THE TERRIBLE SIGHTS OF LONDON AND LABOURS OF LOVE INC . THE MI DST OF THEM UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRAr AT URBANA-CHAtv BOOKSTACK.s Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/terriblesightsofOOarch \ Vcv, /6 St/T 3d '^. ■ MICHAEL ANGELO. 1^’ ‘ For these things our eyes are dim.’ Lamentations v. 17 . THE TERRIBLE SIGHTS OF L0M)0N AND l^aljours 0f iit miirsl nf t^m. By THOMAS AKCHEE, AUTHOR OP , ‘ STRANOE WORK,’ ‘ THE PAUPER, THE THIEF, AND THE CONVICT,’ ETC. LONDON: STANLEY RIVERS AND CO. PEEFACE. on c:i 2!1 ui.1 3 It is now nearly two years since, in the pages of Lon- don Society, I asked the question which suggested the title of the present volume, — ^ What is the most terrible sight in London and in briefly alluding to some of the darkest aspects of social life in the Great City, en- deavoured to draw attention to the condition of its desti- tute and neglected children. Long before that article was written, I had learned something not only of Lon- don’s terrible sights, but, what was better, of the holy work which was carried on in divers manners and in sundry places, to remedy the suffering and destitution that are often so appalling. When I had begun to think of recording some of my observations in a book that should serve to repre- 4 sent various efforts made for the relief of distress, the appearance of The Seven Curses of London, in which l^my friend Mr. James Greenwood has so graphically shown us some of the worst evils that belong to our I present condition, seemed to me to make such a volume ^ as I had contemplated no less appropriate, as recording 0 4 VI PKEFACE. at once the need for and the operation of benevolent institutions, established for the purpose of diminishing the evils complained of. The larger part of this book is occupied by the sub- ject of the care and nurture of friendless children ; and for this I cannot offer any apology, since I am every day more strongly convinced that our only hope of dealing effectually with the difficulties that daunt, and the dangers that threaten, us on the side of want, ig- norance, and crime, must be founded on a liberal and intelligent recognition that we are to accept the orphans of society as our own, and hold ourselves responsible for their being trained to a life of usefulness and honour. March 1870 . ITakurs 0f y0bje m i\it Cxtg* PEELIMINARY. Amidst the cold appalling flood of want and misery in the Great City, there rolls a Gulf-stream of feiwent compassion. The two most remarkable aspects of life in London are, its degraded poverty, and the almost innumerable associations for alleviating every form of want and dis- tress. The great thoroughfares of the metropolis may be said to resemble the advertising columns of a news- paper in this respect : that they display at once evi- dences of urgent and almost insupportable needs, and the means whereby those very needs may be supplied. Hunger, nakedness, sickness, destitution, are too appa- rent on every side ; and yet on every side charitable organisations appeal to us for support, and urge their claims on the frequently just ground that the work they have accomplished has caused those claims to be already widely recognised, and the work itself extended. How is it, then, that constantly multiplying institu- B 2 LABOURS OF LOVE. tions for the relief of calamity yet fall so far short of supplying the wants that called them into existence ; that with all our effort, and the ever-recurring agencies of secretaries, committees, reports, books, tracts, dinners, balls, concerts, meetings, and even sermons, the large sums subscribed are yet insufficient to supplement a heavy poor-rate and much casual almsgiving, by putting an end, at all events, to such shocking and yet preven- tible cases of utter destitution as are reported almost daily in the newspapers, and may be seen any night in the refuges for the homeless, in the casual wards of the metropolitan workhouses, or in the wretched abodes of the starving, but as yet unpauperised, inhabitants of some of our ^ low neighbourhoods’ ? The question is a difficult one to answer ; for al- though it cannot be doubted that a better economy and a more direct administration of the funds would effect much greater results than are at present attained, it cannot be forgotten that, but for the apparently compli- cated machinery by which many of these institutions are kept going, no such support could be obtained as is now represented by the long list of donations and sub- scriptions : — committees with influence in many diffe- rent spheres, — agencies at work in all directions, and secretaries with a talent for taking advantage of all sorts of contrivances for raising money, by giving people op- portunities for spending it on their own gratification, combined with the pleasant consciousness that they only consent to do so for the benefit of somebody else. In the brief preface to Mr. Herbert Fry’s excellent KOOM FOR IMPROVEI^ENT. 3 Guide to the Londoji Charities for the present year, there is a sentence full of sound sense, which must be taken into account whenever we begin to rail at the ex- travagant outlay presumably authorised by the com- mittees of some of our most prominent institutions : ^ Doubtless there is room for improvement in the ma- nagement of some charitable institutions; but we must not forget that the crop of public benevolence, of which England is justly proud, has to be cultivated with much expense, and garnered with hard labour and consider- able skill. But for the agency of men of business operating on the public mind by carefully studied and reiterated appeals, sometimes competing in no unfair rivalry for the gifts of the liberal-minded, perhaps not half of the money now bestowed in charity would be raised at all. Take away the machinery (expensive but necessary) and dismiss the secretaries, by whose ener- gies subscriptions are chiefly obtained, and many chari- ties would at once collapse. Take away the personal interest which the benevolent feel in the sufferers from this or that ailment, and it may be that benevolence in the abstract” will not be strong enough to make them draw their purse-strings.’ With this opinion, in as far as it relates to those institutions the proceedings of which are thoroughly known, and the accounts completely examined and pub- licly verified, I most cordially agree ; but it cannot be denied that there are too many ‘ charities’ where there is not only room for improvement, but an absolute need for thorough reformation. Some of them, largely sup- 4 LABOURS OF LOVE. ported and even handsomely endowed, but with so little regard to the intention of their original founders and the reasonable demands of modern opinion, that they have been concentrated into small corporations, exhibit- ing a contemptuous defiance whenever the propriety of a more exact account of their stewardship is even so much as hinted at. There are others, merely little local societies, originally designed perhaps to provide em- ployment for some philanthropic person, wdio persuaded two or three of the leading inhabitants of the district to join him in promoting a good work. They have grown into small institutions, where the committee consists of half-a-dozen gentlemen who consent to let their names appear in the reports, but seldom or never attend the meetings. The treasurer has a nominal office also, inasmuch as he generally disburses the accounts so promptly at the request of the secretary, that he has nothing left to treasure except the balance of the cur- rent subscriptions. The auditors, or the one who does duty, and is a friend of the secretary, pass the vouchers, and assent to the balance-sheet with cheerful alacrity. The ^ annual’ statement, which few of the subscribers take the trouble to look at, in the belief that it’s all right, because Messrs. This, That, and T’other are on the committee, contains no details by which it may be seen how much of the income is absorbed by the secretary’s salary and the working of the institution. Should any one propose a minute inquiry into the affairs of such an institution, the nominal committee would as likely as not deprecate any such action as THE SPRINGS OF CHARITY. 5 being ^ likely to injure poor’ Mr. So-and-so, the secre- tary, who is, of course, entitled to live out of an as- sociation which he founded with public contributions ; and Mr. So-and-so himself would probably smite his honest breast, deplore the want of Christian feeling in those who wickedly call in question his long-accepted integrity, and would endeavour to raise a suspicion that the proposition emanated from] some enemy, who was envious of the prosperity of the institution, and to satisfy whose unsanctified curiosity would be derogatory alike to principle and to conscious integrity. That ^ abstract benevolence’ would be inefficient for causing the public to draw their purse-strings may be at once taken for granted, because there is no such thing as abstract benevolence in such matters. All charitable benevolence is, of course, relative ; and the mere subscription of a certain amount of money, with- out knowing or caring to what object it was to be ap- plied, would not be benevolence at all. It may be doubted whether a large number of the guineas put down on the lists of charitable institutions proceed from true benevolence. They may be the result of tempo- rarily agitated sympathies, and are, perhaps, too often no farther expression of the desire to do good than may be discovered in the gratification of kindly susceptibilities by the luxury of giving. As a satirical writer once said on the same subject, ‘ Their wounded sensibilities secrete a guinea, and are relieved.’ It may be impos- sible that any one contributing to several institutions should have a directly personal interest in each ; but 6 LABOURS OF LOVE. assuredly true benevolence cannot consist in only an impersonal regard for the objects of charity. No man can even cultivate truly philanthropic sentiments by such a plan, much less take credit to himself for doing good. It is perhaps a good thing that the money he bestows is well spent, and applied as he would wish it to be applied ; but if he stops short at giving, and takes no personal interest in the work of charity anywhere, he has no claim to the character of a benefactor. Doubtless the present large organisations for the relief of distress permit, if they do not actually encou- rage, this impersonal kind of interest. To get as large a number of guineas as possible, and have a good work- ing committee, is the reasonable object of every earnest secretary of a flourishing institution ; but if he be wise he will encourage that immediate sympathy and warm interest which binds a large number of representative people to promote the success of their common cause. It is often difficult; for in many cases constant visiting at the institution would be a source of disorder for which no friendly aid could compensate, and the perpetual interference of well-intentioned but inexpe- rienced people would bring any such association to grief; yet it is well worth trying ; for organised schemes, the working of which is solely vested in a restricted committee of management instructed by officials, almost necessarily result first in an assimilation to state relief as represented by a poor-law, and then in a loss of individual interest. As a reaction from this, smaller associations are formed in order to enlist more personal DEMOEALISING AGENCIES. 7 sympathies for the same object ; the stream of public beneficence is diverted, by means of direct appeals, into inferior channels ; and unscrupulous persons take ad- vantage of the general confusion of philanthropic com- petition to misappropriate the funds. It is in this way that large numbers of the poor become demoralised, by being made the recipients of unsystematic relief, in order that rival institutions may claim the credit of affording aid to large numbers, for whom adequate pro- vision might have been made by existing charities, or by the establishment of branches of the same charity in different localities. In fact, the antipathy to centralisation has been made the means of fostering the worst examples of local self-government in benevolent associations, as well as in parochial and municipal corporations ; and it is only by a free and intelligent union of both principles that the best results will ultimately be attained. The suggestions recently made by the Poor-Law Board for the combined action of district charity-com- mittees and state officials, seem to indicate that some attempt may soon be made to effect this kind of union ; and the Society for the Organisation of Belief has already taken up the question with hopeful earnestness ; with what success remains to be seen. Should the plan advocated by this society, the mem- bers of which have given long and serious attention to this matter, gain the appreciation of the public, and a charity - committee be formed in each of a number of limited districts into which the metropolis may be di- 8 LABOURS OF LOVE. vided, for the purpose of cooperating with the guardians and the relieving officers, great* improvements must be accomplished — not by supplementing that relief which the state grants only to the utterly destitute, but by enabling the temporarily distressed to retrieve their po- sition, and so checking the fearful increase of chronic pauperism, and abolishing the profession of mendi- cancy. But such a scheme will scarcely be complete if it should stop there. In the future a large number of the various established charities may be included in this cooperation, and the districts themselves become important links in a golden chain of beneficence, one end of which should be the right of relief from the equalised rates paid to the state for the maintenance of the absolutely destitute ; and the other, the provisions made by voluntary contributions to alleviate the suffer- ings of those who need intelligent assistance in order to restore them to a position of self-support. It might be impossible to include every existing institution in such a scheme, but at least those which had special work to do would not lack support, since they would be taking as definite a part in the great object for which all London would unite, as they can do now that competing claims produce what seems to be inextricable confusion ; and it is certain that, while the cost would on the whole be decreased, people who now hold back from giving, because they suspect the professions of those who appeal to them, would con- tribute more cheerfully, and so lessen the burden that at present falls heavily on those who believe it to be their THE WORST EXAMPLES. 9 duty to give, whatever may be the occasional misdirec- tions of their bounty. Altogether apart from this question, however, it is the glory of our Great City that so many institu- tions have been for years carrying on works of mercy and loving - kindness ; patiently abiding by conditions which they are unable to alter; ready at any time to open their doors to those whom they seek to benefit, and their records to any inquirer who may desire to investigate their proceedings. Some of them may be open to the charge of perverting their original inten- tion ; but very few of them can be convicted of misap- propriating their funds. It is to the endowed charities, especially to the smaller and least-known trusts con- fined to particular districts and corporations, that we must look for the worst examples of such perversion and misappropriation ; and it is from these that we may expect the most strenuous opposition to any scheme which will involve close inquiry. We should be thankful to know that, apart from these, there are noble institutions, entirely dependent on public sympathy, the working of which will bear investigation, and the necessity for which will in itself be an appeal to all faithful hearts, while the poor do not cease out of the land. In the following sketches of some of these societies, it has been sought to indicate those that are most repre- sentative of the forms of distress which they seek to alleviate. They may not be the largest, the most pro- minent, or even in all respects the ' best managed but 10 LABOURS OF LOVE. they fairly set themselves to the particular work which they have undertaken, and, on the whole, show an in- telligent unity of action, which is one of the first essen- tials for effecting real and lasting benefits. It is necessary to state this much, because in a single volume it would be impossible profitably to name all, even of the really valuable institutions. Their omission from these pages does not denote any indiffer- ence to their claims, but is simply a necessity arising from the object of the book — the desire to show, by such examples as I can speak of from personal observa- tion, what is the Labour of Love that is trying to redeem this Great City from the curses that degrade, and would, but for that holy work, doom it to destruction. That some more definite charitable organisation is necessary will be obvious to any one who cursorily seeks for information as to the objects of various bene- volent institutions, and the amount annually expended on the relief of distress. To arrive even at a proximate estimate of the sum spent in various charities in the metropolis is almost impossible ; for many institutions not only refrain from publishing clear and accurately- detailed accounts of their working expenses, but do not even make a public return of the results of a balance- sheet. Probably some of them may have no proper balance-sheet even to lay before their subscribers, and some certainly do not print any accounts which will in- dicate the actual extent of their operations, or the cost of their working machinery. As far as can be roughly estimated from the returns of the most prominent and A STATISTICAL GUESS. 11 representative institutions, the sums expended annually would be : For orphans and destitute children, in about sixty institutions, 220,000L, distributed among 60,000 chil- dren ; but it is impossible to tabulate this intelligibly in a small space, since, while some of the children are in asylums where they are supported at from 151 , to 45L a-year each, others are only the recipients of weekly dinners or other occasional relief afforded by * ragged- school and refuge committees. In seven hospitals for sick children, about 39,000 are relieved at a cost of 14,500L ; but of these, only about 700 are in-patients, the rest receiving out-door relief. In eleven asylums for children, supported or assisted by various trades and professions, about 2,600 little ones are supported, at an expense of 34,000L ; but the amount expended per head varies very considerably. In seven schools with greater or less endowments, the income for the year is represented by 74,070^., to support and educate 1,642 children. For the relief of destitute persons there are a mul- titude of societies and agencies ; and as the nature of the relief varies from the occasional meal or hundred- weight of coals, or the shelter and breakfast of a night- refuge, or even the partial aid afforded by a soup- kitchen, to the provision of a home or a small pension, it is impossible to specify their distinctions. The amount of annual income in thirty-four of these institutions is, however, about 60,000^. ; and with this the enormous 12 LABOURS OF LOVE. number of 670,000 cases receive temporary or more permanent relief; each case, however, not necessarily representing a different person. In general and special hospitals, dispensaries, and institutions for giving medical aid, the number of per- sons assisted is almost incalculable, and bears an im- mense proportion to the sums received and expended. It must be remembered that the great army of out- patients represent the greater part of the applicants, who, although they add seriously to the frequently gra- tuitous labour of the medical practitioners who repre- sent the institutions, do not make a very great inroad on the funds. Thus, of about 1,200,000 persons re- lieved, only 80,000 are in-patients, and the income amounts to less than 3,000,000. In four institutions for the deaf and dumb, 423 per- sons, juvenile and adult, seem to have required 9,980L for their support ; and in four institutions for the blind, the number of recipients are about 3,070, and the in- come 21,400L The one idiot asylum at Earlswood returns its patients at 500, and its income at about 25,000i. For the relief of poor or destitute aged persons, fifteen several charities, assisting 1,706 per- sons, return an income of about 24,000L Eighty- eight charities, supported by various trades and pro- fessions, for the relief of aged poor and the widows and orphans of those who belonged to the crafts they represent, relieve about 19,000 persons, at a cost of about 190,000L In fifteen almshouses, mostly endowed or supported out of charitable trusts, between 300 and FALLEN WOMEN. 13 400 persons are sheltered and pensioned, at a cost of above 10,000L The pensions vary greatly ; hut the average, if they were equally divided, would be from 25L to 30L a-year for each person. Of corporate and endowed charities, as well as the operations of numerous charitable trusts in various dis- tricts, it is useless to attempt even a rough estimate, since they are kept so remarkably snug, and their original intention has been so lost sight of and per- verted, that accounts are neither furnished on inquiry, nor permitted to go forth to the public. For the rescue and temporary maintenance of those convicted of crime, fourteen institutions, representing about 3,500 cases, receive an income of about 30,000Z. And in fifteen institutions for the redemption of fallen women from their life of vice and misery, either by quite temporary aid, or by two or three years’ mainten- ance, during which they contribute by their work to their own support, the numbers relieved are about 2,850, at the expense of 31,000Z. CHAPTEK I. ^ THESE LITTLE ONES.’ Nobody's Children — What is a Foundling — Premiums on Immorality — Captain Coram — Public and Pri- vate Infanticide — The Benevolent Premium — The Legal Premium — Somebody's Baby — ^Brought up by Hand' — The Lesson of a Mud -pie — Public Cradles — Wanted a Baby-shoiv — The best Dinners in London — Somebody's Children — Drooping Buds and Fading Blossoms — In Beds at Batcliff-cross — In Borders at Great Ormond-street — The Dancing Chancellor's Locality — Making the Crooked straight ‘ Genteel Poverty' — Lilliput Village — The Hive at Haverstock-hill — Clapton to Watford — Live Wax- work at Wanstead — ^ Five Fathom deep ' — Water Babies — A pressing Question — A growing Evil — A threatened Danger — Charitable Gambling — The Power of the Purse — Benevolent Aitctions — Exchange and Robbery — Vote-hawkers and Proxy-mongers — Settling-days — Charity Dinners — Ungenteel Poverty — Daisies in Spitalfields. What is a foundling? The question is easily asked; but, in relation to any existing institution for receiving infants abandoned by their parents, it is one not easily answered. It may be doubted, too, whether any such ‘ SHE HAS NO RIGHTS.’ 15 institution in London would receive support, since its appeals would be met with a representation that a pro- vision for children presumed to be ' illegitimate’ would offer a direct premium, not only to immorality, but to the most revolting and unnatural form of cruelty. We frequently hear of deserted infants being found on door-steps or exposed to disease and death, from which they are sometimes saved by being taken by the police to the nearest union workhouse, where the officials will endeavour to discover and punish the mo- ther, and to make the father contribute to the support of his child ; but provision for this kind of pauper is not contemplated by the administrators of the poor- law, who may be said to refuse to recognise any such means of disposing of the awkward encumbrance of babies^ born in or out of wedlock. The law, in its terrible determination to discountenance immorality, does nothing whatever to mitigate the misery of the mother of an ^ illegitimate’ child, by compelling the father to support either her or her offspring. All he has to do is to keep out of the way; and even if he be discovered, the amount demanded of him is so ludicrously inadequate for the maintenance even of a baby, that the wretched woman would rather rely on his ^ generosity,’ or on some supposed lingering pity or passion that he may still retain for her, than sepa- rate herself from him for ever by appealing to a legal tribunal for her rights. In sober truth, she has no rights ; and the law allows her none. It is considered so necessary to up- 16 LABOURS OF LOVE. hold the sanctity of marriage, in relation to the usual property qualification by which, in this country, we re- cognise almost all social claims, that we forget there are two persons implicated ; and the result is direct encouragement to the seducer or the betrayer at the expense of his victim. We demand everything from the woman, nothing from the man. She has either to resist with unassailable virtue all the temptations to which she may be exposed, or give up everything ; for- feit all her claims upon society, as well as all means of redress, and become outcast from the presence even of Justice itself. In order that women may be taught how sacred virtue is, men are suffered to use all the arts of vice to induce them to sin, and pay no penalty for their success. The result may be seen among the ten thou- sand discarded children who throng our streets, many of them utterly destitute, and all of them without proper guardianship. The result might also be seen in the dreadful statistics of infanticide, if any such returns were made by the registrars, but at present no such information is included in their accounts. When these returns are accurately made, people will be a little startled at their revelations. Such knowledge of the subject as may be obtained from coroners’ inquests is a little disturbing to that sense of respectability which is believed to distinguish the middle class of society. At the last congress of the Social-Science Association, Dr. Lankester, the coroner for the central division of Middlesex, distinctly declared that the crime of infanti- CONTENTS. Peeliminaey .... PAGE . 1 CHAPTER I. ‘ THESE LITTLE ONES.’ Nobody’s Cbildren — Wbat is a Foundling? — Premiums on Im- morality — Captain Coram — Public and Private Infanticide — Tbe Benevolent Premium— The Legal Premium — Somebody’s Baby — ‘ Brought up by Hand’ — The Lesson of a Mud-pie — ■ Public Cradles — Wanted a Baby-show — The best Dinners in London — Somebody’s Children — Drooping Buds and Fading Blossoms — In Beds at Ratcliff-cross — In Borders at Great Ormond-street — The Dancing Chancellor’s Locality — Making the Crooked straight — ‘ Genteel Poverty’ — Lilliput Village — The Hive at Haverstock-hill — Clapton to Watford — Live Wax- work at Wanstead — ‘Five Fathom deep’ — Water-Babies — A pressing Question — A growing Evil — A threatened Danger — Charitable Gambling — The Power of the Purse — Benevolent Auctions — Exchange and Robbery — Vote-hawkers and Proxy- mongers — Settling-days — Charity Dinners — Ungenteel Poverty — Daisies in Spitalfields 14 CHAPTER II. eveeybody’s childeen. Juvenile Vagrants — Known to the Police — The Advantage of becoming a Thief — There and back again — From School to College — ‘ Wild Boys of London’ — The Devil’s Primers — Last ‘ Newgate Calendar’ — The Unions that empty the Gaols — Sheer Destitution — Homeless, but not Nameless — Polynomina- tion — Sensational Appeals and spasmodic Responses — The most terrible Sight in the World — A Cure for some of London’s Curses — Heave Ho ! — The noblest Ship on the silent Highway — A new Land Question — Over Seas — Brother Jonathan’s long Arm and warm Heart — Two Dinner-Parties in two Great Cities — Absent Friends — Soho -way — Newport Market — A Club-Token — Little Sisters — Lost ! — A dark Door in the ‘ Dog Row’ — Homeless anh Nameless — Rescue and Rest — The Wood- house Dovecot 211 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. OUR NEIGHBOUR. PAGE Pauperdom — Stones for Bread — What is a Pauper? — The Labour Test — Involuntary Paupers — The Casual as he was — New- port Market — Sheer Destitution — Playhouse-yard — Shelter — Rogues’ Fair — Thieves, Tramps, and Beggars — The Casual as he is — Field-lane Refuge — ^What the Poor-law says — Wliat the Parish does — Carter’s Kitchen — From Workhouse to Gaol — The only Way — London Interiors — The Model Lodger — Com- mercial Charity — Clerical Claims — Sensational Examples — Pious Bribery — Misrepresentation — Sunday down East — Who does the Work ? 367 CHAPTER IV. THE SAD, THE SICK, AND THE HELPLESS. Fainting by the Way — Alone in the Great City — An open Door and a helping Hand — The House of Charity — Cast Loose in London — A Holdfast and a Home — The Sick — ^A great Con- servatory — Blooming afresh — Fading away .... 456 CHAPTER V. THE LOWER DEEP. The Fallen — The Depraved — The Criminal — Rescue — Restoration 472 INFANTICIDE. 17 cide prevailed most, ^ not among the upper classes, not among the middle lower class, not among women of the lower class, because they were well under observation ; it was chiefly — almost only — among that class of women not observed — the women who could conceal their condi- tion, and who could be alone when the child was born.’ During the last seven years he had held inquests, on the average, on 71 of these children per year. In central Middlesex, the average yearly number of in- quests held, in which verdicts of ‘ wilful murder’ had been returned in cases of newly-born infants, was 1 in every 15,000 of the population. In the discussion that ensued, it was evident enough that the difficulty in which the law placed juries, who would otherwise find a wretched mother guilty of murder, arose from the inevitable conclusion that a great injustice was perpe- trated in making her alone responsible. For while the Eecorder of Bath advocated that the law should be so altered that, in a verdict of infanticide (meaning the killing of the child at birth), the jury should be able to regard the sentence as distinct from that which now follows a conviction of child - murder, another gentle- man was in favour of a penal law against the fathers. A paper was read in favour of an Act of Parliament authorising charitable associations to receive illegiti- mate children, and to proceed before a magistrate against both the father and the mother for the support of these institutions ; a startling proposition truly, but still suggestive of the difficulty that besets the whole question. It is certain that humane juries now feel c 18 LABOUKS OF LOVE. themselves bound to evade the operation of the law by finding verdicts of temporary insanity ; and Dr. Green of Bristol broadly stated his opinion that no woman .of sound mind wilfully destroyed her offspring ; a state- ment contradicted by Mrs. Meredith, who ^ related in- stances where’ (I quote the report) ^ young girls sys- tematically murdered their children, and learnt from their companions the art of committing this crime.’ All this is very terrible; and it is perhaps most terrible to find that the lesson of the sanctity of virtue, as demonstrated by the punishment for vice being in- flicted on one party only, is too readily taken for granted. Almost at the very time that this discussion was going on, an inquiry was being held in a tavern in the eastern portion of London as to the death of a girl of eighteen, a dressmaker, whose body had been found in Duckett’s Canal, and then lay, frightfully disfigured, in the deadhouse, where it had been identified by her unhappy father. The sister of the dead girl stated that she suspected her husband of having held an immoral relation to the deceased, and that she had several times heard her threaten to put an end to her life. The case then proceeded as follows : The Coroner : Has not this man got three or four wives ? Witness : Not that I know of, except one that he mar- ried before me. We have been married seven months. I took his word that he w^as not lawfully married. A Juryman ; He had a wife and tw^o children up -stairs. NEED OF A PUBLIC PROSECUTOR. 19 Witness : I was not aware of this. I did believe he had also lived with a fourth woman. Dr. Edward Howard Moore deposed that deceased’s death arose from suffocation by drowning. The coroner proceeded to sum up, when A juryman asked if the man could not be punished. He knew the parties well; and not only had the man two wives living in one house, but he had seduced this wretched young woman and another girl in the house working at the machine. The Coroner : I am not going to attempt to defend this horrible man’s conduct, but he cannot be amenable to this court. He has to answer to his God, and possibly to the law. A juryman said it could be proved that this poor girl was with the man on the very day she was supposed to have committed suicide. He considered that an open verdict should be returned. The jury ultimately returned a verdict ^ That de- ceased was found drowned in Duckett’s Canal ; but how she came into the water there was no evidence to show.’ It would have been just the same if an infant — one more witness to the shame and misery that in this case ended in a desperate leap into the canal — had been the victim. Its dumb evidence in a court of law would have been against the mother, and in such a case the same jury who found that there was ‘ no evidence to show how the wretched girl came into the water,’ would have returned a verdict of temporary insanity to save her from the extreme penalty. Assuredly until there be a public 20 LABOURS OF LOVE. prosecutor in this country, armed with enactments that will make the father share in the punishment, and until the seducer and the libertine he made to feel that the price of a dozen cigars a-week is not accepted by the legislature as sufficient recompense for ruin, disgrace, and misery, our efforts to adopt Nobody’s Children will still be paralysed. At present, all that Dr. Lankester can suggest is, that the workhouse should be the needed asylum, with gentlemen and ladies of refined feelings as masters and matrons, instead of unsuccessful tradesmen or favoured butlers. As this scheme is not yet adopted, however, the columns of newspapers still display the occasional advertisements of baby-farmers, who accom- plish infanticide without becoming amenable to the law, and furnish another horrible temptation to the despair- ing or the ^ unnatural’ mother. So our system of avoid- ing all ^ premium on immorality’ adds to the injustice already perpetrated by society ; and the great institution which professes to take charge of deserted infants has long ago given up all pretensions to retain the name of ^ The Foundling Hospital.’ Let us give it credit, however, for such work as it really performs — in the maintenance of illegitimate children, and the possible ^ replacing the mother in the course of virtue, and the way of an honest livelihood,’ if she can satisfy the committee of her previous good character, and can prove that the child is in no sense a foundling, since it ‘ can only be re- ceived into this hospital upon her personal application.’ It is 150 years since Captain Thomas Coram, who had lived for some time in Nova Scotia, and had brought THE FOUNDER OF ^ THE FOUNDLING.’ 21 the necessity for improved legislation in that region under the notice of the Government, came home with a moderate fortune from the American plantations, and, in his daily walks from Eotherhithe to the City, was greatly concerned at the sight of infants left exposed in the public streets. Having come to the conclusion that the destruction and desertion of children was attribut- able to the ‘ want of proper means for preventing the disgrace and succouring the necessities of their parents,’ he set heartily to work to provide a refuge to which wretched mothers might carry their offspring, and them- selves be enabled to return to a virtuous and honest life. In 1741, and only after nearly nineteen years’ advocacy of this work of mercy, the good old sea captain had ob- tained subscriptions sufficient for founding a hospital, and a wing of the present building was erected on the estate of fifty-six acres, which had been purchased in the Lamb’s Conduit-fields for the sum of 5,500L It was announced that at eight o’clock on a certain evening twenty children would be received who were not suffer- ing from any contagious disease ; that the persons bringing them should come in at the outward door and ring a bell at the inward door, and not go away until notice was given of reception ; that no questions what- ever should be asked of any person bringing a child ; and that to each child should be affixed some distin- guishing mark or token, so that the children might be afterwards known if necessary. These tokens, many of which are still preserved, mostly consisted of small silver coins, crosses, lockets. 22 LABOURS OF LOVE. empty purses, doggerel verses pinned to the infant’s clothes, and, in one case, a lottery-ticket, of which there is no farther record, so that it may he presumed the number was an unlucky one. The records of the institution contain copies of many of these verses and mottoes left with the infants at the door at a subsequent period of the history of the hospi- tal, and many of them are perhaps a little too sugges- tive of the demoralisation which an indiscriminate re- ception of children without question was calculated to encourage. Many of them are scraps of Latin ; others consist of verses, one of which runs, ‘ Pray use me well, and you shall find My father will not prove unkind Unto that nurse who’s my protector, Because he is a benefactor.’ In other cases the station in life of those who took ad- vantage of the charity was guessed at by the quality of the clothes in which the little stranger was left at the hospital-door ; and many of the children w^ere declared by the persons leaving them to be legitimate, the proof of which was that they were born in lying-in charities, available only for married women. In one case, the verse by which the infant was to be identified, runs, ‘ Not either parent wants a parent’s mind. But friends and fortune are not always kind. The helpless infant, by its tender cries, Blesseth the hand from whom it meets supplies.’ The number of applicants increased so quickly after the opening of the hospital, that painful scenes were EARLY RECORDS. 23 soon presented at the doors, where a hundred women might he seen struggling and fighting for precedence. To put a stop to this, the mode of reception was changed, and the children were afterwards admitted by ballot, every woman who drew a white ball being eligible. This necessity, however, itself indicated the difficulty which beset the undertaking ; and all kinds of fraud were practised in order to place children in the institution — a state of things which was a source of great uneasiness to the honest founder, who, when he discovered that the managing committee were receiving children with- out any method of ascertaining the claims of each case, made many representations which were so constantly disregarded, that he at length left the management of the institution in their hands. In fifteen years after the opening of the hospital, the committee applied to parliament for assistance, and it was designed to admit all exposed and deserted young children from all parts of the country. This extended scheme was countenanced by the government, and a guarantee was given by parliament that grants of money should be provided sufficient for the purpose. The first day on which this general reception was announced, a basket was hung outside the hospital-gates, and 117 children were deposited as claimants of govern- ment support. Then the gigantic error which had been committed became apparent ; fathers and mothers with large families discovered an easy method of reducing their anxieties, and illegitimate children were easily disposed of without any farther responsibility. The 24 LABOUES OF LOVE. conveyance of helpless infants from remote country dis- tricts, and their consignment to the hospital-door, dead or alive, became a distinct part of the carrier’s trade ; and parochial officers, in the exercise of a sagacity which is still their distinguishing characteristic, took advan- tage of so favourable an opportunity for diminishing the rate, and their own responsibilities at the same time, by emptying the workhouses of the infant paupers, and taking newly-born children from mothers who required parish-relief, in order to be rid of the burden that might otherwise be placed upon them. For nearly four months this system, or want of sys- tem, continued, and during that period fifteen thousand •children were consigned to the hospital -basket. The inundation of infant life was more than the most robust charity could make head against. The provisions for dealing with such continual claims were insufficient, and the precautions for preserving the lives themselves were but partially understood. Of the 15,000 ^ found- lings,’ only 4,400 lived to be apprenticed; the refuge became not a hospital, but a charnel-house, and the funds were exhausted. Starting afresh after this terrible failure, somebody, whose name has not been recorded, advised an entirely different scheme, which, though not so lamentable in its results, was still bad enough in principle. It was proposed to admit children with the proviso that each temporary occupant of the basket should have a lOOL note attached to it. This recommendation was adopted with considerable success, until a better counsel pre- A FRESH START. 25 vailed ; but it was not till the year 1801 that all such practices were abolished, and the entire charity was placed under the organisation which has continued to the present time. By the present mode of admission various rules are laid down, the preliminary qualification being, that the child shall be illegitimate and not that of a widow, the only legitimate children admitted being those of soldiers and sailors killed in the service of the country ; that the child shall be under twelve months old ; that the petitioner shall have borne a good character previous to the birth of the child ; and that the father shall not be forthcoming, he having deserted her. The mother must not have applied to the parish for the maintenance of the child, though her petition is not now rejected in consequence of her having been in the workhouse during her confinement ; no money, fee, or perquisite must be taken by, or offered to, any officer of the hospital ; and no petitioner is allowed to apply to any governor, officer, or servant of the charity, but must attend personally on Saturday mornings with their petitions, and await the consideration of the com- mittee. These petitions (which are clearly printed forms, to be obtained at the hospital) being considered worthy of inquiry, such inquiries are made forthwith by officers appointed for the purpose, and, if satisfac- torily answered, the mothers receive notice to bring their children. From the moment that the infant is received within the hospital, however, the mother holds no personal 26 LABOURS OF LOVE. communication with her child until it leaves the insti- tution. She receives a certificate containing the regis- tered number of the infant ; may make any inquiries at the hospital respecting it, and may visit the place and see all the children together — as, indeed, anybody may — at the proper times ; hut even supposing she recog- nises her own little one amongst that congregation of rosy, healthy-looking children, she cannot talk to it apart, and is ignorant even of the name it bears. This name, which was formerly given from histori- cal, fictional, and altogether fanciful sources, or was even sometimes bestowed by aristocratic godfathers and godmothers, is now probably taken by chance from the London Directory ; so that the ^foundling’ may, in after years, rejoice in a nominal connection with the highest or the least dignified of his countrymen. When the infant is received it is taken to the chapel, there to be baptised, and, with a parchment-label containing its number stitched to the shoulder-strap of its tiny frock, is handed to the wet-nurse from the district in Kent, to which all the infants are consigned till they are three years old, there to he brought up by cottagers, under the inspection of the visiting officers. Of the appearance and happiness of the children in the build- ing itself, anybody who chooses may be witness by at- tending the service at the chapel, where their fresh young voices ring in the choir on Sundays ; of the pro- vision made for them, anybody may judge by staying to see them at dinner afterwards ; of their general healthy enjoyments, cheerfulness, and unrestrained childlikeness NAMING THE CHILDREN. 27 (using the word in sad distinction from that dull hope- less look of premature age so often seen in some other places where children are supported by charity), any- body may have ample evidence on any visiting-day. In the great lofty dining-halls, where above a hun- dred hoys, a similar number of girls, and some fifty infants, of the average age of four years and a half, are eating with a will the hot roast mutton, whose savoury steam is hut slightly mitigated by rice-pudding ; in the long clean airy wards, where every child in its separate bed can be seen by the nurse from out of a sort of blue- check tent where she herself sleeps at the end of the room; in the great jovial kitchen, where there is evi- dence of good old-fashioned pies and puddings, and patent contrivances are supplemented by homelike ap- pliances which counteract the dull mechanical appear- ance generally presented by the cooking-apparatus in such large establishments; in the fine light lofty school- rooms, with their great black-boards for drawing and the chemical implements in a glass-case behind the master’s rostrum ; in the vast infant-school, where the flight of shallow steps, on which the little toddlers sit and sing, is large enough for a Venetian palace, and is sur- mounted by a pair of rampant rocking-horses, such as it does one’s heart good to see : — in all these things the present condition of the ^ Foundling’ is worthily shown. Amongst the boys, such a band has been organised that many of the young musicians go at once into the army when they are of an age to he apprenticed to a bandmaster ; and, to judge by the admirable manner 28 LABOURS OF LOVE. in which they perform difficult music, they seem to deserve, and indeed often obtain, places in crack regi- ments. But the Foundling Tvould he nothing if it were not musical; for was not Mr. Handel one of its best sup- porters, and were not the performances of oratorios amongst the earliest means for increasing its funds ? ' At fourteen years of age the hoys are apprenticed to such trades as they may choose, a premium of lOL being paid with each ; and, as the governors have taken the place of parents (though no governor has any privilege whatever in the introduction of a child to the hospital), careful inquiries are made before the apprenticeship is concluded. The girls, who go out at fifteen, as do- mestic servants, are also apprenticed for four years. It is, or was till lately, the rule that they should be placed only where another servant is kept ; where there are no lodgers ; and only with persons who are housekeepers, are of the Protestant religion, and can give references as to respectability. Boys as well as girls receive an outfit of clothes on leaving the institution. Further than this, however, the governors maintain their paternal character by inviting these apprentices to visit their ^ home’ once a year (at Easter) ; and as each employer is provided with a form which he or she can fill up concerning the docility, honesty, industry, and general good conduct of the apprentice, paternal advice, reproof, or exhortation is not necessarily wanting. Should the year’s report be satisfactory, the youth or girl receives a gratuity amounting sometimes to a sove- THE EASTEE INVITATION. 29 reign ; and any one who reads the various certificates, which are annually bound in a neat volume, will, as far as they are concerned, be assured that ^ nobody’s chil- dren’ generally do credit to their adopted parents. ^Good,’ ^good,’ ‘good,’ with very few exceptions, are the replies which masters and mistresses have written to these inquiries as to character. It is no wonder that, even after forty or fifty years of work, some of the old ‘ foundlings’ still visit their home in Lamb’s Conduit- fields, and consult their good old friend (if he will for- give me for so calling him) Mr. Brownlow, the secretary, as to the best investment for their savings. There is a separate fund, supported by special sub- scription, for the assistance, or even the maintenance, of such adults as, having been ‘foundlings,’ are inca- pacitated by constitutional bodily afflictions to obtain their own livelihood. This benevolent fund has lately been extended to aid sick, aged, and infirm ‘ found- lings,’ whose character is above reproach. I have spoken of the connection of this institution with music ; still closer is its connection with paint- ing ; for, almost from the day when William Hogarth designed a ‘ headpiece’ to a power-of-attorney authoris- ing collectors to receive subscriptions, down to the time that he bestowed upon the hospital his great picture of ‘ The March to Finchley,’ and organised a company of artists to decorate the walls with their works, it was the meeting-place of British painters. These meetings, indeed, may be said to have been the foundation of the first national association of British art. 30 LABOURS OF LOVE. In continental cities, where there are institutions for the reception and support of deserted children, there exist no provisions analogous to our poor-law system ; and a reference to statistics unmistakably shows that the mortality among the infants in those places equals, if even it does not exceed, that in our own union w^ork- houses — the only real Foundling Hospitals which are to be found in this country, and yet only unwillingly representing such establishments. Of some 5,000 ille- gitimate children born in London during a year, about one-half will probably die either in the workhouse wards, by infanticide, or by such neglect as may be included in the latter term; so that it is at least consoling to' know that, of the 470 little ones who have been adopted by the old charity, some at least have been saved from untimely death. During the year 1868, 63 infants, each about four months old, were received into the hospital, and the total number was 301 in the institution in \ London, not one of whom died, and 169 maintained in the country, of whom twelve died in the first year of their age, one in the second year, and one at sixteen years of age. It would seem therefore that, when these children are received, they are frequently in such a con- dition that their lives are uncertain; and it is not too much to say that, but for the care of such an institution, the mortality among them would be much greater. The entire expense of maintaining this large family was within a few shillings of 10,400Z., or a little more than 22L per head per annum. The premium paid for ap- prentices amounted to 570L 15s. 4ci., including cost INCOME OF ^ THE FOUNDLING.’ 31 for outfits, gratuities, and some temporary assistance in certain cases. In the absence of any official report, the actual in- come of the hospital cannot here be set down, but appeals are now being made for subscriptions to enable it to continue the work which it has for so long carried on ; and it must be admitted that some misconception exists as to its endowment, since although it has an income secured on ground - rents alone equal to or perhaps more than 5,500L, the original purchase-money of the estate on which their building stands, there is yet twenty-five years to run before the leases fall in. On this income, and the interest in certain stocks, together with pew-rents, collections, and voluntary subscriptions and contributions, the maintenance of the charity de- pends ; and as all the money is said to be spent on the object contemplated by the foundation, the appeals of the governors for help in their work may well be re- sponded to by public benevolence. Having said this much, however, it cannot be con- cealed, first, that the real ^foundlings,’ the deserted children of London, either die or run the chance of be- coming paupers and vagabonds, to be dealt with by other institutions ; secondly, that the women who can give such satisfactory evidence of their respectability as seems by the rules to be required are not the most likely to commit infanticide ; while in case of any such women only exposing their children to death by desertion, they are at once ineligible, the child being taken to the work- house, after which it cannot be admitted to the charity. 32 LABOURS OF LOVE. Of course it may be taken for granted that the in- quiries instituted by the officers of the institution are complete, and that the information they obtain is satis- factory; but unless this be so, there is always the sus- picion that such a charity may be the means of enabling both men and women to be rid of the responsibilities of their immoral relation, and women to escape the evi- dence of shame. Nothing can well be more valuable than an organisation which will enable erring and repentant women to return to the paths of virtue and respectability by giving them an opportunity of finding employment ; but it is just at this point that our unequal and inopera- tive law may too often find supplementary support. In any case, the woman who could obtain admission for her illegitimate child into such an institution would have a strong inducement to keep silence as to the whereabout of the father, who could not be legally compelled to contribute any adequate amount for the maintenance of their offspring. It is not therefore by any such means of relief alone that we should be satisfied to seek to diminish the present deplorable condition of w^omen who have become depraved, or to enable them to sup- port their children, but rather to improved legislation, by which a public prosecutor can bring the fathers to account. Once let such a law come into operation, making the seducer a party to any consequences that may ensue from the immoral relation he has sustained, and we should place a check upon libertinism that would soon show a result in the diminution not only of infanticide. THE INFANT HOME. 33 but of the ^foundlings/ who help to make the juvenile paupers and ^ gutter-children’ of our streets, and after- wards develop into incurable tramps and casuals, or, worse still, into ^ habitual criminals.’ The Foundling Hospital, however, is not altogether alone in its efforts to restore those women who, having given birth to illegitimate children, see nothing before them but a constant, and often a hopeless, effort to main- tain themselves without aid, and dare not run the risk of incurring the expense of a prosecution. There is a small institution in Great Coram-street, called the In- fant Home, which has been in existence for about six years, where the infants of such women are received in order to give the mothers a chance of supporting themselves and regaining character. When the women obtain employment, or have a situation found for them, they are expected to contribute towards the maintenance of their children, and a large amount of good has already been effected in this way, by restoring those benefited to self-respect. We are still, however, on the horns of that terrible dilemma, the result of unjust and absurd legislation, which forces us either to make the application of these charities dependent on such strict inquiries as shall necessarily include few in their benefits, or to open them almost indiscriminately, and so be under the lia- bility of removing even the one-sided restrictions that may now operate in some degree to prevent the evils of licentiousness, and to check the unlawful, if not illegal, devices of the destroyers of women. D 34 LABOUES OF LOVE. Somebody’s Childken. It is not alone among tlie deserted or the wilfully neglected children of this Great City that we look for suffering infancy, however. What is to be done by the hundreds of poor women on whose unremitting toil the maintenance of their little ones mainly depends ? The worst paid and the scarcest kind of employment is that which such women can take to their own homes ; and for the most part they go out to work in the morning, and do not return (except occasionally for a brief visit at midday) until six or seven o’clock in the evening. In large Italian warehouses, where they help to prepare the pickles ; as book-folders and stitchers, envelope and paper-bag makers; as tailoresses and sewing-machine workers, boot-and-shoe binders, cigar-makers ; as char- women and laundresses, helpers at hotels and eating- houses, market-women and hucksters of fruit, fish, or vegetables, — in a dozen different callings taking them from home, women seek to earn their children’s bread, while their husbands also work at some factory, or seek employment as casual and dock labourers. In all the poor neighbourhoods of London, and too often even in some of those that are of the ^ genteel’ or ‘ respectable’ character, one of the most painful sights to be witnessed by a nervously-sensitive person is the large number of babies in the care of young children — infants nursing infants, and preserving them from the terrors and dangers of the streets only by a kind of perpetual miracle. It often happens that a mere baby CHILDREN IN LONDON. 35 of six or seven years old will have to lug about a great infant, to carry which is altogether beyond her strength ; while at the mature age of eight years many a poor hungry -eyed, wistfuh little creature has the care of an entire family, proceeding in regular gradations from the boy only a year younger than herself, to the star- ing -eyed little stranger of a few weeks old, which is destined to be nursed on door -steps, and to be com- forted wdth moist-sugar tied up in a bit of rag, while it is cutting its teeth by the aid of the ring of a street- door key, instead of a coral and bells. Most of us remember how/the two greatest novelists, of our age have recorded such scenes as are presented every day in those poor homes were children have to take grown-up responsibilities with respect to other lit- ^tle ones not much younger than themselves. Who that has read The Curate's Walk can doubt that Thackeray had pondered almost painfully this phase of youthful life ? Who that has ever heard of The Chimes and Mrs. Chickenstalker can forget how tenderly and truly Charles Dickens has depicted the motherly care of a little ^ big sister’ ? But there cannot always be even this provision for the infants of women compelled to seek out-door work ; and though it often happens (for the poor, thank God, are kind, and often tender and compassionate, to each other) that a neighbour, with enough young charges of her own to care for, will consent to look after an urchin just able to toddle about and play with a bundle of firewood in some remote corner, it is quite likely that the poor little creatures will be left with some careless 36 LABOUES OF LOVE. old dram-drinking hag, who is the only ^ minder’ to he found in an emergency. It is wnrth while, then, to pay a visit to the places — alas, very few in number, and limited in operation ! — where, beginning at the very outset of benevolent effort, the infant poor are cared for, and the hard-work- ing mother, willing to make any effort rather than sink to the grade even of a casual pauper, is enabled to go out to her daily toil in the cheerful confidence that her little one is provided for, and even tenderly nurtured, from early morning till the time when she is able to reclaim it on her return. I am persuaded that there are hundreds of good kind-hearted people who do not know that there is such a provision, even on a small scale ; I am sure that there are hundreds who, knowing it, wish that its operations, could be extended, so that every small district in Lon- don should have its Cradle Home. Just beyond Oxford-street, where the artists’ colour- shops end, and a denser neighbourhood begins in Upper Eathbone-place, a rather dingy-looking house, situated in a corner, would scarcely be attractive to the ordinary visitor, except for a board on which is inscribed an announcement that the St. Andrew’s Cradle Home is to be found within, and that here, instead of ^Nobody’s chil- dren,’ we shall be able to meet with Somebody’s babies. There is nothing remarkable in the house, even after you have rapped at the door with a rather dislocated knocker, and have been admitted to a bare passage leading to a bare flight of stairs ; and yet your interest SMALL STUDENTS. 37 in it may well begin while you are awaiting the appear- ance of the matron, for through the half-open doors of the lower rooms comes the musical clamour of children’s voices. It would be impossible to say how many chil- dren ; for it often happens that our experiences in this respect are the reverse of those of the poet, and that instead of forty behaving like one, every six behave like forty. In this case, however, a slight tumult may well be excused ; for when we are invited to enter, we find from seventy to eighty small students assembled in an infant-school, under the superintendence of a governess and two or three youthful teachers. This infant-school, which is an advanced department of the infant-nursery, is only one of the many admir- able institutions belonging to the district represented by St. Andrew’s, Wells-street; a neighbourhood where, under the superintendence of the vicar, and with the aid of hearty work and untiring zeal on the part of the ladies who visit the poor and carry on the business of several societies, the benefit of the organisation of cha- ritable relief has been exemplified, and a resistless argu- ment has been furnished for the extension of a similar system to every district in London. It is by means of such organisation that, for a long time past, a kitchen has been established, where poor sickly women, and especially weak mothers, only just recovered from ill- ness, may obtain nourishing and wholesome dinners to take home with them. At this same kitchen the beef- tea, the mutton, the mealy potatoes, and gravy, the farinaceous puddings, the rice, and all those cosy little 38 LABOURS OF LOVE. dinners which supply the infant -nursery, are also pre- pared; and by a system of house-to-house visitation, and a pretty accurate knowledge of the neighbourhood, large as it is, these benefits are for the most part judi- ciously, and always compassionately, distributed. The relief afforded is not always strictly confined to the dwellers within a hard-and-fast line representing the parish ; but it is known to whom it is dispensed, and, except in the case of an occasional false address, to be noticed presently, is kept within known limits. The Night Eefuge at Newport - market, for instance, sometimes sends distressed or destitute claimants to the sick -kitchen, or to the infant - nursery ; and the benevolence of St. Andrew’s is always wide enough to extend over the border of its professed field of operation where there is urgent need in another district. It is reasonable to conclude, that with so much work to do, economy is necessary ; and there is some evidence of it even in this assemblage of undergraduates in the art of needlework and the sciences of words and numbers. The broad platform, with its gradations of stairs occu- pied by row^s of little ones from the floor almost to the ceiling, is similar to that of most other infant-schools. The classes, in each of which a score of boys assemble — some of them with pale and sickly, others with remark- ably chubby, faces — offer no particular distinction ; but there are two things which are worth noting. One of them is that, though the rooms are small, and certainly over-crowded, and the house itself is not particularly well adapted for its present purpose, there is none of that THE USE OF THE NEEDLE. 39 faint oppressive odour which too often denotes a vitiated atmosphere. The comparatively thorough ventilation may be attributed to the fact that, while a brisk fire is burning in the grate of the back-room, the windows, both back and front, are opened for two or three inches at the top. The other characteristic of the school is the extensive manufacture of patchwork petticoats, now being taken through various stages of sewing by a class for girls, one of whom, a skilled sempstress of about six years old, is at this moment finishing a ^ lining,’ composed of a remarkable variety of flimsy material, to supplement a kaleidoscopic garment consisting of a se- lection from a great basketful of pieces, supplied by some of the lady-visitors, who do not believe that the time has yet arrived for the ultimate triumph of the sewing-ma- chine in the abolition of the housewifely accomplish- ments of real hemming, darning, and stitching. But it is to the infants, the actual little ones of all, — to ^ Somebody’s babies,’ in fact, — that this visit was to be devoted ; and we have already had some indication of their whereabouts by the sound overhead of those measured, but yet jogging, footfalls, which long experi- ence has enabled us to connect with the brisk nursing of restless sleepers, who traditionally require to be soothed by such promenades. Up one flight of stairs, and here we are in the very midst of a thriving family of twenty-five — rather a s^paller number than can be seen on some days, when the number ranges from thirty to forty. Forty must be what is -commonly called rather a tight fit, if many 40 LABOtlKS OF LOVE. unaccustomed visitors look in ; or, at all events, a male stranger might require a friendly warning lest he should unconsciously tread on a baby. There is room for the twenty-five, however ; though one can scarcely wonder that the matron, the visiting lady, — who has taken off shawl and bonnet, and is just now busily engaged in hushing in her arms a rather sickly-looking infant, — the nurses, and their three or four assistant nurse -girls, should be looking forward to the spring of the pre- sent year, when the new building will be finished ; and schools, kitchen, and nursery will all be under one roof, with ample accommodation even for swings and play- space for the little ones. But it would be long before we set about works of mercy if we waited till all things were in complete order, and the means only awaited our disposal in model buildings fitted with every necessary appliance. There is something in the aspect of these two common rooms, with their two dozen little tenants, their homely iron- guarded fireplaces, their mantelpieces full of toys and cheap ornaments, their neat little iron cots, and their attendant nurses — one of them with three babies wal- lowing at her feet and a fourth in her arms — which has in it a more pleasant human interest than some large and completely -furnished institutions that might be named. We may rejoice, however, that more space, and a consequent extension of the benefits of the infant- nursery, is to be secured ; while we hope that the horo^- like character of the arrangements may be preserved. By the bye, in order to guard against the probability of AMONGST THE INFANTS. 41 accidents, the middle of one of the rooms is fitted with a kind of circular den, consisting of a ring of slight iron bars, the centre of which is occupied by a circular bed on the floor, in which three or four little tots, just able to struggle on to their feet, may be placed for their mid- day doze. Between the bed and the rail itself is a pathway of floor ; and on this stand two or three tiny cribs. It is one of the funniest adaptations of a den that was ever seen, but admirably adapted to secure the little creatures within it from the dangers of sudden waking and an attempt to stray about the room. Do you wish to see the inmates of this cosy cage at feeding- time ? Here is their dining-table, also circular ; being no less than the ordinary wooden chair and toy-tray developed into a continuous series, so as to form an un- broken ring composed of a circular form fitted with a kind of shelf coming in front of each tiny sitter, and provided with a ledge to keep the plate from slipping off. In this the little ones are seated in a ring, those who are able to use a spoon, as w^ell as such as are only just old enough to sit up with the support of the ledge in front, and yet require to be fed. Before the former are placed platefuls of ready-cut-up dinners — meat and potatoes, or of soft puddings, or bread-and-milk ; for the benefit of the latter, a nurse sits in the centre of the ring on a low revolving stool, as though she were about to play at some game like ^My Lady’s Coach,’ or ^Aunt Mar- garet’s dead.’ In one hand she holds a bowl of beef- tea, farinaceous food, or thickened milk, and in the other a spoon. One after another, as she revolves in 42 LABOUBS OF LOVE. her maternal orbit, the little mouths to which she ad- dresses her attentions open like the bills of young black- birds, and as often as a mouth opens, so often is it dextrously filled from the ever-ready spoon. It is one of the most laughable sights in the whole institution, and yet suggests so much — is so expressive of the great wants of this Great City, that one laughs with a choky sensation in the throat, and a tendency to find merri- ment breaking into tears. Milk, beef-tea, and meat with potatoes are the articles most in request ; but another part of the consumption, and by no means the smallest part either, is cod-liver oil, which, under the directions of a medical attendant who visits the institu- tion once or twice a-week, is dispensed with remarkable regularity. The need for such care is apparent enough in some of the wee wizened faces of the little strangers ; the results are equally obvious in the sturdy legs and chubby cheeks of the little creatures who have become regular nurselings at the ^ Creche.’ For two shillings a-week, all the advantages of this institution can be secured by the working mothers who have children to leave, even though those children be old enough to be sent down to the infant-school after their comfortable breakfasts of bread -and -milk, and their dinners, of roast meat or nourishing pudding ; but for these, as well as for the babes of a few weeks old, arrangements may be made by the day. In the latter case (that of little infants), the mothers are permitted to come twice a-day to nurse them ; but their inter- THE MOTHERS. 43 mediate attachment to the ‘ bottle’ would make an inte- resting picture for our old friend Mr. Cruikshank, to whom we commend the subject as a new reading of an old theme. If any one doubts the great benefits to be derived from the extension of such institutions as this, he has only to note the arrival of these nursing mothers. Here is one, a delicate, respectable young woman, whose face and dress and manner at once answer for her be- ing above any contact with pauperism. She is holding her little one in her arms, and evidently taking a re- freshing draught of maternal love, as she notes how its little wan face has plumped and brightened under the better regimen to which it has been lately submitted. Hers is a sorrowful case. A widow six months after her marriage, to a man of education and probably of refinement, she has been left to seek to earn her own bread in this great competing city. ^ Indeed, I don’t know what I should do without this place,’ she says in answer to my inquiry ; and she says it so heartily, and with such a tender earnestness in her voice, that no better evidence need be required. There is much encouragement in the work. It is a rule, of course, that the children shall not be suffering from any contagious disease, and that they shall have been vaccinated. Another rule is, either that they shall have been baptised according to the rites of some reli- gious belief, or that the parents shall be willing for them to he so baptised. There are occasional instances of false addresses being given, and of mothers removing 44 LABOURS OF LOVE. their children without payment ; hut these are few, and are counterbalanced by other cases, like that of a hard- working but very poor creature, who, having frequent occasion to seek the aid of the institution when she goes out for ‘ a day’s washing,’ brings her little ones as clean as new pins, and always contrives, if she has a few pence in the world, to give them their breakfasts before- hand, that she may not seem too exacting for the funds of the charity. In another place a branch has sprung out of this asylum for Somebody’s baby during the working hours of the working days of the week. In connection with that church of St. Alban, about which we have heard so much, there is an infant Creche where about thirty can be assembled in two upper rooms of one of the dim old- fashioned houses in Greville-street. The subscription of threepence a-day from those mothers who can afford to pay is supplemented by contributions from the alms- offerings at the church. The meat -food is cooked at the mission -house opposite, and a visit to the place itself will be sufficient evidence that it is a boon to those women who, but for some such provision, must either be in want, or must leave their children to the neglect of a ^ minder,’ who would set them to play in the gutter. As I go in at the door, two or three sturdy little rogues come round me in order to make a more intimate acquaintance ; one of them — a red - headed chubby fellow, with Hibernian features, looks so com- municative, that I fancy he can speak more than the two or three words of greeting with which he welcomes DRILL AND PLAY. 45 me ; but I am presently undeceived, for lie is too young even to have learnt the value of a penny, and when I give him one, is not at all impressed by a sudden sense of wealth, and would evidently prefer a brass button as a more attractive plaything. Have you never stood to watch one of the poor little inhabitants of a low neighbourhood at play on the door- step, with a couple of oyster-shells, two or three bits of firewood, and a supply of odorous dirt from the gutter by way of toys ? There is something strangely sugges- tive in the sight ; and while I look at it I seem to be in the midst of a large, light, and moderately - lofty room, with a pleasant bit of playground furnished with swings and hoops and a flower-bed. In the room a hundred -and -twenty little children are divided into three or four classes. One division is busy making ornamental mats by the ingenious process of plaiting coloured paper; another is engaged in a kind of drill gymnastic exercise, with hands turning, arms waving, legs marching, bodies erect, right feet forward, heads up, and every movement helping to expand and develop their little bodies to greater strength and suppleness. In the third division there are our old playthings, the oyster -shell and firewood, but without the mud, the place of which is taken by a number of other things — pieces of metal, coal, leather, salt — all kinds of familiar objects, among which are gaily-coloured balls, cubes, and geometrical figures, drawings of animals, trees, and plants, and a pile of slates, which look like the nume- rous progeny of the one big slate that stands astride on 46 LABOUKS OF LOVE. two sturdy legs behind the teacher, as she holds up one object after another, and talks about and explains it. In a retired corner of the room, on a large low iron cot, spread with a broad mattress, half-a-dozen little tired students are taking their usual afternoon siesta, and will wake up in time to join in the general song, to which the entire troop give such hearty choral effect, when they change from work to play. In a word, I am thinking of a ^ kinder-garten’ school — of a place where the infant life is made bright and genial, and instruc- tion is like a pleasant round game, carried on with zest and ardent gaiety. In many infant-schools, this system of object-lessons is gaining ground ; but we have not yet learnt to be liberal enough of space and air. We are too much afraid of profaning the name of ‘ learning’ by making it easy and pleasant ; we have certain theo- ries about ^ hard work,’ which bind us to certain mouldy old scholastic fetishes that oppress the child-life, and make the class-room, with its dim walls and frouzy windows, still more gloomy. Happy will it be for us, and for that rising generation of Somebody’s children which is to form the future men and women of England, when we ourselves have learnt the lesson of a mud-pie, and practically remember that child’s play is man’s work. In every poor district of London these cradle- homes might be established with advantage, since they would tend to obviate the evils which make a dozen other charitable institutions necessary for recovering children from the effects of insufficient food and warmth, DINING THE CHILDREN. 47 the neglect of the means necessary to maintain even moderate health, and would at the same time relieve the poor little creatures who are now taxed beyond their childish strength in the ineffectual effort to perform the mother’s duties. ' The best Dinners in London.’ There are few more painful sights in this Great City than that of the sickly and suffering little ones in the homes of the labouring poor ; for even where there is no lack of maternal tenderness, the daily struggle for bread cannot reach to the provision of such food and drink as are necessary to restore the lost strength, or to build-up the feeble frames of these little fading crea- tures. Happily this great necessity has not been alto- gether overlooked amongst the Labours of Love. To many of those who dine sumptuously every day, and yet are every day attracted by the announcements of the bill-of-fare in the great restaurants, it would be a new sensation to learn where they might take their place at the best dinners in London. It is true that they would only enjoy them by helping to fill a score of little eager mouths — would only appreciate their exquisitely subtle flavour by regarding them as vicarious banquets ; but if they would go and see the midday table where their little grateful guests assembled, and listen to the musical clatter of those thirty or forty small knives and forks, it would be, in the best sense, such a hearty meal as would give to plain fare a taste of heavenly manna for some time to come, especially if the cost of super- 48 LABOURS OF LOVE. fluous dishes were spent in adding another long table to those that are already spread. There are several of these glorious dinner-parties in various parts of London. As many as forty of them are held once a-week, under the auspices of the Destitute Children’s Dinner Society, which provides a meat-dinner for a penny to the hungry little ones attending ragged schools. This association, the offices of which are at 25 Grosvenor Mansions, Victoria - street, is designed, however, more particularly for the hungry and destitute. The institutions which refer more particularly to chil- dren, who are neither absolutely neglected nor entirely destitute, are intended to meet the very cases where such help is in some respects most desirable, by provid- ing good and nourishing food for sickly, puny, or under- fed, and consequently dwindling children, whose parents are too poor to give them the only medicine that can prevent them from becoming diseased. At 66 Earl- street, Lisson-grove; at 60 Paddington-street, Maryle- bone; and at 2 Woburn-buildings, St. Pancras, may be found three of these admirable institutions. In order to see in what way they may be made to work with the best results, and with an order and completeness that cannot be without the best results on the neighbour- hood, let us take the underground train to Gower-street, and await Mr. G. M. Hicks at the last-named address, where the matron is already (it being past midday) wait- ing for the arrival of two parties of w^elcome guests, while a handsome joint of roast beef and another of roast mut- ton give judiciously savoury promise from the kitchen. A CHEERFUL INTERIOR. 49 It is not a remarkable house on the outside ; and except that the place in which it is situated is a rather cleanly-paved nook, and that the appearance of the door and its step is somehow remarkably tidy, might not be distinguished from any other ^ genteel’ dwelling in the same neighbourhood. There is nothing of the ‘ insti- tution’ in its appearance at any rate ; and even when we are admitted to the passage, and find that the front and back parlours are ^knocked into one,’ by the re- moval of the partition, and that a long clean deal-table, covered with a white cloth, and a few handy forms are the principal furniture of the front apartment, its plain homelike character is not sensibly diminished. The few common prints on the walls, the little domestic ornaments on the mantelpieces, the bright fires in the ordinary stoves, all lend their aid in this respect, and the cheerful aspect is increased by a few plants and a fern-case at the back window, beside which stands a table presently to be devoted to the beef, a large dish of potatoes, a scale and weights, and subsequently to a wholesome-looking pudding and a jug of such porter as proclaims itself fresh from the brewery, without any licensed intervention on the part of the publican. It is not at the table in the next room, however, that the sick children are to dine : we can hear their little feet pattering along the passage and up the cleanly-scrubbed stairs to a landing above, where a wash-basin, with soap and water, stands in a convenient corner. It will be a good ten minutes before grace is said; and mean- while we can learn something about what the institu- E 50 LABOUBS OF LOVE. tion has been doing during the seven years since its establishment. To begin with, then, about 50,000 adult persons have been benefited at the ‘ invalid’s dinner-table’ in this lower room. Of these, a large pro- portion have been convalescent poor discharged from various hospitals, where a ‘ Samaritan fund’ has been established for the purpose of affording such a help to perfect recovery as can only be secured by a few good and nourishing meals for a week or two. Tickets are also sold to benevolent persons who are willing to fur- nish them to district-visitors of the neighbourhood ; to the St. Pancras Dispensary, 126 Euston-road ; the Dea- conesses’ Institution, 50 Burton-crescent ; or to hospitals and medical institutions in the locality. There is little need to look farther than the table itself to discover the wise beneficence of this plan. In the clear but pale faces, the feeble gait, the wasted frames of the men and women who are now quietly taking their seats, the story is told plainly enough— a story of a fight with sickness, not to be followed by a fight with famine ; of men made strong for work again ; of women restored to household duties, after being raised from the shadow of death, by the cheerful means of life that is afforded them without respect to creed, and with no other claim than the mute appeals of want and weakness. The one eloquent invigorating word ‘Wel- come,’ inscribed high up on the wall above the dinner- table, is itself a restorative ; and those decent, orderly, clean, but poorly-clad men and women, may well sit down to their quiet meal with thankful hearts, feeling THE OBJECT OF THE DINNER-TABLE. 51 that the homely comfort of the place, the punctual attendance of the two active maid-servants, and the presidence of the matron, whose appearance is another health-inspiring item in the banquet, are all suggestive of an institution expressly designed not to pauperise by bounty, hut to ^ help the poor to help themselves.’ Of course the special objects of this charity make it necessary to keep it open all the year round; and for above seven years it has been in daily operation for the benefit of the sick and convalescent poor, mostly under the personal supervision of its first promoter or his wife. It would be impertinent here to speak of Mr. G. M. Hicks in other words than his own ; since, during the many years that he has devoted his time and .purse to the organisation of the relief of distress, he has avoided the sort of publicity which would represent him as a professed philanthropist. His whole report occupies only the space of about three sheets of note-paper, including his appeal, a clearly detailed balance-sheet, a list of subscribers, and the names of the various persons and institutions whence applicants have been sent to the institution. The object he had in view in establishing this dinner-table may be said to be accomplished, which was to prove by practical experience how much real good could be done for a small sum of money; and the plan adopted to secure this result is so simple, that a mere statement is sufficient to recommend it for general adoption in every district in London. Library UNiVERSITY OF ILUN0I> 52 LABOURS OF LOVE. Annual subscribers of one guinea receive a book containing forty dinner-tickets, which are available till the 24th of October in each year. These may be given to the invalids for several weeks in advance by dating them. Each invalid must bring the ticket, properly filled-up in ink, with the subscriber’s name, as well as his or her own name, address, occupation, and the illness from which he or she has suffered or is suffering. Thus filled up, it is to be taken with twopence to the matron not later than nine o’clock in the morning. This is ren- dered necessary, in order that she may know for how many to provide, . since there is accommodation at the table for thirty invalids to dine daily, while a number send for provisions to be carried to their own homes. At half-past nine the matron purchases the day’s provisions, and is occupied till midday in preparing for the dinner, which is at half - past twelve, and consists of bread, hot meat, vegetables, and porter. White tickets are for dinners at table. Grace is said at half-past twelve when the dinner is served. Green tickets are only for those too ill to attend, and must be called for at twelve o’clock. Those provided with them must send a basin, mug, cloth, and twopence. Eed tickets are for either beef-tea, brandy, or wine, to the value of sixpence. The matron attends daily from nine till five o’clock, and is always ready to furnish information. Visitors are invited to call, and would oblige the promoters by leaving their names and addresses in a book provided for that purpose, accompanied with any remarks or sug- PROGRAMME OF A DAY. 53 gestions they may be pleased to make. When I add that arrangements are being made by which properly recommended invalids may be sent to Brighton — where, in addition to the benefits to he derived from sea- air, they will have the farther advantage of an invalid’s dinner-table, and also a working-men’s club and reading- room, with baths and other advantages for restoring them to health — I have almost literally quoted the whole report, except the too short list of subscribers. There are still a few facts to note, however ; the first of them being, that the twopences of the recipients (which may of course accompany the price of the tickets if desired) support the entire expenses of management ; so that the whole amount of the contributions is spent in the food and drink actually consumed. The pro- moter, in return for his seven years’ work, asks that it may he acknowledged by the inhabitants of the parish as one of the parish - charities ; and, as such, entitled to the yearly donations and subscriptions of each in- habitant who feels the claims of the sick and aged poor to be paramount to all others. ‘ Lastly,’ says Mr. Hicks in his brief appeal, which is, after all, no more than a statement, which he leaves to do its own work, — ^ lastly, as its plan of working is to allow of no expense which can be avoided, it is asked as a favour that donations and subscriptions be sent in post-office orders, instead of being called for, which, with its limited establishment, takes up time already fully occupied. ‘ The institution acknowledges neither parish bound- 54 LABOUKS OF LOVE. ary nor religious distinction, and has neither a com- mittee nor a collector ; neither does it advertise — its best advertisement being, to come and see it ; and its matron will receive all subscriptions and donations. This cannot be called a special charity, peculiar to a certain class or locality. Wherever the sick, aged, and convalescent poor are to be found — and where are they not? — there will he the necessity for an invalid’s dinner- table.’ It is cheering to know that this necessity has already been recognised in the various districts of St. John’s- wood, St. Giles’, Islington, Marylebone, Poplar, and Bromley; and that the good work has also begun in Dublin, Liverpool, Norwich, Bath, Clifton, and Torquay. But the pattering of little feet has ceased, and we are forgetting that it is ‘ Somebody’s children’ that we have come to see. Children from hospital-wards, from dispensaries, from crowded dwellings, and the courts and alleys where the very air is tainted; from homes where the gaunt wolf of famine is always near the door, and little lives languish for the want of more and better food. Of course no children with infectious diseases are admitted ; so you need not fear coming into the bright, well-ventilated, but warm and comfortable rooms, where at one end of the big clean white table a glorious musical-box is already twittering popular melodies with the twang of a hundred melodious birds, to a harmo- nious accompaniment of little knives and forks, and vivid, keen, eager glances of bright little eyes, which is wonderfully affecting. The savoury steam of that AN AFFECTING SIGHT. 55 great juicy haunch of mutton has a knack of making the eyes water a good deal, but you needn’t mind. Here, hide your face by stooping over a plate or two in the useful effort of ‘ cutting-up’ for two or three tiny diners, whose wee fingers are not quite so quick, nor their knives so sharp, as their sharpened appetites. Nearly 18,000 little ones have been helped by this charity since it was founded, and above 5,500 in the past year. ^ Scores of poor children in the immediate neigh- bourhood would be most thankful for even one dinner a-week.’ Yes, I should think so ; shouldn’t you ? I’m reading from the report — size, half a sheet of note-paper. But go on ^ cutting-up.’ ^ A book containing ten tickets, three shillings and sixpence;’ or, if you wish to include the penny which each child has to pay, let us say four shillings and four- pence ; not dear that, eh ? The price of a dozen cigars for entertaining a jolly little party of ten, and seeing each of them gain health and brightness before your very eyes. ^ These tickets may be given to poor children not being invalids, but to whom a good meat-dinner will be very acceptable.’ 0, I like that little touch ; it is infi- nitely suggestive of the fact, that every poor child to whom a meat-dinner would be very acceptable, and who cannot get a meat-dinner, is to that large extent as much an invalid as we should ever like to see a child become through any lack of giving on our part. 56 LABOUES OF LOVE. ^ Tickets sent to the matron will be properly ap- plied, or given to the curates, district-visitors, or scrip- ture-readers, as requested.’ Among these forty little ones, there is not a case that I can see where real bene- fit is lost, for every case has had some kind of investi- gation ; and though this is a poor sick children’s din- ner-table, these are not destitute. The specialty of the charity is sickness, widely interpreted to embrace that half- starvation on insufficient or improper food, which is the painful condition of so many of the poor, who fight to the death against actual pauperism, and would rather face death itself than consent to break-up a home. It is foolish of them, perhaps ; but does it cost more to help them to maintain this honest effort by such means as this than to make them paupers at once, hopeless hereafter of erasing the workhouse stain, and of re- uniting the ties that have been broken by the work- house laws ? But see, the musical box is playing its last tune for to-day; the bone of what once was a smoking mound of meat is retiring from the scene ; and here, on a plate, is a collection of sweeties which, if I were a medical man, should find no place at a sick children’s dinner-table, unless, indeed, they were to point a moral or adorn a tale. Stay a minute, that is just it. They are intended to do both, and so are the half-dozen oranges that accompany them. Girl num- ber one approaches the door, eyeing the plate with a half-shy, half-wistful smile, and a rather ostentatious display of as clean a pair of hands as can be found on this side St. Pancras church. A GENTLE EEBUKE. 57 ^ I’m glad to see a little girl come here to dinner with clean hands and face, and I always notice when children try to make their hair tidy,’ says the lady with the kind motherly face ; ^ and so I shall give you a nice orange, my dear.’ Confusion, and a rather resentful attempt of a grimy- fisted boy to go out with his arms folded, in which he signally fails. ^ What, don’t you wish for a sweet ? I don’t think you deserve it, but for this once I’ll give you one ; and remember, if you don’t wash your hands next time, I shall leave you out.’ And so on : only two or three culprits being sum- marily dismissed for repeated neglect of the proper ablution, although I have really seen very respectable, and even well-to-do, folks sit down to their midday snack with fingers almost as much in need of washing as all but the very grubbiest of these little digits. How- ever, the little moral is pointed, and so good-humour- edly done, that even the culprits go out with a broad grin extending their flushed cheeks — flushed with the generous meal as much as with the generous shame. Let us too go our way, and see what moral shall be pointed, what tale adorned, by that which we have seen to-day. At Katcliff-cross. Has it not often occurred to you that the mere superficial aspect of a poverty-stricken neighbourhood in this Great City may indicate the kind and even the 58 LABOUKS OF LOVE. degree of misery by whicli it is characterised ? There is a physiognomy of the streets, varying in peculiarity and expression, but strangely suggestive of the moral and social condition of those who live in the houses, "the features of which we have somehow tried to inter- pret. It may be a mere idle fancy to invest buildings, doorways, windows, shop-fronts, chimneys, waste spaces even, with a kind of association that makes them re- ceive and impart such suggestive influences as are sup- posed to belong only to living things ; but that fancy has seldom been stronger with me than it was on the Tuesday after Christmas-day, when I found myself, and in fact nearly lost myself, in the neighbourhood inter- sected by that long dreary street leading from Shadwell to Eatcliff-cross. I was still pursuing a few inquiries about ^ Some- body’s children.’ Not convalescent, or invalid, or simply puny and hungry children ; but fading children, sick children, children suffering from terrible diseases, children whose young lives had already begun to sink in the eclipse that is the shadow of death, with death itself — the dark entrance to a younger, brighter, purer, and more beautiful life — very near indeed. We have all heard of the terrible conditions which have marked out this locality in the records of want and misery. We have most of us learned to regard this eastern portion of the Great City as a sad example of the results of depressed industry, led into chronic pau- perism by the efforts of disconnected and unorganised charity seeking to relieve those for whom the poor-laws UTTER POVERTY. 59 had provided no adequate assistance, under the stress of exceptionally hard times. More than two years ago, all London responded to appeals made on behalf of an entire population ; newspaper reporters, benevolent agents, government officers and inspectors, charitable commissioners, all issued their reports — first of the utter destitution which cried urgently for aid, and then of the demoralisation which followed the indiscriminate distribution of alms. ‘ The East-end Distress’ became a regular heading for a daily column in the journals, and week by week struggling shopkeepers themselves succumbed to the heavy burden of the rates claimed on behalf of those whose custom could alone keep them- selves and their children from ruin. Famine had fol- lowed plague in that afflicted district, and the dreadful visitation of cholera was succeeded by a strike for wages at a time when many employers were keeping shipyards and workshops unprofitably open, rather than deprive their labourers of all means of subsistence; while others were compelled either to go on ‘half-time’ or to dis- charge all their superfluous hands. If this lamentable story had been ever so imperfectly known, it might be told to-day in the aspect of the streets. In a tolerably-familiar acquaintance with the most destitute neighbourhoods of London, I know of only two or three places where the tokens of utter poverty are equally significant. In some of the by- ways of Manchester, something like the dead unbroken silence and desertion may be witnessed ; in a few of the thoroughfares about the Shoreditch end of Bethnal- 60 LABOUKS OF LOVE. green the same paralysis of activity, the same evidences of enforced idleness and privation, are too obvious ; hut here these are to be observed amidst the objects which are supposed to indicate the commercial wealth and activity of the Great City. In breaks and gaps be- tween the thoroughfares of poor neglected dwellings, the masts of ships stand cold and naked to the wintry sky, like a clump in a forest of branchless pines ; be- hind the barred gates of docks and contractors’ yards, the debris of w^ood and iron, timber and cordage, is rotting in the ooze, wdiile not a sound of plane or ham- mer breaks the dreary stillness. In one dry dock the bowsprit of a big vessel has knocked down part of the very gates, as though the impatient monster, wondering at the unaccustomed silence, had forced its way to the street to see what could be the meaning of so strange a perversion ; and had poked its huge nose half across the roadway months ago, when, smitten helpless by w^hat it saw, it found itself astrand, and so grew into a portion of the melancholy scene — the mere lifeless car- cass of a brig, without the power to set itself afloat again, and doomed to w^ait for the tide that is so long in turning. Amidst long lines of small houses, — many of them with that appearance of genteel poverty which is of all poverty the most suggestive, and many that are tenant- less, — the few humble shops that still remain open bear painful evidences of their owners having lived upon their stock until it has dwindled down to the few ar- ticles exposed in the windows. It would seem that, in POOR LOCALITIES. 