cost being 
 covered by the subscription fee of fourpence a month. 
 When I arrived, most of them had just returned from 
 church, and had sundry original remarks to make 
 about the service and the people in attendance. 
 
 So I had mixed with the Acton girls, and suf- 
 fered no bodily injury or moral contamination in 
 consequence ! I did not go with the expectation 
 of finding a great degree of refinement among them, 
 and I was in no way disappointed. It is true that I 
 may have met only the best of them, and I have no 
 doubt that, had I remained long among them, some 
 unpleasant knowledge would have been brought to 
 me ; but, on the whole, considering the circumstances 
 of their bringing up and their early surroundings, I 
 
202 Campaigns of Curiosity, 
 
 could not see that they were deserving of the oppro- 
 brium that I had heard cast upon them. 
 
 Some time afterwards, accompanied by a young 
 woman, who was herself a laundress, and had been 
 appointed to make a report of the opinions of laun- 
 dry employers and workers in regard to the Factory 
 Act, I made a trip among the smaller establishments 
 of the East-End. A few of the employers had not 
 heard of the proposed amendment, and did not under- 
 stand what it was about ; but on general principles 
 they were opposed to it, and ordered us out of their 
 shops. In Brick Lane, Whitechapel, I visited a laun- 
 dry, that took in the shirts and "starched work" from 
 the inhabitants of the neighbouring streets. Friday 
 was the busy day at this place, for the reason that 
 many of the customers were Jews, who, no matter 
 how they dressed on other days, were always careful 
 to garb themselves in clean white shirts for their 
 Sabbath day. The proprietor of the laundry told 
 me that quite often, when the work had not been 
 finished up Friday night, some of his customers 
 would come into the shop early Saturday morning^ 
 and, with their coats buttoned up to their throats, 
 wait about until their shirts were ironed, and then 
 request the privilege of putting them on before going 
 out into the street. This was the sort of place, too, 
 where the young man who owns but one collar and 
 one " front " always has them done up in time for 
 Bank Holiday. 
 
 In this laundry, as well as in the several other 
 establishments in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel, 
 I had an opportunity to become acquainted with 
 many of the women employed in the ironing-rooms. 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 203 
 
 I discovered that most laundry-girls married at a very 
 early age. In fact, I found but few girls over twenty 
 who were without husbands. One very pretty young 
 woman smilingly told me that she had only been 
 married the day before, and had come immediately 
 back to her post as collar-dresser. Asking her why 
 she married, when she saw no prospect of bettering 
 her condition, she replied that she liked the work, 
 and would not, if she could, remain at home all day. 
 All of these young wives had what they called "homes ' 
 — that is, two, three, or four rooms, with their own 
 furniture in them. The girl who married and con- 
 tinued to live with her parents or in lodgings was 
 looked down upon as being particularly unfortunate 
 or improvident. One young woman said that ever 
 since she commenced work, at twelve years of age, 
 she had been laying by a small sum each week 
 against the day of her marriage, in order to pur- 
 chase dishes, linen, and other things necessary for 
 the fitting up of a home. 
 
 " But how did you know you would get married?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " We all gets married. We has plenty of chances, 
 never fear," was her answer, and she eyed me sus- 
 piciously, as if wondering whether I had meant to 
 insinuate that she was likely to have no "chances." 
 
 To the minds of these girls the idea of marriage 
 came as a matter of course. One girl confided to me 
 that she had simply married because the other girls 
 did. She was not going to have people say that 
 nobody had ever asked her. That was an impu- 
 tation that no laundry-girl with any self-respect 
 could endure. 
 
204 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding the popularity of matrimony, 
 none of them thought for an instant of giving up their 
 trade. They said they returned to the work not so 
 much because they must, as because they liked it. 
 There appeared to be little or no domesticity about 
 them. In the mornings they either left their husbands 
 in charge of the rooms, or they locked the place up 
 until the evening when they returned. Those who 
 had children hired some old person — either a relative 
 or a neighbour — to take care of them, at the rate of 
 about three shillings a head weekly. When four or 
 five children from the same family were to be looked 
 after, there was a small reduction made. These 
 laundry-workers were not without their theories 
 concerning woman's "emancipation." When they 
 married they had no thoughts of giving up what 
 they termed their "independence." They clung to 
 that with the greatest tenacity, and were under 
 the impression that, by earning from ten to twenty 
 shillings a week in a laundry, they were able to hold 
 it fast. In a word, they all seemed " laundry-struck," 
 and marriage seemed to mean no more to them than 
 an escape from being called an " old maid." 
 
 In most of the places that I visited the workers 
 considered a certain daily portion of beer necessary to 
 the proper performance of their duties. Some of the 
 employers gave them a daily allowance; others, though 
 refusing to supply it for their employees, permitted 
 them to get it for themselves ; while in first-class places, 
 where no beer was allowed on the premises, the 
 women went to the public-houses and drank it at 
 dinner and tea-time. In the ranks of laundresses, 
 teetotalism is looked upon with suspicion and ridicule. 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 205 
 
 In their opinion, a glass of beer is as essential to the 
 correct ironing of a dozen shirts as is the flat-iron 
 itself. I believe the amount considered necessary on 
 which to do a good day's work (not counting " over- 
 time," which demands a special allowance) is one 
 and a half pints. If something could be done to 
 convince not only laundry-women, but workers in 
 other trades, that these two things, beer and early 
 marriages, are their greatest hindrances in the way 
 of social and intellectual progress an incalculable 
 amount of good would come to all England. 
 
