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PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


BV4010  .A72  1876 

Archer,  Thomas,  1830-1893. 
sheif....  "About  my  Father  '  s 

"  business"  :  work  amidst  the 
zs=  sick,  the  sad,  and  the 

sorrowing. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://www.archive.org/details/aboutmyfathersbu1876arch 


"About  my  Fathers  Business" 


{The  Rights  of  Tt 


' 'A  botit  my  Father  s  Business 


WOkK  AMIDST  THE  SICK,  THE  SAD,  AND 
THE  SORROWING 


y 

THOMAS^ARCHER 

AUTHOR   OF 
'STRANGE  WORK,"   (<A   POOL'S    PARADISE,"    "  THE  TERRIBLE  LONDON, 


THIEF,    AND   THE    CONVICT,"    ETC.,    ETC. 


Henry    S.    King    &    Co. 
1876 


:-i>Oi; 


SCIENTIFIC   LONDON. 

i  vol.  crown  8vo.,  5s. 


By  Bernard  H.  Becker. 


tion 


n  Account  of  the  History  and  present  Scope  of  the  following  institu- 
s  : — 


The  Royal  Society. 
The  Royal  Institution. 
The  Institution  of  Civil  Engineers. 
The  Royal  Geographical  Society. 
The  Society  of  Telegraph   Engi- 
neers. 
The  British  Association. 
The  Birkbeck  Institute. 


The  Society  of  Arts. 

The  Government   Department  of 

Science  and  Art. 
The  Statistical  Society. 
The  Chemical  Society. 
The  Museum  of  Practical  Geology. 
The  London  Institution. 
The  Gresham  Lectures. 


Henry  S.  King  and  Co.,  London. 


Pfinio^ToifV 
apr  m 

■OLOGIC. 


CONTENTS. 


PA.GE 


THE  RARITY  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  -               -                         I 

WITH  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  STRANGER  -                -                9 

WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN  -                -               -      l8 

WITH  THE  STRANGER  IN  A  STRANGE  LAND  -                -             34 

WITH  THOSE  WHO  ARE  LEFT  DESOLATE  -               -                  "43 

WITH  THEM  THAT  GO  DOWN  TO  THE  SEA  IN  SHIPS                  -             53 

WITH  THEM  WHO  WERE  READY  TO  PERISH  -                -                -      62 

CASTING  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS  74 

WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED  -                             -      H 

WITH  THE  LITTLE  ONES          -                 "                ~  "                -           IOO 

IN  THE  KINGDOM                -               -                -  ~                "               -   1 12 

WITH  LOST  LAMBS       -               -                -               "  "                           I25 

WITH  THE  SICK  -                -                -               -  -               ~               "    I3S 

BLESSING  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN      -                -  -               -           144 

WITH  THEM  THAT  FAINT  BY  THE  WAY  -  -               -                -    156 

IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH  -               -           165 

WITH  THE  HALT  AND  THE  LAME              -  -                -               "    173 


vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

WITH  THEM  WHO  HAVE  NOT  WHERE  TO  LAY  THEIR   HEADS      -    190 
TAKING  IN   STRANGERS  -----   200 

FEEDING  THE  MULTITUDE     -----  209 

GIVING  REST  TO  THE  WEARY       -----  220 
WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY  -  -  -  227 

GIVING  THE  FEEBLE  STRENGTH  -  248 

HEALING  THE  SICK     -  n  -  -  261 

WITH  THE  PRISONER       --«-«-  274 


'OGICS 

: 


"ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS.' 


THE  RARITY  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY. 


OULD  it  not  be  useful  t%  ask  ourselves  the 
question  whether  we  are  forgetting  the  true 
meaning  of  "  charity  "  in  the  constant  endea- 
vour to  take  advantage  of  organized  bene- 
volent institutions,  about  the  actual  working  of  which  we 
concern  ourselves  very  little  ?  As  the  years  go  on,  and 
what  we  call  civilisation  advances,  are  we  or  are  we  not 
losing  sight  of  u  our  neighbour"  in  a  long  vista  of  vicarious 
benefactions,  bestowed  through  the  medium  of  a  sub- 
scription list,  or  casual  contributions  at  an  "  anniversary 
festival  ?" 

At  the  speeches  that  are  made  on  such  occasions, 
when  the  banquet  is  over,  and  the  reading  of  the 
amounts  subscribed  is  accompanied  by  the  cracking  of 
nuts  and  a  crescendo  or  decrescendo  of  applause,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  liberality  of  the  donors,  we  are  so  frequently 
reminded  of"  the  good  Samaritan,"  that  we  begin  to  feel 
that  we  may  claim  some  kind  of  relationship  to  him  ;  and 


2  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS." 

may  shake  our  heads  with  solemn  sorrow  at  the  inex- 
cusable conduct  of  the  priest  and  the  Levite.  It  would 
be  worth  while,  however,  to  ask  ourselves  whether  we 
quite  come  up  to  the  mark  of  him  who,  finding  the  man 
wounded  and  helpless  by  the  wayside,  dismounted  that 
he  might  convey  the  sufferer  to  the  nearest  inn ;  poured 
out  oil  for  his  wounds  and  wine  for  his  cheer  ;  left  him 
with  money  in  hand  for  the  supply  of  his  immediate 
needs ;  and  did  not  scruple — with  a  robust  and  secure 
honesty — even  to  get  into  debt  on  his  behalf:  since  the 
crown  of  good-will  would  be  the  coming  again  to  learn 
of  the  patient's  welfare.  The  debt  was  a  pledge  of  the 
intention. 

That  was  the  Lord  Christ's  way  of  looking  at  chari- 
table responsibility,  and  at  benevolent  effort ;  and  even 
granting  that  He  illustrated  the  answer  to  the  question, 
"  Who  is  my  neighbour?"  by  an  extreme  case  of  sudden 
distress,  the  longer  we  look  at  the  peculiar  needs  of  the 
man  who  was  on  his  way  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho,  the 
more  perhaps  we  shall  be  convinced  that  there  are  greater, 
far  greater  evils,  and  more  terrible  accidents,  than  to  fall 
among  thieves,  who  temporarily  rob,  strip,  and  disable 
their  victim. 

The  present  fashion  of  dealing  with  such  an  unfor- 
tunate traveller  would  very  much  depend  on  which  par- 
ticular class  of  philanthropists  the  modern  Samaritan 
who  found  him  by  the  road-side  happened  to  belong  to. 

Of  course,  it  would  be  a  scandal  to  our  Christianity 
to  follow  either  priest  or  Levite,  although  our  cowardly 
sympathies  might  lie  between  the  two  ;  so,  in  order  to 
make  all  safe,  we  hit  on  a  compromise,  and,  according 
to  our  circumstances,  try  to  find  a  medium  line  of  con- 
duct between  Samaritan  and  Levite,  or  Samaritan  and 


THE  RARITY  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  3 

priest.  We  are  ashamed  to  pass  on  without  doing  some- 
thing, and  so  we  call  at  the  inn  on  our  way,  and  leave 
the  twopence  there,  in  case  anybody  else  should  think 
fit  to  bring  on  the  man  who  is  lying,  stunned  and  bleed- 
ing, in  the  roadway.  Or  else,  having  contrived  to  rouse 
the  poor  fellow  to  a  little  effort,  we  borrow  an  ass  and 
take  him  back  with  us,  to  find  some  organised  institution 
for  the  relief  of  those  who  fall  among  thieves,  where  the 
wine  and  oil  are  contracted  for  out  of  the  funds.  And 
there  we  leave  him,  without  remembering  anything 
whatever  about  the  twopenny  contribution  which  would 
represent  our  own  share  in  the  benefaction. 

It  is  an  awful  thought,  and  one  which  it  may  be  hoped 
will  soon  become  intolerable,  that,  with  the  mechanical 
perfection  of  means  for  relieving  the  necessities  of  those 
who  are  afflicted,  there  seems  to  grow  upon  us  a  deadly 
indifference  to  the  very  deepest  need  of  all — that  per- 
sonal, human  sympathy,  without  which  all  our  boast 
of  benevolence  is  but  as  the  sounding  of  brass  and  the 
tinkling  of  a  cymbal.  Can  it  be  possible  that  we  are 
approaching  a  condition  when,  refusing  to  have  the  poor 
and  the  afflicted,  the  widow  and  the  orphan  always  with* 
us,  we  shut  them  away  out  of  our  sight,  leaving  the  whole 
duty  of  visiting  them,  of  clothing  them,  of  giving  them 
meat  and  drink,  to  be  done  by  an  official  committee  ;  a 
charitable  board,  distributing  doles,  exactly  calculated. 
on  a  carefully  devised  scale,  and  divided  to  the  ounce  or 
the  inch,  in  supposed  proportion  to  the  individual  need 
of  each  recipient  ?  Will  there  ever  come  a  time  when 
we  shall  persuade  ourselves  that  we  fulfil  the  law  of 
Christ  by  paying  so  much  in  the  pound  for  a  charity 
rate,  and  leaving  all  the  actual  "  relief"  to  be  effected  by 
an  official  department,  or  a  series  of  official  committees  ? 

I — 2 


4  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS!' 

The  present  aspect  of  charitable  administration  would" 
be  truly  appalling  if  this  were  likely  to  be  the  result,  for 
there  are  far  too  many  evidences  of  that  deadly  indiffer- 
ence which  will  get  rid  of  all  real  personal  responsibility 
by  paying  a  subscription,  and  will  pay  handsomely,  too, 
at  the  same  time  smiling  grimly,  and  half  satirically,  at 
the  recollection  that  there  are  a  number  of  people  who 
always  have  on  hand  "  cases/'  of  whom  they  are  anxious 
to  rid  themselves  by  placing  them  in  any  institution  that 
will  receive  them  without  payment. 