61 more prosperous times, some sanguine speculator had devised the scheme of establishing a series of small establishments for purveying ready-prepared provisions to the labourers of the district, and distinguishing each depot by painting the whole of its exterior a bright ver- milion. But •’ Eed House No. 3’ presents only a few square feet of blank staring scarlet shutters, while, fur- ther on, a similar emporium, evidently turned from its original purpose, displays nothing but a strange assort- ment of greens, firewood, stale pastry, and the remnant of a stock of last year’s ginger-beer. There is a re- markable want of butchers’ shops ; and even the bakers make no pretence of driving a trade by announcements that they are ^down again.’ Poor fellows! they and their neighbours have been down to the very last quota- tion long ago. The taverns, for the most part with that slovenly air that belongs to a failing bar -trade, have a hopeless look about them, for which some people will scarcely be inclined to pity them ; and at their doors, though there are a few desperate-looking viragos and a group or two of men who have somehow found the means to spend a few pence in the miserable effort to celebrate the season in rum, the general depression is expressed in dogged, painful silence. The very po- liceman, who looks gaunt and sickly, walks moodily to and fro, without even the relief of a case for the station- house to break the dull monotony of his daily beat. The children here must have a bad time of it. Wit- ness their poor little pale, pinched faces, as they go in and out, or creep along the bare footway. It so hap- 62 LABOURS OF LOVE.* pens that, in the only instance where I see an open door with some few evidences of comfort in the room beyond it, a man, who seems as though he has ^cleaned himself’ for the day, is engaged in ^ clouting the head’ of one of his progeny for an unseemly attempt to get past his legs while he is engaged in speaking to a neighbour who has made an afternoon call. Yes, it is a bad time for the children during this sea- son of distress, and yet there is not a rough man stand- ing outside a tavern, not a careworn, ragged, wistful labourer, who wonders how he shall next earn a meal, not a slipshod, hopeless-looking woman, of whom I in- quire the way, who does not speak in a softer tone, and point with a respectful finger, to tell me how to reach The East London Hospital for Sick Children. The place is no more than a tall, tumbledown, shabhy- looking dwelling and warehouse, close to the Stepney Eailway- station, having nothing to distinguish it from half-a-dozen other closed tenements in the locality ex- cept a brace of inscriptions on a black-board above each half-blinded window, stating its double purpose as a Sick Children’s Hospital and a Dispensary for Women. There is, however, one distinction which separates it very decidedly from other places near at hand, and that is, the coming and going of children with brightened eyes and pleased looks, and the assemblage of a small crowd of women, with the traces of recent suffering miti- gated by an expression of interest in their pale faces. Farther than this, the building is what it ever was — a IN THE CHOLEKA EPIDEMIC. 63 sail-maker’s counting-houses and store-rooms, with the sail-lofts in the upper story, where there are trap-doors in the rough and footworn floors, to which the visitor ascends by a rather steep and narrow stair ; bulks and balks of timber here and there in the heavy ceilings, and awkward corners to evade as best you may. It is, you may think, about as inconvenient a place to live in as can be found in a day’s walk ; and yet people do live here, a good many people too ; some eight or nine grown-up folks, and from thirty to forty children, make a bright and cheerful home of that old dilapidated sail- maker’s warehouse, if brightness and cheerfulness are inseparable from doing real good and loving work, as I earnestly believe they are. During the terrible cholera epidemic, Mr. Heckford, a young gentleman who was house-surgeon to one of the large London hospitals, had, in the course of his duties, to take an active part in the relief of the suffering population of this eastern end of the Great City; and in that arduous professional work he, as well as other medical men, was aided by the untiring energy and ac- tive skill of a few ladies, who, having themselves studied ‘ the healing art,’ became trained nurses, devoted to the labour of love among the poor. The present Mrs. Heckford was one of this charit- able sisterhood ; and when the epidemic had diminished and gradually subsided, the young husband and wife, knowing from hardly - earned experience what was the great need of the district in which they had worked together, at once set about establishing this Hospital 64 LABOURS OF LOVE. for Sick Children. Out of their own means they bought the only available premises for the purpose, this rough, awkward, but substantial and ventilatible sail -loft and warehouse, and there quietly established themselves as residents, with ten beds for ten little patients supported by themselves, and the hope that some voluntary aid from benevolent persons who knew the crying need of the neighbourhood would enable them in time to add twenty or thirty more. That hope has been so far realised that they have been able to maintain from twenty to thirty little pa- tients from all that teeming neighbourhood, where a large hospital with ten times the number of beds would not be more than adequate to the needs of the infant population. But they have had a hard struggle, ren- dered all the harder by the knowledge that, in at least half of the cases where they have had to refuse admis- sion for want of space and funds, the little applicants have been sent away to die, or to become hopeless in- valids, — not less from the effects of insufficient food and clothing, than from the nature of the diseases from which they have been suffering. How this young lady and gentleman have dwelt in such a place and such a neighbourhood, and with culti- vated tastes and accomplishments have submitted to the inconvenience of a room or two on the first-floor, from which they were almost ousted by the increasing need for space ; how they have bent those very tastes and ac- complishments to helping and cheering the noble task they undertook; how the kindly graceful lady — herself MAKING WAY. 65 in such delicate health that anxious friends implore her now to seek the rest and change which she so obvi- ously needs — paints pictures to hang upon the walls, and decorates the awkward nooks and corners with all kinds of Christmas bravery, to hide their clumsiness ; how, after the first struggle to found a permanent charitable institution, a regular committee has been formed with a proper constitution, a treasurer, and honorary secretary; how, on the 28th of January 1868, this committee commenced its undertaking, and before the end of the year were able to receive forty little patients ; and how the founders, who are still the resi- dent medical officer and matron, hope yet to see the means provided for taking a larger building, and the East London Sick Children’s Hospital become an ac- knowledged permanent institution, — it would take long to tell. At present the committee can only say: ^It must be remembered that this hospital was established by Mr. and Mrs. Heckford simply as an experiment. If the public would support it, so would they. It re- mains therefore with the public to decide whether a work of charity so worthily commenced shall come to an untimely end ; or whether it shall continue its warfare against disease and death, its vigilance and zeal and labour in the great cause of good against evil, of light against darkness, of happiness and comfort against misery and pain.’ What is now being accomplished in this glorious struggle may be seen by any one who will visit these roughly-appointed but wholesome, clean, and well-tended F 66 LABOURS OF LOVE. wards, where, in three long rooms, children in various stages of sickness or convalescence occupy the little iron bedsteads, or congregate in a smaller room, made bright and cheerful by the genial influence of a loving woman, who has gathered other loving women round her as nurses to the suffering little ones. There is no cere- mony in receiving visitors ; and directly I make known my desire to see the hospital, I am requested to walk upstairs, where Mrs. Heckford herself is to be found at all hours, and with an intimate knowledge of the special cases which make^ one family of the forty children under her care. It is part of the painful knowledge that comes with an intimate acquaintance with this neglected district, that want and privation, unwholesome dwellings and insufficient clothing, are the causes of half the diseases that prevail amongst the children ; so that the discharged patients still have a claim on the institution, and even some starving little creatures who have never been inmates of the hospital. Strangely enough, — and it is a fact to be marked by those who have not yet learnt the true character of the really de- serving poor, — many of the distressed people about that quarter will hide their dreadful poverty and misery so long as they are able; and when at last they go to claim the beneflts offered them, it is not till the case is almost hopeless ; so that though there are more ap- plications than can be received, even they do not repre- sent the whole mass of suffering that waits for the alle- viation that might be offered by a larger establishment. Passing through the wards and noting several cases CLOUDLAND. 67 of dire disease, some of which hold out no hope of re- covery, it is pleasant to learn that the nurses — young women of from eighteen to four-and-twenty — are them- selves attracted by the desire to aid in the good work, and though, they receive wages, are by no means so well off, pecuniarily, as they might he by taking other situations. They have one room in which they dine, and I am half ashamed to say that I intrude upon them just as they are about to sit down to the discussion of what looks like a savoury meat-pudding, in what is per- haps the best room in that queer old building — a room not without a sort of homely comfort, dim and awkward as it is in its general appearance. It would be easy to shock the reader by detailing some of the more distressing diseases which are to be seen among these poor little patients ; it is better to say at once that numbers of them have been brought through disorders that must have proved fatal hut for such timely aid. In the lower ward there are some very distressing sights : one child already nearing that en- trance where the shadow lies so dark, her little face flushed purple in the effort to gasp out the few remain- ing hours of this mortal life in an attack of acute bron- chitis ; another with an internal disease, recovery from which is almost impossible. The rest of the cases are more hopeful ; but it is painful to know how prevalent are those disorders that come of ^ want of constitution.’ Disease of the hip-joint and other strumous affections are perhaps the commonest form of complaint; and water on the brain is evident in the strange look of care 68 LABOURS OF LOVE. and anxiety on some of the soft infant faces and in the wide wistful blue eyes. There are cheering influences, however, in the little patients just able to sit up in bed; in the jolly little suckling of the infant -ward at the very top of the house, who is pulling away at his bottle as though he meant to suck-in fresh strength at every draught ; in a wonderful rough white dog, taken-in out of the street in charity, and now rejoicing in the name of Poodles and a general playmate. ^ Judge not Poodles by external appearances’ is the legend on his collar, and w^e adopt the salutary advice, especially when we see him, as a sort of frisky welcome, leap on to one of the little beds where a boy lies with disease of the hip. It is evident enough that the boy himself thinks nothing of this strange proceeding ; and he need have no fear, for Poodles avoids touching him with a dexterity that nothing but hospital practice, combined with true canine sympathy, could have imparted. Poodles and two other quite young students of puppies, who are evidently under his especial training, and do not at present ven- ture on the beds without special permission, and for the express purpose of cheering-up a patient who is tired of inanimate toys, are among the best tokens of the place. Stay though; here is something in a small empty room opening from the end of one of the wards. Something infinitely suggestive too. A great tree which, when it is reared in the large brown pan placed there for its re- ception, will touch the ceiling and spread its fragrant resinous branches almost from wall to wall. A Christ- mas-tree to be loaded with glittering little gifts and set THE WOKTH OF TOYS. 69 aglow with gleaming tapers on a night in the coming new year, when every little creature lying in bed, as well as the convalescent, and the past patients invited to tea on the occasion, and the nurses, and the dear matron, whose pale but cheerful face and tender hand seem to pervade the whole of that rough uncomely building and light it with a loving influence, will take part in the glorification. Fancy the toys plucked from those spread- ing boughs and carried to the little beds to brighten dim eyes and send a thrill through little wasted frames ; fancy the tears of mothers mourning for their sick chil- dren, and blessing the institution that may save them to grow into men and women ; fancy the quiet bustle and subdued activity that will be manifested in prepar- ing for this great event. There is a little fellow up here in the infant-ward who can tell you all about it. He is the only permanent pensioner on the establishment, and was, in fact, left on the hands of the institution by a mother who, after having used him cruelly, left him al- together. On being asked where he lives, he will tell you that he lives with 'poor Mary,’ that being the name he has given the nurse in charge of that particular dormi- tory ; and though he regards Poodles as his friend and tries to tell you so, he slightly resents any interference on the part of that demonstrative quadruped with a little wheelbarrow, which is his most cherished possession. This little waif of the great ' East-end’ — this living salvage of the great tide of poverty that surges round the docks and shipyards of riverside London — has been prospectively adopted by a gentleman in Boston, and 70 LABOURS OF LOVE. will be taken out to America this year. The gentle- man is a friend of Mr. Charles Dickens, who recorded his own visit to ‘ A Small Star in the East’ in All the Year Round for December 19, 1868, in such tender and pathetic language as befitted an author who has intro- duced all the world to Tiny Tim, and the favourite pupil of the ^poor schoolmaster.’ For about l,500i., a building, once the workhouse of the district, could be obtained and fitted as a large and commodious hospital fi3r this great poverty-stricken sec- tion of the metropolis. It would not be easy to exag- gerate the terrible need there is for some determined effort to accept increasing applications to receive sick, suffering, and dying children. ^ Two little ones, brother and sister, pleaded for ad- mission. One was rejected because a suspicion of pos- sible infection existed in her case. Although not so seriously diseased as her brother, she is left to die slowly, from want of adequate accommodation on our part, while he has been restored to health. ^Apet of the hospital named Waxworks, from her delicate appearance, was sent home in order to make room for an urgent case. She was readmitted as soon as possible, but too late. ^ On the other hand a boy was kept here a week longer than necessary because he had no clothes, and in the end the hospital furnished him with a complete outfit. It is true he might have been sent to the union, but it is our object to discountenance at all times resort to such help. This rule, however, has an exception. SAD CASES. 71 Once we were obliged to make a pauper — a child whose mother was at the time dying of consumption in the union infirmary. ^ A boy had his leg crushed by a wagon-wheel close to the hospital ; it was amputated, and the wound has practically healed. Fresh air is necessary to complete his cure; but he is gradually pining away, and will pro- bably die. This points to the urgent want of a conva- lescent branch some few miles in the country ; living, however, as we do from hand to mouth, we cannot of course afford this. ^ A mother, whose child is now lying dead in the hospital, declared that, but for the relief afforded her here for the other little ones at home (she received from us one shilling a-day and food), the workhouse would have been their only resource. Being respectable, they, as so usual with the deserving poor, had incurred the risk of starvation without applying for parish assist- ance.’ Such are some of the statements in the report. It is not only as a hospital, however, that this in- stitution is useful to the neighbourhood. Knowing so well what are the needs that surround them, Mr. and Mrs. Heckford have occasionally given temporary aid to these poor creatures who strive to the last against becoming paupers. In December 1868 there appeared in the British Medical Journal an account of a visit to Katcliff- cross, in which occurs the following case, which I offer no apology for extracting : ^ Another poor sufferer, of good character, dying of consumption, lay helpless and bedless in a garret, 72 LABOURS OF LOVE. covered with a few filthy rags. She had been discovered, insensible from literal starvation, by a fellow-lodger. She was sent specially in a cab to the Victoria-park Hospital, but was not admitted. A poor woman had just been attended in labour. There were only a few potatoes in the house, she had not a farthing in her possession, and her husband was out of work. The relieving-officer was written to for as- sistance by Mr. Heckford ; but he refused to recognise such recommendation. She was supplied by Mrs. Heck- ford with a few necessaries. Her husband immediately afterwards obtained work sufficient to render farther as- sistance for the time unnecessary. — In a room of one house were a husband, wife, and three children sleeping on a torn straw mattress. There was no furniture, except the framework of a chair, improvised into a seat by a piece of rope crossed. The husband was, and had been for some time, out of work, and received no parish relief. In another room, were a father, mother, and eight children, all subsisting on 7^. 6cL a-week.’ Well may the committee of the Sick Children’s Hospital say, that what that institution can now do is but little, when compared with the great waste of poverty and disease which surrounds it. Still they are hoping on, though they share the sufferings of the respectable poor, to whom help has ceased, because the indiscri- minate almsgiving which produced so much degradation has produced a reaction in the public mind with regard to ^East-end Distress;’ and indiscriminate almsgiving has been followed by almost complete withholding. HELP NEEDED. 73 Here, however, are plain facts which should need no special appeal : The number of children in the East London parishes, from which patients are received in this hospital, is con- siderably over a quarter of a million. In the whole of this district there are but three other hospitals ; that at Poplar, which is for men only ; that at Victoria-park, for consumptive cases only ; and the London Hospital, a general hospital with two wards allotted to children. What might be effected with increased means and greater space may easily be inferred. Between 300 and 400 in-patients have been relieved since the opening of the institution ; while the number of out-patients treated has been 4,624, the latter at a minimum cost of about eightpence a-head ,* and subtracting from the actual ex- penditure the items of furniture, repairs, and fixtures, and allowing 40L for the value of instruments which remain the property of the hospital, it will be found that the average cost for each child received into the wards has been 4Z. 13s. 6d. And this does not take into account the fact that many hundreds of visits have been paid to the sick in their own homes, where they have been supplied with food, wine, and medicine — treated in all respects as patients of the hospital. Once more to quote the British Medical Journal : ' Philanthropy is infinitely more active at the West- end, where it seems to be universally admitted that thirty or forty hospitals are not too many ; while the poor East-end, with a million or more inhabitants, has to be contented with two or three.’ 74 LABOURS OF LOVE. It may be hoped that any comparison made here be- tween the more energetic benevolence which has made provision for sick children at the Western end of the Great City, and the want of increased help in the wretched districts of the East, will not be interpreted to mean that there is any excess of charity in the former. By a better organisation all over London, the money now spent in the relief of the poor might well be made to effect wider and more hopeful results ; but this or- ganisation would only slightly affect the present careful economy in some of the best institutions, and especially the hospitals for sick children. It is not that less is required in the West, but that more should be contri- buted for the establishment of a similar provision in the East. Indeed, in the one admirable institution which has long been taken to represent this most necessary of all our asylums for the sick and suffering, the work is also stayed for want of space and adequate funds to extend the present building, and to provide new wards for the little patients in a branch-hospital out of town. The Hospital for Sick Children in Great Ormond-st. was opened nearly eighteen years ago, and its story has been told, or partially told, two or three times already; a story so interesting, and confirmed every year by such an increase of loving work and successful recognition of one of the most urgent and distressing claims on our humanity, that we may easily wonder the goodly subscription-list is not twice as long as it now LOOKING BACK. 75 is. It has, naturally enough, secured the tender regard of all mothers, from the highest Lady in the realm to the poorest charwoman who goes to see her little child slowly retracing its painful journey to death’s door, or to find it surrounded in its inevitable passage through the dark portal by every comfort that experience, skill, or earnest sympathy can secure. The story of this children’s hospital may be said to have begun twenty years ago ; but long before that time the house in which it was established, and has ever since continued, belonged to the records of medical history. More than a hundred years ago, a great physician, who had written a notable book about poisons, and had studied at some of the most celebrated medical schools in Europe, went to live in what was then a handsome new street leading out of Queen-square, and known by the aristocratic name of Great Ormond-street. Dr. Kichard Mead was a royal physician, and his house, to which he had removed from a more humble dwelling at Stepney, was a stately, well-appointed mansion, with a fine garden, upon which he built a museum to contain his collection of interesting objects connected with the profession he had so ardently followed. After his death, in 1754, the house fell into other hands, and, though it could boast at least one eminent inmate in the person of the late Lord Macaulay, whose father became its tenant, there seemed some probability of its being en- tirely separated from those medical associations which had originally made it famous. It happened, however, 76 LABOURS OF LOVE. that a few thoughtful and philanthropic gentlemen, who had long been impressed with the terrible aggregate which the hills of mortality presented in recording the number of children who died every year in the metro- polis, met together on the 30th of January 1850, to consider whether we could not follow the example of some of the principal continental cities by establishing a children’s hospital in London. The first terrible fact which prompted them to make an earnest effort was that furnished by the registrar’s returns, where they saw — as indeed some of them, being themselves in the medical profession, knew already-^ that 25,000 of London’s little ones died every year, almost before they grew to boyhood or girlhood — that is to say, while they were under ten years of age ; and with this was coupled the painful certainty that a large percentage of such young lives might be saved if only there were the means to afford them the necessary con- ditions of recovery; conditions, however, which could not be secured in any existing institution, since ordi- nary hospitals, even the noblest and most useful of them, are not adapted to the treatment of children, who must necessarily be regarded as an encumbrance where the resources are often insufficient even for the needs of the adult population. It may readily be understood, therefore, that the establishment of a children’s hospital involved the adop- tion of some means for increasing the knowledge of those diseases to which children are peculiarly liable, and that the hospital should include some arrangement LAYING THE FOUNDATION. 77 for fulfilling the part of a medical school as well as a training establishment for nurses. For nearly two years these nine gentlemen, who formed the first committee, worked and appealed to their friends for the attainment of the object they had set their hearts upon; and at last, in 1852, they were in a position to look about them for a suitable house in which they might make the experiment of establishing a hospital for sick children. To find such a building was no very easy matter, since it must, as they well knew, be at no great distance from the poor neighbourhoods from which the tiny patients would be carried sometimes in loving arms that could do no better for them than to bear them to a home where they might find the food and medicine, the health and strength, which would never come to them in the foul courts and alleys where they were born. It must be a large airy house too, with great lofty rooms, and the means for air and sunlight to enter freely. Of almost equal necessity there must be a gar- den, where little convalescents might use their nearly- restored limbs and renovate their blood with fresh air and healthy exercise. As though for the very purpose of supplying the place they were looking for at this time, the house once occupied by the court-physician in Or- mond-street became tenantless; and there, with very little adaptation, were the lofty spacious rooms, the cool wide staircases, the high windows that were needed ; whilst the garden where the doctor had built his museum was still in its glory with fruit and flowers, wanting 78 LABOURS OF LOVE. care, but with a whole world of beauty between its high walls. Eleven months before they could open it as a hos- pital, the house was taken and prepared for the admis- sion of the first patient — one little girl, who, lying there in her tiny bed, became the principal occupant of the stately old mansion, with its burnished-oak stair- cases, and its great high carved mantels. Twenty-four out-patients, and eight little creatures tended within the walls, was the work of the first month ; and it is rather an encouraging than a deplorable fact that the new institution had to gain the confidence of the poor mothers who brought their pining children for medical aid before the number of inmates increased. Very soon, however, the gentle compassion which was shown to the tiny patients won the hearts of these poor women who loved without the power to save ; and one after another parted with ’the girl or boy so much the dearer for being weak and helpless, that they might receive their darling back again in renovated health and vigour. The first year the income of the hospital was 314^., and it has been progressing ever since, the last total showing about 2 , 9001 . as the amount of the twelve months’ subscriptions, and a little over 3,500L as dona- tions ; sums which, encouraging as they may be as an evidence of progress, are surely insignificant when we remember the noble object for which this hospital has been founded and the appeal which its very name should make to every one of us. It soon found good friends, PROGRESS. 79 however ; and on one notable occasion, when the funds had been reduced to 1,000L, its cause was advocated at the annual festival by Mr. Charles Dickens; and it is not wonderful that, when he urged the claims of those who are yours, ours, everybody’s children, there should have been subscribed 2,850L It is wonderful that the institution should not have grown far beyond its present limits when its urgent claims are considered. Happily, however, the committee were able to in- crease their space by adding the next house and garden to that in which they commenced their philanthropic enterprise, so that there are now seventy-five beds for the reception of the little sufferers who are admitted within the walls ; while the number of those relieved has amounted to 720 in-patients, and above 15,000 out- patients. In the case of the latter, however, the ex- perience of this, as of most other charitable institutions, has been, that great vigilance was required to prevent the benefits of a hospital intended for the relief of the really poor from being diverted to a class in far better circumstances. It is in this out-door-relief department too that the difficulty arising from want of space is particularly felt, when the building is already too small to meet constant demands for admission, which are necessarily refused. In the hope that they will be supported by the sub- scriptions of the public, relying too upon the large de- gree of attention which royal patronage and numerous distinguished visitors have directed to the work, the com- mittee has determined to buy a freehold house in Powis- 80 LABOURS OF LOVE. place, abutting on the garden of one of their houses in Great Ormond-street, and in that way extending their accommodation, not only by enlarging, but as far as possible rebuilding, the hospital. For this purpose spe- cial contributions have been made, and are still required; but without waiting for this addition to their London establishment, the committee have already completed the purchase and organisation of a branch institution, without which no hospital for children can be regarded as complete, that is to say, a country convalescent home. It would seem that the managers of this charity have a faculty for rehabilitating old houses ; for the new home is established at a no less remarkable mansion than the ancient building known as Cromwell Lodge, at High- gate — a rare place, with a rare garden, and some doubt- ful legends about CromwelFs residence there, and a subterranean way leading from it to the magnificent ^mansion-house’ of Sir William Amhurst, lord mayor of London in 1694. Whether Cromwell built the house or not, his son-in-law Ireton’s arms were the ornament of the great room above the drawing-room ; while the wide deep staircase bears grim figures of Puritan sol- diers carved in oak, and balustrades with warlike em- blems, to attest the ownership. It is in these old lofty rooms, made bright and cheerful now by the sounds of infant prattle and the substantial beauty of little ones being brought back to healthy life, that the cots are ranged for twenty inmates drafted from the parent hos- pital in Great Ormond-street, and thirty-six more wil! soon be added to that happy juvenile party. Assuredly LITTLE CONVALESCENTS. 81 no substantial, but still ghostly, old mansion was ever put to a better or more exorcising influence ; and, it must be added, that few places are better adapted to such a purpose. Not too far from town to be separated from our Labours of Love, standing four hundred feet above the Great City, surrounded by fields, and with a great airy garden of its own, it will be a rare place for a month’s sojourn ; and should that time be found suffi- cient for the recovery of each little convalescent, the twenty beds will provide for between 250 and 300 children during the year ; the remaining thirty-six being available for chronic cases of disease, where slow lin- gering months of patient waiting will alone complete the cure when surgical skill has done its best. It only needs a visit to the hospital in Great Or- mond-street — where some of these poor little creatures lie, with spinal or hip disease that is curable — but 0, so slowly — to convince us how great a boon this grand old breezy retreat will be to such sufferers. It only needs a little observation of the brightening, but still pale, faces of the tiny convalescents in the great ward, where there is such store of toys and such a big broad floor for exercise, to appreciate how perfect recovery might be accelerated by a change to country air. It only needs a very superficial acquaintance with the crowded tene- ments, the close courts, and reeking alleys of London, whether they be in the back neighbourhoods of the West-end, in the dismal congeries of streets Eastward, or in the slums and fever-haunts of Southwark, to startle us with the possibilities that we are neglecting, 82 LABOURS OF LOVE. while we fail to redeem, the little children of the poor from such perpetual influences. It is not alone in the gradual restoration to health, but in the greater intelli- gence, in the changed expression, in the return of childlikeness to those little faces ; of love and trust to those wide-open eyes ; of freshness, or at all events of cleanliness, to those pale cheeks, that we read the lesson of the hospital in Great Ormond-street. Lying, reclin- ing, sitting in those neat cots, each with its handy tray to slide to and fro, so that food or drink or toys may be brought close to the little feeble hands ; creeping slowly, or toddling with returning vigour across the floor after wheel-footed horses, woolly dogs, or wonderful speci- mens of natural history that give forth asthmatic chuckles by means of artful contrivances — each one of these little patients is an appeal on behalf of ‘ Somebody’s children.’ No wonder that the institution should have become so popular : great wonder that its like should not be seen in every district of London, where kindly nurses, tender aid, and labourers for love can be found, as well as a bright airy old house, with rooms big enough for wards, and a garden full of light and air. It is this general sense of cheerful light and colour, and the sight of the rocking-horses, dolls’-houses, with dolls that would have to be doubled up to go into them, red ^garibaldis,’ palatable baby-food, and above all, cheer- ful vigilant attention to every little plaint and cry, that may at first not only prevent our realising how serious some of the cases are, but also defer that inevitable sigh that comes when we remember to what homes some EVERYTHING HELPS. 83 of these little creatures will have to return when they are set up again. Well, let us do what we can to remedy that too ; but meanwhile there is a box down- stairs for contributions ; or if you would prefer some- thing more in accordance with what you feel such a charity demands, then in the name of your own chil- dren, or of the children you might have had, or for the sake of those you have lost, or of those that have been spared to you — for the sake of Him who reminds us, in words of solemn and eternal truth, that their angels do continually stand before the face of the Father, do all that you can for these little ones and their brothers and sisters in the less -prosperous institution down East. Let even poor men and women realise the fact that six- pences — that pence even — have done great things when they have been called for to fulfil much less noble pur- poses. Let it not be forgotten that a toy, a picture- book, a child’s half-worn garment, a remnant of linen, cloth, or flannel, may help to comfort some of those little failing hearts ; nay, let everybody only follow the good old custom, and save up all their odd halfpence for the tiny patients, and a larger hospital will soon arise, in which there will be more space for ^ Some- body’s children.’ During the past year another hospital has been built for a similar purpose, but under different circum- stances, in a part of London where it was as sorely needed as in either of the districts already mentioned. Those who know anything of South London may well hear with grateful hearts that 84 LABOUKS OF LOYE. The Evelina Hospital foe Sick Childeen, in the Southwark Bridge-road, is now an established charity. Built and founded ^in memoriam’ by the munificence of a Jewish nobleman, Baron Ferdinand de Kothschild, this institution was opened on the 21st of June last with thirty beds, and since that time above eighty in-patients have received its advantages, while the out-patients number above a hundred daily. The number of beds are to he increased to a hundred, and the committee appointed to carry-out this most admir- able scheme of unsectarian benevolence expect that the expenditure will he about S,000L a-year. This is indeed a Labour of Love which only a few men in the world could so inaugurate ; hut there is not one of us who may not learn from it a lesson sadly needed in many of our professedly philanthropic efforts. It is founded by a Jew, a noble-hearted man of a people always forward in works of charity and mercy in this Great City ; a people with whom we associate, if not intense bigotry of belief, at least unflinching conser- vatism of religious opinion. In this, as in a hundred other instances where they open their hands, we find no harriers of creed set up to exclude their fellow^'-citi- zens from the benefits that they help to confer. It is strange, and well worth recording as a warning, that when this hospital was founded, the very first difficulty that presented itself was that of obtaining Gentile nurses who would not regard it as indispensable to maintain and symbolise, even if they did not inculcate, certain JEWISH BENEVOLENCE. 85 pronounced religious opinions. Of course, nobody can avoid observing the fact, that it was difficult to find competent nurses at all except among those religious and really devoted sisterhoods ; but apart from that, to them creditable, discovery, there was the manifest in- consistency of making a hospital built and supported by Jewish benevolence the scene of sectarian demon- stration. The difficulty was surmounted amicably enough, however ; and it may be regarded as a whole- some evidence that our Labours of Love are becoming truly worthy of the name, when we learn how a com- mittee, consisting of Jews and Christians, can find nurses to aid them on the ground of human wants and Divine mercy, without insisting on any special religious observance of their own. As Mrs. Gladstone and Lady Herbert of Lea have joined some of the most eminent of their Jewish sisters in this good work, and as it will cer- tainly turn out that the larger part of the Jewish money will go for the relief of poor suffering Gentile children, who will, it is to be hoped, become good unsectarian Christians, this arrangement is the only one that could have been reasonable. Up to the present time, indeed, not more than a tenth part of the in-patients have been of the house of Israel, though there is a Jewish kitchen, a Jewish cook, and a special Jewish ward, with its little roll of the Law hallowing the lintel of the doorway. It is perhaps in this way — in being slow to take advan- tage even of a Jewish charity while they can do without it — that our poor Hebrew fellow-citizens show their true conservatism ; but for the founder to endow a general 86 LABOURS OF LOVE. hospital in such a wide spirit of beneficence that he would only retain one ward for his own people rather than seem to profane the religion of all-embracing love is a sign of the times worth recording, worth ponder- ing, worth imitating. There are few greater needs in all London than that for children’s hospitals in each district. Not large establishments, but numerous branches of one well- systematised scheme, each supported according to its especial requirements, and the urgency and number of the claims made for aid by those to whom it is intended to afford relief. Doubtless we are far from having attained any such organisation ; but the experienced visitor to either of the present hospitals for sick chil- dren will be reminded that many of the cases treated in their wards could be better cared for in a separate institution particularly adapted to their needs. In the Evelina Hospital there is a distinct ward for whooping- cough ; and though this may seem to some people rather a singular exception, it really suggests the par- ticular want of a more systematic reference of certain cases to what, for want of a better term, I must call ‘ special’ hospitals. I apologise for the word ^ special,’ because I know that many eminent medical practi- tioners detest the term, since it is too often meant to signify something that would be better expressed by the term ‘ empirical.’ Still, there can be no doubt that institutions for the cure of particular classes of disease are not only most desirable, but absolutely necessary when those diseases require treatment not easily ob- BRANCH CHILDREN S HOSPITALS. 87 tained in the wards of a general hospital, and experience only acquired by studious attention and very close ob- servation of large numbers of cases. . Thus we have special hospitals of all kinds for adult patients, many of them achieving noble and useful work. Hospitals for consumption, for various internal diseases, for diseases of the throat, for epilepsy, and two most beneficent institutions for the incurable. Why should w^e not have branch children’s hospitals on the same plan, so that little patients requiring peculiar treatment may be received at places where the appliances, as well as the particular skill required, may secure for them more complete attention than can he aflForded even in those general hospitals where a ward is at present as- signed to them ? Among the patients at the Hospital for Sick Children in Great Ormond-street, as well as at the less-prosperous institution at Ratclifi* - cross, disease of the hip-joint, and those affections of the limbs which too often pro- duce permanent deformity, and are always difficult, fre- quently impossible, to cure without the use of properly- constructed instruments, and great experience in that branch of surgery, are constantly present. But for the establishment of three institutions for receiving such cases, the number to he seen, both in general hospitals and in our streets, would be far more numerous. It is to he wished, therefore, that these hospitals for the cure of deformities and affections of the joints were more fully recognised. Two of these are at the West-end : the National 88 LABOURS OF LOVE. Orthopoedic, in Great Portland-street, where in 1868 about 1,800 patients were relieved, at an expense of some 9001 , ; and the other, the Eoyal Orthopoedic, at 315 Oxford-street, and 15 Hanover- square, where there are a number of in-door patients, as well as those receiving weekly advice and assistance. This latter institution received about 2,000 cases during the year, at an ex- pense of about 2,600L The National Orthopoedic was established in 1836, the Royal Orthopoedic in 1838 ; but until 1851 there was no definite attempt to provide a similar valuable institution on the eastern side of London. Only those who are accustomed to visit the poor in their own homes can fully know how sad is the lot of the little cripple of the household, who, sitting beside the hearth in his low chair, lifts a pale piteous wistful face with the mute inquiry whether there is any hope of his taking his place in the working world, or if he will not be trampled down in his feeble effort to join the struggling ranks of those who are straighter and stronger than he. Thank heaven that in these poor households the little creatures mostly have what share of tender pity and compassion can be afforded to those who too early learn that they are an extra burden ! Our great novelist, touching with that tender hand of his the strings of human sympathy, has left the chronicle of Tiny Tim to attest the truth of this ; but 0, if Tiny Tim had been made strong, and instead of ‘ the sound of his little crutch upon the stair,’ the crutch itself had been pre- served among the relics of a less-happy time, the re- THE LOT OF THE CRIPPLE. 89 minder of a great blessing, what rejoicing there would have been in that poor home, even though Scrooge had failed to raise Bob Cratchit’s salary, or had counter- manded the turkey ! Making the Crooked straight is, however, one of the miracles of modern science and patient skill ; and the want of a hospital for the cure of deformities, in some place to which patients from the eastern end of London might take their children, was felt long before there appeared to be any means of opening such an institution. One of the first diffi- culties was to find a suitable building, at any rent which could be hopefully incurred, for what was then a philanthropic experiment. Strangely enough, however, this new and modern effort was commenced in one of the oldest nooks of the Great City. There is now some probability of the former land- marks of Hatton - garden and Ely -place being almost obliterated by the viaduct, the underground railway, the works of the Holborn valley, and the vast upheaving that is in progress in all that neighbourhood. Still, to those who love to idle about the ancient precincts of this great town, and in imagination repeople them with the historical figures from which many of them derived their name and fame, there are few more sug- gestive neighbourhoods than that lying on the right- hand side of Holborn going westward. Even amidst the sordid shops and reeking slums of 90 LABOURS OF LOVE. Leather-lane, and near neighbour to the militant church of Saint Alban the Martyr, stands the ancient mansion of Sir John Baldwin, long ago converted into a galleried hostelry, and now let as a common lodging-house, with all its glories dimmed, its chambers wrecked, and clothes-lines stretched across its dirty court-yard. The neighbourhood of Ely-place (once the bishop’s great blooming garden, all aglow with roses, to which the Duke of Gloucester sent for a mess of strawberries), and Cross-street and Hatton-garden, where once the palace stood on the spot now devoted to another church, may still enable a dreamer to connect the reign of Victoria with that of Elizabeth, and to recall the dancing chan- cellor, Sir Christopher Hatton, who skipped so grace- fully into the royal favour and the poor bishop’s palace and grounds, the prelate fearfully preserving the right for himself and his successors to walk in the garden, and gather twenty bushels of roses yearly. Poor bishop mulcted of his estate ! poor dancing chancellor dying of debt and a broken heart ! There seemed to be no good influence in the place ever after, until the estate had passed out of the hands that so unjustly held it. The nephew and heir of Sir Christopher, whose widow mar- ried Sir Edward Coke, had little happiness there ; and the great lawyer wore out his life in matrimonial WTetchedness with the proud lady, who defied him to the last, as well as the bishops who strove to regain the inheritance of the see. By a singular perversion, it is to this Lady Hatton that a legend has been applied, which tells of her having been suddenly taken (as it THE LEGEND OF ELY-PLACE. 91 were in execution) by the enemy of mankind, who in- troduced himself as a guest at a grand ball at the man- sion beyond Ely-place, and, claiming his own, vanished, leaving only the heart of the unfortunate lady, which was picked up next morning in the place since known as Bleeding Heart-yard. This terrific legend belongs in fact to another per- son, and to a far earlier period ; but either from the connection of the name of Hatton with dancing, or from the story having been originally applied to another Lady Hatton, or from the popular dislike of the wife of the great Coke, or from all three causes combined, the bleeding heart was referred to that lady ; and though nobody knows what became of it, it gave its name to a collection of frowzy little tenements at the bottom of a flight of steps close to the supposed scene of the catastrophe. At all events, part of the estate went back to the see of Ely after this lady’s death, and the property was subject to a rent-charge on the Lords Hatton till they became extinct, and in the middle of the last century the property reverted to the Crown. Before this time, however, the great garden had disappeared ; the straw- berries had been eaten, and the roses had faded to bloom no more ; for the orchard and pleasaunce was divided into building-plots, and great, ghostly, wide-staired, oak- balustered mansions, with wainscoted rooms and paved halls, rose all round the place. Such of these as still remain have mellowed and faded and become dim. Their glory has departed from them ; rats scuffle be- 92 LABOUKS OF LOVE. hind the wainscot, cobwebs festoon the ceilings, and the painted walls of the great staircases are so blurred by age and dust, that nothing can be made of them, even when their wreaths and ornaments have not been covered with modern paint and plaster. They seem as though they were waiting for Time, the great eater, to close his remorseless jaws upon them ; and yet in one of them there is going on daily, a work which should insure its rebuilding, a work which hun- dreds of the poor in this Great City, whose faces grow pinched and pale amidst the unwholesome houses and the sordid streets of Hhe worst neighbourhoods,’ bless in the names of themselves and of their children. It happened that when, in the year of the first ‘ Great Exhibition,’ a few gentlemen who had had their attention directed to the terrible prevalence of bodily malformation among the children of the London poor, determined to open a hospital for its cure, the only suit- able house within their means was one of these large substantial old tenements in Hatton -garden. The pre- sent house, with its large lofty rooms, its wide staircase and flagged entrance-hall, was therefore secured, together with a good-sized out -building at the back; and the City ^ Orthopoedic’ Hospital was established, it having been probably deemed a point of etiquette to use the word ^ orthopoedic’ for three reasons : first, because it is time-honoured; secondly, because very few people know what it means ; and thirdly, because those who think they know find that the word itself eludes any etymological research, and needs interpretation. This THE CITY OKTHOPCEDIC HOSPITAL. 93 interpretation was wisely added ; and the City Hospital for the cure of bodily deformities of all kinds became an established charity, where patients received advice and assistance without either payment or letter of recom- mendation. Its founders, Mr. Ealph Lindsay, M.A., F.S.A., and the Eev. Thomas Gregory, B.D., had thus accomplished the first part of their design, and they were peculiarly fortunate in at once securing the cooperation of an eminent surgeon who had already had great experience in the study of the treatment of deformities, and had also been long known as a lecturer on anatomy at the medical schools. Mr. E. J. Chance at once entered into his new engagement with an ardour and a judicious skill which, before many months were over, placed the City Orthopoedic Hospital amongst the most valuable charitable institutions of London. The number of pa- tients increased so rapidly, that the cooperation of ano- ther medical gentleman of well-known ability in the same branch of his profession was solicited ; and up to the present time, Mr. Chance and his colleague, Mr. N. Henry Stevens, have been compelled to devote, both at the hospital and at their own houses, a large amount of time and labour to the work they had undertaken. But it is a good work, a labour of love, and both gentlemen have remained staunch to their trust, notwithstanding the death of some of the earlier friends of the institution (including that of one of the respected founders, Mr. Ealph Lindsay), the immense increase of out-door patients, the difficulty of obtaining 94 LABOURS OF LOVE. funds to meet expenses, which are necessarily increas- ing, though they are limited with rigid economy, and — most disheartening of all — the inability of the in- stitution to take more than twelve in-patients, although it would be possible, by an increase in the subscription- list, to make up beds for eighty adult and juvenile sufferers. It is a wonderful sight that of the large bare wait- ing-room, where the out-patients come or are brought on Friday afternoons to see ^the doctor,’ — wonderful not only in the terrible, one might almost say the gro- tesque, distortions of limb and body which are there revealed — in the deformities which seem to be almost hopeless, and would once have been incurable under the mistaken discipline of the surgeon’s knife, but wonder- ful in the evident alleviation, the obvious growth in the process of healing, the gradual but certain and per- manent making of the crooked straight, of enabling the cripple to run and the lame to dance ; in the frequent recognition, by those who have been former visitors, of the face of a man, youth, or child, which has by some miraculous tenderness of science, some patient, hope- ful, gentle exercise of skill, been, as it were, provided with a new body, — a body no longer gnarled and twisted and utterly helpless, but so altered and trained that it may be said to have been re-formed. This is often done without the interposition of sur- gical ‘ operations,’ as they are generally understood. Ingenious mechanical appliances, constant examination and adjustment of the limbs and body, attention to the CAKE AND SKILL. 95 general health, and skilful appreciation of the causes of deformity, as well as its remedies, are the means em- ployed, except some delicate operation should he neces- sary; and then it is still more wonderful to see how swiftly and surely it is accomplished, and to notice the almost immediate result. I do not desire to dwell upon all the strange malformations to which a human body is liable, from the contracted face and neck to the club-foot ; hut nobody who remembers the number of cripples formerly to be seen amongst the poor can fail to be aware of the diminution of cases now found in the streets. In this great room, full of anxious mothers with children who once might have been hopeless and useless for life, but are now becoming straight, strong, and healthy ; and in these boys and girls, and men and women, who come in on crutches, or dragging their limbs, but whose hearts throb with renewed trust as their wistful eyes follow the encouraging faces, and the swift, busy, gentle hands, that seem to have the gift of healing in the name of the Divine Master, will be found the explanation of the disappearance of the halt and the maimed from our streets. Sitting on one of the beds in the ward upstairs is an intelligent-looking youth, who a short time ago was sent, without much hope of more than a slight allevia- tion, from a country union, of which he had become an inmate. It will be understood how little probability there was of his becoming any other than a workhouse inmate, when we say, that the only position he could possibly assume was that of resting upon the floor or a 96 LABOURS OF LOVE. bed on one hip and one arm, the other hip being nearly drawn to the shoulder, and both legs utterly powerless. Even the hopeful experience and determined patience of Mr. Chance almost quailed before the difficulty of en- deavouring to restore such a poor deformed body to any- thing worth the name of voluntary action. Thank hea- ven ! the doctor’s hope and patience seldom quite fails ; and in this case its rew^ard has been, that here, in a comparatively short time, the young man who has been moving about the wards on crutches, is now sitting on the bed dressed, quite upright, and reading a book, which he puts down to speak to us with a face beaming with a joyful sense of having, as it were, found a body and limbs which will grow more shapely, and improve for some time to come. There is little time to stay to talk to the nurse, who is at present engaged with a pretty little girl, with two such tiny club-feet, that it is painful to reflect how, at one time, ignorance might have left them ^to come right somehow,’ and so have made her a hopeless cripple. So many people are al- ready waiting below, that, as my friend points to the large building at the back, now let for a printing-office, and says how it had been hoped to fit it with beds, and so take more in-patients, I wonder whether some of the lame, who have been made to dance, ever become sub- scribers in their turn. It is quite likely that some of them do ; but they mostly belong to the poor ; and so determined have founders, patrons, and medical officers been to give their aid freely and immediately on appli- cation, that no introduction is needed for those who THE OLD HOUSE IN HATTON-GARDEN. 97 come weekly for relief. The result on the side of hu- manity has been, that since the foundation of the Hos- pital above 15,000 cases have been treated for all kinds of deformities with extraordinary success ; that about 1,300 patients attended last year ; and that the present average is above thirty new cases a-week. The income is, however, inadequate for the demand of the suffering poor — not more than 600L ; so that on the side of benevolence it may be hoped that increased subscrip- tions will enable the committee to extend their useful- ness, by filling the wards with those who cannot now be received for want of funds, and so making better asso- ciations for the old house in Hatton-garden than that of ^ the proud lady’ or even of ^ the dancing chancellor.’ Genteel Poverty. It is not the misery and destitution of the lowest class which need challenge all our attention, startling as the revelations are that come to us from time to time in the reports of inspectors and medical officers, or in the less technical and more indignant protests of occasional visitors to the ^ worst neighbourhoods of London.’ The sufferings of these people may be greatly ameliorated by legislation, or at all events by the proper adminis- tration of existing laws for the relief of distress, and the due regard of sanitary regulations. Those sufferings are obvious, and in many cases are matters of absolutely public concern. In dozens of foul streets and districts, where the law of the land is constantly disregarded with impunity, the door of the wretched tenement in which a H 98 LABOURS OF LOVE. score of destitute creatures are huddled together opens to the policeman’s touch. At the visit of the inspector, a signal goes up the common stair, and no room is too private for his official survey. It may be a hare apart- ment, with the broken ceiling threatening to come down upon the heaps of shavings and old sacks that repre- sent beds, whereon human beings seek warmth and rest, almost irrespective of age and sex. It may be a damp cellar, where four families occupy the remote corners, and cower like wild animals under their heaps of rags as the bull’s-eye shines upon them, and they blink in the unaccustomed glare. It may be the neatly- furnished front-parlour, with its gaudy tea-tray on the dwarf sideboard, and its china tea - set on the mantel- piece ; its hit of carpet and round mahogany table ; its cheerful little fire in the grate ; and its press bedstead well fitted with bed and blankets, whereon the harpy of Tiger Bay snores off her drunken sleep; while the wretched girls she keeps on the look-out for Jack sit on the door-step outside, and croon music-hall songs as their hold eyes watch for their prey coming down the street. How they scuttle off the step as the active and intelligent officer approaches ! With what half-subdued enjoyment they invite him to go in ! He needs no invi- tation, no authority, to turn the lock of that parlour- door, any more than he needs any special warrant to penetrate to the cellar just referred to. That great sec- tion of London, which should be represented by a black . mark on metropolitan maps, is explored daily ; and its features are becoming so familiar to us, that there is DUMB POVERTY. 99 some danger of our losing that first horror, that pity, that indignant shame that promised to lead to definite and useful action. The time seems to be approaching when we shall he as thoroughly informed about the dwellers in the poverty-stricken districts of Westmin- ster, Southwark, Spitalfields, and Whitechapel, as we are in respect of the natives of those countries to which so much missionary enterprise has been devoted ever since the establishment of a society for the purpose of converting the more remote heathen. It is to quite a different class of people we must look, and mostly in different parts of the metropolis, if we would seek the poverty that makes no sign, the distress that is borne dumbly, the grinding need that goes on from day to day, from month to month, often from year to year; the need that, without becoming absolute want— the distress that, stopping short of sheer destitution — yet wear out the hearts and embitter the lives of struggling men and women. Among the artisans who have ^ seen better days’ — the operatives who work at superseded industries ; strug- gling, unsuccessful shopkeepers ; above all, among that large poorest section of the middle class represented by placemen holding clerkships, small official appointments, and underpaid situations of all kinds, — there is a con- stant hopeless contest going on against that proverbial Vvolf, who is so near the door that his grim jowl can be seen as he eyes the children through the window. These are the people for whom legislation can do very little. It may do something in providing better houses 100 LABOURS OF LOVE. than the flimsy villas that are so damp and draughty, and hlack-heetly, and generally insecure, in spite of the Building Acts ; it may organise and develop the means of middle -class education, by the application to their original purpose of thousands and thousands of pounds left in charitable trusts for the support of schools ; it may insist on certain other charitable bequests, grown to a hundred times their original dimensions through the increased value of property, being carefully and pro- perly administered for the relief of the sick, the aged, and the unfortunate ; above all, it may set itself to the reduction of the cost of government — a work which the honest representatives of both parties in the State have striven to effect when they had the power — a work which the mere partisans and place-seekers of all parties have neglected when they have not been able to retard it for their own ends. Crushed by the weight of rent and taxes, which absorb often more than a fourth part of his entire income, and sometimes a still larger proportion, what is the clerk, the warehouseman, the employe, with a wife and children, to do, when butchers combine against him, and a doctor’s hill follows the defective drainage of his house, and bread is up a penny a loaf, and potatoes a halfpenny a pound ? With what wistful looks — looks that are a great deal too much like despair — does he listen as his wife counts up the week’s marketing, and hints that the children are nearly barefoot, and admits that she and they have had bread -and -dripping for dinner three days running, to save the remnant of the Sunday’s CEUSHED ! 101 joint ! How worn and haggard she looks ! how differ- ent from the bright plump-cheeked girl she was a few years since, when they married in the foolish youth- ful hope that what was enough for one would he enough for two ! There are five or six now, they think with a yearning sigh as they hear the sound of little slipshod feet upon the stairs. What are they to do ? One by one the little household gods disappear : the old family plate, the engaged ring, the gold shirt-pin, the velvet cloak, the bunch of seals that belonged to uncle George — all go the same mysterious journey in the black hag with which the master of the house goes out after dusk. It is doubtful whether thej^ can ever be redeemed ; it is hoped they may, and that the best china tea-service may not have to follow them. Hope ! they live on hope, these people ; they hope through tears, and sighs, and privation, and some- times through sore bereavement ; till hope itself, so long deferred of fulfilment, turns to the heart - sick- ness that strikes a man old before his time, makes the threadbare places in his shabby clothes stare out as though they refused any longer to aid a lie, and brings into his face a look which may mean : ^ Why was I not born lower, so that there should have been no need to hide the poverty that breaks me down ?’ What is waiting for him all this time ? What ready plausible devil is at his elbow w^hen the pang is sharpest or courage the faintest ? Not the devil that tempts to crime, not the more specious devil that seduces to drink, perhaps — although he is there too often, and the ^ glass 102 LABOURS OF LOVE. just to keep you going’ ends with the halfpence for the day’s poor dinner being taken off the mantelpiece to pay for a dram. It is neither of these, however, that is the insidious demon luring genteel poverty to ruin. That specious devil is most to be feared who, perhaps, first makes known his presence by a circular, a card given in the street, an advertisement artfully framed to make the sale of oneself seem quite an ordinary business trans- action, and not the deep damnation that it really turns out to be. Is it money you want ? Just the most de- licate inquiry in the world ; a hill of sale quite unneces- sary ; quite another sort of bill, with your name on the hack of it, and — well, just another name as a little addi- tional security in the way of business. Things must take a turn ; and then as to interest — well, if the worst comes to the worst, there’s such a thing as renewing with ano- ther name, that’s all. Why, anybody can get money so long as they have credit ; and for a man who has always paid his way to go moping about for the want of a few pounds — my dear sir, what can you be thinking about ? Wherever he turns, unless he be of a singularly secluded nature, this subtle suggestion is whispered in his ear, and the agents of this diabolical temptation have him by the button before he knows that he has yielded. Witness the reams of circulars, the columns of advertisements, the packs of cards, addressed to per- sons in difficulties — to genteel poverty in every grade of life. The very government offices swarm with repre- sentatives of the money-lender, who has a double hold THE MONEY-LENDEKS. 103 upon his victims, inasmuch as they would lose their bread if he were to make known that they had dealings with him. At the Bank of England, where men wait for years before they gain a comfortable income by slow promotion — at the Custom House, where at one time, though this was long ago, one of the lowest officials in the place had money out at interest, secured by the names of his superiors on stamped paper — in all depart- ments of the public service and of private placemanship, the devil’s ready-reckoner is there to prove how easy a thing it will be to pay to-morrow what to-day you have no hope of possessing. But supposing the various temptations that beset genteel poverty are bravely withstood ; that the frugal housewife goes herself for such provisions as she can procure in the cheapest market, and, avoiding the too flattering advantages offered by those little red- covered books which local tradesmen issue to customers who find it convenient to pay once a-week or once a- month, retains all the independence conferred by the ready penny, — there is still no little difficulty in keeping even with the world. Political and social economists with adequate in- comes and a banker’s - book, or a few determined people who have escaped from genteel poverty into a more substantial condition, may properly enough expatiate on the duties of putting by for a rainy day, and taking care of the pence, that the pounds may take care of themselves. Nobody can deny the truth of such admirable propositions, any more than they can 104 LABOURS OF LOVE. refute the arguments in favour of life assurance ^ in an established office of well-known security but with hun- dreds and thousands of poor families every day brings its own suggestive shower — the pence are wanted before they have a chance of reaching beyond shillings ; and to say nothing about recent defalcations in public com- panies, the payment of premiums necessary for insuring even a year’s income in the event of the death of the bread-winner often represents, not the retrenchment of superfluous luxuries, but a smaller slice from the family loaf, or a diminution of such necessary accompaniments as serve to make that loaf go farther in feeding the little hungry brood. When that dark day comes, however, that the blinds of the upper room are drawn down, and the serious face of the doctor looks into the pale grief- stricken fece of the wife, and whispers, ‘While there is life there is hope when the little ones huddle together and speak in whispers, wondering if father will ever again go to the City in the morning and come back at night ; when there is a sound of strange feet on the stair after dark, and ‘ the room where the coffin is’ has thenceforth a place in the household memory ; when at last the poor toiler is at rest, and the final effort of genteel poverty is put forth to obtain a respectable funeral, and to go into mourning, — then it is that, as the mother gathers her children about her, and wonders what she is to do for herself and them, the help of a loving hand, the sympathy of a willing heart, is needed most. At first, in the merciful benumbing that follows her great loss. THE FAMILY CRISIS. 105 she cannot think of the immediate future ; but waking from that condition, the sense of her loneliness and weakness comes with half- despairing force : the im- possibility of bringing up all those young creatures within the narrow limits of such a poor home as she can maintain ; the dread of the evil influences that may reach them while she is absent striving to earn their daily food ; the degradation that awaits the boys, left, perhaps, to the temptations of the streets ; the certainty that the elder girls must be sent out as drudges before they have learnt the merest rudiments of what they should be taught ; and the younger chil- dren left amid all the sordid surroundings of a common house, with an open stair, and neighbours who know nothing of the pangs of that sort of poverty that would fain hide itself from the world. It would be well, perhaps, if any institution existed which could knit up those ravelled ties, and keep mother and little ones together ; well, if something could be done for the elder children, and the younger left awhile to the maternal care ; . but it would be difficult to devise a plan for accomplishing this. Meanwhile, let us see what has been accomplished in an institution intended to modify the plan of some older establishments for the reception of infant orphans. Clinging to them with a mother’s love, and fear- ing for them more than for herself, what is the poor widow to do who has three or four babes, the eldest of which requires constant care ? To maintain them and herself in bare necessaries will require all her 106 LABOURS OF LOVE. working hours diligently employed in some calling that must take her from home ; and should there be an elder girl to supply her place, the burden is be- yond a woman’s strength, at the present rate of wages for all ordinary female labour. Day by day, as that strength fails, what are the fears that harass her, lest her children should be left orphans indeed ! In all the aspects of poverty and suffering in the Great City, there are few more touching than that constant necessity for the poor mother to grudge herself the extra portion of food necessary to main- tain her strength, that the supply may not fail alto- gether. For infants who are fatherless, as well as for those who are orphans, however, the great heart of Lon- don has been touched to noble charity ; the latest, and in some respects the most promising, result of which we may witness in a visit to Lilliput Village. Beyond the outskirts of the Great City, where a scat- tered border of new streets and terraces has been flung on the waist of Hornsey-rise, is the neighbourhood of the tiny colony we come to seek. Within a short dis- tance of the omnibus route from Highbury, and scarcely beyond the sounds of the high-road, this district is in transition from a steep breezy hill-side to a large open locality, forming an airy suburb ; the roadways yet heavy with country soil, the pavements breaking abruptly into footpaths, the houses newly finished and at present tenantless, the few shops waiting the arrival THE FRINGE OF LONDON. 107 of expected customers ; everywhere great plots and areas of unoccupied land, either marked out for the builder or already occupied with stacks of bricks and stone, and great balks and piles of timber. A metropolitan trans- formation scene, leading to as quaint, not to say as fan- tastic, an edifice as you could wish to see — a toy mansion amidst a chaos of building materials, with an indefinite region beyond, belonging neither to town nor country. Once within the wide space enclosed with orna- mental railings, you begin to wonder whether this pretty brand-new porch, with its bright red-brick and cut-stone facings, has been actually built on the spot, or w^as brought here, all ready-made, in a neat box with the rest of the building, and put together ready for habita- tion by the little people we have come to see. I called it a mansion just now ; but there are no lofty stories, no high parapets, no suggestions of toilsome stairs by which to get up to bed. The cosy eaves are low enough for tame robins to find shelter beneath them ; in the queer little corners of the masonry familiar sparrows could build their nests, and yet be near enough to look out for stray crumbs from the dining-hall on the ground floor. So strangely suggestive of a piquant interest is the whole place, in spite — perhaps partly in consequence — of ite completeness in the midst of the wilderness around, that even the porter’s lodge, unlike most such places, has a nursery look about it ; and you half expect an answer to your summons by the appearance of some fairy godmother, who will come out with hood and wand to bid you enter, and in the very act transform you 108 LABOURS OF LOVE. to a child again, in accordance with the scene in which yon are to hear a part. Well, in fact there is a fairy godmother, though she is not at this moment on the premises ; one who, like the fabled benefactresses in infant lore, is young and graceful with the best of beauty — not the least of her qualifications for a share in such a work being that she has little infants of her own. Not many years ago all the people of the . Great City went out to welcome her coming ; and it was like her, and like the kindred race from which she sprung, that one of her first public cares should have been for the orphan children of the poor. On the scroll above your head, as you cross the threshold of the pure clean porch at which you stand, you read her name in the title of the institution itself, ^ The Alexandra Orphanage for Infants.’ Mingled with the fanciful ideas that seem to be in accordance with Lilliput Village are some grave and touching reflections ; for most of us know something of the silent sufferings of that genteel poverty which hides its want, and by a hundred small contrivances conceals from the world the misery of its daily life, — of that respectable wretchedness which pays the poor-rate when the cupboard is empty, and looks with a faint wistful fluttering at the lists of contributions towards charities, in the benefits of which it cannot share. We all know^ how the poor fathers of families — clerks, porters, me- chanics, servants, shopmen — go out day by day, and think sometimes of what the end will be when they have gone out once more — have been carried out — A TERKIBLE THOUGHT. 109 never to return ! It is a terrible thought to begin a day’s work with — a thought that nothing but a very living faith in the living God will keep below a frequent agony. That wife, whose very maternity has rendered her less able to bear a part in the rough work of the world; those little children who have just kissed him at the door, and wondered whether he will bring home anything for to-morrow’s dinner, or will find the money for the new shoes that have been promised so long, — what will become of them when the last little hoard is taken to pay the doctor and the undertaker, and the mother is left weeping in the bare room, with only them for treasures, and yet in her awful fear almost wishing that she and they could have gone too ? The shadow of that fear is realised, and the shillings turn to pence, and her labour, so scanty as it must be with these little lives to tend and cherish, barely finds bread. What then ? What if she follows him, and the group of poor stricken lambs are left alone ? What if she starves, and strives, and sickens, and yet, starve and strive as she may, the little pinched faces, and wasted limbs, and eager eyes seem to fade day by day? Shall her children become but a part of that pauper community with which the wards of our workhouses sometimes teem ? Shall they grow up with that sort of inheritance which seems to be perpetual, and so a generation or two of striving, and of such culture as might have made them a national strength instead of a social weakness, "be altogether wasted ? If we can begin with children of this genera- tion, there lies our hope for generations to come. Ees- 110 LABOURS OF LOVE. cue them, and we redeem the great host of men and women who will form the people of a succeeding age. Begin at the beginning. But how ? Let us sit down for a minute while we write our names in the visitors’ book, in this pretty entrance- hall, with its fresh bright fern-case in the window, its spotless hearth and decorated fireplace, its flower-stand, and the other accessories that speak at once of abiding womanly influences. Already one of the authors of these suggestive in- fluences, — Miss Elizabeth Soul, — is waiting to tell us something of the work that has been done during the year in the institution, of which, if she will pardon me for giving her the gentlest title I know, she may be said to be the nursing mother ; for she is here almost daily, is always employed in promoting the interests of the orphanage, and knows every little one who finds a home within its walls. Even as we sit here, the silence is broken by a murmur of sound like the first humming of a sea-shell ; and presently through the closed door there comes the burden of a tune you know quite well. For my part, I am already ‘ nid-nid-nodding’ into a dream of two years ago ; for it was in January 1868 that I first made the acquaintance of this little family. It has grown since then, and Lilliput Village has been founded; but its beginnings were so pleasant, that I should like you to go in fancy back to the original home of these orphans, before they were taken into the cottages that seem to belong to a story-book. IN ' THE GALLEEY.’ Ill You have not far to go even in imagination. It is only to a quiet private house, or rather a pair of private houses, in a pleasant road in the pleasant district of Holloway. The omnibus will put us down almost at the door. A quiet house and a quite neighbourhood — a house, though, with a large allowance of bedrooms, each of which has quite a row of little iron cribs, some of them looking almost like dolls’ bedsteads, covered with their clean white counterpanes. Follow the well- known nursery example of the celebrated Goosey-gander, and wander upstairs and downstairs, and you will still see these tiny sleeping-places, until you get by accident into the parlour, where you should have gone at first to write your name in the visitors’ book. Even that isn’t ^ my lady’s chamber ;’ for ‘ my lady,’ represented by the matron, is like another lady, also of nursery fame (though she is a good deal younger in her experience), and has so many children that, though she thoroughly well knows what to do, she may be said to ‘live in a shoe,’ so con- stantly has she to be on foot, assisted by an equally assiduous teacher, to look after her little charges. If you will come into the kitchen, however, where the dinner is just now preparing, you may have ocular as well as olfactory demonstration that the discipline here does not include ‘broth without any bread;’ for the long tables, with their white napery, their queer little high chairs, and tiny bone spoons and forks, are somehow suggestive of a good deal of nourishing farinaceous food. The children are at present in ‘ the gallery ;’ and if you want to know what that is, you must come and see. 112 LABOURS OF LOVE. There they are, nearly half a hundred of them, on that broad flight of steps which in infant-schools is always called the gallery. Forty-five little ones, whose angels do continually stand before the Father, are now standing before you : the eldest not quite eight, the youngest a little tot of perhaps two years old. Fifty future men and women, taken from who knows what of misery, want, and shame, to be sent upon a new and hopeful career, blessing, let us hope, and to be blessed. The Alexandra Orphanage for Infants. These little creatures have a sweet godmother. Her tender royal face is up there on the wall ; and now that she has children of her own, she may well think sometimes of these. For these are children, and there is great com- fort in that : I mean, they are not poor little depressed men and women, under the rigid rule which will dwarf a child^s soul and crush its heart. See, some of them have got hold of your hand already ; and those behind (such little chaps, that you hardly know girls from boys) are eager to clasp each a finger, and cry out ^ Me ! me !’ to secure their share of petting. Will you hear them sing ? They can sing, mind you ! Off they go to the old tune, and are ^ all nodding, nid-nid-nod- ding,’ — gracious, how they put their heads into it ! — or are 'all sleeping,’ or 'digging,’ or 'sawing,’ or 'sewing,’ or anything and everything you please, till the back rows troop out into the playroom, and half-a-dozen ripe scholars, including a young lady of seven and a philo- sopher of five and a half, remain. Will you ask them one or two simple questions ? A little object-lesson, WAITING FOR A HOME. 113 say. Well, I quite agree with you, don’t ! It is not always easy to appear as though you knew the differ- ence, say, between leather and prunella. Let them write their names, do a little sum in simple addition, repeat one or two of the little poems that they learn voluntarily out of the Infant's Magazine, Chatterbox, or the Children's Fiiencl, and then let them go. Come, Master Charles and Master William Butler — twins out of six little ones entirely dependent, and whose father followed an artistic business — let us hear you ; though which is Charles and which William sorely puzzles even the matron sometimes. Come, Master Philip Henry Selby, aged six, you can write your own name better than many a member of parliament. Come, Master Tommy, leave off drawing a caricature of me on your slate, and let us hear you spell. There’s no cramming here. I don’t mean in regard to space, but with respect to learning ; they are none of them infant precocities, thank goodness ! But why only fifty ? Ah, why indeed ! Do you see that great space over yonder, with a new building slowly growing into a ground-plan — 0, so slowly ? When that building is finished, entirely com- pleted, four hundred infants may find a home there. And so, waking up again, we find that /o^^.r hundred — no, at present only tiro hundred have found a home; for we are sitting in that building still waiting for com- pletion, but yet complete as far as it has gone, and ready, whenever funds shall be given for the purpose, to receive the rest of the toy cottages that are now in the closed box of the future waiting to be set up. I 114 LABOUKS OF LOVE. It was in 1864 that some of the most earnest sup- porters of the Orphan Working School at Haver stock- hill determined to make an effort to establish another orphanage for infants of tender years in connection with that admirable charity. The fact of the Orphan School itself being an incorporated institution prevented any amalgamation of the two efforts without a correspond- ing alteration in the act of parliament ; so that they remain distinct, if not entirely separate, the inmates of the Infant Orphanage having no direct claim to be drafted thence to the Working School when they have reached the age at which they are fit candidates for the latter. They must be voted for, and can only be ac- cepted on the same terms as other children ; but at the same time the two institutions have a definite connec- tion, inasmuch as they are supported by those who are concerned for the welfare of both ; and Mr. Joseph Soul, who is the experienced secretary of the older charity, at once undertook to render his valuable and energetic aid as honorary secretary for the establishment and support of the other. In my own opinion, this connection without absolute identity is a happy feature of these linked charities ; since, while the candidates from among the infants have no undue preponderance in the elections to the Working School, they are eligible for other similar institutions, after having been received from babyhood, and nursed, clothed, and educated in such a way as to make them fitting recipients of that further care of which they stand in need when they reach the age of eight years. A CONSTITUTION. 115 When once the scheme was adopted, the liberality of one of the life-governors of the parent institution enabled the new committee to commence their labour of love. They plainly stated at the outset that the Infant Orphanage was not intended to be a rival to any other charity, and that it was not likely in any way to in- terfere with the funds of the older establishment ; but rather to help on its progress, by the occasional intro- duction of a well-trained class of young orphan children upon its foundation, who would not otherwise gain ad- mission. The constitution of this excellent charity is short, and to the purpose : 1. It is intended to receive orphan children from ear- liest infancy to the age of five years ; and to board, clothe, and educate them until they are eight years of age. 2. The object and design of the founders being that its benefits shall be extended to all necessitous infants, it is to be distinctly regarded as of the very essence of the charity, that at the present time, and in all future times, no religious distinction of any sort shall be in- troduced, either as a qualification for admission or after admission ; and that, while it is fully intended that the children shall have a scriptural education, no denomina- tional catechism whatever shall be adopted. 3. That all the accounts of the Orphanage be open to the inspection of all subscribers. Under these conditions, then, the work was com- menced at the house in the Albert-road, Holloway, 116 LABOURS OF LOVE. until a more suitable building could be provided for a family so rapidly increasing, that in 1868 there were ten infants living with their friends, and ten more at Mar- gate, for want of space for a larger number than the forty-six little ones who formed the domestic circle at the institution. But by that time the building we have come to visit was nearly completed, as far as it has at present gone. That is to say, these four out of the eight connected houses which are ultimately to enclose this area at Hornsey-rise were erected ; and, as you will presently see, each of these buildings represents two ^ cottages,’ one on the upper and one on the lower story, with a bright, cheerful, and ample playroom and nur- sery to each, as well as its well-ordered dormitories for the twenty-five children who form each group or family; the great airy schoolroom, which is also the common dining-hall of Lilliput Village, and the play- ground, with its covered causeway extending round the half quadrangle, being the places of general assembly. The advantages of this cottage system are so obvious, and the result of thus dividing the Lilliputian common- wealth into families consisting of babies not yet parted from the bottle, and sturdy fellows who can handle a knife and fork with consummate dexterity, are already so apparent, that, if for this reason alone, the Alexandra Orphanage is an institution claiming particular notice. Contributions for the cottages now completed were forthcoming from various sources ; two of them having been erected in memoinmn, as their names will indicate, and the rest by public subscription. Upwards of 5,000i. TOYS AND PRESENTS. 117 was contributed for this purpose, and a sum of 1,000L was given by one friend to the charity towards the cost of the central building. The same gentleman promised an additional 500L, if 5^0001. could be raised for the Orphanage before March of the present year : a stimulus which it may be hoped will be successful, since there are now one hundred orphan children in the eight cot- tages, and the building of the eight others that must soon be required stands still for want of funds. One of the pleasantest suggestions contained in the report of Lilliput Village is the hearty manner in which all sorts of people have come forward in recognition of the children’s claims ; and have quite entered into the spirit of this infant colony, by setting it up with useful toys as well as other articles necessary for the comfort of such a community. Thus we hear that all those illu- minated texts, and the bright-coloured prints which in their neat Oxford frames adorn the dormitories and the playrooms, have been presents from the Religious Tract Society, the Christian Knowledge Society, and from our old friend the Illustrated London Neivs. The British and Foreign Bible Society send a good stock of strong Bibles for the use of the nurses and servants ; and the Home and Colonial School Society make a handsome present of materials for teaching the tiny students. Surely the present of five eight-day clocks is a valuable one, and it is refreshing to learn that one of them came from the scholars of a Sunday school, who, as a delicate supplementary attention, also forwarded a baby-jumper. Two nursery-cars, and as rampant a rocking-horse as 118 LABOURS OF LOVE. ever needed a new bridle to restrain his mettlesome paces, are among the appropriate gifts ; and one which deserves special mention must surely be a real delight to the little people — an aviary stocked with singing and other birds. Then there were packets of seeds, and stocks of ferns and plants for the garden, all sent to give these young horticulturists a fair start ; and finally — strangest gift of all, by a gentleman who surely must have had a sudden impulse of giving — a whole house of Brobdingnag furniture ; a great part of which, being in- applicable to the requirements of Lilliput Village, was sold, and the money made good use of ; while the re- mainder went to the central building, where it still remains for the use of the establishment in the com- mittee-room, and some other apartments devoted to children of larger growth. For remember none but children can be admitted here with any hope of receiving benefit ; and so, pray drop all your grown-uppishness at the door, give a finger to this tiny little tot who is waiting to be your guide, and let her lead you into school. Such a large lofty room with such a high roof, that you cease to wonder that when they were ^ all nodding' the sleepy hum seemed to lose itself in space, and come back from distant echoes. Ample room for twice as many children, and designed for that number. How the hundred are pegging away, to be sure ; reading, writing, and arithmetic, plain sewing, vocal music, spelling, and every now and then marching and counter-marching, in columns of such very literal infantry, that you wonder A VARIETY OF STUDIES. 119 how the little feet can make so sturdy a stamping on the bare clean floor. Here at a long desk, busy with their copy-books, and very neatly and creditably busy too, are Philip Henry, one of five, whose father was a messenger in the House of Lords ; and the twin brothers, who are much less alike than they were on our first acquaintance two years ago ; and Agnes, one of seven — daughter of a boat- builder ; and others, orphans of clerks, assistants, small tradesmen, artisans, — representatives of that sort of poverty which most needs our sympathy when the struggle to hide it can no longer be maintained, and the widow and orphan are left desolate. Yonder, on the steps of that raised platform, the same governess presides over the arithmetical tables — addition, subtraction, multiplication, and general in- telligence ; and here, on our left, is a tiny assembly, one detachment of which is standing before a Lilliputian easel, whereon a big card, like a leaf from a pantomime spelling-book, presents to their wide-open eyes words of one syllable. One of the funniest and yet pleasantest sights in the room is to see at another and similar easel a mere dot of some seven years old performing the office of teacher to a class, some in which (and notably one great girl who has been at Margate for her health, and so has lost her education) are bigger than herself. Back again to the estrade, where the multiplication- table is just about to be varied by a song and a little gymnastic exercise, performed in concert with surpris- ing regularity. 120 LABOURS OF LOVE. Would you like to examine them? Well, the diffi- culty is to find questions ; but having found a few, and got over your natural shyness as a big baby coming there for the first time, you will find that they are ready enough to answer you, and to answer correctly too. I cannot help observing here, and the remark will apply to other similar institutions, that the infant-school instruction would be improved if it went still farther in the direction of that plan of teaching known as the Kinder-Garten system; where object-lessons not only formed part of the daily instruction, but were associated with the rest of the work as regular means of tuition. The governess would be competent to introduce it after very little attention, and the pleasure of Lilliput Village during school-hours would be greatly increased by that method. Not that the budding scholars are oppressed with the severe or monotonous course of study; on the contrary, a whole class, averaging two to five years old, leaves off its lesson to laugh at me when I sit down on a low form and try to make its acquaintance ; while as regards the attainments in the Lilliputian College, the report of the Eev. Mr. Fleming, Vicar of Crouch End, says truly enough of the first four classes, embracing -children from three to eight years of age : ^ Their general and intelligent knowledge of the Bible is most remarkable. Portions were accurately repeated, texts quoted, and good explanations given — showing that the children are taught God’s word morally as well as mentally. BEADING WITHOUT TEABS. 121 ‘ The reading is good. The upper children have mastered their difficulties, and the rest are all fairly advanced. The copy-books shown to me were clean and promising. I tested the first class on their slates, and the writing from dictation was excellent, both in execu- tion and spelling. An examination in mental arith- metic was conducted by the teacher at my request, and quick and accurate answers were given as far as the multiplication -table. Needlework for the girls, and lessons on objects and general information, form part of the regular course of education. ‘ The whole tone of the^ school is most gratifying — the children clean, bright, and happy — under discipline, but without constraint, and manifesting a confidence in their teachers which strikes a visitor at once.’ To the last paragraph we will add our hearty con- currence, for here we are, going out of school; and walking round to visit the nurseries, come upon detachments of our young friends racing under the covered causeway, driving hoops across the open space left for a play- ground, and besieging the passages and doorways with a vigour and zest that is immeasurably delightful. It was a thoughtless act to take up that rather delicate-look- ing little fellow, and raise him in your arms, for in a moment you are hemmed in by a struggling assembly of candidates for ' a jump.’ Fingers, skirts, coat-tails, are likely to suffer, unless you compromise the matter, and amidst shrill laughing cries, treat each one to a de- finite proportion of romping exercise before you send them trooping off, or select some of their number to 122 LABOUKS OF LOVE. display the paces of the rocking-horse and the natural history of the Noah’s ark. In the infant dormitories — not long hare wards, with a hundred beds all of the same pattern, but bed- rooms, each with its seven sleepers, under the care of a nurse, who at night occupies a glazed enclosure, from which she can see all that is going on, and hear the first wail of distress from a tiny crib — the babies are most of them staring broad awake. Two or three soft peachy cheeks rest on the white pillows quite quietly, while some lively little creatures are making strenuous but still silent efforts to get up and look about them. It is evident that the morning sleep is nearly over, however; and the busy little feet on the stairs and landings outside, as well as certain preparations at the Lilliputian tables (no higher than ordinary stools, which are reserved in the nurseries for the tiny ban- queters who are too young to sit in the common hall), proclaim the approach of dinner-time. Down in the great kitchen still farther indications reach us in the odour of mutton, and the faint but pleasing smell of rice-pudding. The big range is in full work ; the cook is already busy with dishes and spoons ; the four-score dolls’ knives and three-pronged metal forks are glistening in their tray; the batch of aerated bread in the next store-room has already been prepared, and lies in convenient chunks in the baskets in which it is to be conveyed upstairs. Let us go up and listen to the patter of those little feet, to the scurry and clamour of the hungry trenchermen and trencher- THE CHILDKEN’S GRACE. 