 All the women were interested in the Factory 
 Act, although some of them had not heard of its 
 proposed application to laundries until it was ex- 
 plained to them. Some of the daily and weekly 
 workers expressed the opinion that even factory 
 hours were unjust, when it was taken into considera- 
 tion that the day of certain working men lasted only 
 eight hours. Of course, in the laundries, Monday is 
 not a busy day, the work seldom commencing until 
 the afternoon, so that with the Saturday half- 
 holiday, only five full days could be given ; but the 
 majority of the workers preferred working Monday 
 mornings, and being allowed to leave off earlier in the 
 evening, which, they explained, could be easily managed 
 if the employers would be willing to so arrange it. 
 
 Most of the pieceworkers favoured the factory 
 hours. It would really appear that regular hours from 
 eight until six would be much better for all concerned. 
 Many people, while deploring the ignorant condition 
 of laundry-girls, do not stop to consider that their 
 long hours give them really no time for self-improve- 
 ment, even though they desired it. Only geniuses 
 
206 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 rise above their surroundings and surmount difficul- 
 ties without other help ; and, as geniuses are rare 
 and ordinary people are numerous, it is almost useless 
 to attempt to do anything for laundry-workers under 
 present conditions. If the hours of the young girls, 
 at least, could be reduced so that their day would 
 commence at eight and end at six, then night-schools 
 might be established in the neighbourhoods of the 
 large laundries, and from eight until ten the girls 
 could be instructed and amused. Even though the 
 Factory Act is made to apply to laundries, that 
 requires them to work until eight o'clock. These 
 hours are too long for girls between twelve and 
 sixteen years of age, and it would seem that some 
 special provision should be made for them. 
 
 Many of the mothers, to their disgrace be it said, 
 are opposed to any shorter hours for their daughters 
 on the ground that it will give them more time to 
 get into mischief! I had this reply from several 
 women whose daughters were employed in laundries 
 where the hours were from six in the morning until 
 seven or eight at night. And these women, twenty 
 years ago, married " because the other girls married," 
 and then left their children to be taken care of for 
 three shillings a week ! At twelve the girls were 
 put to laundry-work, and henceforth left to their 
 own devices. There is not much wonder that they 
 got into " mischief," and no one is so much to blame 
 for it as their own mothers. To ignorance, more than 
 to a natural inclination for vice, may be ascribed all 
 the immorality that is said to exist among laundry- 
 girls. That there should be immorality under such 
 conditions is no more cause for surprise than that the 
 
Among the Laundry-Girls. 207 
 
 whitest snow should become tinged with the black 
 of the smoke through which it falls. 
 
 So far as I have become acquainted with laundry- 
 girls, I would say that they are not so bad a set as 
 is commonly supposed. They are kind-hearted, and 
 would go out of their way to help the more unfortu- 
 nate of their own class. They are grateful to anyone 
 who really tries to help them in the right way, which 
 is by putting oneself as much as possible on a level 
 with them and not attempting to show any superiority. 
 To the person who " puts on airs " these girls have a 
 peculiar method of showing their disapproval, whether 
 she be a worker in the laundry or a benevolent lady 
 from the West-End. 
 
 I have discovered that injurious chemicals are not 
 nearly so much used in first-class places as many 
 agitators would lead us to believe. Carbolic acid 
 and chloride of lime are more often made use of in 
 the smaller hand laundries than in the steam laundries, 
 although in the latter places the large quantities of 
 soda and cheap soaps might be considerably lessened. 
 
 I spent one day in searching for the " laundry 
 dens/' of which I had read and heard so much. I 
 found a few places where the sign, " Washing and 
 Mangling," led me up or down some dozens of rickety 
 stairs to rooms where I was informed that "a laidy 
 took in washing ; " but the clothes washed belonged 
 to people but little above the washerwoman herself in 
 station. On inquiring the names of their customers, 
 I was given certain addresses where mostly working 
 men of the lower orders lived. Such " laundries" are 
 not patronised by first-class people, although the 
 sweating system, which is followed by some superior 
 
208 
 
 Campaigns of Curiosity. 
 
 laundries, may sometimes bring about serious results 
 to their customers. These places, which are really 
 the most dangerous in London, sublet the work they 
 receive to women living in miserable hovels, and then 
 pass it off on their customers as having been done in 
 their own establishments. 
 
 From the large steam laundries there is nothing 
 to fear in this direction. It is only the smaller laun- 
 dries that countenance the sweating system. How- 
 ever, it would doubtless be a good plan if all 
 would personally inspect the places where they send 
 their clothes, and demand references from those who 
 apply for their custom. Such a course would, perhaps, 
 save them all the wear and tear of nerves that I 
 experienced when I started out in quest of "Mrs. 
 Johnstone," who lived "somewhere near 'Ammer- 
 smith." 
 
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