Let  it  not  be  imagined  that  these  latter  words  of  mine 
are  intended  to  apply  to  those  workers  among  the  poor, 
who,  with  small  means  of  their  own,  cannot  do  much 
more  than  speak  words  of  advice  and  comfort,  and  give 
their  earnest  help  to  better  the  condition  of  sordid  homes 
and  of  neglected  children.  There  are  scores  of  true, 
tender-hearted  women  who,  spending  much  time  amongst 
the  sick  and  the  afflicted,  feel  their  hearts  sink  within 
them  as  they  see  how  much  more  might  be  done,  if  they 
had  but  the  wherewithal  to  appease  the  actual  physical 
needs  of  those  to  whom  they  try  to  come  spiritually 
near. 

If  but  the  miracle  so  easy  to  others  were  first  per- 
formed, and  the  five  thousand  fed,  then  indeed  might 
follow  that  still  greater  miracle,  the  earnest  listening  of 
the  once  turbulent  multitude  to  the  words  of  the  Bread 
of  Life. 

But  there  are  those  who  pursue  what  they  regard  as 
"  charitable  work"  as  an  excitement — an  amusement — 
just  as  children  are  sometimes  set  to  play  with  Scripture 
conversation  cards,  and  puzzles  out  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, with  a  kind  of  feeling  that  the  employment  comes 
nearly  to  a  religious  exercise.     There  is  as  much  danger 


THE  RARITY  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  5 

of  these  persons  missing  the  true  work  of  charity  as  there 
would  be  in  the  employment  of  paid  officials — indeed, 
the  latter  would  have  one  advantage  ;  they  would  be 
less  likely  to  be  imposed  upon  by  those  who  to  obtain 
some  special  advantage  would  cringe  and  flatter. 

The  first  great  difficulty  in  visiting  and  temporarily 
relieving  the  lower  class  of  destitute  poor,  is  to  dis- 
abuse their  minds  of  an  inveterate  notion  that  the 
benevolent  visitor  and  distributor  is  paid  by  some 
occult  society,  of  which  the  recipients  of  bounty  know 
nothing,  and  for  which  they  care  very  little.  Un- 
fortunately, the  sharp  determined  amateur  visitor,  who 
"does  a  district"  as  other  people  with  leisure  do  a  flower  ^ 

show  or  a  morning  concert but,  alas  !    these  very 

words  of  mine  show  how  common  is  that  lack  of  true 
charity  of  which  I  designed  to  speak.  Who  am  I  that 
I  should  sum  up  the  disposition  and  the  heart  of  my 
brother  or  my  sister  ?  Only  I  would  say  that  this  sus- 
picion on  the  part  of  the  ignorant  poor,  which  is  so  often 
complained  of— the  notion  that  their  interviewers  are 
paid  for  the  work  of  charity— can  only  yield  to  the  con- 
viction that  the  work  itself  is  undertaken  with  warm 
living  human  sympathy.  Before  the  true  relief  shall 
come  to  any  man,  it  must  come  by  faith.  "  With  the 
heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness,"  and  in  righteous- 
ness also. 

The  two  tendencies  that  are  driving  us  away  from 
charity  to  a  kind  of  selfish  economy,  are  the  habit  of 
"  relieving  our  overcharged  susceptibilities  by  secreting  - 
a  guinea,"  and  thinking  we  have  thereby  fulfilled  the 
claims  of  religion  and  humanity,  and  the  practice  of 
going  about  seeking  where  we  may  find  candidates  for 
other  people's  guineas,  and  so  becoming  a  kind  of  chant- 


6  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:7 

able  detectives,  with  an  eye  to  reputation  and  advance- 
ment in  the  force. 

We  are  forgetting  that  heartfelt  sympathy,  that  clasp 
of  the  hand  and  beam  of  the  eye  which  will  make  even 
a  cup  of  cold  water  a  benefaction,  if  we  have  no  more 
to  give,  or  if  the  need  goes  no  further  than  a  refreshing 
draught,  that  shall  be  turned  from  water  into  wine  by 
the  power  of  loving  fellowship.  Or  we  may  be  saying, 
"  Be  ye  clothed,  and  be  ye  fed,"  trusting  to  some  other 
hand  to  do  the  necessary  work,  without  having  ourselves 
first  wrought  for  the  means  of  taking  our  part  in  it, 
either  by  a  deep  personal  interest  in  the  relieving  insti- 
tution or  in  the  destitute  recipient. 

"  Yet  one  thing  thou  lackest," — even  though  out  of 
thy  great  possessions  a  large  proportion  is  given  to  the 
poor ;  "  follow  thou  me."  "  Go  about  doing  good,"  do  not 
think  to  have  fulfilled  the  law  without  love — that  which 
you  call  charity  ;  the  mere  giving — is  but  to  offer  a  stone 
when  bread  is  required  of  you,  unless  it  be  done  with 
love  in  your  heart — personal,  human,  and  therefore 
Divine  love.  "If  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in  that 
which  is  another  man's,  who  shall  give  you  that  which 
is  your  own  ?"  Use  the  benefits  of  institutions — even 
though  you  use  them  only  for  others — as  you  would 
use  your  own  property.  Recommend  only  cases  that 
are  known  to  you  to  be  worthy  and  necessitous,  and, 
should  the  institution  depend  on  voluntary  support, 
let  a  contribution  accompany  your  "case,"  if  you  can 
any  way  afford  it,  as  an  act  of  justice  as  well  as  of 
mercy. 

Don't  join  in  the  traffic  in  votes,  and  never  go  begging 
for  "  proxies,"  in  order  to  have  an  exchangeable  stock 
on  hand,  that  you  may  secure  a  candidate  for  any  par- 


THE  RARITY  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  7 

ticular  institution.  This  kind  of  gambling  is  a  cancer 
that  is  eating  the  heart  out  of  genuine,  pure,  charitable 
effort,  and  is  making  way  for  the  cold  impersonal  system 
of  distribution,  which  is  now  being  advocated  by  those 
who  would  make  the  relief  of  human  wretchedness  and 
distress  a  mechanical  organisation  without  the  soul  of 
love.  At  the  same  time,  let  us  not  forget  that  no  charit- 
able effort  which  would  be  efficacious  in  affording  relief 
to  the  widely-spread  distress  by  which  we  are  sur- 
rounded, could  be  even  so  much  as  attempted  without 
associations  established  for  the  express  purpose  of  re- 
lieving particular  forms  of  suffering.  This,  indeed,  is 
the  glory  of  our  country,  that  humanity  is  so  strong 
among  us  as  to  lead  us  not  only  to  combine,  but  to  emu- 
late. The  absolute  concentration  and  centralization  of 
charitable  effort  would  be  a  calamity.  The  breaking  up 
of  the  best  of  our  institutions,  which  have  grown  from 
small  beginnings  in  almsgiving  into  wide  and  influential 
centres  of  benevolent  effort,  would  be  destruction. 

If  anything  that  may  be  written  hereafter  concerning 
some  representative  (large  and  small,  but  still  truly 
representative)  efforts  to  do  the  work  that  Christianity 
demands  as  its  first  evidence  of  reality,  should  lead  to  a 
deeper  and  wider  personal  interest  in  their  behalf,  it  will 
be  matter  for  rejoicing.  The  larger  the  number  of  people 
who  ask  what  is  being  done,  the  greater  will  be  the  desire 
to  continue  the  good  work,  or  to  declare  it.  The  atten- 
tion that  might  in  this  way  be  directed  to  the  mode  of 
affording  relief  would  exercise  so  keen  an  influence  in 
the  reformation  of  abuses,  and  the  adoption  of  improve- 
ments, that  all  our  charities  would  soon  become  truly 
"  public."  With  the  more  earnest  conviction  of  the  duty 
of  personal  inquiry,  and  real  sympathetic  interest  in  the 


8  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS." 

individual  well-being  of  our  poorer  brother  or  sister, 
would  come  the  satisfaction  that  we  belonged  to  an 
association,  or  to  a  chain  of  associations,  which  will 
afford  to  him  or  to  her  the  very  relief  which  otherwise 
we  should  despair  of  securing. 

I  purpose  in  another  chapter  to  ask  you  to  read  the 
story  of  an  institution  that  was  in  its  day  wonderfully 
illustrative,  and  even  now  serves  to  take  us  back  for  two 
centuries  of  history.  Only  yesterday  I  was  speaking  to 
some  of  its  inmates.  One  of  them  had  nearly  com- 
pleted her  own  century  of  life,  most  of  them  had  seen 
far  more  than  the  threescore  years  and  ten  which  we  call 
old  age ;  but  they  come  of  a  wonderful  race,  the  men  of 
fire  and  steel;  the  women  of  silent  suffering — the  old 
Huguenots  of  France. 


*\  x  xl  S  0  LOGICS 
-kit 


WITH  THE   CHILDREN   OE  THE  STRANGER. 