123 women, who file in and take their places at the long tables, that were only just now desks, in the banqueting- hall, that will soon be a schoolroom again, till the even- ing bread-and-milk is served before bed-time. Hush ! how quiet they all are ! how their little clear voices ring out that grace before meat ! ^ Amen, amen !’ and so, to a clatter of plates and the sounds of good cheer, let us go our way with thankful hearts, inasmuch as to have done thus by these little ones is to have done it unto Him. On Wednesdays, between half-past two and half-past four, the children may be visited by their friends on pre- sentation of the visiting-card, with which they are pro- vided ; but it is not expected that children over four years of age will be visited oftener than once a month, unless they are seriously ill, when there is no restric- tion of this kind, and their friends may come at any reasonable time on showing the matron’s letter. Children under seven years old can only visit their friends in cases of serious illness, and on the produc- tion of a medical certificate stating that the disease is not contagious or infectious. It will be obvious that these rules are necessary in such an establishment ; and they, as well as the regulations about election and the claims of candidates, have evidently been framed after due consideration and long experience. Such experience could alone have enabled the com- mittee of management to support the institution with an economy which, although it provides liberally for the little creatures under its care, brings the housekeeping expenditure — including clothing, linen, and furniture 124 LABOURS OF LOVE. for the house; coals, gas, salaries of matron, teachers, and servants; rates, taxes, school requisites, &c. — to less than 13L a-year for each child. If we would learn where this economy and the ex- perience which renders it effectual has been acquired, we must pay a visit first to the offices at 73 Cheapside and then to the parent institution, where 270 orphan boys and 130 orphan girls, between seven and fourteen years of age, are maintained in The Hive at Haverstock-hill. To go back to the beginning, then : A hundred and twelve years ago — But stay for a moment to think what this means. It means the lives of two generations of men and women ; it means the time when not even George III., but George II., was king; the time when Louis XV. was yet keeping that throne the steps of which led his successor to a scaffold ; the time when the Napoleonic dynasty was not even thought of, and the terrible vengeance which burst into fiery revolution was only smouldering, so that its threatening smoke scarcely disturbed the gay Court which wondered at the warnings of Eousseau and Voltaire. John Wesley had but just founded the completest Church which existed unconnected with any establishment ; Dr. Johnson had just finished his dictionary, and was writing Rasselas, in order to obtain money to pay for his mother’s funeral; and Boswell had not yet appeared upon the scene. Hogarth was cogitating his Analysis of Beauty ; the A BACKWARD GLANCE. 125 treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle was about to be signed ; and good old Thomas Coram was busy with the ^ Foundling Hospital.’ For a hundred and twelve years ago has become to us a part of those ^ good old times’ about which some people are perpetually muttering their regrets, as though anybody really believed that those times were better, any more than they were older, than these ; the world has made progress in a century and an eighth ; and where the Foundling Hospital, small as was its foundation, represented a vast improvement in the charity of London, we have now fifty institutions devoted to the relief of almost every form of distress and suffering. It would be presumptuous to say that we are more tender-hearted or more charitable than our grandfathers were ; it is only common gratitude to acknowledge that we are surrounded by greater con- veniences, increased comforts, multiplied luxuries, and that the decade that has passed has changed the face of social life, and raised all classes but the very lowest. Such of the benevolent institutions as were founded when George II. was king have had to extend their influences, to enlarge their borders beyond ancient landmarks, and to seek the wider aid that is seldom asked in vain for any cause which appeals on good grounds to voluntary beneficence. The institutions have adopted modern fashions — even the ^muffin-cap and the badge so garish’ of the parochial schoolboy have become objects for museums; and it is only in one or two instances (say Christ’s Hospital, for example) that 126 LABOURS OF LOVE. the costumes of the past age are deemed essential for preserving the distinctive character of the foundation. After such a parenthesis it is almost necessary to return to our starting-point, and repeat that a hundred and twelve years ago there was established at Hoxton a school for forty orphan children — that is to say, for twenty boys and twenty girls. Such an event would be of no very great public importance to-day, or rather let us say that, however immeasurable such an event might be in its results, it would not be so uncommon as to excite any peculiar interest. In 1758, however, there were fewer provisions for the poor and destitute; so that when on the 10th of May in that year fourteen gentlemen met at the George Inn, Ironmonger-lane, for the purpose of founding an asylum for poor orphans, it was the first institution of a general character esta- blished in England for that purpose. Bless their fourteen powdered periwigs ! how so- lemnly they must have wagged over their rummers and tankards as they sat in serious conclave in the room at the ^George,’ and ^agreed that there was a sufficient subscription for carrying the scheme into execution’ ! This is the entry in the earliest minute-book of the charity, which goes on to say that they appointed a treasurer, formed a committee, and desired the com- mittee to assist the treasurer in collecting the money. It only needs a peep into these old minute-books • and records of the earlier days of the charity to impress one with the solemn seriousness of the whole matter. Such penmanship, such grave performances in cali- OLD-WORLD SOLEMNITY. 127 graphy — stiff flourishes, elaborate signatures, and en- grossed memoranda ! The first secretaries were mostly in the legal profession, and that in days when the open- ing of a new business-ledger involved a kind of preface of a pious character, and with something of the formula of a last will and testament. These observances have fallen into disuse ; but it may be doubted whether we do not go to the opposite extreme. They often gave a real weight and dignity to certain important occasions, marking various epochs in a man’s life, or even in the business life of a mercantile firm. However this may be, the books of the ^ Orphan Working School,’ a century ago, are among the curiosities of bygone scrivening. The institution was commenced by the occupation of a house in what at that time was the suburban ex- tension of Shoreditch, known as Hogsden or Hoxton ; and as the operations of the charity extended, two more adjoining houses were rented. Here the number of orphan children increased year by year until 1775, so that, at the end of the seventeen years, 165 inmates were received. It was doubtless a very useful, and for the age an orderly and kindly-conducted, asylum; but from what we may gather by references to the history of the place and the regulations in force, the picture of child-life there would ill-represent the more advanced views of our own day. Over all there seems to hang the gloom of threatening, or at all events of repression, which mark the strict and unyielding manner in which the founders regarded the duties to be exacted from their 128 LABOURS OF LOVE. little charges. It was in fact, as well as in name, a Svorking scliiol;’ and work in those days meant real manual labour for a good many hours every day, only relieved by occasional strictly-guarded recreations, by a little instruction in reading, by devotional exercises, or by the hours when plain and not too tempting food was served in a plain and by no means too tempting way. It may have been from an impression that none but civic dignitaries, capitalists, and those engaged in high commercial pursuits, would avoid discovering in figures a means of undue exaltation ; or there may have been a lingering jealousy lest the orphans living on charity should be fitted to take the place of ‘ their betters but from whatever cause it proceeded, there was for a long time such an aversion to teaching arithmetic in the school, that for ten years it was altogether unknown, except by occasional reports that reached the inmates from outside — that there was a science of numbers ex- tending beyond counting on the ten fingers. Some of the children who had heard that ^ summing’ was taught in other schools, along with reading and writing, actually petitioned to be instructed ; and a few of the governors, who had much opposition to encounter, at length suc- ceeded in passing a resolution that a committee he ap- pointed to consider the question. The committee met, gravely to discuss this difficult subject; and the result of their deliberations was a recommendation that arithmetic should he taught as far as addition. There was little time in those long weary working THE ^ LYAR’s’ punishment. 129 days to devote to instruction ; the object of the school was work; and work they did, at making garden nets, list carpets, list shoes, and such monotonous and hum- ble labour. It must be remembered, however, that in those days ^ the three Es’ were above the reach of the labouring classes ; and to have taught these little crea- tures to read, write, and cipher would have been con- sidered a kind of interference with the designs of Pro- vidence in the government of the world, and the main- tenance of distinctions intended to establish ^ reverence for superiors.’ The moral training of the children was to some extent darkened by the same distrust and severity; but, to the honour of the founders, there seems to have been more tenderness, or at least less harshness and positive cruelty, than appears to have belonged to many other institutions. There was little corporal punishment, except in rather extreme cases of disobedience and ob- stinacy, which, if often repeated, must, like lying and swearing, be punished with public whipping. Under ordinary circumstances, if a child told a lie, he was to stand with his face to the wall at meal-time, have a paper pinned to his back with the word ^ lyar’ written on it, and when penitent, was to say in the presence of all the children, ^ I have sinned in telling a lie. I will take more care. I hope God will forgive me.’ The religious observances were scripture-reading and prayer every night and morning, and secret prayer was to be encouraged. Kemembering that these first foun- ders lived in a different period — that a century is in some K 130 LABOURS OF LOVE. respects a great age in the swift progress of modern thought and enterprise, and that nearly all the public institutions of that day were associated with legal enact- ments and repressive regulations — we may look back at the Orphan Working School as the pioneer of those ad- mirable institutions for the nurture and training of bereaved children, which are among the foremost of our Labours of Love. In 1775 it became necessary to obtain more ex- tended house-room ; and as funds had been accumu- lated for this purpose, a new school was erected in the City-road for the reception of seventy inmates. From that time the progress of the charity to a less restricted method of dealing with the children under its charge was slow, but definite, and in accordance with the improved views that obtained on the question of education. Those who succeeded the original founders were in favour of a more liberal and enlightened effort ; still, in the earlier years of the school in the City-road, there was only a limited acceptance of those resolutions which were from time to time proposed by the more advanced friends of the charity ; later in its history it came under the influence of modern thought and educa- tion, and was none the less certain in its operation because of its having been a progressive institution. During the seventy-two years (from 1775 to 1847) that it remained in the City-road, it had received, main- tained, and educated 1,124 orphans at the most cri- tical period of childhood; and then it had for some time become necessary once more to extend their hahi- ON THE SLOPE OF HAVEESTOCK-HILL. 131 tation. By that time the premises and surrounding property (which belonged to the charity) in the City- road had become more valuable, because of the greater population of the neighbourhood (another reason for removing) ; and as the leases of part of that property were soon likely to tall in, it was determined to pur- chase a plot of freehold land in the healthy suburb of Haver stock-hill, then offered on very favourable terms. The present able and judicious secretary was even so long ago connected with the institution, and entered with the utmost spirit into the new undertaking ; which made a fresh era in the history not of this establish- ment alone, hut of similar charities, among which it occupies a foremost position. First, 240, and now that the building is enlarged, above 400 children represent the growth of that benevo- lent enterprise commenced at the George Inn, Ironmon- ger-lane. The building itself is palatial in its architec- tural proportions no less than in its size, and occupies a space of rising ground in one of the most salubrious and convenient of the suburbs of the Great City, amid houses of the better class. Once out of the train that takes you to Chalk Farm, and it is but a hop, step, and jump to that pretty quiet neighbourhood of Maitland-park, on the first slope of Haver stock-hill. There, on your left, at that big mansion with its great entrance and a modest wing, where a more unassuming doorway serves for un- official visits, the work of the orphans’ hive is going on. Not the work of net-making and the manufacture of felt shoes ; hut nobler, better, higher employment. 132 LABOURS OF LOVE. The old narrow prejudices have given place to the air and light of our more liberal instruction; and though it is not professed to teach what are generally called accomplishments in the school, the very best educa- tional books are employed there, and the attainments of the children are of a very thorough character. The course of instruction includes a thorough English educa- tion, with history, geography, and, for the boys, mathe- matics as far as they can be taken during their stay in the school ; together with some general information in the elements of physical science, and very effectual in- struction in drawing. Yocal music is also taught in the school, and a class for French is about to be com- menced. Any one who has examined the books and exercises of the children, both boys and girls, will at once perceive how carefully and thoroughly they are taught. The writing is the best I have ever seen in any school ; and as much of it is actually that in the ordinary exercise-books, used for dictation lessons, there is good opportunity for judging. The handwriting of some of the girls is so admirable, that it may help to bring about a better style of caligraphy than that which now disgraces fashionable life ; and in general solid attainments, especially in history, geography, spelling, reading (that is to say, intelligent declamation of a reading-lesson), they are far above the ordinary average, and reflect great credit on the governess, who is as- sisted by pupil-teachers, one or two of whom have been scholars, and voluntarily remain in the institution in their new capacity, and with very considerable success. CREDITABLE PROFICIENCY. 133 To those who wish to know what is done for the children in the way of instruction, it is only necessary to refer to the reports of the examining inspectors of .schools, and especially to that of the British and Foreign School Society’s inspector issued above a year ago : ‘ Every subject has received attention ; and the papers on history, geography, and English grammar show fair proficiency. It is evident, however, that the teachers have laid more stress on good reading, writing, spelling, ciphering, and the Holy Scriptures ; and their efforts to lay a good foundation in these essential sub- jects have been most successful. The arithmetic of the first class in the hoys’ school is really excellent. In the girls’ school, as might be expected, it is not so far advanced, but it is thoroughly good as far as it goes. Their papers, however, on Scripture history are models of neatness, accuracy, and fulness, and reflect the utmost credit on their excellent teachers. I must not omit to mention that the needlework is really beautiful, and could scarcely be excelled. On the whole, I am happy to be able to congratulate the committee on the state of the institution. They have secured a staff of earnest and efficient teachers, under whom the children are receiving an education and moral training which, by God’s blessing, will fit them to fill, creditably and happily, whatever station they may hereafter be called to occupy.’ In elementary drawing, too, the boys have carried off the palm in competition with other schools; and have made such progress in twelve months, that they 134 LABOURS OF LOVE. have received seventy-one prizes from South Kensing- ton for drawings made in the presence of three mem- bers of the committee, and therefore the undoubted work of the lads themselves. Let it not he supposed, however, that it is not a work- ing school in a very literal sense ; for, intended as they are for fulfilling useful places in the world, the girls are trained in domestic employments, and a number of them in succession are taken into the house to perform the duties of servants. In needlework, too, there is enough to do to employ a large portion of their time ; and dur- ing the last year above 50,000 makings, markings, and mendings have been effected, including the manufacture of 448 collars, 293 sheets, 159 shirts, 40 counterpanes, 522 handkerchiefs, 9 table-cloths, 18 pudding-cloths, and many other articles in the matron’s department ; and in the school itself 1,096 articles of clothing were made, 17,012 repaired, 150 frocks made, 130 bonnets trimmed, and 18,712 stockings mended. In the girls’ schoolroom, divided into large class- rooms, as well as in the fine room where the boys assemble, the work of this hive is going on with the happiest results, and with a complete harmony among the various teachers and the alert and experienced matron, whose talent for organisation, true womanly kindness, and considerable medical experience, render her especially suitable for such a charge; just as her bright genial temper and — if she will pardon an ap- parent want of courtesy — ‘ wide-awake-ativeness’ infuse a certain healthy life and spirit into the domestic HEALTHY LIFE AND SPIRIT. 135 arrangements, that are among the best characteristics of this large family. And this is indeed the especial feature of the establishment, wherein it happily differs from many institutions, where the large scale on which operations are conducted seems almost to overwhelm any sense of family union, or even of domestic comfort. There is a brightness, a confidence, a frank, hut by no means dis- respectful, familiarity between pupils and teachers ; a general freedom which is too real to be disorderly ; a regularity and completeness of cooperation which is maintained not as a task, hut because it is a part of the general reputation of the whole establishment, — that cannot fail to strike the observer with a pleasant wonder. This is the more noticeable, inasmuch as the institution avails itself of all the modern appliances that are almost indispensable in such large buildings, and goes even farther in this direction than many others, much to the health and comfort of the inmates. Attached to each wing — that of the girls as well as that of the hoys— is a plunge-bath, also large enough for a swimming-bath, plentifully supplied with warm and tepid water in winter, and surrounded with little dressing-closets, in which, on the girls’ side, are the regulation bathing-dresses. This is only part of the careful provision for cleanliness, which is also exhibited in the foot-troughs supplied with warm water running across the lavatories; and the long rows of sunk basins, towels, and brush-bags, which are in use three or four times a-day. 136 LABOURS OF LOVE. In the ample kitchen the great cooking-apparatus is in full work to supply the dinner of meat and vegetables that will he served presently, and to hake the pies and puddings which either follow or accompany them on two or three days a-week. Through this kitchen to the serving-room, and thence to the great dining-hall — with its fine painting let into the ceiling, its long clean tables with healthy-looking rosy faces on either side — the great dishes are carried, there to be carved by the maids, and served by the detachment of boys and girls appointed to wait upon the rest. How ^ beefsteaks-in- batter’ disappear, and fresh dishes have to be brought up, and second serves are promptly supplied, there is no need to tell ; there is something appetising in the sight, as we stand in the little gallery leading to the chapel and look down at this charge of the 400. The chapel itself, with its chamber-organ presented by a friend to the institution, is not a consecrated part of the building ; hut it is none the less sacred for that, perhaps ; for in it the teachings from the Word of God are made to aid in that living worship which the reli- gious instruction is intended to inculcate. In the old institution, beside the morning and evening Scripture and prayer, the practice of personal devotion was encouraged ; and here in the great dormi- tories, one of them 130 feet long and 54 wide, the orphan occupants of those long rows of neat beds kneel down to ask for the protection of their heavenly Father before they sleep. No chapel could have a better consecration than that, I think ; and could we see those 400 little THE VALUE OF CHEERFULNESS. 137 ones rising from their knees, and each one waiting motionless till all have risen, we ought to feel a swell- ing of the heart that no solemn cathedral service could serve to make more genuine as a symptom of deep human interest. We have seen the kitchen and the schoolrooms; let us cross the wide spacious playground on the girls’ side (the hoys have their own, with room for football and other glorious games) on our way to the laundry. Here, too, the appliances of modern invention are in full use ; but note the homely washing-tubs and troughs of com- mon domestic life, each with its little pupil in the ordinary act of firsting, seconding, rinsing, blueing- down ; note also the humble accessories, in the shape of ironing - boards and blankets, adapted to juvenile beginners, and you will begin to see how it is that this institution exhibits such remarkable family features ; how it is that, with the maintenance of so high a stan- dard of physical health, the comfortable rooms at the top of the building, reserved as infirmary wards, are generally only occupied by one or two patients with slight ailments; — there is also an absence of that dull listlessness, that want of individuality and cheerful relation to all surrounding things, which are too often apparent in large charitable establishments. The average continuance of a child in the school is five years. Children qualified for admission may become candidates for election after their seventh birthday. The boys remain till they are fourteen, or sometimes a little longer if they are well conducted, and are placed 138 LABOURS OF LOVE. out in situations or as apprentices, with an outfit of the value of 51, The girls, all of whom are trained for domestic service, remain till they are fifteen or sixteen ; and when a situation is found for one of them, she has an outfit of the value of 3Z. Some of them enter situ- ations in shops or warehouses ; and a few, but not many, become pupil - teachers in schools. By one of the rules it is enacted : ^ That in providing situations for the girls, a preference be given to families where another female servant is kept ; that they be not placed in boarding-houses, in academies for boys, nor in the service of single men ; in case of apprenticeship, the term shall not exceed the completion of their 19th year; and that they he j)resented, on leaving the in- stitution, with a Bible and the sum of 3L Ss., unless the Ladies’ Committee think an outfit of clothing most suitable.’ In the case of girls, as well as boys, an annual reward is given to each former scholar whose employer shall testify to his or her good conduct during the year; and these annual rewards are continued for seven years, commencing with 5s. for the first year, and ending with 11. Is. in the seventh ; so that the paternal character of the institution is maintained as far as possible. Indeed, many of the former scholars, who have been apprenticed or placed in situations by the charity, have become suc- cessful men, and are now governors of the institution. A creditable distinction — shared alike by the Orphan Working School at Haverstock-hill and another admir- able and similar institution, the London Orphan Asylum A CREDITABLE DISTINCTION. 189 at Clapton — is the simple and perfectly distinct manner in which the accounts are published ; showing not only the detailed balance-sheet of receipts, and ordinary as well as extraordinary expenditure, but also a clear and most useful analysis, from which can be seen at a glance, and in two brief tabulated forms, the total annual ex- penditure for each child for twelve years — the expenditure per head for each item, such as provisions, fuel, and washing, clothing, salaries and wages, sundry charges, and repairs — and the total cost, as well as that per head, in each year, of bread and flour, meat, butter and cheese, vegetables, milk, soap, gas, coals, &c. With respect to these accounts, which drew forth a eulogium from the Times, the report says : ^ The great desire and aim of the committee is to deserve all the kind things said of their economical management, and of the success which has attended their efforts to make the school what it was intended to he — a lasting benefit to the children. In the Times there appeared, a short time ago, a remarkable state- ment in relation to the receipts and expenditure of the London charities ; and there was an especial reference to the accounts of the Orphan Working School, in re- spect to the simple and admirable manner in which they are annually presented to the governors. It is but fair to state, and the secretary has much pleasure in doing so, that he was indebted to the London Orphan Asylum for this improved statement ; he has only imi- tated what was so admirably set before him in the ac- counts of that asylum. He mentioned that fact in a 140 LABOURS OF LOVE. letter he sent to the Times, which, for some reason, was not inserted. By the statement referred to, it is seen that the cost per child in 1868, including all charges except the repairs of the building, amounted to only 20L 17^. ll-^d., or eight shillings per week.’ It must he recorded of this institution, that it pro- ceeds on the just and liberal plan of spending all the money subscribed or contributed for the object of ex- tending the benefits conferred, and does not recognise the propriety or even the expediency of forming a fund for endowment, or for acquiring property by means of money intended for the immediate relief of cases that appeal for aid and claim a direct interest in the income derived from appeals to public benevolence. When the old property in the City-road was let on lease, the money derived from it was devoted to carrying on the work of the new institution, and the interest of some legacies that have been so left to the orphanage as to make them resemble endowments is expended in the same way; hut these sources represent no more than one -fifth of its present annual income. With this information, and a parting reminder — in reference to the pure cool air that is blowing in our faces as we turn once more into the surrounding grounds of the orphanage — that only four children *died during the year, and two of these of constitutional diseases not to he prevented or cured by medical aid, we will take our leave. The pages of the report, and a careful exa- mination of the long list of names and trades or occu- pations of those whose orphan children have been re ENEKGY OF DE. ANDEEW EEED. 141 ceived, will show that it is for the help of the fatherless and destitute children of the lower-middle and working classes that this admirable charity is supported. Clapton to Watfoed. The London Orphan Asylum at Clapton, to which I have already referred, offers only a slight difference in its provisions from those of the Working School ; but that difference is suggestive, since it is partially asso- ciated with a slightly superior grade of genteel poverty. This valuable charity, which has now reached the fifty-seventh year since its establishment, was founded by the exertions of Dr. Andrew Eeed, whose active energy was instrumental in promoting so many works of mercy in the metropolis. His portrait, with those of some other early patrons of the institution, still occupies a place in the board-room ; and now that there are 440 children in the great building which is so soon to be abandoned for a still larger establishment, the friends of the asylum may well feel satisfaction at the work that has been performed since the year 1813, when it commenced by receiving six little orphan girls. During the period of its existence, the London Or- phan Asylum has provided for 3,292 children; and now that it has become necessary to extend its provisions beyond the limits afforded by the building at Clapton, it is in need of still farther effort. As it is, the asylum is scarcely adapted in all its details for the residence of so large a number ; and be- 142 LABOUKS OF LOVE. side the difficulty of separating the elder and younger children, many of the appliances are defective, especially some of those that have an immediate relation to the lavatories and other arrangements essential to so nume- rous a family. The great disadvantage of most such institutions is the frequent necessity of massing so many children in one building ; and though the asylum at Clapton is divided into two wings, one for hoys and the other for girls, with the dining-halls and schoolrooms on the ground-floor, and the dormitories above, this defect was severely felt during a terrible outbreak of scarlet-fever four years ago. To extend the present building would he disadvantageous, since it could only be done at con- siderable cost, and the neighbourhood is scarcely suit- able for so serious an outlay. As the committee have themselves dwelt on the de- fective condition of the place, and are about to remove to Watford, where a series of commodious edifices on a connected ground-plan are now being constructed, I may mention that there are here unmistakable indications of the results of the system of including a large number of inmates in one great building. Undoubtedly some improvements have been neg- lected, because of the short term during which the asy- lum will he occupied for its present purpose. There is a general air of seediness about the premises, insepa- rable perhaps from dwellings where the tenants are about to give up possession. I cannot say, either, that on my visit I was impressed with the generally bright VAST WARDS. 143 and healthy appearance of the children. There has been no sickness of a serious kind in the institution, and only one death occurred during the year for which the last report has been issued, so that I would not be under- stood to imply that there is any especial defect in this respect ; but even dinner, which may safely he regarded as a fair test, scarcely went off with that vigorous dis- play of youthful enjoyment which one likes to see on such occasions. That, however, may have been excep- tional. There may be some unreasoning antipathy to roast-mutton days which leads to the neglect of meat for plain boiled rice (I did not notice that vegetables were served on this occasion) ; and what seemed to be a defect may have been no more than a vagary of appetite. Even should it belong to the former condition, there is an additional reason for that reconstruction of the asylum in its new home which is shortly to be effected. In the pure bracing air of Watford, where the edge of the freehold land purchased for the new asylum is within about 200 yards of the railway and near the sta- tion, this defect will doubtless he quickly remedied. The only permanent separation of the children prac- ticable at Clapton is that of the dormitories for the younger inmates, who are under the charge of two or three elder scholars sleeping in the same room. The vast wards for the boys, one of which contains 157 beds, are each under the charge of two captains and a number of ^ prefects,’ who are answerable for the maintenance of good order. In the boys’ schoolroom, which is divided 144 LABOURS OF LOVE. into sections for the different classes by means of cur- tains stretching from wall to wall, the work of instruc- tion is carried on effectually by the masters, wdiose sleeping apartments are within the main wards, and so arranged that each master can command a view of his dormitory through a glazed window. A similar arrangement is made in the girls’ dormi- tories ; but they are fewer in number (by about one half) than the boys, and their instruction is carried on in tw’o or three separate rooms. One of the most amusing of these is the apartment devoted to those pupils whose musical studies demand pianoforte practice. This harmonious detachment is, at the time of my visit, consigned to a kind of magnified store-room, on each side of which are four larders or pantries, fitted with a glazed door a-piece. In place of the shelf and drawer which would properly occupy the interior is a neat cottage-piano ; and sitting, enclosed in her own special cupboard, is a nimble - fingered young lady, whose performances are nearly, if not quite, inaudible to each of her neighbours, as theirs are to her. I am unable to give any account of the profici- ency of these active musicians, except on the testimony of sight, since my own proficiency in the resolution of discords is unequal to the effect of six brisk players en- gaged on different exercises at the same time; so I leave them intent on overcoming the difficulties of Czerny or Beethoven, and direct my attention to the drawing, in which some of the children have attained a considerable reputation with the authorities at South THE PIANOFORTE PANTRY. 145 Kensington, seventy - two of them having received prizes. The instruction in the schools includes reading, writ- ing, grammar, dictation lessons, arithmetic, the first hooks of Euclid, and the elements of algebra and mathe- matics, geography, history, and the French language. Besides various associations for pastime, a savings-bank forms part of the institution, in which 600i. has been deposited by past and present scholars from their pocket- money. Six boys sent up to the last Oxford Local Examination passed with credit, and two obtained prizes. That these advantages are attended with good re- sults may well be inferred from the fact, that out of fifty- nine hoys who left the institution in the past official year, forty-five were provided with good and suitable situa- tions by the agency of the society. Generally the boys enter houses of business, where board and lodging are provided ; so that, excepting the charge for two or three years’ clothing (and the outfit given by the institution materially reduces even this outlay), they may be said on quitting the asylum to be in a position to earn their own livelihood. The girls are, many of them, capable of becoming nursery -governesses and pupil - teachers ; while some enter houses of business; and others return to their friends, where they occupy a position in the family. At the last annual meeting of the old scholars, 303 boys and 148 girls presented testimonials of their good conduct from their employers, and were rewarded on L 146 LABOURS OF LOVE. the plan already noticed as that adopted at the Work- ing School at Haver stock-hill. It is a significant and encouraging fact, that the annual subscriptions of old scholars to the institution amount to 3,500Z. Of course the committee are now anxious to raise special contributions for the building-fund; for although this charity has not entirely gone on the plan (which I believe to be the most desirable) of spending its entire income, or at all events of abstaining from the accumu- 4ition of a reserve fund, the property which it has in B^nk stocks and other securities will not represent more thah two years’ Expenditure ; and much of it may have heenl left to the institution contingently on its being so retailed. However this may he, nearly 3,000L has been expenifded in the purchase of the land ; and the cost of the biiildings will be over 63,000L In [these — the foundation-stone of which was laid on the 12th of July 1869, in the presence of the Prince of Wales — it is intended to receive 600 orphans (400 boys and BOO girls); the boys occupying eight houses, each comaining 50 inmates. The 2,000Z. for building one oy these houses has already been contributed by the rrocers’ Company; and the sum of 5,000Z., the entire cost of the chapel, has been given by a lady, once head- mistress to the school, and now the widow of one of its most ardent supporters, as a memorial to whom, she desires to benefit the institution ; of which she says, ^ I shall ever remember it with affection as the home of my childhood.’ COMING IMPROVEMENTS. 147 I have already mentioned that the published ac- counts of this charity are admirably clear and concise, while at the same time they specify not only the total cost, but the expense per head for each article of con- sumption in the establishment. From these it will be seen that the entire amount necessary to provide for each child averages 27Z. 10s., while the outfits to chil- dren leaving school, and the rewards to former inmates for good conduct, represent 11 , 14s. 9rf. per head in addition. Probably this cost will not be exceeded, even if it be not ultimately diminished, at the new establishment ; where the division of the inmates into families occupy- ing separate houses is a feature likely to prove highly beneficial. There are also to be covered playgrounds, and separate school-buildings for the senior and junior boys, as well as open quadrangles for each, and one for the girls. The dining-hall will be a complete building at the back of the main offices. The chapel will occupy a prominent position in front of the entire group of buildings ; and the infirmary, a separate group com- pletely detached, will be at some distance behind the rest. As regards the class of orphans for which this insti- tution is designed, it is distinctly stated that children of journeymen tradesmen, and of domestic or agricul- tural servants are ineligible ; but an examination of the lists of those admitted will show that the position of the parent has generally been above that which even this restriction might seem to indicate. 148 LABOURS OF LOVE. Like the orphanages already mentioned, and the still larger asylum at Wanstead, to which I shall pre- sently refer, candidates are received from all parts of the country, though the institution itself is so inti- mately identified with the Great City. Its object is ^ to maintain, clothe, and educate re- spectable fatherless children, of either sex, without means adequate to their support, and luherever resident. The orphans of professional or mercantile men, farmers, master traders, and clerks — or children whose parents have lost their lives in the army, navy, or marine service — are always esteemed the first claimants on the charity.’ In accordance with this, out of the 3,292 orphans received since its foundation, 1,115 have been the children of master tradesmen, 447 of ‘ shopmen, skilled mechanics, and others;’ 379 of hank, commercial, civil- service, and law clerks ; 221 of farmers, agriculturists, land-stewards, and coal-masters ; 191 of ship-owners, master mariners, pilots, officers, and men in the mer- cantile marine ; 101 of officers in the army, navy; coast- guard, and marines ; 99 of professors, preceptors, tutors, and schoolmasters ; 93 of officers in the Customs, and other government services ; 93 of warehousemen, dealers, in textile fabrics, and commercial travellers ; 78 of phy- sicians and surgeons; 71 of architects, surveyors, con- tractors, and civil engineers ; 46 of barristers and soli- citors ; 34 of literary and scientific men, and artists ; 35 of mill-owners, spinners, and manufacturers ; 35 of stock, ship, and colonial brokers ; 23 of clergymen and STEPS OF THE SOCIAL LADDER. 149 missionaries ; 46 of railway officials ; the same number of officers and messengers to banks, &c. ; and 56 of parochial and police officers, and asylum and prison officials. It is indeed encouraging to see how wide a range this charity has exercised in accepting its cases ; and although I have already said that it appears to offer some restrictions in respect to those to whom its pro- visions are extended, it would not he easy to suggest a more inclusive liberality if the intention of its sup- porters is to be sustained. In any description of these noble charities for the support of orphan children, it is difficult to avoid re- peating details wdiich are scarcely interesting to the general reader; but I must still refer to another or- phanage, which may be said socially to represent a still higher degree of the genteel poverty that I have been considering. The Infant Orphan Asylum at Wanstead unites the care of children of the earliest age with the functions of a training-school and home. Some baby orphans have been admitted there at the age of six weeks ; and both boys and girls are retained until they are fifteen years old, excepting peculiar cases. Six hundred inmates are now receiving the benefits of this most useful charity, many of them the orphan children of clergymen, officers in the army and navy, doctors. 150 LABOURS OF LOVE. lawyers, merchants, master tradesmen, engineers, build- ers, and contractors. Well may the committee ask that the institution may he its own advertisement, and invite public inspec- tion by visitors, who may obtain cards at the office, 100 Fleet-street, to admit them on any Monday or Thurs- day. It is only a short and pleasant journey to Snares- hrook by the railway from Shoreditch or the line from Fenchurch-street ; and the noble building is just oppo- site the pretty countrified station. I wish I could con- vey to any eyes that may read these lines the brightness shining through tears that the sight of that great as- sembly of little souls will occasion ; I wish I could hope to make these pages a thousandth part so interesting in their behalf as the sound of their ringing voices must be to every sympathetic tender heart. Then there would be no fear, even though more than nine-tenths of the yearly resources of the charity are derived from volun- tary contributions; and the amount of stated annual subscriptions is by no means equivalent to the outlay. They live almost from hand to mouth, these little ones : tiny creatures, lying in their little cribs or stretching out their chubby arms to the great British public, — and looking ^ like waxwork and yet so much unlike any mere mechanical pretence of life that you have ever seen, that a great thrill runs through your heart as you give some fair young cherub a finger to grasp in its soft satin - skinned hand. When you get that finger back again, let it join your thumb in clasping a pen to write a cheque, or in taking from your purse a sovereign, a THE WANSTEAD NURSERY. 151 bank-note, representing whatever sum you are prompted to give in the name of Love.. Two thousand three hundred and eighty-four little ones have entered that nursery, which forms a distinct part of the group of buildings at Wanstead, since the asylum was instituted forty- three years ago. None of them have been more than seven years old, most of them were really infants, and grew up to learn all that is taught there in the schools, of which the Government inspector says : ‘ I am glad to be able to express my complete satis- faction with the state of all the schools, which, in every respect, seem to be doing very well, and are taught with care and success by their several teachers and assistants. ^ The discipline in all the schools is excellent ; the Scripture knowledge is also excellent. ‘ The musical education of the girls is exceedingly satisfactory, and, in common with all the rest of their education, highly creditable to their teachers. The sys- tem of teaching French continues to be very successful and valuable in its results.’ There is something more than ordinarily genial in this official language. I have no doubt that the exa- miner began at the beginning, and went into that in- fant-nursery. Supposing him to have been the father of a family — well, I don’t care even though he may have been a bachelor — they had him at once. He couldn’t have been severe after that. Not that I think he could have caught these young scholars tripping many times ; the success of numbers of those who, hav- 152 LABOUKS OF LOVE. ing left that sheltering roof, are now making their own way in the world, is a pretty good proof of the value of their training ; and, were it known, might commend the cause of the asylum, which is in great need of re- gular subscribers to its funds. For the cost is great : the cost of an efficient staff for cooking and preparing the 13,000 meals a-week, and washing the 10,000 arti- cles that represent the laundry-work, to say nothing of the nursing and all the other duties that belong to such a grand baby-show as can be seen in no other country in the world. Of the large number of asylums for orphan children now carrying on their useful and earnest work, there is scarcely space to speak with fitting details in the limits of this volume ; but, as I said at the outset, I mean no disparagement to any, in selecting as examples those which are here set down as worthy representatives of this Labour of Love. At the Asylum for Fatherless Children at Eeedham, near Croydon, 260 boys and girls are received. At the British Orphan Asylum at Slough, 170 children of those once in prosperity are cared for; and at the Eoyal Albert Orphan Asylum, Collingwood-court, near Bag- shot, 92 boys and 83 girls — destitute orphans— are maintained. Then there is the institution, the Eoyal Asylum of St. Anne’s Society, founded in 1702, in which (at the Home at Streatham-hill) are 340 children, the orphans and other necessitous children of parents who have moved in a superior station of life. Many ASYLUMS FOR ORPHANS. 153 smaller charities are in operation; some of them re- ceiving only boys, and others specially intended for orphan girls. To the latter, public attention needs to he urgently directed, since, in most of the large institutions, the number of girls is seldom more than half that of the boys; and yet it would surely seem that young orphan girls require more than ordinary care in protecting them from the evils that may surround them in youth, and in preparing them for the part that women must take in forming the future national character. In the Asylum for Female Orphans at Beddington- park, Croydon, 160 girls are received, the cost per head being about 20Z. a-year. The Coburg Home, at Manor-street, Chelsea, re- ceives 46 destitute orphan girls, from four to twelve years of age ; and the Girls’ Orphan Home at Kilburn provides for 55 inmates, who are trained for domestic service. The Female Orphan Home at Elstree supports 50 destitute orphan girls; and that at Grove-road, St. John’s-wood, 53 girls who have lost both parents. Then there is the Soldiers’ Daughters’ Home at Hampstead, where above 150 daughters of soldiers are received from infancy to the age of sixteen years, main- tained and trained for domestic service. The office of this excellent society is at 7 Whitehall. The Sailors’ Orphan Girls’ School and Home, also at Hampstead, with offices at 77 Cornhill, maintains, clothes, and educates 70 orphan daughters of sailors 154 LABOURS OF LOVE. and marines, and also provides a home for them after they have left the institution while they are out of situa- tions. Besides these, there are some other small special establishments connected with particular churches and institutions; and one, the Eoyal British Female Orphan- age at Devonport, where a home is provided for 85 des- titute orphan girls, children of soldiers, sailors, and marines, especially of those who lost their lives in the public service. The Eoyal Victoria Patriotic Asylum extends the same benefit to 328 orphan daughters of soldiers and sailors who fell in the Crimean War; so that its provisions may be considered terminable in the course of a short period, unless they are applied to fresh objects. One of the most pleasant references in the annals of those general orphanages which have been considered at greater length, is that which relates to the reception, not only of the children of officers in the army and the navy, but also of the orphans of masters and officers in the mercantile marine. Happily the bereaved and destitute little ones of merchant seamen have now a large and flourishing in- stitution established for them ; and its claims for sup- port should be acknowledged by every one of us who reflects at what a risk of life, and with how few oppor- tunities for making any provision for his family, the sailor performs his arduous duty. Surely our sym- pathies should be awakened to the claims of the sailor’s widow and her helpless little ones. THE SAILOll’s OEPHAN. 155 Water-Babies. When that sweet little cherub who is traditionally and lyrically represented as sitting up aloft to look out for the life of poor Jack, is relieved by the next watch, and makes a short excursion for the purpose of stretching his wings, it may reasonably be inferred that he hovers lovingly over the neighbourhood of Snaresbrook, in Essex, and perches occasionally on the tall spiral tower of that magnificent building, where 136 children, the orphans of merchant seamen, are maintained with loving care. It may have occurred to the cherub in his flights to that tree-embowered part of the country near Epping Forest, that in this island, whose rightness and tight- ness are so dependent on the exertions of the sailor, the sailor’s orphan becomes everybody’s care, and that, of all destitute British babies, the water-baby has, perhaps, the most urgent claim. This reflection was at least suggested to me as I stepped on to the platform of the new Snaresbrook sta- tion, on the Great Eastern Kailway; and its force was not diminished when I learned that the building, whose roof and tower I could see above the trees a short dis- tance down the Chigwell-road, had been built to accom- modate 250 inmates, and could easily be extended for the reception of 200 boys and 100 girls, many of whom had been left without either father or mother, and all of whose fathers had done their duty in the merchant service, and had died without having been able to provide for their families. 156 LABOURS OF LOVE. The limited number of children 'which the committee of this admirable charity are able to admit to the asylum at present is scarcely more a matter for surprise than the fact that the institution itself was founded more than forty years ago, when, in an ordinary tenement in St. George’s-in-the-East, from five to ten orphan boys were received. In 1829 a similar house was taken for the recep- tion of girls ; and both establishments were increased, until the number of inmates became so large as to make it necessary to rent larger premises. A suit- able building for the purpose was discovered in the Bow-road, where boys and girls to the number of 120 were received under the same roof in a large house standing in its own grounds ; but as the place was only held on a short lease, it was deemed advisable to commence a building-fund, in order ultimately to secure a freehold and an appropriate establishment for so useful an asylum. This was set on foot in 1850 ; and the appeal of the promoters having been liberally responded to by gentlemen, and it may also be said by ladies, con- nected with the shipping interest in London, a plot of ground at Snaresbrook, seven acres and a half in extent, was purchased in 1858, and the present building was commenced in 1860 ; the foundation-stone being laid by the late Prince Consort, whose name is peculiarly associated with this asylum as the last building of the kind which he inaugurated. On the 10th of July 1862, the orphans were brought to their new home, and since that time the grounds and A WORD FOR THE SAILORS’ CHILDREN. 157 much of the interior fitting have been completed. The committee, the architect, the contractors, and the patrons have done their work well. It is not too much to say, that if those who are blessed with the means to help the sailors’ orphans will do their part of the work in a similar spirit, the subscription-list will soon warrant the managers of the charity in filling the spare wards with little clean white beds, and in training up twice the present number of children into healthy, honest English men and women. To think of the fathers of these orphans meeting their death while in active service, is at once to try to realise what the life of a sailor really is — of the tedious voyage, the long parting from children, friends, and home, the hard wearying work, the unchanging mo- notony, the frequent suffering from hunger, thirst, and cold, the misery of a ship ill-found and under-manned, the silent longing for the return passage, the constant toil, the more terrible occurrence of sickness or disable- ment, with only a damaged medicine-chest and a cap- tain’s remedies. It is to remind ourselves that for almost every one of those luxuries which we have learnt to regard as neces- saries and take at every meal, we have to depend on our merchant seamen ; and it is to reflect how many brave fellows are lost every year within sight, as it were, of the very homes where they have left their little ones waiting. Surely, if any children are a national charge — and all poor children have that claim — these poor orphans of the 158 LABOURS OF LOVE. sea are specially committed to us. How much remains to be done before we can say that we have tried to fulfil this trust, may be learnt from the fact that in the last ten years more than 30,000 British seamen have died from various causes while in active service ; that two- thirds of this number left widows and orphans ; and that at least one-fourth of the deaths occurred from drowning ; while another fourth may be directly attri- buted to accident or privation. Imagine for a moment 70,000 children left father- less from one section of our community — a section the very nature of whose calling is at once eminently hazard- ous, and not so remunerative as to render the making of any provision an easy task ! Take off as large a per- centage as you reasonably can of children not even com- paratively destitute, and what a startling number will be left ! Let all the resources of this great building be made available, and the 300 little ones, of ages from seven to fifteen, be gathered within its walls, the light lofty dor- mitories be furnished with their complement of tiny white beds, and there will still be work to do. As it is, there has been added to the building only a large dining-hall, the first stone of which was laid by the Prince and Princess of Wales in 1866 ; but the wing occupied by the boys has yet to be completed ; and the infirmary, now occupied by healthy inmates, would be required in case of its provisions being rendered neces- sary by the serious sickness of many of the children : a calamity from which they have hitherto been mercifully BEAUTY AND CONVENIENCE. 159 preserved. As it is, only 250 inmates can be received until the funds are increased. The original patrons, the committee, and the subscribers have done their work well ; but they want help. That they have done their work, witness the building, which they determined to raise in the hope that it would soon be filled. The building - fund was formed from special contributions ; and those who formed it deter- mined that it should be worthy of the object for which it was designed : not by costliness, but by convenience ; not by pretentiousness, but by beauty. To use a good old seafaring phrase, they would not ^ spoil the ship for the sake of a ha’porth of tar;’ and they have been justified by the result. As I stand here by the iron gate in the high railing enclosing the grounds, I am convinced that the managers have begun well by the exercise of a wise liberality with regard to their building. It is certainly a splendid edifice, its broad frontage and North-Italian architec- ture being relieved by the handsome stone dressings and courses of coloured bricks, which are scarcely likely to be turned to a dingy hue in that pure forest air. Standing inside the gate, and, in answer to my sum- mons, requiring to know my business, is an ^ ancient mariner’ of about eleven, in a pilot jacket and a cloth cap. He fixes me with his glistening eye like that other ancient mariner in the poem ; but it is a very pleasant eye — a quiet, roguish, but yet respectful eye, which seems to wonder why I am staring so earnestly at 160 LABOURS OF LOVE. liis house. He is evidently quite accustomed to its mag- nificent proportions ; and after a farther scrutiny, admits me, and runs away to call the matron to receive me at the door. In the open space beyond, and a little behind, the building, a swing or two and a trapeze hanging from a tree denote the playground ; and beyond that a level space for cricket awaits the return of summer weather ; but under the schoolroom is a covered cloister, making a famous sheltered space for a score of games, and a drilling and practising ground for the band of fifes and drums. For they are eminently harmonious at Snares- brook, and the child who has a taste for music is taught it without much ado. I hear the sound of music as I enter the hall, and find that it proceeds from one of the rooms, where, in her play-time, an elder girl is practising the harmonium, hoping, no doubt, to become some day as proficient as one of her late schoolfellows, who, besides being a school- assistant, acts as organist in the beautiful chapel, which has been built entirely at the expense of Lady Morrison, ^ to the glory of God, and for the use of the Merchant Seamen’s Orphan Asylum.’ This chapel, with its high roof of glistening pine, its polished granite lectern, and its plain but perfect ap- pointments, is but the record of the constant care and support which that benevolent lady has given to the institution, of which she may be called the mother. I am not sure that the children do not speak of her tenderly and respectfully under that endearing name. A PLEASANT SURVEY. 161 I am sure that some of them love her well enough to use it with all the strength of their little orphan hearts. It is very pleasant to go to the schoolroom where the boys are at work, and to notice how they rise — more to the matron than to me, I’m sure — with a sort of manly courtesy very different indeed from the half-servile ^ manner’ that belongs to the teaching of some institutions. I am no less struck with this than with the grave and unembarrassed modesty of the girls. About 100 of the 130 hoys now in the institution are occupied with their slates under the care of one of the masters, himself with a sea air upon him, and a salt-water cut about his dress. In the girls’ school, in another corridor, about fifty out of the seventy-nine blue- clad lasses are busy with their needles, the youngest of them pretty little creatures of seven or eight years old. In all the rooms, wards, and corridors, except the committee-room and some of the private apartments, the walls are left just as they were built, evenly faced with gray-stock bricks, without paint or plaster, the uniformity being relieved by hands of bricks of purple tint, and cut red-brick mouldings and window arches. The great height and noble size of the different apart- ments render this arrangement far preferable to any attempt at plastering or colouring the walls ; and the large light windows, combined with the toned hue of the brick, give the whole place a delightful effect of M 162 LABOUES OF LOVE. cleanliness and ventilation without the chilly sensation which is somehow always connected with wall composi- tion, and even with any hut expensive and richly- coloured papers, in such large spaces. The corridors, both on the ground-floor and in the upper stories leading to the dormitories, are brick- vaulted and fireproof ; the woodwork throughout the building be- ing of varnished pine, without paint of any kind. The dormitories are the most airy and spacious, and at the same time the most easily regulated with regard to tem- perature, that I have ever seen in any similar institu- tion, and are fitted with capital baths and lavatories, beside a series of foot-tubs, known to the hoys by the expressive name of ^ trotter-boxes.’ The hospital is at present only a large apartment on the upper floor, with a nurse’s room, and detached or enclosed beds for severe cases of illness ; but it is well contrived for the completeness of its arrangements. This hospital, however, has not been used in any case of epidemic or other infectious disease. The children here are singularly free from even small ailments ^ — a condition which the pure air of that open country, the perfect ventilation, and the abundant supply of good food and good water, will very well explain. Pure air, pure water, and ventilation may all be appreciated by a visit to the top of the building under the main spire, where the two great tanks are placed for the supply of the establishment ; and where I stand, as it were, in the lantern of a lighthouse, look- ing out, not over sea, but above the tree-tops of that IN THE OPEN AIR. 163 woody country towards Chigwell, Woodford, Wanstead, and Epping : open spaces of green fields and embowered deeps, soon to be rustling with billows of green leaves, but now only a tangled mass of bare branches. The boys occupy the south wing, and the girls the western portion ‘of the building, separated by the apartments of the matron, and reached by distinct staircases. The girls have a large space for out-door games in front of the building ; and the boys a cricket-ground and play- field at the back. Besides these, however, there is an arched cloister under the boys’ schoolroom, which is a famous play-place for wet weather, and where their band of fifes and drums has plenty of marching-room ; while the girls have a covered playground beneath the dining- hall. The chapel, at which I have already peeped, is in the same exterior style as the main building, al- though detached from it, and all its beautiful appoint- ments are evidences that, besides the large sum of 5,0001. which she has devoted to the general fund, Lady Morrison has added the chapel as a fitting crown to that labour of love which has constituted her the mother of these little orphans, who regard her with so much gratitude and affection. From the high- polished pine roof over the altar to the sparkling granite and marble of the lectern, the fittings of this sanctuary are in complete harmony with the rest of the institution, which has been raised by the special contributions of those who desired not to withhold their hands. I should like to stay here and dream a little ; but 164 LABOUKS OF LOVE. it is dinner-time, and I have yet to look in at the great dining-hall, where the long tables will soon be spread. Of the kitchen, with its lifts to the great refectory and other rooms above, there is at least this much to say — that, with a tolerably wide experience of kitchens in public and charitable establishments, I am delighted to see that there is obviously no desire to substitute the mere cold unmeaning mechanical appliances of modern culinary science for that air of comfort, that whisper of home, which is the chief charm of any kitchen worthy of the name. There are, it is true, great iron steamers and boilers with patent lever-fitted lids ; but there is no terrible evidence of everlasting boiling; and there are evidences of pies and puddings as well as roast meats. Above all, there is a glorious dresser, bearing a still more glorious dinner-service, which, although the chil- dren are served on neat metal and white - enamelled bowls and platters, such as one sees in the windows of outfitters’ shops, must be a cheerful, homelike, plea- sant piece of furniture to every boy and girl going in and out. Only two more parenthetical remarks, which should be as suggestive as anything I can say on behalf of this admirable asylum. It is fortunate in the services of Mr. Hackwood, an energetic, assiduous, and experienced gentleman, who makes his secretaryship itself less an official duty than a labour of love. It spends all its subscriptions and contributions from wealthy patrons, from sympathetic friends, from captains and officers and THE WHISPER OF HOME. 165 passengers of ships far out at sea, and from former scholars who have succeeded well in the world, for the purpose of maintaining as many present inmates as can be received ; in other words, it has no endowment fund except that already referred to, especially given on that condition, and devoted to special objects. Before another year is past, may the long tables in the great dining-hall he full, and more sailors’ orphans now destitute find parents in a nation whereof the people have sea salt in their very blood ! The of&ces of the Merchant Seamen’s Orphan Asylum are at 117 and 118 Leadenhall-street. Charitable Gambling. The glory of the large number of charitable insti- tutions for which England is distinguished is so gener- ally represented to consist in their voluntary character, that people have come to regard with something like indifference those provisions for the relief of distress or the assistance of honest struggling poverty which are secured, or should he secured, by endowments left in the hands of almoners and trustees. Yet, if a cor- rect statement were to he published of the nature and amounts of all the charitable trusts which have either been allowed to accumulate for want of recipients en- titled to the benefits derived from them, or have been altogether misapplied by the successors of the original trustees, we should be startled at the large sums re- 166 LABOURS OF LOVE. presented by charities which either ^ go a-hegging/ or are allowed to answer no useful end, because the pre- cise letter of the intention of the original founder can no longer be carried out. In many instances the accumulations of years of improvement are permitted to lie idle because a definite sum to be divided between a stated number of people was all that could be realised from the land left by the charitable old testator, who never foresaw that every foot of ground would one day be worth a small annuity. In other instances money left for the benefit of poor persons in certain parishes is unclaimed because there are no residents in the parish who can reasonably de- mand it; while in more than one little district the sum represented by the original bequest is quietly disposed of at parochial meetings, and no questions asked, simply because there is nobody to ask questions, except those who wrongfully participate in the distribution. These are the parishes where it is as good as a little legacy to be appointed one of the board, or to serve the office of churchwarden ; where the accession of a tradesman to such an office is almost immediately sig- nalised by the putting in of a new shop-front ; and is often followed in a year or two by a relinquishing of a petty retail business and a promotion to the dignity of a wholesale dealer. In numerous instances considerable sums of money have been for years increasing in amount, while the original intentions of the testators have been super- seded by the changes that have taken place in society OLD BEQUESTS. 167 or in particular alterations of the laws ; and money, which is at once urgently needed and might be most usefully applied in the spirit of its original donors, if not in exact accordance with the dead letter of their last wills and testaments, is being held over until some legal enactment shall release trustees from the possi- bility of being sued hereafter for any seeming breach of privilege in disbursing a penny for any other object than one which no longer exists. Doubtless the voluntary system has reared some of the most useful and admirable institutions which bless the country ; and there are few forms of distress which may not he relieved by one or other of the noble charities that are increasing in scope and usefulness every year; but it should not be forgotten that the old bequests were voluntary gifts for the relief of such forms of misery or the assistance of such manifest difficulties among the poor as were most obvious at the time they were made, and that the acquisition by some of the best existing institutions of the large accumulated funds intended to promote similar objects to their own, would enable many of them to extend their operations so ma- terially as to make a serious diminution in the general amount of suffering. The great objection urged against the administra- tion of those charities that are vested in trustees is, that they are susceptible to private influences and liable to become the mere properties of members of the board, who can promote the interest of any particular can- didate without reference to the higher claims of the 168 LABOUBS OF LOVE. greatest necessity. This objection might possibly be obviated by an amalgamation of existing boards of trus- tees with the members of the committees of voluntarily supported institutions, or by electing a certain number of members of such committees as special sub -com- mittees for the management of those particular funds apart from the money contributed by subscribers. Be- fore any such scheme as this amalgamation can he so much as thought of, however, it would be necessary for some of the largest institutions that are supported by voluntary contributions to use strenuous efforts to abolish that practice of charitable gambling which at present threatens both to destroy the sentiment that can alone sustain any benevolent work, and to make the application of the funds of the institutions themselves ineffectual, by devoting them to cases not contemplated on the original foundation, and entirely ineligible ex- cept by a straining of its provisions. It may be that the purchase of votes by subscrip- tions, and the election of candidates for the benefits of the charity by the supporters of the charity itself, is, if not the best, the most expedient method of se- lecting the objects of relief ; but no one who goes a couple of hours before the appointed time into the room where a charitable election is to be held, can fail to see that this system has been perverted to such an extent, that it will soon be necessary to go to some of the worst-administered of the old charitable trusts for a parallel. The whole preliminary business of the occasion AT A CHARITABLE ELECTION. 169 seems to resolve itself into a mere sale or bartering of votes. As each supporter of the institution ascends the staircase — say of the London Tavern — he or she is assailed by touters, who offer benevolent suffrages in exchange for the particular proxies they require, al- though the same kind of gambling has been going on in the entire circle of all similar institutions for months before. It is a great game of speculation ; and votes for hospitals, working schools, orphanages, asylums, and refuges, change hands with a celerity that fills the inexperienced mind with wonder as to who will be the final recipients of the various bounties, and what ulti- mate guarantee can be secured of the proper adminis- tration of the funds of any of them. It is wonderful to witness the arts that are used on such occasions to exchange a doubtful voucher for one more immediately useful, and to listen to the premiums offered for those that rule highest in the market. ^ I can give you two orphanages and an asylum for three aged pensioners,’ says a fair siren, with a coaxing look, as some benevolent old gentleman reaches the landing breathless. ^ Do you want a refuge or a female home ?’ quietly insinuates a blooming matron, as she displays a number of tickets like a hand of cards. They are so eager that they throng the staircases, and waylay the victims as they toil painfully upward. It is difficult to withstand their beseeching glances and their innocent endearments, but you feel like a loser at a game in which you are at a disadvantage ; you see 170 LABOUKS OF LOVE. the very spirit of gambling in their eyes, and hear its hard ring in their voices as they cry like female crou- piers to the next comer, and offer their vouchers for sale on the chance of hacking the winning candidate when the hour arrives for the poll. A great deal might be said about another kind of charitable gambling, of the legality of which there is great doubt. The method lately employed by certain institutions of sending out neat little packets of lottery- tickets, giving the chance of winning a grand piano, a pony-chaise, a piece of Irish linen, a collar of brawn, a Westphalia ham, a sack of potatoes, a china tea-ser- vice, a silver dressing-case, or a dozen of socks, for the small outlay of half-a-sovereign, is demoralising, truly ; hut the charities which adopt these means are mostly distant, and belong to a certain section of Eoman Ca- tholicism. They are scarcely worse in their impersonal and unhenevolent character than those which are subject to the full influence of the sale and barter of votes. Imagine, if you can, the bitter disappointment of some earnest worker, who, after wearying efforts to re- turn a candidate whose case has been personally in- quired into and its urgent need acknowledged, discovers that months of endeavour have been superseded by the ability of some wealthier patron of a comparatively un- known claimant, who, at the eleventh hour, can buy up a large holding of proxies, or promise any number of votes for other institutions in exchange ! Imagine the still more painful heart-sickness that THE PROFANATION OF CHARITY. 171 comes of deferred hope followed by unfulfilled expecta- tion, when a poor creature, the mother of orphan chil- dren perhaps (though it is not orphanages alone that suffer from this evil practice), who, resting from her anxious striving only on the morning of the election, and with a kind of fluttering triumph at her supposed success, learns that all those unregistered votes, of which she had scarcely heard, have been secured by the power of the purse. Hers is more than a disappointment : it is an agony. I venture to assert, that whoever gains an election by the purchase of votes in this way, is an accomplice in gross and unfeeling fraud, and is guilty of profaning the very name of charity: But it is not always that money passes on the occa- sion. The arrangement is, indeed, generally concluded by barter. No matter whether the purchaser of votes for that particular institution actually has in hand the commensurate value in proxies for any other charity, the election to which is to be on some later date ; an 1 0 U is sufficient, and all that remains to be done is to set to work to obtain them in time to repay the obli- gation. It will be seen, therefore, that the seller parts with votes, entitling to the benefits of the charity, some per- son of whose qualifications he knows nothing, on con- dition that the buyer shall requite this service on pre- cisely similar terms. Can we wonder that the provisions of many of our most eminent benevolent institutions are sometimes 172 LABOURS OF LOVE. abused, and that even careful inquiry on the part of the secretary or the visiting members of the committee occasionally fails to prevent the admission of unworthy candidates ? Sometimes timid people, despairing otherwise of success, are led into this sort of arrangement, and when settling day comes (the day of some other election), dis- cover that they cannot make up the number of votes for which their acknowledgments have been given. Then there is nothing for it but to pay their money value, that the creditor may go and buy them elsewhere ; a demand which falls heavily indeed on any poor creature who has been induced by a bad example to adopt this expedient in order to gain the election of her orphan child, her aged parent, or her destitute relation. It may easily be understood what facilities such a system gives to unscrupulous persons who make the traffic in votes part of their business ; how they may become large holders in one institution, or may do a jobbing trade in several. In order to check the worst evils of these nefarious schemes, the purchase of votes should be strictly for- bidden, and any election gained by such means should be declared invalid. No person should be allowed to obtain votes, except by application as a subscriber or contributor to the institution; and then the purchase of a sufficient num- ber to return a candidate would probably amount to a sum which, if paid in a lump for the purpose, might insure the admission of a candidate as an endoived case, HOW TO STOP THE EVIL. 173 and so not prejudice the result of the forthcoming elec- tion. To effect this object, it would be necessary (and I think the rule would be judicious) not to issue proxies for any election in return for subscriptions or donations paid only within a certain number of days of such elec- tion being held. This plan should of course include a refusal to ac- knowledge any 1 0 U or promissory note relating to exchange of votes, by declaring such arrangements to be illegal, and refusing to admit any candidate on whose behalf such a transaction had taken place. While this would help to put a stop to the unmiti- gated evil of these impersonal returns of unknown can- didates, it would not operate to prevent friends from exchanging actual proxies, each owner of which had confidence that the votes would be well bestowed on a case the claims of which had been subject to personal inquiry. It must be understood that in the institutions my visits to which I have recorded, vote - hawking and proxy-mongering are entirely discouraged ; but in order to render this discouragement more effectual, it would be well if all the influential charities would agree on some decided course of action, and make definite and stringent rules with some organisation for mutual pro- tection. These rules should be plainly printed on each voting- paper, with an emphatic request to the subscriber to whom it is issued, not to suffer the document to leave his possession until he had placed on it the name of 174 LABOUKS OF LOVE. the candidate, which would be regarded as his guaran- tee that he had made personal inquiry, and was satisfied of the genuineness of the case. This precaution might he combined with a regula- tion that every candidate should send in to the com- mittee a petition or application, signed by two house- holders, one of 'whom should be a governor of the charity — a rule which has been adopted in some insti- tutions apparently with satisfactory results. But, after all, the principal remedy must be sought in endeavouring to awaken the conscience of the ^ bene- volent public;’ for in truth there are few things in which good and kind-hearted people are so unprincipled as in this kind of charitable aid. Without declaring that many of the contributors to prominent institutions are actuated by no higher motive than the appearance of their names on the subscription list — a charge too frequently brought against them by persons who make the assertion an excuse for never giving even an anonymous shilling to any benevolent association whatever — it may be feared that only a minority of the supporters of these institutions take a real personal interest in their working, or trouble themselves to be responsible for the qualification of the candidate for whom they give their votes, even to the extent of inquiring the name and learning the degree of necessity of the person for whom their in- terest is solicited. We may contribute our guinea to be rid of an obli- gation to a friend, or to escape the repeated solicita- THE WANT OF PERSONAL INTEREST. 175 tions of some active supporter of the charity, in whose hands we are satisfied to leave our vote ; or we may devote a certain annual amount of charitable conscience- money to subscriptions, in the carelessly expressed belief that ‘it is sure to do some good;’ while we exhibit no real interest whatever in securing the usefulness of its application ; or we may be intimate with a circle of peo- ple concerned in supporting a particular asylum, and pay down our contributions as a sort of entrance-fee to their society. Beneath all these ways of contributing, there is doubtless the feeling that it is our duty to aid works of charity and mercy, and an endeavour to promote what we believe to be a desirable alleviation of distress. Taken in the rough, there is still a nugget, or at all events a few grains, of golden love within the external sordid crust of stone and clay. But it is not a labour of love in which we are engaged. We can claim no personal share in that work, the results of which are so indifferent to us that we do not even take the trouble to follow the ordinary worldly rule — of seeing that, for our money, we have our money’s worth. I have already spoken of the vote - hawkers and proxy -mongers ; it is this negligence on the part of subscribers which enables them to follow their calling. I have mentioned the scenes displayed in the committee- rooms on election - days, where such transactions are openly carried on. Those of my readers who are familiar with these occasions will have heard of, even if they do not know, 176 LABOUKS OF LOVE. two persons at least — a lady and gentleman ; the latter distinguished by a very familiar name, conferred on him because of his facial peculiarity ; the former, an example of a kind of weedy gentility — who always have votes on hand, or can engage to obtain proxies for almost any popular institution. It is very well under- stood that they do not subscribe so liberally as to secure so large an influence ; hut they are indefatigable canvassers, have an intimate acquaintance with the market, and know where to find the loose unsettled contributors. In many instances a candidate’s only hope of elec- tion seems to he the chance of securing the offices of these individuals. They can influence the fate of an applicant at the very turning point of success or failure ; — they best know for what consideration ; but even if it be for no consideration whatever, and only in pure good -nature, the state of things that makes such a power possible should no longer exist. It is a hitter satire on any professedly voluntary system. Charitable Festivity. When a charitable institution lacks sufficient funds, or begins to suffer from that diminished interest which even regular subscribers will sometimes display, and supporters, who suffer from the reaction which comes after the benevolent gambling that consists of stak- ing votes and vouchers, cannot avert, there is one method to which secretaries and committees almost in- SOCIAL PHENOMENA. 177 variably resort. At present, although some innovations have been tried — and one or two of them have been exceptionally successful — the old organisation of a charity dinner is perhaps the safest, and best answers the purpose of increasing the list of subscriptions. We no longer call it a ^ charity dinner.’ It is a ^festival,’ mostly an ^ annual festival,’ and in some instances a little regard is had to the new title by some arrange- ment by which the dinner may be followed by — well, not by a ball exactly, but by ^ dancing ;’ — the partners of the flushed and seven-coursed gentlemen being the ladies who have been witnessing their performances from a gallery to which they have been condemned, after a five-shilling cold collation and a few glasses of wiry champagne, that they may hear the speeches, be led to sympathise with the ^ objects of the charity,’ and criticise the professional singers who accompany the dreary post-prandial oratory with more or less inappro- priate melodies. In the whole range of modern society there is no- thing so astonishing as the continued belief in the effi- cacy of these festivals for reviving the doubtful interests of the philanthropic public, except the fact that they do operate to that end in some occult and hitherto unex- plained manner, and by means which the cynic refers to personal vanity, and the optimist to emulation in well-doing and the enthusiasm of united beneficence. No sooner do the first truly vernal shoots appear upon the trees, than societies which have been hyber- nating start into perceptive life, and see the necessity N 178 LABOUKS OF LOVE. for new funds; while those that have made their in- fluence felt when it was needed during the adverse months of the year, seek for an occasion to assert their claims. In either case there is but one method that com^ mends itself to the serious attention of the com- mittee. Whether the balance at the hankers’ is so low that arrangements have to be made to pay for the dinner itself out of the very subscriptions that it is hoped will he handed to the secretary before the end of the dessert, or the condition of the institution is so flourishing that rival hotels compete for the honour of providing a sumptuous entertainment at a guinea a-head, with a handsome discount by way of a contribution, the only way to mark the sense of the committee that the public has behaved with noble generosity, or to give to a public waiting to display a generous nobility the opportunity which it covets, is to ^ organise’ a festival. The most extraordinary part of the whole business is, that everybody concerned — the secretary, who de- clares that the work it entails on him is nothing short of slavery, the committee who represent the institution, the stewards who represent the irrepressible delights of dining together at a guinea a-head, the subscribers who are invited to partake of the elaborate repast, the gene- ral public, which is represented by one or two weary- eyed and white-waistcoated ‘ visitors,’ — all unite in declaring that if there is one thing in the world to which they have a rooted and invincible antipathy, it THE GUESTS AT A FESTIVAL. 179 is a charity dinner, even though it he disguised under the name of an annual festival. The assertion is borne out by the appearance of the guests when the looked -for occasion arrives. Each individual, as he gives up his hat and overcoat to the attendants (who already have speculation in their eyes, and seem to his disturbed mind to he clairvoyantly looking at the small change in his waistcoat -pocket), appears as though he had been specially selected for an unpleasant duty. Some of the younger or less accustomed begin to ascend the stairs with a jauntily-depressed air ; but even they are toned down to the proper level by the time they smell the haunch of mutton, and catch pre- liminary whiffs of mock-turtle on the landing. Left to wander helplessly in the dingy room, where four stewards, with their legs wide apart, are pretending to discuss a subject about which neither of them cares, while they await the arrival of the chairman, who does not come; the aimless and faint, but not hungry, sub- scriber has ample opportunity to wish that he had sent his guinea and taken his usual chop in the City. He looks round the dingy room with its renovated hangings, its ineffectual clock, its neutral pictures, and faded carpet, from which the faltering feet of armies of sickening guests have worn out the pattern, happy to find an acquaintance who will at least give him the ex- cuse of taking wine at dinner. He hears a hustle at the door, sees that the room is filling, notices that the stewards have taken possession of somebody in a white 180 LABOURS OF LOVE. neckclotli (whom he at first mistakes for the head-waiter, but on inquiry discovers is the chairman), and then finds himself hustling, like a member of the House of Com- mons going up to the bar of the Lords, towards the room where, on the great expanse of tablecloth, shines the service of plate of which the centre pieces are polished till the copper shows through, and the calico and muslin flowers in the epergnes almost rival the real plants that fade before the odours of strong meats and the steam of the usual soup. There is no need to dwell on the merely material part of these ^ festivals.’ The festa is too often to a regulation pattern — the same thin hock and fiery sherry and peculiar metallic - flavoured Bucellas ; the same dense puttified cutlets and lardy patties, and cold plates for chilled mutton ; the same tepid melted butter and stringy guinea-fowl; the same compensating champagne and ice-pudding — what time the grand piano is wheeled forward and the songstress tunes her lays ; the same spasmodic announcements by the secretary ; the same replete eloquence interrupted by a nutcracker accom- paniment; the same applause that salutes by a crescendo movement the big contribution, and recognises by a corresponding decrescendo the subscription of a guinea. Above all, the ladies in the gallery, seen through a haze composed of the vapours of all the courses, and blurring them into a mechanical waxwork expression, especially when their toast is proposed; and a youth of great pro- mise but ineffective utterance is called upon to reply. It is a dreadful custom, this invitation of ladies to ladies’ tickets. 181 the gallery to witness the degraded position to which the want of their presence at the table reduces mankind; but it may be doubted whether the greatest modern in- novation of ^ the festival’ is not more to be lamented, because their admission to the charity dinner itself has dispelled an illusion which it might have been for their happiness to have retained. They had a firm belief that these festive occasions were high holidays, and grumbled sweetly that men had so many pleasures in which poor^ women were not allowed to participate. There is an end to that happy misbelief, at all events, now that ladies’ tickets for fifteen shillings give them all the privileges of charitable festivities. The Oephan Boys at Stockwell. I have already alluded to the extent of the provision for bereaved and destitute boys as compared with that for the relief and maintenance of girls ; and the mention of it at once leads me to refer to one of the latest insti- tutions established for receiving orphan children — one, too, which differs materially in some respects, but more particularly in the way in which it originated, and in the plan for receiving candidates, from most other or- phanages in London. The institution was commenced by the transfer of one single large sum of money to trus- tees as an endowment, and the mode of receiving chil- dren is by selection on the part of the committee instead of election by the votes of subscribers ; urgent cases, in which principal contributors to the foundation are in- 182 LABOURS OF LOVE. terested, having the preference, the greatest necessity being regarded as the best general recommendation of ordinary claimants. I do not make any distinction between this and other institutions on the ground of its being associated with a particular religious denomination, because, in reality, no such distinction exists. The original benefactress chose Mr. Spurgeon as the most likely man to he able to carry out her purpose, and he found (as he always seems to find) ready assistance from the leading people of his own congregation. This is, as far as I can dis- cover, the sole connection that the Stockwell Orphanage has with ^ the Tabernacle’ and its congregation. Its indirect connection with the Baptist denomination con- sists only in the fact, that some of the Baptist ministers of England have contributed funds to build two houses or cottages (for the orphanage is on the separated or cottage system), and the students of the Baptist College have built another. The foundation of the charity is declared to be completely unsectarian ; and indeed I may mention that the resident superintendent and present head-master is, or was, a minister of the ^ Independent’ body, chosen for the work because of his being suitable to discharge its duties. Mr. Spurgeon himself is chair- man of the committee ; and at present there can be no doubt that the institution is almost, if not entirely, sup- ported by his people, in as far as its expenses are not met by the original endowment of 20,000Z., the interest of which, it need not be said, is less than is required even for the number of children now maintained there. A NOBLE GIFT. 183 In the autumn of the year 1866 Mr. Spurgeon re- ceived a note, apparently written by a lady, simply stat- ing that the writer wished him to call on her, in order to consult on the determination which she had for some time entertained of devoting hy far the greater part of her property — no less a sum than 20,000Z. invested in various securities — to the maintenance of orphan chil- dren. I cannot possibly explain the results of this re- markable intimation better than by quoting what Mr. Spurgeon himself said about it on the occasion of laying the foundation-stones of the first cottages for which the funds had been provided on the 9th of September 1867. A large area of land had been obtained beside the main- road at Stockwell, and a very enthusiastic assembly had manifested its interest in the work by meeting on the ground, where a great covered shed, not unlike an orna- mental and highly-finished railway goods-shed, had been erected, to serve thereafter the admirable purpose of a great covered playground, and a convenient, sheltered, but yet open building for future summer meetings. ^ She thought,’ said Mr. Spurgeon, speaking of the lady whose gift was the occasion of the meeting — ‘ she thought she had found out the proper individual to whom to intrust her money, and I received a note from her which, when I read and read again, greatly startled me. That note said: ‘‘1 have determined to devote 20,000Z. to the work of maintaining orphans ; would you he good enough to come and see me about it?” Now I thought at first that perhaps the lady had put a naught” or two too many; and, again, that it was 184 LABOUKS OF LOVE. just possible that some one desired to play me a trick. However, I thought it would he my duty to see about it, and I went to this good sister; and found her to be a really earnest and practical woman, desirous of having her money expended in the best possible manner, and to have it expended upon fatherless children, with a special view to their souls being cared for, and to their being trained in the fear of God and the doctrines of truth. I, however, objected for some little time to take the work, having too much to do already. However, our good sister said I had many friends who would help me, and she believed the deacons and the church and congregation would take the matter up, and that the work would be done. We talked that over together, and my dear friends the deacons agreed to become trus- tees with me, and to assist me with their usual vigour.’ Mr. Spurgeon then went on to the history of the work that they had met to inaugurate, and said : ‘ Hence it is that we are here to-day, upon a piece of ground which has been purchased for the erection of houses for taking care of fatherless boys. Fatherless boys were the objects contemplated by our sister. Why she did not include fatherless girls I do not know; but I believe she leaves that open to somebody else, and we shall be quite prepared to assist that somebody else” on some other spot, so as to have an asylum for girls also. Now, inasmuch as the funds provided were, in the order of God’s providence, fast fixed and locked, so that we cannot get at them at present beyond the in- terest upon them, an appeal was made to the public to THE ^ SILVER- WEDDING HOUSE.’ 185 assist' us in building the houses. The first stones of three of these houses will he laid this afternoon. The first stone should he laid by our sister, Mrs. Hillyard, who has given the 20,000Z. ; unfortunately the work- people have laid the tackle to the wrong house, and consequently I am obliged to begin. The next house is the house of which she is to lay the foundation-stone. The money for that house is given by a merchant of the city of London, a gentleman who bears a name well known to many, but not to be mentioned now or at any other time. He gives it unto God, and does not desire to have his name mentioned. That house will be called the Merchant’s House.” The house of which I shall lay the first stone is to be called Silver- Wedding House,” and is given by a sister who has lived happily with her beloved husband for twenty-five years. About a month before the wedding-day came round, her hus- band said to her, My dear, I mean to make you a pre- sent on your wedding-day of 500L” Well,” said she, I have often wished for so large a sum as that to give Mr. Spurgeon for some of his good works.” So away she came with her 500Z., and now I have to lay the foundation-stone for her. Then the next house, the stone of which will be laid by Mr. Higgs, is to be called the Workmen’s House.” The workmen in connection with our esteemed brother, Mr. Higgs, of the Crown Works, agreed, at a little meeting we held there, to build the house, Mr. Higgs agreeing at the same time to give the materials. I believe that the workmen will faithfully redeem their pledge ; but Mr. Higgs, think- 186 LABOUES OF LOVE. ing it might be a long time before they worked their money out, has at once given the whole of it in the shape of that great shed yonder, which will be a splen- did permanent building for the children to play in, and a place to hold such gatherings in as that which we shall hold to-night when we require to have them. Our w^orking friends, who are present, should be reminded of one very solemn fact. A promise was made at our meeting at Mr. Higgs’, that we would endeavour, when- ever there were vacancies in the house, to take in their orphans, if, unfortunately, any of them should be taken away; and that the men who had contributed should have the first place for their children. Now, mark this. Last Wednesday there worked at yonder counter one of Mr. Higgs’ workmen, who is now gone to another world, leaving two boys behind him. He was one of those who had contributed to this house, and I have no doubt that his little ones will share in the benefits of the institu- tion as soon as it is possible for them to do so. In the midst of life we are in death.” I did think, when I mentioned it to our working friends there, that they could not make a better investment, even apart from any idea of benevolence or charity, than subscribe to this institution. Let me say, that though only these three houses are to be begun to-day, yet we have money in hand for more. I only hope that you will bring in money enough to-day to pay for the land, which has cost 3,000i., and then we can go on. There is one family connected with this church whose memory is very dear to us — I mean the Olney family. They have this after- UNITY HOUSE. 