HUNDRED  and  eighty-seven  years  ago  a 
French  army  invaded  England  and  effected 
a  landing  at  various  places  on  the  coast. 
Smaller  divisions  of  that  army  had  previously 
obtained  a  footing  in  some  of  the  chief  towns  of  Great 
Britain  ;  and  for  about  fifty  years  afterwards  other  con- 
tingents arrived  at  intervals  to  find  the  compatriots 
settled  among  the  people,  who  had  easily  yielded  to  their 
address  and  courage,  and  by  that  time  were  apparently 
contented  to  regard  them  as  being  permanently  estab- 
lished in  the  districts  of  which  they  had  taken  possession. 
The  strange  part  of  the  story  is,  that  for  a  large  part  of 
this  time  England  was  successfully  engaged  in  war  with 
the  country  of  the  invaders,  and  not  only  with  that 
country,  but  with  a  discarded  prince  of  its  own,  who, 
having  received  assistance  from  France,  strove  to  regain 
the  throne  which  he  had  abdicated  by  raising  civil  war  in 
Ireland.  Then  was  to  be  seen  a  marvellous  thing.  A 
detachment  of  the  French  army  of  occupation  in  England 
went  with  King  William  to  the  Boyne,  and  when  the 
mercenaries  who  were  at  the  back  of  James  in  his  miser- 
able enterprise  came  forth  to  fight,  they  beheld  the 
swords  of    their  countrymen  flash  in  their  faces,   and 


io  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS." 

heard  a  well-known  terrible  cry,  as  a  band  of  veteran 
warriors  cut  through  their  ranks,  fighting  as  they  had 
been  taught  to  fight  in  the  Cevennes  and  amidst  the 
valleys  and  passes  of  Languedoc.  For  the  army  that 
invaded  England  in  1686,  and  for  four  or  five  years  after- 
wards, was  the  army  of  the  French  Huguenots,  against 
whom  the  dragoons  of  Louis  XIV.  and  the  emissaries  of 
Pope  and  priests  had  been  let  loose  after  the  revocation 
of  the  Edict  of  Nantes. 

Four  hundred  thousand  French  Protestants  had  left 
their  country  during  the  twenty  years  previous  to  the 
revocation  of  that  pact,  which  had  been  renewed  after  the 
siege  of  Rochelle,  and  though  the  attempt  to  escape  from 
the  country  was  made  punishable  by  the  confiscation  of 
property  and  perpetual  imprisonment  in  the  galleys,  six 
hundred  thousand  persons  contrived  to  get  out  of  France, 
and  found  asylums  in  Flanders,  Switzerland,  Holland,  Ger- 
many, and  England,  after  the  persecutions  were  resumed. 

Comparatively  few  of  the  men  who  came  in  the  second 
emigration  had  fought  for  the  religion  that  they  pro- 
fessed. They  had  learned  to  endure  all  things,  and 
with  undaunted  courage  many  of  them  had  suffered 
the  loss  of  their  worldly  goods,  the  burning  of  their 
houses,  hunger,  poverty,  and  the  imprisonment  of  their 
wives  and  daughters  in  distant  fortresses,  because  they 
would  not  forswear  their  faith.  Hundreds  of  their  com- 
panions were  at  the  galleys,  hundreds  more  had  been 
tortured,  mutilated,  burned,  broken  on  the  wheel. 
Women  as  well  as  men  endured  almost  in  silence  the. 
fierce  brutalities  of  a  debased  soldiery,  directed  by 
priests  and  fanatics,  who  had,  as  it  were,  made  themselves 
drunk  with  blood,  and  seemed  to  revel  in  cruelty.  With 
a  resolution  that  nothing  seemed  able  to  abate,  pastors 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  STRANGER.      ir 

like  Claude  Brousson  went  from  district  to  district,  living 
they  knew  not  how,  half  famished,  in  perpetual  danger, 
and  with  little  expectation  of  ultimately  escaping  the 
stake  or  the  rack.  Nay,  they  refused  to  leave  the 
country,  while  in  the  woods  and  wildernesses  of  the  Gard 
great  congregations  of  their  brethren  awaited  their 
coming,  that  they  might  hold  services  in  caves  and  "  in 
the  desert,"  as  they  called  that  wild  country  of  the 
Cevennes  and  of  Lozere.  These  men  were  non-resist- 
ants. They  met  with  unflinching  courage,  but  without 
arms.  Those  of  them  who  remained  in  France  stayed  to 
see  the  persecutions  redoubled  in  the  attempt  to  exter- 
minate the  reformed  faith.  They  were  the  truest  vindi- 
cators of  the  religion  that  they  professed.  Up  to  the 
time  of  the  siege  of  Rochelle,  and  afterwards,  Protestant- 
ism was  represented  by  a  defensive  sword,  but  these 
men  discarded  the  weapons  of  carnal  warfare.  Only 
some  years  later,  when  the  persecutors  (rioting  in  the 
very  insanity  of  wrath  because  their  declaration  that 
Protestantism  was  abolished  was  falsified  by  constant 
revivals  of  the  old  Huguenot  worship)  directed  utter  ex- 
termination of  the  Vaudois,  did  the  grandeur  of  the  non- 
resisting  principle  give  way  before  the  desperation  of  men 
who  came  to  the  conclusion  that,  if  they  were  to  die,, 
they  might  as  well  die  fighting. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  some  of  them  knew  well 
how  to  fight.  Some  of  their  leaders — men  of  peace  as 
they  were,  and  men  of  an  iron  determination,  which  was 
shown  in  the  obstinacy  with  which  they  refused  to  take 
up  the  sword — had  come  of  stern  warriors  and  were 
Frenchmen — Norman  Frenchmen — Protestant  Norman 
Frenchmen.  A  rare  combination  that ; — cold  hard  steel 
and  fire. 


1 2  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THER'S  BUSINESS:9 

But  it  was  not  till  some  time  afterwards  that  these  men 
became  the  leaders  of  the  peasantry,  the  chestnut-fed 
mountaineers  who  came  down  from  their  miserable  huts 
and  joined  what  had  then  become  an  organised  army 
of  insurrection.  Before  this  time  arrived  a  strange 
aberration  seemed  to  move  the  people.  The  old  simple 
non-resisting  pastors  had  been  done  to  death  by  torture 
and  execution,  and  the  people  met,  it  is  true,  but  often 
met  amid  the  ruin  of  their  homes,  or  in  desert  places, 
and  as  sheep  having  no  shepherd.  Then  a  wild  hys- 
terical frenzy  appeared  among  them.  Men,  women,  and 
even  children  claimed  to  be  inspired,  and  at  length  fana- 
ticism leaped  into  retaliation.  On  a  Sunday  in  July, 
1702,  a  wild  mystic  preacher,  named  Seguier  went  down 
with  a  band  of  about  fifty  armed  men  to  release  the  pri- 
soners. They  were  confined  in  dungeons  beneath  the 
house  of  one  Chayla,  a  priest,  who  directed  the  prosecu- 
tions, and  invented  the  tortures  which  he  caused  to  be 
inflicted  for  the  conversion  of  heretics.  The  Protestants 
broke  open  his  door,  forced  the  prison,  and  ultimately  set 
fire  to  the  house,  in  attempting  to  escape  from  which 
Chayla  was  recognised  and  killed.  This  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  series  of  retaliations  by  the  tormented  people, 
the  success  of  which  changed  the  whole  attitude  of  the 
Protestants  of  the  district.  They  had  formerly  endured 
in  silence  ;  now  they  were  desperate  enough  for  insurrec- 
tion. And  the  insurrection  followed.  Seguier  was 
captured,  maimed,  and  burnt  alive  ;  but  others  took  his 
place.  The  war  of  the  "  Camisards  "  had  commenced. 
Then  it  was  that  the  leaders  of  the  Protestant  army  in  the 
Cevennes  arose  ; — Roland  and  Cavalier,  and  the  men  who 
for  a  long  time  waged  successful  warfare  against  the  royal 
forces,  till  defeat  came  accompanied  by  a  new  rfgime. 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  STRANGER.       13 

The  rumbling  of  the  revolutionary  earthquake  was 
already  shaking  the  throne  and  the  persecuting  church. 
Voltaire,  educated  by  the  Jesuits,  and  hating  religion, 
was  helping  to  deliver  the  martyrs  of  the  Protestant 
faith  even  before  he  began  to  "  philosophise." 

The  struggle  of  the  Camisards  can  only  be  said  to  have 
ceased  when  the  persecutions  were  nearly  at  an  end,  and 
France  itself  was  tottering.  But  what  of  that  great 
Huguenot  contingent  which  had  invaded  Britain,  and  was 
growing  in  number  year  by  year  as  the  emigres,  leaving 
houses  and  land,  shops,  warehouses,  and  factories,  fled 
across  the  frontier,  or  got  down  to  the  shore,  and  came 
over  the  sea  in  fishing-boats  and  other  small  craft,  in 
which  they  took  passage  under  various  disguises,  or  were 
stowed  away  in  the  holds,  or  packed  along  with  bales  of 
merchandise,  to  escape  the  vigilance  of  the  emissaries 
who  were  set  to  watch  for  escaping  Protestants  ?  It  is  a 
little  significant  that  of  these  non-combatant  Protestants 
eleven  regiments  of  soldiers  were  formed  in  the  English 
army ;  but  the  truth  is  that  of  the  vast  number  of  emi- 
gres who  left  France,  some  30,000  were  trained  soldiers 
and  sailors,  and  doubtless  a  proportion  of  these  came  to 
England,  though  probably  fewer  than  those  of  their  num- 
ber who  served  in  the  Low  Countries.  At  any  rate,  in 
1687,  two  years  after  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes,  there  arrived  in  England  15,500  refugees,  some 
of  whom  brought  with  them  very  considerable  property, 
and  most  of  them  were  men  of  education,  or  skilled  in 
the  knowledge  of  the  arts,  or  of  those  manufactures  and 
handicrafts  which  are  the  true  wealth  of  a  nation.  At 
Norwich  and  Canterbury  they  quickly  formed  communi- 
ties which  became  prosperous,  and  helped  the  prosperity 


14  "  ABOUT  M  Y  FA THERS  BUSINESS." 

of  the  districts,  where  they  set  up  looms,  and  dyeworks, 
and  other  additions  to  the  local  industries.  In  London 
they  formed  two  or  three  remarkable  colonies,  so  that 
when  Chamberlain  wrote  his  "Survey  of  London," 
there  were  about  twenty  French  Protestant  churches,  the 
greater  number  of  which  stood  in  Shoreditch,  Hoxton, 
and  Spitalfields — in  fact,  above  13,000  emigrants  had 
settled  in  or  near  the  metropolis.  The  one  French  Pro- 
testant church  founded  by  Edward  VI.  was,  of  course, 
inadequate  to  receive  them,  and  their  immediate  neces- 
sities were  so  great  that  a  collection  was  made  for  their 
relief,  and  a  sum  of  60,000/.  was  by  this  means  obtained 
in  order  to  alleviate  their  distress. 

Among  these  emigres  were  many  noblemen  and  gentle- 
men of  distinction,  who,  with  their  wives,  were  reduced  to 
extreme  poverty  by  the  confiscation  of  their  property. 
These  had  learned  no  trade,  but  with  characteristic 
courage  many  of  them  set  themselves  to  acquire  the 
knowledge  of  some  craft  by  which  they  might  earn 
their  bread,  while  some  of  their  number  learned  of  their 
wives  to  make  pillow-lace,  and  so  continued  to  support 
themselves  in  decent  comfort. 

To  those  who  knew  the  "  old  French  folk,"  as  they  came 
to  be  called  in  after  years,  when  the  later  emigration  had 
again  increased  the  number  of  the  weavers'  colony  in 
Spitalfields,  nothing  was  more  remarkable  than  the  cheer- 
fulness, one  might  almost  say  the  gaiety,  that  distinguished 
them.  Reading  the  account  given  by  French  writers  of 
the  old  Huguenots  in  France,  one  might  be  disposed  to 
regard  them  as  stern  and  sour  sectaries,  but  that  would 
be  a  very  erroneous  opinion.  Perhaps  the  sudden 
freedom  to  which  they  came,  the  rest  of  soul,  and  the 
opportunity  to  endeavour  to  serve  God  with  a  quiet  mind 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  STRANGER.      15 

raised  them  to  a  tranquil  happiness  which  revived  the 
national  characteristic  of  light-heartedness  ;  but  how- 
ever it  may  have  been,  the  real  genuine  old  French 
weaver  of  Spitalfields  and  Bethnal  Green  was  a  very 
courteous,  merry,  simple,  child-like  gentleman.  The 
houses  in  which  these  people  lived,  some  of  which  are 
still  to  be  seen  with  their  high-pitched  roofs  and  long 
leaden  casements,  were  very  different  to  the  barely- 
furnished,  squalid  places  in  which  their  descendants  of 
to-day  are  to  be  found  ;  and,  indeed,  the  Spitalfields 
weaver  even  of  seventy  years  ago  was  usually  a  well-to- 
do  person  ;  while  in  the  old  time  he  could  take  "  Saint 
Monday"  every  week,  wear  silver  crown-pieces  for  but- 
tons on  his  holiday  coat,  and  put  on  silk  stockings  on 
state  occasions.  This  was  in  the  days  when  French  was 
still  spoken  in  many  of  the  little  parlours  of  houses  that 
stood  within  gardens  gay  with  sweet-scented  blooms  of 
sweet-william,  ten-weeks-stock,  and  clove-pink.  When 
there  was  still  an  embowered  greenness  in  '•  Bednall," 
and  Hare  Street  Fields  were  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
"Sinjun" — St.  John,  or  rather  St.  Jean  Street, — or  of 
the  little  chapel  of  "La  Patented  in  Brown's  Lane, 
Spitalfields.  Even  in  later  times  than  that,  however,  I 
can  remember  being  set  up  to  a  table,  and  shown  how 
to  draw  on  a  slate,  by  an  old  gentleman  with  a  face 
streaked  like  a  ruddy  dried  pippin.  I  was  just  old 
enough  to  make  out  that  the  tea-table  talk  was  in  a 
strange  tongue ;  but  I  can  remember  that  there  were 
evidences  of  the  refinements  that  the  old  refugees  had 
brought  with  them  across  the  sea.  Not  only  in  their 
neat  but  spruce  attire,  in  their  polite  grace  to  women,  in 
their  easy,  good-humoured  play  and  prattle  to  little 
children,  in  their  cultivation  of  flowers,  their  liking  for 


16  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THEKS  BUSINESS." 

birds,  and  their  taste  for  music,  but  in  a  score  of  trifling- 
objects  about  their  tidy  rooms,  where  the  click  of  the 
shuttle  was  heard  from  morning  to  night,  these  old 
French  folk  vindicated  their  birth  and  breeding.  By- 
tea-services  of  rare  old  china,  rolls  of  real  "point"  lace, 
a  paste  buckle,  an  antique  ring,  a  fat,  curiously-engraved 
watch,  a  few  gem-like  buttons,  delicately-coloured  porce- 
lain and  chimney  ornaments ;  by  books  and  manuscript 
music,  or  by  flute  and  fiddle  deftly  handled  in  the  play- 
ing of  some  old  French  tune,  these  people  expressed 
their  distinction  without  being  aware  of  it.  It  has  not 
even  yet  died  out.  Unfortunately,  many  of  their  de- 
scendants— representatives  of  a  miserably  paid,  and  now 
nearly  superseded  industry — have  deteriorated  by  the 
influences  of  continued  poverty ;  and  even  so  long  ago 
as  the  evil  war-time  of  Napoleon  I.,  many  of  the  old 
families  anglicised  their  names  in  deference  to  British 
hatred  of  the  French,  but  there  are  still  a  large  number 
of  people  in  the  eastern  districts  of  London  whose  names, 
faces,  and  figures  alike  proclaim  their  origin. 

But  we  must  go  back  once  more  to  the  time  when  the 
great  collection  was  made.  It  is  at  least  gratifying  to 
know  that  the  ^"60,000  soon  increased  to  ^"200,000,  and 
was  afterwards  called  the  "  Royal  Bounty,"  though 
Royalty  had  nothing  to  do  with  it  during  that  reign. 
In  1686-7  about  6000  persons  were  relieved  from  this 
fund,  and  in  1688  27,000  applicants  received  assistance, 
while  others  had  employment  found  for  them,  or  were 
relieved  by  more  wealthy  6migr6s  who  had  retained  or 
recovered  some  part  of  their  possessions.  But  there 
were  still  aged  and  sick  people,  little  children,  widows, 
orphans,  broken  men,  homeless  women,  and  lonely 
creatures  who  had  become  almost  imbecile  or  insane 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  STRONGER.      17 

through  the  cruelties  and  privations  that  they  had  suf- 
fered. For  these  a  refuge  was  necessary,  and  at  length 
— but  not  till  1708 — an  institution  was  founded  in  St. 
Luke's,  under  the  name  of  the  French  Hospital,  but 
better  known  to  the  "  old  folks"  as  the  "  Providence." 

Of  what  it  was  and  is  I  design  to  tell   in   another 
chapter. 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN. 


HAT  great  invading  French  army  of  nobles, 
gentry,  artists,  traders,  handicraftsmen,  ot 
which  some  account  has  already  been  given, 
was   added  to   from  time  to  time,  even  as 


lately  as  the  Revolution,  and  the  restoration  of  the 
dynasty  after  the  downfall  of  Napoleon,  when  a  strange 
reaction  against  the  Protestants  was  commenced,  partly 
as  a  pretence  for  concealing  political  animosity.  The 
department  of  the  Gard  was  once  more  the  scene  of  hor- 
rible atrocities,  against  which  Lord  Brougham  invoked 
the  aid  of  the  English  Parliament,  and  obtained  the  help 
of  Austrian  bayonets  to  protect  the  people,  who  were 
being  murdered,  tortured,  or  outraged,  in  defiance  of 
feeble  local  authorities.  But  by  this  time  there  was  a 
new  generation  of  the  first  great  Anglo-French  colony 
in  London.  Spitalfields  had  grown  to  the  dimensions 
of  a  township.  Bethnal  had  begun  to  lose  its  greenness. 
There  was,  as  there  still  is,  a  remarkable  settlement 
about  Soho.  "  Petty  France"  was  as  well  known  as  the 
exhibition  of  needlework  in  Leicester  Square,  or  Mrs. 
Salmon's  wax  figures  in  Fleet  Street. 

Those  poor  refugees  who  fled  to  escape  from  the  hor- 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN.  19 

rors  of  Sainte  Guillotine,  or  the  ruthless  cruelties  at 
Nismes,  came  to  brethren  many  of  whom  had  never 
seen  the  glowing  valleys  and  golden  fields  of  Languedoc, 
whence  their  forefathers  escaped  only  with  life  and  hands 
to  work.  They  had  preserved  their  national  character- 
istics ;  they  attended  churches  and  chapels  where  the 
pastors  still  spoke  their  native  tongue,  and  where  they 
had  established  schools  for  their  children ;  but  they 
had  settled  down  to  a  quiet,  though  a  busy  life,  in  the 
heart  of  the  great  workshop  of  the  world,  and  only  a 
few  of  them — principally  the  gentry,  some  of  whom  had 
regained  a  portion  of  their  property — felt  frequent  or 
urgent  impulses  to  return.  More  than  a  hundred  and 
twenty  years  had  elapsed  since  the  "  Royal  Bounty"  had 
been  expended  in  the  relief  of  the  27,000  tmigris  who  yet 
were  without  any  permanent  refuge  for  the  destitute,  the 
sick,  the  aged,  and  the  insane  among  their  number. 
This  was  in  1688,  and  it  wras  not  till  nearly  twenty- 
eight  years  afterwards  that  any  regular  institution  was 
organized.  The  earlier  refugees  had  become  aged  or 
had  died,  after  having  obtained  such  temporary  help  as 
could  be  afforded  by  subscriptions  or  the  large  benefac- 
tions of  their  more  wealthy  fellow-countrymen.  Still, 
the  later  emigrations  increased  the  number  of  applicants 
for  permanent  relief.  At  last,  in  17 18,  a  great  concourse 
of  French  refugees  assembled  in  a  chapel  which  formed 
a  special  portion  of  a  building  only  just  completed,  but 
which  had  already  received  the  dignity  of  forming  the 
subject  of  a  Royal  charter  granted  by  His  Majesty 
King  George  I.  to  his  "  right  trusty  and  right  well- 
beloved  cousin,  Henry  de  Massue,  Marquis  de  Ruvigny, 
Earl  of  Galloway,  and  a  number  of  trusty  and  well- 
belcved  gentlemen,  all  naturalized  refugees,  who  made 

2 — 2 


20  "  ABO UT  HI  Y  FA  THE  IV  S  BUSINESS" 

the  first  governor  and  directors  of  the  "  Hospital  for 
Poor  French  Protestants  and  their  descendants  residing 
in  Great  Britain  ;"  otherwise  known  as  the  French  Hos- 
pital, but  soon  to  be  spoken  of  with  simple  pathetic 
brevity  as  "  La  Providence." 