187 noon given me a cheque for 500Z., for the building of a house in memory of their sainted mother. Their dear old father still survives* as our senior deacon, and may he long continue to do so ! It seems to me a delightful thing that before he is taken away, and while his sons are strong around him, they should join together in building this house in memory of their good mother. That house will be called '' Unity House,” in memory of her.’ This, then, is the story of the foundation of this charity; and the peculiar circumstances of its establish- ment render it remarkable among recent institutions, of which it can scarcely be said to be representative. That a considerable work has been accomplished, by means of the prompt and earnest response of a few persons to an appeal made for this definite object, will be obvious to any one who visits the orphanage. From the entrance at the gateway, with its little lodge at the side looking almost like the toll-house on a bridge, to the farthest of the buildings, the aspect of, the place is bright and cheerful, the air clear and salubrious. The great covered playground where some of the boys are now engaged in a game at ^ rounders,’ the series of houses, and the* dining-hall and kitchens, form two sides of a quadrangle, of which the garden and the open-air playground with its poles and bars are the central space. The buildings are of red brick with white-stone courses, each of them consisting of a basement and two stories above ; that is to say, * I believe tbe death of this gentleman has been since announced. 188 LABOURS OF LOVE. of three dormitories, with their lavatory and hath. These houses are each intended to accommodate thirty boys, who occupy them only for sleeping ; the dining- hall being the common room for meals, and the play- ground for recreation. At present the only place for in- struction is the large and lofty schoolroom, which extends over two houses on the upper floor ; hut it is desired to occupy the lower rooms of one of these houses as class-rooms as soon as another cottage can be com- pleted. As I enter the gate near the lodge-like building, which is, I believe, the surgery, where the doctor sees cases on his weekly visits, I And that I am free to walk about the grounds without question. That is to say, I lift the latch of the little wicket, and at once go up the broad path leading round to the large building on the left. As the door of this building is open, and a youthful retainer of the institution is engaged in sweeping up the path just in front of the steps, I peep in and discover that it is the dining-hall, and a very large and handsome one too ; with the kitchens adjoin- ing and communicating with it by a pair of substantial doors. In these kitchens, so convenient because of their proximity to the hall, and by reason of their being de- tached, or at any rate distinct, from the houses, and both on the ground-floor (the hall with its high roof having nothing above it), the appliances are calculated to provide for twice the number of children now in the insti- tution. Of what that provision consists I am not quite aware, VALUE OF MEAT DIET. 189 for I have no ^ dietary scale’ of the charity before me, even if there is such a document, hut doubtless some proper arrangement of this sort will he a very important regulation. I trust, and have no particular reason to doubt, that there is also a margin of paternal liberality on behalf of the inmates, who, as ‘ growing boys,’ can perhaps scarcely he called little eaters. Indeed, in all orphanges devoted to the class of children now before me, it is most desirable that a liberal diet, and even a liberal meat diet, should he one of the first advantages offered to new-comers. They should even be trained to take it healthily; not greedily, but to take rather more than would he necessary for chil- dren under some other circumstances. They are mostly in a depressed physical condition, not unfrequently suf- fering from constitutional or even hereditary feebleness, that may result in sickness or permanent weakness ; and the best economy is to feed them well on plain but nourishing diet, in which a sufficiency of fibrous flesh food is indispensable. I do not say this to call in question the probability of such a plan being already adopted ; but I am reminded of it, as I have been at other institutions, by the appearance of some of the boys — even those who are at play and seem tolerably brisk, as well as a few of those in school, and exhibit- ing an intelligent and lively interest in their lessons. The course of education will include thorough in- struction in English, with geography, history, the lower mathematics, and the rudiments of French and Latin. Drawing is also to be a feature in the school. Boys 190 LABOURS OF LOVE. are received between tlie ages of six and nine years, and remain till they are fourteen. Of the 160 children now in the institution, the average appear to be from eight to ten years of age. Application for the admission of candidates must carefully specify, on a form provided for the purpose, the name of the child, date of birth, name of parents, and place where they were married ; employment of father in his best circumstances ; to what denomination of Christians the father belonged, if any ; state of health of child, mother, and the rest of the children in the family ; and names and place of abode of three or four nearest relatives, their occupa- tions, and degrees of relationship. This application must also be signed by two persons who are ministers, deacons, elders, or active members in any Christian church. At present the committee appears to be formed of the leading members of Mr. Spurgeon’s congregation ; and indeed the institution may be said to be supported entirely through his influence. The receipts in dona- tions and subscriptions amounted to about 170L during the month from November 20th to December 17th, 1869; and a large number of offerings, consisting of articles of clothing, provisions, toys, and bedding, were also sent on behalf of the poor little fellows, who seem to have found willing and thoughtful friends in the ladies of Mr. Spurgeon’s congregation. Thus among the gifts in kind — surely among the kindliest of gifts — I notice an anonymous ^ hundred of eggs,’ ^ sack of peas,’ and half-hundred weight of sugar, GIFTS IN KIND, 191 as well as twenty-six comforters and a can of arrowroot ; while ^ Sarah’ has, as usual with most of her name, dis- played gentle housewifery in the gift of twelve shirts. These, with twelve draughtboards and men, iron hoops, pocket-handkerchiefs, braces, gloves, stockings, bags and boxes of sweets, and dolls for the Christmas-tree, are among the seasonable gifts that show how the insti- tution has a place in the hearts of its supporters. May it prosper ; and, growing beyond its present borders, help to take ^ the church’ into the world, and the world into ^ the church,’ with a wide and unrestricted meaning ! Ungenteel Poverty. I wish you to go with me to one of the oldest neighbourhoods of poverty, — a district which has not only become representative of want and misery, of little work and little food, but is also historical in its connec- tion with a remarkable colony and an important in- dustry, — a foreign invasion which was most beneficial in its results at the time, and has permanently intro- duced a new element, still to be distinguished in the quarter where the settlers took up their abode. Alas, the Spitalfields of to-day differs sadly from the fields of St. Mary ’Spital, where the French Protestant refugees founded a poor, hut skilful and cultivated, community ; and though many of the descendants of those old fami- lies have been scattered, and these who remain in the district where their fathers plied the wheel and loom are too often depressed with poverty and degraded by 192 LABOURS OF LOVE. want of education, there yet remain a kind of refine- ment and patient endurance, a dislike of riotous amuse- ments, and a constitutional sympathy with tasteful and elevating influences, which distinguish the true de- scendants of the emigres who first established the silk- weaving colony. Even in my remembrance there were green open spaces not very far from the maze of sor- did streets and stifling alleys that had grown round the original settlement. In some of the outlying cot- tages where weavers carried on their trade, the long casements of the upper rooms used as workshops looked upon small patches of garden-ground, where marigolds and double stocks and dahlias would grow and struggle into bloom, that made the house-front gay for some part of the year at all events. This was only on the farthest verge of the neighbourhood, however ; and now I know of no gardens to houses in the whole of Spital- fields, from Mile -end New Town to Brick -lane, the latter being the market of the district, — ^ Poverty Mar- ket,’ as it has been well named, and holding its own in spite of the fine’ building designed to supersede it in providing a cheap and convenient supply for the benefit of those who have only pence instead of shillings to spend. For Spitalfields is the locality of a superseded in- dustry ; a place where a dozen poor and precarious call ings are followed by people many of whom were, in their early years, connected with the trade with which that district was once identified. The ^ong lights’ of those leaden casements have POVERTY-STRICKEN. 193 ceased to quiver to the clatter of the loom ; the bird at the open window in the summer time no longer emulates the whistling of the swift shuttle as it flies between silken warp and weft. Silk-weaving is nearly at an end in London, and the remnant of those who still follow it are among the poorest and least hopeful of the dwellers in that great poverty-stricken district, which extends on the one side to Whitechapel and Mile-end, on the other to Shoreditch and Bethnal-green. It must be understood that I am not now speaking of the criminal degradation of this neighbourhood. There are several doubtful streets, and some that are by no means doubtful, the haunts of thieves, and full of that utter poverty and misery which, whatever people may think, belongs to the daily life of the professional filcher. In reality, the wretched shifts, the constantly recurring want, the desperate sense of being always in danger, and the wear and tear of such nervous tremors on a frame not well sustained by nourishing diet, render the life of a thief one of the most wretched in the whole round of poverty. In many of the dilapidated houses about the outskirts of the neighbourhood to which I wish you to accompany me — in Fashion-street, and some of the courts abutting on Whitechapel, as well as in the Nichols-streets and that foul tangle of byways that lie between Shoreditch and Bethnal-green, and are ab- jured by each — there are both thieves and receivers, the latter being occasionally publicans, or connected with publicans whose houses are a resort for customers who sell instead of buying, and do not number drunkenness 0 194 LABOURS OF LOVE. among their vices ; for who has ever seen a ^ regular’ thief in a state of intoxication ? Even the ‘ thieves' kitchens’ exist no longer ; the revels of the mock -beggars must be conducted with wonderful privacy if they have any being — in fact, they must have ceased to he revels at all ; and the Common Lodging-house Eegulation Act has made an end of those old houses which were the infamous dens that made half London terrible. The police know this, and though they affect to call some of these lodging-houses by the name of thieves’ kitchens, they do not let us know that on the wall in every bedroom of such places is a printed card, issued by the lodging-house inspector, and regulating matters of light and air and space ; that every room in such a house is visited — or should be visited — periodically by proper officials ; and that the large kitchen (often a mere cellar) where the lodgers go in to sit by the fire, or to devour such food as they take in with them, is pretty often visited by the City mis- sionary or the ragged-school superintendent. There need be no mistake, however, about the dread- ful character of many of these places. They are still dens, and wretched unclean dens, in spite of the law and the inspectors, both of which are defied by their owners. The kitchens are still thieves’ kitchens, and are the scenes, not of noisy lawless riot, but of that miserable depressed kind of amusement which is so characteristic of the London scoundrel. To spend a night in one of these places — to watch the lodgers come slinking in, and to note from some WHEEE POVERTY MEETS CRIME. 195 conveniently dark corner their melancholy dissipation, their furtive glances at every new arrival, their ironical suspicion of a new visitor, their affected cheerfulness in the presence of the police, their covert brutal selfish- ness, which would lead them to snatch a slice of bread from the hand of a starving child, — to witness all this is to get a heart full of pain and a head full of wonder ; but it is seldom that more than a quarter of the company in these places is composed of regular thieves. Poverty (ay, and honest poverty too) rubs shoulders with the worst of crime in the common lodging-house. Worse places than these are some of the wretched tenements where each of the ruined rooms is occupied by a whole family, or even by two or three families,- — houses which are never brought under the few and not very effective restrictions of the law, and where, from garret to basement, men, women, and children swarm and stifle in the foul and reeking air. It is here that poverty meets crime, and weds it. Who can wonder that, in the dull dead level of wretchedness and want, people should lose that moral sense which at first may have been sufficient to distin- guish one kind of misery from another ? If the parents are content to starve rather than steal, children soon learn to starve and steal ; for the life of the London thief alternates between these two conditions. Those who know what is the ^ worst of London,’ will tell us that it is where these wretched neighbourhoods are to be found — say in the Nichols - streets and Friars - mounts of Bethnal-green, and in the courts and alleys 196 LABOURS OF LOVE. of Spitalfields ; about Fashion - street, and that worst den of all, Little Kate-street, known to its inhabitants by the name of a lodging-house which is called the Kate, as though it deserved some especial distinction of infamy. There is, or was, little chance of the casual way- farer straying down that place ; for it was marked with a signal to show that a moral pest raged there, and passengers who might unwittingly have entered its pre- cincts were warned off by friendly constables placed on duty for the purpose. Whoever desires to see what is possible in this age of civilisation, when agricultural gangs are treated worse than plantation negroes, and the secretaries of great trades-unions hire men to com- mit murder at 151, a-head, should go (if they dare) to the Kate, and spend an evening in its most illustrative gin-shop. Is it any wonder that little criminals, ^ whose heads scarcely reach to the top of the dock,’ should be such frequent prisoners at our police-courts? Need any one be surprised to see the number of poor ragged miserable children about the streets in the City and eastward — children who, under the pretence of selling half-faded flowers or cigar-lights, hover about the skirts of respectability, and try to pilfer something from its abundance to appease the gnawing hunger which has never been fully satisfied ? These wretched children, with their old artful faces and their obscene words and cries as they scud away from the coming policeman, are amongst the terrible sights of London, and troops of them come from about that very district of which I have WHAT IS THEIR FUTURE ? 197 just been speaking. What can be the probable future of the boys ? Still more dreadful question — what is the inevitable future of the girls who come out of the courts and alleys, and show themselves in our streets to our reproach, if not to our shame ? Let it be remembered that I am now speaking of children, whose parents are so poor that, even where they exercise any regular guardianship over their little ones, every small pair of hands must learn to work at lucifer-box making, or cheap-toy making, or the light rudimentary labour of some small trade, in order to add something to the daily bread. Some of these little crea- tures, mere infants, whom, did they belong to ourselves, we should scarcely expect to know right from wrong, have a daily task to perform which precludes their being taught except at the Sunday-school ; while in hundreds of cases where there is not even this need, the children live neglected lives, or, uncared for by father-in-law or mother-in-law, are left to roam the streets, and find there a school in which they learn, with precocious ra- pidity, the lessons that fill our prisons, and make us sigh hopelessly over the figures in police statistics. But while we wait and sigh the girls are growing daily into women, and swiftly and surely must we reap the evil harvest of neglect and indifference if more be not done for them. Something has been done ; but it is as the thresh- ing out of a single sack of grain when whole fields lie ready in the sun. Still, let us be thankful that we have been shown the way. First, by that great organisation 198 LABOURS OF LOVE. the Eagged School, which has spread out branches on every side for the relief of all kinds of distress. Secondly, by the energetic action of those who saw that, amidst all the depressing poverty and crime, and in spite of the wretched condition in which the people lived, there was a hope of redeeming living souls from that daily death — a way of transplanting young children from the foul fever-beds, or plucking them from the contamination of the streets, and so renewing their child-lives that they might grow up fresh and beautiful in the garden of God. Daisies in Spitalfields. In this vast neighbourhood one building stands out from its sordid surroundings, a striking example of what might be, if only the great London public could be made to see its deep necessity. Who has not seen that drop of water in the gas microscope — that one single drop of water, of which one rapid glimpse makes us recoil in horror, and go home to order a filter ? Were it possible to flash upon the mental sight of the public a single glance of what one girl -child’s life is, and will be, amongst the poor and depraved in Spitalfields and Whitechapel, we should all cry out to build a dozen more moral filters like the Oirls' Refuge in Albert-street, and should take a more lively personal influence in a work intended to save our country from pestilence. Alas, this sight has been given but to a few ; so that the one building, amidst all that teeming population, is not yet completed, and more buildings of the same kind are needed in order to carry on the work so successfully THE DAY OF SMALL THINGS. 199 begun, not by holding out a premium to negligent and even criminally indifferent parents, but by admitting those children who are now actually destitute, either through the desertion or the death of those on whom they were dependent. Twenty years ago this labour of love was begun by some ardent and yet patient gentlemen associated with Mr. H. R. Williams, the present treasurer of the insti- tution. The commencement of the work was the forma- tion of a ragged school in a dilapidated stable, the first building that could be procured ; and after such sani- tary improvements as could be effected were completed, that stable — not unsuggestive of a certain manger ^ wherein the Infant lay’ — was opened for instruction to the children and some of the grown people of the neigh- bourhood. There is no need to tell how the school grew into an infiuence ; how by degrees funds were accumulated, and the first stone of the King Edward Ragged and Industrial Schools and Eastern Refuge in Albert-street, Brick-lane, was laid ; how on the site of the stable a ragged church arose, where above a hundred boys assemble as a day-school, and where a congrega- tion, less ragged perhaps than the first attendants, now go on Sunday evenings to hear something of God’s love for them, having become not the less ready to believe it, inasmuch as they have learned a little of the love of their fellow-men. Let those who would see what may be done for the ‘ worst of London’ pay a visit to the Re- fuge itself, for it is of the Refuge for girls that I now wish more particularly to speak. 200 LABOURS OF LOVE. If the ordinary conditions of life in such a locality as that I have referred to are so distressing, it may be supposed that in times of exceptional poverty, and espe- cially in times of epidemic sickness, they demand our utmost sympathy ; and that fresh efforts must be made even partially to alleviate the misery that appeals for immediate aid. It was under these circumstances that the supporters of the King Edward Eagged Schools found themselves called upon to provide for the most urgent wants of the people by whom they were immedi- ately surrounded. The stable had been repaired, the Eagged and In- dustrial School had been opened under the presidency of Lord Shaftesbury, and a band of earnest teachers and district-visitors set themselves to the work of improving the condition of the neighbourhood. Nobody who is acquainted with the value to the owners of the filthy and neglected tenements that dis- grace this portion of the Great City will wonder that when those improvements included the demand for better drainage and increased means of cleanliness and decency, the opposition of those who had ‘ vested rights’ in the continuance of things as they were, was aroused; and an organised attempt was made to close the schools, by putting every possible impediment in the way of their success. With a patient determination and persever- ance that did them credit, the committee held out ; and at length succeeded by an appeal to the Board of Health in obtaining not only the draining but the paving of a large part of the district. EARLY DIFFICULTIES. 201 This was so sensible a beginning that, accompanied as it was with house-to-house visitation, and the distri- bution of as much food and clothing as they could obtain funds to purchase, the pioneers of the movement found themselves able to organise a system of relief during that dreadful visitation of cholera which left so many poor homes desolate. Meanwhile the schoolhouse itself, fast declining to its original ruinous condition was not only insufficient for the pupils, but was surrounded with filthy yards, the receptacles of all kinds of refuse. In the words of the report, as genial and cheerful as it is brief in its record of these early difficulties, ‘ the miasma produced by accumulated filth which some of these [yards] contained was most prejudicial to the health of the teachers, more especially as ^^our neighbours were partial to pigs.” It became necessary, therefore, to do one of two things : either to build new schools on the site then occupied on a short lease, or to obtain pre- mises better suited to the pressing wants of the locality. The former was beset with difficulties ; and after a pro- longed search, the latter was given up in despair. The attention of the committee was at length directed to a plot of freehold ground, in the immediate vicinity, then for sale, a part of which was ultimately purchased for 600 L ; and a large, commodious, and substantially built edifice of three fioors was erected without delay.’ In order to reach this building, — surely one of the most interesting edifices in London, — the visitor may proceed by way of Aldgate to Whitechapel, and so down 202 LABOUBS OF LOVE. the street opposite the church; or from Bishopsgate along Union-street directly towards Spitalfields, and by way of Crispin-street and Brown’s-lane ; or from Shoreditch down the new Commercial- street to the same point. By any of these routes we soon recognise the evidences of poverty: the general silence; the neglected appearance of the dwellings ; the doors half-open, or only fastened by a latch lifted from the outside by pulling a bobbin hanging by a string, and often leading at once to the foot of a steep stair going up on one side, in the fashion of some of the houses in old French towns. Nay, some of the houses of the old French folk still remain — dila- pidated structures with wooden fronts and peaked roofs, where the click of the loom and the hum of the wheel are no longer heard, though perhaps the tenant has a French name, as many of the people have hereabouts. Let us go down Montague-street — anybody will tell us where that is — then keep to the left, and in another turn we shall find ourselves in Albert-street, standing in a tolerably open space before a brick building, which might be a church, or a modern dispensary, or a school, or a rifle-brigade assembly-room. So little does it suggest its real purpose at first sight, that we look about for some direction, and are only reassured by the ready fingers of half-a-dozen wistful urchins, who wonder that anybody can be so ignorant as not to see at once that the board before their noses proclaims the ^ King Ed- ward Bagged School and Girls’ Eefuge.’ But it is more than this. Before we reach the top of the stone steps leading from the side entrance of the A HOLIDAY OCOASION. 203 building, we hear such shrill shouting, singing, and merriment as should do our hearts good ; and there on the left, in a large square paved yard, are two score little ones, mostly girls, running, dancing round in rings to some merry tune, and evidently in the high tide of the play-hour : members of the Infant Bagged School, as you may see if you look at that corner, where a dozen tiny tots are marching in single file, each with a firm clutch on the skirt before him. Turn to the right through this high door, and you will be in the school itself — a large and lofty hall, where 300 children assemble, the elder of them being girls ; the younger or infant section both girls and boys. What is it that you first observe in entering this room, with its broad ^gallery’ full of little chubby infant scholars ; its long rows of desks, where girls — very few, if any, of whom are ragged, though many are poorly dressed — bright and intelligent, and mostly clean, and with a hopeful look in their eyes, are now engaged in writing from dictation ? It is somewhat of a holiday occasion to-day, for a few ladies have come down to see the schools, bringing with them a number of packages of clothing, made by themselves and some of their kind-hearted friends, in lei- sure hours devoted to this useful work. These packages, each containing two or three comfortable garments, are ticketed for distribution to the most necessitous cases, and of course consist only of articles of dress for girls or children. It is a holiday occasion ; but as I have been here before quite unexpectedly, as anybody may go who 204 LABOURS OF LOVE. chooses to pay the place a visit, I may mention that there has been no preparation. The governess, with her patient thoughtful manner, the assistants, who know how to direct the little creatures crowding on the ‘ gallery’ without noise and bustle, are evidently quite at home, and for that matter so are the children them- selves. The Kev. Mr. William Tyler is here; but there is nothing to disturb them in his kind face. It would indeed he strange to them if he were not to look in and see them nearly every day, though he has large day and infant schools adjoining his own handsome chapel, be- side Sunday and ragged schools elsewhere ; over all of which his personal but not interfering supervision serves to keep them united in lively sympathy, and to make the work go on in cheerful response to his own bright and genial temper. It is hard to write of any indivi- dual in connection with these pages without seeming to overstep the hounds of that courtesy of which Mr. Tyler himself is an example ; but I cannot refrain from saying here that his constant, active, cheerful, and genial presence is one of the mainsprings of the various works in this so long neglected neighbourhood. He is always to be found at some point within poverty’s radius; brightening it, and diffusing even among these little children the indescribable influence of a Christian gentleman, whose manner to his little ragged friends is as indicative of refinement as it is of tender sym- pathy. Standing just now, and with a genial humour trying to pose a whole school of eager spellers with some out- MELODIES OF OLD TIMES. 205 of-the-way though simple word, he reminds us of some high-bred French cure of the old regime, friend and bishop of this great number of young souls. The fancy is not altogether unwarranted. For hark! the fresh young voices rise at a note from the teacher, and sing one of their ordinary school-songs. Perhaps I may be pardoned — as having a very definite personal connection with the old refugees — for feeling a kind of thrill when I note that it is to a French tune. Another and another yet, and still the melodies recall those old half-forgotten times when the first emigj'es sang such airs as they wrought in their looms. A lady standing near, with tears glistening in her eyes, is actually sing- ing with the children, but putting the tune to the old French words. On the books of this school there are 304 girls and 196 infants ; while at the ragged church, during the week-days, 120 boys are instructed in reading, writing, and arithmetic ; and large and fiourishing Sunday- schools are held morning, afternoon, and evening, with 70 children over fifteen years of age, 42 young men and women in the Bible-classes, and 350 children on the register. As many as 437 have been present at the Sunday-evening school at one time. Then there is a penny bank, a lending library of 347 volumes sadly in need of replenishing, and a be- nevolent fund for relieving sick and destitute children, to which the committee implore contributions, either in money, food, or clothing. True to its character as a centre of benevolent effort 206 LABOUKS OF LOVE. (which they hold to be the true work of every ragged school), during the last visitation of cholera in Spital- fields and the locality, the committee made immediate arrangements for administering relief by house-to-house visitation, the means being principally supplied by the Mansion-House fund. 342 houses, containing 1,100 families, were visited constantly during the whole time of the visitation ; in this number 340 cholera cases oc- curred (8 in one house), resulting in 53 deaths. To these families were distributed l,4491bs. of meat, 693 Ihs. of rice, 628 lbs. of potatoes, 414 loaves of bread, 23 gal- lons of beef-tea, 21 gallons of port-wine, gallons of brandy, 56 lbs. of arrowroot, 65 lbs. of sugar, 310 yards of flannel, 265 yards of calico, 58 blankets, 2 sets of bedding, 70 pairs of hoots, and about 250 articles of clothing. It is to the Eefuge for girls that we intended to devote this visit, however; and what we have already seen is a cheering introduction to that institution. The presence of the large day-schools, the meetings, and the active human interests that cluster round this building, are of the greatest benefit to the inmates who bear their pai4 in them ; though they, of course, occupy a separate schoolroom, and are engaged in learning those household duties which are to fit them for becom- ing domestic servants. You may go far before you see twenty such neat, ruddy, intelligent-looking girls as these now sewing at the long tables in their schoolroom, under the superin- tendence of the governess. They have most of them EESCUED ! 207 been rescued from destitution, some of them from the threatening shadow of crime, young as they are, and the eldest is not more than fifteen, while the majority are much younger. Eeading, writing, arithmetic, scriptural knowledge, and needlework (some of which, I am told by compe- tent judges, is admirably neat and skilful), are the' sub- jects taught ; but, beside that, the whole house is kept clean, the laundry -work carried on, and the general domestic duties are performed by the girls in succes- sion. This schoolroom, which is next the kitchen and dining - room in the basement of the building, is ^ as clean as a new pin;’ as are also the dormitories, where the beds, on iron bedsteads, are covered with crimson rugs as counterpanes. The lavatory, where each girl has a compartment in a large press for her clothes and bonnet, is also used as a meeting-room occasionally; and the principal teacher has for her bedroom only a partitioned corner in the same apartment, so greatly are they cramped for space. The committee soon hope that this want will be remedied by the completion of the building ; and as soon as the necessary funds are obtained, a three-story wing will be added, comprising a more commodious schoolroom, a room for the gover- ness or the matron, and an extra ward. Till this is done, they are compelled to refuse applications for want of room ; and though they hope that the required l,200i. will be forthcoming during the present year, they have hitherto shrunk from making any strenuous appeals outside their own circle. 208 LABOUKS OF LOVE. These pages are not intended as such an appeal. I have been hither and thither, as much in the capacity of a doubtful inquirer as in that of an admirer ; and I have no personal interest in any particular institution beyond that which naturally proceeds from the convic- tion that a real labour of love is being carried on by its active supporters. I wish, however, that I could point to numerous charitable efforts the intentions of which were as simply, as cheerfully, and as completely se- cured as in this Girls’ Eefuge in Spitalfields. From first to last it is a good and useful work, and there are evidences in the place itself that it is admirably man- aged : in the progress of these children ; in the facts that there have been received, educated, clothed, fed, and placed out at service, above 300 girls since the institution was established; that not half the applica- tions for servants can be entertained, so well do they credit their training ; that they are neat, clean, and so healthy, even in that comparatively close neighbour- hood, that the last report had not one case of serious illness to record ; while the matron declares the be- haviour of the girls to be very good, order being ^ kept cheerfully.’ I will not again run the risk of discourtesy, which I find it so difficult to escape, except by saying that the matron herself well represents that particular element of cheerful order which is the characteristic of the place ; and that it only requires to see her and speak to her to discover that she possesses that invaluable quality in all who fill her arduous position — a strong sense of CHEEKFUL ORDER. 209 humour. Those of my readers who have had any ex- perience in such institutions will know how much this has to do both with easy authority and unflagging interest. On Sundays the girls of the refuge join their little brothers and sisters in the large room, where they ^ all attend Sunday - school together ; and it is re- markable how many of the faces here have a refined character, distinguishing them, to a close observer, from the • general appearance of children in the same class of life. It is equally apparent in the refuge itself, where some of the little maids carry in their counte- nances the marks of ^ family descent.’ I cannot let you go without referring for a moment to Mr. Matthew Arnold’s (the government inspector) report of the day-schools, after his examination of them last year : ^ This and the (little) boys’ school connected with it are, perhaps, the most trying schools for teachers I know. The great numbers, and the mass of infants, make this an even more trying school than the boys’ school. ‘ A classroom for the infants ought really to be provided. ^ Miss Dunkinson’s perseverance and management merit the highest praise. ^ The Kinder-Garten operations have been introduced for the boys, while the girls sew.’ I may also whisper in your ear that Mr. H. E. Williams, the Treasurer, and Mr. J. H. Lloyd, the p 210 LABOURS OF LOVE. Hon. Secretary, are both to be found at 3 Lime-street, City. And now, before we part, let me remind you to send visitors to see what is being done — to note these daisies of the old Spitalfields, who seem by their ruddy cheeks and lightened eyes, and, above all, by the indescribable change of expression which has somehow come into their faces, to have been called to newness of life. Tell your friends to walk hither and thither about the large schoolroom, where the teachers are at work amidst hun- dreds of young souls all eager for instruction ; and pay a visit to the airy yard, where about thirty little chubby ^tots,’ more or less in want of apparel, are assembled in robust play at an /infant ragged school.’ The jour- ney will be worth something : it will expand the heart, bring a well of living water to the eyes which will purge them of such selfish films as too soon gather on our sight in the round of daily personal cares ; and if it should tend to open the purse also, it will be well ; for let us remember the solemn tenderness of that declara- tion, ‘ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of these little ones, ye have done it unto Me.’ CHAPTEE II. everybody’s children. Juvenile Vagrants — Known to the Police — The Advan- tage of becoming a Thief — There and back again — From School to College — ^ Wild Boys of London ' — The DeviVs Primers— Last ^ Newgate Calendar ' — The Unions that empty the Gaols — Sheer Destitu- tion — Homeless but not Nameless — Polynomination — Sensational Appeals and spasmodic Responses — The most terrible Sight in the World — A Cure for some of London's Curses — Heave Ho! — The noblest Ship on the silent Highway — A neiv Land Question — Over Seas — Brother Jonathan' s long Arm and warm Heart — Two Dinner-Parties in two Great Cities — Absent Friends — Soho-way — Newport Market — A Club-Token — Little Sisters — Lost! — A dark Door in the ‘ Dog Row' — Homeless and Nameless — Rescue and Rest — The Woodhouse Dovecot. If the question, ^ What shall we do with our roughs ?’ is difficult to answer in reference to the adult criminals of the metropolis, it offers a still less soluble problem if we include among the ‘ dangerous classes’ those juvenile 212 LABOURS OF LOVE. vagrants wlio are graduating in ruffianism, and even- tually join the ranks of the recognised felons. The difficulty in their case is greater, inasmuch as they can- not as a rule be classified ; and the law which commits the miserable little street Arab who pilfers an apple from a market-basket, or picks up an oyster that has fallen from a porter’s sack, to the same punishment which awaits the most forward pupil of some school for youthful pickpockets, gives us few data for any metho- dical calculation. Of the thousands of wretched children who every year pass through our metropolitan prisons — many of them to he re-committed for a more glaring offence as they improve upon the lessons taught them by the law itself — it is certain that a large proportion are scarcely responsible for the crime which has brought them before the magistrate. They are a drifting, destitute part of the floating population, living anyhow, sleeping anywhere, moved on, moved off, eating any kind of refuse when they are hungry, begging when they cannot afford to spend two- pence on a few boxes of cigar-lights as their stock-in- trade. Sometimes they are employed by male or female cadgers, who furnish them with lucifer - matches or bunches of faded flowers, and set them to whine for alms in the more frequented thoroughfares, watching from some remote corner, to which they are compelled to take their gains every hour, and where they receive a scanty scrap of food and the promise of a sack of shavings in the corner of a foul room] where they may rest their weary little limbs for the night. KNOWN TO THE POLICE. 213 Of two facts these destitute creatures are always conscious — that they are sure to he hungry to-morrow ; and that nobody would give them work to do even if they knew how to do it. They live under a perpetual sense of being a super- fluous part of the universe. ^ The mother who left them long ago to the tender mercies of the streets, the unknown father who deserted her or died in some hospital ward, never revealed to them that they were outlawed by society from their very birth; hut the knowledge that they are suspected, hunted, perpetually warned off from the very influences of respectability, neglected, starved, tempted to crime, and finally caught and sent to prison, grows with their growth and ripens with their years. The first remarkable stage of this knowledge is that they are of no importance whatever until they become known as criminals. Let society, in the shape of the police and the representatives of law and justice, once recognise them as hardened offenders, and they are treated with a consideration which, had it been accorded to them while they were innocent and merely destitute, might have done them and the State some service. The prisoner, whose head scarcely reaches to the top of the dock, finds some sense of personal dignity swelling his infant breast when he hears that he has been long ^ known’ to that body of stalwart men to whom the care of the Great City is intrusted. He knows very little himself except that, for the few years that he can remember, he has slept under arches, 214 LABOURS OF LOVE. in the markets, and beneath deserted doorways ; and on rare occasions has paid twopence for a bed at a common lodging-house, where he learned a little of his probable future, and was taught how to matriculate for the career upon which he has entered. We have not long done wondering at the deeds of a band of young desperadoes who have been infesting the neighbourhood of Kent- street under a leader sixteen years old. The police, active and intelligent as they are, and authorised to per- form all sorts of arduous and sometimes contradictory functions, acknowledged themselves baffled by this com- pany of mere boy thieves, and with difflculty succeeded in capturing their commander. What lesson could be taught to the thousands of ignorant destitute lads who are to be found in London streets that would be half so potent to induce them to set the law at defiance ? They may be hunted hither and thither, moved on from doorways, refused at workhouse gates, warned away from tradesmen’s counters, cuffed off the pavements lest they should injure the respectability of the shoe-black brigade — kicked hither and thither, like the worthless things they are, until they break the law more definitely than by mere vagabondage. Once pass the boundary of mere petty pilfering, and they become persons of con- sideration, with no heavier punishment and a more ample diet than the smaller offence would involve, and with all the circumstances of their lives made comparatively easy : warm lodging, tolerable food, comfortable clothes, and even the elements of that education to which they have hitherto had no claim, and which comes to them THE BLOT ON THE SYSTEM. 215 now as a part of the premium for which they have aban- doned their absurd desire to belong to the society which never tolerates them until it can formally cast them out. Talk of the literature of crime — of the penny num- bers containing the histories of boy highwaymen and pirates, and smuggler kings in their teens ! This sort of cheap trash is pernicious enough, no doubt, and I shall have to refer to it in another place ; but it is only hurt- ful where the soil has already been prepared for its re- ception, and it falls into utter insignificance beside the acknowledgments of the police and the evidence of the depredations committed by the Kent-street gang. ^ Send me to a reformatory,’ said the captain of this redoubtable band to the magistrate. But he was too old for either of the four Government reformatories, which deal only with boys who are convicted of crime ; and probably there was no vacancy; since the care of the State, even for the juvenile criminal, does not exhibit itself in reformatories so much as in penal discipline ; and the results of penal discipline may be estimated by the numbers of the criminal population which float in and out of our prisons. The establishment of reforma- tory institutions for young offenders is perhaps a duty of the State ; but more than that is required. The blot upon our whole present system is, that no claim can be made on behalf of any wretched child whose home is the streets, whose companions are many of them the worst class of the community, until he shall have broken the law in a manner so marked that he becomes an ob- ject of interest. 216 LABOUKS OF LOVE. In some neighbourhoods of London this boy-and-girl population, which is continually, as it were, on the bor- ders of crime, may be constantly observed. In Club- row on a Sunday morning ; in the neighbourhood of Spitalfields, where a labour-market is held under a rail- way arch, and juveniles wait in a kind of revolting sta- tute-fair to be hired by the week to help weavers at their work ; about Friars-mount and Old Nichols-street ; in Southwark, in Westminster, and a dozen districts which should be marked black in any missionary map of Lon- don, — you may listen to their foul words and see their crouching shuddering bodies, their wasted limbs and old-young faces ; worn with the want of food, and the wild wistful wonder of how they are to keep on living, or whether it would be better to die. What can be done with these ? At present it seems that only voluntary effort can effect anything for them, and even such effort is useless unless it can bring itself into immediate connection with its objects. There are thousands of these hopeless, des- titute children of the State in London alone ; and only voluntary benevolent institutions deal with them on the broad principle of free and immediate admission to a refuge, where they may enter upon a better life — where they may be first fed ,and clothed, and may rest their poor worn little bodies and start from their broken sleep with the unwonted shock of a kind word ; and then may learn to work and to play, and so be taken out of that bad dream of life, and enter on a reality worth living for. It is by institutions like the Eefuges for Homeless WHAT CAN BE DONE ? 217 Children, of which I have presently to speak, that we may hope to mitigate some of these evils by beginning with the children. But we want half-a-dozen ships, a score of homes, to rescue these young vagrants from the streets, and prevent them from growing up into abandoned women and desperate lawless men. Known to the Police. The relation between the juvenile criminals of Lon- don and the police is peculiar, since it would appear that the chances of a hoy-thief matriculating for a career of crime, and ultimately taking honours in burglary or highway robbery, depends very much upon the estima- tion in which he is held by those members of ^ the force’ who happen to be acquainted with his companions. After a long and not altogether careless study of the police-reports during some years, most people would have a suspicion that, as adult experienced thieves are left till they are ^ wanted’ — which is as much as to say that small operations are passed over until the perpe- trators are guilty of some more striking offence that will take them to the sessions and insure a sentence of penal servitude — so the juvenile depredator who is be- lieved to be working with a gang, or to he under the influence of some principal who employs him, is appa- rently left unnoticed until he can he convicted of direct complicity with some important offence, or boldly goes in for a more startling piece of business on his own account. 218 LABOURS OF LOVE. I am now speaking, it must be remembered, of known thieves, and not of that juvenile floating popula- tion which includes the street Arab, the itinerant match- seller, the wretched little mudlark who begs and whines and turns catherine-wheels in the dirt, and huddles at night in the most painful form of human wretchedness under the arches of the railways, in the recesses of the bridges, or in the parks, where his half- naked body stands a chance of being trodden on by some late passer- by, who feels a thrill run through him to note a human being wriggling on the ground, or stealthily slinking away into the shadows of the trees. These, of course, furnish numerous recruits to the ranks of the young thieves who infest our thorough- fares, and the condition of their lives makes it difficult indeed for them to hold themselves aloof from the in- fluences that impel them to crime. Say that they are independent in their hunger and poverty, and contrive to beg or steal enough to And them in a meal ; yet there are plenty of opportunities for petty pilfering ; and it takes but a short time to learn the lesson, that the greater the magnitude of the crime the better, in all re- spects that they deem essential, is the prison life of the convict. Truly the love of liberty must be the strongest pas- sion in the human heart, or it would be difficult to un- derstand why the enormous juvenile criminal population of London, added to the army of wretched and starving children which mocks our civilisation and our religious professions, should not all claim the only birthright we SCATTER THEM ! 219 allow them by qualifying for the ^ penitentiary’ and the gaol ! It would, perhaps, he idle to complain of this state of things, since the children that infest our streets are many of them the property of abandoned men and wo- men, who are only occasionally their parents, and by their means contrive to subsist without work. Watch at a street-corner, where half-a-dozen ragged little shivering wretches huddle on a muddy night and strive to sell their cigar-lights, or to beg for halfpence in the gutter, and you shall see a weedy woman, with a moist and watery — or rather a gin-and-pepperminty — eye not far off in the shadow of some wall or the re- cess of a deserted doorway. Keep a sharp look-out where two or three bare-legged girls and hoarse urchins fight in the roadway for the right to sweep the mud over foot-passengers with a broom-stump, on the pre- tence of making a clean crossing, and you will discover a vulpine-faced old scoundrel in shiny threadbare black, and with an expression of evil humility, keeping watch from the nearest tavern-door on the chance halfpence that are scattered among these wretched little Ishmael- ites, before the constable, turning that way on his beat, scatters them, yelling and whooping, amidst the car- riage-wheels. It is the constable’s duty to scatter them, for they represent an evil influence, a vile example ; they are a keen and almost unbearable reproach to our boasted enlightenment, a deadly sarcasm on our ortho- doxy and high moral example to other nations of the earth. Of course the practice of clearing away these 220 LABOURS OF LOVE. offences to public propriety involves an injustice, the weight of which is scarcely to he estimated except by an accident which calls public attention to facts that have some relation to the difficulty experienced by the poor in gaining their daily bread. In the profound and irresponsible wisdom of the high- est police authority (an authority, be it observed, which seems as little amenable to parliamentary questioning as it is to the strongest expression of public opinion) costermongers and itinerant vendors were not long ago forbidden the streets. Such startling results followed, and the revelations of the probable consequences were so alarming, that, for once, the unquestionable sagacity permitted a little relaxation of its edict ; but the edict itself was but an extension — a very enormous extension, perhaps — of a system that has been long pursued in the principal thoroughfares ; not only in the City, where it is strictly applied to adult vendors of fruit, flowers, or cheap pennyworths ; but almost all over London (except in the streets where poverty flnds its market), in the case of wretched boys and girls who are allowed neither to buy nor sell. All honour to those noble institutions which, amongst their earliest efforts, organised the shoe-black brigade ! I would not be supposed even to hint a depreciation of the results, or of the mode of drill- ing that corps of lads rescued from misery; still, it must have occurred to dozens of us to ask. What chance has the poorly -clad little vagabond who con- trives to start a boot-cleaning apparatus of three bits of board and a half- worn brush or two against the HUNTED DOWN ! 221 member of the brigade in uniform, and with an elabo- rate institution of blacking, and a stand all decorated with brass-headed nails, and bad coppers impaled as a warning to evil-doers ? What chance has any boy or girl, who, once becom- ing known to the police as the ^ companion of thieves’ — as though they could choose their company, poor little wretches! — is thereafter prevented even from the pre- tension of earning an honest living ? Proceeding on the principle that every juvenile out- sider is to be suspected of guilt until he can prove his innocence, what chance has the miserable child ? De- serted by its natural protectors ; used as a medium for obtaining an easy income by infamous cadgers, who spend the coppers of a band of infantine beggars, in the luxury of drink ; hunted from post to pillar ; driven to share the very offal of the streets with the hungry dogs that go about masterless ; left to lie down and sleep any- where out of the keen cutting wind, or the night rain that soaks their rags and gives them another gnawing pain besides that of hunger — what chance has the Lon- don Arab, ^ known to the police,’ except the one that converts him into the ^well-known juvenile thief on whom the constable has had his eye for some time past’ ? The threepence that he spends some bitter night for a bed at a ^ common lodging-house’ may introduce him to an instructor, who will ^ make a man of him’ — such a man as fills our convict prisons, and helps to tax us beyond what we can bear, and scandalises our whole social sys- tem, and is at once our terror and our despair. There 222 LABOUKS OF LOVE. is an individual now in London, if he be not lately dead, who is ready to make half-a-dozen such men out of six boys with sharp eyes and nimble fingers. He has, or had, a gang of them under his paternal control ; and being a benevolent old gentleman, like the late Mr. Fagin, is known by the name of ‘ Father.’ It was in a common lodging-house that I first heard of him — a common lodging-house which the police call a ^ thieves’ kitchen,’ and affect to speak of as a place rather dangerous to visit, but a place where the regulations of the lodging- house inspectors hang on the walls, and which can only be described as a perilous haunt on the same principle that, according to Selden, led the old Crusaders to paint the Saracens’ heads with ferocious looks as they ap- peared on ancient signboards, in order ‘ to ‘gain credit to themselves.’ ^ You are well acquainted with the Bible ?’ said I, to a slender, shrewd, delicate-looking, closely-cropped lad in a ragged school, who could repeat verse after verse from the New Testament in illustration of my questions. ^ Well, yes, sir ; you see, we don’t have nothing much else to read where I’ve been,’ was his reply. ^ Isn’t it a great pity, knowing so much of it as you do, that you don’t try to live as it teaches you ?’ ‘ Well, you see, sir, that’s just where it is with all on us, ain’t it ?’ Is the reader s-urprised that I felt this retort as a fearful rebuke, not to myself alone, hut to that ^ society’ of which I was hut a member — the honest or ‘ respect- able’ class ? I will only give the reason for my feeling THE lad’s retort. 223 as though I had received a blow from that thin, little, supple hand. You can think of all it means, and that will be as good as a sermon. The hoy had learnt to read in prison as a child, and had been -so often com- mitted that he had the New Testament almost by— rote ! There is no need to follow such a lad as this in his career, from the trifling theft to the regular trade of filching, and so on to petty larceny, robbery, burglary, or the various degrees of crime, in which he has no lack of preceptors, in and out of prison, where he costs us more than if w^e had sent him to a good public school till he had acquired ^the usual branches of English education.’ Eegarded as part of the mere question of profit and loss in the national account, as fractions in the sum of political economy, what an awful row of integers do he and his like represent ! What when we think of him as a living soul — one of the children of the State — of everybody’s children ? But there are other boys — boys who have grown beyond mere children, and though known to the police, have not yet been actually registered as thieves. It is only those who know the darkest shadows of the Great City and its suburbs who can tell what lives some of these wretched creatures lead. Those who know it best, and know too of what they might be capable, are ready to weep bitter tears at the thought, but know not how to set about the remedy. There is so much courage and endurance, such activity and shrewdness — call it cunning, if you like; shrewd- ness is often only cunning developed to higher action — ay, and there is often so much honesty and truthfulness^ 224 LABOURS OF LOVE. where you least expect to find either, that we must be blind indeed not to see that one hope for the future of England lies among these very outcasts, whom we are so rapidly training to he a curse to the city that fears to bless them, lest some should cry ^centralisation,' and others ^secularism,’ and others, again, ^priestcraft.’ Wliile I am busy over these sheets, a strange dis- covery is made — that beneath an unfinished arch, de- serted in progress of building by a dubious railway company, a band of boys has been discovered, whose depredations in the neighbourhood have for some time been notorious. Singularly enough the police-officers, who at last contrived to disperse this association of juve- nile thieves, keep alive the report that their place of concealment had been for some time suspected and watched. We all want to know why? Was it for the humane purpose of obtaining a longer sentence, and so a better provision, for the wretched young criminals ; or are the active and intelligent officers unwilling to let us think that they could be outwitted by such novices, or to leave us to suspect that the deserted railway arch was no part of any constable’s beat ? It is only now and then that some sudden revelation of the lives of these ^ wild boys of London’ reaches us, even through the press : a few of us know a little about it, and are less surprised than others ; but there are hundreds of quiet, well-to-do, easy-going folks — jogging on day by day, and marking a stage on each day’s journey by a comfortable meal — who know nothing of this phase of the Great City in which they dwell, and A TERKIBLE STORY. 225 yet stare with horror at the account of a family in Devon- shire living a sort of secluded savage life in a ruinous cottage, and refusing either to go to church or to be visited by the parson ; returning all such civilities by pelting anxious inquirers with dirt. Supposing some of them happened to take up a newspaper on the 9th of last September, I wonder what they really thought of this : ‘ Yesterday Dr. Lankester held an inquiry upon the bodies of two boys, aged respectively nine and a half and twelve, who were found suffocated in a brick-kiln in Holloway. The first boy was named Alfred George Triggs, whose father, a respectable man living in Ken- sington, was called. He stated the deceased went away on the 25th ult. from home, taking with him 11. 105. Qd., which he had stolen from a drawer, and witness heard no more of him until he saw the body the previous day. James Strid said he was the man in charge of the brick- kiln where the calamity occurred, and it was in the Hornsey-road. He then described in a light off-handed manner the way in which the calamity was discovered, and in doing so opened up a terrible story of life among boys. He saw something on the kiln, and getting on a heap of ballast he saw the something to be two boys. A ladder was brought, and their bodies were recovered. How could the boys get up there Why, they climbed up there as they would climb anywhere — in at your win- dow, over your hedges, where they would ^ nick’ [steal] the taters, or apples, or onions, or anything else, and roast them in the kiln. As to stopping them, it was Q 226 LABOURS OF LOVE. impossible ; they ran like hares. The boy who had ^ nicked’ the money from his father (Triggs) had been there a little time; but there were twenty altogether in the fields, and the second boy (whose name was said to be Joy) had been about there all the summer.” How did they live ?” By the taters they nicked and roasted in the kiln. They could cook anything in the kiln as well as in an oven. The boys had not been there more than one night, or else they would have been ‘ frizzled’ more.” Medical testimony was then given that both boys had been suffocated on the kiln, and their bodies scorched by the heat. There was no food in the stomach of either boy, but there was undigested vegetable food in the large intestines of both. Potatoes were found in their pockets. Some testimony was then brought to prove the name of the second boy, whose parents were said to have lived in Cottenham-road, Upper Holloway, and to have gone away hopping” a long time ago, leav- ing the boy to his own devices. The boy, it is said, took to sweeping a crossing in Holloway, and roosting,” as he was said to have termed it, on and about the kiln, in the open air, at some periods of the year, and in empty houses at other seasons. A verdict of accidental death was returned.’ What could have given the first bad impulse to the poor wretched child, Alfred George Triggs, aged nine and a half, whose connection with these wild boys of Lon- don led to his' death ? We are not obliged to guess ; but doubtless if he could read, and we were to make inquiry, we should be told that he had been led into evil com- 4 VILE LITERATUKE. 227 panionship by the influence of some of those ^ penny numbers’ which are printed and sold as romances for boys, and almost invariably have two or three criminals for their heroes. I may mention here, that I believe more has been made of this as an excuse by demoralised boys them- selves than will quite bear out investigation. Mr. James Greenwood, in his Seven Curses of London, has well indicated how sharp youthful convicts are at catching up and taking advantage of pet theories held by go- vernors of prisons ; and I am inclined to think, that while the evils of this criminal literature are undoubtedly wide-spread and mischievous, they are less definite than might be supposed from the ^ confessions’ of depraved boy - thieves — confessions, alas, too often founded on what the penitents (?) think their listeners would like to hear. Having said this much, I may add that the pernicious influence of such publications in deadening the percep- tion between right and wrong, and in making the con- templation of crime less repulsive because of its specious veil of romance, cannot for a moment be doubted ; at the same time that the whole tone of a boy’s moral nature is debased and his imagination degraded by the vicious and yet absurd narratives that appear in these publica- tions. say, Joe, ha’ you read the last o’ the Boy Smug- gler V 'Yes — leastways I b’lieve so.’ ' About where he’s in the cave ?’ 228 LABOURS OF LOVE. ^ Yes, ain’t that fine! But ha’ you read that other fine hook — what d’yer call it ? — Red Hand, ain’t it ?’ ^ Ah, ain’t that good 1’ ^ I h’lieve yer ; specially where he stabs the other one, and says, They may hang me,” he says ; ^^hut I’ve kep’ my word, an’ killed the cove and says he. Red Hand /” 0, ain’t that fine 1’ This conversation I overheard not very long ago be- tween two hoys, to the edification of a third. I have no reason to think that they were dishonest ; they were both known to me by sight, and were as usual standing about a railway station in the chance of obtaining a bag to carry, or a message to deliver, or any casual job that would bring a penny or twopence ; out of which it seems even they could spare an occasional halfpenny for the pernicious trash of which they spoke. I doubt whether they had not already learned to swear by reading these Devil’s Primers ; and certainly the frequent recurrence of the ugly word for which I have substituted a was directly referable to the stimulus of the unhealthy ex- pletives put into the mouths of the fictitious personages on whom they had learned to found their heroical style of declamation. It is now more than four years since I first endea- voured to draw attention to the abuse of which I am speaking, and others have ably taken up the subject ; but the evil remains, if not undiminished, at least with- out immediate prospect of extinction. These cheap serials have an advantage over the re- gular three-volume novel which must be a source of MAEVELS OF FICTION. 229 great satisfaction both to the publisher and the reader. They run on to any length, and frequently end with an entirely new set of characters, long after the original dramatis personceh.^NQ been disposed of by various deeds of violence, or by the influences of broken hopes and blighted affections. There may be readers who complain even of three volumes recording the workings of crime tempered with gross stupidity; but then they have all three volumes at once, and it is obviously quite a different thing to get a number every Saturday, and to sit down to one’s Sunday- afternoon reading with the certainty that the hero who was falsely imprisoned last week will be out again, and, after confronting and braining his accuser, will jump into a hansom, visit the woman who desires to work his ruin, and be in time to rescue the suffering and devoted heroine from a house on Are and the persecutions of a drunken theatrical manager, all in the space of an ordinary tea-time and in eight pages of largish print. Some of these marvellous works of fiction have been going on for years, in nobody knows how many series, and they have most of them the extraordinary advantage of answering nearly as well whether you begin their perusal at No. 1 or at No. 999; for whenever the original hero has been disposed of by being united to the girl of his affections — who must, according to ordinary ex- perience, and considering the amount of ill-usage she has undergone, present the appearance of a ragman’s doll — another combination of courage and misfortune 230 LABOURS OF LOVE. takes his place, and the inheritance of vice is never left without some beautiful but unscrupulous criminal to come into the property. , Where do these stories go ? For what market are the descriptions of gross immorality, the jaunty allu- sions to debauchery, and the common reference to some of the worst sins with which the reader can be familiar- ised, made up ? Of course, a large number of copies are sold in London — sold to boys and girls who will learn too soon what are the evils that beset them in their real everyday life, and will certainly be none the better for that sort of hazy paltering with crime which makes the great effect of these choice productions ; — sold to domestic servants, who spell over the delicious dan- gers of a heroine, who is saved only, as it were, by an interposing miracle from ‘ a gilded fate,’ which, if she hadn’t loved the young man who could only offer her ^ a humble hut pure and virtuous home,’ wouldn’t perhaps seem so very dreadful after all — especially to one who hadn’t a young man of her own for whom she had a very overwhelming partiality. There can be no doubt either, that if the British workman himself does not read such trash, the wife of the British workman very often does. Yes, and she is perhaps the only person of all its widely scattered sub- scribers to whom it does comparatively little injury ; for she reads it innocently, from the great vantage- ground of her own practical life, her maternity, her household duties (which may sometimes suffer a little through the enthralling interest of a very ‘ cuttii^g’ WHO READS THE RUBBISH? 231 number), and the strong sense of reality, which must always supersede the glamour of the merely imaginative where there are half-a-dozen children. It can only he hoped that, when the number is done with, she locks it safely in some upstairs drawer if any of those children have begun to read. But there can be no doubt that by far the largest proportion of these publications are sent into the coun- try ; and anybody who knows the country well, will long ago have ceased to believe in the necessary connection between an agricultural or pastoral society and complete innocence. Eustic simplicity is not the inevitable re- sult of fresh butter and new-laid eggs ; and while Molly the dairymaid is skimming the milk before it ‘ freezes in the pail,’ what time Hodge the ploughman is so sen- sible of atmospheric influence that he ^ blows his nail,’ they may both be engaged in a little mental plot of their own, which may or may not have been assisted and stimulated by their knowledge of life acquired from the highly - spiced pages that have helped to relieve the tedium of the long winter nights. It is in the manufacturing and the smaller towns, however, that these pages find their greatest admirers ; in almost any of the back streets of these places some purveyor may be found to supply the tempting penny- worth to lads, who some of them long to emulate the theatrical ruffians and robbers of the narrative, or to see for themselves, just for once (after which they will of course return to the paths of virtue), some of that easy vice and common debauchery so admirably 232 LABOURS OF LOVE. depicted by the gay rattle who records the rather dreary vagaries of billiard-sharpers and ^ flash’ thieves. I have here put down my pen for a few minutes, for the purpose of examining some choice examples of this ^ boy’s literature’ which I happen to have by me, in order to introduce some of the less revolting specimens; but I feel that it would be better to leave them out, even as illustrations of the subject. They are too dis- gusting. No reader of these lines would be likely to take much injury from their perusal; but I have not the excuse of their rarity to urge for inserting them. Any quantity of such trash may be obtained a street or two off if you care to look for it. I feel that I should have less excuse for reprinting them than for quoting the Newgate Calendar. Indeed, there is a Newgate Calendar which may be fitly referred to in this connection. It is the recent report of the Ordinary of Newgate (Mr. Lloyd Jones), who in his record of the gaol in 1869 says : ^ In my report to you last year, I stated as my ex- perience that crime presented itself from year to year in ^some new aspect, standing out like a hideous excres- cence upon an unsightly surface, provoking observa- tion and demanding serious attention — of legislators, how to check it by the strong arm of law ; and of Chris- tian teachers, how best to proclaim the danger and to avert the peril with which it threatens the happiness of the unwary and inexperienced. Last year I pointed out the mischief to the young of both sexes which I be- lieved was caused, and I still believe is caused, by cheap INFLUENCE OF THE POISON. 233 periodicals. I am thankful to find that my observations met with much attention, and with the unqualified ap- proval of several Christian men and societies, who are endeavouring to point out and to provide wholesome literature. The truth of this statement, which I made last year, has just been corroborated by the chaplain of the House of Detention, in his annual report to the magistrates for Middlesex. Such independent and con- firmatory evidence surely establishes the fact, that cer- tain literature is inducing respectable lads to contem- plate and commit crimes, and is a great and serious evil.’ The best London Union. I have already referred to the hopeful project of forming such an organisation for the relief of distress as shall eventually combine in one definite and mutual effort all the valuable agencies now employed to carry on our Labours of Love on behalf of the poor, the suffer- ing, and the destitute. To learn what may be accomplished by hearty co- operation, and how surely the systematic and patient endeavour to effect an improvement in the condition of the neglected and ignorant of even one district will be followed by extended means of usefulness, it is only necessary to refer to the great Lagged- School scheme. It is a scheme no longer, but an accomplished Insti- tution. The effort that a quarter of a century ago was begun as an experiment, and regarded as doubtful in its operation, not only because of the supposed difficulties 234 LABOURS OF LOVE. in the way of voluntary support, but in consequence of its very name, is now a mighty power in this Great City, as well as in some of our large towns ; has ex- tended far beyond its original scope of operations ; and, could it be possible for us to hear that ragged schools were to he at once superseded by a government system based on an entirely different method of proceeding from that so long successfully adopted by the Kagged-School Union, we should most of us shudder at the probable recoil that must inevitablj^ occur not only in a hundred charitable agencies, but also in the moral and mental advancement of the classes who are in most need of the elevating influence which this institution has so suc- cessfully maintained. This is the very mildest way of putting it. To speak in plain terms, there has been no other system presented to us which could have effected any such widely extended changes in the most depraved and miserable part of the community ; and wherever the Eagged School has been founded — and the boys and girls who are to make the men and 'women of the future have been the first considera- tion — help, encouragement, and some means of relief to the men and women of the present have almost simultane- ously taken some definite and useful form. It is not dif- ficult to understand. To begin with the destitute and neglected children of the streets, difficult as the enterprise appeared, was to set to work with a hopeful promise of seeing an immediate result in the training of those who were as yet susceptible of some abiding impressions, and also of establishing actual centres of useful work, THE STILL UNSOLVED PKOBLEM. 235 where all who lived in the neighbourhood must he sensible that a process of redemption was going on, and so would be constrained to acknowledge that there is a living Gospel that might reach them too. Had the spirit of the promoters of Bagged Schools been more zealously acknowledged — had theoretical as well as many practical philanthropists exclaimed with one voice, ‘ Let what may be left undone, this shall be done : whatever difference of opinion we may hold about methods of dealing with adult criminals or re- lieving adult paupers, this new generation of neglected children shall, God helping us, not grow up to be a terror to our sons and daughters, and a reproach to our own professions’ — we should not now be standing aghast at the still unsolved problem presented by the danger- ous classes. If I need to apologise for the large proportion of these pages occupied in considering such Labours of Love in this Great City as are directed to the main- tenance of institutions for London’s lost and wandering little ones, this is my excuse : our only hope is in a vigorous determination to stem the tide of poverty and crime at its source ; to divert each rill as it wells up com- paratively pure into a broad and noble channel, so that, instead of lying foul and full of noxious influences in our midst, the stream will flow forth to the healing of the nations. Begin with the children. Of their need or of their claim there can be no question. Whoever may have been their parents, they are ours — everybody’s children ; and we cannot put them from us if we would ; they be- 236 LABOURS OF LOVE. long to US : whether they shall be a source of strength or w^eakness, of glory or of shame, it must be for us to determine. To return for a moment to a consideration with which we started, however, it is a suggestive, and yet an easily understood, fact, that wherever a Eagged School has been established in a forlorn and wretched neigh- bourhood, its influence has extended far beyond the scholars — nay, even beyond the circle of their own relatives or reputed guardians. God forbid that it could ever be otherwise ! God forbid that even those whom we regard as ^ abandoned’ men and w^omen should always be inaccessible to some emotion, to some slight stirring of the heart, at sight of a little child ; or that men and women, however hardened and debased, should cease to wish for that young soul a better hope than to become as seared and deadened as themselves ! The truth is — and may we be forgiven for it ! — that we are often too ready to forget how the influences amidst which such people live tend to seal up any ex- pression of sympathy or tenderness ; how in the very desperation of their poverty and vice they present to us only the worst side of their foully incrusted characters, and defy our estimate of them at their own lowest valua- tion of themselves. At any rate, wherever these healthy stirrings of the children’s hearts are effected, — in the sordid room or the recently-erected neat building, where those little voices make the rafters ring, or raise a shout in the alleys as they troop away from school, — something is likely to grow out of the effort that is successful in WE SEE THE WORST SIDE. 237 making better the condition of mothers, of sisters, of bigger brothers, and even of such neighbours as begin by being contemptuous, go on by becoming curious, and often end by remaining zealous. Thus actually in operation as distinct, but insepara- ble, branches of the work now carried on by the schools in connection with the Eagged-School Union, we find mothers’ meetings, penny dinners, sewing classes, cloth- ing clubs, coal clubs, sick clubs, blanket-loan clubs, bar- row clubs, and burial clubs ; blanket-lending societies, maternity charities, penny banks, bands of hope, drum- and-fife bands, choral classes, lending libraries, flower shows, country excursions, and various juvenile indus- tries, including the guilds of shoe-blacks, rag-collectors, and street-cleaners. There is even a ^ swearing club’ — which, in spite of its name, is really an anti- swearing club, established by a lad in* a district where he and some of his companions determined to make a personal effort to discourage the use of profane language. To some of these I hope to call your attention pre- sently ; but it is in connection with its first great work that I have now to speak of this Union : its work of help- ing in the support of free schools for the destitute poor of London and its suburbs. By the rules adopted on the formation of this society, it was decided that its area of operations should be within the metropolitan circle, the radius of which ex- tended for twenty-four miles round Charing-cross ; and though, of course, by far the larger number of schools with which it is connected are in the Great City itself — 238 LABOURS OF LOVE. that is to say, within the five miles’ radius — there are five more distant districts where the need for instructing the poor and destitute has led to the formation of auxilia- ries — that is to say, at Hill-street in Croydon Old Town, at Gravesend, Brentford, Kingston, and Woolwich. The objects contemplated by the Union are ‘ to en- courage and assist those who teach in Bagged Schools ; to help such by small grants of money, where advisable ; to collect and diffuse information respecting schools now in existence, and promote the formation of new ones ; to suggest plans for the more efficient management of such schools and for the instruction of the children of the poor in general ; to visit the various schools occa- sionally, and observe their progress ; to encourage teachers’-meetings and Bible-classes ; and to assist the old as well as the young in the study of the Word of God.’ All teachers and superintendents representing ragged schools, and all subscribers of ten shillings per annum and upwards, may become members of the Union, and have the privilege of attending its meetings. The financial affairs are solely conducted by the managing committee, treasurer, and honorary secretary (to he elected at the annual meeting of the members), whose services are entirely gratuitous. The Union does not interfere with the financial con- cerns or the internal management of particular schools, farther than to ascertain that any money granted by the union is applied to the purpose for which it is given ; and those schools only are in union with this society LOKD Shaftesbury’s efforts. 239 where the admission is entirely gratuitous, the autho- rised version of the Scriptures used, and those children alone admitted who are destitute of any other means of instruction, while no denomination of evangelical Chris- tians is excluded from its provisions. The present office of the institution is at No. 1 Exeter Hall, Strand, where the secretary, Mr. J. G. Gent, receives subscriptions. Subscriptions or dona- tions may also he forwarded to Messrs. Hatchard & Son, Piccadilly ; Messrs. Nisbet & Co., 21 Berners- street ; to the bankers, Messrs. Barclay, Bevan, & Co., Lom- bard-street ; or to Mr. W. A. Blake, the collector, at the office of the union. This association may he said to have commenced from the foundation of the 'first Bagged Schools, under the active presidency of Lord Shaftesbury, twenty-six years ago ; and whatever may be the opinion held of his lordship in any political relation, those of us who have watched the progress of the work which he inau- gurated and has ever since strenuously and constantly supported, can do no less than accord to him the hon- our of having instituted a work of greater national im- portance than that secured by any single effort of statesmanship during the whole period of his long and undiminished interest in this cause. He set the noble example of personal effort, and with an energy and singleness of purpose which sustained doubts, smiles, and even sneers, set himself to work in earnest not only to establish schools for destitute and neglected children, but to improve the wretched dwellings and the means 240 LABOUKS OF LOVE. of decent living of the inhabitants of the foul districts to which that work was first applied. When once the success of the endeavour was proved, the movement was taken up in many large towns of the United Kingdom ; and in the fifth year of their opera- tion, the pioneers who devoted themselves to the work had established in London 82 schools, where 8,000 scholars were taught by 900 voluntary and 120 paid teachers. In the tenth year the number of schools had in- creased to 129, the scholars to 13,000, with 1,700 volun- tary and 240 paid teachers. In the fifteenth year there were 150 schools, 22,000 scholars, 2,600 voluntary and 360 paid teachers, beside 371 paid monitors or assistant- teachers. The twentieth year showed an increase to 163 schools, with 24,000 scholars and 2,800 voluntary teach- ers ; the number of paid teachers remained at 360, but the number of monitors was increased to 450. At the present time there are 191 schools, with 32,334 scholars under the charge of 3,448 voluntary and 424 paid teachers and 585 paid monitors. The operations represented by the various schools included in the union are 272 Sabbath afternoon and evening schools, with an average attendance of above 32,000 ; and 194 day-schools, 40 of which are for boys, 33 for girls, and 121 for both boys and girls. In these the number of scholars on the books are over 33,000, and the average attendance 23,992; that is to say, 3,830 in the 40 boys’ schools, 3,186 in the 33 girls’ schools, and 16,976 children in the 121 schools where boys and PROGRESS OF THE MOVEMENT. 241 girls are taught together. The average number of day- school children to each paid teacher is over 100, and these teachers are assisted by monitors whenever there are funds to render them this aid. Then there are 209 week-night schools : 84 for boys, where the average attendance is 3,573 ; 71 for girls, of whom 2,935 attend; and 54 for hoys and girls together, in which the number of attendances is 3,006, making a total of 9,514. In 112 industrial classes — 12 for boys, and 100 for girls — 279 boys and 4,058 girls are taught some kind of work, the preponderance of girls being of course re- ferable to the fact that most of these classes are for sewing. The London Shoe-black Societies, however, employ an average of 377 hoys, who during the year just past earned 8,830L It is indeed cheering to learn, that during the year ending March 25th, 1869, 50 scholars were placed in the Central Shoe-black Brigade (red uniform), of whom 7 were without father or mother, 12 fatherless, and 11 motherless; 10 in the Marylebone or North-west Lon- don Shoe-black Brigade (red-and-hlack uniform) ; 6 in the Islington or North -London Shoe -black Brigade (brown uniform) ; 11 in the City of London Sewers Street-Cleaning Brigade. Seventy-seven poor destitute boys were thus rescued from their street life, with its evil associations and temptations, and placed in posi- tions of honest usefulness. They were holders of horses, crossing-sweepers, hawkers of cigar-lights, &c. Several 242 LABOURS OF JjOTEI. being parentless, homeless outcasts, were admitted into the refuges attached to the brigades, and still reside in them, doing well. The greatest portion of these boys lodged in some of the poorest and most crowded parts of St. Giles’s parish, viz. Lincoln-court, Orange- court, Princes-court, Wild-court, Wild-passage, all in Great Wild-street. Also in King-street, Charles-street, Parker-street, the Coal-yard, Short’s-gardens, &c., in Drury-lane ; and Church - lane, George - street, Dudley- street, Nottingham-court, the Five and the Seven Dials, and other places. From one little school alone as many as 167 of the before-mentioned class of boys have been placed in the Central Shoe-black Brigade (red) within the past few years. But the employment found for lads in this brigade is not final, nor is it the only situation open to those who are steady and of good character. Situations are frequently offered to such boys, and employment of a superior kind discovered for them. The year’s reports mention that 1,924 scholars have been sent from the schools to situa- tions, while 242 have become teachers, having probably first filled the post of monitors with credit. The pay- ments to monitors is of course very small ; but it en- courages a steady boy of fair ability to study if he dis- plays any aptitude for teaching. Day-schools, with 70 to 100 scholars in daily attendance and employing four monitors, are empowered by the Union to pay for divi- sion among the four two shillings a-week; those with 100 to 150 children and six monitors four shillings THE SHOE-BLACK BRIGADE. 243 a-week; and those with 150 scholars and upwards, and eight monitors, six shillings a-week. Before leaving the educational work, which is of course the principal operation of this great association, there must be mentioned 98 ragged churches and City- mission meetings, with an average attendance of 6,368 ; 68 Bible-classes, with 1,339 members in attendance ; 116 teachers’ prayer-meetings, with an attendance of 2,713 ; and 95 parents’-meetings, where 3,425 fathers and mothers are directly under the influences to which allusion has already been made. To the Bands of Hope, with their 4,000 members, and the school-libraries with over 15,000 volumes, there is no need to do more than refer; but the 110 penny banks number 28,685 depositors, the balance in hand at Christmas last being 1,534Z., which means, it is true, a ridiculously small sum for each ; but yet is remark- ably suggestive as being the residue after the year’s fluctuating deposits had been withdrawn — deposits which amounted to nearly 11,000Z. in the twelve months, or about eight shillings a-head ; by no means an insigni- flcant sum when we renaember the extreme poverty of the people for whom they are designed, and the lesson these people must already be beginning to learn in the practice of a difficult economy. One of the most illustrative of the institutions for the benefit of adults which has grown out of Bagged Schools is the barrow club, to which I have already alluded. In one district — a very representative neigh- bourhood called Perkins’s-rents — as many as forty-thr^^ 244 LABOUKS OF LOVE. barrows have been built, and then supplied to members who have paid a shilling a-week for fifty-five weeks. It will be readily understood how hopeless a task it must seem for a poor costermonger or a street hawker ^ down on his luck’ ever to accumulate the money for purchasing a real handy barrow of his own, without some help ; and where can he obtain a loan of nearly three pounds for such an investment without incurring obligations which will make barrow and stock and his very personal liberty the property of the lender till, it is repaid ? Could he only put by a shilling a-week! But he can’t. There’s nowhere to put the money but where he can’t make up his mind to take such a small sum as a shilling, and so, ^ going to the public to think it over, with a pint of beer,’ shilling and resolution are alike dissipated. But here is a way open to get a regular first-rate barrow, built on the latest scientific principles, and with all sorts of improvements ready to his hand, if he can but get along for a year or so with hiring. One can well imagine the joyful satisfaction of the member of the barrow club as he goes out in the morning trundling that representative vehicle before him, and thinks per- haps of having his name painted on it with an appro- priate motto. That the barrow club exercises a real moral influ- ence need scarcely be insisted on ; but as an illustra- tion, I will here reprint an anecdote told by its pro- moters, who thus record an incident in its history : ' It is very remarkable, considering the wandering life of some of the barrow-holders, that none have ever THE BARROW CLUB. 245 been lost to the society, and it reflects great credit on the management. We were much amused at the his- tory of a narrow escape some two years since. It was about half-past ten one cold snowy night that tidings reached the club that a holder of a grinder’s barrow, who resided in the neighbourhood, had been sent home helplessly intoxicated in a cab, and minus his barrow, and that he had been last seen in company with a man of very bad repute, who purposed leaving London early the next morning. The secretary of the society, accom- panied by two volunteers, members of the barrow club, determined to start off at once to save the barrow, if possible. Being well acquainted with the various haunts of the suspected person, they visited numerous places without getting any tidings of the barrow. At length they reached Hammersmith, and entering a court they came upon the barrow standing in the yard. Knocking up the man whom they suspected of having carried it off, but who protested that he had found it standing without an owner, and had placed it there for safety, the secretary claimed it as the property of the society ; and as a policeman was standing by no opposition was offered, and the barrow was wheeled away in triumph, the persevering pedestrians not reaching Westminster till nearly two in the morning, wet and weary enough. The satisfaction of having done their duty, however, was their only reward, as they received no gratuity whatever, and the occurrence was only casually men- tioned some time afterwards.’ If the barrow club may be taken as a good illus- 246 LABOURS OF LOVE. tration of the external work in connection with ragged schools, Perkins’s -rents, where the largest of these branch societies is held, may be regarded as a neigh- bourhood well representing the places where the schools themselves have been established, and the- glorious work that they are accomplishing. To say that Perkins’s-rents is situated in one of the lowest parts of Westminster is to say no more than that it was once, if it be not now, amongst those ‘ worst parts of London’ that have become proverbial for ignorance, vice, and misery. After having spoken of Spitalfields and Bethnal-green, and threaded the mazes of South- wark, and been lost in the tangled webs that charac- terise some other wretched localities to be spoken of presently, Westminster still presents to the wayfarer in the slums of the Great City its own specially terrible characteristics — its own long - disregarded warrens of crime, and long-undisturbed burrows of poverty and wretchedness. Why it should so long have been known as ^ the Devil’s Acre’ it is not difficult to imagine ; how it should have been so long left in possession of such Satanic tenancy is matter for humble repentance and hopeful, prayerful determination with regard to other places where less has been done to issue a writ of eject- ment. In this traditional haunt of the wretched and the vicious, the One Tun was the favoured tavern to which thieves and ruffians resorted ; and it was in that very One Tun — long ago converted into a ragged-school building, but retaining the name of its old sign — that the labour of love was commenced. Never was there PERKINS’S-EENTS. 247 any traditional tun — no, not even that of Heidelberg — which contained so much. The children who were first gathered within its sheltering walls have grown into men and women, and the work has increased too ; so that with the new generation there has flowed out upon the neighbourhood the very wine of life. ^ Day and evening schools, Sunday schools. Mothers’ Meeting, Band of Hope, Blind Bible Reader, Penny Bank, Lend- ing Library, a Clothing Fund, a Sick and Destitute Fund, and the Fathers’ Home (known as the West- minster Working Men’s Club and Reading Rooms, Old Pye-street, late Duck-lane), with its separate efforts of Bible and Educational Classes and Prayer Meetings, Penny Bank, Loan Society, Barrow Club, Temperance and Sick Societies, and Lending Library — all have had their rise here ; and associated with it, if not a part of its unfailing effort, the dwelling-house for sixty -one families, Westminster-buildings, Old Pye-street. The annual sum for which these are carried on is 231L 5s. id.; 203Z. 7s. lid. being required — and more being needed, now that the work is growing larger still — for the schools only. This chain of institutions at the One Tun is, how- ever, but an example of various efforts in the most be- nighted corners of the Great City; some of them in districts with which we are all familiar, others in neigh- bourhoods through which few of us pass, and the very existence of which is almost unsuspected by hundreds of people who yet have spent their lives in London. For instance, how many of the readers of these lines 248 LABOURS OF LOVE. have been up and down the zigzag courts, and in and out among the foul maze that is fitly named after Chequer-alley. You know Chiswell-street. So do I. You know Aldersgate-street, and Whitecross-street (the outside of the prison, I mean), and Barbican, and Bunhill-row, with its celebrated burial-ground recently restored from wreck and ruin to comparative order. So do I. You may even go so far as to say that you know Golden - lane ; but unless you are a robust and practised ob- server, your knowledge of that desperate byway is of a very superficial character. For Golden-lane is in vice and squalid poverty scarcely to be equalled in London. There are few places where, in so short a walk, so many evil-looking taverns find customers all day long; few localities where on Sunday mornings the opening of the public-house doors is looked forward to with such dogged expectation by the ‘ roughs’ who lounge about the causeway, or sit on the kerb-stone or the door-steps, that they may be ready to take advantage of the first withdrawal of the bolts of those doors that are ^ on the swing’ for eighteen hours out of twenty-four on every day but Sunday. Women with children in their arms, or draggling after them in the mud — women loud-voiced, wild-eyed, evil-tongued — are to be seen at any hour in the day at the foul sloppy bars of these places — more women than men during the mornings and afternoons of week-days. At night the inmates of those dim rooms, into some of which you may just peep as you pass, add A ZIGZAG NEIGHBOUKHOOD. 