The  idea  of  founding  such  a  charity  was  due  to  a  dis- 
tinguished refugee  in  Holland — no  less  a  personage  than 
M.  de  Gastigny,  Master  of  the  Hounds  to  Prince  Wil- 
liam of  Orange ;  a  ruddy,  jovial-looking  gentleman 
withal,  whose  portrait,  should  you  go  to  see  it,  will  set 
you  wondering  whether  he  could  ever  have  been  classed 
among  the  "sour  sectaries"  to  whom  it  was  the  fashion 
to  attribute  a  disregard  of  social  pleasures.  A  bequest 
of  a  thousand  pounds  sterling  from  the  bluff  keeper  of 
the  kennels  was  to  be  divided  into  equal  sums — £500 
for  the  building,  and  the  interest  of  the  remaining  £500 
to  be  spent  on  its  maintenance. 

Not  a  very  adequate  provision,  truly,  for  any  such 
purpose  ;  but  sufficiently  suggestive  to  set  the  more 
prosperous  members  of  the  great  Anglo-French  colony 
to  increase  the  amount.  The  astute  Master  of  the 
Hounds  must  surely  have  foreseen  this  result  when  he 
left  this  legacy  to  the  management  of  the  trustees  of  the 
already  existing  relief  fund,  still  miscalled  "  the  Royal 
Bounty."  They  exhibited  that  prudence  in  money 
matters  which  is  a  French  characteristic,  and  let  the 
thousand  pounds  accumulate  for  eight  years,  after  which 
a  general  subscription  wras  invited  from  successful  mer- 
chants and  traders,  while  with  a  just  appreciation  of  the 
benefits  which  had  been  conferred  by  these  good  citizens 
on  the  land  of  their  adoption,  some  wealthy  Englishmen 
added  their  contributions  to  the  general  fund. 

Thus  it  came  about,  that  a  piece  of  land  was  pur- 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN.  21 

chased  in  the  Golden  Acre — a  queer  old  half-countrified 
precinct  of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate — that  a  building  was 
erected  for  the  reception  of  eighty  poor  persons,  that  a 
charter  was  granted,  and  that  the  new  charitable  asso- 
ciation was  consecrated  in  the  new  chapel  by  Philippe 
Menard,  the  minister  of  the  French  Church  of  St. 
James's  and  secretary  of  the  enterprise. 

This  was,  indeed,  something  worth  working  for.  The 
aged  or  afflicted  poor  among  the  refugees  were  no  longer 
mere  mendicants  living  on  precarious  alms.  Out  of  their 
abundance  the  more  prosperous  gave  cheerfully.  In 
1736  another  adjoining  site  was  purchased,  and  another 
side  of  the  great  open  quadrangle  of  garden  ground  was 
built  upon,  so  that  by  1760  the  "Providence"  numbered 
230  inmates.  This,  however,  was  its  culminating  point 
of  usefulness.  Religious  persecution  had  diminished, 
and  at  length  may  be  said  to  have  ceased  altogether. 
Even  as  early  as  1720  only  5000  persons  required  relief 
from  the  "Bounty,"  so  that  eventually  the  trustees  were 
enabled  to  devote  part  of  it  to  the  assistance  of  those 
who  fled  from  the  Revolution — many  of  whom  were  the 
descendants  of  those  who  had  been  the  persecutors  of 
the  Protestants.  The  great  industrial  colony,  prudent, 
temperate,  and  industrious,  had  almost  grown  beyond  its 
earlier  needs — and  all  that  it  required  was  that  some 
adequate  provision  should  be  made  for  infirm  or  aged 
men  and  women,  who  being  widowed  or  unmarried,  and 
without  means  of  support,  required  a  refuge  in  which 
they  might  peacefully  end  their  days.  The  same  causes 
which  had  diminished  the  number  of  applicants  had  also 
reduced  the  amount  of  current  subscriptions,  so  that 
some  portion  of  the  building  was  removed,  as  being  no 
longer  necessary,  and  in  order  to  secure  a  sufficient  en- 


22  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS? 

dowment  an  Act  of  Parliament  was  obtained,  empower- 
ing the  directors  to  let  their  land  on  building  leases.  By 
that  time  the  neighbourhood  was  known  not  as  "the 
Golden  Acre,"  but  as  St.  Luke's,  and  on  the  ground  once 
purchased  by  the  Marquis  de  Ruvigny  and  his  trusty  and 
well-beloved  companions,  grew  Radnor  Street,  Galway 
Street,  Gastigny  Place,  and  part  of  Bath  Street,  while 
the  number  of  inmates  was  reduced  to  sixty — that  is  to 
say,  about  twenty  men  and  forty  women,  all  of  whom 
were  to  be  above  sixty  years  of  age,  of  French  extrac- 
tion, and  professing  the  Protestant  religion.  It  was  a 
queer  old  range  of  building,  that  retreat ;  pleasant 
enough,  perhaps,  when  as  a  rather  blank  series  of  red 
brick  houses,  it  looked  across  its  own  formal  walled 
garden  to  the  pleasant  fields  and  open  country,  but 
strangely  silent,  and  with  a  crumbling,  dreary  look  about 
it,  when  the  lunatic  asylum  of  St.  Luke's  dominated  all 
the  surrounding  tenements  of  a  crowded,  sordid  neigh- 
bourhood. Only  the  initiated  could  easily  find  the  little 
low  black  door  that  opened  in  the  bare  wall,  and  led  to 
the  large  irregular  space,  which  was  laid  out  in  weedy 
beds  and  stony  borders,  distinguished  by  an  air  of  decay 
rather  than  of  production — especially  where  in  certain 
dank  corners  a  tangle  of  sapless  stalks  and  tendrils  indi- 
cated some  faintly  hopeful  attempt  to  rear  an  arbour,  in 
which  persons  of  robust  imagination  might  fancy  they 
were  sheltered  from  impending  blacks  that  issued  from 
the  manufactory  chimneys  close  by.  The  visitor  to  this 
out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  great  city,  seeing  the  old 
people  walking  up  and  down  the  paved  causeway  in 
front  of  the  row  of  crooked-paned  lower  windows,  or 
airing  themselves  at  the  doorsteps,  might  be  excused  for 
the  fancy  that  they  had  the  imaginative  faculty  of  chil- 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN.  23 

dren  ;  and  were  expected  to  "  make  believe"  a  good 
deal  before  they  could  quite  reconcile  themselves  to  the 
notion  that  this  dingy  area  of  quadrilateral  plots  and 
paths,  in  which  the  wet  stood  in  small  puddles,  was  ever 
a  "  pleasaunce"  gay  with  garden  blooms,  and  smelling  of 
knotted  marjoram  and  fragrant  thyme.  Yet  there  were 
still  evidences  of  the  invincible  cheerfulness  of  the  old 
French  nature,  among  the  old  creatures  with  faces 
streaked  like  winter  apples,  and  hands  which,  even 
though  they  trembled,  were  swift  of  gesture  and  of  em- 
phasis. 

There  were  old  fellows  there  who  had  still  about  them 
indications  of  true  comeliness  and  grace  that  distin- 
guished them  from  all  vulgar  surroundings ; — ancient 
gentlemen,  who  would  go  out  on  wet  days  to  sweep 
away  any  rainpools  that  might  lie  before  the  doors  of 
the  old  ladies,  and  so  besmirch  an  otherwise  immaculate 
shoe.  It  should  be  remembered,  too,  that  there  was  no 
livery  there.  Those  who  had  some  one  to  help  them  to 
the  garb  of  gentility  wore  what  pleased  them ;  those 
who  were  dependent  on  the  charity  for  clothing,  were 
neither  bound  in  one  pattern,  nor  condemned  to  the  uni- 
form of  poverty.  Neat  or  lively  cotton  prints,  or  warm 
stuff  gowns,  with  proper  hose  and  caps  and  kerchiefs,  for 
the  women ;  plain  Oxford  mixture,  black,  steel  grey,  or 
brown,  for  the  men,  and  each  one  measured  for  his  suit. 
Those  who  entered  there  were  not  the  recipients  of  a 
dole  grudgingly  conceded.  It  was  no  poorhouse,  but  the 
"  Providence."  Only  eleven  years  ago  there  were  some 
evidences  of  the  old  meaning  of  the  place  in  the  rem- 
nants of  the  antique  furniture  which  adorned  the  queer 
rooms.  They  were  not  wards  or  dormitories,  but  verit- 
able bedrooms  ;  and  each  one  had  its  own  peculiarities, 


24  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS."  ' 

even  in  the  bedsteads  with  spindle  posts  and  dimity- 
hangings,  the  boxes  and  cupboards,  and  special  chairs 
which  distinguished  it  from  the  rest.  Some  of  these 
things  had  evidently  been  heirlooms  either  of  the  insti- 
tution or  of  the  individual ;  and,  indeed,  the  preserva- 
tion of  individuality  was  a  cheerful  feature  of  the  place, 
despite  its  dim  and  somewhat  dreary  surroundings. 

The  Board  Room  was,  in  its  way,  one  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary apartments  in  London :  with  its  tables  sup- 
ported by  a  tangled  puzzle  of  legs,  its  high-backed, 
polished  chairs  with  leather  seats,  worn  till  they  reminded 
one  of  the  cover  of  an  antique  ledger  bound  in  un- 
finished calf;  its  wonderful  old  black-framed  prints 
representing  the  meetings  of  the  Huguenots  in  the 
Clerk's  field  in  the  times  when  men  and  women  carried 
their  lives  in  their  hands,  and  dragoons  rode  congrega- 
tions down  and  slashed  them  with  sabres  as  they  fell. 
Its  dimly-seen  portraits  of  the  noble,  broad-browed, 
dark-eyed  Ruvigny  (the  first  governor),  who  refused  to 
go  back  to  France  even  at  the  invitation  of  the  King ; 
of  the  gentle  Pastor  Menard,  with  high,  capacious  fore- 
head, and  calm,  strong  mien  ;  of  hale,  shrewd,  ruddy 
Gastigny  ;  and  of  some  men  of  later  date,  with  French- 
man written  in  every  line  of  their  finely-marked  faces. 

The  little  room  set  apart  as  a  chapel — a  barely- 
furnished  place  enough,  with  desk  and  raised  platform 
and  plain  seats — was  venerable  because  of  all  the  mean- 
ing that  lay  in  its  studied  absence  of  all  ornament,  and 
because  of  the  significance  it  must  once  have  had  to 
the  sad-eyed  men  who  crowded  into  it,  some  of  them 
thinking,  perhaps,  how  it  had  come  about  that  they 
could  stand  there  in  peace  and  without  a  hand  upon  the 
hilt  of  a  sword. 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN.  25, 

There  were,  even  at  that  later  time,  old  men  and 
women  in  the  dim  old  building  who  could  repeat  family 
legends  of  the  emigration — for  they  lived  to  a  great  age, 
these  French  folk,  many  of  them  being  still  alert  of  eye 
and  ear,  and  foot,  even  though  they  had  heard  the  click 
of  the  shuttle  and  the  rattle  of  the  loom  eighty  years 
before. 

Some  of  them  have  survived  the  old  place  itself;  for 
while  they  are  in  a  new  home,  the  ancient  building  has 
changed,  if  even  it  be  not  altogether  dismantled.  The 
leases  paid  good  interest,  and  eight  years  ago  a  new 
French  hospital  arose — away  from  the  dingy  old  precinct 
of  the  Golden  Acre. 

To  see  this  later  "  Providence"  aright,  you  must  come 
through  the  very  heart  of  that  neighbourhood  which  was 
once  the  great  Silk  Colony,  thread  the  bye-ways  of 
Poverty  Market,  note  the  tall  silent  houses  where  the 
looms  no  longer  rattle,  nor  the  sharp  whirr  of  the  shuttle 
stirs  cage-birds  to  sing ;  pass  across  the  debatable  land 
lying  on  the  edge  of  Shoreditch,  where  human  beings 
live  in  sties  built  in  the  backyards  of  other  houses,  in 
streets  that  are  still  with  the  blank  silence  of  misery  and 
want.  You  should  walk  amidst  pigeon  and  dog  fanciers  ; 
call  in  at  certain  dingy,  slipshod  taverns,  where  at  night 
a  slouching  company  will  meet  to  hear  bullfinches  pipe- 
for  wagers,  and  where  starving  men  and  women  stand 
and  drink  away  the  pence  that  are  all  too  few  to  buy 
food  for  the  starving  brood  at  home,  and  so  are  flung 
upon  the  sloppy  counter  in  exchange  for  the  drugged 
drink  that  feels  like  food  and  fire  in  one.  Through 
Bethnal  Green,  with  its  "townships"  and  its  "Follies," 
extending  in  sordid  rows  of  tenements  built  to  one  dreary 
pattern.     Over  districts  which,   only  a   few  years  ago> 


26  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS." 

-were  fields  and  open  spaces,  leading  to  farm  lands  and 
hedgerows,  and  so  away  to  the  great  expanse  of  marsh 
land  where  the  dappled  kine  wade  knee-deep  in  the  lush 
pastures,  and  the  stunted  pollards  stand  like  patient 
•fishermen  upon  the  river's  brink. 

Yes,  the  present  "French  Hospital" — the  New 
Providence — was  built  ten  years  ago  in  the  border-land 
beyond  the  Weavers  Garden,  that  great  garden  and 
pleasure-ground  known  as  Victoria  Park.  It  is  the  only 
garden  left  to  the  descendants  of  those  old  craftsmen 
who  once  dwelt  in  houses  every  one  of  which  had  its  gay 
plot  of  flowers,  its  rustic  arbour,  or  its  quaint  device  of 
grotto-work,  built  up  of  oddly-shaped  stones  and  pearl- 
edged  oyster-shells.  Do  you  think  there  is  now  no 
remnant  of  the  old  French  folk  left  ?  Come  for  a  stroll 
among  the  grand  beds  and  plantations  of  this  East-end 
playground,  and  you  shall  see.  On  holidays  and  alas ! 
on  those  days  when  (to  use  the  expressive  term  handed 
•down  from  prosperous  times)  the  weaver  is  "  at  play" — 
that  is  to  say,  waiting  for  woof  and  weft,  and  so  wiling 
away  the  sad  and  often  hunger-bringing  hours — you  will 
see  him,  with  his  keen  well- cut  face,  his  dark  appreciative 
-eye,  his  long  delicate  hands,  his  well-brushed,  threadbare 
coat  and  hat ;  and  the  mark  of  race  is  plainly  to  be  noted 
in  his  intensity  of  look  and  his  subdued  patient  bearing. 
He  comes  of  a  stock  which  had  it  not  been  of  the  hardiest 
and  the  most  temperate  and  enduring  in  the  world,  would 
have  disappeared  a  century  ago.  On  Sunday  mornings, 
when  the  bells  are  sounding  round  about  him,  he  is  to  be 
met  with  lingering  (with  who  shall  say  what  inner  sense 
of  worship)  by  the  strange  shrubs  and  flowering  plants,  or 
standing  with  a  pathetic  look  of  momentary  satisfaction 
on  his  lean,  mobile  face,  to  mark  the  rare  glow  and  gush 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN.  27 

of  colour  made  by  the  blooms  in  a  "  ribbon"  device  of 
flowers  on  a  sunny  border  by  a  dark  background  of 
cedar.  But  come  and  see  what  his  forefathers  might 
have  called,  in  their  Scripture  phraseology,  "  the  remnant 
of  the  children  of  Israel ;"  the  old  inmates  of  that  French 
Hospital  founded  so  long  ago  when  De  Ruvigny  was  the 
"beloved  cousin"  of  George  I.,  and  Philippe  Menard 
preached  at  St.  James's ;  when  the  Duchess  de  la  Force 
brought  donation  after  donation  to  the  work,  and  Philippe 
Hervart,  Baron  d'Huningue  gave  ^"4,000,  all  in  one 
splendid  contribution,  to  the  building  fund.  Could  they 
have  seen  (who  knows  that  they  have  not  ?)  this  great 
French  chateau  rising  beyond  the  park  palings  in  a 
neighbourhood  fast  filling  with  houses,  but  still  open  to 
the  air  that  blows  from  the  Weavers'  Garden  and  from 
the  great  expanse  of  land  leading  towards  the  forest,  they 
would  have  recognised  the  familiar  style  of  those  grand 
mansions  which  in  France  succeeded  the  castles  of  the 
feudal  nobility  when  Henry  Ouatre  was  king.  The  high- 
pointed  roof  with  its  irregularly  picturesque  lines,  the 
quaint  towrers  and  spires,  the  slate  blue  and  purple,  and 
rosy  tints  of  colour  in  slope  and  wall  and  gable  ;  the 
various  combinations  of  form  and  hue  changing  with 
every  point  of  view,  make  this  modern  copy  of  the  old 
French  chateau  a  wonderful  feature  in  any  landscape, 
and  the  unaccustomed  visitor  seeing  it  as  it  stands  there 
in  its  own  ornamental  ground,  surrounded  by  a  quaint 
wall  decorated  in  coloured  bands,  wonders  what  can  be 
the  meaning  of  a  building  so  full  of  suggestion ;  while 
if  he  be  of  an  imaginative  turn,  he  may  fall  into  a  day- 
dream when  he  peers  through  the  gate  that  stands  by  the 
porter's  lodge. 