249 their custom to the demand for drugged drink and rank tobacco. Those rooms belong to the lodging-houses where the ^tramps’ kitchens’ are to he found — places far less safe for an amateur to visit than the so-called ‘ thieves’ kitchens,’ about which the police sometimes pretend to have so much difficulty. However, supposing even that you have a passing acquaintance with Golden -lane, have you penetrated farther still in your explorations, and been in and out, here and there, among the Chequers ? In a word, do you know Chequer-alley ? Don’t pretend that you have an acquaintance with it because you have seen the name painted up over a narrow, squalid, forbidding entry to a dark court, and have concluded that it was a mere foul cul de sac, or a neglected byway to some adjacent street. If that has been your conclusion, you were never more mistaken in your life. Chequer-alley means a whole zigzag neigh- bourhood, an agglomeration of alleys and courts, inter- secting as wretched and poverty-stricken a district as can be found in all London — a puzzle-map of poverty, a maze of misery, in which the unaccustomed visitor might grow heart -sick and dizzy in the effort to find his way amidst the tangle of hovels and close yards ; of which a key is not to be found in any map that I know of; the names of which are probably unsettled by any ‘ board’ of works, local or metropolitan ; a vast sty in the midst of this Great City where 20,000 human beings herd together in a condition so wretched, that had a traveller to some distant land sent back a description 250 LABOURS OF LOVE. of a native colony disclosing such destitution, vice, and ignorance, we should at once have asked why no mission- aries had been despatched to remedy a state of things more repulsive than many narratives of heathen life which have claimed and found immediate response from Christian effort. I think I have some acquaintance with what are called the worst neighbourhoods of London. I have made many a journey down East ; have studied some of the strange varieties of life on the shore amidst that waterside population that edges the brink of the Thames ; have lived amidst the slums of Spitalfields, and passed nights Whitechapel-way ; but never, in any single unbroken area of such extent, have I seen so much suggestive of utter poverty, so much privation of the ordinary means of health and decency, as in a journey up and dowm the Chequers. About Bethnal- green, as I lately tried to show, there are foul spots lying hidden behind sordid streets, and on the back yards of houses on which hovels have been built ; but here is an entire district all hovels and yards — small dirty spaces, where water-tap and drain, in close prox- imity and conveniently near the front doors, serve for a score of families ; each court or blind alley with the same characteristics, the same look of utter poverty, the same want of air and light, the same blank aspect of dingy wall and sunken door-step, the same effort to make common use of the only space there is by stretch- ing lines from window to window on which to dry the few poor articles of clothing which have been washed — A TERRIBLE LOCALITY. 251 goodness knows where — and are unstirred by any breeze that blows, shut in, as they are, in close caverns, only to be entered by narrow passages between blank walls. It is the extent of this area of poverty, almost in the very centre of City life, that is so bewildering ; and therein lies its terrible distinction. Any one unaccustomed to such places feels a kind of fear steal over him as he threads the windings of the place, and amidst the depressing stillness that is pecu- liar to such neighbourhoods when no shrill brawl or drunken clamour breaks the usual silence, wonders if it would be safe to wander there at night ; whether some contagion of disease may not make it unsafe to breathe the tainted air by day ; some sudden caprice of ruffian- ism await his faltering footsteps as he lingers in a narrow inlet, where there is scarcely room for one to pass. There was a time when this latter fear would not have been groundless ; a time when crime as well as vice and ignorance ran riot, and the ferocity as well as the heathenism of such savage life was made the more dangerous by its casual contact with civilisation : but that time has passed away. To an observant eye there are many efforts after cleanliness and order, which are amongst the most pathetic evidences that a work is in progress there. Just as the unbroken extent of the miserable neighbourhood is its evil distinction from the worst parts of Bethnal-green, so this is its more hope- ful characteristic. Yet how is it that the effort should not be made to 252 LABOURS OF LOVE. meet the wide need of such a benighted spot? Who can avoid asking whether it would not be a noble and useful achievement to attack this one stronghold of Satan, and to let in air and light to those imprisoned souls ? Slow as the processes may be by which such results are completely attained, would it not be w^ell if we could at least provide for their thorough accomplish- ment ? Alas, it rests with us, with you, with all who themselves profess to walk in the truth, to give the necessary aid. The labour is begun, but the labourers are few ; the field full of promise, but the work deferred for need of reapers in the harvest. What has been done by ^the authorities’ may be summed up in a short paragraph. It is about thirty years since the first organised voluntary effort was made to improve the moral condi- tion of the neighbourhood. It was in April last year that the sanitary surveyor reported on one of the courts of this foul district, recommending that the premises therein should be demolished under the ‘ Artisans and Labourers’ Dwelling Act.’ That report states distinctly enough that the fioors and ceilings are considerably out of level, some of the walls saturated with filth and water, the others broken and falling down, doors, window-sashes, and frames rotten, stairs dilapidated and dangerous, roof leaky and admitting the rain, no provisions for decency, and foul and failing water-supply. This is a picture of a locality where the only model lodging-house built for the inhabitants stands unoccupied, except by a mission and ragged school, since, like all the model lodging- MISS MACARTHY AND MR. JOSLAND’s EFFORTS. 253 houses, the provision was not adapted to meet the needs of the poorest ; a locality where whole families occupy single rooms at a rental varying from Is. M, to 5s, weekly. Nearly twenty-nine years have passed since the first regular effort was made to throw light upon this dark corner of the Great City; and that effort, as far as any direct system is concerned, was due to an active and zealous woman, who still lives to see the work that she inaugurated yielding hopeful wages. It was in 1841 that Miss Macarthy, with an earnest desire to join in some work of charity and mercy, applied to the secretary of the Tract Society connected with the Wes- leyan Chapel in the City-road to become a ^distributor;’ and the neighbourhood she chose was this same foul tangle of courts and alleys to which I have asked you to accompany me. She was supported by Mr. Eichard Jos- land — a gentleman whose quiet unostentatious benevo- lence was long exercised in and around this plague-spot of London, both by personal effort and missionary exer- tion, maintained at his own expense. Bad as the whole district is now, it was far worse then. It was never decidedly a thief quarter ; but many juvenile thieves haunted it, as they do now ; and the men and women were as debased and brutal as could be found in all Lon- don. Instead of being paved, and partially, if insuffici- ently, drained, it was an agglomeration of filthiness, with here and there a fetid pool where ducks swam, and the stench of open cesspools added to the foul odours of the miserable houses. No policeman dare venture there alone. 254 LABOUBS OF LOVE. It is not difficult to imagine what sort of reception the tract-distributor encountered ; too easy to conclude how hopeless it seemed to fix the attention of the wretched dwellers in this great foul sty, even when an epidemic of typhus, known as the ‘ courts’ or ‘ poverty’ fever, was raging, and Miss Macarthy herself was smit- ten down in the midst of her work, just as she had begun to make her patient kindness felt. The interruptions of those religious services that were commenced in a ratcatcher’s front parlour — the joining in the hymns with scraps and overwhelming choruses of songs ; the personal assaults, and premedi- tated insults to which those ,were subject who joined in the work— have been told in a little book, entitled Chequer Alley, published four years ago; a book which any one who desires a genuine relief from ^ sensation’ articles, and can still estimate a plain statement and a truthful description, should read for himself. To-day as we thread these dirty mazes, and note the people standing at their doors, we are aware of a change brought about by a living influence ; especially as we look at the groups of children here and there, with something of quiet purpose and childlike pleading confidence in their little faces, we feel that some great work is really going on. Well, Miss Macarthy is still busy there — busy with the school that she founded, busy with children’s din- ners, with class-meetings, week-night services, agencies for relieving want, as well as for instructing the ignor- ant in the way of life — and since she laid that first foun- HARD WORK. 255 dation, others have taken up the work ; distinct, but not separate, in their endeavours. For instance : standing here at the very beginning of the alley itself, we can hear a buzz and murmur of children’s voices ; and on inquiring of a juvenile native, who is evidently striving to interpret our intentions, learn that, it is ‘ our school ; and you kin go in, sir ; any- body can.’ ^ Hope Schools, for All,’ is the name of the place ; and a good name too, if we are to judge by what is to he seen at this moment : for to begin with — and a blessed beginning it is — here are fifty or sixty ‘ infants ;’ many of them such bright, rosy, chubby little creatures, that we wonder how it is possible for so much beauty to bud in this neglected corner of the Great City. Some, on the other hand, are pale, and with that wist- ful, under-fed look that goes to the heart; but there are few of them who have not got clean faces, and who do not show in their poor and often scanty little dresses some attempt at decent preparation for meeting ^the guv’ness.’ She has hard work, poor lady — hard and sometimes almost overwhelming work, she and her assistant-teacher; for beside these little ones some 150 of the elder scholars are just now in their classes, and as the afternoon school is nearly over for the day, there is some difficulty in keeping silence. No difficulty in gaining a ready but shy answer from any one of the pupils, however ; no dif- ficulty either in obtaining a youthful guide, who, being a resident in the outlying precincts of Fore-street, vol- unteers to conduct us through the Chequers without 256 LABOURS OF LOVE. stipulated reward. You may have noticed as you came in, that three girls were busy scrubbing the gallery of an outer room, generally used for the infant-school, but now in process of cleansing ; you may have observed a kind of covered yard too, where there is a huge copper and some cooking apparatus. This copper has just been doing good service, for besides furnishing eighty to a hundred ^ penny dinners’ a-week, it has yielded I know not how^ many gallons of gratuitous soup. Then on Christmas-day ! What a Christmas ! Fancy 600 little hungry mouths ready to be filled with juicy cuts from prime roast legs of mutton, follow’ed with such a pudding as leaves its unctuous steam in nooks and crannies of the place for a whole month afterwards ! This Hope-for-All room is scarcely ever empty ; its echoes are heard from early morn till night, for there are evening schools where forty or fifty older pupils are taught reading, writing, and arithmetic ; there are, also, an adult class, a Sunday-evening service, and a week-night prayer-meeting ; and beyond that, again, a mothers’ meeting, where about fifty poor women as- semble once a-week, and from their small savings buy materials, furnished them at wholesale cost price, to make clothing for themselves and their children. The visiting ‘ Bible-woman’ is agent not only to bring the parents and the children to this Home of Hope, but to report such cases of distress as may be relieved when there are funds for that purpose. During the winter evenings the light and attractive element of refining amusements is added to these widely-reaching SOFTLY ! 257 influences, — lectures, readings, dissolving-views, con- certs ; and in the summer, strangest perhaps of all in Chequer-alley, a flower-show, and an excursion into the country. But our youthful guide is waiting for us at the door, while we have barely exhausted even the mere list of what is being done in this one spot. We go out into the dim courts, and thread their labyrinths with lighter hearts, and yet — and yet — ^how much remains to do ? The candle placed on a candlestick lights that house and all belonging to it — nay, its rays penetrate to scores of these sordid homes where else all would be so dark and drear ; but what a depth of gloom still lies beyond ! If we could only climb up to some eminence where we could look down on all that dreadful neigh- bourhood — take a bird’s-eye view of the Chequers, and see it like a map below — then we might come to esti- mate more nearly what is w^aiting to be done; how much strength and energy and charity is yet required to carry on the work, even though it should not be in- creased. Nay, if one could only stand in the midst of this dreadful place, and in a voice of thunder proclaim to the Great City its duty and its shame, and so bring swift aid by firing men’s hearts and consciences! Softly ! the work is not done that way — not in the accents of thunder, but in the still small voice — not by denunciation and threatening, but by man speaking to his fellow even as Christ spake, is the work to be accom- plished. But look here 1 We are standing before a great blank brick building, s 258 LABOURS OF LOVE. with a solid look, as of an edifice meant to last, and yet with a shut-up and, if I may say so, slip-shod appear- ance, as of one that has not fulfilled its purpose. Bead- ing what is written on a painted board, you will see that it is the head-quarters of the ‘ Costermongers’ Mission but come with me. Now you know what this great pile was intended for. You recognise the long barrack-like passages, the square blank rooms right and left, the corridors, the steep stairs, the look of fire-proofness, the rather repellent air of the whole place, and see in all of them the features of one of those model lodging-houses W'hich never yet have met the wants of the poorest — no, nor often even of the poorer — class of labourers. No won- der that this is empty in a neighbourhood of coster- mongers, casual labourers, workers at poor and fluc- tuating trades, street-hawkers, and the worst-paid rank of artisans. Up, and still up, till yoTl wonder where we are to stop, and then suddenly here you are on the flat roof, far above all that maze of squalid houses, and trying to gaze down through its pall of smoke and London fog, to trace the ramifications of the foul web. It is an awful sight — a sight to arouse sad and serious reflec- tions; to awaken thoughts that should not leave us soon, and should hear fruit in action. By your side stands the master of the ragged school, which counts 185 scholars, and is held in the large rooms on the first floor. Suddenly, from an open window in one of the nearest of the houses, we see a group of faces, the sud- den brightening of which is visible even from this height. MR. Harwood’s work. 259 and presently a shrill chorus of ^ Hullo, Mr. Harwood ! hullo, sir! We can see you, Mis-ter Har-woodl’ rings up above the streets. It is one of the pleasantest things we have yet heard; and yet, when we go down into the school we shall hear something pleasanter still. As we stand talk- ing in the hoys’ schoolroom, the door suddenly hursts open, and a group of little creatures from the girls’ and infant school adjoining almost tumble over the thres- hold with noisy shouts of ^ Good-bye !’ ^Eun away, you rogues,’ says our quiet acquaintance, breaking into a ready smile nevertheless. Such a peal of laughter as greets his threatening gesture it does one’s heart good to hear ; and when to that is added a shrill appeal of ^ Kiss me,, please, Mr. Harwood !’ many a tougher subject than you or me might give way a little. This same quiet gentleman, with the determined face, is he who undertakes one of the most difficult parts of the mission work. He goes as a preacher and missionary to the tramps’ kitchens.’ The work among the costermongers is rough and liable to all sorts of boisterous interruptions, but it is plain sailing com- j)ared to nightly visits to those dens, the common lodging-houses of Golden-lane and its neighbourhood. But we have only time to speak a word to the female missionary, whose arduous duty is now so appreciated by the poor, the sick, and the suffering, to whom she is the harbinger of hope and sympathy ; no time at all to hear of the children’s Sunday-evening service, the 260 LABOUKS OF LOVE. open-air preaching, the sewing classes, the ragged-hoys’ patching class, the maternity charity, the clothing club, the drum-and-fife hand, the choral classes, the penny savings-bank, and harrow fund, the shoe club, the aid to the destitute in the purchase of tools, the supply of food, or in advances for buying a haked-potato can, a sweep’s broom, or a hawker’s basket, with a shilling or two to stock them. We have only just time to hear that the penny dinners and the children’s dinners (with the aid of that most admirable institution, the Destitute Children’s Dinner Society) have gone on merrily, but are now, alas, in sore need of help, as indeed the whole work is — help in money as well as in sympathy and personal interest. Still, here too they had their Christ- mas-day, and a jolly one it was; for a party of 320 men, v/omen, and children were invited to a good dinner, tea, &c. (I like that ^ &c.’) in the Mission Hall. In issuing the invitations, care was taken to select the most deserving cases. One poor man went into a neighbour’s shop to buy two ‘fagots’ — a mystical savoury meal made of the ‘ inwards’ of a pig — with his last two- pence, for his family’s dinner on Christmas-day. He w^as known to be a deserving man, a painter out of work ; so the shopkeeper gave him tickets for the dinner. When he entered the building, he saw the banner, ‘ Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.’ With his eyes full of tears, he turned to his wife and said, ‘ Ay, Polly, an’ that’s true, if it never wor before.’ At tea-time the party was augmented by seventy of the fusee-hoys who throng round the Post-office, Exchange, and Mansion House. THE HOPE SCHOOLS. 261 After tea there was singing, with some religious ad- dresses, and a dissolving-view lecture on the life of Jesus. With this information (hut stay — don’t look whether it is a sovereign or a shilling that you have released from your purse) we take our departure ; and at the very door, where we rejoin our young cicerone, hear that ‘ last night three hundred costers, with their wives, were entertained at tea.’ To return for a moment to those Hope Schools where we were furnished with our young guide — now on his blithe way homeward with a shilling and a couple of rashers, which I fervently hope will be an agreeable addition to the tea of his only surviving parent, a poor woman who ^ goes out to wash when she can get it to do’ — to return to the ^Hope Schools for All,’ well worthy of their name. They began with a Sunday-school, which was opened in Blue Anchor-alley forty-eight years ago, and which remained there till 1850, wdien the present ground, belonging to the Society of Friends, but for some reason not used by that body, was granted for the present building, — funds for which were mainly collected and contributed by Mr. Greig of the City-road, who first used it for a British day- and Sunday-school, and then let it at a nominal rent to the committee of the Hope Schools, until his death about four years ago, when they obtained it in their own name. It would be difficult indeed to estimate the work that is being accomplished by its various agencies, not only in the instruction and moral improvement of the people around it, but in the direct alleviation of their distress ; 262 LABOURS OF LOVE. but the income is still so small that the labourers here are frequently half disheartened : and the treasurer, Mr. Eobert Young, of 125 Wood-street, Cheapside, begs that something may be added to the 245Z., which was all that they could collect for the efforts of the last official year. Personal help is earnestly sought also ; help in the schools and the mission work, both of which are in full operation, but depend solely on voluntary aid. This admirable effort is perhaps less specific and, I may add, without depreciating either, less demon- strative in its character than the Costermongers’ Mis- sion and some of the agencies connected with that institution. It has the quiet definite work before it that has come to it in long years of experience ; its report is short, simple, and remarkable for its almost Quaker-like simplicity of language and absence of start- ling appeal or allusion. Very little is said in it about the peculiar phase of wretchedness presented by the neighbourhood. A very clear summary of what is being done in the different sections of the mission concludes only with the following calm and pious reference : ^ To-night, therefore, we present what is substan- tially the forty-seventh annual report of the schools ; and in doing so, we would record our deep gratitude to Almighty God for having raised up a succession of labourers, through so long a period, to hold forth the word of life in this necessitous district.’ % Even in the necessary reference to the sort of cases where the visits of the Bible-woman have led to relief being afforded, the facts are stated with remarkable ab- SAD DISCLOSURES. 263 sence of comment. They need none ; for what terrible disclosures are included in their bare recital ! ^ M. H., left friendless and helpless, her father dead, her mother in the infirmary. ‘ T. B. is unable to accept a long-wished-for situa- tion, from want of clothing. ^ J. H. is carried off to one hospital, to have his foot amputated ; in the mean time his wife, sickening with typhus, is carried off to another. ^ J. N., at work as usual at home, suddenly drops down senseless ; the mother and daughter, both in bed with typhus, unfit to help even themselves, with the aid of another daughter, just recovered from fever, al- though unitedly unable to undress the dying man, con- trive to raise him into bed, where, after lingering a few days, he dies. ^ J. D. is away in the infirmary, her boy in the Fever Hospital; her husband, with little work, has to tend the remaining three, who, one after the other, sicken on his hands with typhus fever. ‘ Such instances are the frequent experience of any one visiting in a locality like this ; and they are now given in hope that the recital, meagre though it be, may touch the springs of liberality, in those able to place at the disposal of visitors the means of alleviating, in some degree, the misery that surrounds us. ‘ It may not be out of place here to mention the good that has been done with the parcels of old clothing, so kindly placed at our disposal by many friends of the mission. Two hundred articles have been given away 264 LABOUKS OF LOVE. during the year, and many a poor half-naked child has been comfortably clothed. At the end of this report, we record our thanks to those friends who have, by their seasonable gifts, so largely helped us; and we would earnestly beg the kind remembrance of other friends, that we may be enabled to extend a mode of relief so beneficial.’ I am, I think, better pleased with this almost reticent report than with many others that I have seen ; there is something consistent in its calm deliberation with the long experience that it has had amidst the district where it hopes on, and, what is better, works on still. And indeed it has reason to hope as well as to work. With its Sunday-school, where 80 scholars go in the morning, 292 in the afternoon, and 350 in the evening for instruc- tion ; with its Bible-classes; its ragged day-schools; its adult class, for teaching men and women to read and write ; its girls’ sewing classes ; its parents’ library of 160 volumes, where for a penny a-month subscribers have the use of the books, beside a gratuitous copy of the British Workman ; and not the least of all its cheer- ful observances, its soup-kitchen, children’s dinners, and parents’ tea-meetings, at the last of which about 400 poor people met in social enjoyment, — it represents a movement to which I heartily wish I could add an impetus that would spread its benign influence not only over Chequer-alley, but to all the wretched and neglected places which are the dark corners of this Great City. Not less useful, however, and, as far as I can judge, not less necessary, is the energy that is devoted to the THE costermongers’ MISSION. 265 neigilbouring agencies of the Costermongers’ Mission. There seems to be a certain lively ^ go’ and, if I may say so without any disparaging intention, self-assertion about this institution, whose report is entitled ^ After Office Hours,’ which is someway illustrative of the coster him- self. He is generally a lively bird, with a good deal of ^ slackjaw’ and a plucky disregard of obstacles in the way of doing as well as he can, that makes him a dis- tinct part of the London population. I fancy — still under apologetic protest — that there is in some sense a similar distinction about this mission in Hartshorn- court, Golden-lane. He and it are alike in best charac- teristics ; and I am fortunate in being able to take two separate Eagged School and mission establishments, within a stone’s throw of each other, and yet serving to illustrate two varieties of the work necessary to carry on the Labours of Love in the worst parts of London. The success of this effort, as far as its inauguration and continued superintendence are concerned, is due to one gentleman, Mr. W. J. Orsman, who seems to have devoted all his leisure to the work, and has found earnest coadjutors, who, like himself, have contrived to make the comparatively small amount contributed go a long way in aiding the poor creatures to whom they sought to carry consolation. The general expenses are about 200Z. ; the salary of the Bible-woman, who is their district-visitor, 32L ; but these cannot include the children’s dinners, the help for the sick and for lying-in women, the aid to the destitute and the starv- 266 LABOURS OF LOVE. ing, or the means of distributing comforts and second- hand garments to the naked. Mr. Orsman appeals urgently for help of any kind, either in money (which is best) or in cast-off clothes, books, women’s garments, flannel, or any commodity available to feed, cover, em- ploy, or teach the poor. ^ Our mission,’ he says in his report, ‘ specially aims to benefit the neglected costermongers, a class not easily accessible. They are rarely at home. To obtain the day’s vegetables, the coster must necessarily rise very early. He is at the market in time to unload the wag- ons for the market trade to good houses ; and for this he will receive a shilling. He waits for the clearings of the markets, which he obtains at prices varying from Ss, to 20s. for a truck-load. He may dispose of them all by dinner-time at a good profit ; but often he pushes his load, varying from 1 to 2 cwt., nearly all day before he obtains a dozen customers. In such cases he will take his stand in Whitecross-street, and sell the re- mainder of his stock to very poor people* at the lowest possible profit. At night he is found in the beer-shop, theatre, or the penny gaff. His home is therefore neg- lected ; and as that home consists entirely of one room, he has none of those sacred associations which cluster around our English firesides.’ Considering that out of some 20,000 inhabitants of that festering locality, within a furlong of the place whence we have looked down upon it, 30 per cent are costermongers or itinerant street-traders, there is work for those who will help in this Labour of Love ; ’and THE costermongers’ MISSION. 267 when the costers are well attended to, there is another 30 per cent of casual labourers almost in the condition of paupers ; 20 per cent of labourers, charwomen, needle- women, &c. ; and 20 per cent of such as follow the occu- pations of artificial flower-makers, brace and shoe sewers, toy-makers, wood - choppers, crossing - sweepers, bone- pickers, &c. It is the costers who have given a name to the in- stitution, however, and both they and the very children in the ragged school seem to exhibit that peculiar wide-awake-ativeness which is their characteristic, as well as that tendency ^ to jaw,’ to which I have already referred. ‘ What is a prophet ?’ asked the teacher, addressing one of the pupils in his class. ^ Why, it’s wot yer gets over when yer sells any- think,’ was the reply. To the question : ^ Why did Jairus rejoice when his daughter was raised from the dead ?’ another little fel- low ventured to surmise,, ‘ ’Cos it didn’t cost him nothink for the funeral.’ It is not very surprising to learn that these children are frequently aw^ay helping their parents. Indeed a good ^ barker’ — that is, a good boy to halloo — on one side of a street, while the hawker carries his wares on the other, is a great acquisition to a coster ; and one little fellow here, a diminutive lad little more than eight years old, takes out and places his mother’s vegetable stall in Whitecross-street daily before he goes to school. Some costermongers do not send their chil- 268 LABOURS OF LOVE. dren to school until the morning trade is over, while others after school-hours are vending fusees and even- ing-papers in the streets. For this purpose a few pu- pils are allowed to leave earlier in the afternoon. The children make rapid progress in their element- ary lessons ; no pains being spared to instruct them in reading, writing, and arithmetic; but it is literally a ragged school. Many of the children are shoeless, stockingless, and shirtless ; and such is the force of habit, that even when they become possessed of a pair of boots they ask the teacher to be allowed the favour of sitting in the school without them. Those who would really know what is the distress of this foul quarter should go with the missionary, or with one of the eighteen voluntary helpers who carry on the house-to-house visitation in connection with this mission. Now, indeed, as they will tell you, metropolitan improvements and railway monopolies have demolished so many small houses in other poor districts, that the courts and alleys are more crowded than ever with human beings. In the plain reports of that con- dition, of which they are the witnesses, we hear of a family of five persons, four dogs and a cat, who live and sleep in a small room ; of an old woman with eight cats ; and close by of a room where a family of seven live and sleep together, besides cooking and selling fried fish in the same apartment during the day. Another room is occupied by a jobbing tailor, his wife, and nine chil- dren ; in another, a cobbler, with eight in family ; and in two other small rooms, having only one outer door. EFFECTS OF LONDON IMPBOVEMENTS. 269 are three men, four women, and four children, who carry on their trades, and live and sleep together. A widow, with four children of the respective ages of 13, 11, 8, and 5 years, and a married daughter and her husband lived in a back room ten feet square, and for which they paid 2s. 9d. weekly. When visited all were ill with the fever. The mother and child died shortly after- wards. The room was filthy and desolate : it contained only a broken table, four chairs tied up with pieces of string, and a broken looking-glass. The bodies of the dead were like the room, and the visitors had even to supply coverings to bury them in. Whatever may he the effect of any national system of education on existing methods of instructing the children of the poor, it is scarcely likely that Eagged Schools will be abolished. Their name may he changed, and some of the details with which the present working is connected may undergo alteration; hut the success with which they have been attended, and their widely- spread influence as centres of relief and instruction to adults as well as to infants, to parents as well as chil- dren, seem to insure their recognition in any scheme that may be adopted. At all events, they have, to a great extent, proved that poor parents are not altogether unwilling to send their children to any school where a genuine interest is displayed in their welfare, and the unsectarian teaching of religion from the words of the Bible alone has been no insurmountable obstacle even to many poor Eoman Catholics whose hoys and girls attend the classes. 270 LABOURS OF LOVE. In . any scheme, however comprehensive, and even should it involve the substitution of some other method than that now adopted by this voluntary agency in deal- ing with the very poorest class of children, whose pa- rents will he held responsible for giving them the means of instruction, there must be some provision for a class still more destitute — a class to which the first ragged schools carried some hope of relief, and to which the developments of other agencies, of which these schools were the occasion, has afforded a great measure of per- manent help and the means of redemption from a life of vice and misery. When we have so completed our system of national education as to have garnered the very last child into a well-ordered school, with the grateful consent of its proper and legal guardians, what are we to do with the neglected and deserted little ones of this Great City, who either have no parents or have been sent adrift till they have lost the knowledge of parental care, and can esta-. Wish no claim ? The only legal guardianship now existing for them is, as I have tried to show, never really exerted by the State on their behalf until they have qualified them- selves by crime for legal cognisance, or have gone to the door of some casual ward to whine for a night’s shelter, and the uncertain reception of officials, of whom they have a natural dread ; to be followed, at the best, by admission to a pauper life, the daily circum- stances of which they have heard, and are warranted in believing, are often as penally oppressive as, and more A CHINK IN THE SOCIAL FABRIC. 271 destructive of every childish hope than, the punishment inflicted by actual imprisonment for crime. It is to children more or less in this deplorable con- dition that Eagged Schools have proved a boon ; and should the State ever set itself to work to make the future of England, by beginning at the very spring of I national life, and constituting itself the guardian, guide, and parent of these deserted little ones, it will already find some eminent examples of the way in which the work is to be accomplished. Homeless, but not Nameless. With regard to these children, a new vocabulary has come into use ; so that if we go on much longer, a list of euphemistic synonyms will have to be published, in order to relieve our delicate susceptibilities on the sub- ject of juvenile human suffering, want, and ignorance, with respect to the homeless and deserted boys and girls of the Great City. There is a stimulus in strong piquant epithets, as there is in drams of strong drink : they relieve our sur- charged feelings, and excite them at the same time. The worst of it is, that in both cases indulgence too often produces craving ; and gratification of the craving demoralises us, and precludes the power of useful and judicious comment, as well as of regular action. These synonyms answer too often the purpose of a pathetic speech, which draws tears instead of guineas from an audience. The weakly sentimental, which is by no 272 LABOUKS OF LOVE. means the most sympathetic, nature must secrete some- thing, and its contribution is quite as likely to take a lachrymal as an auriferous form. At the best, senti- mental synonyms, whatever may have been their original strength and adaptability to an immediate purpose, are like other epigrams : they cannot continue in use with- out the danger of their standing for expressions of facts, when they are only indications of facts. Thus names, however aptly applied to a class, as expressive of their special condition at any particular time, too soon come to be accepted as expressing an inevitable meaning, and so help to undo the work which they were originally meant to promote, by seeming to relieve us of the very responsibility of which they first reminded us. We have changed the titles of the homeless and destitute boys and girls — of everybody’s children — from ‘street Arabs’ to ‘young ravens,’ and even to ‘gutter children;’ the latter most offensive term having, I fear, been adopted from an article of my own, in which I spoke of them as being ‘ picked up from the gutter,’ but with no intention of fastening their innocent degrada- tion upon them as a badge. It comes to this, however : that there is no telling how many notes of the descrip- tive gamut may be sounded to very little purpose in re- ference to the general harmony, while we persuade our- selves that those on whom we bestow the pitifully- evasive epithets are ‘ nobody’s children.’ The truth is, that these forlorn boys and girls — these street Arabs whom we have been so ready to relegate to the great London desert as a race apart from ourselves — THE MEN AND WOMEN OF THE FUTURE. 273 are of our own heritage, and we have no birthright that does not also belong to them, inasmuch as they are indi- visibly connected with us for future good or future evil. They will be the men and women of the time to come — the brethren and sisters, the helpers or the hinderers, of those little ones who now sit round our tables, and who belong to us by the ties of close and loving rela- tionship. It may be that writers on this subject have drawn attention too exclusively to the utter misery and desti- tution of these little ones, regarding it from the well- fed and properly-clothed, the respectable and ^ comfort- able’ point of view ; that is to say, that their real pity and pain at what they see when they visit the haunts of the London Arab has for the time led them to re- gard such a life as one of almost utter unrelieved and irresponsible wretchedness. It would be indeed awful if this were so ; in fact, if we could really so regard it, and become actually possessed with such an idea, there would be no other course than for some of us — not pro- fessed philanthropists — to go out into the very streets and cry aloud like the prophets of old. A thorough sense of such a condition, and our own necessary share in it, would be too much for any but a very robust conscience ; and we have reason, perhaps, to be thankful that there are some mitigations which can prevent one being driven to a conclusion so inex- pressibly terrible. The question that must be asked, however, and will, one way or another, have to be ans- wered, is : are we to go on driving things ever as near as T 274 LABOURS OF LOVE. we may towards this horrible consummation ? or, what is the same thing : are we to leave to their bitter ends the operation of bad laws, of deep injustice, of inhuman neglect, and the superstition of selfish unbelief? It would, perhaps, be too much to ask any, even the most sentimental, professor of philanthropy, whether he would consider the state of these children, at their very best, a sufferable condition for one of his own little ones. We have scarcely reached that height of Chris- tian charity which could contemplate such a question without a dizziness in the head ; but we may at least claim for the neglected boys and girls of London (the raw material of the chronic pauper, the troublesome criminal, and the expensive convict) some part of the birthright of humanity, the teaching that inculcates a better hope than their highest aspirations now attain to, the help that would, at a very small sacrifice of selfish gratification, lift them above the deadly squalor and constantly-recurring misery of their daily life. And yet it is life : this is at once our best trust and our deepest reproach. When the half-famished, half-naked tatterdemalion, who holds out a muddy box of vesuvians as an excuse for begging, or thrusts his poor little body against the cab - wheel to guard our broadcloth from the mire, scampers off to exchange a volley of cunning jests with his companions, made momentarily blithe by a double donation, we are half inclined to envy him that buoyancy that can be so easily sustained even for a minute’s space. LONDON SHADOWS. 275 Ah ! but a pang should underlie that laugh of ours, nay friend — a pang to think that that immortal capacity of appreciation in him should have so little regard from us ; that we should be satisfied to estimate it at a penny’s worth, and join the age that has produced him and his like, in ignoring the claims that the very sight of him should set up. Some of us, who are known to have gained some experience of the darker side of this Great City where so many shadows fall, may have been asked : ^ What is the most terrible sight in London ?’ Supposing this question to be put to twenty people, there would probably be at least ten different answers to it. We should hear of the dreadful places in which the poor are compelled to live ; of those ^ worst neigh- bourhoods’ where all sorts of evil-doers hide from the light ; of the still more painful spectacle of painted vice flaunting abroad amidst the haunts of respect- ability ; of the quiet suburban villas, where the tenants pay the rent beforehand, and no questions are asked, and where the shameless invent names for the shame- ful — names which find their way even into the news- paper columns, and puzzle modest readers at .home, who wonder about that vague demi-monde, and some- way associate it with leading articles upon the difficulty of marrying on Civil- Service pay. We should be told of ^ midnight meetings’ and of dishonoured homes — of the struggles of the very poor to save themselves from the last dread of living humanity — the workhouse; of seam- stresses sewing away their lives for pence ; of girls 276 LABOURS OF LOVE. dying slowly in warehouses and workrooms amidst the costly garments which they make ; of women swiftly wearing away in the effort to keep themselves from thinking of the awful alternative that tempts them every night as they hurry homewards through the gaily - lighted streets, and feel the keen wind pene- trating their poor flimsy clothing to wake the cough that only nourishment and rest can still. All these are terrible indeed ; and thinking of them, we almost doubt which has the evil preeminence : but they are only results. Worse than these, and lying at the beginning of them all, is that which mocks our full- blown protestations of humanity and benevolence, gives the lie to our boasted enlightenment, stares our smug piety in the face with a grim laugh of pain, and is already menacing our future with a penalty that no single age can pay, since it is the accumulated debt of years and years of indifference and neglect. Looking to the future as well as to the pi:esent, the most terrible sight in London is its homeless children, the hoys and girls who (such of them as do not die-*- and they have a strange tenacity of life) are to make the men and women of the time to come. It is not given to many . of us to see much of them, and few people believe that they form a numerous class. Homeless children ! wdien we hear so much of industrial schools, and of training masters in metropolitan work- houses, and of prison discipline for the incorrigible, to he followed by the blessed ordinances of the reforma- tory ! HOMELESS CHILDREN. 277 Where are they ? where do they go to ? They must live somewhere, call it a home or not, as you like ; and the casual ward affords them a legal shelter, if they choose to claim it — a shelter and a morsel of dry bread, a drink of water, if not a bowl of thin salted gruel. Where are they ? They are not far to seek ; but they are difficult to find, for they are all at war with respectability, know- ing well that respectability neither believes nor pities them much ; and they have enough in them that is rat-like to seek their hiding-places in dark corners not far from the great highways, and so more secure from discovery than if they had made holes for them- selves out of sight and sound of the great traffic of the streets. Eiding homewards on your omnibus in summer time, you may see some of them turning ^ catherine-wheels’ in the dusty roadway, and running till they are mere quivering heaps of tatters, on the chance of a penny. Going up the silent highway of the Thames on board a steamer, you have noted them wallowing in the slime and ooze of the river-shore, whence they shout to you to ^ Chuck a copper!’ that they may show their contempt for evil savours by diving for it in the mud. Plashing along the streets on a wet night, you have heard their little bare blue feet patter on the stones for the chance of risking sudden death by opening the door of a cab. They start up suddenly at street-corners or from the pale glare of the lamps outside a tavern-door, or 278 LABOURS OF LOVE. emerge from the black patch of the cellar -flap that lies beneath the flaring gas-light of a gaudy gin-shop. They fight for orange-peel, or cigar-ends, or the name- less refuse that may be found about the dim pre« cincts of metropolitan theatres. They startle you with their plaintive wheedling whine as you pause at the entrance of doubtful and deserted streets. They seem to possess some occult property of keeping in the dim haze — the dark circumference that lies beyond all the brighter spots in all the larger thoroughfares — and come upon you suddenly from under the wheels of vehicles, with outstretched hands, asking you to buy cigar-lights, or to ‘ Kemember the sweeper!’ whose use- less broom-stump is his only stock-in-trade, where a crossing is impossible. Some of these poor miserable little rogues affect a farcical manner, and grin under the brim of a man’s hat or -assume a long-tailed coat, ac- quired no one knows how, hut worn as an incentive to cynical passengers who may give for fun what they would never concede to famine. Others have caught the pro- fessional whine of the blear-eyed man or woman who waits round the corner to seize their gains and replen- ishes the boxes of vesuvians intrusted to the boys, or the bunches of faint sickly- smelling flowers that make an excuse for the girls to beg more boldly. In this phase of their wretched lives we all know them, and think of them sometimes with an evanescent pity, pretending to hope that ^ it is all right,’ but know- ing full well that it is all wrong. It is only when they have nothing to sell, and dare not beg, and are driven ON THE SILENT HIGHWAY. 279 like vermin to their holes, where they lie shuddering in the wet and cold, dreaming those wild dreams of food that visit the starving, that we do not see them. Only a few of us know that awful side of their existence : the side that they themselves, with the shy instinct of the hunted and the hungry, hide from the eyes of society, and some- times die without revealing. Late wayfarers crossing some of the bridges at night may come upon them suddenly in the act of looking over the parapet into the stream below, and noting the ragged patches of moonlight reflected in it from the rift in the driving bank of cloud. Something moves in the dim recess of the stone-work in which we stand, and, peering down, we see a moving form, the gleam of a white limb amidst a mass of tatters. It is difficult to distinguish whether it is a human form or not, and yet there are limbs too — many limbs. There are stealthy eyes look- ing out to see what new enemy has come to this refuge for the destitute. Two or three pairs of eyes, scowling, furtive, almost threatening, and with the dogged, hunted glare in them that is so sad to see. The owners of these eyes are huddled together to form a mutual shelter against the chill night air ; and you had better pass on your way. What can you do except call the attention of the law to their illegal repose, and have them driven away to seek another resting-place on the damp sodden earth beneath the dark arches ? Very few visitors will dis- turb them in these last-named retreats, whether the arches belong to the bridge or to the railway, for they 280 LABOUKS OF LOVE. lie in nobody’s road after dark. The dark arches of the bridge, about which we heard so much a long time ago, have diminished in number ; and though the dim light of a candle-end and the smouldering fire of straw and shavings sometimes flicker in those dreary caverns, and for a few moments reveal a glimpse of this awful mystery of London, these haunts are less sought after now that the railways have provided better accommodation. The coal-wagons are a temptation ; but the visits of the police are more frequent ; the works on the river-bank have opened up access from the main thoroughfares, and great gloomy spaces leading down to the edge of the shore are closed, or are taken for warehouses, to ease the great plethora of commerce. It is to the arches of the railway — those great bare blank walls of brick which are sometimes supposed to have made a clean sweep in a whole neighbourhood of evil repute, but which in reality build the traffic of foot - passengers out of the slums which crouch behind them — that the homeless children go for shel- ter, happy if an empty van, a cart, a wagon, a pile of timber is lying there to keep them from the bitter wind. Is there a carpenter’s shop, a smith’s shop, a nook of brickwork, or any sort of projection that can hide a dog : there you may find a child for whom the law has done no more than to teach him that practically everybody is supposed to be guilty till he can prove himself innocent; and for whom the Gospel has done nothing, for he has heard no part of it. The glad tidings of greatest joy to him would be to learn BY THE CELLAR-FIRE. 281 where to find food and fire and a bed this piercing night, without being ^ jawed at’ and ^knocked about,’ and treated like — well, no ! there is a Society for the Pre- vention of Cruelty to Animals, which would protect the dog. As it is, the best chance of a night’s lodging is that afforded by the threepenny lodging-house. There, at least, there is a fire in the wide skillet that warms the dingy cellar. Are they therefore well-conducted and tidy resorts ? Well, those that are really lodging-houses are better than most people would think. There is, as I have said, a fire in the dingy cellar, where a few silent and depressed lodgers sit at the rough deal table to eat such scraps of food as they have taken in with them. There is very little hilarity here ; and the few wretched lads who contrive to spend threepence for the unwonted luxury of a bed generally go up to the sleeping-rooms at once, to have their ^ threepenn’orth out.’ Happy those who go to sleep at once, so that, though there may be thieves amongst the lodgers, though they may themselves have pilfered the threepence that enables them to rest their aching bones, there is less oppor- tunity for evil communications. The broken-down, the weary, the miserable, the tramp who has come to seek ‘a job of work,’ the wretched sot who, having nothing left for gin, and being a painter and grainer, mixes the methylated spirit used in his trade with water, and takes it instead of a dram ; the ^ flash man’ out of luck, the respectably-connected youth who has ^ gone wrong,’ 282 LABOURS OF LOVE. and so readied this stage on his downward road — all are to be seen at the common lodging-house more fre- quently than the homeless ones of London. Sometimes these poor forlorn hoys and girls get some chance lodg- ing in a room-corner where two or three families divide the few feet of space. Nothing is more common than to hear that they ‘ slept last night at a room where a woman gave them shelter,’ somebody having died or gone aw^ay, and left a vacant corner on a bed of straw or an old sack. Even this they think is better than the markets, where they sometimes sleep on damp potato-sacks, or crawl by lucky chance under the tar- paulin of a country wagon, or lie upon the vegetable refuse, amidst which they grub for scraps of carrot, turnip, or cabbage-stumps, and devour them greedily to stifle the gnawings of their tormenting hunger. And yet, unless the bitter weather freezes the life out of them, these wretched children do not venture to the casual wards. There are ten chances to one against half of them being admitted there ; nay, I will go far- ther, and say that there is not room for half of them in all the casual wards in London. They would be driven away, probably with curses, perhaps with blows, unless they were big enough and old enough to insist upon their right to sleep in that draughty and yet stifling shed, where the faint heat of the coke-fire paralyses the very flies upon the whitewashed wall, and where every sense is offended by the blasphemous crew, who hold their own when once they have passed the ordeal neces- sary for admission. HUMAN -WASTE. 283 Yes, the most terrible sight in London is that of oiir homeless children. Kegarding it from the coldest utilitarian point of view as only a dreadful waste of material, it is surely time that something should be done to save these perishing bodies and degraded intelligences. Those who know something of these neglected little ones are constantly struck with the remarkable variety of their characteristics, and with the keen ability which many of them display ; struck, perhaps, still more by the remarkable grace and symmetry to be seen in some of them when care and food and rest have been success- ful in redeeming their poor emaciated bodies from the disease and torture of the streets ; struck, it may be, most of all, by the beauty, the refinement of some of those faces, which seem to change their lineaments when the hard mask of defiance and doubt and suffering falls off under happier influences. These discoveries, however, are made by few ; and, alas, the objects of them are themselves few when it is remembered how large is the number of the destitute boys and girls for whom the law makes no provision except that they shall be perpetually moved on and watched and hunted until they commence a definite career of crime, when it at once takes cognisance of them, gives them a kind of status by its kindly recog- nition, and consigns them to a home which is supplied with such physical fomforts that it is a wonder more of them do not matriculate earlier for the premium offered by the prison dietary and the well-warmed cell. 284 LABOUES OF LOVE. This is nearly all that is done for them, and this only when they have reached a certain grade of thief- hood ; for the petty pilferers who are consigned to the shorter terms of imprisonment are hut sparely fed on bread and gruel, and among them are mere children ; little fellows who, had they been horn members of a decent family, would have escaped with a whipping and a bread-and-water dinner as an adequate punishment. ^ The prisoner whose head scarcely reached to the top of the dock’ is less fortunate. Little as he has been taught, he knows one thing well, — that he must eat to live, and that he ought to work in order to eat. Work? who would employ him ? Where is his father ? He doesn’t know; perhaps he died when people said he had gone way. And his mother ? He hasn’t seen her for ever so long. She ran away and left him ; and when he went one night to the room where she used to live, the neighbours told him she’d gone into the country. She may he dead too, for aught he knows ; and as he stands there, his little, wistful, doubtful, cunning face raised towards the bench, those who can see beneath the mask of dirt may perceive something in the child — some grace of feature, or height of brow, or delicacy of form — which leads them to ask with renewed emphasis, ^ Who is his father ?’ Has this child ever met his mo- ther, unknown to himself and her, as she was flaunting her wretched finery in those West-end streets where he has crouched and seen her pass in at the door of the gin-palace, to find her own comfort in the London sub- stitute for fire and food ? PETTY PILFERERS. 285 We hear references made now and then to the in- dustrial schools founded by the Government ; but they do not provide for a tenth part of the number of the homeless children who are to be found in London streets — children who are guilty of no crime except that for which the law has no sympathy whatever — destitu- tion. It is true that in the case of a child under four- teen years of age coming before a magistrate, his wor- ship may give a warrant for his admission to one of these schools if there is any vacancy ; and under this arrangement the managers of the schools receive a fee of five shillings for every boy received ; but what chance does this leave for the admission of a sick and starving lad who voluntarily seeks a refuge ? As no boys of more than fourteen years of age are received in the Government industrial schools, and as no other resources are provided for lads who come to London from all parts of the country, and find them- selves starving and naked in the stony-hearted streets, where they have neither friend nor home, it becomes a very terrible question what is to be done with them. What is done with many of them depends upon their dishonesty. When once one of these boys steals some- thing, and is taken before a magistrate, he becomes a candidate for a reformatory. His best chance of a re- fuge, where he will be fed and clothed and taught some- thing of a trade, lies in the probability of his having committed a crime. This being the actual state of things in the ‘ fore- most city of the world, the centre of civilisation,’ it is 286 LABOUES OF LOVE. little wonder that earnest and benevolent men, who knew something of this most terrible sight, having arrived at really practical and certain information from their con- nection with Ragged Schools, and a careful inquiry into the condition of some of the children attending them, should have set about devising a remedy. It is only during the past four years, however, that the largest institution founded for this purpose in London has been able to effect a considerable work; but it has begun now to reap the benefits of its hopeful struggle on be- half of these children, who may be said to belong to us all ; and already four branch institutions have sprung from the parent society, while the secretary and the committee are asking for aid to establish a fifth. We have all heard of this noble work — all of us who read the newspapers, at least. Every destitute child in London has a claim on it ; and that claim is allowed while there is a shilling to buy a meal and a little bed to receive the applicant. No form has to be gone through : the poor little friendless outcast goes, or is taken, to the house in Great Queen-street, Bloomsbury, or, if it is a girl, to Broad-street, close by, and there finds food and warmth and rest ; and after a few inquiries finds also a score of friends ; looks shyly and wonderingly — perhaps still doubtingly — at the smiles on faces where only frowns might hav6 been expected; begins to grow stronger ; gets an appetite for work, a larger appetite still for reading and writing and the multipli- cation table, and the largest appetite of all for school- feasts and occasional treats ; and so becomes a regular THE BOYS REFUGE. 287 inmate of the Kefuge for Homeless and Destitute Chil- dren. Of this healthy appetite for work, of which I have just spoken, we shall have the best proof by visiting the place itself — the Boys’ Refuge, that is to say, at the parent institution in Great Queen-street. It looks like a place intended to answer its purpose. There is im- mediate aid on the very face of it ; and the door opens at once upon a scene of activity which, without adopting any model principle, and in the absence of any system of election, has made this large family of more than a hundred boys a community contributing to its own sup- port, and learning daily something of the true dignity and worth of labour. Not a very fine house — not a house at all in the ordinary sense of the term, for the place was formerly a coach-builder’s factory, and the various apartments have been readily adapted to the necessity for dormitories, a great dining-room, kitchens, and workshops for shoe- making, carpentering, firewood-cutting, and tailoring. A rough-and-ready-looking place enough, with very little spent for decoration, and only such necessary repairs and alterations as suffice to make it comfortable and avail- able for its present purpose. Rough, but very ready, as you will admit when you hear that by far the larger num- ber of the inmates came of their own accord,, or with thankful acceptance of the offer to take them there ; that pictures of the workshops and the work done here are sent to casual wards, and other places where destitute and abandoned boys who cannot read may see them, and be 288 LABOURS OF LOVE. led to inquire how they may join the company of young shoemakers, tailors, and carpenters. Many of the in- mates go out to situations, coming to the refuge to sleep at night, and even having their meals here until they can earn money enough to keep them comfortably. Others emigrate to the colonies, where there are well- known correspondents, who write to Mr. William Wil- liams, the secretary of the institution, asking him to send out Eefuge carpenters, tailors, shoemakers, do- mestic and farm servants, or nursemaids to situations which will he kept vacant till their arrival. It will be seen from this information that the institu- tion is not only wide in its efforts to embrace the most needy, but deeply rooted in its provision for the future of those who have once come to claim its care. The letters received from those who owe to it temporal prosperity, as well as moral and religious teaching, are in themselves affecting testimonials both to the necessity for the work, and to the wise discretion with which it has been carried on. Shoemaking is the most prominent business evi- dently, the lower front window being, in fact, devoted to the display of boots and shoes, mostly of a very sub- stantial character, as suited to the customers to whom it is intended they shall most readily appeal. The moment you open the door you are in the midst of shoemaking, and the whole place smells of leather, wax-ends, and new hemp ; while the thirty or forty boys seated on the little low stools might be so many mechanical toys with arms moved by machinery, except that they look a great PRIDE IN EARNING MONEY. 289 deal too serious, and several degrees too sensible, for toys. Serious, that is, with the proud consciousness of earning something, and of making something that people will come and buy at a fair market price, knowing that they have their value for their money. It is the same with the tailors, who, though they are employed principally in making and mending their own clothes and those of their fellow-inmates, are doing no less useful work. Indeed, among the admirable arrangements of this institution is included that uncommon one of begin- ning at the beginning ; and when once the boys learn how to turn out tidy boots and shoes, or to use needle and thread skilful^, they make their own clothes, and supply both themselves and the girls with good strong neat shoes ; while the girls, in their refuge at Broad- street, make shirts for the boys, as well as their own clothes ; and the girls at the country refuge at Ealing do most of the laundry work for both institutions. Then the carpenters are handy fellows enough, their occupation being principally confined to plain boxes, cases, and other easj^ jobs for customers, together with such repairs and fittings as may be wanted indoors. The woodcutters do a capital stroke of business, as may be imagined when we learn that they cut up and sold about 30,000 bundles of firewood during a year. In the same period above 2,000 pairs of boots and shoes were made, and a still greater number repaired ; about 1,400 new articles of clothing were made, and more than twice as many repaired, beside mattresses made and re- paired, and other work done for customers. A good TJ 290 LABOURS OF LOVE. round sum of money has been taken for errand-boys’ work, and also for haymaking ; a pretty fair proof that the appetite already twice spoken of is a healthy and a well-directed one. There is little to arrest attention here in the place itself : it is simply a succession of workshops ; and the instructors are busy directing the various operations of their separate trades; but there are indications which give rise to much pleasant reflection. One of them is. the evident admission of play as well as work ; for ever while we are looking about us the sounds of hammer and , saw and plane cease, there is a hum and a murmur, and when we go down again (for remember it is Saturday) the boys have doffed their aprons, washed their hands, and are busily engaged at a table cutting old copy-books into shapes which are presently to be cunningly attached to coloured paper, rosettes, and other ornaments, to adorn the great dining-room for the ^ annual dinner.’ Not the annual dinner of patrons and subscribers, but of the inmates themselves — of the young mechanics, who are in the enviable position of hosts, the girls from the neighbouring refuge in Broad- street, the rosy-cheeked shy country cousins from the home in the old-fashioned village of Ealing, the agricultural branch of the family at Woking, and those fresh, broad-shouldered, breezy fel- lows who will make a voyage from Greenhithe, and have only just come ashore in time to be present at the family party. I shall have more to say of these naval heroes presently ; but first stay for a moment to look at this frame full of photographs — portraits of the once friend- THE GIKLS’ REFUGE. 291 less and homeless, who, having found friends and a home, and a new life opening to them, have sometimes deve- loped, under the happy influences of genial charity and practical religion, from something very little higher than the rodent animal into something not much lower than the very angels themselves. We will peep into the dormitories — clean, airy, and with comfortable beds ; the infirmary, with only one pa- tient laid up with — chilblains (how tenderly the worthy secretary looks at his poor little foot, and cheers him up with a laughing remonstrance!); the schoolroom, where a few of the youngest inmates are busy with ^ sim- ple addition,’ and ^pot-hooks and hangers;’ and then we will turn into the street and round the corner, where, in the midst of what was hut lately one of the lowest neighbourhoods of London — and has not yet recovered from its reputation — a large modern building has been converted into a Kefuge for Homeless and Destitute Girls who have not been convicted of crime. A very neat place too, and with such wide airy staircases, such { large and lofty dormitories, that as you enter there is a brisk breeze blowing all through the house whenever more than one door at a time is opened ; a breeze sur- prisingly fresh too, when we consider that it comes through the ample French windows direct from courts and alleys in mid-London. The schoolroom, where a number of neat-looking girls are sewing, is, if possible, still more attractively fresh ; and the maps, the books, the very desks and forms, are as clean as good honest use will permit, or 292 LABOURS OF LOVE. as equally good and honest scrubbing can make them. The kitchens, too, are just now in full swing, and as we enter them a meaty and mealy gale salutes us, not altogether without a faint flavour of soapsuds, how- ever — a peculiarity immediately accounted for by the glimpse of a washhouse-door left ajar, beyond which four energetic young women, of from ten to twelve years of age, are practising the art and mystery of laundry work, not with patent appliances and steam apparatus, but in genuine old-fashioned tubs suited to their size. I fancy, from the briskness of their elbows, that they are engaged in the operation known as ^rubbing down,’ but all is in a cloud of vapour and a fleecy scud of lather. There is just time to catch the train to Ealing, where we may be in time to see another company of young women, averaging in age from six to fourteen or fifteen, at dinner. Such a quiet wide-fronted villa residence, with such a passage, such a parlour, such bedrooms, such a laundry, such a garden, and such a matron (a single lady at present, though we adopt the endearing title used by her daughters here and call her ^ matron’) as it does one’s heart good to see. Talk of boards that you might eat from ! why, you not only might, but it would be a positive pleasure to eat from the boards at Ealing, they are so much cleaner than most tables that one meets with in a casual way. The girls here — of whom there are about forty — are trained for domestic servants ; and I am not surprised to learn that they are mostly bespoken before their term of training is com- THE EALING HOME. 293 pleted. The parlour, a handsome room looking on to the garden at the back, is furnished as it might he in any gentleman’s, house, and the sleeping - rooms are fitted with spotless bedding, the matron’s and schoolmis- tresses’ apartments representing the ^best bedrooms.’ The laundry work is a great feature, and the laun- dry itself, with drying-room and ironing-room, is ad- mirably contrived by the alteration of a very large coach-house, stable, harness-room, and coachman’s room and hayloft, which formed part of the premises. The great glory of the place, however, is a genuine old- fashioned garden, with such vegetables and such fruit trees and hushes, that the brisk lady who is matron and adviser and friend has grand festivals of jam-making, in which caldrons full of materials for rolly-poley pud- dings and treat-day tarts are prepared for the winter. In fact, between preserving, and pickling, and preparing herbs, and salting-down pork and bacon, and being in general everywhere and doing everything at once, but without confusion, and with a cheerful vivacity which is surely a blessing to these poor children, who are often taken to the Kefuge in a very depressed condition, the matron is busier than any bee in that Home-and-Colo- nial-School hive where she was formerly a pupil. Once a-year the girls who have left the refuge — no longer homeless and destitute, but in good situations — come to tea there with Mr. Williams, and perhaps one or two members of the committee. Then they may seek advice, counsel, or encouragement, the latter symbolised by a silver medal, which is presented to each of those 294 LABOUKS OF LOVE. who can bring a year’s good character. It may he fear- lessly asserted that at no public or private school in the kingdom could there he more encouraging instances of continued well-doing than is afforded by the inmates of these refuges. A blessed harvest to reap indeed : a harvest from the outcast of the Great City — from the re- fuse of the very streets : a golden guerdon for the nation, picked up from the gutter. But why are there ever empty beds ? why any unoccupied spaces in the rooms at all three places ? Alas, the necessities are still so much greater than the means — the space so much larger than the subscription-lists. Fifteen pounds will keep a boy or girl for a year; a shilling’s worth of postage- stamps sent by a hundred thousand helpers would add to our country scores of decent men and women, instead of storing up a legacy of ignorance, crime, and hate in the time to come. It is a very noble work to be done at a very small cost. It might be even worth the sacrifice of a few cigars a-year, or the omission of one dinner- j)arty in the London season. For there is a thing on which the committee of these refuges have set their hearts. Weak children, sick children, children poisoned with the foul odours of stifled courts and reeking sewers, and wanting only the fresh country air and the green fields to set them up into promising lads, are among the number who implore your help. At the same time there is a demand in some of our colonies (from wLich letters come to Broad-street, Bloomsbury) for lads and lasses who know something of farm-work and the busi- ness of ordinary country life and agriculture. THE TRAINING SHIP. 295 To meet both these wants, a country farm is wanted. The land has been purchased, the buildings erected, and one hundred boys are already hard at work in farm- house operations at their juvenile homestead at Bisley, near Woking. Their numbers should be increased, and I there should be a country home for girls too. The work may easily be done if only the funds can be obtained. It might be thought that the nation would respond by a voluntary impulse to such an appeal. It would only be a fitting return for what the promoters of these refuges have done for it; witness the training- ship Chichester. You have seen that fioating ark in which so many young souls have been preserved from the awful deluge of vice and despair ? No ! Then let us run down to Greenhithe, and not a hundred paces from the railway- station we shall see her great black hull lying off* in the stream. There is no mistaking it, for in white letters painted on her side we read ‘ Chi- chester Training Ship for Homeless Boys.’ See,, we slacken this rope on the signal-mast beside the little pier, and the ascending ball, seen from the deck, will bring a boat to us presently, rowed by a dozen sturdy young able-bodied mariners, clad in a jolly nautical fashion in blue-serge shirts, blue trousers, a great open collar of the true man -o’ -war pattern, and a cap with orthodox ribbon streamers, and the name of the ship upon the band. While they come, you shall hear what set the Chi- chester afioat, chartered her, and sent her here well found and victualled, manned with as bright a crew 296 LABOURS OF LOVE. as ever stepped a deck or lay snug in their two hun- dred hammocks, dreaming of the murmur of the sea, or waking now and then with a vague hut painful memory of that past awful life from which they have been snatched by a press-gang of which it would well become us all to be active members. This was the way of it. It began with a supper, to which the homeless boys of London were invited. Invitations were sent to the casual wards, to the common lodging-houses, to all sorts of places wliere boys were known to lurk, starving and destitute. Just fancy that large room in Great Queen-street; the long tables filled with these poor outcasts of the town, in their rags, and with wild sus- picious eyes gleaming from under their tangled hair. Could they believe it ? Well, seeing was believing, and there it was. Koast beef, hot plum-pudding, coffee, and a welcome from Earl Shaftesbury, who went about among them. The regular inmates of the refuge were interspersed among them too ; so that there was a leaven of order ; and even the grace before and after meat was sung in a way that was as affecting as the highest triumph of the musical art could have made it. The object of that meeting was to get an answer to one question — ^ Now, boys, if a ship were moored in the Thames, how many of you would be willing to go on .board T Seldom has such a collection of little dirty hands been seen as that which responded to this invita- tion. To go on board ship ! the very thing that they had been wishing for all their lives, one might have thought ; and yet there were boys there who had never GETTING ON BOARD. 297 seen a large ship, and didn’t know what was the name of the river on the muddy shore of which they had pad- died and ducked for coppers. There only remained to memorialise the Government for a vessel (we all know that many of them are likely to lie rotting uselessly about the harbours of the world) ; and, in answer to the appeal, the hull of a fifty-gun frigate 'was handed over to the committee. Only the hull, with the concession that masts, sails, and other stores might be drawn from the dockyard for the comple- tion of the ship to the value of a little more than 2,000L, for which only nine months’ credit was to be given. Let this be remembered when we read the debates in the House on the Navy Estimates, and see what the nation has to pay for useless experiments ; let this be remembered, too, in connection with the fact, that our navy, and especially our mercantile marine, has long been so deteriorating that merchants look to the future with dismay : and we shall then be better able to esti- mate what is the value of the work to be done on board the Chichester, where two hundred boys may be thor- oughly trained for sea- service. There is only one such noble ship upon the river, for the funds are not sufficient to do more than fill all those neat hammocks slung in the long light airy lower deck. But here comes the boat, brought alongside in a masterly manner ; and here is the stroke-oar waiting to lend you a hand. Do you see that medal on his blue shirt ? It comes from the Humane Society, and he gained it for jumping overboard after one of his messmates who 298 LABOURS OF LOVE. in simple carelessness fell overboard from the deck. A fresh-coloured, smart, active fellow he is too, and his boat’s crew is as trim and taut as the craft itself. Easy, all ! Here we are alongside without so much as rubbing a speck off the paint, and now up the landsmen’s gangway to the deck, where the captain is waiting to receive us. We may note — God knows how gladly — that when we go amongst the boys there is no half - doubting look, no sudden hush of the talk, which, by the bye, goes on in a serene, reflective tone, as though the lads had already caught the seaman’s habit of rumina- tion. That which strikes the visitor to the Chichester at first sight is the absence of rigorous or repressive discipline — the encouraging method adopted — the fre- quent change of occupation, and yet the orderliness that seems to be maintained by the boys themselves. The whole crew is drawn up in file : two long rows along the main deck ; all but the boat’s crew, who are just now busy with their dinners, which have been kept hot for them while they came ashore for us. Would you like to know what the dinner is ? Sea-pie, or I’m not to be trusted as a judge of savoury smells. Yes, sea-pie : and not only that, but a separate sea-pie for each hardy mariner. Here it is, smoking hot on his plate at this moment. Crust, layer of mutton, layer of onion, mealy potato, rich gravy — all blending in one delicious steam. Soup and meat, or meat with a good allowance of fresh vegetables, and a hunch of such deli- cious bread that it beats any cake within ordinary expe- SEA-PIE. 299 rience — with occasional fruit-puddings and pies — is the daily dinner served at twelve o’clock. If you want to give a professional gentleman a moment’s pleasure, we can introduce you to our ship’s baker. A sturdy lad, with a canny expression in his honest face, as though he knew exactly where the difference lay between his hatch of brown and his batch of white, but defied you to find it out, or to say which you liked best after you had eaten of both. The bakery — right down in the hold — is a model of convenience ; and the superfluous heat from the ovens, carried up a hollow iron tube, serves to warm the great lower deck and its long rows of sleepers during the cold winter nights. By the time we are on the main deck again the various classes have been drafted off. Here a dozen studious-looking fellows are learning of the bo’sun the art of making splices and knots, and the way of rig- ging running gear. The bo’sun gives his lesson, chaffs one or two of the slow ones a little, and then leaves them to a monitor, who sets them to work in a thoroughly professional manner. Farther on, two thoughtful lads, one with a bright open Irish face, are studying the ropes and spars of a pretty model barque, and are setting up new rigging here and there upon its masts. Divided by a wooden partition is the schoolroom, where lads of va- rious ages are writing in copy-books, absorbed in the mysteries of compound subtraction, or are reading some entertaining book to the master, who looks as bright as everybody else does on board. Bound the corner, on 300 LABOURS OF LOVE. the other side, is a little cabin, where the matron is teaching some of the hoys plain sewing, with a brisk blending of good-humoured reproof and motherly en- couragement pleasant to see, especially when one clean- faced but rather clumsy-looking little fellow catches our eye, as he meekly takes his reproof, and breaks out im- mediately into a merry grin and such an expression of comic forbearance that we had better go away to laugh. Shoemaking is going on close by, under the direc- tion of an instructor, who comes on board for a few hours twice a-w^eek ; and in another select spot, on this great main deck, is the most amusing sight of all. Of course, among so many boys there must always be some two or three who want their hair cut ; and this department of industry is entirely trusted to amateurs, who operate upon each other with a gravity than which nothing can be more ludicrous. Seated on a chair set upon a square piece of sailcloth, and regularly invested with the tradi- tional drapery of the tonsorial victim, anybody would look grotesque enough ; and the boys, who regard this as quite a serious performance, in that respect differ very little from other people. It is the operator who — in his deep anxiety, his efforts to achieve a marked ’suc- cess, which lead him to call all sorts of bodily contor- tions to his aid, his frequent references to the taste and judgment of the patient — is so wonderfully entertain- ing; almost as entertaining as the extraordinary pro- ceedings of the elementary swimming-class — a class, by the bye, which sometimes includes the whole school. SWIMMING PRACTICE. 301 We sincerely hope that the results of this tuition may be speedily successful, for three or four lads have fallen overboard, by sheer carelessness, since the ship has been anchored at Greenhithe ; and though two of them were drowned, no blame could attach to any one on board. In one case their former commander (Captain Alston) im- mediately leaped into the water ; but the great strength and rapidity of the tide swept the boy away before he could reach him, though he was an expert swimmer, and made every effort until he was himself almost exhausted; in the other instance, the lad already mentioned as the stroke-oar of the cutter was equally prompt, and, we re- gret to say, equally unsuccessful. There is no danger in the method of instruction, however, except that of a brisk knock on the head or the shins ; for, perhaps without being aware of it, the boys of the Chichester are first taught on the plan recommended by Dr. Franklin in his celebrated book, the Whole Art of Swimming, which commences by advising the student ^ never on any ac- count to go near the water until he knows how to swim.’ To carry out this admirable principle, the Chichester boys are instructed to draw largely on their imagina- tions : to regard the smooth, clean, solid deck of the vessel as the element with which they have to contend, and then, lying down upon it at full length on their faces, to go through the proper motions at the word of command. It may be imagined that this is rare fun when all the boys are practising in more or less concert ; and perhaps it may form a part of the regular institution of thoroughly jovial play, which is as much a part of the 302 LABOURS OF LOVE. Chichester discipline as work or study. But they have a real swimming-bath also, a kind of sunk barge moored alongside, and gradually deepening from about three feet to five feet of water ; a barge built of open timbers, so that the water continually flows through it, while the strong current is completely checked within its protect- ing sides. They are a jovial crew there in that great black hull, out in the lights and shadows of the swift river. ^ Up about half-past five in summer, and half-past six in win- ter ; washes decks and then stow hammocks ; and then we has a wash ourselves ; and then breakfast — cocoa, with milk and sugar, and half a pound o’ bread ; then j prayers ; after we’ve sung a morning hymn, some goes aloft, and some to dpck-work for to learn seamanship, and some to school, shoemaking, tailoring, or what not ; and sometimes a lot of us go ashore with the boat, and bring things off ; and then dinner at twelve, such as you see, and school again ; and so on till tea-time — tea and bread ; and then we have singing sometimes — 0 yes, and we can sing songs too, if we like, ’cos we’ve got a reg’lar Chiches- ter song-book, you see ; and there’s fifes and drums, and draughts, and games on the lower deck, and sometimes a meeting; and sometimes we goes skylarking about just as we like, and a-bed about eight or half-past.’ Such is the brief resume of an A.B. aged about thirteen, who forms one of a select party looking at the cutting up of skins for ^ uppers ;’ and it doubtless repre- sents roughly an ordinary working day. Captains of merchant ships are already on the look-out for hoys from the Chichester, and with good reason. They know A HOME AND FRIENDS. 303 more than half the lubberly ’long-shore men who skulk about our seaports to book as ordinary seamen ; and a Chichester boy with a year’s training will soon command fair wages in a well-found ship. There is an esprit de corps among them too ; and letters are constantly re- ceived from lads who have gone to sea declaring their intention to ^keep up the credit of the Chichester.’ The progress of every boy is tabled on a great board hung up on the main deck, and divided into a number of small compartments, so that each one has against his name a line of little pigeon-holes, representing the classes through which he must pass. As he passes that class, its pigeon-hole is filled up with a piece of wood till he reaches the last, which is filled with a gold plug, and he is thus proclaimed ‘ ready for sea.’ Only a year or so after the vessel was afloat, all the crew went with the captain to the Crystal Palace to join the great gathering of the choirs ; and the cap- tain lost all hands, and grew a little anxious when the time came for returning, lest there should be some missing from the appointed try sting-place. No, not one. They were there to a boy ; and so they were at the London-bridge terminus. The great roar and glare of the mighty city had no temptations for them ; they had penetrated to its hard hollow heart long ago, when they were homeless and destitute. It is a strange thought that these lads have found a home and friends by going, in a manner, to sea ; and that when they stand upon the deck of that great ship, and follow the river’s track Londonward, they go from instead of going to the only home they ever knew, except the parent re- 304 LABOURS OF LOVE. fuge in Great Queen-street, where the secretary knows every boy among them, his name, his face, his history, and can show you some wonderful pictures — photographs of these boys as they are now, broad-chested, strong- limbed, open-eyed, and with the light of honest effort in their young faces ; and as they were when, pinched with famine, crouching, shambling, and with downcast but defiant cunning looks, they .had just been taken ^ from the streets. To see these photographs is in itself Y a strange and terrible lesson : worth much love — worth also some money. If the reader should have both to / spare, Mr. Williams is to be found at the parent insti- \ tution itself, 8 Great Queen - street, Lincoln’s - inn- fields. I There is no pleasanter holiday sight round London \ than her Majesty’s ship Chichester; for it is her Ma- 1 jesty’s — a gift to the Queen and the nation from those ) who have had the rescue of Nobody’s Children at heart, in order that they might become Everybody’s Children ; j who have regarded those little, bright, keen, intelligent | creatures as something akin to ourselves — meant for noble purposes, immortal lives ; not as so much waste | and refuse in the great stock-taking represented by re- / gistrars’ returns, but as a valuable heritage of ./hich we 1 must surely give some account other than that which ■ we may derive from the statistics of criminal prisons / and the records of pauperdom. j Paupers ! thieves ! The very words seem out of place / on board the Chichester, where, on the great, clean, airy maindecks, the blithe crew, in their blue uniforms, i are at school, or in the various classes. It is good to \ OUT OF THE ROOKERY. 305 remember, as I have said already, that captains in the merchant service are anxious to secure ^ Chichester boys,’ as having a better knowledge of their duties than half the grown-up loafers who ship before the mast ; good to find that there are volunteers who are received into the Queen’s service, and will help to sustain the cre- dit of the national marine ; and that as we leave the vessel’s side, and hear the lads who man the yards sing, ^ We’ll fight and wee’ll conquer again and again,’ we may ' thank God that a greater victory has been achieved there than any conquest of a foreign foe, and may hope that we shall soon as a nation take up arms against our selfishness and slothful conceit, and make the homeless and the destitute our own children — the children of the State. But I should like to refer briefly to the very begin- ning of this Labour of Love ; a beginning small enough when we consider to what it has led, although, had its real and national significance been duly estimated, it should have grown to far larger dimensions. In 1843, in a small room over a cow-shed in what was then known as the Eookery of St. Giles’s, a few ragged children were assembled for instruction twice a- week, and on Sunday afternoons. It was discovered that comparatively little good could be effected in the rescue of these neglected boys and girls unless they could be redeemed from the degraded conditions that surrounded their daily lives, and to this end a few be- lent men and women subscribed for the support of 3r so most destitute among them. 306 LABOURS OF LOYE. Funds increased, and in the true spirit of patient faith the projectors of the scheme increased their mode of operation in accordance with the means at their dis- posal. No plan was entered into for the erection of a costly building and modern scientific appliances. The need was too urgent to allow money to be expended in these things while those for whom it was contributed were perishing. An old-fashioned tenement, once a coach-builder’s workshop, and a good deal in want of repair, was to he let in Great Queen-street; and there, 4 after such necessary carpentering and lime-whiting as \ sufficed to put the place in decent order, a refuge was opened for homeless boys. No wretched little applicant was turned from its doors ; and while there was a six- pence to spare, the poor little wanderers were gathered into this hospitable fold, fed, clothed, taught, encour- aged, and — hardest task of all — made to believe that somebody in the world actually cared for them. There seems never to have been a time when an ur-^ gent case was altogether neglected ; and in 1867 above three hundred and sixty boys were receiving the bene- fits of the institution. Those who were too young to learn even the elements of a trade, and some who were suffer- ing from the diseases consequent on want and exposure, were nourished and put to easy lessons in the school occupying one of the queer old upper rooms ; the stronger and more intelligent were set to work at tailor- ing, shoemaking, carpentering, and fire-wood chopping, with intervals of school and play-hours, singing, an occasional treat, especially* at the^iL«Lstma THINK — READER ! 307 when other neglected children in the neighbourhood were invited to participate in the hot dinners, for which special subscriptions were invited. Now, however, there are above 500 children sup- ported by this glorious institution. More than 100 in Great Queen - street ; 100 young farmers at Bisley, ploughing, sowing, reaping, tending cattle, pigs, and poultry, gardening, and at the same time growing strong in body and well informed in mind ; 200 wea- ther-beaten tars on board the big ship ; and about 50 girls at each of the refuges — that in Broad-street, and the branch home at Ealing. Ah, it lies heavily on the hearts of the secretary and the committee that so little should be done for homeless and destitute girls. If any words that I could write would call prompt and earnest attention to this great need, I should greatly rejoice. It is so strange that subscriptions, and espe- cially the subscriptions sent by ladies, should be so largely devoted to boys, by the express direction of the donors. Do we ever try to realise what must be the probable fate of scores of homeless, neglected, and des- titute girls left to the contamination of the streets or the common lodging-house ? Can any of us, looking in the fair faces of the bright-eyed innocent little creatures who sit at our hearths, already so beautiful in the lovely bloom of first girlhood, think for one earnest serious minute of what they might be — must be, if they were snatched from us, even with the first advantage of their early lessons, and made the companions of evil men and women, or left, ownerless, to wander about the 308 LABOUES OF LOVE. foul byways of the Great City? Can we try, even feebly, to realise a part of what is the daily life of such de- serted, homeless little ones, as we may see in neigh- bourhoods not an hour’s walk from our own doors, and yet leave this part of a great work without a more effi- cient support than will maintain so few at Broad- street and Ealing, when situations are easily obtained for those who graduate at the latter place, and seek domestic service here or in the colonies ? Surely, to learn the fact should be enough. But it would be better still to go and see the girls them- selves, and there to wonder how those fresh, ruddy, blooming, gentle - looking faces once were pale with want — many of them hard and bold with the defiant look that comes of that wretched life of the denizen of the streets ; how those still sickly, drooping, and yet almost decrepit - looking forms may find new life and strength, and be transformed by the marvellous might of loving care, and the medicine of food and cleanliness and purer air. Do you desire to know what becomes of this great family of children gathered from the worst of London ? It only needs a visit to the institution to see the letters that come from Canada, South Africa, Australia, asking for boys who have learnt the elements of agricultural work or useful trades, for girls who know the duties of domestic servants. Of 1,808 boys and 816 girls who had been admitted to the refuges up to the end of 1868, 336 boys and 54 girls emigrated to New Zealand, Canada, the United States, Queensland, Nova Scotia, THE SCATTERED FAMILY. 309 and South Africa. Forty-six boys entered her Majesty’s navy, 5 went into the army, 80 into the merchant service, 326 were placed in various situations, 176 were restored to parents and friends, 18 removed to other institutions, 6 were apprenticed, 18 died, 1 went to college, and 400 were transferred to the Chichester. Of the girls who stayed in this country, 344 went to service, and have almost without exception done well ; 229 were restored to their friends, 16 were removed to other institutions, 1 was married, and 15 died. It surely needs only a statement of such results to show what a waste of the raw material of humanity must be going on, and what may be done to stay it. During the past year the average has increased in proportion to the increased numbers admitted, and espe- cially in the ranks of the emigrants, of one special hand of whom I shall say something presently. There is something remarkably suggestive in the singing on hoard the Chichester and in the refuge at Great Queen-street. I do not mean only in the hearty way in which sea songs, rural songs, choruses, concerted pieces, sentimental ballads like the ^ Farmer’s Boy,’ and others which will he found in the regular song- hooks, are rendered by those young voices, to which the gruff tones of the Chichester crew make a kind of bass groundwork. Every year, at Exeter Hall, they have a great musical demonstration, when the pub- lic is told what they are doing, and what progress has been made. To judge from the crowded audience on that occasion, it is one of the most popular concerts 310 LABOURS OF LOVE. of the season. But I now refer to the select harmonic efforts among the boys themselves. I hope I shall shock no proper sensibilities when I reveal that there is a nigger band on board that noble vessel — a regular affair, with lampblack or some convenient substitute, and even extemporised costumes ; and that some of the lads who have a talent, natural or acquired, for dramatic or character representation, are permitted, under proper restrictions, to contribute occasionally to the amusement of the rest, as an element in that ^ skylarking’ which is a time - honoured institution in every well - found and reasonably ordered ship. But if you would see the whole family at a glance — or so much of a glance as can penetrate through the mist of savoury meat — you should obtain an invita- tion to the Queen - street festival, which is held just after New -year’s -day in the range of schoolrooms at Great Queen-street — rooms that were once used as work- shops and full of upright wooden pillars, but with high roofs and large windows. Here is assembled a large company of little hungry guests from the ragged schools — guests not altogether unused to such dinners, for in the winter season 500 of such poor children in the neighbourhood have had a bounteous repast of hot meat and vegetables once a-week; but to-day is a special occa- sion. Going out for a moment at a door beside the space reserved for the chairman, the secretary, and the committee, you come upon a kind of square opening railed all round (like those that are to be seen in whole- sale warehouses), whence you can look into the lower THE FESTIVAL. 311 room ; but all around this space, lighted from the top by skylights, are the coppers and the ranges used for the preparation of ordinary dinners. In each copper a sound of bubbling is heard, and any experienced nose can distinguish that remarkable combined odour so well described by Mr. Dickens in the Christmas Carol indi- cative of plum-pudding. Some of the leading spirits of the refuge are already waiting to assist in the great ceremony of ‘ turning out’ these admirably compounded delicacies ; but still more anxious expectants are waiting for the arrival of the beef and potatoes, now at browning- point in a baker’s oven close by. Here, in a neat and orderly row, in the smaller room leading out of the main banqueting-hall, are the sixty lasses from Broad-street, smilingly conscious of that subtle odour; and before we have time to count them, in come the fifty from Ealing with their matron, all aglow with the march from the station and the run-up the once-familiar wooden stairs. A sound of fifes and drums, and — not soldiers, surely — not post- men — not even marines — but farmers in their holi- day costume, a kin'd of uniform like that of a volun- teer corps, the band distinguished by a broad ribbon sash. They are not only farmers, mind you, even when they have their working corduroy and fustian and smocks on, for some of them learn carpentering, shoemaking, and tailoring. They are being trained for colonial life, and know something beyond even the breeding of pigs and poultry, and the growing of fruit, vegetables, and such light crops as boys can manage. As to the regular in- 312 LABOUES OF LOVE. mates at this home — who may he said to he the hosts — we don’t easily distinguish them ; and besides, there is a sort of gruff humming, a sound of light swift footsteps below, a halt, the shrill pipe of a boatswain’s whistle, a hoarse word of command, and, whew ! with a whiff of sea- air we are boarded at pike’s length by this bare-necked, blue-shirted, hard-handed crew, who come up as though they were on the shrouds, divide to the tables assigned to them, and, with a sort of bound and a hitch at the waist, drop lightly oyer the forms and into their places, every boy feeling that his knife is safe to its piece of lanyard. The contrast between these fellows and some of the paler, slighter, more sickly of the other inmates is so remarkable, that it strikes the most casual observer at once ; but still more extraordinary is the contrast be- tween almost every one of them and his former self, as shown in the photograph which was taken of him as he stood in his rags and wretchedness when he first entered that door at which they have just come in. Where have most of these 400 lads come from ? Half of them from various casual wards and night shelters, whence they were sent, or themselves applied, for ad- mission to the refuge ; about a fifth on the application of people interested in redeeming them from the evil influence of the streets ; a tenth part on their own for- lorn appeal at the door itself, where they had crept in the hope of finding that what they had heard of this strange Labour of Love might he true ; some taken out of the streets, where they wandered desolate; and others sent by magistrates, who could not con- AT DINNER. 