But  let  us  pass  through  this  gate,  and  so  up  to  the 


28  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS." 

entrance-hall,  and  we  shall  seem  to  leave  behind  us  not 
only  the  Weavers'  Garden,  but  most  things  English. 
The  hall  itself,  paved  with  encaustic  tile,  leads  to  a  flight 
of  broad',  shallow  steps,  beneath  an  arched  ceiling  of 
variegated  brick  and  two  screen  arches.  These  steps 
conduct  us  at  once  to  a  central  corridor,  extending  for  the 
entire  length  of  the  building,  and  rising  to  the  greatest 
height  of  the  open  roof  of  timber  with  its  lofty  skylights. 
In  front  of  us  is  a  double  stone  staircase,  one  branch 
being  for  the  old  ladies,  the  other  for  the  men ;  and  im- 
mediately at  the  foot  of  the  former  division  is  the  entrance 
to  the  refectory,  a  large  handsome  dining-hall,  where,  at 
two  long  tables,  this  wonderful  company  assemble,  only 
the  very  infirm  having  their  meals  carried  to  the  upper 
ward,  where  they  are  waited  on  by  paid  attendants- 
Separate  staircases  are  provided  for  the  servants  of  the 
establishment,  whose  rooms  are  in  the  tower  above  the 
main  wards — or  rather,  let  us  say,  principal  apartments, 
for  they  are  not  so  much  wards  as  a  series  of  twenty-two 
large  bedrooms,  linen-rooms,  and  two  bath-rooms.  The 
steward  of  the  hospital,  a  venerable  gentleman  with  the 
courteous  air  and  speech  of  some  seneschal  of  olden 
time,  has  also  his  own  apartments,  reached  by  a  third 
stair,  his  sitting-room  and  office  occupying  a  space  close 
to  the  entrance.  On  the  right  of  the  main  staircase  and 
at  the  end  of  the  corridor  is  the  ladies'  sitting-room,  a 
fine  high-windowed  light  and  lofty  place,  admirably 
warmed,  as  indeed  all  the  building  is,  and  so  furnished 
that  at  each  large  square  table  four  old  ladies  can  sit  and 
have  not  only  ample  space  for  books  or  needlework,  but 
on  her  right  hand  each  can  open  a  special  separate  table- 
drawer  with  lock  and  key,  wherein  to  keep  such  waifs 
and    strays — shreds,   patches,  skeins,  and  unconsidered 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN.  29 

trifles — as  children  and  old  women  like  to  accumulate. 
There  is  another  day-room  beside  this,  and  a  similar, 
though  not  quite  so  large  an  apartment  is  provided  for 
the  men,  both  rooms  being  furnished  with  sundry  books 
and  a  few  sober  periodicals  of  the  day. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  though  that  many  of  the  old 
gentlemen  have  grown  accustomed  to  the  use  of  tobacco, 
and  here  in  the  basement  is  a  smoking-room,  quite  out 
of  the  way  of  the  ordinary  sitting  and  dining-rooms,  and 
not  far  from  the  laundry  and  drying-rooms,  which  form 
an  important  part  of  the  establishment. 

But,  hush !  there  is  a  hymn  sounding  yonder  in  the 
refectory  ;  a  hymn  sung  by  voices,  many  of  which  are  yet 
fresh  and  clear,  though  the  singers  number  more  than 
eighty  years  of  life,  and  of  life  that  has  often  been  hard 
and  full  of  heaviness. 

It  is  the  grace  before  meat,  and  the  hot  joints,  with  the 
fresh  vegetables  from  their  own  garden,  have  just  come 
up  from  the  big  kitchen  by  means  of  a  lift  to  the  serving- 
room. 

There  are  no  servants  to  wait  at  table,  and  the  family 
dinner-party  is  a  private  one,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  custom 
here  for  the  most  active  of  the  inmates  to  a^ree  among: 
themselves  who  shall  be  butler,  or  bemifetiere,  for  each  day 
during  the  week.  So  the  dinner-time  goes  pleasantly 
and  quickly,  the  meat,  the  vegetables,  and  the  capital 
household  beer,  of  which  each  man  has  a.  pint  twice  a 
day,  and  each  woman  half  a  pint,  being  the  only  articles 
that  require  serving. 

The  good  old-fashioned  family  custom  of  everybody 
having  his  or  her  own  teapot  is  observed  here.  A  great 
gas-boiler  stands  on  one  side  the  refectory,  and  a  row  of 
convenient  lockers  on  the  other;  and  each  inmate  has 


30  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS." 

tea  and  coffee  from  the  stores,  while  bread  and  butter  are 
also  served  out  for  consumption  according  to  each  indi- 
vidual fancy,  and  not  in  rations  at  each  meal  time.  Thus 
those  old  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  have  spending  money, 
or  friends  to  bring  them  some  of  the  little  luxuries  that 
they  so  keenly  appreciate,  can  add  a  relish  to  their  break- 
fast or  to  the  evening  beer. 

We  will  not  go  in  while  they  are  at  dinner,  for  there 
are  those  here  yet  who  "  might  have  been  gentlefolk " 
but  for  the  mutability  of  mortal  affairs.  Stay !  here 
come  the  old  ladies,  with  old-fashioned  curtseys,  which  are 
more  than  half  a  bow,  and  not  a  mere  vulgar  "bob." 
There  is  no  mistaking  some  of  their  faces.  You  may  see 
their  like  in  French  pictures,  or  in  old  French  towns  still. 
Some  of  them  with  eyes  from  which  the  fire  had  not  yet 
died  out ;  with  deftly-moving  fingers  ;  with  a  quick, 
springy  step ;  with  an  inherited  remnant  of  the  French 
moiie  and  shrug,  as  they  answer  a  gentle  jest  about  their 
age  and  comeliness. 

"  Eighty-four ;  and  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  I  don't 
seem  to  see  so  well  in  the  dark  as  I  used.  When  I  went 
,jout  to  see  my  brother-in-law,  I  was  quite  glad  he  came 
part  of  the  way  home  with  me." 

"  Turned  eighty,  but  I  can't  get  upstairs  as  I  used  to 
do." 

"You  speak  French,  madame  ?" 

"  Pas  beaucoup,  monsieur ;"  this  from  one  of  the  only 
two  actual  French  women  now  in  the  establishment,  the 
rest  being  lineal  descendants  only.  The  oldest,  who  is 
now  going  quietly  and  with  a  very  pretty  dignity  out  of 
the  refectory,  is  ninety-four,  and  can  not  only  hear  a 
low-toned  inquiry,  but  answers  it  in  a  soft,  pleasant 
voice.     She  bears  the  weight  of  years  bravely,  but  the 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN.  3r 

burden  has  perhaps  been  heavy  ;  and  she  speaks  in  a 
mournful  tone,  as  one  looking  forward  to  a  mansion 
among  the  many — to  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  may 
sometimes  speak  when  even  the  grasshopper  becomes  a 
burden. 

As  to  a  young  person  of  sixty-five  or  thereabout,  no- 
body regards  her  as  having  any  real  business  to  mention 
such  a  trifling  experience  of  life ;  while  of  the  men — - 
most  of  whom  semed  to  have  filed  off  for  their  pipe  or 
newspaper — one  remains  finishing  his  dinner,  for  he  has 
been  on  duty  for  the  day,  and  is  now  winding  up  with  a 
snack  of  bread-and-butter  and  the  remainder  of  his  mug 
of  porter — a  stoutly- built,  hale,  stalwart-looking  gentle- 
man, who,  sitting  there  without  his  coat,  which  hangs  on 
the  back  of  a  chair,  might  pass  for  a  retired  master 
mariner,  or  a  representative  of  some  position  requiring 
no  little  energy  and  endurance.  I  fancy,  for  the  moment 
that  he  must  be  an  official  appointed  to  serve  or  carve 
and  employed  on  the  establishment. 

"  Eighty-four,"  and  one  of  the  old  weaving  colony  of 
Bethnal  Green. 

There  can  be  no  mistake  about  it.  Every  inmate  pro- 
vides certificates  and  registers  enough  to  make  the  claim 
undoubted  ;  and  as  to  the  right  by  descent,  half  the 
people  here  carry  it  in  their  faces,  and  to  the  initiated, 
are  as  surely  French,  as  they  are  undoubtedly  weavers. 

The  morning  here  begins  with  family  prayers,  which 
the  steward  reads  from  a  desk  in  the  refectory,  and  so 
the  day  closes  also.  The  Sunday  services  are  in  the 
chapel,  and  such  a  chapel !  To  those  who  remember  the 
dim,  barely- furnished  room  in  the  old  building  at  St. 
Luke's,  this  gem  of  architectural  taste  and  simple  beauty 
at  the  end  of  the  main  corridor  comes  with  no  little  sur- 


32  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS? 

prise.  Its  beautiful  carved  stone  corbels,  mosaic  floor, 
and  charming  ornamentation  ;  its  broad  gallery  entered 
immediately  from  the  upper  floor,  so  that  the  feeble  and 
infirm  may  go  to  worship  directly  from  their  sleeping- 
rooms  ;  its  glow  of  subdued  colour  and  sobered  light 
from  windows  of  stained  glass ;  its  simple  decorations, 
and  its  spotless  purity,  are  no  less  remarkable  than  the 
plainness  which  characterises  the  general  effect.  It  is  to 
be  noticed,  too,  that  there  is  no  "  altar,"  but  "a  table;" 
that  neither  at  the  back  of  the  communion  nor  on  the 
carving  of  the  lectern,  nor  even  in  the  windows,  is  there 
to  be  seen  a  cross.  Where  the  Maltese  cross  would 
occur  amidst  the  arabesques  of  the  stained  glass,  we  see 
the  fleur-de-lis.  French  Protestantism,  has  perhaps,  not 
yet  lost  its  intense  significance,  at  all  events  here,  in  this 
chapel  where  the  service  of  the  Church  of  England  is  ob- 
served, and  an  ordained  clergyman  ministers  to  the  family 
•of  the  children's  children  of  the  ancient  persecuted  people 
of  Languedoc,  the  symbol  under  which  the  Protestants 
were  burned  and  tortured  and  exiled  has  no  place.  This  is 
probably  in  accordance  with  the  traditions  left  by  De 
Ruvigny,  by  Gastigny,  by  Menard,  and  by  their  succes- 
sors, whose  portraits  still  hang  in  the  fine  board-room  of 
the  new  "Providence." 

Of  course,  no  contributions  or  subscriptions  are  now 
asked  for  to  support  this  old  French  charity.  With  it 
are  associated  one  or  two  gifts  of  money,  such  as  that  of 
Stephen  Mounier  for  apprenticing  two  boys ;  and  the  be- 
quest of  Madame  Esther  Coqueau  for  giving  ten  shillings 
monthly  to  ten  poor  widows  or  maidens  ;  but  the  direc- 
tors do  not  seek  for  external  aid.  To  the  charity  when 
it  was  first  chartered  was  added  a  portion  of  the  accumu- 
lations  of  the   benefactions  of  the   French   Church  at 


WITH  THE  CHILDREN'S  CHILDREN.  33 

Norwich,  and  it  may  here  be  mentioned  that  at  Norwich, 
where  a  contingent  of  the  army  of  refugees  had  settled, 
the  Society  of  Universal  Goodwill  was  also  established 
by  Dr.  John  Murray,  a  good  physician,  who  strove  to 
extend  to  a  large  organisation  a  plan  for  relieving  dis- 
tressed foreigners.  This  was  but  ninety  years  ago,  and 
it  was  less  successful  than  its  promoter  desired,  so  that 
part  of  the  funds  accumulated  were  judiciously  handed  to 
another  admirable  society  in  London,  of  which  I  shall 
have  something  to  say,  "  The  Society  of  the  Friends  of 
Foreigners  in  Distress." 