313 vict them for being destitute. None of them look destitute at this moment ; indeed, some of the little ragged creatures who are the guests appear to be in worse plight than they, and more anxious for the arri- val of the beef. Here it comes ! Six sturdy refugees, jacketless, and with their shirt-sleeves rolled up, are staggering upstairs with the great deep metal dishes, on which mounds of brown beef hiss, and unctuous potatoes sputter, gales more seasonable than those of Araby the blest ; six muscular Christians feel the edges of their knives, and set to work carving great slices into handier dishes, which are carried away forthwith, and, accompanied by relays of potatoes, smoke at the end of each long table, where piles of plates are already set. Suddenly, from the elevation of a Windsor chair on which he stands, the well-known and welcome face of the secretary emerges from the crush around the small space already noticed, and a note on a whistle hushes the glad clamour of that eager assembly. ^ Kise ! Let us sing grace.’ Ah, and with a will ! I can almost fancy the two policemen at the door softening their official faces at the sound — as I believe they do soften the offi- cial feeling in their hearts at that simultaneous thanks- giving. And the clatter that follows it ! Beef, more beef, more beef still, and yet more beef! ^ Leave a little room for the pudding !’ is the genial entreaty; and it really seems a needful reminder, for — ^ Make way there ! — Now then, my lads ! here, bear a hand !’ So says the bo’sn and his mate ; and parsons, teachers, visitors, amateur helpers, as well as those two able seamen and officers of 814 LABOURS OF LOVE. the good ship Chichester, do bear a hand, and bring in the unctuous supplement to the repast. Not one pudding, hut a dozen, perhaps a score ; and boys and girls who had but just now looked a little faint, and resorted to the water-mugs, come out quite fresh again, as though all previous efforts had been merely preparatory. As to the mariners, they go systematically to work, and take their prog with a quiet determination and a confidence in themselves that speaks volumes. They eat reflec- tively, and with a calm judicious appreciation that yet gets through a deal of work in a remarkably short time ; and in point of appetite beat their opponents — well, I meant to say ‘hollow,’ but that is scarcely the word on such an occasion. Enough that there comes an end even to eating at last; that of beef, potatoes, and pudding there is still a good store for to-morrow’s distribution among less fortu- nate little ones who are not here to-day ; and that when the girls have come in and taken their places in that centre avenue between the rows of tables, we shall hear what I have just tried to tell you, and a great deal more. There is a good-humoured request on the part of the secretary that, as there is to be some singing, the boys will not create confusion by looking at the girls when they ought to be minding their own notes ; and as this is just what the boys are really doing, there is as hearty a burst of laughter as I ever expect to hear even in so large a party. This is followed by some of the well- known choruses, in which they have joined many a time before ; and then there ' is a speech or two ; and then A HAPPY EXCHANGE. 315 more singing; and after that the secretary makes a state- ment of affairs. Now the farm at Bisley, with its house and cottages and ninety acres of land, needs help. Fancy the boys here in this close neighbourhood, the poor sickly fellows pining for a breath of sweet country air, going down in detachments to spend a week there when the effort was commenced. Some of them had to sleep in a barn ; but what of that? It was genial summer weather, and they drank in new health and almost new life during that holiday visit. But it is to the little boys, and those too weak to go to sea, and in danger of being found by former vicious companions if they remain in London, that this refuge is the great boon ; to boys especially who may go to a home in the colonies ; and for this purpose an Emigration Fund is earnestly asked for. It only re- quires the means to send the lads away, and there is work for them in Canada, in Australia, in Africa, in America. In July 1868, when thirteen lads were sent to Toronto, the government agent wrote : ‘ I could have found places for another hundred within the next ten days. The lads went principally to farmers, this being our busy season, the hay harvest having just commenced. You can never go wrong in sending any number of such boys, to arrive here in the early part of this month ; and the stronger they are the better. I have little doubt they will all make useful men, as they will see nothing but industry with the farmers who have employed them. I was only at a trifling expense with them, they found employment so soon. 316 LABOURS OF LOVE. ‘ If you could manage, in case you send out any more boys, to let them have a few shillings on their arrival here, it would insure them places at once, as they often find employers a short distance by rail from this city. The funds might be sent on to this office, and given them only in cases where necessary ; however, you can please yourself in this respect.’ Encouraging accounts continue to be received from former inmates who are settled in various parts of the world. Many are now married and have families, and may be said to be doing well. A former inmate, now settled in Africa, came home in the summer of 1868 to make arrangements for ex- tending his business by opening up communications with manufacturers in England. He left his partner in charge of the business while he came to England, and returned to his wife and family, taking with him two boys from the refuge as apprentices. This young man has been of invaluable service to the lads sent out to his settlement. He has behaved nobly towards them ; in fact, too much cannot be said con- cerning the deep interest, both temporal and spiritual, he has taken in those boys the committee have sent over to the same place where he is located. He is an earnest Christian man, and the committee believe he is influenced by the love of God in all he has done for the lads, be- cause he himself knew what it was to be a friendless homeless lad in this Great City before being received into the refuge. On this young man’s visit to England he gave an ABSENT FRIENDS. 317 account of a number of tlie lads lie received in the colony, and placed out in situations. Most of them were doing well ; some had become prosperous men ; and all who had married had obtained good wives — a state- ment on which the informant laid peculiar stress, as illustrating the advantages of matrimony and the good sense of those who entered that holy state. But while we are still in the flush of the banquet, let us hear something of another great dinner that was held on the 28th of November last year at the Astor House, New York — a dinner at which the guests were twenty boys from this very farm at Bisley ; the hosts, Colonel Loomis and other gentlemen connected with the National Land Company of America. It is in reference to the ^ remembrance of absent friends’ that Mr. Wil- liams calls attention to this reception banquet, and reads a letter from one of the young guests — and a very graphic letter too — full of kindly greeting, and containing the ingenuous assurance of the writer that he intended to work as a tailor till he could save enough money to begin farming, with the prospect of buying a cow and marrying a nice wife. In order to record what was the occasion of that dinner-party, however, I must ask for your interest in the printed account published at the time in New York. We will step into the next room while the boys are singing, and the prizes and medals are being given to the deserving scholars, and read this printed paper that has just been placed in my hand : ^ Last August an organisation was established by the Rev. Richard Wake, an English clergyman of much ex- 318 LABOURS OF LOVE. perieiice in emigration schemes, to facilitate the settle- ment of English agriculturists on the Pacific Kailway lands of the United States. Mr. Wake entered into correspondence with the National Land Company of this country, resulting in the purchase of 33,000 acres of land on the line of the Kansas and Pacific Railroad in Kansas. A village has been founded thereon. A colony has already been formed, and it now consists of about 100 families of thrifty and intelligent English farmers. The noble Earl of Shaftesbury has adopted this colony as a medium for establishing an agricultural college, and a farm for training the hoys which he may send over from his institutions in England. He has pur- chased two sections of 1,280 acres of the railway lands, within a district called Wakefield, Kansas. Last Mon- day morning the first detachment of twenty boys arrived in this city, per steamer Bellona, under the charge of an English farm superintendent. They brought good supplies of implements and materials for opening the school and farm in Kansas. ^‘While here, the hoys and their superintendent are the guests of the National Land Company, and yester- day afternoon they marched up to the Astor House to attend a reception which Colonel John S. Loomis, pre- sident of the company, gave them on behalf of his organisation. They were politely welcomed at the office under the Astor House. They remained there a short time talking with the officers of the company, after which they were ushered through the ladies’ entrance up to dine. The ladies flocked out of the parlours to have a THE AMERICAN DETACHMENT. 319 I glimpse of their English cousins. The banquet was served in the family dining-room of the house, so that no intruders would be likely to interrupt the privacy of the occasion. The boys behaved remarkably well, and not once did they commit any acts of impropriety. They are splendid specimens of healthy English lads, well- dressed and modest. They have been from two to three years in the London school, and have acquired disci- plined habits characteristic of the labour-schools in that country. Most of them are well advanced in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and their prompt and correct answers to questions indicate a thoroughness in in- struction that reflects credit upon their teachers. ^ Before taking seats at the table. Colonel Loomis pronounced a brief and feeling salutation to the young pioneers, and assured them that the welcome here and the reception that awaited them in Kansas could only be equalled by the philanthropic munificence of the noble Earl of Shaftesbury and the Christian gentlemen wLo were associated with him in founding a magnificent home for them in the land of Washington and Lincoln. At a given signal, they sang their grace song,” and then they sat down to the banquet. ^ The dinner was sumptuous, the meats, pastry, and dessert being fully equal, if not superior, to those usu- ally served at first-class hotels. ^ At the close of the entertainment, Mr. Crozier, who has been connected with American mission-schools, was invited to address the hoys. ^ The hoys were then invited to partake in general 320 LABOURS OF LOVE. conversation, and especially to ask such questions of their American friends present as thej^ might desire touching American life and society, &c. Colonel Loomis, at the request of one of the lads, explained our conven- tion system, and how nominations and elections are con- ducted. He made a brief speech, in which he said : My young friends, it is no ordinary feeling which animates myself and associates of the National Land and Pacific Kailway Companies in extending to the adopted children of the noble English earl, and his friends of the reform society of England, a welcome to the shores and home- steads of the United States. Our fathers descended, and our republican form of government, with all its priceless blessings to the children of all nations, came, from the Christian civilisation of the English ancestry. We have kept sacred the virtues and useful lessons which the great statesmen and the good men and women of England have given to history. They supplied us with a written law, which afforded good material to construct our political ship of state ; and the English Bible, which has been our ark of safety in all the perils which have beset our social life ; and also a measure of moral courage which has rendered the experiment of self-government a fact ; and now upon the land and sea, and in the hearts of the people everywhere, our old English Bible, our republican constitution, and our unconquerable star- spangled banner, reign supreme. My friends, God has given us a goodly land ; and if there is a place on earth where the children and the unfortunate ones of over- crowded districts can be happier than they can be in old THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG. 321 England, it is here . . . Government — your Government now — gives to every man who was born in this country, or who will become an American citizen, a homestead on these railway lines without price if he will go upon the land and improve it. And we expect to see every one of you with a home and farm of his own in Kansas in a few years. The noble earl has saved you from a life of hard toil without recompense in England ; and our Government an-d our people will help you to the age of manhood, and to a life of liberty and independence. You come not among strangers.. We are friends; and you will find good men and women in Kansas, who will give you a greeting and a helping hand hereafter, which will teach you that the promises of your old English Bible are worthy of your faith.” ^ After these addresses the boys sang several songs characteristic of their early London life.’ Now this is the genteel, and, as it were, the official reporter, way of putting it; but that graphic letter already referred to lets the pleasantly lively cat out of the cere- monial bag. The boys were treated like guests, as they were, the gentlemen who entertained them really talk- ing to them and joining them at table ; while as to the last paragraph, referring to what at Masonic meet- ings used to be called ^ proceeding to harmony,’ it seems to mean that hosts and guests sang for each other’s amusement; and — just a whisper — the guests probably were the most amusing of the party ; for not only were the old school part-songs and ditties intro- duced, but almost the first boy asked to ^ give a stave’ Y 322 LABOURS OF LOVE. had in that past early condition from which he had been so happily delivered been a ^ member of the profession’ — that is to say, he had actually picked up a precarious livelihood by singing the newest ballads at public-houses in London — and so, with a touch of his early talent, re- sponded to the call of the chairman at the great American dinner. This provision for destitute boys, which has, I be- lieve, reached a representative character in Great Queen- street, is not confined to the single institution of which I speak. There is the Boys’ Home in Eegent’s-park- road, an establishment devoted to the same useful work, and eminently deserving support in answer to the ap- peals of its treasurer. And, arising from another valu- able and well-known charity, to which I shall refer in another connection, there is the industrial school at the Newport-Market Eefuge, the success of which, as well as its complete supervision and careful manage- ment, should insure its rapid extension far beyond the present limits, to which it is confined for want of spe- cial aid to maintain and enlarge its operations. The refuge at Newport Market had long included des- titute and starving boys among those who are brought to its shelter from the streets and from the ^ dark arches,’ of which at that time we heard so much, before its sup- porters could make any provision for maintaining a num- ber of these poor little fellows in an industrial school. But the work was done at last ; and now in a portion of the building which has been taken in from the old struc- ture, or added to it for the purpose, the juvenile dormi- SAILORS BY CHOICE. 323 tory for these regular inmates forms part of the wide scheme of beneficence carried on within the walls of what was once the disused slaughter-house of the half- forgotten market at the hack of Leicester-square. At the beginning of last year there were forty-nine hoys in this school, and at the end of December the number had increased to fifty - six ; thirty - four boys having been admitted during the twelve months, and twenty-seven placed out in the world in various situa- tions, nine of that number being apprenticed to tailors, with a 5Z. premium for each case, and ten sent to sea on hoard merchant vessels, with a complete outfit provided for them. These lads, of course, chose to be sailors, and there are more who have the same am- bition ; but most of them are too young to enter at pnce on such a career, no more than three out of the fifty-six being thirteen years of age. The only trade taught in the school at present is tailoring ; and the master tailor who is their instructor has interested him- self deeply in obtaining good employers for the young apprentices, all of whom are reported to be doing well, and giving satisfaction to those with whom they have entered into an engagement to complete their education in the business. Other lads have obtained situations where they may look forward to an improved position ; one has been apprenticed to a pianoforte maker; and four have entered the army in the band of the 97th Eegiment of Foot. For the scholars at Newport Market are eminently musical, and awaken all the echoes in that queer rambling 324 LABOUKS OF LOVE. old building with their performances on all manner of wind instruments, under the direction of an able band- master, who keeps them up to the mark by leading on a brisk cornet-a-piston. You should hear them sing, too ; and, above all, you should hear them cheer — none of your half-and-half, lingering hurrahs, but a clear fire of precision, a sharp ear-splitting note in time and tune, and all together. I might almost go on to say that in some other respects they are eminently military, though their tastes seem to be of a naval character ; for their superintendent is himself a soldier. Sergeant Eamsden, late quartermaster-sergeant of the 16th Eegiment, ^ un- der whose intelligent and unfailing supervision,’ say the committee, ‘ the school has attained a very high state of efficiency and discipline. The boys have acquired habits of order and self-reliance, and are thoroughly happy.’ I see no reason to doubt it; and I may add, that this result is in a great measure due to the personal interest taken in them by some of the members of the committee itself, by its three honorary secretaries, Mr. W. Bayne Eanken (who is intimately connected with this and many other valuable institutions). Lord Eliot, Mr. Owen H. Morshead, and by the Prime Minister of England, who is also Prime Minister — that is to say. President — of the Eefuge at Newport Market and its dependencies. Perhaps the greatest benefactor to the institution during the past year has been an anonymous contri- butor, who sent the munificent sum of a thousand WASTE OF FOOD. 325 pounds to its bank account, under the initials ^ E. M. K.’ I should like to think it probable that such an example would be followed; nay, I do think it probable, since there may surely be many who will give in as liberal a spirit, according to their means ; and for any such who may read these lines I will mention that the bankers are Messrs. Cocks, Biddulphs, and Co., 43 Charing-cross ; Messrs. Glyn, Mills, Currie, and Co., 67 Lombard- street ; and Messrs. Drummonds, 49 Charing-cross. One of the aids of which this institution gladly avails itself is, I think, worthy of attention. Two West-end clubs, the Union and the Junior Carlton, furnish them regularly with those remnants of their kitchens which are generally known by the name of ^broken victuals;’ and the supply is found most useful, not only in help- ing out the rations given to the inmates of the refuge, but also in providing a little good and nourishing food to the most needy and deserving of the poor in that distressed neighbourhood. I know that that indefa- tigable Eoman - catholic sisterhood, the ^ Little Sisters of the Poor,’ collect such broken food as they can ob- tain in this way; but in walking about the streets of this Great City, and noting the number and extent of its clubs, dining-houses, and sumptuous hotels, it must have occurred to many of us that the actual waste of wholesome food would represent a very large amount of relief if it could be prevented, and the remainders of bread and meat, soups and vegetables, be turned to such account as a frugal and experienced purveyor for the hungry and destitute could make of them. 326 LABOUKS OF LOVE. I know of one large City dining-house where the pro- prietor endeavoured to keep such remnants separate in clean metal buckets, that they might be used for such a purpose by any institution which would send for them ; but no organisation existed for the purpose of collection at stated hours before the commencement of business, and since that time they have gone to the hog-trough along with less useful ^ leavings.’ If it is worth the while of the pig-keepers to carry them away as ^ wash,’ surely some system might be devised by which, in a light cart fitted with clean cans something like milk- cans, a large quantity of useful broken meats could be collected at early morning or late in the evening, for some of the charities that feed the starving poor. By these broken meats I do not mean the scraps left on plates, hut the remnants of joints and poultry, cold potatoes, carrots, &c., cut bread, and such of the day’s Svaste’ as is now conferred on the pigs, along with those unsavoury remnants which might he kept entirely apart. At a few of the old-fashioned restaurants, poor pensioners do, or did till lately, attend after business hours, to receive the odds and ends of joints not quite cut down to the bone, the residue of the bread-trays, the corner pieces of pies and puddings, and other com- fortable and satisfying snacks most useful in a poor family; but there are hundredweights of such food either wasted or misapplied in London for the want of claimants who can show to what good purpose it might be applied. To return to our no longer destitute hoys, and still EXEMPTION FROM SICKNESS. 327 to keep the subject of food in view, however, it is cheer- ing to know that the dietary scale adopted at Newport Market is wisely calculated to restore those poor en- feebled little frames. The breakfast consists of bread and coffee and bread and milk on alternate mornings, butter being added to the bread on Sundays ; while the dinners consist of meat and vegetables on three days, bread and soup on three days, and suet-pudding on Wednesdays in each week. For tea, they have bread- and-dripping with coffee four days, coffee and bread one day, tea and bread one day, and on Sundays tea and bread-and-butter. Further than this, however, special diet is allowed to boys in delicate health or recovering from illness, and indeed in any case recommended by Dr. Rogers, the medical officer, during his visits, which are made regularly twice a-week. Each boy is carefully examined on admission to the school, in order to discover that he has been vaccinated and is free from communicable or other disease; but even should he be suffering from such sickness as would preclude his becoming an inmate, there are opportuni- ties for sending him to a hospital or infirmary where he would receive attention. The remarkable exemption of these boys from sick- ness when the neighbourhood in which the refuge is situated is considered, in conjunction with the ante- cedents of the lads themselves, may, as Dr. Rogers says, be in a great measure accounted for by the habits of personal cleanliness, the sufficient and wholesome food, the thorough ventilation of the schoolroom and dormi- 328 LABOURS OF LOVE. tories, and the regulated exercise. The ordinary day is, in fact, divided so that each child is engaged in school for one half of his working time, and at industrial occu- pation for the other half. They generally rise at six o’clock, put the place in order, and after a thorough wash and joining in prayers, go to breakfast at eight. From a quarter to nine till twelve they are engaged at school or work, and in receiving religious instruction under the supervision of the Eev. J. C. Chambers, the vicar of the parish, or of his curate, the Eev. J. E. Vaux. The dinner-hour is from twelve to one o’clock, and from one to two they take out-door exercise, or on wet days practise drill and gymnastics. School or work again from a quarter-past two till a quarter to six. Tea from six to half-past, and amusing books or play till bed- time at eight o’clock. What a contrast to the dreadful life of the streets in that same neighbourhood, the by- ways that are still left of that evil locality once known as ' Seven Dials’ ! A Club Token. What, then, becomes of the boys who, having left the refuge, are employed during the day in situations as ^ errand’ and shop lads, or in work for which they do not earn more than sufficient wages to support them, while they can have nothing to spare to pay for decent lodging if they are friendless or orphans ? Alas, the question takes a still wider significance. What provision is made in London for the number of boys who go out every morning to work, and after their day’s labour are left CLUB FOR WORKING BOYS. 329 to tlieir own devices unless they can claim connection with a Ragged School or some institution which con- tinues to regard them with genuine interest after they have left its protection ? Come with me, and see what has at least been at- tempted in this locality and in union with the school that we have just left. We have not far to go. Standing here at the refuge itself, we can see to the end of the short street named Market-street, and there, on the right, is the house we seek — ‘St. Anclreiv's Home and Club for Working Boys.' It is not an attractive house — not a house with any distinct evidences of being in thorough repair even, not particularly distinguished from the tenements on each side of it except by the closed appearance caused by the use of shutters to the lower panes of the windows of the gpund-floor, so that casual idlers cannot peer into the rooms to which they belong. Even when we get inside there is nothing at first to challenge attention ; hut once turn into the rooms referred to, and its peculi- arities are more obvious. It is difficult to say why, for there is certainly no superfluous ornament, not an arti- cle of luxurious or even unnecessary furniture ; but the hare floor is clean ; the long deal tables and the forms that serve for seats on each side of them are well scrubbed ; there is a cosy fire in the pipe-stove; and at one end of the room — raised a step, and so forming a kind of platform — there are a few coloured prints, a com- mon bookcase full of books, a closet in which are chess and draught boards, and such other things as might be- 330 LABOURS OF LOVE. long to a boys’ class-room, in which they spent their in-door playtime. This long apartment, which is in fact ' two rooms knocked into one,’ is the dining-room and club-room, the play-room and class-room, of from twenty to thirty lads, who form a respectable and orderly community, living in the old house under the care of a resident superintendent, and a housekeeper who comes daily to her duties of cooking and providing the meals, and ordering the washing, mending, and even the mak- ing or transposition of such clothes as can be obtained for the inmates. The superintendent, who has devoted his time to this work, has a sitting-room on the first-floor, where there are ample evidences not only of his constant appli- cation to his duties, but of the kindly sj^mpathy he has brought to the discharge of a difficult office. If I had said sympathetic ties by which he expresses his inter- est, you might have accused me of undue levity; for look ! on this table covered with books and papers, and amidst the pleasant orderly confusion that belongs to all bachelors’ sitting-rooms, you will see two or three of those useful ornaments for the neck, conspicuous for their lively colours and ^ natty’ appearance no less than for the glossy newness that shows them to have been only just taken from the tissue-paper on which they lie. There is nothing in the whole place more favour- ably suggestive to me than the evident satisfaction with which these gay bits of attire are referred to and their appearance explained ; for they are, in fact, intended as rewards for three of the lads who have been so well-be- LIFE AT A CRITICAL PERIOD. 331 haved and orderly as to show a good example to the rest ; and as these little evidences of respectability are just what they have long desired to make up the tout-ensem- hle of their Sunday suits, they will be quite a pleasant lit- tle surprise to them on their return from work to-night. These boys earn on an average five shillings a-week each, some of them being apprentices, while others fill such situations as have been already mentioned; and some of them have formerly been inmates of the indus- trial school at the refuge. Some, again, come with recom- mendations from respectable referees, who know them to be well inclined and desirous of joining this com- fortable community. Think of the condition of a boy who, unaided, has but five or six shillings a - week with which to find all the necessaries of life, and it is easy to estimate what such an institution may do to help a working-lad in the most critical period of his whole life. Think of the common lodging-house, or the share of some foul room in a crowded dwelling, and compare it with a neat bed in the clean dormitories of this upper fioor, where all is orderly and sufficient for comfort, evto though it may be plain. Compare the miserable solitary meal, the scanty dinner of coarse and unwholesome food, the cheap and nasty snatches of provender barely enough even to stay hunger, and the well-prepared and satisfy- ing provision to which the inmates of this house come home. Think of the beginning and the ending of each day in the miserable dens in which such homeless or orphan boys too often seek their nightly shelter, and 332 LABOURS OF LOVE. then come into this ample room on the first story, with its low seats and its desk, whence the superinten- dent asks the lads to join in morning and evening prayer; its harmonium, at which he sits to lead them in the hymns they sing together ; and its mantelpiece, made altar-like by drapery and such ornament as gives the clean bare room a church-like aspect, and in a sense marks its sacred use. To every boy living there an opportunity is afforded of learning to read and write, as well as to enter on some more advanced studies ; and to this is added such religious instruction as already appears to have been attended with happy results. We have already seen that there is no narrow or bigoted exclusion of youth- ful pastimes. The books in the library (and they are glad to receive a few volumes from friends who have them to spare from disused library-shelves) are many of them amusing tales, and just such books — healthy fictions and well-told adventures— as boys like to read, and will have, if they can get a chance of procuring them ; while chess and draughts and other games (ay — just to whisper in your ear — even an occasional round game at cards, with the superintendent directing) make the evenings at home pass pleasantly. The day’s arrangements are simple and truly home- like. Up at about six o’clock, arranging beds and dor- mitories, washing and dressing, prayers with their morning hymn, followed by a good breakfast of coffee or cocoa and bread-and-butter ; then off to work. Keturn- ing at the dinner-hour, they find a good meal of meat HOMEWARD-BOUND. 333 and vegetables, and occasionally a supplementary pud- ding, punctually served in the club-room ; and at what- ever time they reach home from work (some of them being employed till a later hour than others), they can have a tea similar in quality and quantity to the break- fast, and ready from six o’clock to eight. Some of the earliest are trooping in as we stand here ; many of them sturdy lads enough, and all of them, as far as I can see, with sound and decent clothes and boots. These clothes and boots, however, are the fre- quent difficulty of the committee of this valuable insti- tution ; for, of course, the four or five shillings a-v/eek paid by each boy can never do more than barely cover the expense of his food ; so that subscriptions are ear- nestly asked for in order to pay the rent, the salaries of housekeeper and superintendent, the cost of coals and gas, aiid to buy these same boots. As to clothes, I know of few more welcome presents to the Boys’ Home and Club than a good bundle of cast-off garments not over-worn ; or the materials for making shirts, trou- sers, and jackets. And it is wonderful how ingenious the directors of these institutions Soho-way have be- come in the transformation of old clothes into compara- tively new ones. In the club-room at this moment a sempstress — a poor woman hired and paid by the day for doing this work — is now busy with all sorts of such happy contrivances ; and if a few amateur needlewomen would devote some of their spare time to making shirts, comforters, or other articles of dress for these poor little fellows — well, I think it likely their kind remem- 334 LABOUKS OF LOVE. brances would be appreciated, and that they would some- times not be forgotten when the harmonium is sound- ing, and the lads are singing their morning hymn. The treasurer of this institution, which needs enlarging, just as its example needs following in almost every dis- trict of the Great City, is Mr. Charles G. Barnett, 60 Lombard-street ; its president is Earl Beauchamp ; and its committee consists of several gentlemen of well-known social position, among whom one of the most active is Lord Eliot, whose useful connection with the charities of these districts of St. Andrew’s and St. Mary’s, Soho, is not confined to this particular effort. Greatly as it needs extension, so that it may be the exemplar of a number of similar establishments in all parts of London, thoroughly recognised as a means of public benevolence, it is satisfactory to know that it has proved eminently successful as far as the funds have enabled it to proceed. ^ Lads have been found anxious to be received, and to pay over their wages to the super- intendent, and at the same time ready to submit to the regulations necessary for insuring a well-ordered house- hold. In fact, they pay, so far as they are able, to be kept in order, and trained up as good Christians. The present number might be enlarged by increasing the accommodation, without adding to the present staff of superintendent and housekeeper ; but as at least half the expenses must be borne by subscriptions, funds are urgently needed both to maintain the home and to add to the number of beds.’ I may perhaps be pardoned for expressing a hope THE EMPLOYMENT SHOULD BE KNOWN. 335 that in any similar institution that may hereafter be founded, care will be taken by the committee to learn the particulars of the employment in which each boy in the home is engaged. In the case of this establishment, that knowledge is a part of the regulations ; and indeed situations have been found for most of the inmates; but in a more general institution the necessity for this kind of intervention will be equally stringent — not only, or even principally, to guard against deception on the part of the lads themselves, but in order to protect them from the encroachments of certain employers, who would take advantage of their condition, just as they do of all supplementary aid to poverty, in order to obtain their services at the lowest unremunerative rate of wages. There is a feature of this most admirable institu- tion which is remarkably suggestive of one of the greatest wants in the metropolis, and it has a very definite con- nection with efforts for the benefit of those boys and girls who are the elder representatives of ^ everybody’s children.’ Working-boys who are neither really homeless nor orphans, but who reside with their friends, are admitted to this club, where they participate in the evening’s amuse- ments and instruction. Now we have all heard a great deal of the admirable results of working-men’s clubs established in neighbourhoods where artisans and la- bourers forma considerable proportion of the inhabitants; why should not working-boys’ clubs be regarded as equally beneficial ? Places might be provided (a couple of large rooms in some old house would do to begin 336 LABOURS OF LOYE. with) to which hoys out at work during the day could resort at night, and, under easy and kind superintendence, find the means for recreation and social enjoyment as well as useful and interesting instruction. There is some such attempt at the Field-lane Eefuge, wFere, in two of the rooms in the building, a hoys’ recreation class is carried on, and some gymnastic ap- paratus is part of the furniture of the place. But hoys’ clubs are wanted in all quarters. They need not be specially associated with religious observance ; indeed it would, in my opinion, he well to give them no more necessary connection with an avowed religious object than would be secured by affording, to such lads as chose to avail themselves of it, the opportunity of ac- quiring religious knowledge by means of a lively and judiciously - conducted Bible -class, and by opening a Sunday-school in the rooms for the weekly attendance of members and their friends. I state this, not because I think anything can be more important than an early inculcation of religious truth, but because what is generally termed religious instruc- tion in such places is too often of a casual nature, and so is intrusted to persons who, however earnest they may be, are apt to insist too strongly on larding every topic with religious phraseology, and of discountenancing all re- creative occupations that will not afford them an oppor- tunity of introducing some form of religious expression, if not doctrinal and sectarian peculiarities. It is because I believe that religion is not only a part of life, but is life, that I can understand how all well-ordered and TRUE RELIGION BRIGHTENS LIFE. 337 thoroughly-enjoyed amusements will not fail to have a religious tendency without a constant effort for their distorted application. It will be seen, however, that the superintendence of such institutions requires to be conducted by those who may be called rare men : men who recognise the higher life, and can brighten ordinary occupations with reflections of the heavenly light — men who can play in earnest without making play no other than a dreary kind of work, and can so work that what they do will be real in its results, though its operations may scarcely be expressed in ordinary formulas. At all events, in these boys’ clubs young souls would be gathered, and, so far, be kept from the contamina- tion of the streets ; there would be healthy recreation, healthy instruction, and healthy literature, alike in- teresting and elevating. To keep the reading-room well supplied with the best periodicals for the young would cost but little. The subscriptions of the lads themselves would serve to pay for that in a large club ; for they would willingly pay a trifle, and it would be better that they should, even though it should be a halfpenny or a penny a-week. There are few even of these poor boys in London who do not spend that much either in the pernicious literature of which I have already spoken, in occasional visits to the ^ gaff,’ or in some effort after a very transitory amusement, which leaves them listless and unsatisfied. z 338 LABOURS OF LOVE. Lost Little Sisters. When any new industry is developed, do not the London hoys take advantage of it ? is not the raw ma- terial easily manufactured, if only there be the oppor- tunity of turning it to account ? The keen competition among the poor little fellows who sell newspapers is evidence of that fact — mere infants, who should scarcely he out of some national nursery, striving against those of larger growth who try to earn a penny or two out of a quire. There are some daily journals which seem to retain a special staff of hoys for a time ; but the principle of free trade ultimately prevails, and every new literary enterprise is shrewdly taken advantage of by lads who must either help to earn their own bread or go hungry. A little higher still, there are those veritable gamins of the London streets in whom Leech used to delight — the impudent rascals who force their way into every crowd, and take all the reserved seats on door-steps and railings at any out-door spectacle. These are not the poor, depressed, homeless, almost hopeless, children of whom we have first spoken, but the errand-boys, the ‘printers’ devils,’ doctors’ boys, and those employed by small tradespeople to carry out goods. These are the boys to whom some such insti- tutions as those I have just been considering should be undoubtedly beneficial. Their erratic disposition is not opposed to work, and they are always ready to look after a better place, if only one can be found for them ; so that, in the midst of the want and destitution of DANGERS TO GIRLS. 339 the large family of Nobody’s Children, material progress has opened a way for those who have anybody to care for them, narrow and precarious as that way may often be. If it be so hard for boys to find a place in the turbu- lent world, what is it for girls ? I dare not dwell on the possible, nay the probable, contingencies of a girl- child’s career when she is left to the streets, the markets, and the temptation sure to present itself as the means of avoiding actual destitution. This horrible prospect of vice, followed by an early death from want or disease, awaits not only the wretched child who is actually homeless and friendless in the sense of having no legal guardians, but her also who, neglected by those on whom she has a claim, which there is no law adequately to enforce, is either discarded or forced by cruelty to rid her ^ next friends’ of the responsibility of maintaining her. Should you doubt that there are many such cases, it is only necessary to collect the records of police- courts and of some of the institutions which make the rescue of young girls from a life of profligacy their peculiar care. And here let me say that the dangers to which girls of fourteen or fifteen years of age are exposed are not much diminished by their seeming to work in such employment as some of them contrive to obtain. Any attempt to carry out such a work as I have advocated by the institution of working-boys’ clubs would be in- complete if some similar provision were not made for girls also, under the superintendence (without a too 340 LABOURS OF LOVE. rigid subjection) of genial and ^ motherly’ women with genuine sympathy for their young friends. Such an institution, of a higher class, has been most successfully established for young women engaged as dressmakers, milliners, and saleswomen at the West -end of Lon- don, who principally support it for themselves, and so make it a gentlewomen’s club ; and there is a home for governesses, where, for a weekly payment of about thir- teen shillings, those ladies can reside who are waiting for situations. But there is urgent need for evening resorts, as well as homes, for girls, whose wages, earned at ill-paid trades or humble employments, leave them comparatively destitute. Unhappily there are numbers of wretched children who, hired by women contracting to execute the work given out by slopsellers and cheap clothiers, live in a condition but slightly removed from actual starvation, with the constant temptation to a life of vice, in order to eke out their insufficient earn- ings by occasional prostitution. It is now more years Rgo than I like to remember that my daily avocations took me to a public office in the City, near Billingsgate Market. Among the nu- merous cadgers who haunted that locality was a man of some education and ability, with that invincible ob- jection to work and cherished propensity to drink which distinguishes the pauper who yet contrives to keep out of the workhouse. In appeals for help to those who had some recollection of his having once occupied a respectable situation, he of course pleaded not on his own behalf, but for the sake of his family of four chil- A WRETCHED FATHER. 341 dren, motherless girls, who would be without food un- less he could take home a loaf of bread to appease their hunger. He had brought his wife and them to misery and want ; and when the poor woman died, he had, as I learnt afterwards, exhibited some sort of maudlin grief, soon assuaged by gin. He had never ill-treated her or the children by violence, — was even kind and af- fectionate in manner, — and the poor little creatures had learnt to love him, cruel as he had been in his heartless self-indulgence. He represented a common form of that neglect which fills our streets with aban- doned girls, who drift into evil courses in the hopeless- ness of finding any one to help them to a better life. For some time he had been ^ known to the police,’ and watched as one who, sooner or later, would make ^ a case’ for their activity and intelligence ; and one evening he was taken into custody, clad in an over- coat which he had lifted from a hook behind my office- door. The officer — who, unfortunately for him, was well acquainted with me and with the coat, from hav- ing seen it often enough on my back— took him at once to the station, and awaited my return ; and having learnt that I had neither sold, lent, nor given away the garment, which I at once missed from its usual nail, saw that the case for which he had been so long waiting was complete. The man was taken before the magistrate, and as coat-stealing was just then a pre- vailing offence in the neighbourhood, was committed for trial at the Old Bailey. Meanwhile the policeman — a clever detective and a kind-hearted fellow enough 342 LABOURS OF LOVE. — went to the address given him by the prisoner, and there saw what brought a tear even into his experienced eye. In a miserable bare room, with only a scrap of fire and no food, but where the boards, the hearth, and the two or three sticks of furniture were scrubbed clean, were four girls — the youngest a mere infant only able to walk and talk imperfectly ; the eldest a child of between thirteen and fourteen, who had just come in from work to learn the dreadful intelligence that her father was awaiting his trial. The clothes that covered them all were mere rags ; but they were not filthy. The eldest girl herself was so scantily clad that she was ashamed to be seen ; hut though she broke into a wild fit of weeping, she uttered no word of reproach against the parent who had brought this fresh misery upon them. After the first outburst of grief she subsided into a quiet silent acknowledgment of the kindness of the policeman, who went out to a chandler’s shop in the court and bought some food for the hungry little ones — food which she distributed without taking more than a morsel for her own share. I need not here detail all the weary waiting at the Old Bailey till the prisoner was sentenced to two months’ hard labour. He had made known to me through the officer that he was respectably connected ; and after vi- siting the wretched room where the four children lived, and providing as I best could for their immediate neces- sities by opening a limited account for the elder girl at the chandler’s shop close by, I waited on his relations with very little result. One of them went to see the THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE. 343 victims of their father’s neglect, and, after reading them a moral lesson, gave them a few shillings, but holding out some hope for the future; another utterly refused to have anything to do with a brother who had disgraced him, or with the children, in whom he took no interest whatever. It ended in my obtaining admission for the two youngest girls to a very humble refuge in Spital- fields, a small place in service having been obtained for the next eldest by their less obdurate relative, who also sent a trifling contribution (as much as he could afford, perhaps) to the institution. The great difficulty was what to do for the eldest child, who, with evident deter- mination and self-denial, had kept that wretched home together. She was of a proud, almost doggedly reserved, disposition (for there is pride of a kind that is exhibited most in poverty, and becomes repulsive at first sight, while it is really only the pardonable fight against pau- perism). The father was a Scotchman, and that may explain the temper of this black-haired, firm -eyed girl, who seemed to resent the expressions of interest that were conveyed to her by a kindly female visitor sent to see what could be done to help her. She was able to earn by slop-work only as much as would find her in bread - and - dripping and a little weak tea, and some few pence a-week for rent ; and at last was persuaded to accept a temporary home for household training at the refuge to which her sisters had gone, that she might be placed in a situation. That refuge was but a rough and primitive institution ; still there was sufficient food, a clean and not uncomfortable bed, and some useful 344 LABOURS OF LOVE. teaching. In a fortnight or three weeks I went to inquire after her, and learned that she had disappeared — had evi- dently disliked the necessary restraints, and was certainly uneasy in consequence of some counter attraction in the place that she had left. I don’t know whether I should he wiser now — at all events, at that time I knew little of organisations for the relief of such cases, and there were none in connection with this particular refuge of which I could avail myself; so I set out to see what had become of her, by going once more to the place where she had previously lived. It was in a wretched court in what was then known as the Dog-row — a thoroughfare leading from Mile-end to Bethnal-green, surrounded by squalid houses, the abodes of the poorest part of the community; but I was tolerably familiar with the poverty districts of the Great City, and intended to go on till I heard something of the fugitive. I had very little difficulty. At the chandler’s shop I learned that she was hack at work in the same place from which she had been absent so short a time, and, on mak- ing farther inquiries, was directed to go to ^ a black door a little farther down,’ where, if I made known my errand, I should perhaps not be admitted ; but, if I went up- stairs and went into the room, I should see her with a lot of others at work for the woman that hired ’em all by the day. A few farther questions, intended to elicit the probable reasons of her return, were met by dubious shakings of the head, and a hint that there was some ^ young chap that she was about with;’ but this was altogether so indefinite that I proceeded at once to the MY PILGRIMAGE. 345 door in question, and having gained admission, merely mentioned the name of the slop-contractor, and walked as quietly as possible up the steep stair to the first dark landing, where, making a guess at the position of the room, I rapped smartly on the wainscot. I heard a pause in the clamour of voices, a kind of scurry, followed by a shrill ^ Who’s that ? — you can come in and hav- ing found the handle of the lock, turned it, and stood in the doorway looking at a scene that I am not likely to forget. In the hot fetid atmosphere of a room heated by a dull coke-fire, and fitted only with forms or old chairs and deal tables, about a dozen young girls, some of them mere children, were sitting at work by the- dim flare of coarse tallow-candles. Some of them ap- peared to be half naked, so scantily were they clad ; and their unhealthy looks contrasted dreadfully with the kind of evil vivacity in their voices, the cunning leer in their eyes, as though they had not yet lost the expression called up by some vile jest or obscene allusion. This general impression was flashed on me in a single glance, as it might on any chance visitor ; but it was confirmed by the taunting response when I asked if the girl I had come to see was there ; by the contemptu- ous laugh of the tall hard-faced virago, herself compara- tively well clad, and in good feather, who, after hearing my errand, bade some one go outside if she wanted to, for there was some one come to talk to her. Need I say that the laugh and the shrill mocking repetition of the girl’^ name was repeated by the miserable children, who saw that a disregard of ^ talking to’ was the best way to curry 346 LABOURS OF LOVE. favour with their task-mistress ? There was no such look in the dark set face, no such tone in the steady voice, of the girl herself, when she rose from behind one of the ta- bles and came to the door. I had not seen her in the hot haze and confusion of the room ; and her footsteps made no sound on the floor. Her feet were bare (as were those of others in that room), and she looked pale and weary. It is not necessary for me to repeat the arguments I used to induce her to leave the place ; I did my best to plead with her on her own behalf, even to pointing out the almost inevitable consequences of such a life, amidst such companionship as she would he led to form ; hut it was of no avail. She could not go back — that was the answer. Had she been unkindly treated, or unduly re- strained ? If so, I would make it my business to have that altered. No ; the matron was kind ; but she couldn’t go back; she must stay there. Would she return, if only for a week or two, that some suitable employment might be found for her, even needlework, if she liked that best, but under better and happier associations than those of that wretched room ? No. She broke into a short paroxysm of tears, and thanked me for being so kind; but she would not return; she must ^ stay where she was. She had no bad reason for it; she wasn’t likely to go wrong, and didn’t wish for bad companions ; but — it was no use ; she couldn't. And with this^ — ex- cept with a last assurance that, should she think better of her determination, as I hoped and prayed she would, she would be received at once, and the matron would let me know, and I would send a lady to speak to her MY FAILURE. 347 there, and find her work if possible — she walked slowly into that room again, where she disappeared in the hot foul vapour that seemed to fill it, and the door closed. I have never seen her since ; but I heard that when the father came out of prison he removed one, if not both, of the remaining children from the refuge, and once again became ^ known to the police,’ having added to his week- day profession of cadger that of an occasional Sunday preacher in the open space at Billingsgate. This account of what I believe is the condition of scores of young girls in the Great City, and my own en- tire failure in remedying the evil in one single instance, will illustrate the difficulties that beset those who are engaged in such work, and the deep necessity for well- considered organisation in any society which sets it- self to accomplish the redemption of our lost little sisters. There are, however, institutions which have set themselves to this work; and though their operations have not sufficed to meet the terrible need too evident to those who make daily and nightly journeys in the me- tropolis, they are accomplishing a great object in as far as they can obtain public support. Of one of these — the National Society for the Protection of Young Girls — I can only say, that it would be well for this Great City if it were enabled to vindicate its title by receiving such hearty assistance as would make it as truly a na- tional work in extent, as it is in spirit and intention. Then, instead of the 1,775Z. which represents the income 348 LABOUKS OF LOVE. of the last official year, a sum worthy of the cause would be contributed ; instead of one-third of the whole amount being necessarily expended in the working expenses by which the charity is kept before the public, its funds collected, and its objects made known, the amount for these items would only be slightly increased, whije the actual sum expended in providing for the inmates would be so largely augmented as to render a new home ne- cessary, and a migration of the present family from their retreat at WOODHOUSE, WaNSTEAD. There are but about sixty poor little stray birds in this quiet dovecot ; but while we sigh that there are so few, let us at least remember what they represent, and from what they have probably been rescued. Sixty young souls taken from the pollutions of the streets — from the living death that would follow their abandonment by those who should be bound to tend and teach them — from the deep degradation, casual pauperism, or habitual crime that lies before the rougher and less comely — from the deeper degradation still into which those who are personally attractive are, while they are yet mere children, enticed or driven by the foul harpies who lie in wait to furnish the victims of the libertine and the seducer ; and to fill our streets with reckless, hopeless wretches, who are the more to be pitied, the more despairing, because they have lost their faith in human virtue by the loss of all respect for themselves, and so see no hope of redemption. CHILD-PROSTITUTES. 349 Blit I cannot here consider this ^ lower deep’ of the dark chasms that yawn for the girls in that great family of ^everybody’s children.’ I dare not dwell at all, in these pages, on the horrible conditions in which child- prostitutes — girls many of them not fourteen years old — are kept in bondage by the keepers of houses of ill- fame, or become associates with young thieves and cadgers, with whom they live periodically, adding the occasional wages of their shame to the precarious ^ tak- ings’ of their paramours. The very mention of such facts may shock some readers ; but we all need shock- ing, or at all events as many of us as are ignorant of such facts, or those of us who know of their existence and yet regard them as a necessary part of ^ London life.’ What would be the effect on the nerves even of the most hardened debauchee, if he could suddenly be in- troduced into a vast assembly of all the children in London — girls under seventeen — who are already old; stricken, and blasted untimely by the vile influences into which they have been dragged or enticed — sup- posing that, by some miracle of vision, he could see the baby-self of each abandoned creature there — the first pure innocent child’s self, sitting a substantial appa- rition by her side, and pointing with a face of agony and reproach to the thing that it had become ? Is the fact the less true because we have no sudden vision ? Such an assembly might be gathered, and it would re- quire a great hall to contain it ; — might be gathered in the gloom and darkness of the Great City’s byways, the foul haunts of vice and misery — in the bright glare 350 LABOUKS OF LOVE. and glow of its stately highways, the resorts of rank and fashion and ^ undoubted respectability.’ What a meeting it would he ! How terrible the hideous leer of those young eyes, the hectic on those fading faces, with so little childish roundness of contour left beneath the coarse paint ! How terrible the shrill laugh, the obscene jest, the hysterical attempt at defi- ance in spite of an awful underlying fear — fear of the accursed traffickers who claim them — fear of those of whom they are at the mercy every day — fear and dis- trust of kind words and earnest assurances almost as much as of oaths and brutal threats ! How terrible the misery that lies before them at sixteen years old, when they have already lost even childlike memories — the memories of that time when they could scarcely dis~ tinguish good from evil — so long, and yet so short a time ago, that they have lost it out of their lives ! It matters not, I say, whether we can see such an assembly or not ; whether here or hereafter there shall be given to the libertine to estimate in one swift awful glance the work that he set himself to do, and helped to accomplish in this world. The facts remain ; the individuals who might form such a ‘ shocking’ spectacle are now in this Great City, in our very midst ; they once tvere babes, little children as innocent as those that prattle on our own knees. There is no need to go far to learn whence they come, or what is the way of their ruin . They are many of them — But let me give examples from actual cases where some of these unfortunate creatures have been timely A TERRIBLE ROLL-CALL. 351 snatched from the very brink of ruin by the society which I would have you visit. ^ , aged fourteen ; has no mother ; father a ship- wright; just able to read and Avrite a little. A very interesting child, but exposed to great evil in the town where she lives. The poor child was driven from home by the cruelty of her father, and took refuge in the house of a kind-hearted woman. She was afraid to go out until the evening, lest her father should meet her and ill-use her, being thus forced into temptation. Her eldest sister, aged sixteen, lives with abandoned women, and it is the father’s wish that both girls should follow that sad course. The case is very urgent and painful. The poor child is at present uninjured, but must be lost unless she is admitted. ‘ — , aged fourteen, is an illegitimate child of — . The person who married the mother has often terribly ill-treated the girl. Both parents, who might other- wise be respectable, are addicted to excessive drinking. An elder sister is abandoned, and there are several younger children. The child is very ignorant, but teachable. The only hope, humanly speaking, for this girl to be saved from utter ruin is, to remove her from the evil influences to which she has been exposed from infancy. ‘ — , aged thirteen, has neither father nor mother. Her mother died when she was very young. The father married a second wife ; he had a comfortable home, and maintained his family in respectability. This child was sent to Sunday and other schools. Upon his death the 352 LABOUKS OF LOVE. home was broken up, and the stepmother took to drink- ing. The child was totally neglected, and left to wander about the street. She soon fell into bad company, and must inevitably have fallen, but for the kindness of a lady, who brought the case under the notice of the so- ciety. She is a most interesting intelligent child. little girl, fourteen years of age, came to the office some time since, poorly clad, and evidently half starved. She asked for admission into the Home, and closed her appeal by saying, “I have not a friend in all the world.” Father, mother, brothers, and sisters were all dead. She had wandered about the streets until nature was well-nigh exhausted, roughly and rudely treated by some, kindly by others. It is not easy to say what would have become of her if she had not been directed to this haven of refuge. She was received, and afterwards became a teacher in a British school, and ultimately in the school where she was educated. A more loving beautiful Christian character could not be found. She died recently, but with a happy certainty of eternal life.’ Now these are examples of the cases on whose be- half this Labour of Love appeals. From its establish- ment in 1835 to April last year, it had received 1,020 young girls, of whom 900 had been sent to service, and 120 returned to their friends. The average number of inmates during the year ending April 1869 had been 60 ; 24 having been newly admitted, 10 sent to service, and 4 restored to their friends. It is a pleasant house this home at Wanstead, a THE PROSPECT. 353 modest double -fronted building, such as auctioneers’ advertisements generally represent as ‘ a commodious residence, standing in its own grounds, and adapted to the requirements of a family.’ That is to say, it is the usual single - storied dwelling, of which there are so many in the locality of Wanstead, Leyton, and Wood- ford ; with a portico oVer its front-door, on each side of which are good-sized rooms and a broad staircase im- mediately opposite, in the square hall, with branches right and left to the bedrooms ; the kitchens are built out on one side, and the back of the house is extended by a deep ‘ bay,’ the drawing-room windows in which look on the lawn. In front is a kind of carriage-drive approached through gates, and a productive kitchen^ garden ; a good yard, where the outbuildings are con- verted into laundry and lavatories; and some open ground where it is proposed to build a chapel, which, besides being available for the religious instruction of the in- mates and for lectures and meetings, will also be in- tended for the benefit of the inhabitants in the imme- diate neighbourhood. The cost of this building will not exceed 450Z. ; and Lady Morrison, to whose generous efforts in endowing the chapel of the Merchant Sea- men’s Orphan Asylum I have already referred, has be- queathed 200?. for a future chapel-fund, and has kindly promised that should the money be wanted- and the com- mittee decide to borrow it, she will pay the interest that may be charged. To the healthy situation, the out-door exercise, the plain but ample and regular supply of food, and the general liveliness, combined with a certain AA 354 LABOURS OF LOVE. quietude that characterises the place, may be attributed the remarkable absence of any serious cases of sickness from this institution, except those which were consti- tutional. Only two exceptions occurred during the last official year, and they vv^ere both consumptive cases, and both in the first instance hereditary. One girl was sent to the Consumption Hospital, where she died ; and the other, if she has not yet passed away, cannot possibly recover. No other deaths have occurred in the institu- tion for thirty-four years. The schoolrooms, workrooms, matron’s sitting-room, committee-room, and the dormi- tories, with their neat beds and window^s opening to the clear pure country air, are all as clean as scrubbing and ^ elbow-grease’ can make them. The cooking, some of the washing, and the household w^ork, are performed by the girls themselves ; all of whom, with only occa- sional exceptions, are trained for domestic servants. They are, however, directed by the sub-matron, who re- presents the household instruction, just as the governess represents the education of the establishment. The household consists of the matron (who has charge of the entire family), sub-matron, and governess (who has monitors to assist her); and out-of-doors, a lodge-keeper and a gardener, both of whom are handy fellows, the latter of course contributing towards the general well-being of the establishment by the produce growm under his care. The girls admitted to the institution are mostly taken to the office of the society, 28 New Broad-street, by some lady connected with the charity, to wdiom they have been referred, or by whom they have been rescued COUNTRY CASES. 355 from destitution, after wliicli, the particulars being veri- fied, the committee admit the applicant if there is a vacancy, and if the funds are sufficient to enable them to receive new inmates. In country cases, the papers of the society are furnished upon application ; and if on perusal the case should be thought to be a suitable one, the correspondent may apply for the necessary printed form. When this is returned within a few days pro- perly filled up, together with a medical certificate, it is submitted at the next meeting of the committee, and the result of the application is made known to the per- son sending it. Should the case be successful, the girl must be sent in charge of some trustworthy person to the office of the society by eleven o’clock in the morn- ing. Afterwards she will be examined by one of the honorary medical officers of the society, the two physi- cians being Dr. E. L. Birkett and Dr. T. M. Daldy ; ;and the surgeons, Mr. N. Henry Stevens and G-. T. W. Mugliston, M.D. The person bringing the applicant must then take her to the home with the proper order for admission, the travelling expenses to Wanstead to be paid, and the child conveyed thither without ex- pense to the institution. In speaking of the healthy appearance and general neatness and modesty, as well as cheerfulness, of the girls at Woodhouse, I cannot do better than quote with- out comment the daily routine there ; premising, of course, that it is varied by some holidays, treats, and special occasions, as well as by out-door games and walks in the forest neighbourhood. 356 LABOUKS OF LOVE. ^ At 6.30 the girls rise, and, after airing, make beds. At 7.0 they lead in order to lavatory to wash ; then to their work — some to scrub bedrooms, some to laundry, some kitchen, parlour, scullery, &c. At 8.30 breakfast. At 8.50 prayers. At 9.15 prepare for school. At 9.30 school commences ; laundry-, kitchen-, scullery-maids remain out. At 12.30 school closes; recreation. At 1.30 dinner. At 2.0 prepare for school. At 2.30 school commences. At 4.30 school closes; recreation. At 6.0 supper. At 6.30 dining-room scrubbed. At 6.50 even- ing class. At 7.30 prayers. At 8.0 retire to bed ; some remain to scrub schoolroom. ‘ This arrangement is for the winter months, and is subject to a little alteration in summer. The various duties of the girls are changed every month. ^ The following is the general dietary for each day. The meat is sometimes changed. Now and then a fish dinner is j)rovided. There is no cooking on the Sunday. ^ For breakfast and supper : bread, butter, and cocoa ; occasionally tea is given instead of cocoa. For dinner : Sunday, cold beef and bread ; Monday, boiled rice, with sugar ; Tuesday, stewed meat and vegetables ; Wed- nesday, pudding, fruit, and other sorts ; Thursday, soup in winter ; bread-and-cheese in summer ; Friday, boiled legs of mutton, with vegetables ; Saturday, broth, with vegetables. ^ There are no restrictions as to quantity, each meal being under the superintendence and control of the sub- matron. Each girl is supplied with as much food as she desires and the sub-matron thinks is needful for her. A CAUTION. 357 ^ Everything that would savour of extravagance is prohibited. They may remain two, three, or four years ; but before they are sent out they must give satis- factory evidence that they are qualified for the situa- tion upon which they are about to enter. The committee suggest that mistresses may greatly aid them in their work, by not expecting too much of the girls, and by watching over them and instructing them in their va- rious duties. The order and discipline of a public in- stitution are so different from the duties devolving upon a servant in a private family, and the change upon the transfer of a girl from one to the other is so great, that the utmost care on the part of the mistress is most important.’ With the last paragraph of this statement I so cor- dially concur, that I regard it as in itself an evidence of the considerate management of the institution, the object of which is, in its own words, ^ to save young girls (not thieves) between the ages of eleven and fifteen, whether orphans or otherwise, who are from any circumstance in danger of becoming abandoned ; to educate, train, feed, clothe, and prepare them for future usefulness as domestic servants ; to protect them during the most critical period of life ; to land them safe into womanhood ; to procure situations for them ; to provide them with an outfit, and generally to watch over them ; to advise, counsel, and reward them ; and in every possible w^ay to become their guardians.’ If the considerations that I have already advanced, and the fact that applications made are now rejected for 358 LABOURS OF LOVE. Avant of funds, be not sufficient to bespeak a regard for its claims, I know of none stronger. All that I can suggest is, that you should induce others to visit Wood- house itself. It is only a short and agreeable journey to the western side of Yfanstead-flats, between the top of Cann Hall-lane and Wigram-lane. Both of these lanes run from the Leytonstone-road, the former not far from Maryland-point, the latter from Harrow-green. Wood- house can be easily reached from Stratford by Leyton- stone-road ; from Forest-gate by the western side of the Flats, keeping the road to the left hand ; and from Leyton by the Union to Leytonstone-road and Harrow-green ; and the asylum is open for the inspection of ladies every day between ten and four, except Sundays. Subscrip- tions are received by Mr. J. B. Talbot, the secretary, at 28 New Broad-street; and subscribers may recom- mend yearly one case for every guinea, and donors one case for every five guineas. This plan will secure a thorough investigation, and the selection of proper objects. Free cases can only be admitted in very extreme circumstances. So that much remains to be done in this and similar institutions before the deep reproach, that cries in the appeal of these lost little sisters can be effectually removed. Let us then take to heart the truth that the neglected destitute little ones of this Great City are Everybody’s Children, and therefore inalienably our own for good or for evil, and we may learn to realise the awful, and yet the glorious, responsibility that awaits us. AN AWFUL TEXT. 359 We cannot plead the excuse of ignorance, at all events. Let us refuse to take the lesson, and hrutishly harden ourselves against instruction as we may, these little ones are always amongst us, to instruct and to warn us, if we would but acknowledge their teaching. That was an awful text which was given hy Avay of reply to a good man, who asked one of those deserted boys, of whom I have spoken at such length, whether he knew anything about the Bible. ^ What is it asked he in return ; ^ anything to eat ?’ There was a world of suggestiveness in the answer, whether it denoted ignorance or was only a cunning re- partee. It expressed the urgent need of both questioners ; need of the bread that perishes, and the right acceptance of the bread of life. As an unconscious reproach upon religious profession it stands almost unequalled. But the living text, the perpetual warning, is among us. We cannot go abroad in our streets and fail to see it, whether we apply it or not. We cannot even evade it by saying that these deserted ones should be the children of the State. What is the State but an abstrac- tion which means ourselves, in as far as we form a portion of the nation ? We surely cannot mean the government, for the government is only the mode in which we execute the recognised principles of the laws under which we live ; and all that the government at present does for Everybody’s Children is to pretend to ignore their exist- ence, until the miserable results of our negligence are obvious in crime, and the culprits become amenable to the law. 360 LABOURS OF LOVE. Looking back at the vast material organisation and the splendid examples of civilisation which existed in the heathen world centuries ago — side by side with the deepest debasement of the common people, and a blight- ing cruelty and neglect of all human claims, which would have resulted in utter chaos but for the assertion of the common salvation and the inalienable equality of human nature which are the doctrines of Christianity — we may well feel a kind of terror at the resemblance to be detected between the condition of these ancient cities and that of London in respect of the numbers of those who are growing up year after year untaught and un- cared for. It seems ever to be the case, that when a nation begins to regard material progress or the adaptation of the means for making itself comfortable as the true life, and so to miss that which is needed to make ^ the whole of man,’ a heavy penalty has to be paid for it, unless the reaction sets in before the blow falls. It would be, perhaps, too much to say that we have neglected religion for railways, and have even in our very charities for- gotten that neither we nor our fellows can live by bread alone ; but it seems evident that in the effort to cheapen and extend and push to its utmost limit each means of physical convenience, we have not reflected that the veiy machinery of comfort and so-called progress may be- come a hideous tyranny, that will enthral us to our de- struction unless we discriminate between the means and the end, the function and the spirit. It is not enough that we should pay the two pence LET US REALISE THE FACTS. 3G1 to tlie innkeeper on behalf of him who has fallen among thieves; we must pour out the wine and oil of life for him if we would heal his wounds. If this be so for those who have grown up amid the strange and diverse influences of our modern civilisation, what is needed for the little ones who are perishing for lack of knowledge while no man seems to regard them ? The slaves who sat and sunned themselves on Alex- andrian quays, the canaille who starved and died of disease, and rotted in the worst quarters of the old pagan cities, or were bribed, from the fierce recollection of their wrongs, with gladiatorial fights and distribu- tions of bread, — were not always suggestive of the ter- rible end ; but we know what happened at last. Such an allusion will be smiled at by some readers, perhaps, as a mere hyperbolical flourish. Let it be so ; but let us take these facts to heart : that we have been from year to year generally increasing the number of paupers, so that now, if the whole adult metropolitan population were divided into groups of eight persons each, every such group has to maintain one other per- son. That the money actually contributed by way of poor-rates and to various charities — but too often con- tributed in such a manner, and with so little personal and direct interest in the result, as to be of compara- tively little value — is sufficient effectually to alleviate every case of distress, disease, and want. That the distribution and application of a large proportion of this amount to real necessities are so defective as to leave a vast number of destitute persons, beside a multitude of 362 LABOUES OF LOVE. homeless and almost friendless children, uncared for. That there are a hundred thousand such children now in London destitute of all proper guardianship. That the statistics of crime show not only that the criminal class is not sensibly diminishing in its numbers, but that our penal arrangements have seemed to tend to- wards making it more and more a class, the members of which are many of them relegated to gaol with little or no hope of their reformation, until they become more dangerous to society, and are sometimes the terror even of our principal streets. If we stay for the settlement of mutual accusations, for the results of discussions of statesmen versus clergy, politicians versus philosophers, and political economists versus philanthropists, all wrangling about systems, and trying to settle a scheme which shall appear perfect at first sight, the army of little martyrs will have grown up into — what ? CHAPTEK III. OUS NEIGHBOUR. Paupenlom — Stones for Bread — What is a Pauper ? — The Labour Test — Involuntary Paupers — The Ca- sual as' he teas — Newport Market — Sheer Destitu- tion — Playhouse-yard — Shelter —Edgues' Fair — Thieves, Tramps, and Beggars — The Casual as he is — Field-lane Refuge — What the Poor-laiv says — What the Parish does — Carter's Kitchen — From Workhouse to Gaol — The only Way — London Inte- riors — The Model Lodger — Commercial Charity — Clerical Claims — Sensational Examples — Pious Bribery — Misrepresentation — Sunday down East — Who does the Work ? It is seldom that a v/eek passes without some disclosure of the reasons for that antipathy to the receipt of pa- rochial relief which is characteristic of even the destitute poor in the metropolis. It is seldom that so long evert as a week passes without ample proofs that of the two public institutions the prison is by far the more popular with that section of the community which has passed the boundary line dividing the honest labourer from the occasional thief; and it is a matter for serious consider- 364 LABOURS OF LOVE. ation Ilow this conclusion may affect the judgment, and ultimately the conduct, of those who find honesty such very hard work, and the result of failure in striving to keep body and soul together so very much more penal than that of the hold abandonment of the attempt. In one respect, the arrangements at the union work- house are like those of the criminal prison — there is no classification. To become a pauper is to forfeit all the advantages of respectable antecedents, to he reduced to the dead level of utter poverty, and to submit to all the degrading conditions which are imposed on those who, having struggled and failed, fought and been beaten, acknowledge their defeat, and take the punish- ment that our social, as w^ell as our national, laws im- pose upon the admission of poverty and weakness. In this respect, the present union workhouse system is less merciful in its operation than the old Poor-law. In the ‘ poor-houses’ of fifty years ago, with all the abuses of the system, it was no uncommon thing to find some kind of distinction between the inmates who, ^ having seen better days,’ had come to pauperdom through in- evitable misfortune, and the ordinary resident, to whom pauperism was to some extent a natural condition, and wdio certainly felt no shame at being the recipient of the relief afforded in the house. This classification, of course, depended very greatly on the guardians, and still more upon the master or matron ; but it was not unfrequent ; and elderly ladies of reduced circumstances sometimes had the remainder of their long lives made bearable, and were suffered to wear their own dresses, EECENT DISCLOSURES. 3G5 and to live a little apart from the rest in a select society of their own. It happens now and then, perhaps, under the present system, that just so much of distinction is made in a few cases ; hut the system itself discourages it. Guardians, in their natural antipathy to the pauper as a perverse means of raising the rates, mostly refuse to acknowledge any hut one dead level, which, if it is likely to deter anybody from ^ coming on the parish,’ is just the thing required. Masters and matrons, regard- ing nearly all the inmates as their natural enemies, or being at the best, anxious to secure the good opinion of the hoard which places them in their situation, are mostly willing to administer the ^ rules and regulations’ accord- ing to the very letter of the Poor-law^ and seldom ac- cording to its spirit. It is not very long since the public was startled with the disclosures made on the subject of workhouse in- firmaries, and an association was formed for the purpose of compelling some improvement in those most loath- some and. terrible departments of the buildings to which we consign our poor. It was hard work, for board met board with remonstrance, and retorted with defiance. The Poor-law was a dead letter — let us rather say it was the letter that killed ; and ^ guardians’ — Heaven save the mark ! — cared nothing for the spirit that might have made alive. To diminish, or at all events to keep down, the rates is the whole duty of a parochial officer, according to the received opinion ; and as the control of parish business has mainly fallen into the hands of those whose interest it is to consider the ratepayers. 366 LABCMjRS OF LOVE. who are also customers, there seems little chance of a remedy against the cruelties practised in some of the metropolitan unions, until gentlemen of independent position will recognise their duties, and fulfil local offices with the consciousness that the best work a man can do is that which lies nearest to his hand. The horrors of certain infirmaries caused a shudder to pass through society; but the shudder Very little, comparatively, has come of it. The association fought and fought well, and effected a large amount of amelioration in a few flagrant instances; but the officials followed their usual course — kept quiet, grinned at each other over their hoard -room tables, relegated remon- strances to the waste-paper basket, sent impudent re- plies to the recommendations of the Poor-law authori- ties, and trusted to the remembrance of their atrocities dying out, and the whole affair ^blowing over.’ That the improvements effected are not so ex- tensive as might have been supposed, and that paro- ohial magnates still defy the law with impunity, has received ample illustration in the inquests held on the bodies of infant and adult paupers, dona to death by neglect, overcrowding in a foul ward, and supervening gangrene, m the workhouse of St. Pancras, the patron saint of helpless children. It is not in the infirmaries alone, however, that the present condition of pauperdom is illustrated — neither in the infirmaries, nor the stone-yards, nor the casual wards. An intelligent visit to four out of five union workhouses would reveal to the moderately careful observer the ne- THE HOPELESS LOOKS. 367 cessity for some independent inspection, associated with an authority which could at once demand compliance with the claims of humanity and decency, and of some judicial recognition of the fact that parochial relief is not for ever to be accorded as though its recipients were the basest and most degraded of human beings ; while the unhappy creatures yAio, having paid rates for years, fall into distress and become destitute, are liable to be worse off than the ruffianly desperado who claims his full dole of union fare, and swears at and bullies a whole ward, the inmates of which have no remedy, and can claim no distinction which may serve to preserve their last remnants of self-respect. Go into the yard on a bright day, and note the wist- ful hopeless looks of the old men who sit in the sun on that deal form against the wall. Go into the infirm ward and note the long line of beds, where, in the close and fetid atmosphere, the workhouse flies settle on faces upon which the lineaments of death are settling also ; and unless some kind hand be there to fan away these foul precursors of the last indignities of the parish, the patient lies tormented and helpless in the dread paralysis of age and mortal sickness. Walk into the place devoted to children, and mark the woe -begone faces, the sullen looks, the evidence of much threaten- ing, and of brute remedies for brute instincts ; see the twisted limbs, the scrofulous skins, the deformities of all that should be beautiful in childhood, and also the round ruddy beauty that even workhouse discipline can- not wholly destroy. Note the little corpse laid out 368 LABOURS OF LOVE. carelessly in a cliair ; the little rough parish coffin, so soon to lie with those other coffins in the dead-house at the end of the yard. Listen to the murmured talk, which resolves itself into remarks about food ; and then remember that here, as in a prison, extra rations, and an increase in meat and the privilege of beer, are the great topics of conversation. Well they may he, for that dietary scale hanging on the wall — strict enough in its provisions, even if they were administered according to the intentions of the Poor- law Board — is at the mercy of guardians and master and matron, and may he reduced so much below prison fare, that life in a workhouse comes to he but a con- tinuance of that struggle against hunger which pre- ceded it in the world outside those grim brick walls. A dream of food — hut a dream seldom realised — must be the daily amusement of some of the more robust paupers ; while those for whom better provision should be made sicken at the faint and tasteless skilley, or shrink from the rations that are served them in more repulsive style than that of the prison plate and pan- nikin. Let those Avho wonder at the long bitter en- durance of the destitute wretches who cling to their one miserable room, with its fireless grate, and refuse to ‘ break up their home’ and be separated into various wards of the big Bastille, visit the nearest workhouse Avith open eyes and discriminating ears, and they aauU learn how it is that even such dire poverty is preferred to pauperdom. We have all learned — and most of us have bitterly EXAMPLES. 369 felt — how inadequate is the provision for the relief of want under the chaotic and contradictory rules by which the poor-laws are administered ; how hopeless it seems to obtain any redress while guardians are permitted either to misinterpret or to defy the orders of the Board, which professes to control their operations, but which is powerless either to enforce its ^recommenda- tions,’ or to bring its opponents to account. Surely I need not set down examples. They occur almost daily in newspaper reports and the records of police-courts. Only yesterday (dating from the pre- sent writing), one of the relieving-officers of the City of London Union, St. Mary -axe, was summoned before Alderman Lusk, M.P., at the Guildhall, for assaulting a pauper receiving outdoor relief at that branch of the union. I will quote the report as an example of what is not only a possible, but, alas, too frequent an example of the kind of temper in which ^ relief ’ is administered in the name of the ^ guardians of the poor.’ ^ The complainant said that she had a husband and four children, and lived at 18 Holliday-yard, Ludgate- hill. She had received parish relief to the extent of 2s. per week and four loaves. On Friday last she went to the defendant about ten o’clock in the morning, and saw him at the office in St. Mary-axe. She asked him if he could give her a little more outdoor relief, as what she received was insufficient; and he replied that he could not. She then said that she would rather go into the house at once ; and he said he would give her the order, but she must go into the workhouse in two hours. BB 370 LABOURS OF LOVE. She told him that that was impossible ; and then he told her to go away and bring her children when she was ready, and he would give her the order. She told him her children had not had any breakfast that morn- ing, and she wanted some, food to give them. The defendant closed the window, and she waited about twenty-five minutes, when he opened it again, and asked her what she wanted. She asked him to give her the order, and he said he would give her a good showing- up, for he knew her case well. She went into White- chapel sometimes with a baby, and sometimes without, and he asked her which she found the most convenient. She asked him what authority he had for saying that she walked Whitechapel, and told him she would see into it. He then came out of his office and caught hold of her by the two hands, and she said, ‘^Do not strike me.” He struck her on the shoulder, pushed her against the partition, and violently pushed his knee against the left side of her stomach. She told him she was near her confinement, and asked him not to hurt her ; but he hurt her very much. A policeman was then sent for, and she went away. She had been under the treatment of Mr. May, a surgeon, for the bruise on her stomach ; and he was now called, and said that the bruise was more serious as the woman was near her confinement. For the defence, the assault was denied. Alderman Lusk said he had listened very carefully to the case, and, after making due allowance for the provocation on the one side and the other, he could not come to any other conclusion than that the defendant had used more STARVATION ! 371 violence than was necessary. He did at last that which he should have done at first — sent for a constable. He should remember that when starving people came for relief they might be irritable and annoying ; but an offi- cer should be above such feelings, and should not give w^ay to his temper. He fined him 40s. and costs, or in default fourteen days’ imprisonment. The fine and costs were paid.’ This is not the first time within a very short period that a relieving-officer at this union has been accused, and, if not sentenced at the police-court, at least con- victed before public opinion, of brutality in dealing with the poor who seek the scanty aid of which the ^ board’ are the almoners. But what do we learn by turning to another part of the newspaper, where there is a para- graph under that fearful heading, ^ Starvation in the Metropolis’ ? The capitals are of course my own, and I would print them on the workhouse wall if I could. ^ Yesterday Mr. Humphreys held five inquests upon the bodies of persons who expired from destitution. One was held at the vestry-hall. Cable-street, St. George’s- in-the-East, on the body of John White, a coalwhipper, AGED SEVENTY-TWO. Mary White, of 39 Devonshire- street, deposed that the deceased was her husband. On Tuesday last he, witness, their grown-up daughter aged 22, and their son aged 12, became destitute, and her husband applied for relief at the workhouse. He was sent into the labour-yard, where he earned for the whole day’s work twopence and 3 lbs. of bread, and he con- tinued that work, receiving the same pay, until Friday. 372 LABOURS OF LOVE. On Saturday he said, ‘^Mary, I am done for;” and lie shortly after died. Witness believed that her husband died from destitution. The relieving - officer put the labour-book in in evidence ; and the coroner, after exa- mining it, said, “I do not like the look of this book. There are in it over 100 names, and the only name that has the age opposite it is that of the deceased.” James Verdent, a pauper, stated that shortly before the deceased expired he said to him, I was exposed to the cold in the open air while I was at work in the stone-yard.” Dr. Whitmore, medical officer of health for Holborn, stated that the body of the deceased was very emaciated. He died from peritonitis, caused by an ulcer in the stomach. A man in^ the emaciated condition that the deceased was ought not to have been placed to pick oakum in any open yard. The jury, after a very long consultation, returned a verdict of Natural death ; and we request the coroner to write to the board of guar- dians, requesting them to cover over places where men are put to labour during severe weather.” ’ It will perhaps be denied that all the cases reported are genuine, or that the circumstances are not capable of some more favourable explanation. Such a declara- tion would scarcely affect the main issue. There cannot be a conspiracy on the part of the whole temporarily destitute, as well as on that of the pauper community, to promote false accusations ; so that every day brings its addition to the revelations of Poor-law mismanage- ment, parochial cruelty, and official imbecility. If there were no other evidence, the proceedings at such a board NEPENTHE ! 373 as that of St. Pancras would be sufficient warrant to regard some of the proceedings of ^ local self-govern- menP as outrages of public decency. But the confusion in which the whole operation of the poor-laws seems to be involved makes the admin- istration of relief a puzzle ; and not only benevolent persons desirous of helping the poor, but guardians amenable to sentiments of pity, and even magistrates and unpaid justices at county sessions, are at a loss to know what to do to discover some method by which they may proceed. It is not very long ago (and this shall be my last direct illustration) that, at the Dews- bury Sessions, an old man, whose wretched and de pressed appearance was obviously to be attributed to distress and the want of sufficient food, was placed in the dock under the Vagrancy Act, and charged, that he, having no visible means of subsistence, had that morn- ing been found in an enclosed place for an unlawful purpose. This is the legal phraseology, which may mean — and frequently does mean — that the prisoner, being utterly destitute, sick, and starving, and unable to obtain work, or even to do work if he could get any one to give him any, has, in defiance of our humane and Christian laws, crawled into some place where he may obtain a few hours’ shelter, lose the sense of his memory in sleep, or quietly die, that he may no longer provoke boards of guardians, county magistrates, and professed philanthropists with the spectacle of a help- less and despairing human being. 874 LABOURS OF LOVE. The miserable old creature in question was asked by his masters what he had to say for himself; and had very little indeed to say. What he did say was, that he was too old and too weak to work; a state- ment, the latter part of which was confirmed by the police-officer who took him in custody, and had to let him lean against the walls now and then as they went along to the station-house. For five-and-twenty years this poor old feeble starv- ing man had lived in Lepton till his daughters got married, and were so burdened with the necessity for supporting their own children, that they could do no- thing for him when he had no longer any hope of keep- ing a home over his head. He had then applied to be taken into the Golcar Workhouse. The last provision for the destitute, designed by the laws of the country for the relief and succour of the poor, was granted to this broken-down old pauper until it pleased the board of guardians (of which one of the justices appears to have been the chairman) to turn him out, on the ground that he was able to work and get a living for himself. He was too weak to work, if anybody would have found him work to do, at threescore -and -four years old ; and so he wandered hopelessly away and subsisted as he best could, keeping life and soul together on such chance scraps of food as he could beg on the way, and resting at night wherever he could find an unnoticed corner in which to hide his poor old head. It was after a lucky discovery of this kind that he DIPRISONED AS CHAEITY. 375 was taken into custody; lie had crawled into a glass- works at Thornhill Lees, and there, on a board not far from the warmth of a furnace where bottles were made, slept the sleep of the persecuted until the constable in the course of his early round came upon him, and learnt, not only that he had nowhere to go, but that he was nearly dying of hunger — two conditions which the laws of this country cannot be supposed to tolerate. Now, I venture no opinion on the decision of the court on this case ; I only record the facts according to the report which, I may remark in passing, makes no mention of any strictures passed by the learned bench upon the conduct of the Golcar Workhouse officials. The justices consulted together, whispered, nodded, agreed, and said that they should commit the accused — the miserable pauper who had offended against the law by being old and destitute — and send him to prison for three weeks, because they thought it would be the truest charity, ^ 0, don’t send me to prison!’ said the poor old man, evidently confused, and thinking, in his innocence, that the House of Correction at Wakefield was a place either more degrading or more penal in its character than Gol- car Workhouse. ^ Don’t send me to prison!’ ‘Stand down !’ said the constable shortly; and who can wonder at his shortness of temper with such a ridiculous old pauper, who hadn’t learnt in all his sixty -four years’ experience that what the learned justices said was true, and that the best place to which to send the starving and exhausted vagrant, who had been refused the aid 376 LABOUES OF LOYE. supposed by a legal fiction to be provided for liim, was the county gaol ? I know not what may be the interior arrangements of the Wakefield House of Correction ; I ardently hope that it is conducted on the principle which seeks not revenge on, but a reformation of, the prisoner wdienever such a result seems reasonable. I ardently trust that the old man who was left to starve and die until the law humanely stepped in and saved him under the Vagrancy Act, by committing him to a cri- minal prison — regained some little strength in the gaol infirmary, and recovered to bless the Dewsbury justices ; but can we forbear wondering what power is vested in the Poor-law Board, and whether local bodies are not only above public opinion, but are absolutely irresponsible to the law itself? These, then, are the references which we meet with every day ; and they are but indicative of a dozen forms of that cruelty with which the relief of poverty is asso- ciated. Of course, whenever these matters are brought forward, the officials fall back on allusions to the ruf- fianism of the casual, and the impossibility of regarding ^ these sort of people’ as possessing the ordinary feelings of humanity ; but it is not the casual pauper who fares worst, it is the suddenly stricken, the destitute, the poor who hide their poverty to the last, all of whom are subject to the degradation that is constantly made to accompany the claim that the law professes to give them ; a degradation so deep, that even the prison brand is little more repulsive. Not a week ago a poor woman carrying an infant THE MOTHER S LOVE. B77 was brought before a London police-magistrate. She was destitute, but had refused to remain in the work- house where she sought admittance, because they in- sisted, as a condition of her reception, that she should be separated from her baby of eleven months old. His honour was able to do no more than to express an opinion that the child was too young to be entirely separated from its mother, and to urge the woman to return ; he had no power over the parish officials and their arbitrary rules. Well, yes, he had one alternative. On the poor mother steadily refusing to return and re- linquish the child, he informed her that he should be compelled to commit her to prison. ‘ I would rather go to prison than give up my baby,’ was the reply. And to prison she went, where it is very likely that both she and the child are better off than they would have been in the workhouse. ^ And that’s what she meant to do all along — to stick to the child and so get off work ; and that’s where it is, if they knew they’d get sent to prison, half of ’em would do the same.’ This is the sort of sneering com- ment that a parochial official would probably make on the case. Let the sneer stand. Two things at least are obvious : that, in many instances, the gaol is at a premium as against the hateful oppression and neglect of the union ; and that any woman who had read the reports of inquests on the bodies of children, the in- mates of the infant-wards of workhouses, would have a right to refuse to deliver up her own little one to the paternity of the parish. 378 LABOURS OF LOVE. But let US turn to the consideration of pauperdom, apart from its accompanying brutalities. What is the actual condition of the metropolis, with regard to the number of those destitute poor who receive some degree, hut too frequently an altogether insufficient amount, of out-door relief, compared with that of the chronic pauper, who returns again and again to the union whenever it suits his idle convenience, and has from these recurrent visits come to be called ‘the casual’ ? On the 1st, of January this year there were 127,538 ^ out - door paupers’ receiving relief in the metropolis ; or, deducting 6,240 lunatics and 286 vagrants, 121,012 poor, sick, or destitute persons receiving assistance in the shape of small allowances of food, with or without money ; such allowances varying from a loaf or two of bread to bread and meat with a little tea and sugar, or bread with a small sum of money — a shilling or two shillings a-week. It must be remembered, however, that the larger amount of assistance is given only where there are several in family; so that the returns — includ- ing the children of widows, and of women without support from their husbands — only represent a very small amount of relief per head. From these returns, however, we gather the reas- suring intelligence that the pressure of idle pauperism on out-door relief must be so small as to be scarcely perceptible. So far, then, this is in favour of an out-door system altogether; retaining the workhouses only for such inmates as are both helpless and destitute; mostly RIGHT SOCIAL PLACES. 379 indeed for the aged, the infirm, and for persons tem- porarily prostrated with sickness, and therefore infirmary patients. For orphan pauper children of the parish it has been already discovered that the separate schools are far more advantageous in every respect than the inclusion of young hoys and girls in the barrack-like buildings to which the adult chronic paupers are consigned. These considerations inevitably lead us to hope for a time when education in these as well as in other schools for poor children will have done its own work ; when in the trunk of the Great City there will have been a new graft sprung, so that ignorance and crime having been cut off at the cankered bud, pauperism will not long remain ; for pauperism, in one of the senses in which we now use it, will then be a crime, and will meet with reformatory punishment. The aged, the sick, and the temporarily destitute will be permanently or tem- porarily aided ; the merely lazy, the chronic slow- blooded pauper, will have the heaviest punishment that can be inflicted on him — that is to say, he will be made to work ; wdiile the incidental pauper, from misfortune, will not be known by that name ; he will be regarded as a worker who has fallen out of gear, and will be restored to his right place by having such work as he can do found for him, that he may not perish of want before he can get back again into his place in the social machine. But to return to uninviting yet suggestive figures : Of these 121,012 destitute and sick persons relieved on the 1st of January, there were 8,394 men, 24,917 380 LABOURS OF LOVE. women, whose plea for aid was that of old age or per- manent disability to labour for their own entire support, and on these 4,199 children were dependent ; so that 37,510 persons, or about 30 per cent of the whole, came under this class. Of widows there were 9,968, with 23,928 children dependent on them, making 33,896, or 28 per cent of the whole. Of wives deserted by their husbands, 1,003, with 2,617 children, amounting together to 3,620, or 3 per cent. Of men relieved on account of their own sickness there were 4,010 ; and of those who applied for and received aid on account of the sickness of a member of their family or a funeral, 1,267 ; while the number of those who were in want because they could not obtain work was 4,599. It will be seen how great was the necessity in these cases, by the fact that there were dependent on these three classes, 8,464 wives and 22,861 children, or 31,325 persons; making a total of 41,201 persons relieved, or above 33 per cent of the full number. How small the relief was in some cases, however, may easily be estimated by any one who will take the trouble to examine the lists printed for the parochial authorities; and in some cases it amounted to little more than the advice and medicine of the parish doctor. The remaining number of applicants relieved con- sisted of 462 unmarried women, on whom were de- pendent 886 children ; 310 wives of prisoners, with 867 children ; 108 wives of soldiers and sailors, with WHAT IS A PAUPER ? 381 271 children; 911 orphan children; 970 single women — a remarkably small proportion, showing the energy and endurance of women, as do the figures representing the women who have the charge of children, to whom a very little help — even half-a-crown a-week — is often enough to keep them striving on ; whereas, to withhold such aid is at once to force them into the union, where they are separated from those for whose sake they willingly work, and where the whole family is reduced at once to absolute pauperism, a burden on the rates. The present mode of out-door relief is too often the minimum of a minimum; and a judicious liberality would, by rendering more effectual help, quickly redeem the temporarily sorrowing and afflicted from the ranks of pauperism altogether. For what is a pauper ? There is no practical answer to this inquiry ; since, while the Poor-law declares that utter destitution is the / only acknowledged claim to relief, it becomes necessary to define what is understood by the words. Is a human being to be regarded as utterly destitute only when death from starvation is imminent, or is the point reached when the last penny is expended ? The latter conclusion would, in the majority of cases, be almost synonymous with the former; as anybody may know who is acquainted with the long period of comparative starvation undergone by the decent poor before they will submit to the conditions often imposed on them in order to make them declared paupers. If we abandon this hard and almost inhuman interpretation, we have 382 LABOURS OF LOVE. yet to fix on tlie degree of destitution wliicli stall be recognised as a claim to out-door relief; and also on the minimum amount of assistance wliicli shall be effectual, by its insufficiency, in driving the temporarily distressed to absolute, instead of comparative, pauper- ism ; or, by its adequate and judicious application, in lifting them out of their immediate difficulties and enabling them to regain a position of self-support. It surely needs no elaborate argument to show that what is now called ^ the labour test’ is totally in« applicable to this class of poor distressed persons. The stone-yard and oakum-shed may be useful institutions when they are designed as wholesome discipline to the indolent vagrant or the sturdy beggar ; they may even have some appreciable effect, as a kind of penal reminder to the ‘ tramp’ — so long as we do not mean by ^ tramp ’ a workman or labourer who can show that he is on a journey to seek employment, with a reasonable hope of obtaining it ; but what can be the use of inflicting on an unfortunate and comparatively destitute mechanic the torture of unaccustomed labour, at which he cannot, by the utmost exertion, earn even the bare bread that he needs for his starving wife and little ones ? Of course, as a partial reply to this, another ques- tion will be asked : would you, then, make the Govern- ment, through the Poor-law Board, manufacturers and employers of labour, to the detriment of the regular labour-market ? This question asks too much at once, inasmuch as it presupposes its second clause. OTHER QUESTIONS. 383 Why should the Government not he an employer of labour, in this as well as in other departments ? And why should the honest but unfortunate, or even im- provident, and therefore destitute, poor, be worse off than the convicted criminal, in this as well as in other re- spects ? The work done in prisons is intended not only to produce something in support of the felons under- going punishment, but to restore them, if possible, to that position in the commonwealth which they have for- feited, or which they were never able to achieve. Surely, if a thief is a human being out of social and moral relation with his fellows, a destitute and starving father of a destitute and starving family is scarcely less so ; and the main question must ultimately be, — not how are we to continue to support the life of such a man and such a family at the smallest possible continued expense, but what are the best, because the readiest, means to restore them to their place in the social economy ? It w^ould probably be found that the na- tional loss, even from the competition of what is called a Government employment of labour, with ordinary mar- kets, would be far less than from the heavy burden of taxation that is now sustained for the" purpose of an altogether ineffectual relief of the poor. But the labour need not be of such a character, nor offer such ad- vantages, as to be an inducement for even destitute persons to seek it for any longer period than will suffice to tide over their present difficulties; nor need it in- clude many industries. It might be adapted to the principle, acknowledged by us all in our best moments, 384 LABOURS OF LOVE. that no man should he punished for his misfortunes ; and that in recognising the rule of Christian faith and practice, we are hound to extend to our neighbour such aid as may he needed to make him a worker in the com- munity of which he forms a part. If, when the condi- tions are reasonably adapted to the end, he should re- fuse them, and claim to live on the labour of others, his refusal w^ould become a social crime, the remedy for which would be not merely restorative, hut penal work, yielding him only a bare subsistence. I do not underrate the difficulties that would beset the entire subject on any attempt to reduce such a plan to practice ; but the theoretical obstacles are augmented by our obstinately regarding ‘ the Government’ or ^ the State’ as an abstraction, instead of the machinery by which the nation, the whole social community, carries on its operations. As representative government ad- vances, ^ the State’ will come more and more to mean the nation ; and ^ the Government’ the national will, as represented by a deliberative assembly intrusted to express in action the moral as well as the legal obliga- tions of the people in relation to each other. Now how have the oppressive and degrading condi- tions imposed on the poor who sought relief operated to increase the general amount of pauperism ? In a word, how have paupers been made ? The answer may be discovered by referring to the condition of that ^ East-end’ of the Great City of which we have heard so much. For years the public had been shocked, as they may be yet again, by recurrent reports EVIL DAYS. 385 of the treatment of the destitute poor by relieving- officers, and by the accounts of defiant guardians, to whom Poor-law Board recommendations were but sub- jects of coarse merriment. For years the dens and byways of those foul neighbourhoods had been breed- ing pestilence, to add to the famine-fever that was almost chronic in the district. Then there came a period of epidemic, a newspaper inquiry, special articles written by visiting leader-writers, and an official in- terference which just served to stir the surface, but left some of the deep stagnant pools of mismanage- ment to settle down again. However, public feeling was aroused; it was evi- dent that there was a large amount of want, and that it was fruitless to hope in the Government department that had been established to relieve it. The poor were starving in the very streets, as well as in the foul and rotting tenements, or the bare and filthy rooms where they had crawled to die. Following this was the want of employment in that part of the East - end where fairly-paid labour had previously been more abundant. The decline in the ship-building trade, and the influence of the strikes in sending what trade there was to the Clyde and other dockyards, brought Poplar, Shadwell, and all that neighbourhood to want. For a time the Poor-law machinery broke down utterly, and such had become its reputation everywhere that very few people believed in its power of reorganisation. On every hand charitable aid was solicited and obtained ; subscriptions flowed in ; a dozen different and disconnected agencies cc 386 LABOUBS OF LOVE. began to distribute indiscriminate alms ; there was at once an immigration of actual pauperism to participate in these benefits, ‘while the worst class of the poorer population became demoralised. Even where an influ- ential committee for relieving the ^East-end Distress’ was formed — and it was hoped that it would be able to absorb and include in its own very complete organisa- tion other less regular efforts — it was discovered that the mischief of this indiscriminating endeavour to undo the evils originally wrought by inadequate and oppressive Poor-law regulations, was too widely spread to make any such temporary organisation for poor relief effectual. In other East-end parishes the result was little less deplorable. As is usual, the least worthy of the poor — the chronic paupers and idle cadgers who were ready to push to the front, and to run the gauntlet of half-a-dozen separate and independent ^charities,’ for the sake of obtaining something from each — made a profitable trade of waiting on the almoners of the public money ; and even now the artful applicant, who has ac- quired the conventional whine and the humble tone, and has also learnt where he may apply to benevolent persons at the West-end on behalf of the poverty-stricken East, will be very likely to ^ make two or three shillings pretty easy;’ while cadgers who have filled their wallets with contributions of broken victuals, or food given to be taken home, may sometimes be seen by the initiated visitor to Wentworth- street and some other places ^down Whitechapel way,’ selling to the really poor the meals which they have obtained in the name of charity. It is THE CASUAL. 387 •when the reaction comes that the flood of pauperism breaks over all official boundaries, and the parochial system once more finds itself unable to cope with the demands of the poverty that it has created ; so that under the present irresponsible system, the forma- tion of a pauper population goes on as surely as, by the ebb and flow of the sea, the chalk-cliffs are washed away on one coast, while on the other the long stretch of sand and shingle is left, a landmark of the tides of past years. The shameful spectacle of groups, and in many in- stances of crowds, of houseless, starving, and half-naked creatures huddled about the doors of workhouse wards, to which they had been refused admission in direct de- fiance of legislation specially declaring that there should be accommodation for the casual pauper who applied for food and shelter, led to the establishment of night-refuges. ‘ The casual,’ in our present acceptation of the term, was scarcely distinguished then from the ordinary desti- tute poor. The wards were intended for his accommoda- tion only, and the ^ general public’ of distress were not supposed to have any claim till it was established in their own various settlements. There was no time to dispute ; while boards and committees were squabbling and vilifying each other, the poor were perishing ; and so, among other efforts of the same kind, which had already been for some years carrying on their useful efforts^ 388 LABOUKS OF LOVE. Newport-Market Eefuge was established as a means of receiving houseless and starving creatures left to roam the streets, or to crouch for shelter in some deserted doorway out of the beat of the policeman, who, if he were charitably inclined, must have wished that they would in some way come under the criminal instead of the poor-law, as the only way of attracting attention and obtaining succour. I make this Eefuge my example not because it is the onl}^ institution of the kind, or the earliest, or even because it is in everything superior to several others in various parts of London, but because it well represents what it was intended to effect, and has sustained its first reputation by adapting its pro- visions to those cases for which it was designed — the destitute and starving poor in need of temporary food and shelter, and not the ^ casual pauper’ of to-day, that is to say, the regular tramp, the professional mendicant, and the relentless cadger, who does well on eleemosy- nary meals, and wears warm duds beneath his rags in cold weather. I have already referred to the institution in Newport Market as one of a number of connected, but not identi- cally associated, charities in the same district. Its in- dustrial school for boys is a part of its internal economy; but all that part of the building originally devoted to the purpose of a nightly shelter for the houseless is held ERRORS OF THE PRESS. 389 for its original purpose, and indeed considerable addi- tions have been made to it. Now for some time past great doubt has been ex- pressed as to the continued necessity for such institu- tions ; one daily newspaper has even gone so far as to publish an article on the 'Mischief of Night-refuges,’ entirely based on the groundless assumption that the ' Houseless Poor Act of 1864’ — the demands of which have not yet been carried out or enforced — rendered any other provision than the casual wards which wwe ordered to be built or enlarged altogether unnecessary. Not only does the writer of that article (and most of those who so regard the question) ignore the fact that there has been no legislation yet devised which will imme- diately compel parochial authorities, but also that the regulations which exact from the applicant a labour pay- ment in Exchange for casual food and shelter, are calcu- lated to make paupers of those who are temporarily distressed, but who would be able to find employment if they could obtain a little relief while seeking it. It is obvious surely that the workhouse labour-test, which detains a casual inmate until nearly noon on the day following his night’s lodging, deprives him of his be^t, if not his only, chance of obtaining work elsewhere. When he can get out to look for a job it is too late. The day’s engagements are made, and he is compelled to return to the casual ward to repeat the same process until hope dies within him, and he is made into a pauper against his will. Now to the idle scoundrel who is a chronic pauper, 390 LABOURS OF LOYE. except when lie can avail himself of some lucky chance hy cadging or theft, the workhouse bread and hot gruel, the bed of the casual shed, and the labour over which he. can dawdle away the morning, are no great hardships, and as he is pretty well known by the officials, or at all events by the attendant police at the ^ Eefuges,’ he has very little chance, even if he has the opportu- nity, of defeating the real objects of these institutions. Of course it is not difficult to prove that when the Ee- fuges were opened, after the Houseless Poor Act of 1864, the numbers in the casual wards diminished; but before any real argument against the Eefuges themselves can be based on such evidence, it is necessary to show that the decrease in the numbers arose from the defection of the idle and the vicious, and not from the happy recog- nition, by those who desired to work, of such temporary aid as would leave them a chance of restoration to self-sup- port, and would even assist them in finding employment. This Eefuge may be said to have been established by the influence, or I should better say by the personal exertions, of Mrs. Gladstone; who, recognising the deep necessity of the poverty-stricken district around Seven Dials, set about providing some remedy against the misery that every winter night brought to the houseless. It begun, as most of these Labours of Love do begin, in the establishment of a ^Mission;’ and so, as a neces- sary adjunct, there was formed a refuge for the most des- titute ; first for six, then for twelve, and afterwards for twenty. At last Mrs. Gladstone obtained enough money to enable the committee to occupy the old slaughter- SELF-SACRIFICE. 391 house of Newport Market, for which they were charged a heavy rent; and where, after very great difficulties in cleansing and repairing, they divided the premises into large whitewashed wards or rooms, and opened them under the earnest superintendence of the Eev. J. Wil- liams, at that time the incumbent of the parish of St. Mary. It was at this period that I first made acquaint- ance with the institution, and it was indeed a Labour of Love that required the noble self-sacrifice of earnest men and women who had devoted themselves to the work. Mr. Williams himself was almost nightly in the streets, rescuing from suffering, or even from death by hunger and exposure, the rejected of casual wards, or the hopeless wanderers who knew not where to go for relief in their last extremity. In this he was especially aided by ^sisters,’ who — by means of the special dress they wore, a dress not unlike that of the Eoman-catholic Sisters of Charity — were enabled to go about in the most depraved neighbourhoods without being molested, and with a recognition of their benevolent purpose. The work was arduous ; and, under the constant exposure, not only to cold and wet, but to the influences of the vitiated atmosphere in which so much of her time had to be passed, the health of the superintending sistqr at first gave way; and Mr. Williams himself was smitten down with fever, and lay long in a precarious condi- tion. Happily the sister recovered on her removal to East Grinstead, and Mr. Williams resumed his duties, to bring the Eefuge to more complete organisation before he became vicar of Beaumaris, whence he comes occa- 392 LABOURS OF LOVE. sionally to visit the old Home for the Homeless, in which he takes a constant interest. It is now less necessary to seek the houseless crea- tures who become the inmates of this Eefuge, for the place is well known ; and subscribers or visitors wdio apply for them are furnished with printed tickets, entitling those to wdiom they may give them to a night’s shelter, with a supper and breakfast. No visitor who stands at the entrance to the build- ing where the applicants are admitted can fail to see that they are not cases for the casual ward. Just as in some other institutions the pain of the spectacle is the degraded poverty of those who seek aid, the most affect- ing element at Newport Market is utter destitution, with- out that accustomed degradation which would find a fit- ting resource at the workhouse-door. There are broken- down men and women. Old men beaten in the battle of life and full of present sorrow ; young men who, having eaten of the husks, seek yet another opportu- nity of arising in a better mind ; men of middle age, not altogether hopeless, but crushed for the present, and with sore need of the sound of a kindly voice, the touch of a friendly hand. Women who have lost youth and worldly hope together; women who come dazed with want and the bitter dregs of that draught that they have drunk to the very lees ; women who, more weak than wicked, seek some stay for their wandering souls; women worn with ill -paid labour, and almost despairing for want of rest and food while they can seek better employment. Men and women who, if they THE visitors’ AID. 393 could but secure a few days’ — say a week’s — lodging, with just a mouthful of bread while they sought for work, would go forth with fresh hope, and would ^ thank God and take courage’ till they found what they sought. In that large clean kitchen is this mouthful of bread, and more — there is occasional soup for the nightly supper ; and when there is no soup, the bread is supplemented with hot cocoa or coffee. 0, that sweet nutritious cheering draught, which makes the hunch of bread into a goodly meal, and converts the clean wooden bunk with its covering of rugs into a cosy bed to those who have long been without soft lying ! Even as we stand aside and see the poor creatures come in, we can trace in many of their marred faces a refinement which makes them half ashamed. They need not be ; for there are gentlemen here who, with a true manly instinct, know how to take poverty by the hand without offensive patronage. And herein Newport-Market Kefuge is for- tunate ; for among its constant visitors are those whose social influence can often supply the most pressing needs of individual cases, by letters for admission to hospitals, reformatories, or other institutions, or even by obtaining employment for applicants who are all the more pitiable because they are ^ above the common.’ Even as I speak to one or two of the latest comers, who have passed the policemen and the keen-eyed door- keeper with his entry-book of new cases, a fine tall man, whose bearing shows him to have been a soldier, but whose grizzled hair and beard proclaim that he has had his discharge, comes in cap in hand, and in an- 394 LABOURS OF LOVE. swer to some inquiry is directed to speak to Mr. J. A. Shaw- Stewart, the chairman of the charity, who is present. In a few seconds the man’s papers are ex- amined, two or three searching questions are asked ; and as we go out we overhear the direction of the chairman — to keep the applicant for a day or two, in the hope of some situation being found for him. It is this personal interest of its supporters, this direct par- ticipation in the work on the part of ladies and gentle- men of position and influence, w^hich happily distin- guishes Newport-Market Eefuge ; just as the calm but cordial presence, the homelike manner, and yet the dis- tinctive dress and mild authority of the ^ sister’ invites the confldence of many of the poor women, who find in her the sympathy that her official name implies, and at the same time a friend ready and often able to help them in their need, to a change of life. For the tickets will admit the really deserving nightly for a week, with supper and breakfast of bread and cocoa ; and even this time may be extended, should there be reasonable expectations of their obtaining work. To quote the words of the last report, which have about them something suggestive of a pure free atmosphere of loving kindness : ‘ The mechanic from the north, who finds work slack at home, and who, weary and footsore, accosts the passing policeman, and is directed to Newport Market ; the discharged soldier and sailor, who, having snatched at liberty when offered, and foolishly foregone the per- manent advantages of reengagement and a pension, often KEFUGE TICKETS. 395 find themselves, with constitutions enfeebled and seeds of disease sown by early excess, incapable of hard and continuous labour; the law-writers and young clerks (not perhaps always the most steady in the office), who have been the first victims of an autumn reduction, and whose prospects will brighten after Christmas ; the navvy or common labourer, perhaps three or four weeks out of a job, and who will get taken on again” as the days lengthen; — these new faces present themselves and are freely admitted ; and having a week’s lodging before them, with the prospect of extension if the com- mittee see a reasonable chance of their getting work, recommence their search for employment with increased vigour. On the other hand the practised casual or loafer,” whose face and appearance are known to the officials who are brought in nightly contact with them, and to the police, who regularly attend at the hour of admission, are systematically excluded. ^ The practice is continued of issuing refuge tickets to all who ask for them, whether subscribers or not — entitling the bearer to seven nights’ shelter and homely fare — and as the holders of these tickets are admissible after the usual hour of admission, no charitable person need doubt that in bestowing one they are conferring a real favour on the recipient ; but it is, perhaps, right to mention that street beggars most rarely present these tickets ; it is believed that the rough accommodation, cleanliness, and order of this Eefuge do not suit them, and that they go farther and fare better. ‘ 12,999 nights’ lodgings and 30,668 rations have 396 LABOURS OF LOVE. been granted in 1869, and 307 men and women have obtained employment, or been sent home, through the instrumentality of the Kefuge. ‘ The women’s ward has been unusually crowded ; it has become a well-known harbour, a sure house of re- fuge. Maii}^ are brought by district-visitors, by visitors in workhouse wards, and by ladies connected with other charities, to be housed temporarily, till some permanent help can be obtained. Many more come unsolicited ; frequently to pour out to the sister a weary tale of shame, sorrow, and suffering, and by her large and wise sympathy and unwearied exertions, a locus ijoenitenticc is found for them. ‘ In this manner no less than 180 women during the past year have either been restored to their homes, placed out more or less permanently in penitentiaries, or supplied with situations. Surely by such results, obtained by working cordially with other charitable in- stitutions, we are solving one phase of a great want of the day, the organisation of charity.” ’ Among the men who received the benefits of the Eefuge last year were 178 labourers of all kinds, 54 painters, 49 clerks, 43 carpenters, 46 discharged soldiers, 42 porters, 31 tailors, 28 grooms, 27 servants, 23 sea- men, 18 printers, 18 stablemen, 18 waiters, 16 shoe- makers, 11 bakers, 11 bricklayers, and about 330 of various other mechanical trades. Among the women were 202 servants, 84 char- women, 55 cooks, 57 laundresses, 37 wives of labourers, 36 tailoresses, 32 needlewomen, 19 shirtmakers, 12 seam- PLAYHOUSE -YAED. 397 stresses, 12 nurses, 12 portresses, 12 factory girls, 12 ironers, 13 hawkers, 11 field-labourers, 11 artificial-flower makers, 10 governesses ; and 108 belonging to other employments, including 5 teachers and 2 actresses. With these women there were also 67 children who participated in the benefits of the institution. I have alluded to the Refuges already established before the failure of the Houseless Poor Act; and in speaking of these I cannot omit some reference to that which has just published its fiftieth report, namely, the Institution for the Houseless Poor in Playhouse-yard. This is one of the most remarkable institutions in Lon- don ; and since it is situated in that foul neighbourhood near Chequer-alley, of which I have already said some- thing, it has few visitors except those who go to claim the nightly shelter and the half-pound of bread, which is all that is granted in the way of relief. A pleasant gossipping magazine-paper might be written about Play- house-yard and the theatre from which it derived its name, where children were trained as actors, and after- wards taken to perform parts at the King’s Theatre. Any touch of romantic association that might be sup- posed to linger about the place, however, has vanished long ago. The yard itself, turning out of Whitecross- street, is, if possible, more sordid even than the neigh- bourhood of which it is the fitting representative ; and with a wide experience of ^ low London,’ I think I never saw a more painfully-suggestive crowd than that which waited outside the door of that blank building, on the cold drizzly afternoon when I recently called there to 398 LABOUBS OF LOVE. make inquiries. I cannot deny, however, that the crowd consisted of those individuals for whom the provisions of the institution seem to he especially designed. The* very lowest class of poverty — the representatives of sheer destitution — made up the 350 men and the ISO women who were to occupy the wards that night. I call them ‘ wards’ for want of another name ; but they bear but little resemblance to the large and airy, but comfortable, apartments with which that term is usually associated. The building itself was formerly a floor-cloth manufactory; and here on the ground-floor the roof rises far overhead, while the great space is divided only by a kind of platform rising some five feet above the ground, and reached by a short flight of steps. Above this again is a staircase leading to an enclosed room, warmed by a pipe-stove, for the reception of in- firm applicants, or those suffering from colds and coughs, while a similar room, with a side-slip or sup- plementary gallery, receives the women ; the latter being devoted to those who have infants, while the platform on the ground-floor is intended for boys. There is a strange sense of chill on first entering this place, not because it is really cold, but on acpount of its great size and the bare space, which is scarcely broken by any object that can serve to arrest attention. Emptiness is the great peculiarity; and this is scarcely relieved by the long row of wooden bunks upon the floor, so close together that they are only divided by the thick- ness of the wood that forms their sides, and might be so many orange-chests stowed in warehouse, if they did SMALL LUXURIES. 399 not look more like a row of coffins ranged in a vast vault — a fancy which is promoted by the black waterproof- covered mattress lying on each, and the sheet of wash- leather (the only coverlet) which hangs in stiff and yet shrunken folds from a nail in the wall at the head of every berth. It is little wonder that just outside the door a baked-potato can, which adds to its regular trade a supplementary kettle of stewed eels or hot pea-soup, should find customers among those 500 destitute crea- tures, some of whom may have contrived to secure a penny to buy some taste of warming food to prepare them for the half-pound of bread, wholesome, but dry and difficult to swallow, in the dead faintness of hunger. I do not intend to call the wisdom of the arrangements in question ; for the professed intention of the charity is to afford nightly shelter and assistance to those only who are really houseless and destitute, during inclement winter seasons, and the consequent suspension of out- door work. To fulfil this intention, it is provided that an asylum shall be open and available at all hours of the night, without the need, on the part of the appli- cant, of a ticket or any other passport but his or her own statement of helpless necessity. But in order to limit the relief to the really house- less, this has been confined to bread (in a sufficiency to sustain nature), shelter, and the means of rest. Those admitted on Saturday evening are permitted to quit the asylum on Sunday morning, and appty for readmission on Sunday evening, or may remain 400 LABOURS OF LOVE. in the asylum until Monday morning. On Sunday Divine service is performed by a clergyman of the Church of England, who occupies a desk on the edge of the platform on the lower floor. No. other minister than the appointed clergyman is permitted to address the in- mates in the asylum. In the course of Sunday, an ad- ditional ration of half a pound of bread, with three ounces of cheese, is given to each inmate who remains there for the day. This, then, is a mere record of what is being done in a building only opened during the severe nights of winter — a building that will soon cease to hold its pres.ent character, since the association will celebrate its jubilee year by opening a larger structure, now being erected for the purpose of a refuge in Banner-street, not very far from Playhouse-yard itself. The committee of the institution, whose office is at 75 Old Broad-street, will probably require extra contributions to meet this fresh effort ; but these will doubtless be obtained without any check to the operations next winter (even should it he a severe one), since this old-established charity has been so endowed as to have assets in trust to the amount of nearly 20,000L ; while last year’s subscriptions amounted only to 351L, and the expenses to some 1,400Z. Field-lane Eefuge. Twenty-eight years ago ‘ Field-lane’ was the name for a district which was regarded as the haunt of some of the most desperate inhabitants of the Great City. So HOW IT BEGAN. 401 ignorant, so steeped in poverty and vice, so lawless were these people, that even police-officers would not go alone to some of the courts and alleys where they lived. The place was a terror to London ; and close to the main thoroughfare of Holborn a rogues’ fair was held, where stolen handkerchiefs fluttered at the shop- doors, and every other house was the resort of thieves, mendicants, and cadgers, who held their orgies there in the days when there really were thieves’ kitchens, and Mr. Fagin held his own in a den where no officer dare claim admission unaided by an armed force. • At that time, or soon afterwards, a few earnest Christian people secured a room in one of these courts, and induced a few young children to attend a school there. The improvement in the appearance and be- haviour of these little neophytes checked the opposition even of the rough people about them ; and the work went on, growing in the estimation of the poor by whom it was surrounded, till it became necessary to ex- tend it ; and the leaven that began in that single room soon exerted a wide and lasting influence on the whole lump of the hitherto wretched and lawless neighbour- hood. In the course of years, the recognition given to this successful effort enabled the committee to build a refuge and infant-schools, in which they laboured suc- cessfully till 1866, when their premises were required by the Corporation. They at once purchased a piece of land on Saffron-hill, and erected a large building on a site popularly supposed to be that of the house of the famous Jonathan Wild; and it is rumoured that por- DD 402 LABOUKS OF LOVE. tions of a human skeleton were discovered in digging the foundations. Whatever evil influences may have been associated with the place, however, were exorcised long ago. On the 15th of June 1865 Lord Shaftesbury laid the foundation-stone of the present Field -lane Refuge, and the following statement was made on the occasion : ^ The building, fittings, and expenses under contract involve an outlay of 10,000Z., and when complete will carry out the following operations: Free day-schools for the accommodation of one thousand children ; night- schools for boys in situations ; a free library and read- ing-room ior lads after working hours; tailoring and shoemaking industrial classes; night-school for elder girls at work during the day ; elder girls’ industrial classes ; mothers’ sewing class ; clothing club for mo- thers and children ; maternal department ; penny bank (six hundred depositors) ; baths and wash-houses for the homeless; Bible schools (eighty-four voluntary teachers); ragged church (present attendance, three hundred to five hundred) ; Lord’s-day evening service for parents ; male refuge to accommodate eighty persons; female refuge to accommodate ninety persons ; training home for thirty servants. ^ Over ten thousand persons annually share some of the benefits of the institution, out of which, on an average; one thousand seven hundred are placed in a position to earn their daily bread, the whole cost only averages 2,600L ^ Since the first opening of the institution in 1842, EXTENDED USEFULNESS. 403 and during the twenty-three years that have elapsed, 955 children have been instructed in the infant-schools ; 8,953 have been instructed in the day-schools, of whom 3,079 have been placed in situations; 3,850 have been instructed in the evening schools ; 9,000 in the refuge evening classes; 3,930 in the tailoring and shoemaking classes; 812 girls in the night-school; 2,100 girls in the industrial classes; 670 have been taught in the mothers’ sewing class; 8,500 garments have been made by the children for the clothing society; 900 prizes given to the children remaining in places over twelve months; 3,000 depositors in the penny bank; 111,832 men, boys, women, and girls have passed through the refuges, 10,747 of whom have been provided with situa- tions or work. The greater majority of these have at- tended the Bible-schools and ragged-school church-ser- vices on the Lord’s-day, to instruct in which there are 93 voluntary teachers.’ So thoroughly has this noble establishment canied on its extended work of usefulness, that it includes within itself examples of almost all those Labours of Love, among the most destitute portion of the community, which have been already noticed with reference to other institutions, — with the additional advantage of having a building constructed for the purpose. This advantage is seen at once on entering the great wards devoted to the purpose of night-refuges, w-here, instead of being cramped for space, the unfortunate in- mates can sit comfortably at large tables, and on backed benclies, to take their bread and cocoa, or even to read 404 LABOUKS OF LOVE. such books and magazines as are provided for them. The beds here too differ from those previously described, since they consist of strips of sacking stretched on iron struts from the wall, and so form a series of bedsteads about a foot apart, and covered with comfortable rugs. The great height and space of the rooms — the walls of which have been inscribed with texts and mottoes by an orna- mental ^ writer,’ who was for some time an inmate of the institution — give plenty of ventilation, while at the same time an even temperature can be maintained. The day-school, which is at the very top of the building, is a grand room, extending over nearly the whole area, and consists of a boys’ and girls’ school, which can be divided if necessary. To begin at the beginning, however. Field-lane has its ‘babies’ nursery’ — a step preliminary even to the infant-school, — where, in one of the large upper rooms, thirty-seven little wide-eyed wondering mites, who are taken care of daily during the winter months, are pro- vided with suitable food and milk. This feature of the institution arose from the fact that the little girls were formerly allowed to bring a baby sister to school with them, as the only chance of their being able to obtain instruction ; but the numbers of baby sisters multiplied, until teaching itself became impossible amidst such a force of infantry ; and so spe- cial juvenile nurses were told off for the work of mind- ing, and I for one am confident that they do their work well. The way in which one of them attended to the requirements of an infantine nose at the time that she THE BABIES • NUBSEBY. 405 was answering my questions, assured me that she at least was fully qualified. An infant-school, where 140 children in the morn- ing and 147 in the afternoon are taught reading, writ- ing, arithmetic, and Scripture lessons, as well as those on natural history and common objects, receives the little ones of from three to seven years old, after which age they are transferred to the regular day-school. It should be recorded, however, that during last year the infants paid 9Z. 8s. Ad. into the clothing club, for which they received 224 garments made by them- selves. In fact, the institution at Field-lane is another organisation of charity in a single district, which has been attended with the happiest results, each depart- ment being directly associated with the other. The average attendance in the boys’ day-school is 174, and in the girls’ school 186. During the year 100 girls left the school to take situations or to follow some employment, and sewing is a part of the regular instruction. Of course the condition of many of the children is often deplorable ; but a clothing society formed of several ladies is continually making efforts to provide suitable garments and shoes for these half- naked little ones, the parents paying something towards the cost, and the remaining expense being defrayed by the ladies themselves. Prizes in the shape of articles of clothing for regular attendance have also been given by the visiting superintendent of the schools. In reference to a subject on which I have previously spoken, I cannot refrain from extracting from the ap- 406 LABOURS OF LOVE. peal of the committee the following remarks in reference to gifts of broken or remaining food, or of soup and other nourishment, to such institutions : ^ No language can adequately express the amount of good these combined gifts have been the means of con- ferring upon the poor, not only in adding to their com- fort, but, under God, in the preservation of precious lives : were the full amount of blessings thus conferred more generally known, many broken fragments, now literally wasted, would find their way to homes where the gifts would be received with grateful thanks. ^ During the past severe winter loss of work com- pelled many to part with their last piece of furniture and their last garment, and to seek a temporary home in the poor-house or elsewhere, until they could again obtain employment, when new homes had to be made, and the children fresh clad. Many have struggled like giants with low wages, and in spite of temporary loss of work and sickness, to attain that end. Whole courts and alleys have been swept away, and the poor had to turn out and find homes in other still more crowded places. In one house there are fifty-five human beings, nineteen of whom attend the night-school. Many houses have a family in every room, and take a lodger besides.’ Even at the risk of seeming to recapitulate some La- bours of Love already considered in previous pages, I must mention that this wonderfully inclusive charity has a ^night-school for boys in situations,’ with 200 names upon the book, and an attendance varying from 70 to about 200, according to the season. From seven THE servants’ TRAINING-HOME. 407 till nine o’clock these lads assemble on three evenings a-week, and are thus kept out of the streets and re- ceive useful instruction. A similar school, where from 50 to 100 girls are taught reading, writing, and arith- metic, is also well supported ; while a large industrial class, where 300 girls of from ten to sixteen years old are taught to sew, and to cut out and make their own clothes, is so highly beneficial, that nearly half the class over twelve years of age are now earning their own living in workrooms, domestic service, and other em- ployments, owing to the instruction first imparted to them at the day-schools, and afterwards improved in these classes. Then there are industrial classes to teach men and boys such tailoring and shoemaking as will enable them to mend their own clothes ; a mother’s class ; a mater- nity society; and special relief in food, clothing, the loan of blankets, and sometimes in money, to meet some of the various necessities of the poverty-stricken dis- trict. One of the most hopeful departments of this Labour of Love is the servants’ training home, for which some of the upper rooms of the great building are appro- priated. This institution is designed not only to train elder girls for service, hut to protect friendless young women who are out of situations. They are placed under religious influences, and during the day they are employed making garments for those going to service, each of whom is provided with an entire change of clothing. When situations are obtained from this room, 408 LABOURS OF LOVE. the girls are not allowed to come back, unless on special recommendations from their mistresses. The report says, one great good conferred by the servants’ room is the immense number who obtain situations with respectable Christian families. Some of the girls received here are found to have been dismissed peremp- torily from service, without a moment’s notice, so that they have been almost driven to vicious lives. Others, discharged from hospitals, are allowed to stay for a time, until they become strong enough to work. During the last official year 96 additional servants were admitted to the training home ; of these, and those formerly in the institution, 90 have been pro- vided with outfits and sent to service; 4 restored to their friends ; 3 sent to training schools ; 10 are now in training; 574 garments have been made; 511 gar- ments given away ; 8 girls received prizes for keeping their situations twelve months and upwards. The younger girls in training are at the time of my visit engaged in so hearty a game in one of the large wards, that I am pleased to be able to record that their activity and general soundness of breath indicate a very fair state of physical strength, and a full appreciation of the liberty to play as well as work. With the youths’ institute, already referred to in my account of the ‘Working Boys’ Club,’ I must close a brief sketch of my visit to an established charity, of which the people of this Great City may well thankfully acknowledge the benefits, and acknowledge them too by such gifts as may serve to sustain one or other of the operations RESULTS. 409 carried on in that large building on Saffron-hill ; gifts of food, or garments, clothes or linen, hooks or flannel, soup or meal, — all such things are daily needs there ; and money, too, is needed to keep that vast home full of inmates; to feed the hungry, cover the naked, advise the sad, comfort the sorrowful, and visit the poor and needy in their affliction. The actual refuge work, which is most to my pre- sent purpose, included in the official year : Strangers received, 3,524; lodgings supplied, 22,407; loaves of bread, 101,747 ; provided with situations and work, 628 ; restored to friends, 47 ; sent from the streets to the industrial schools, 10 ; sent to other refuges, 30 ; garments given, 450 ; admitted to infirmary, 9. And in the hoys’ refuge and industrial schools : Boys admitted under seventeen years of age, 103 ; sent to industrial schools by the magistrates, 27 ; sent to sea, 25 ; sent to other refuges, 39 ; restored to friends and home, 13 ; sent to infirmary, 6. Thus 809 men and hoys were taken from the streets and provided for by their own exertions. ^ Carter’s Kitchen.’ A ra^ damp evening, with a pale crescent peeping now and then out of the murky clouds, as though the moon had no intention of associating her chaste light with the foul flaring gas that roars and quivers from the iron pipes in the unfinished roadway of the new bridge of Blackfriars. 410 LABOURS OF LOVE. It was but a day or two ago that a royal procession passed along this now muddy and neglected -looking high^vay. A civic pavilion, of more or less temporary magnificence, occupied the space above the central arch. Flags, balconies, and striped awnings, with such other signs of a festive occasion as we colourless English people are permitted by fashion and a regard to our intense respectability to exhibit, gave a gay and — as a few people among the assembled multitude observed — ^almost a continental’ appearance to the scene, even though the great iron railway loomed with hideous utilitarian tyranny, and shut out the seaward view of sky and stream. To-night there is not a patch or shred which will serve as a reminiscence of the pageant. The darkly- frowning iron structure beyond is lost in gloom, and the wayfarers are so few that a score of shivering idlers, congregated round one of the open flaming jets that warns us of a deep pit in the causeway, look like a crowd, and seem to give just enough of animation to the scene to reassure us that we have not been snatched suddenly from the life and bustle of Fleet-street to be set down in a city of shadows, where there is nothing real but the mud, and the sound of our ghostly footfalls is deadened in the misty air. Noting the peculiarly deserted appearance of the streets in this locality, it becomes a curious speculation what has become of the vast impressive assemblage which filled every available stand-point to watch the Queen go by to open the new bridge and the great via- DISMAL CONTRASTS. 411 duct. More curious still is the reflection that of that great army of ^ the unemployed/ which was to have made its silent protestation in the face of royalty, it required a keen eye to distinguish a single representa- tive. The exhortation, ‘ Come in your thousands,’ pro- duced no particular result. It is the one characteristic of real poverty and suffering that it shrinks from parad- ing its wretchedness ; and though the thousands were there, it was in the character of uncomplaining sight- seers. When the show was over they melted away ; and as the light died out, and the signals of rejoicing were taken down, and the banners were furled, and the brilliant company that had made the spectacle went to the rich civic banquet, or drove home to a comfortable dinner, the crowd of houseless and hungry creatures went its way; some of its members to form dejected groups round the doors of casual wards and night re- fuges, and others to seek their miserable homes, where the fireless hearths and empty cupboards contrasted so bitterly with the light and warmth and sense of com- fort to be found in the brilliant gin-shops at the street- corners, where for a few pence a wretch might tempo- rarily forget his hunger, and lull the gnawing of an empty stomach. Taken altogether — say, in a general view from a club-window — it looked such a comfortable crowd, with so few signs of nakedness and starvation, that a foreigner altogether unacquainted with English institutions might have imagined some arrangements by which both those unpleasant elements had been kept out of sight ; while 412 LABOURS OF LOVE. even an undiscriminating observer, selfishly sceptical about the reports of distress and suffering, could have pointed to the decent appearance and uncomplaining aspect of the masses as an evidence of the exaggeration of such appeals as are made daily for charitable relief. It was only necessary to go in and out amongst the people to dispel either illusion. Out-numbered by those who were comparatively comfortable and prosperous, but at the same time representing a proportion of the London population almost appalling in its dire neces- sity, the thousands stood and made no sign but that of loyal patience, and, however hopelessly, went back whence they had come — went back, many of them, to this dim tangle of streets which you and I are now traversing in the south-eastern portion of the Great City, part of which shares, with other neighbourhoods at the cardinal points of the compass, the reputation of being ‘ one of the worst quarters of London’ — a description which too frequently implies the place where the famished and poverty-stricken, seeking some cheap dwelling, find that they are the near neighbours of vice and crime, and so are undistinguished from them in the rigid censure of the law. There are foul streets and blind alleys enough in this district, the resort of thieves and ruffians — places near which it is dangerous to pass after nightfall, and where even in broad daylight, sudden assault and rob- bery are so common that the entrances to them might be marked, as the infected houses were scored in the days of the Plague. Gangs of juvenile desperadoes sally ^ LITTLE HELL.’ 413 forth from their haunts, and are the terror of the sur- rounding neighbourhoods. Passengers in the main thoroughfares are jostled ; and should any attempt be made to follow and capture the offender, his companions are armed with stones with which to beat down and maim their opponents. It is suggestive that there should be a locality distinctly known by the name of ^Little Hell;’ but there are also wretched rows of tenements, the abodes of that section of the honest labouring class which is the first to feel the depression of trade and the vicis- situdes of failing industries. Bricklayers, chairmakers, journeyman tailors, carpenters, casual and dock la- bourers, men employed at wharves in the lading or un- lading of ships, market porters, and not a few wretch- edly-paid clerks, to whom the necessary economy of a City office, a change of partners, or the breaking-up of a large firm, mean dismissal, and the sharp pangs of want, aggravated by the knowledge that they have been brought up to no trade or handicraft by which they might earn the price of a meal for themselves and their children. Then there are garden-women, needle-women, laun- dresses, servants out of place, and those who, being widows, or having been deserted by their husbands, try to subsist on such precarious work as they can obtain as charwomen, ironers, and hucksters of fruit or fish. Of the Irish colony I need say nothing now : they are not always the poorest or the most patient, though many of them suffer terribly ; and about Dock- 414 LABOURS OF LOVE. head and the farther eastern localities they and their children are the most prominent, if not the most nu- merous, among the unemployed. It is tg see something of what is being done for this great multitude of people that we are out to-night ; to look on while two hundred out of the thousands on the ^ Surrey side’ seek the relief which shall enable them to face another day, by providing them with such food and shelter as offer no inducement to any but the destitute, and yet is more humane than the Poor-law dole, in re- turn for which the morning’s task would occupy them till they were too late, to go forth on the weary search for a day’s work. It is this daily task, expressly intended only for the casual tramp and the professional pauper, that presses so hardly on the destitute creatures who are willing to work if they can find work to do. The morning bread and gruel must be paid foi^ by some un- accustomed labour, which steals the hours during which they might best hope to obtain a day’s employment. The test which is meant to deter from pauperism makes the unwilling claimant of relief for the following night, and may turn the despairing artisan into the regular cadger. Let it be remembered that Walworth, Bermondsey, Southwark, and Lambeth represent half a million of people, and it may not be difficult to form a rough estimate of the number of destitute and starving creatures in that unfashionable quarter. Taking only the nearer neighbourhood of the Borough, and the district lying between Waterloo and London Bridges, it needs but an afternoon’s journey WISTFUL FACES. 415 to discover ample evidence of widely-spread wretched- ness, which can he but partially alleviated by any present organisation. All honour then to those who, in the faith and hope of Christianity, try to do what in* them lies ; and without despising the day of small things, give food and shelter, if but for a single night, to a hundred, and so show the way to those who stand appalled by the magnitude of the evil which they dare not try to remedy. We cross the boundary of the labyrinth of which we speak, and a searching wind drives a cold rain against our legs a,s we turn down the Southwark Bridge- road, and stop before a large wooden gateway, like the entrance to a manufactory. It is too dark to see the words ^ South-London Night-Kefuge,’ which are painted on a board above ; and even the inscription on the gate itself, which announces that the manufacture going on inside is the concoction of soup for the benefit of the poor, is for the time obscured. There is no mistak- ing the place, however; for about fifty women are wait- ing — 0 how anxiously ! — for six o’clock, when the gate will be opened, and as many of them admitted as can be provided for out of the funds already in hand for the purpose. Did you ever see more wistful faces as the flicker of the street-lamp falls on them for a moment ? — faces wan with hunger, and many of them furrowed with the marks of suffering ; but few of them hearing an impatient expression — not one with the defiant stare or the servile smirk of the regular pauper. One or two of them, with indistinct bundles, round which they 416 LABOURS OF LOVE. wrap their scanty shawls so carefully that we know they have brought their babies with them to get the warmth and shelter for which they know not otherwise where to turn. Young women : here and there one with a damaged crumpled flower in her bonnet; only one or two without bonnets, and they evidently unac- customed to use the shawl as a covering for the head. None speaking except in a low tone, and then hut little, as though the anxiety to he among the number chosen precluded much conversation. So they stand; and it is with a feeling of dismay that we learn how the want of necessary funds will forbid the admis- sion of more than half the number of applicants that the place will hold. Fifty men and fifty women, in- stead of a hundred or more of each, are to he the guests to-night ; and the rest, to whom the inviting finger of the keen-eyed manager does not point when he opens the gate, must wander other whither. It yet wants nearly half an hour to six o’clock, how- ever, and we have time to see what sort of a place this South-London Eefuge is, and to learn how Mr. William Carter, having been ^ converted’ — and let those look to it who see an opportunity for a sneer in any word that has in it a righteous meaning, however it may have been perverted by the insincere — set to the work of establishing a Mission in this southern tract of London heathendom ; and knowing that though man lives not by bread alone, he yet must live his mortal life by bread, saw that food and rest, and fire and clothing, and Christian brotherly love and sympathy, must help A QUEER BUILDING. 417 to expound the Christian faith as nothing else can expound it amongst the suffering poor. Hence, not only the Walworth Mission -Hall and Park Hall — which is quite close to that hrimstony thoroughfare called Little Hell — and Victoria Hall and Beulah Hall, where there are preaching and school on Sundays, and mothers’ meetings; — but a home for reduced or destitute servant-girls, where domestic servants apply- ing to the Eefuge, or recommended by a district-visitor, may find food and shelter till they can retrieve them- selves and obtain another situation ; a maternity charity and relief fund, with boxes of clothing lent to poor destitute lying-in women; and soup-kitchens, on the floor of the chief of which we are now standing, where, in two great ^jacketed’ pans, 500 gallons of strong and savoury stew can be made to wobble. Not that this queer building in the Southwark Bridge-road was ever built for the purpose of board or lodging. By a remark- able foreshadowing of its present relation to bread, it was originally a flour - mill ; which at once explains our going up a short flight of stone steps and dowm another flight before we reach the basement, where a great oven is all a-glow after the drawing of a batch of such sweet and wholesome bread as scents the whole place, as though some lingering perfume had been left behind by the fragrant meal that once fell through the upper story. It is a grateful touch of real nature in this place, that the bread baked for the women who are now w'aiting at the door is ^cottage;’ while the men, who are to be admitted at a door on the other side of EE 418 LABOURS OF LOVE. the building next their own ward, have to put up with the ordinary half-quartern ^ household.’ As a connois- seur of bread — having smelt, handled, and tasted work- house, prison, reformatory, military, naval, and other loaves — I pronounce the baker at Carter’s Kitchen to be master of his craft. But it is not only with the bread we have to do. Close beside the oven is. a big boiler filled with hot water, the furnace of which serves with air the great hollow shafts that go completely through the building from basement to roof, and keep the w^ards at a regular temperature. Beyond the boiler in this rather w^arm but still draughty stone kitchen — which is more like the engine-room of a factory than any other place — stand the three pans already mentioned, heated by steam; in two of these the nourishing soup is jugged, and dispensed whenever there are funds to buy beef, pork, and mutton, barley, carrots, and sea- soning ; and here, against the wall, are great tin recep- tacles, like magnified milk-pails, destined to be filled with the steaming brew, and despatched in light carts to the New Cut, Lambeth Walk, Dockhead, and even to Deptford, if the funds will enable the supply to reach to the various stations of the institution. The system on which the soup, as well as bread and other relief, is distributed, is by the issue of tickets to the Scripture- readers, district-visitors, and others who visit the poor, and know who are really necessitous. In the wdnter of 1867 three thousand of these free tickets were given away daily in Walworth, Bermondsey, South w’ark, and Lambeth ; and in exchange for each of them the poor SAMARITAN WORK. 419 received a quart of good soup and half-a-pound of bread. Let us think : three thousand hungry mouths filled daily; and when to this are added twenty maternity- boxes in constant use, with each of which was given five shillings’ worth of food to help to sustain the poor destitute mother in the time of deepest trial, peculiarities of religious phraseology, some lack of what we are apt to call ^education,’ a hundred external acci- dents of manner, count for nothing. ^During the winter,’ says the superintendent — for it is not easy to sum up the operations of Carter’s Kitchen in better words — ‘ the applications for help were more numerous than ever, and this institution was kept in a state of constant activity. Bread was made and distributed by ticket to numberless starving families ; coffee and soup was sent to their homes ; clothing was given to tlie naked ; boxes of linen were lent to poor mothers at their confinement; and money was given to the district-visitors to buy nourishment for the sick. The shelter -obtained at the Night- Kefuge gladdened the hearts of many thousands of the homeless ; the baths brightened their faces and eased their swollen feet; the warm wards comforted those who were cold; the bread satisfied their hunger; the hot coffee stimulated their emaciated bodies ; the preached Gospel gave hope to the disconsolate ; and in the bunks they found the rest (in sleep) they so much needed. The morning found them refreshed, and with grateful hearts. As they passed out of the gate, many said, again and again, May God bless you !” Although the institution 420 LABOURS OF LOVE. will accommodate 150 men and 100 women, yet we could not receive all that came ; many, very many, had to go away and seek shelter elsewhere. Some, to make their distressing circumstances known, made application by letter. Others brought recommendations from their former employers and friends. Good workmen were con- tinually asking for help to pay their lodging, to prevent them being turned into the streets with their families.’ It may readily be imagined that, as the Kefuge is open every night in the year to the homeless and desti- tute, the cases are various, and that many of them in- volve strange histories of privation and misfortune. Among the applicants are law-writers, two of whom are now employed in conducting some of the correspondence or other clerkly work, in return for their full board and lodging for the two or three days that they have begged to be allowed to remain. Some applicants, of whom it is known that they have good expectation of ob- taining work if they can tide over a few days, are suf- fered to come nightly until they succeed ; while those already known as honest and deserving cases will obtain the same boon for others whose situation will bear in- quiry. Perhaps some of the applications have about them too suspicious a resemblance to the style of the begging-letter impostor ; but it is necessary to remem- ber, first, that the impostor founds his style upon his knowledge of what really needy people with some edu- catibn would be likely to write ; and secondly, that the help afforded would not amount to any great induce- ment either to idleness or misrepresentation. THE REGULAR COSTER. 421 Taking as an average tlie account in the report before us, it would appear that among the female appli- cants for food and shelter needlewomen and charwomen would be by far the most numerous ; then would follow general servants, in about the proportion of two-thirds ; rather fewer laundresses ; and then in much smaller numbers ironers, tailoresses, hawkers, bootbinders, book- folders, garden - w^omen, dressmakers, and weavers. Among the men, ^ labourers’ represent by far the greater number ; the next in succession being painters, who number not more than one-seventeenth as many as the labourers ; while carpenters, porters, bricklayers, and clerks are about half as numerous as the painters. Tailors number about half as many as the painters ; and then follow grooms, bakers, lawyers, seamen, stokers, gardeners, masons, turners, servants, and wait- ers ; but almost all callings, and several trades, are re presented, schoolmasters, musicians, engineers, account- ants, and even a fisherman and a shepherd, appearing on the list. It at first appears remarkable that coster- mongers should occupy almost the lowest numerical place among these destitute men ; but a moment’s re- flection will explain it. The regular coster is a fellow of infinite wit and unexhausted resources — one of those who can turn his hand to anything, and being to some extent known both at the markets and among cer- tain tradespeople, can often get a job of work at slack times, and knows how to lay out even a shilling in some seasonable merchandise that may turn the ready penny. Even here, however, the wide sympathy of this South- 422 LABOURS OF LOYE. wark Refuge is now and then displayed, by affording the shilling and a basket to help the willing worker to help himself ; while, beside food and lodging, and such cloth- ing as may be supplied by gifts of cast-off or coarse gar- ments, some of the most deserving cases have received a little money. A few mechanics, such as carpenters, painters, plasterers, and brickmakers, have received tools to enable them to get to work ; and at least one labourer, probably with the prospect of work at a granary or potato- or coal-warehouse, has had a shovel bestowed upon him for the same purpose. But already the long hand of the clock marks past the quarter, and in a few minutes it will be time to admit those anxious applicants. The third great copper is simmering full of coffee, for which the milk stands ready in a great can, the sugar having been already added to the proper toothsome f)oint. The loaves are each cut into four, so that every destitute creature shall have half-a-pound of bread ; the bright tin pannikins hang by their handles ready to receive each their pint of w'arm comforting drink. ‘ We always make it a rule for the four officers of the house to kneel dowm in prayer before we open the doors,’ says the superintendent ; ‘ and we make no dif- ference in that respect when we have visitors.’ And so w^e go up to the counting-house, and there the wwds- man and wardswoman who receive their destitute breth- ren and sisters, the superintendent, and the master- baker offer up their petitions, and speak like men who, perhaps without the ability to use fine phraseology, do PRAYERFUL HABITS. 423 seem to think they may ask for what they need from their heavenly Father. When of three men, one can plainly and in so many words ask the Almighty to send them funds, and enable them to open the soup-kitchens to the poor, and anothSr can, with a fervency in which we sincerely join, implore that, when the doors are opened, his pointing finger may he directed to those who are most in need, and can say, simply as a part of his general appeal, ^ and God bless the baker,’ there is more in it than mere form — more even than the niceties of turns of expression and genteel consciousness of ex- treme propriety of diction. It is almost improper even to allude to this part of the proceedings, so sacred a thing is prayer ; but as it is the fashion to carp at any kind of religious phraseology, and speak of it as ^cant,’ I venture to mention that the fastidious in this respect will not find their presence at Carter’s Kitchen restrain the usual observances. It is already time to open the door, however ; and, almost before we are aware of it, the superintendent is standing on the step, silently indicating with his finger the applicants to whom admission will first be granted. It is one of the saddest spectacles I ever witnessed, to see these decently-clad women come in one by one, and to note their worn w^eary faces. One of them, carrying a baby wrapped in her scanty cape, passes close to me, and I hear her deep sigh, half of relief, half of exhaus- tion, as she gasps, ^ So glad — to get — in !’ with a sob in every word. When seventeen have passed into the lobby, the gate is closed for a little while, and we go 424 LABOURS OF LOVE. over to the men’s side, where we can see why only this number is admitted at one time. In the long stone- paved room to which they are directed immediately on entering, are two troughs, or rather gutters, supplied with warm water running along each side ; and over these, against the wall, another long trough, forming a series of wash-basins, with a rack above for receiving shoes, stockings, caps, &c. Each one, as he enters, has handed to him a piece of soap and a towel, and, di- vesting himself of shoes and stockings, steps into the trough. It must be a pleasant, almost a luxurious, mo- ment for these poor fellows, when they feel the genial comfort of this foot-bath, and are at the same time able to have a good wash. They look brighter, better, more cheerful for the operation, and by the time they have finished and gone up to the dormitory, some of them are scarcely to be recognised as the same indivi- duals who came in, looking so haggard and miserable, only ten minutes ago. Forty men and forty women are all who can be received to-night ; for the funds will not permit the dormitories to be filled with the 220 for whom room can be found, if money be forthcoming. When we speak of dormitories, we often mean places with neat white beds, on iron bedsteads, and plenty of rugs or coverlets; but the word has no such meaning at Carter’s Eefuge. In the great rooms, once the flour- and grain-floors of the mill, the only furniture is a wooden bench, extending round the place against the wall, and two long rows of wooden bunks or berths oc- THE DORMITORIES. 425 cupying tlie floor from end to end. These, with the low ceiling, crossed with heavy beams, give the place a bare look ; for there is neither bed, mattress, nor cover- lid — the place of a pillow even being supplied by a slight elevation at the upper end of each bunk. Of course the inmates only partially undress, and may dispose their outer garments in any way they think proper. As for a blanket, there is a blanket of w^arm air in the room itself; for the temperature is kept at a point which would not be cold even to bare feet. While the inmates are despatching their comforting food and drink, one or other of the mission-people read to them, or offer up prayer, or lead them to sing a hymn ; but I am now speaking of the Kitchen only, and not of the mission-work, with some peculiarities of which I do not agree. This and almost all similar institutions are con- nected with what is now called ^ a Mission,’ including, like that of Field-lane, a number of benevolent opera- tions under one connected scheme ; and in this tend- ency can we alone hope to find the solution of the pre- sent appalling question of the relief of distress. The Only Way. The society already established for promoting such an organisation has not made as much progress in its practical adoption as might have been hoped for it ; but its system is well-considered, and will doubtless, with some modifications, be accepted throughout the 426 LABOURS OF LOYE. metropolis — the difficulties of establishing a connec- tion between each district, and the representation of every district at a general central council or com- mittee, being at present the greatest obstacles to its con- solidation into a regular method of dealing with the whole of London. It is, however, to promote the completion of such a scheme^ that a number of gentlemen have founded the ^Association for organising Charitable Eelief and re- pressing Mendicity,’ under the presidency of the Bishop of London, and with the Earl of Lichfield as chairman of the council. The offices of this society are in Buck- ingham-street. Strand ; and about twenty London dis- trict committees have been formed in accordance with its regulations. The impossibility of meeting the actual necessities of the poor by means of parochial relief lies in the fact that it is an established principle of the poor - laws not to afford such relief except to persons ac- tually destitute, so that no supplementary assistance to those who are suffering from temporary affliction is contemplated; and any direct relief intended to sup- plement that of the parish is at once taken as a reason for withholding or greatly reducing the parish allowance. It is difficult to see how this can be otherwise under the present system ; but there might be such coopera- tion between charitable associations and the parochial machinery as to make both work harmoniously; and this the Poor-law Board strongly advises, although, from its very position, it can do no more than advise, DRiUYING A LINE. 427 since it cannot materially contribute towards tlie funds for unofficial relief of the sick and the temporarily desti- tute. Such assistance as bedding, clothing, and firing, or even lodging, may be permitted to be given, even to those in receipt of parish allowances ; but no money aid and no contributions* of food. It would be most desirable, however, if the union workhouses should be- come only retreats for the care of the infirm, the aged, and those incapacitated for work by sickness or per- manent affliction ; and that there should also be a school and training-home for each parochial district, and, of course, a casual ward and labour-shed for the regular tramps and the casual wayfarers until they can either be passed on to their own places or become resi- dent. The result of such an arrangement would be a general organisation of the whole metropolis into a chain of charitable associations, separate as to the links, but united in action and harmonising in general purpose and essential details — the marriage of centralisation and local self-government. The principal feature of the plan proposed by the society is that of separating the respectable rqsident poor from the vagrant and those who prey upon the funds of all charity by shifting their quarters continually and receiving relief from each. To accomplish this it would divide the present parishes into more manage- able areas, so as to be able to carry out an effectual system of visitation amongst the poor. It would then establish parochial relief-offices in each district, so that the poor might not be compelled to go a long distance 428 LABOURS OF LOYE. to the workhouse for assistance. ^At the parochial re- lief-office a relieving-officer and a constable would he resident, and two relieving-officers would he in daily attendance, one to receive fresh cases and answer ques- tions, the other to visit cases and report to the hoard at the workhouse. There would also he a store-room for bread and a room for seeing medical cases. The relieving-officer would, it is believed, soon he able to give some information about every person coming before him for relief, and could immediately distinguish be- tween tramps and residents. So much for the poor-law officer. But there would also be another officer — ^ the charity agent’ — represent- ing the charity committee of his district, as the poor- law officer represents the guardians. He would be expected to know the district thor- oughly, and to be in constant communication with the district-visitors, and would, in cases of immediate neces- sity (not being poor-law cases), be empowered by his committee to grant some relief on the spot, giving an account to his committee at their weekly meeting. After a time this committee would be able to divide its cases for relief into classes, such as aged persons requiring small weekly pensions, temporarily distressed artisans needing small advances to purchase materials or to re- deem tools, aid in sickness or times of special need, &c. The proper division of a district into areas would enable them to estimate the deserving character and degree of trustworthiness of the recipients of relief — a proceeding now difficult, if not impossible. CONSIDERATIONS. 429 Of course, to render tliis plan completely operative, it would be necessary to establish a close official under- standing between the poor-law relieving-officer and the charity agent, as well as between the board of guardians and the charity committee. For the purpose of ex- plaining the scheme, the association has already held meetings in various parts of London, and offers to assist in all matters of detail for establishing local-relief com- mittees. It is confidently believed that if the charit- ably disposed would, instead of indiscriminate alms- giving in the streets, hand over a small subscription to such district committees, a vastly greater amount of good would be effected with the money than is now secured, and a great improvement vrould be the result, not only in the condition of the poor, but in the aboli- tion of the trade of mendicancy. The first information required would be what chari- ties, both of a local and a general nature, exist in each district, and how many persons in that and other dis- tricts are in receipt of relief from each. For this pur- pose a tabulated sheet would be issued with columns for the names of church, chapel, and other charities, the nature of those charities, whether for relief and pro- vision, for religious or educational instruction, and so on ; while the number of persons receiving poor-law re- lief would also appear in the same return. Of course we can see where this would lead to, and where the opposition to such a scheme would be likely to come from. Some resistance might be anticipated from cer- tain clergymen and ministers of congregations, who 430 LABOURS OF LOVE. have hitherto been the principal almoners of charity in the district, and would not relish being reduced to the rank of influential members of a general committee. It is by no means unnatural that they should at first be loth to give up the amount of gratification which they may quite righteously experience in being the recog- nised dispensers of charitable trust-money and the alms of their congregations. Then again local charities, now almost unknown and in the hands of different persons who contrive to keep them particularly snug, would be brought forward, and people would be asking for ac- counts. The return-paper only asks for particulars of unendowed charities ; but once let a system of genuine inquiry and information be set on foot, and we shall have people asking about the old ^foundations,’ and wondering what becomes of. the money derived from landed property, which has increased in value tenfold since the interest of it was bequeathed to ^ support four or five aged persons,’ or to maintain and educate half-a- dozen children. The great danger in writing about the abuses of charitable trusts is that with some people such dis- closures tend to paralyse their sympathies, and to cause them to hold back from the blessedness of giving. It should not be so. Better even that a few unworthy should be fed and clothed than that a multitude of the suffering poor should be naked and destitute ; but best of all, that our benevolence should be discriminating as well as free, orderly and generous at the same time. It cannot be doubted that in many instances the THE DIFFICULTY. 431 clerical claims to wliich I liave referred now retard, if they will not ultimately succeed in preventing, the organisa- tion which will alone be successful in carrying out a true scheme of charity for the whole of London. A conference of ministers of various denominations was convened by the President and Court of Governors of Sion College in the latter part of last year, and Mr. Goschen then explained the position of the Poor-law Board in relation to relief, and commented on the ob- vious advantages of a system of concerted action and mutual information between the guardians and the charity committee. This, however, presents a new difficulty; for those who are at present most engaged in administering charitable relief in some districts object to make known the particulars of that relief to the guar- dians, suspecting (and not on any very insufficient grounds) that the amount would at once be assessed with a view to reduce the amount of parochial assist- ance, and so to lower the general rate at the expense of those who were willing to contribute to benevolent objects. This is in fact the difficulty. The system is not calculated to grow by slow degrees ; for when once it starts, in any district where it is all fair and above board, and its provisions are made known, the parochial authorities will at once reduce the rates in proportion to the willingness on the part of the charitably disposed to contribute voluntarily to the funds of the society, and the stingy will profit by the action of the generous. If we reflect for a moment, however, we shall remember that this is already the case to a great extent; and should 432 LABOURS OF LOVE. any such system he boldly adopted — ready-grown, as it were, and with all its provisions made entirely public — the absence of the names of the meaner part of the pub- lic from the charity-lists would be a sufi&cient stimulus to convert them into voluntary subscribers. Now it may have occurred to the reader who has considered the claims of the Association for the Organi- sation of Charity, that there is* one defect which will operate, like the inequality of the poor-rate, upon the very neighbourhoods where there is the greatest amount of distress — that is to say, if each district supports its own charitable - relief funds, the many people in the more poverty-stricken localities will still be at famine- point, because there will not be such a proportion of wealthy inhabitants as can contribute the neces- sary funds for their relief when the poor-law aid is reduced to its absolute minimum. It would seem neces- sary, therefore, that such a central board as I have in- dicated, composed of representative members of all the metropolitan district committees, should have a large fund with which to supply such deficiencies. This is another .difficulty, and though it would-be better even to go on doing the best we can in separate districts, than to create a new charitable body that might relapse into inertia from despair of pleasing all parties, it is a diffi- culty that we should set ourselves to overcome. The Society for the Eelief of Distress is, in fact, such a body, but with the power of appor- tioning all the funds subscribed to it, for the purpose of LOCAL ALMONER. 433 affording relief in the various districts of London. The office of this society (whose motto is ^ Bis dat qui cito daf) is at 28 King-street, St. James’s, and its objects are to appoint accredited almoners in the different loca- lities of the metropolis to distribute such relief as can be afforded from the grant allowed them by the insti- tution. Unfortunately the contributions and donations on which this society is dependent were only 2,826Z. for the last official year, or not much more than half the amount contributed in the year previous, though it may be hoped that the present official year, now nearly closed, will offer a more cheering balance-sheet. The amounts granted to eighty-eight almoners — gentlemen residing in thirty-seven districts — vary from 2001. in St. Pancras to 51. in Finsbury, the average be- ing from 251. to 40L ; and the mode of relief recom- mended so nearly resembles that of the proposed district organisation that, until some definite action be taken to establish a more general and complete local system, it would be encouraging to know that this association met with more liberal recognition. The almoners are appointed periodically from resi- dents in each district, and each almoner is directed, if possible, to place himself in communication with the one whom he is to succeed, and to accompany him round the district. He will, according to his instructions, obtain infor- mation on the following points : ‘ The condition of the local trades ; FF 434 LABOUKS OF LOYE. The operatibns of the poor-law ; The working of the existing charitable agencies. ^He will place himself in communication with the clergymen of the parish, the priests of the Eoman- catholic church, and with the ministers of the other denominations and their several agents ; with the parish doctor, the relieving-officer, the medical men attached to the larger dispensaries, the influential tradespeople, and the police. ^ Should no system of visiting or affording relief exist in the district, he will endeavour to organise machinery for these purposes. ^When relief is to he administered, it should be given in kind, and not, except under peculiar circum- stances, in money ; nor should assistance be afforded towards paying back-rent or burial charges. Hospital tickets and clothes may be obtained on application at the office (28 King-street). ‘When making application to the committee for a fresh grant of money, the accounts of the previous grant and the bills, as vouchers, must accompany the appli- cation ; and, if possible, some information should be furnished of the state of the district, and of the ma- chinery at work for dispensing relief. ‘ The grant awarded should never be exceeded, but when money is needed, an application for a fresh grant should be sent in. ‘ The almoner will strictly adhere to the rule of the society, that relief shall be distributed without refer- ence to creed or nationality.’ YxiLUE OF PUBLISHED ACCOUNTS. 435 There can be no doubt that any extended, or at all events any complete, organisation of charity will involve not only the necessity for a more direct and personal interest in the work of relief, but a public audit of ac- counts, and the issue of a complete statement of income and expenses in every district. How far this may be resisted by established charities will probably depend, not necessarily on the degree of irregularity in their ad- ministration, but on their demand for certain private privileges, because of their claiming to be select charit- able corporations. Such a claim, so expressed, would be damaging to their character and influence ; and though there are many institutions now which do not make known their financial details, the best and most successful charities are those which are desirous of submitting their balance-sheets and account-books to inspection, and of publishing their statements at least once a - year. The practice is commendable, even though it should entail a little extra cost for print- ing ; and I am inclined to believe that it is a very good way of increasing the number of subscribers. At any rate, it must be satisfactory to those who desire to support some definite scheme of benevolence to have a guarantee that nobody is making a good thing out of alms intended for the relief of distress, or the dissemination of truth. As it is, it would appear to be too often the case that certain individuals start benevolent institutions much in the same way that pro- moters get up public companies. Instead of a board of directors, they get together a committee of management; 436 LABOURS OF LOVE. instead of persuading a banking firm they interest a treasurer ; and in place of securing the secretaryship for a small capitalist, who pays handsomely for the situation, they undertake the duties themselves, in a capacity honorary or otherwise, with a tolerable cer- tainty that they will be pretty well remunerated in the long run. Nobody who is acquainted with the inner working of some of the smaller institutions, which make their claims through newspaper advertisements once or twice a-year, can fail to think with painful conviction that the very objects of charity are neglected, and that the whole affair takes the form of a private enterprise — not without some secondary intention of carrying out the wishes of the subscribers, but still with a very dis-- tinct impression that it is nobody’s business to institute close inquiry into receipts and expenditure. A com- mittee is soon got together when once a nucleus of two or three good-natured respectable people is secured ; and as the majority of the members of that committee are men of business, who seldom bestow any time or trouble on the working of the charity, the arrange- ments are left to the almost invariable ^ quorum,’ con- sisting of the easy friends, who, for their part, are con- tent to take the statements of the secretary for granted. It is very difficult, indeed, for any man to remain per- fectly unselfish under such conditions, however pure may have been his original intentions ; and to work with ^ a single eye,’ when no other eye carefully inspects accounts or discriminates between a detailed or a jum- bled balance-sheet, is an effort of virtue to which no so- THINGS TO BE KEMEDIED. 437 called committee ought to subject a secretary. It is not the secretaries alone, however, who are to blame in this matter ; there are institutions where the very members of the committee, conscious of shortcomings, and anxi- ous to avoid both the degradation of an inquiry or the effort that might avert exposure by a complete reform, hush up such unpleasant occurrences as come to their notice, or cease to make any proper visitation to the institution professedly under their control. I speak ad- visedly when I say that there now exist some charitable societies, the working of which would, if made known, arouse so much indignation, that public benevolence itself would be for a moment retarded by its revelation. I am happily aware that the instances are not nu- merous ; but there are others wdiose true efficiency is constantly marred by the private interests that they are made to serve ; and there are few, indeed, where a thorough revision of the methods of operation, and, above all, an open and complete declaration of their financial position, would not tend to increase their means of usefulness. It is time, however, that I should refer to a subject which is just now receiving the utmost attention, al- though I cannot see that the class for whom philan- thropy has professed to provide have at present derived any substantial benefit from its consideration. Before we can hope effectually to remedy the social condition of some of the most miserable and destitute among our neighbours, it is absolutely essential that they should be provided with the ordinary means of decency 438 LABOURS OF LOVE. and cleanliness in their dwellings, and that these dwell- ings themselves should he such as human beings might be permitted to occupy. There is an Act of Parliament the provisions of which, if carried out, would at once insure such a reformation in London interiors that half the preliminary work of ^ elevating the masses’ would be done, so that there might be a better hope of godliness following the cleanliness that is said to be next to it. But while local authorities preserve their vested in- terests, by themselves electing ‘inspectors’ who keep things pleasant, and while district surveyors pass by on the other side when a guardian’s profitable hovels need re-whitening, and fever rages in the foul dens that bring in a pretty penny to their owners, — We may look in vain for its enforcement. Let Tis take a walk down Bethnal-green, for instance, on a Sunday morning; not because Bethnal-green is the only, or even the very worst, example of a district where foul dwellings remain, long after their abomina- tions have been made public, but because it is a place about which we have recently heard a good deal in reference to Sabbath desecration, and Sunday morning will be a favourable time for paying it a visit. Nobody who thoroughly understands the conditions of the neighbourhood and of the people who live in it can hope that Sabbath desecration will be at an end there, even with the efforts of the two or three con- stables who march up and down from Church-street to the corner by the Mission-house. The cause of the Sabbath desecration lies not in Club-row, not in the FOUL HOMES. 439 Bird Fair, but in the hopeless weariness of soul, the blank indifference that comes after a week of little work, perhaps, but also of little food; the self-neglect and deadness of spirit brought about by foul homes and streets where the means of common cleanliness and common decency are Avanting. In all the marks of decay, of dirt, and of discomfort, these turnings, leading one into the other at confusing angles, and yet not extending far as to area, are so much alike, that you wonder how a man can know his own house. The street-doors are open, or merely closed by a latch, which can be lifted by pulling a string ; and, as it has often been found to the interest of landlords to turn one dwelling into two, it frequently happens that a stranger going in finds himself immediately stumbling up a flight of broken stairs, without the intervention of an entry or a passage. There are openings here and there that look like passages leading to a side entrance, and they are so narrow that a very stout man might find it necessary to go in edgewise. If you don’t mind mud, and can endure that fetid odour which seems to come in a faint gust as you enter, you will see that lower deep which exists even in the depth of such misery as that of Bethnal-green, or, as we may possibly be just over a disputed boundary, Ave will say Shoreditch. It is Avorth looking at, although it may shock every sense and cause us to Vv^onder — not that men and women living in such a place should be indifferent, hopeless, lost to some of the best influences that ele- 440 LABOURS OF LOVE. vate liuman nature ; but that they should remain human, should even be susceptible to sympathy. Stand here and think for a moment of the two police - constables engaged to put down the Sabbath desecration in Club - row, not two hundred yards off, while man’s whole nature is desecrated, his body made of immeasurably less account than that of horse or hound, in the filthy hovels where his wife starves and his children sicken and die. For this narrow passage leads to wdiat were once the yards of two or three of the half - ruined houses in the larger street ; houses teeming with lodgers from garret to cellar; and on these yards, forming a foul haunt of typhus, is built a row of hovels, so dark within, so rotten without, so full of evil influence, that it would be a flattery to call them sties. In a muddy corner of the space on which they stand (for there is no outlet) a feeble stream of water is running from a* stand-pipe near the wall, for it is Sunday morning, and the precious liquid is turned-on for an hour or so that the tenants of this dreadful place may fill such vessels as they have, and after setting aside enough to last them for drink till to-morrow noon, take the residue — a pailful among half-a-dozen, it may be — to wash themselves and clean their houses. The houses are past cleaning long ago. Nothing but fire could purge them ; and the people — well, there stand two or three of them ; little people, of from four to seven years old, who have come out to stare at us with their poor pinched faded faces, in which (so little THE DENS OF LONDON. 441 can men do to destroy tlie work of God) there is a childish grace beyond the power of dirt, and hunger, and disease entirely to obliterate. There are no women about, though one slatternly wench is filling a broken tea-kettle at the feeble spout ; we shall see the women presently in Poverty Market, where they go to eke out the few pence that are to buy their Sunday dinner. But what must be their daily life in such a place ? Where can there be any approach to proper decency ? There is the dustbin in that other frouzy corner, and adjoining it are the common conveniences of the four or five houses, close to the front-doors. It is shocking to speak of such things. Very ! Fastidious gentlemen on boards and committees are horrified at the notion of making them a subject of conversation. Less fastidious officials at parochial meetings have declared them to be newspaper fictions. .And all the time that the church-bells are pealing, and we are wondering why the poor do not go to join in the responses, and call themselves ^miserable sinners,’ this foul den, which is but a sample of the ‘ homes’ to be found in a London neighbourhood, is poisoning the air, and keeping out the light, and standing as a monument of shame to our high professions — a stone of reproach to our boasted civilisation. The Model Lodger. It is greatly to be regretted, that half-a-million of money left by the great American philanthropist for pro- viding improved dwellings for the poor should be used 442 LABOURS OF LOVE. for tlie purpose of adding to the conveniences of the comparatively well-to-do. This is strong language, hut I use the words ad- visedly. The construction of huge blocks of building, the rooms in which are charged for at a rental which will return a percentage, has not been a successful method of ameliorating the condition of that class for which they are professedly provided. Doubtless this way of spend- ing money is a very good plan for the encouragement of philanthropic architects and contractors : it may even be a desirable means of enabling a certain class of steady and moderately well-employed artisans working at shops and manufactories to obtain apartments in a large build- ing fitted with modern scientific appliances for the common advantage of a score of families; and in this relation a model lodging-house may be shown to pay as a philanthro-benevolent investment, because the rents charged are within the means of the craftsman earning fair weekly wages. But in what sense can any of the existing blocks of building be said to ameliorate the con- dition of the poor — that is to say, of the class who find it a difficult matter to pay rent for two rooms, and, be- cause ‘beggars must not be choosers,’ are obliged to put up with the wretched tenements that characterise the ‘ low neighbourhoods’ ? The kindly gracious lady whose name is in London almost synonymous with bounty has provided ‘ dwell- ings’ which may be taken as the most encouraging ex- amples of this kind of effort ; but if Miss Burdett Coutts herself were really to institute a strict inquiry, she would THE BEAL WANT. 443 find that the ^ model lodging-house’ is just above and beyond the very people for whose especial benefit it seemed to be first intended. It is, in fact, a subject for deep regret that the wide-spread sympathies of this amiable benefactress should have taken the architectural form. The necessity for improved dwellings for the labour- ing classes can scarcely be overstated ; the misery en- tailed on thousands of men, women, and children by the very existence of some of the vile places in which they live is being constantly brought bbfore the public ; but at present the only effort made towards meeting the want seems to be the erection of vast costly edifices, in a style of building composed of the union workhouse and barrack orders of architecture, for gathering a large num- * her of families under one roof. Unfortunately, too, there is something in the very character of the English poor which prevents their ap- preciating this sort of community. As they look at the rectangular passages leading to the various sets of rooms which stand right and left of the trim ^ cut-brick’ walls, they feel a sense of gloom and depression, and whisper in each other’s ears, ‘Why, one might a’most as well go into the house;' by which they mean the union work- house. This impression is scarcely dissipated by inspecting the common bath-room, or the wonderful engineering appliances, all of which are so far above the asso- ciations of ordinary ideas of domesticity, that the former occupant of a four-roomed cottage is almost appalled to 444 LABOURS OF LOVE. think that they are all intended for his advantage — for his, in conjunction with a hundred and thirty other people within the same high solid walls. By the time he comes to the rules and regulations by which tenants are expected to abide, although they are no more stringent than most householders would think necessary for the maintenance of order, his heart sinks a little ; and when he has got down to the porter’s lodge again, and looks up at the pile of brick and stone from the outside, he rather thinks he’ll wait a hit before he makes up his mind to become an inmate, even if he can scrape together the extra rental that he will have to pay for the privilege. For, after all, this is the difficulty that is most to the purpose. That the poorer classes of the inhabitants of the metropolis should prefer ‘ a place they can call their own,’ where they can ‘ go in and out without its being anybody’s business,’ is a small matter, perhaps. Their inclinations must yield somewhat to the neces- sity by which all are hound who take up their residence in great cities ; and it is not to he permitted that whole neighbourhoods of foul and festering hovels should be sustained only because of their dislike to cooperative movements. When, however, it is discovered that the cost of the vast establishments intended for their benefit is so great as to render it necessary to transfer their advantages to the class just above them, who can afford to pay the rent, it becomes a grave question whether architectural benevolence has not been developed in a wrong direction. ENGLISH HOME FEELING. 445 If ever a regard for providing dwellings for the really poor — those who now fill the wretched hut pro- fitable tenements in low neighbourhoods, as tenants of single rooms — should lead to definite action, it may probably take the form of building, wherever space can be had at a moderate price, plain ordinary dwellings, so substantial as to last a century or so, but large enough only for four families ; the rooms lime-whited, and with plenty of window-space ; the water-supply am- ple, and the fittings calculated for everyday use. If on a large area a square of such houses were erected, with baths and laundry as a supplementary building, and a central open space for recreation of children, they might meet the difficulty ; and when once railway companies kept to the bargain of providing workmen’s trains, such dwellings would pay the cost of repairs and maintenance, as well as insurance and a reserve fund for a centenary rebuilding. For it cannot be denied, that while as ^ dwellings’ many of the model buildings offer advan- tages that are almost confined to themselves; of ‘homes,’ as the lower class and the middle class of English people understand the word, they can scarcely be considered an example. The very community of certain conveniences, such as lavatories, baths, laundries, drying-floors, and other domestic requirements, while they add greatly to the real comfort, take away from the accepted sentiment of English home life. It is absurd, no doubt, that people who for the most part live in houses where they rent one or two rooms, should be fastidious, and object to live in a large building, where from 446 LABOURS OF LOVE. a broad stone staircase scrupulously clean they enter their two or three apartments, with walls and ceiling in j)erfect repair, with a proper oven - and - boiler range to the little common living-room, and windows that will open freely to let in the air, and a bath for their use at the end of the corridor, and a laundry at the top of the house, and a drying -room on the roof, and a square for the children, and a doorkeeper, and a great shute for dust from top to bottom of the place, and a rent which averages very little more than must be paid for sordid lodgings in the foul neighbourhood close by. Well, it is absurd — granted. But let it be remem- bered that even these people have their ideals, and that their secret innermost cherished notion of ^ home’ is represented neither by the ^ model dwelling,’ nor by the ^two-pair;’ it takes the form of a little place with four rooms and a kitchen, a strip of garden somewhere at the back, with perhaps an arbour covered with Virginia creeper, with space to smoke a pipe, and contemplate the ^ missis’ doing her bit of ironing in the back washhouse. It involves the old maxim, that an Englishman’s house is his castle; that if a man chooses to shut his street- door, he is monarch of all he surveys within the four walls ; and that if he likes to go out and put the key of that street-door in his pocket, he can do so without fear or favour, except in relation to outside depredators, who run the risk of paying a heavy penalty for housebreaking. Those who have been through the model dwellings as visitors must, if they were accurate observers of the manners of the lower classes, have been struck no less THE DEPRESSED TENANTS. 447 by the peculiarly quiet and wistful — not to say depressed — air of sonde of the better class of lodgers, than by the evident gratification with which the officials allude to the respectability of the tenants. Now, it is of no use to conceal the fact that these wistful — not to say depressed — people will gradually become quite uneasy, and after a few weeks, or at most three or four months, will give notice to quit, driven from the place in spite of all its acknowledged advantages by sheer ennui, almost by a kind of reasonless aversion to its regularity and completeness, and, above all, by the want of personality about the building and its arrangements. The respectable class — those who enter upon a term of tenancy and become engrafted on the place — are very few by comparison, and they are mostly hard-headed men, who fully recognise the value of a dwelling near the place where they go to work. To be able to dine at home and return to a late tea, and thereby avoid the dangerous allurements of the public -house, and the scarcely less dangerous attractions of the debating cof- fee-house, is worth some sacrifice ; and so these men put away from them the longing for that home which they still remotely hope will be theirs one day — the four rooms and the washhouse and the bit of garden. As to the wistful — not to say depressed — tenants who go away after a month or two of trial, they drift into some place in the neighbourhood — many degrees dirtier, less comfortable, and less reputable than the place from which they have pined to be free. They have had a certain kind of dread hanging over them all 448 LABOUES OF LOVE. the time that they have been trying to be respectable — the absurd, indefensible, utterly foolish depression as- sociated with the corridors, the walls of spotless brick or plaster, the grim substantial staircase, the unity of pattern and design, the bigness, and, above all, the com- munity in the vast building, where they have seemed — still absurdly and indefensibly — to lose individuality, and to have such grains of self-respect as they may have' gathered sowed for a kind of general harvest for some- body else to reap. As to the lower class still — those wiio most need the help afforded by the provision of decent dwellings — they can have none of it ; the model buildings are to them too full of suggestions of the union and the gaol, and the rents are altogether above their means — for they live whole families in one miserable room in those houses from which the landlords . of properties in low neighbourhoods make so good an income ; and if they get away from there at all, it is mostly after that pro- cess which is described as breaking up their home, when the family is separated, and the workhouse wards re- ceive its various members, thenceforward representative units in the great sum of pauperdom. Missions. Let them say what they may about the occasional in- consistencies of religious associations, and the tendency to proselytise with which the very benefactions of some of them are associated, the so-called philosophers and se- HOME MISSIONS. 449 cularists, the enthusiasts of humanity,, and the worship- pers of intellect would, as a body, leave the sick un- healed, the dead unrestored to life, and the poor without any Gospel that would include them all in the glory of the children of God. It is to associations which have their mainspring in religious faith, their maintaining power in religious duty, that we must always look for the needed help ; for without that faith, and the love that comes of it, there is neither impulse nor sanction. And the evidences that the religious spirit is undebased by something that is only another form of selfishness will be seen by the extension of the benefits of such an association to all who are in need. The very key-note of Christianity is ^ to all men and whenever relief of physical needs is offered with one hand, on the condi- tion that a set of doctrines, a creed, a certain profession of faith shall be accepted from the other, the light of true religion is beclouded with the vain traditions of men. If our religion will not lead us to help our bro- ther except by a temptation to hypocrisy, if our love cannot regard him as an object of compassion and sym- pathy, whatever may be his professed opinions or misbe- liefs, how can it commend itself to him ? At all events, he may readily learn that it is not the religion of Christ, and will be justified in telling us we lie when we name and call ourselves Christians. However, there have been many false representations on this subject ; and the most successful of those so- cieties which are now formed in most of our poverty- stricken districts for the relief of distress are religious GO 450 LABOURS OF LOVE. in their foundation and their character, without exact- ing any pledge whatever from those whose necessities they seek to relieve. They have religious services, and means of public worship and instruction, among their agencies ; but their secular work is mainly carried on amidst those to whom, by relieving, they hope to bring, first increased temporal comfort, and following that, the happiness which they themselves have found to consist in the spiritual freedom which is eternal life. It is most desirable, however, that the clergy, as such, should have no more direct and personal influence in dispensing the funds of charitable organisations than any other of their members who are as well acquainted with the needs of the district ; and it is equally de- sirable that such associations should carefully avoid what is now the great tendency in certain societies — the fostering of a mischievous sensational exhibition of remarkable converts. Unfortunately, now that this last excitement has been made so prominent, exploring ^ special reporters’ may try to continue the series. Two or three years ago they announced the wonderful discovery of the ^ Sunday Bird Fair,’ and spoke of it as though it had hitherto been unknown to the majority of Londoners. Now that they have begun to penetrate transpontine London, we may see following the accounts of the Converted Burglar some of the other celebrities in connection with ^ Gospel Hall,’ such as ^ The One-Eyed Costermonger,’ ^ The Publican’s Jester,’ ^ The Haddock Smoker,’ ‘ The Scold- ing Wife,’ and ^ The Drunken Brute ;’ all whose con- AGENCIES AT WORK. 451 versions have been set forth in print as well as on the platform, and any of whom, especially the last of the list, might possibly claim popularity on similar ground to that occupied by the promoter of ‘ thieves’ suppers.’ But this is only an exceptional parenthesis, having no reference to other missions in various districts. Combining as they do, and as I have endeavoured to indicate, a complete organisation of charity both for the varied needs of destitute adults and for neglected chil- dren, they have different agencies for carrying out their objects, one of the principal of them being a system of house-to-house visitation, carried on frequently by those who volunteer for the work, but constantly by the mis- sion-women, who report cases of distress requiring relief, to the committee, and procure some immediate help for those who are ready to perish. Even in Old Castle-street, at the back of Shoreditch Church, and so close to that foul neighbourhood of which I have so lately spoken, the Bethnal-green Mission is doing its useful and loving work, and has just contrived to build a new and com- fortable schoolroom and mission-hall, in which 280 very poor children are receiving daily instruction ; besides this, evening classes are held for elder scholars ; and a Band of Hope meeting, in connection with which a boys’ drum-and-fife band is in training. Open-air meetings are held, and evangelistic services conducted on Wed- nesday and Sunday evenings. For the supply of money this institution is entirely dependent on voluntary con- tributions, and needs for the present year 1501. to pay the timber merchant’s account, who kindly supplied 452 LABOURS OF LOYE. materials for the new building till the funds should be in hand ; lOOZ. more to provide comfortable seats and repairs, and furnish seven additional rooms, which are intended to be used as a home for training poor girls for domestic service, who will be received as the funds are supplied for the purpose. The current expenses have to be met, and the committee hope to be enabled to raise the sum of 1,200Z. to purchase the copyhold of the pre- mises ; in prospect of which Mr. Charles Eeed, M.P., Mr. Jonathan Grubb of Sudbury, and Mr. J. McCall of Houndsditch, have consented to act as trustees. Mr. William Jarvis, 2 Derby-road, Victoria-park-road, is the secretary or superintendent. The beneficial result of the employment of mission- women devoted to this Labour of Love among the poor is exemplified by the successful efforts of The Parochial Mission-Women’s Association, a society which gives little or nothing away in charity, its avowed object being to help the poor by teaching them how they may best help themselves. Each mis- sion costs about 30Z. a-year ; and as any clergyman may write to the society for its aid if his district re- quires a mission, and he is partially responsible for meeting its expenses, there are no more than are actu- ally needed. In a recent letter to the Times, Lord Hatherley (whose experience in connection with charitable institu- tions is a guarantee for his judicious advocacy) de- scribes the operation of these missions. He says : THE MISSION-WOMEN. 453 ^ The organisation is very simple. A small body of lady managers” overlook the whole work. To them any clergyman desiring to establish a mission in his parish applies, and guarantees a portion of the cost, which averages' 30i. a-year for each mission. He selects, subject to the approval of die managers, his own mis- sion-woman and a lady superintendent” of her labours among the lowest and poorest. A room is hired (or appropriated if he have a suitable one at his disposal), in which such poor women as are able to attend meet the lady superintendent at least once a-week, and enjoy a little cheerful reading under circumstances of, to them, unusual comfort, and may select and work on the articles for which they have made weekly payments to the mission- woman at her visits to their own homes. Many have first been taught to work at these meetings. The clergyman usually commences or closes them with a short service and prayer, and has the opportunity of meeting many of his poorest parishioners assembled together. The managers visit them from time to time without notice. ^ The mission-woman is selected from a class little,, if at all, above that in which she works. She is ac~ quainted with the struggles and temptations of poverty, and meets the poor on their own level, observes their wants, shows by example and precept the value of de- cency and cleanliness, and the vice of waste; how to make their poor homes more comfortable, how best to economise their scanty means, how better to nurse their sick. She may make about a hundred visits in a 454 LABOURS OF LOVE. week, collecting such money as can be saved, which she delivers to her lad^ superintendent. Though she dis- tributes no direct relief, it is her duty to make known to the clergyman any cases of extreme or special dis- tress, and under his directions to carry out food, make beef-tea, &c., or perform any like kindly office. ‘ It may be said, why should not all this be done by any clergyman independently of an organised asso- ciation ? ^ The answer is best supplied by the fact, that at least 130 districts have already been found to avail them- selves of a machinery by which over 7,000L has been collected among the poor in one year. The* distinctive character of the w^ork is best retained by being in the hands of a central body, who, having originated the scheme, and having considerable experience of its de- tails, are best able to check the inevitable tendency of all agencies to degenerate into formality ; and it is ob- vious that the clergy of districts most needing mission- women would be least able to maintain them without the assistance of a society. Constant communication and friendly social intercourse is kept up between the managers and superintendents. An annual week-day service, in a church kindly opened for the purpose, gives to all conifected in the work an opportunity of meeting together. An annual treat (if possible, in the country) is given to the mission- women. Thus continual life is kept up in the whole body. The managers are assisted in any matter of difficulty by a gentlemen’s committee of reference. THE MACHINERY. 455 ‘ Instead of distributing alms, this association has through its agency collected during the last year be- tween 7,000i. and 8,000L in about 130 of the poorest districts, mainly in the east and south of London. This amount has been made up principally in pence, some- times in farthings, and represents the value of articles of clothing, bedding, and useful furniture, besides Bibles and Prayer-books, which have been supplied to the de- positors at cost price, without any bonus.’ The treasurer of this institution is the Hon. W. C. Spring Eice, and the office is at 15 Cockspur-street. CHAPTEE IV. THE SAD, THE SICK, AND THE HELPLESS. Fainting hy the Way — Alone in the Great City — An open Door and a helping Hand — The House of Cha- rity — Cast Loose in London — A Holdfast and a Home — The Sick — A great Conservatory — Bloom- ing afresh — Fading aivay. In some previous pages I have referred to that genteel poverty which suffers and gives no sign. The sufferers who hide their necessities and bear up bravely against misfortune are those who can seldom he reached by the charitable efforts which attract most attention ; and yet their condition should awaken our deepest sympathy ; their claims (if they made any) meet with our earnest and immediate response. It may be argued — and I will not here dispute the position — that any direct offer to alleviate such difficulties as are thus endured in secret would, even if it were accepted, be impolitic, and perhaps demoralising. Let this be granted, and we have yet to take into account cases where poverty is followed by destitution, or where, by some sudden ca- lamity — by sickness, the loss of friends, or the failure of employment — those who feel an application for alms, or ALONE IN THE CROWD. 457 even for food and shelter, to be a degradation to which they will not willingly submit, look in vain for such temporary help as might enable them to begin anew the struggle in which they have been beaten down. Surely among London’s terrible sights we may in- clude the large number of men and women who wander faint and weary in its streets, wondering where, without loss of that self-respect which is almost all they have left of their past estate, they may find even such food and shelter as would be provided by the nearest casual ward, but without its degradation ; or in the night re- fuge, but without having to share it with those who claim it on grounds which they cannot bring themselves to acknowledge. We do not see this sight, for the sufferers are sepa- rated by their very misfortunes. One by one they pass along the Great City’s highways, fearing the light even more than the shadow ; yearning for friendly companion- ship, but yet escaping observation ; thinking how in all that vast moving crowd they are alone with sorrow and disappointment, and, sick with bewilderment and despair, envying the very beggars who whine to them for the alms that would save themselves from gnawing hunger. > Now in all this vast London of ours — with its pa- laces and churches, its hospitals and refuges, its asy- lums and prisons, its long lines of splendid buildings, its dreary mazes of filthy hovels — I know of but one house the door of which will open to the touch of such trembling hands, but one hearth where such weary 458 LABOURS OF LOVE. feet may rest, but one home where such claims will meet with the response they most need. The House of Charity is surely so named in the scriptural sense of that last word in its title ; for there is no reminder there that its inmates are to forfeit their claim to respect in return for alms. Plain in its simple comfort, and with a quiet order in its family arrangements that must make it a blessed retreat for the sorrowful, a calm resting-place for the harassed, it is all that its name implies, and more ; for it belongs not only to the charity that giveth of its goods to feed the poor, but to that which ‘ thinketh no evil.’ It is a fine old house, standing at No. 1 Greek-street, Soho, and has certain historical associations belonging to it; for it was the town mansion of the celebrated Aider- man Beckford, and still exhibits some of the decorations of ceiling and chimneypiece, and the breadth and ample space of staircase and passage, which distinguished the buildings of that time. By the way, it is interesting to know that the carved mantel and its supports, formerly belonging to the apartment that is now the committee- room, were so fine an example of decorative art, that the promoters of the present charity obtained a hand- some sum for them when they were sold for the benefit of the good work undertaken there. The Archbishop of Canterbury is the patron of this institution ; the Lord Bishop of London its visitor ; IN THE HOUSE. 459 and its resident warden is the Kev. J. C. Chambers, the vicar of St. Mary, Soho, whose name has been al- ready mentioned in connection with the work going on at the Newport-Market Eefuge. Indeed, this house is one of the numerous distinct but yet associated chari- ties which are established in that great neighbourhood of St. Mary and St. Andrew, Soho ; and many of its committee are active supporters of the other institutions in the district. In the lower part of the house there are two large rooms on opposite sides of the hall, well warmed and lighted, and used as sitting-rooms, one for male, the other for female inmates. They are supplied with hooks and newspapers ; the latter in order that those in search of situations may see the advertisements ; while the women are partially employed in making or mending their clothes, or in such needlework as may be given to the three or four more permanent residents. The large room used as a refectory is plainly furnished, the men sitting at one table, the women at another ; and the quantity and description of the food is such as would he provided in a respectable family : tea or coffee, and good bread-and-butter, morning and evening ; meat and vegetables for dinner ; and a supper of bread-and- cheese. There is no limit as to quantity ; and if one could forget the distress which brings them thither, one might regard the family as employ h of some well-or- dered establishment, with good plain meals, and a club- room on each side for meeting in after business-hours. The dormitories, which occupy the upper floors of the two wings, are admirably contrived to secure that priv- 460 LABOURS OF LOVE. acy the want of which would be so repulsive a feature to persons of superior condition. Each long and lofty room is divided into a series of enclosures, or cabins, by substantial partitions of about eight feet in height ; and in each of these separate rooms, all of which are lighted from several windows, or by the gas-branches in the main apartment, there is a neat comfortable bed and bedstead, with space for a seat or a box, and a small table or shelf. Between thirty and forty persons can he received here at one time ; and those who are in search of employment, or who require to go out during the day, leave after breakfast, and return either to din- ner or to tea. For a fortnight, or in many exceptional cases for a more extended time, the House of Charity becomes the home of those who, but for its aid, must apparently sink lower and lower, till they become not only utterly destitute, but in danger of being deeply degraded and even vicious. Here they find helping hands and judicious advice, as well as ready sympathy, and numbers of them are directed to situations ; while the sick are placed in hospitals, or allowed to remain in the home, and attend as out-patients until admission can be found for them. The poor women especially — many of whom are ladies by previous position and education — ^find it a refuge indeed, and learn that the sister who has charge of the whole household arrangements, as well as those who have more definite duties in relation to the female inmates themselves, and the rather arduous correspondence, ac- counts, and inquiries, may be appealed to with an assur- THE CHAPEL. 461 ance of hearty sympathy. On part of the open area at the hack of the building a chapel has recently been erected, where the warden himself officiates at morning and even- ing prayer ; and it may well he believed that to many of those weary souls this sacred spot, with its pretty cathe- dral-like ornaments, its stained glass, and the sugges- tion of quiet and repose in its subdued light, may repre- sent the retracement of the steps that have ended so disastrously, and yet so blessedly ; and may, in some sense, he associated with that outcome into renewed life for which their presence in the institution gives them reason to hope. Standing within this building, however, I notice certain small blank unfinished spaces on the walls, and amidst the general appearance of completeness, an incompleteness not obvious at the first glance. I am pleased to learn, in explanation of this, that only the special contributions to the chapel fund are spent here, and that no more is done at the time than there is money to pay for ; so that for the actual completion of details, and the addition (greatly needed) of a co- vered way from the house to the church-porch, funds are patiently awaited. When I speak of the necessity for a covered way, it reminds me that many of the inmates come here sick as well as sad. To-night, in a warm and comfortable workroom near the dormitory — a room that is used, I think, as a kind of day-nursery for such children as are admitted — there are two young women sewing at a table, where they have just been supplied with tea and 462 LABOURS OF LOVE. bread-and-butter. One of them is suffering from a con- sumptive cough ; the other is an out-patient at a hos- pital for disease of the hip, and has to wear an instru- ment until she can be admitted as a regular case. It may be mentioned that the expenditure is frequently increased because of the infirm condition of many of the female inmates, who not only require more comforts and special food, but whose inability to do the work of the house entails the necessity of employing paid substi- tutes. This fact accounts for a large number of cases sent to hospitals and convalescent homes. Clothing is also an item of expense ; and the committee very ear- nestly appeals for gifts of apparel, either new or old, since without such aid many of the inmates cannot procure situations. Would you know who these inmates are? The case-book would reveal a series of affecting stories ; for in it are the plain statements — needing no touches of art to make them painfully interesting — of ladies, wives of professional men, brought to sudden widow- hood and poverty; of men of education cast adrift by failure or sickness, and not knowing where to seek their bread ; of children left destitute or deserted ; of women removed from persecution, and girls from the tainted atmosphere of vice ; of weary wanderers, who, in de- spair of finding such a shelter, have spent nights in the parks ; of foreigners stranded on the shore of a strange city; of ministers of the Gospel brought low; of servant- girls defrauded of their wages, or discharged almost penniless, and cast loose in the giddy whirl of London streets. RESULTS. 463 It is not alone for its temporary aid in affording a home that this most admirable House of Charity is dis- tinguished ; but it affords a good hope also by seeking situations in cases where peculiar circumstances make such a search difficult — for bereaved and impoverished ladies, for educated men, as well as for domestic and superior servants. Its supporters give this aid also to the work; and as they number amongst them many ladies and gentlemen of social influence, employment is frequently discovered for those whose misfortunes would otherwise be almost irretrievable. Of 225 men, 351 women, and 79 children who came before the warden and council, and were admitted dur- ing the last official year, 243 were provided for more or less permanently; 110 were sent to homes, orphan- ages, and hospitals ; 83 returned to their homes ; 18 were passing on to homes or places of service, tod stayed here on their way; 12 were emigrants waiting for their ships to sail ; 80 left because of the expiration of the time allowed for their remaining ; 13 left of their own accord; and 21 were dismissed. In the record of the social condition of the inmates, we find 17 tutors, school- masters, and teachers ; 18 governesses and schoolmis- tresses ; 47 clerks, shopmen, and travellers ; 47 men- servants, porters, and pages ; 5 engineers ; 2 engravers ; 1 officer ; 7 soldiers ; 3 sailors ; 7. surgeons, apothe- caries, and chemists ; and most of the rest representing a large number of respectable trades — including 1 ^ planter’ — and some situations, the most remarkable of which was that of ^master of a workhouse.’ Of matrons. 464 LABOUES OF LOVE. housekeepers, and nurses, there were 61 ; of maids-of- all-work, 86 ; and of other servant-maids, 113 ; while of needlewomen there were 20. Of course the daily provision for the family of about thirty is considerable, and the kitchen is in almost con- stant use, while the laundry is scarcely sufficient for the needs of the establishment ; but this regular succession of meals by no means represents the culinary operations of that glorious house. For there is a ‘ sick-kitchen’ to look after ; that is to say, a kitchen adjoining the regular kitchen of the establishment, to which poor applicants from the neighbouring district bring their cloths and basins, and carry away nourishing food to their poorer invalids. At this very moment the soup for to-morrow’s supply — rich in the aroma of meat and savoury veget- ables — is concocting in a huge copper, from which the sister-superintendent will deftly ladle it into basins or jugs, and pass it to anxious recipients waiting at the wicket by the window. And this is not all either, for 300 of the sick and hungry little ones of Soho sit down twice a-week to a sick- children’s dinner -table in the schoolroom of St. Mary, of which our warden is the vicar ; and the cal- drons of stew, as well as the great pots full of mealy potatoes, are all set boiling here at the grand old man- sion in Greek-street. The greater part, if not the entire cost, of these din- ners is defrayed by the contributions of children who are better off in the world ; and send their savings, or a per- centage of them — pence, fourpennypieces, sixpences, and REFUGE FOR DOMESTIC SERVANTS. 465 shillings — to be devoted to this purpose. Indeed, a spe- cial appeal is made to the children of well-doing parents. While I am on this subject, I cannot refrain from mentioning in parenthesis that the committee of that admirable association, the Destitute Children’s Dinners Society, in their third report, state that during the year ending September 30th, 1869, forty dining-rooms were opened in forty of the most impoverished localities of the metropolis ; and 110,803 dinners supplied to the ragged and destitute children attending schools in their respective neighbourhoods. Special attention is invited to the fact, that no less a sum than 317Z. 15s. Ad. was contributed in farthings, halfpence, and pence, by the poor children themselves ; and that the total sum ex- pended from the general fund of the society for the dinners during this period was 1,1801. 10s.; while the working expenses of the society amounted to only 102L 2s. O^d. Among those who receive the benefits of the insti- tution in Greek-street, the large number of domestic servants respresent a class to whom such a refuge is most acceptable and most necessary. It would be well, indeed, if there were other houses of charity for tem- porarily destitute or distressed persons of the better class ; and it would be well also if a larger number of institutions were established for the reception of female servants looking for a situation, or temporarily unem- ployed through sickness. There are several now in operation under the direction of the Female Servants’ Home Society, the office of which is at 85 Queen-street, HH 466 LABOURS OF LOVE. Cheapside. There is another at 132 Walworth-road, forming one of the operations of the South-London Mission ; and there is the Trewint Industrial Home in Mare -street, Hackney, where thirty girls over fifteen years of age are restrained from vice, to which they had been exposed by being without situations. It is the comparatively helpless position of the female servant out of place, and cast loose to find a home for herself, which gives these ^ special institutions such a claim. To what kind of ‘ home’ is a young woman ignorant of London and its ways — or if not entirely ignorant, with a flighty hankering after a little liberty, but with no present intention of improper companion- ship — likely to be introduced ? Say that she takes a lodging with the charwoman, or rents a room with an- other girl of her own class, what is likely to come of it when her remnant of wages is nearly exhausted? Should she be of attractive appearance she is in danger of temptation every time she goes out after dark, and probably even in broad daylight ; for the harpies who waylay her, know how to flatter her vanity or to work upon her fears for their own purpose. While should she come to the end of her money, and even have begun to ^ part with’ a portion of her clothes and her poor little bits of finery, to pay for a lodging and a meal, her ruin probably is imminent. Among the multitude of lost and wretched women who throng our streets, and make (next to its deserted and destitute children) London’s most terrible sight, the ranks that represent domestic servants brought to DANGERS OF LONDON LIFE. 467 the deepest degradation of vice and misery are by far the fullest. The Sick. To attempt any description of visits to the various London hospitals, or to dwell either on such terrible sights as may he seen within their walls, or on the Labours of Love that are exhibited in patient skill or miracles of healing, would require an entire volume. I must leave the whole subject of those noble unendowed establishments for the reception of the sick and the maimed, which are so grandly represented by the London Hospital ; the Metropolitan Free Hospital in Devonshire-square, where no letter of recommendation is required for immediate gratuitous relief ; and King’s College Hospital, where in cases of emergency medical or surgical aid may be obtained at any hour. I can do no more than refer to one other representative institution, which, situated as it is on the edge of the most desti- tute district in London, was established to meet the needs of a class of patients who require just that kind of care which — likening them to so many plants droop- ing for want of vigour, and, alas, too often for want of light and warmth and air — makes its work that of a Great Conservatory, — the Hospital for Diseases of the Chest, Victoria-park. But there is another kind of conservation going on — the complete restoration of those who, having left the hospital ward or the sick room, where medical skill has 468 LABOURS OF LOVE. done its best for them, have yet to cross that shifty ground between convalescence and recovery ; the tem- porary transplanting of those who have only just begun to bloom a-fresh, but whose vital sap as yet flows too feebly to withstand ordinary adverse influences. There are the sick dinner-tables, of which I have already said something ; but even these are not always sufficient to restore those who have been in the shadow of the valley of death. It is to convalescent homes like that established at Woodford by Mrs. Gladstone, that we must look for the completion of the work done in our hospitals for the sick. It was during the time of the last cholera epi- demic, and when the poor patients taken from the in- fected districts to the London Hospital were saved from death only to be sent back to their bare rooms, unable to obtain the food necessary to renew their strength, that this charitable lady first opened the pleasant house at Woodford with thirty beds. All those whose appli- cations were received underwent an examination at the hospital, that no inmates might be accepted who were then suffering from any contagious or infectious disease ; so that it was only a weakly, and not an unhealthy, family assembled in the Forest district to drink -in fresh vigour with the clear air, and to gain strength daily from the nourishing country diet. None but those who have seen the work in progress can estimate what a boon to these poor convalescents is the opportunity of removing, if only for a week or two, from the foul neigh- bourhoods where they would have been in imminent CONVALESCENT HOMES. 469 clanger of a relapse, or of contracting some other dis- ease, the result of half starvation and depressed energy. There is now a branch home at Clapton, where chil- dren especially are received. To w^atch the returning colour, the brightening eyes, the more elastic step, the growing vigour, and to hear the words of grateful thanks in these institutions, would be worth a journey to either; and a visit, if it did not lead to a yearly subscription, would at least be a convincing proof that a contribution would be so well bestowed, as to make it a matter of duty either to work or give on behalf of those who have a double hold upon our sympathies, inasmuch as they are weak from sickness as well as from poverty. As these homes are entirely free, subscriptions and contributions are both needed. The numbers of re- covering patients whose health has been promoted by their short peaceful holiday -time at Woodford Hall represent a very large company of our brethren and sisters ; 1,100 in the first two years, and a larger pro- portion since. The cost per head is not considerable ; so little indeed, considering the results, that to pay for the help of a small family of recovering invalids would be a cheap luxury of benevolence. Lieutenant-Colonel Neville is the honorary secretary, to whom letters may be addressed, either at 11 Carlton-house-terrace or 30 Clarges-street. Then there is the Seaside Hospital at Seaford, with its London office at 8 Charing-cross. This valuable institution has, since its foundation in 1860, given to about 3,000 poor persons recovering from illness the 470 LABOURS OF LOVE. benefits of sea-air, bathing, and nutritious diet. We all know that noble institution, the Eoyal Sea-bathing In- firmary at Margate, where above 800 are in the enjoy- ment of its excellent provisions at one time ; and there have lately been set on foot Cottage Hospitals for those who, suffering from consumption or disease of the chest, require just such a transplantation, even if it be only for a season, as may help to subdue the disorder, if not utterly to extinguish it. There are other institutions, where those who are gathered into one suffering family are not blooming afresh, but fading away. At the Eoyal Hospital for In- curables at Putney-heath, about 380 patients — who, if not in a dying state, are yet by disease, accident, or de- formity unable to fulfil the duties of life — are cared for, and their pain and helplessness assuaged by ministering hands. At the British Home for Incurables at Clap- ham-rise, more than 160 patients afflicted with incur- able disease are either accepted as inmates, or receive a pension of 20Z. a-year for the remainder of their lives. These are not among the terrible sights of London. The sufferings of the poor fading creatures are often very great, their condition pitiable ; but most of them are going gently home — wearing away, if not painlessly, at least with those mitigations that come of kindly help, and sympathy, and the appliances that relieve and miti- gate the severity of disease. A visit to Putney-heath is a sad, but at the same time a cheering excursion ; for most of the patients themselves are not sorrowful ; many of them have learnt to look HOSPITAL ABUSES. 471 Death in the face, and to have found him not the grim messenger, but the pitiful angel. They are not sad, and the sight of them is not terrible, but consoling, joyful, suggestive of the hope that maketh not ashamed, the victory over the last enemy of all — the body that dreads its dissolution. With regard to general hospitals, or those for such diseases as afflict large numbers of patients, it is much to be regretted that two very great abuses have lately demanded a strict inquiry. One is the treatment of so large a number of out-patients, that the weakest and most afflicted applicants have to suffer for the sake of others whose ailments are comparatively trifling, by be- ing compelled to wait for hours without proper rest or food in order to take their turn among a multitude of applicants, who are too often necessarily ^ knocked-off" quite in a routine way by the over-worked practitioner who devotes a large portion of his time to giving this kind of advice, and regrets extremely that he cannot get through his day’s engagements if he stays to discrimi- nate. The other is the abominable meanness of peo- ple who can well afford to pay for competent medical advice, and yet take advantage of the charity of free hospitals for themselves and their children. CHAPTEK V. THE LOWER DEEP. The Fallen — The Depraved — The Criminal — Rescue — Restoration. The Eoad to Euin. Yes, the Eoad to Euin ! Euin in this world almost irretrievable, unless those who go so swiftly downward are arrested long before they reach the dark abyss. For it is more than the road to ruin ; it is the road o/ruin. ^ Euin’ is placarded on its first gateway, that opens on the broad, but foul and pestilent, path along which women, girls, mere children even, are thronging in that death unto death, which, in the language of the destroyer, is called ^ seeing life.’ They who form the crowd are of various aspects. There are some rolling along in hired carriages, looking out with shameless faces and despair- ing eyes upon their wretched sisters, who slouch in faded finery and flaunt the mere rags of fashionable at- tire, as they gaze and wonder, and sometimes envy, with bitter anger in their hearts. They are all equal in the dreadful estimate that has but one name for the victims of animal lust, the votaries of degraded passion. Do any of my readers remember that fearful woodcut AN AWFUL PICTURE. 473 that once appeared in Punch, drawn by the hand of an artist who has since passed from our midst — a picture of two wretched women, one of whom seems to have lost all womanliness, except that which is indicated by her dress; while the other is evidently fast going on the downward journey, with gaunt horror of the gulf that lies at the end staring from her fading face and lurid eyes ? ‘ How long have you been gay, dear ?’ asked the miserable wretch who has drunk the poison to its dregs. It is an awful picture. There is more in it, and in those seven words, in their grim suggestive intensity, than in a dozen essays on ^ the social evil.’ But of what avail are pictures, essays, questions, sermons ? Adown that road, thronged by hundreds of those who were meant to be ministering angels in the world of God, what voice is to be heard that can stay the wdiirl and tumult, or arrest the rush of the crowd hurrying to destruction ? ^ Too far gone to stay now.’ ^ I can’t go back : who would take me ?’ ^ The mother whose heart I broke is in heaven, where I can’t hope to follow her. 0 mother, mother ! that I had died upon your breast when I was born !’ ^ The father, whose harshness first drove me to find a home away from his roof, would sooner see me dead than alive : do you think he’d have me ?’ ^ The master who seduced me while I lived in his house, and waited on his wife and children, is so respectable that he rides past in his chaise, and the mud from his wheels splashes me as I stand aside, and fiercely curse him as he goes.’ ^ The flashy villain who followed me 474 LABOURS OF LOVE. in the streets nightly as I left my work, and at last persuaded me to go with him to the casino, and ruined and left me, knew that there was no law that would compel him to support me or the infant that I slew in my despair.’ ^ The professed seducer, who made me his victim at the expense of a night at Cremorne and a champagne-supper, is a man of fashion, and looks at me with blank unrecognising eyes, or threatens to have me locked up, when I show my gin-bloated face, and raise my voice against him to claim money to buy a meal.’ Even those among us (and they are many) who set out on this journey secretly, hut found no foothold, and so turned into the broad road and joined the crowd that surges downward, cannot stay to listen. The jeering laughter of their destroyers and accomplices in sin drowns the tones of warning. ‘ Do you know that there are mere children among us — children of such tender” years that the law would call them infants ? How do they come hither, think you ? Why, they were bred prostitutes. It’s an ugly word, isn’t it ? Well, they were each the thing that the word means almost before they knew the meaning of the word. Brought up in rooms where men, women, and children herd together at night ; ignorant of what you would call common decency ; debauched as soon as they had learned to speak plainly, and some of them mistresses of young thieves now that they are not more than thirteen years old ; while others are of our sort. And yet none but the very worst of us like even to think what they are : children in years, with the evil CHILD-PROSTITUTES. 475 eyes and dead debauched faces of those who grow quickly old in Vice. Would you see them, and so look upon the devilish work that goes on in this Great City ? It may help to humble your pride, and stop the high- flown eulogium of respectability.” We know what your respectability means. It is having gained enough money to buy all sorts of comforts, to pay the butcher’s and the baker’s bills, and to be able to settle with the tailor and the dressmaker before the year is out, and to be ready for the landlord when he calls, and contribute to the funds of the church where you have a pew. Owe no man anything,” is your motto; and that is not the text that will suit us as you apply it.’ Are these the voices that come from the broad road ? and how much of truth is there in their reproaches ? We dare not deny how much of truth there is in every one of them ; and those who have searched deepest the dread mysteries of London know too well that even in the half-truths they hear, there is enough to make their hearts groan within them. Granted that scores of these wretched abandoned women will tell the same kind of story with little variation. Let us lay this to our con- sciences, that the story is true of others if it be not true of them ; that the seducer is not yet stamped out of being ; the betrayer of the feeble-virtued is as often as dead to shame as the law is calculated to make him indifferent to consequences ; that even the woman who — instead of being deceived, and so having fallen only to be abandoned by the seducer — has flung herself into the pit, and is abandoned only in the sense of having 476 LABOURS OF LOVE. flung away the promise other womanhood, is our sister, for whom Christ died ; that in the byways of the neigh- bourhoods where fashion congregates and wealth dis- plays its treasures there are dens where children who have been taught prostitution lie in wait for those whose perverted manhood is chained to the foul corpse of lust. Is there nothing that can be done — no voice that can pierce the hellish din, the hollow false laughter that it breaks one’s heart to hear ; no word of help and hope that can arrest the profane and filthy jest on lips that writhe and tremble with the torture of memory and conscience ; no hand that can yet drag back even the half - sorrowful, and reclaim the wholly penitent to a life of grace and glory ? I believe that there are all these — I hioiD it, and praise God that such a work may be done; but it needs earnest single-hearted messen- gers, men and women who know when to speak and when to forbear, — prompt, sagacious, sympathetic ; needs the support of those who, relinquishing alike the cant of society and the cant of mere sensational curio- sity, believe that to ^ owe no man anything’ is a pre- cept requiring the highest Christian faith to observe and to fulfil, since it refers to a debt that a man may not fulfil, even though he should pay to the uttermost farthing all legal demands upon him, and yet leave the long arrears of human love and sympathy undischarged by efforts to sustain the weak and the wretched, to rescue the forsaken and the fallen. Those who have had occasion carefully to observe the various aspects of what is called ^ the social evil’ in THE MISCHIEF OF THE MUSIC-HALL. 477 large towns, and especially in London, are unanimous in the opinion that the music-hall is, above almost all others, the institution which most contributes to pros- titution, both by affording opportunities for immoral companionship, and by exhibiting to young women, who are only restrained by a weak sense of virtue, a spec- tacle little likely to impress them with the real misery and degradation of a profligate life. What is the sight nightly witnessed by girls out for an evening’s amusement, who are either members of poor respectable families, or ^ hands’ employed in shops, and milliners’ and dressmakers’ work-rooms, or carry- ing on ill-paid trades, such as trimming and braid manufacturing, artificial flower-making, and others, for which the wages are only just sufficient to provide the daily necessaries of life, leaving luxuries out of the question ? In a great lofty building, ablaze with light, gor- geous with colour and gilding, a crowd of people are sitting drinking, amidst a faint haze of tobacco-smoke. Wine, spirits, ale, seem to be supplied in profusion to those who have the means of paying ; and everybody looks well dressed, the glare of gas making even tawdry finery appear like elegant costumes. In the reserved portions of the ^ balconies’ really well-dressed women and fashionable men lounge with a little more than freedom as they witness the performances on the stage, — performances which would only a short time ago have caused a flush of shame to overspread the face of many who now witness them with indifference, if not with 478 LABOURS OF LOVE. applause. The principal object in many of the repre- sentations on the music-hall stage is obviously to out- rage ordinary decency, for the amusement of those pa- trons whose moral depravity requires constant stimulus ; and the efforts of the managers of these places seem directed to secure the appearance of those actresses or dancing women who have succeeded in divesting them- selves of the last remaining attributes of their sex. Amidst the mist of tobacco-smoke, the heat and glare of gas, the excitement of strong drinks, and the unre- strained license of many of the most prominent visitors, a ballet is enacted, the very intention of which is to extinguish the last spark of that modesty which would render the music-hall a failure, and in order to insure its complete success among its supporters ; — a throng of bold-eyed women, with now and then an accession to their ranks of some girl who comes fallen and degraded to the place, from her first visit to which she has to date the shipwreck of life and honour. Openly, and in defiance of law and morality, the infamous mart is ready to afford the means for prostitution to seek its customers, and vice its victims. At first modesty may turn away its head, and wonder ; then curiously steal a glance, and wonder more how it comes to pass that these women, flaunting, talking, laughing, not only tole- rated, but encouraged, treated, many of them eating rich food and drinking costly wines at their admirers’ ex- pense, should be so harshly spoken of in the world out- side, and yet have such a gay, bright, pleasant world of their own, where they seem to rule, by lack of any- ENGINES OF DESTRUCTION. 479 tiling better or higher with which to compare them. We read daily of raids by the police on houses where the proprietors are fined and punished for harbouring immoral characters ; and yet here, in the same neigh- bourhood, is a great gorgeous edifice devoted to amuse- ments that, to say the very least, destroy all the finer senses of delicacy, and where one of the apparent objects of the management is to provide ample opportunity for the trade of prostitution, with police-officers in attend- ance to prevent any such breach of common decency or order as might injure the attractiveness of the enter- tainment. Note the familiar greetings of the constables and the wretched fiaunting creatures w^ho sweep in at the doorway, and you would wonder indeed at the size of the camel swallowed by these official strainers at an occasional gnat. Listen to the coarse idiotic songs of the ^popular’ music-hall ^ comique.’ Look, if you can, at the twoscore half-naked girls and middle-aged wo- men, all painted and raddled, and with a brassy simper on their weary faces as they skip and prance in obedi- ence to the applause that greets an indecent gesture or an obscene leer ; and then divide your attention between the crowd of jesting, anxious, miserable, scoffing crea- tures, who, indifferent to the last piquant immorality, are drowning reflection in drink, and the evidently un- accustomed visitor, brought thither by a casual male acquaintance, and already with her foot on the first step within the gate leading to ruin’s road. And the evils of the music-halls have made bad worse even at the theatres. The successes of such places 480 LABOUHS OF LOVE. as the Alhambra in Leicester-square (the directors of which declared a dividend of 25 per cent at their last half-yearly meeting) have so touched theatrical mana- gers, that they have been anxious to acquire similar profits even by similar means, and inane dramas, writ- ten only for the purpose of exhibiting vice by means of the vicious, have taken possession of the stage. For some time it appeared imminent that notorious prosti- tution would become the strongest claim to a remunera- tive engagement to appear on the ^ boards’, and that at more than one London theatre no prominent dancer or ‘ leading lady’ in certain pieces would be able to attain that position except by the sacrifice of virtue and the subsequent attraction of her wiles to admirers who be- came habitues of the house where she appeared. The reader will wonder that I should write so freely on such a subject ; hut it is time to speak plainly. No complete good can he effected in earnest efforts to re- claim the fallen, and to lessen the number of degraded women who throng our streets, until the influence of such amusements as pander to prostitution and defy all true sense of decency and morality is exposed and pre- vented. Eescue. The Eeformatory and Eefuge Union, the of&ce of which is at 24 New-street, Spring-gardens, occupies a similar position to industrial schools, homes for girls and women, and reformatories, to that sustained by the Eagged School Union to the institutions which bear its name. FEMALE MISSIONARIES. 481 In connection with this valuable organisation, there are ninety homes in various parts of the country for re- ceiving young women who have fallen from virtue, and are anxious to make an earnest endeavour to enter on an honourable and useful life. All the inmates that have been received, amounting to about 2,700 forlorn creatures, have voluntarily entered the institutions. In order to secure these results, the union has established a Female Mission to the Fallen, consisting of women who go about in the haunts of prostitutes, in order to endeavour to reclaim them. During the past year nine of these missionaries have been at wnrk in various parts of London, and 448 young women have been assisted by the mission, and placed in homes or service, restored to their friends, or otherwise provided for. The whole number of cases .dealt with since the formation of the mission is as follows : Placed in homes, 1,723; placed in service, 489; returned to friends, 198 ; placed in hospitals, 122 ; married, 24 ; died, 3 ; left of their own accord or farther help refused, 162 ; temporarily relieved, 105 ; total, 2,826. With the employment of female missionaries these valuable results have been obtained; and there may come a time when voluntary helpers may be found to take up part of this Labour of Love, and so, by acknow- ledging the sisterhood even of the fallen, bring the first light of redemption to those darkened souls, who see in their banishment from all social claims the deepest degra- dation and the worst despair of their present condition. II 482 LABOUKS OF LOVE. The missionaries go out at about eight o’clock at night, and remain till twelve or one o’clock in the morning ; and part of the day is spent in visiting hos- pitals and workhouses. The parks are also visited; and here the value of the mission as a iweventive agency is apparent. Girls foolishly loiter about until they are entrapped, and fall. The presence of a missionary has, in some cases, pre- vented this. They have also been useful in rescuing those who have not fallen, from the evil influences to which they are exposed at home, and which would in all human probability lead to their ruin. I cannot do better than extract from the report of the secretary of this mission some remarks on the causes that operate to bring so large a number of girls on the streets ; and I may here remark, that it is a common error that any large number of them are persons of education and considerable refinement. Many of them have acquired a superficial correctness of diction ; but any long conversation betrays them, and their elegant attire is not always their own property. They are the slaves of the keepers of brothels, and their silks and satins are a part of the accursed trade to which they have sold themselves. But I will quote from the re- marks already alluded to : ‘ I should say, then, the common opinion that a woman is first betrayed, then deserted and driven to street prostitution, is by no means so general as the universal supposition would make it appear. At the same time, it does frequently take place. Amongst the SOURCES OF RUIN. 483 lower order of unfortunates, their own sex — those who have already fallen — are far more frequently the agents of their ruin. They entice foolish young girls of six- teen or seventeen to remain out at night till past the permitted hour ; then, when frightened to return to their homes, allure them to their dens ^^just for the one night.” But the poor victim, once there, is either talked into ‘Hhe life,” or else, if she resolves to return to her home the next day, finds, when the morning comes, that any place — the streets even are prefer- able ; for, alas, she dare not go home ! The evening before she was guilty of what was comparatively a tri- vial fault; now she is a poor polluted lost creature, despised by others, hateful to herself. ‘ Another, and I think the most fruitful, source of ruin is indolence. Some girls will do anything sooner than work ; and these are the least reclaimable of any. ‘ A third cause is vanity — a love of dress — a thirst for pleasure. I place them together because they are generally united. These, unlike those possessed by indolence, are very often open to reclamation. The poor painted butterfly sickens at its borrowed colours, and longs for the quiet home enjoyments it once pos- sessed, instead of the ceaseless round of dissipation which she knows must end in everlasting misery. ‘ Of course there are many instances arising from innate depravity — a love of drink, loss of character from dishonesty, and suchlike causes, which lead to the sights we nightly witness in our streets. But if our senses are shocked and our ears horrified often by the 484 LABOURS OF LOVE. things we see and hear, our hearts too are wrung by listening to the sad recital of some of these poor wan- derers. How many of them, once innocent happy girls, were driven by dire destitution to pursue the hateful career by which they plunge their souls into everlasting misery, to gain often but the mere crust, which only just saves them from downright starvation ! How many have borne up nobly and long against privation, stitched and stitched on until they could procure the ill-paid work no longer; then, driven to despair, have rushed on to crime, regardless of the consequences; or, if they sometimes think, drown the reflection in the gin- palace ! ‘ Two efforts of a special character deserve to be no- ticed. One is the engagement of a missionary, con- versant with French and German, to labour among the foreign women, who are so numerous in our streets. The field, though large, is not an encouraging one. Many disappointments have been experienced ; but still several have been led to forsake their life of sin and shame, and placed in the way of gaining an honest live- lihood here, or assisted to return to their own country. ‘ The other special department of the work originated at the suggestion of an anonymous friend, who has very liberally contributed to the mission for several years. The desire was to rescue, if possible, some of the fallen who had attempted to commit suicide. The bridges over the river Thames being the places generally chosen, a missionary was appointed to visit those where such acts are usually attempted. Some few cases of pre- MIDNIGHT MEETINGS. 485 vention from self-destruction have occurred, and pro- vision has been made for many who have made the attempt. It is a difficult and discouraging field of labour, requiring much faith and patience, but not on that account to be abandoned.’ Beside the operations of the mission - women sent out to rescue their fallen and wretched sisters, there are other agencies at work; and it may be ex- pected that I should give some account of the pro- ceedings at ‘ midnight-meetings.’ The spectacle at one of these assemblies might be, indeed, included among London’s terrible sights ; and the plan is often success- ful in inducing poor creatures to accept the refuge of one or other of the homes ; but though doubtless much misapprehension exists as to the mode of holding these meetings, and utterly false representations have been given of them, I am by no means sure that they are the best means of effecting permanent good. At any rate, whether from the midnight-meeting, by the quieter efforts of the missionary, by the compassionate remon- strance and appeal of the benevolent stranger, or in the blessed impulse, born of shame and misery, voluntarily to seek some asylum where there is a hope of redemption, — the homes for the fallen and the friendless are noble institutions worthy of earnest and continued support. There are several of them in London, and they form a chain of institutions each ready to receive applicants whenever there is space. Let me briefly refer, first, to one of the oldest of them all, the ^ Guardian,’ and afterwards to the various establishments of that most 486 LABOURS OF LOVE. beneficent association, the ‘ London Female Preventive and Eeformatory Institute.’ The Guardian Society’s asylum occupies an old- fashioned house in what was, till lately, a large open space known as the ^ Green,’ at the extreme end of the Bethnal-green-road. Modern nomenclature has given the place the title of Victoria-square ; and modern ad- vancement has begun to erect a great industrial exhi- bition building on part of the open area. The Guardian Asylum remains, however, eminently successful in the work that it has striven to support for fifty-eight years. There are some features distinguishing it which belong more to its ancient constitution than to any real want of advancement in its progress with modern practice ; so that it may be known at once by the immovable green outer blinds that conceal the windows, and effec- tually prevent any looking out on the part of the in- mates. The inmates themselves, too, wear a peculiar dress : not by any means an unbecoming one, since it consists of some material resembling blue serge, has skirts reaching only to the ankle, and may be said to be finished off with a neat white cap of a French pat- tern. Indeed, the whole costume is not unlike that of the French peasantry. There is not much to describe. From twenty to thirty women and girls, of from sixteen to thirty, form the family within its walls, all of whom have been ad- mitted after having been cast away in the streets of the Great City. None of them, except in special cases, are received if they have previously been in a similar insti- THE EMPLOYMENT, 487 tution or in prison ; and unless on an order, signed by three members of the committee, none are admitted here on immediate application, nor until their case is accepted at the following meeting of the committee, which is held at the asylum every Monday. Tempo- rary refuge can, however, be obtained at some other institution for any urgent case. The employment of the inmates consists of laundry work, with which they are generally well supplied, at a fairly remunerative rate of payment ; and of needlework, which is very thankfully received by the matron, and the terms for executing which are published in the report. The house affairs and the general well-being of the institution are superintended by a committee of ladies ; and I can honestly record that the provision of food, the sleeping accommodation, and even the recrea- tion and social comfort of these poor women, are ade- quately and sympathetically cared for. Little treats and tea-drinkings, as well as some holiday observances, are permitted ; and though, of course, many restrictions are absolutely necessary, they are not made to press hardly. Kemembering from what a life of excitement and irregular license they come, it is not surprising that these women are often difficult to deal with, that they cannot easily submit even to necessary restraints, and that some of them will leave before there is any great opportunity for reformation ; but a large number are penitent, and persevere in their determination to live a renewed life. For these there is no other door open 488 LABOURS OF LOVE. than that of such institutions ; and here they are re- ceived with a welcome and sympathy that is well ex- pressed by the very appearance of the lady who fills the situation of matron to the Guardian, and who brings a refined and genial manner, a decided but always maternal and conciliatory temper, to influence the way- ward creatures under her charge. A residence of from fourteen to sixteen months, with useful employment, religious training, -and the comforts of a home, has generally been found effectual in producing reformation of character. The last report, which only gives these results to the year 1868, shows that since the institution was established, 2,761 young women have been admitted, of whom 736 have been restored to their friends ; 714 have been placed in service, or otherwise satisfactorily provided for ; 4 have emigrated ; 58 have been sent to their respective parishes ; 1,198 have been discharged or withdrawn ; 2 have married ; 25 have died ; 24 were at the time of the report under the care of the society. The work done in the asylum about pays for the food consumed there, and most of the other expenses have to be met by voluntary subscription ; so that even with a grant from the Eeformatory and Eefuge Union for special cases, the greatest economy is required. It may easily be guessed, therefore, that there is no money to spend on repairs ; and although the landlady of the premises lets them at a merely nominal rent as her handsome contribution to the funds, the old-fashioned house is sadly in want of mending, as well as of some HELP NEEDED. 489 additions and extensions, for which Mr. William Ed- wards, the honorary secretary, earnestly asks the con- tributions of those who believe in the necessity for the wwk which the institution is doing. Mr. Edwards’ address is 1 Hamilton-road, Highbury-park, N. The Female Preventive and Eeformatory Institution — the chief office and central asylum of which is at 200 Euston-road, where Mr. Edward W. Thomas, the secre- tary, is in attendance — represents one of the noblest associations in London, since, under its immediate aus- pices, a chain of asylums carry on the useful work of rescue and protection. Let me at once show how earnest an effort should be made for its support — not by any graphic description of either of the dwellings or of their inmates (for the dwellings are no more than ordinary houses adapted to the purpose ; the families who live in them, plainly but variously dressed girls and young women, with no pecu- liarity to distinguish them except the remorse in some faces, the glimmering of a better hope or the cheerful sense of restoration in others), not by any farther pic- ture of what is being done, but by this brief statement in figures : From January 1st to October 31st last year, 178 friendless and distressed females of good character were admitted; 279 penitents were taken from the streets; 890 poor creatures were received into the Night Eecep- 490 LABOURS OF LOVE. tion House. In the prosecution of the work of mercy referred to in the above figures, there was expended 3,728Z. ; total income received, 3,003Z. ; leaving a de- ficit of 725L Now this Night Keception House, which is open all night for the immediate admittance of applicants, is at Nos. 7, 25, and 26 Fitzroy-place, Euston-road. The Eeformatories for the Fallen are at 200 Euston-road; at 18 Cornwall-place, Holloway ; at 5 Camden-street ; and at 3, 4, and 5 Parson’s-green, Fulham. The Home for Friendless Young Women of Good Character, in which the institution supports its protective capacity, is at 195 Hampstead-road ; and the Home for Convalescents — that is to say, for young women of good character on their discharge from hospitals, &c. — is at No. 7 Par- son’s-green. In these asylums, country girls left adrift in Lon- don, and orphans who are not only fallen hut friendless, have the preference ; hut no suitable case is rejected while there is room to receive it ; and the applicant who knocks at the door at 200 Euston-road, and finds no vacant space there, will receive a card to admit her to the Night Eeception House, which is for young females only, neither tramps nor vagrants being admitted. With this card she receives a form addressed to the secre- taries or matrons of various other asylums in London, requesting them to admit her if they have accommoda- tion. In one column of this form are printed the names of the institutions ; while in another, spaces are left for the signatures of those who cannot admit her on her THE NIGHT KECEPTION HOUSE. 491 application ; and, should she he unsuccessful, she may return to the Night Keception House and try again ; but as there are nine asylums on the list, there is no very great probability of her being entirely excluded. This, then, is the mode of operation adopted at this most admirable institution, and in this way it has been effectual in forming an organisation that has already accomplished much in promoting the objects to which it is devoted. Kestoraton. Among the numerous agencies of the Eeform and Eefuge Union, there is one to which I am bound spe- cially to refer — namely, the ^ Committee for the Eelief of Prisoners discharged from the Middlesex House of Correction at Coldbath-fields and from Maidstone GaoP • — that is to say, from the county prisons. In the case of Coldbath-fields, the principal portion of the funds with which the operations of the committee are carried on is derived from grants (not exceeding in each case 2L) made to them under the Act 25 and 26 Viet. cap. 44, by the visiting justices of that prison, to be applied towards the relief of such prisoners as the visiting justices select. To this is added the prisoners’ ‘ star money,’ as it is called, a gratuity given as a re- ward for good conduct in prison, which is placed by such prisoners as are entitled thereto in the hands of the committee. In the case of prisoners from Maidstone Gaol, the committee act as the agents of the ^ Kent Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society,’ taking charge of 492 LABOURS OF LOVE. prisoners befriended by that society who belong to those portions of the county of Kent which are within the limits of the metropolis ; and that society repays to the committee the expenses thus incurred. Other aid has also been given in certain cases, both as supplementing the prison grants, and in cases where no grant has been made, out of the funds at the disposal of the committee, as far as the extent of those funds will allow. Small sums are also occasionally placed in the hands of the committee by the authorities of the City Prison, Holloway, by other institutions, and by the ^ friends of prisoners, to be employed in particular cases. Wherever a grant is made from a prison or other insti- tution, and a margin remains after all necessary assist- ance has been given to the imsoner, the committee make a small charge for the expenses and salaries of the agents who carry out the work. A similar charge is made, should the circumstances admit of it, where cases are undertaken by the committee at the instance and at the expense of individuals. The total sum thus received falls, however, short of that required to defraj’ the working expenses of the committee, though those expenses are reduced to the lowest possible point. The remaining portion must therefore be met by voluntary subscriptions and donations. The mode of the committee’s operations is thus de- scribed in the report of the institution itself : ^ The agent, Mr. Hayward (formerly of the London police force), is placed in communication with the prison authorities. They give him, as far as they know, every MODE OF PROCEDURE. 493 information regarding the circumstances, habits, capa- bilities, and disposition of each prisoner desiring to avail himself of the committee’s assistance. He ascer- tains from the prisoners themselves in what employ- ment they are most likely to succeed; he verifies by inquiry their stories ; and if the case appears a fitting one, the visiting justices make such a grant as they see fit, within the limits of the 2L already mentioned. On the discharge of the prisoners from the gaol, the agent, either personally or by his assistants, takes charge of them. He makes inquiry among persons whom he thinks likely to give them work ; he purchases articles, such as tools, clothing, &c., required for their future calling ; he provides for their maintenance and lodg- ing until they commence supporting themselves ; and, finally, he furnishes continually to the committee de- tailed reports of all his proceedings. When a discharged prisoner has parents or near relations likely to receive him, the agent communicates with them. Frequently he persuades a former employer to receive the man again into his employment. When a discharged pri- soner is suited for a seafaring life, the agent obtains a berth for him on board ship, and fits him out. A very large number, amounting to about one-third of the whole number assisted by the committee, have been thus provided for. Ordinary labouring work has been found for some, and others have been assisted in re- turning to their ^several trades or occupations. The committee rejoice to be enabled for a fourth time to repeat the statement, that “ it has never yet been found 494 LABOURS OF LOVE. necessary to turn a man adrift because no icork coidd be found for him'' ' The work of restoring prisoners discharged from penal servitude to the position of honest labourers has been suc- cessfully effected during the last twelve years by The Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society. This valuable institution, of which Mr. W. Bayne Kanken, who is associated with so many other charit- able associations, fulfils the duties of honorary secre- tary, has its offices at 39 Charing-cross, and though it does not make very prominent appeals for aid, seeks the continued help of the public to enable it to carry out its most admirable provisions. Its operations are directed to the assistance of pri- soners discharged from the convict establishments ; and to this end the authorities of the prisons to which the criminals are committed learn from them whether they desire to avail themselves of the help of the society. Should a prisoner wish to accept its provisions, a printed form, detailing his or her name, amount of money placed to the credit of good conduct, age, offence, and other particulars, is forwarded from the convict prison a short time before the expiration of the sen- tence; and, on the prisoner being sent back to Mill- bank to be discharged, a photographic portrait, with some farther details, is also forwarded to the society’s offices, where the applicant has at once to attend. The gratuity to which he is entitled for earnings THE CRITICAL MOMENT. 495 during imprisonment is handed over to the society, who in this way become his bankers; and this pecu- niary guarantee, in the words of the honorary secre- tary, ‘ prevents a discharged prisoner under the super- vision of the society from becoming the prey of former vicious associates and of that large class of the crimi- nal population to whom he is a marked man. It fre- quently happens that a man, bewildered by the sense of newly-acquired freedom and the possession of money, is recognised by certain peculiarities in appearance and dress as having been recently discharged from prison ; and, though intending to lead an honest life, is, through the influence of those more guilty than himself, thrust back, as it were, into crime.’ After being asked to what trade he can apply him- self, and where his friends live, who may be able and willing to assist him to regain an honest position, he is clothed in suitable garments for the calling he chooses to follow, and is provided with a decent lodging by the agent of the society, who obtains one as far as possible from his old haunts ; the prison discharge-suit (for the return of which something is allowed) being sent back to Millbank. In the case of a female prisoner under the care of the society, she is either placed with some respectable woman or sent to a ‘ home,’ where she re- mains until a situation can be found for her. So ad- mirable an account of the method employed by this society has been reprinted from All the Year Round y to which it was contributed by Mr. William Gilbert, that I cannot bring myself to repeat in other words 496 LABOURS OF LOVE. what he has said plainly and forcibly on the sub- ject. ' A very frequent excuse urged by ticket-of-leave men who are arrested on charges of dishonesty is, that they are so persecuted by the police as to have no chance of obtaining an honest livelihood. In almost every case where the convict has accepted the patronage of the society, this is entirely false. So long as these remain in London the police have no control whatever over them ; and should they be known to the police, , they are strictly ordered not to interfere with them, , unless they have strong reasons for suspecting that they ; are about to commit some dishonest action. But the ' inspection of the convicts under the protection of the ? society is not one jot less stringent than if they were , under the surveillance of the police. Every fact con- cerning them is periodically forwarded to the office of the Chief Commissioner of Police in Scotland - yard. ; These reports contain the name of each prisoner; the { prison in which the latter part of his or her sentence \ was served ; the date of liberation or license ; the ad- ^ dress of the house at Avhich he is residing ; the name ? of the place to which a license-holder intends to re- move, if he purposes leaving the metropolitan district ; and also the place to which any license - holder goes beyond the United Kingdom, together with the date of departure. The particulars of any failure of a license- holder to make the monthly report, or to give notice of changing his address, or of any one who violates the conditions of his license, and any farther information THE PROBLEM AND THE GAIN. 497 that may be needed by the authorities, are carefully supplied. ^ Not only are convicts who are resident in London obliged to report themselves monthly at the society’s office, but inspectors — men of unblemished character and great tact — daily visit one or more of the men who have found employment, and furnish to the secretary a written report of their proceedings. These are all entered in a book, which is kept with great care; so that there exists a complete history of every convict’s life since he has been under the charge of the society. ‘ Let us now endeavour to ascertain the value, both moral and financial, of this society to the community at large. In the first place, it has been mainly instru- mental in solving the problem as to the possibility of turning loose on a metropolis already having its full share of criminal population some thousand liberated convicts, to be kept under strict discipline by a body of a dozen gentlemen, assisted by two intelligent honorary secretaries, a secretary, two or three clerks, and'perhaps as many inspectors, performing in a satisfactory manner a duty which it would require a regiment of ordinary policemen to carry out with effect. This, we believe, comprises the whole of their machinery. They find respectable situations for men and women who have lost all hold on respectability, and whose first introduction to them was a certificate from the governor of a prison that the bearer’s reputation had formerly been of the worst description, and that he had just been liberated from imprisonment for some serious crime.’ KK 498 LABOURS OF LOVE. Of course, a large number of tbe men follow some kind of handicrafts, or, what is more usual, become hawkers and ordinary day-labourers; but, while they are within the metropolitan district, the agent, whom they recognise as their friend, representing the society pays them occasional visits, and finds out how they are going on. Their gratuities held by the society are paid to them in regular periodical sums ; and as most of them require farther assistance than that amount will supply, those prisoners who really desire to reform and become honest members of the community recognise in this society the best means of achieving so praise- worthy an object. The following are the particulars of the 326 cases assisted during the past twelve months : Sent to relatives and friends living abroad, 23 ; ob- tained berths on board ship, 50 ; sent to different places beyond the metropolitan district and placed under the supervision of the local police, 83 ; obtained employ- ment and are doing well in the metropolitan police dis- trict, 95 ; not yet employed, but under care of the society, 13 ; reported to the police for failing to make the monthly report required by Act of Parliament, 44 ; reconvicted, 13 ; died, 2. The average number of discharged prisoners now assisted by this society is about 26 per month; the total number of cases since May 1857, when the society first commenced its operations, being 5,876. EOBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANGEAS EOAD, N.W. THE SEVEN CURSES OF LONDON. By JAMES GREENWOOD, THE ‘ AMATEUR CASUAL.’ CONTENTS. 1. Neglected Children. CHAPTER L— STARTLINH PACTS. CHAPTER II.— RESPECTING THE PARENTAGE OF SOME OF OUR GUTTER POPULATION. CHAPTER III.— BABY FARMING. CHAPTER IV.— WORKING BOYS. CHAPTER Y.— THE PROBLEM OF DELIVERANCE. S. Professional Thieves. CHAPTER VI.— THEIR NUMBER AND THEIR DIFFICULTIES. CHAPTER VIL— THEIR HABITS. CHAPTER VIII.— JUVENILE THIEVES. CHAPTER IX.— THE THIEF NON- PROFESSIONAL. CHAPTER X.— CRIMINAL SUPPRESSION AND PUNISHMENT. CHAPTER XI.— ADULT CRIMINALS, AND THE NEW LAW FOR THEIR BETTER GOVERNMENT. 3. Professional Beggars. CHAPTER XII.— THE OLD LAWS CONCERNING THEM. CHAPTER XIII.— THE WORK OP PUNISHMENT AND RECLAMATION. CHAPTER XIV.— BEGGING ‘ DODGES.’ CHAPTER XV.— GENTEEL ADVERTISING BEGGARS. 4. Fallen Women. CHAPTER XVL— THIS CURSE. CHAPTER XVII.— THE PLAIN FACTS AND FIGURES OP PROSTITUTION. CHAPTER XVIII.— SUGGESTIONS. CHAPTER XIX.— THE PRESENT CONDITION OP THE QUESTION. 6. The Curse of Drunkenness. CHAPTER XX.— ITS POWER. CHAPTER XXL— ATTEMPTS TO ARREST IT. 6. Betting Gamblers. CHAPTER XXII.— ADVERTISING TIPSTERS AND BETTING COMMISSIONERS. 7. Waste of Charity. CHAPTER XXIII.— METROPOLITAN PAUPERISM. CHAPTER XXIV.— THE BEST REMEDY. THE SEVEN CURSES OF LONDON. OPIKIONS or THE PUESS. ‘ No one can say that the writer has lured him by false promises to gaze at hideous spectacles of human degradation and anguish. Together with a mass of clearly digested facts, that will afford no less of assistance to the swial reformer than of entertainment to the curious investigator of the con- dition of the London poor, the Seven Curses of London comprises not a little writing in which sympathy for distress is not more conspicuous than humor- ous suggestiveness.’ — Athenceum. ‘ Mr. Greenwood has seen what comparatively few would care particu- larly to behold, and what still fewer wouM put themselves to the trouble of finding out. He unmasks hypocrisy in the hydra-like forms which it is able to assume — stripping it effectually of all the tinsel trappings by which it seeks to attract and allure. Altogether the volume is one which deserves a large circulation, and which should be carefully read and pondered over. We have no doubt good will be the result of its publication.’ — Glasgow Herald. ^ ‘ Goethe riding within the range of French cannon at Valmy that he might realise the cannon fever, or standing on a narrow platform near a pinnacle of Strasburg Cathedral to experience the sensation of one sus- pended in mid air, was acting in the same spirit of investigation which has animated the “Amateur Casual.” He will take nothing for granted — nothing at second-hand — but must know for himself. The Seven Curses illustrates the remarkable metamorphoses of human creatures, individually and collectively, that take place when in a state of poverty they are massed together.’ — North British Daily Mail. ‘ Mr. Greenwood has penetrated into some slums and by-ways of London and London life, and he describes what he has seen with vigour and vivid- ness. . . His book is eminently readable and highly interesting.’ — Scotsman. ‘ We have no hesitation in prognosticating that the book will become highly popular, and also be regarded as a text-book for all who take interest in the social curses of society. In every page of the Seven Curses of London there are most interesting sketches from life.’ — Leeds Express. ‘Mr. Greenwood has given to the world a valuable book, called the Seven Curses of London. His pages teem with facts, anecdotes, personal ex- periences, and valuable suggestions. He writes just in the style most likely to be of service, not with a bold disregard to delicacy and a shameless laying bare of the hideous details, nor with a mawkish sentimentalism and affecta- tion which shrinks from looking an evil honestly in the face. — Western Daily Press. ‘ To those who even have a good knowledge of the dark side of humanity as it is in London, the revelations in this book are startling ; to others who know little but of the wealth and splendour of the metropolis and its insti- tutions for religious worship and for charity, the book will be a sad one indeed. One is surprised to find “ waste of charity” ranked as amongst London’s deadly curses. But on reflection it seems a right classification. London does find its charities a curse.’ — Halifax Courier. ‘ Those who remember the sketches of tramp- ward life which made the name of Mr. Greenwood famous, will be prepared to find this work graphic, truthful, and therefore highly interesting. Mr. Greenwood is an adventurous investigator and an independent thinker, and these are the sort of men whom the public will always thank to write books.’ — Chester Chronicle. STANLEY RIVEES & CO., 8 Palsgrave-place, Strand.