-\ 


WITH  THE  STRANGER  IN  A  STRANGE  LAND. 


O  we  ever  try  to  realise  the  full  meaning  of 
the  declaration  that  they  who  are  afar  off 
shall  be  made  near  by  the  blood  of  Christ  ? 
Surely  it  does  not  stop  at  the  nearness  to  God 
by  redemption,  for  the  only  true  redemption  is  Christ- 
likeness,  and  nearness  to  God  assumes  nearness  to  each 
other  in  the  exercise  of  that  loving-kindness  which  is  the 
very  mark  and  evidence  of  our  calling. 

It  would  be  well  if  we  sometimes  ceased  to  separate 
by  our  vague  imaginations  "the  next  world,'''  or  "the 
other  world,"  from  the  present  world,  which  is,  perhaps 
in  a  very  real  sense,  if  we  could  only  read  the  words 
spiritually,  "  the  world  to  come  "  also  ; — as  it  is  obvious 
that  the  world  means  the  people  around  us — ourselves, 
those  who  are  near  and  those  who  seem  to  be  afar  off; 
and  no  world  to  come  that  could  dispense  with  our  identity 
would  be  of  any  particular  significance  to  us  as  human 
beings. 

Let  us  then,  for  the  present  purpose,  try  to  see  how 
effectually  Christ-likeness  should  bring  near  to  us  those 
who  are  afar  off,  by  taking  us  near  to  them  ;  how  He  who 
came  not  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil,  looks  to  us  to  entertain 
strangers  ;  and  to  "  be  careful "  in  the  performance  of 


WITH  THE  STRANGER  IN  A  STRANGE  LAND.      35 

that  duty,  as  to  Him  who  will  say  either,  "  I  was  a 
stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in,"  or  the  reverse. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  French  Protestant  organisation,  there 
existed  in  London  no  established  association  for  the 
relief  of  destitute  foreigners  who,  having  sought  a  refuge 
here,  or  being,  as  it  were,  thrown  upon  our  shores,  were 
left  in  distress,  hunger,  or  sickness, — unheeded,  only 
obtaining  such  temporary  casual  relief  as  a  few  charitable 
persons  might  afford,  if  by  any  chance  their  necessities 
were  made  known  to  them.  At  that  time  the  foreign 
Protestant  clergy,  to  whom  alone  many  of  these  destitute 
men  and  women  could  apply  for  relief,  were  themselves 
mostly  the  poor  pastors  of  congregations  consisting 
either  of  refugees  or  of  artisans  and  persons  earning  their 
livelihood  by  precarious  labour  connected  with  the  lighter 
ornamental  manufactures.  The  means  at  their  disposal 
for  charitable  purposes  outside  their  own  churches  were 
consequently  very  small,  and  they  were  unable  to  render 
any  really  effectual  assistance,  even  if  they  could  have 
undertaken,  what  would  at  that  time  have  been  the  diffi- 
cult task  of  verifying  the  needs  for  which  relief  was 
claimed. 

Some  attempt  had  already  been  made  by  Dr.  John 
Murray,  a  good  physician  of  Norwich,  to  extend  to  Lon- 
don the  benefits  of  his  "  Society  of  Universal  Goodwill ;" 
but  the  scheme  had  been  only  partially  successful.  To 
him,  however,  the  credit  is  due  of  having  striven  to  give 
definite  shape  to  an  association  which  was  afterwards  to 
take  up  the  good  work  of  caring  for  strangers.  The 
foreign  Protestant  clergy  settled  in  London  met  to  con- 
sider how  they  might  best  organise  a  regular  plan  for 
relieving  the  wants  of  those  who  had  so  often  to  apply  to 

3—2 


6  "  ABOUT  M  Y  FA THER'S  BUSINESS:' 


them  in  vain  ;  and  having  settled  the  preliminaries,  which 
were  heartily  approved  by  several  foreign  merchants,  and 
others,  who  were  willing  to  assist  in  any  scheme  that 
would   include  inquiry  into  the  circumstances  of  those 
who  sought  assistance,  called  a  public  meeting  in  order 
to  found  a  regular  institution.     This  was  on  the  3rd  of 
July,  1806,  and  the  result  of  the  appeal  was  the  forma- 
tion of   the  society  of  "The  Friends  of  Foreigners  in 
Distress."     By  the  following  April,  a  committee  had  been 
formed  and  the  Charity  was  in  working  order,  nor  were 
funds  long  wanting  with  which  to  commence  the  work  in 
earnest.     The  cases  requiring  relief  were  so  numerous, 
however,  and  the  demands  on  the  society's   resources 
♦were  so  constant,  that  though  some  large  donations  were 
afterwards  obtained  from  senates,  corporations,  wealthy 
merchants,  ambassadors,    noblemen,   and    Royal   bene- 
factors, a  considerable  subscription  list  became  necessary 
in  order  to  enable  the  society  to  grant  even  partial  relief 
to  cases,  the  urgent  claims  of  which  were  established  by 
careful  inquiry. 

There  is  a  wonderful  suggestiveness  in  the  list  of 
"  Royal  Benefactors  (deceased),"  headed  by  his  late 
Majesty  King  William  IV.,  and  her  late  Majesty  the 
Queen  Dowager  Adelaide.  More  ■ than  one  of  the 
Royal  donors  themselves  died  in  exile ;  and  several  of 
those  who  shared  their  misfortunes,  and  were  their 
faithful  followers,  have  shared  the  small  benefits  which 
the  Society  had  to  bestow.  "His  late  Majesty  King 
Charles  X.  of  France "  contributed  £300  ;  "  His  late 
Majesty  Louis  Philippe,"  100  guineas;  the  unfortunate 
Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Mexico,  £25  ;  and  his  late 
Imperial  Majesty  Napoleon  III.,  £50:  while  their 
Magnificencies  the  Senates  of  the  Free  German  Towns, 


WITH  THE  STRANGER  IN  A  STRANGE  LAND.  37 

as  well  as  the  humbler  companies  of  London's  citizens, 
appear  to  have  given  liberally.  Notwithstanding  all  this, 
however,  the  Society  has  not  been  able  to  retain  funded 
property  to  any  considerable  amount,  and  it  is  to  the 
annual  subscription  list — to  which  our  Queen  contributes 
.£100,  the  Emperor  of  Germany  £  100,  and  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria  £100 — that  the  charity  must  look  for 
support. 

Unhappily  there  are  evidences  that  these  annual  sub- 
scriptions are  fewer  than  they  should  be.  There  seems 
still  to  be  some  reluctance  on  the  part  of  the  general 
public  steadily  to  support  an  effort  which  has  a  very  dis- 
tinct and  pressing  claim  upon  Englishmen,  who  pride 
themselves,  justly  enough,  upon  the  free  asylum  which 
this  country  affords  to  foreigners,  and  who  appear  ready 
to  give  largely  in  the  way  of  occasional  aid.  The  dis- 
parity between  the  number  of  handsome  donations  and 
of  very  moderate  annual  subscriptions  is  a  painful  feature 
of  the  Society's  report,  and  even  public  appeals  have 
hitherto  been  followed  rather  by  increased  applications 
from  persons  recommending  cases  for  relief,  without 
accompanying  the  recommendation  with  a  sicbscription,  than 
by  any  decided  augmentation  of  the  funds.  The  Friends 
of  Foreigners  in  Distress  are  principally  to  be  found 
amongst  prosperous  foreigners  in  London,  and  doubtless 
this  is  no  less  than  just ;  but  until  larger  aid  is  given  by 
the  English  public,  we  have  no  particular  reason  to 
include  this  association  in  any  boastful  estimate  of 
British  charity. 

That  the  committee  does  its  work  carefully,  and  that 
cases  of  distress  are  relieved  only  after  due  inquiry,  and 
with  no  such  careless  hand  as  would  encourage  idle  de- 
pendence or  promote  pauperism,  is  evident  enough  to 


38  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS." 

anybody  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  inquire  into  the 
method  of  assistance.     Let  us  go  "and  see. 

Perhaps  not  one  Londoner  in  a  thousand  could  tell 
you  ofihand  where  to  find  Finsbury  Chambers.  It  is 
probably  less  known  even  than  Prudent  Passage,  or  what 
was  once  Alderman's  Walk ;  and  may  be  said  to  be  less 
attractive  than  either,  for  it  is  a  dingy,  frowsy,  little  out- 
of-the-way  corner  in  that  undecided  and  rather  dreary 
thoroughfare — London  Wall.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  space 
without  any  outlet,  and  looks  as  though  it  ought  to  have 
been  a  builder's  yard,  but  that  the  builder  took  to  erect- 
ing houses  on  it  as  a  speculation  which  never  answered, 
even  though  they  were  let  out  as  "  chambers  ;"  that  is  to 
say,  as  blank  rooms  and  sets  of  offices,  the  supposed 
occupiers  whereof  committed  themselves  to  obscurity  by 
causing  their  names  to  be  painted  on  the  doorposts,  and 
leaving  them  there  to  fade  till  time  and  dirt  shall  wholly 
obliterate  them. 

And  yet  it  is  in  one  of  these  lower  rooms,  occupying 
the  ground  floor  of  No.  10,  that  a  good  work  is  going  on ; 
for  here,  in  an  office  almost  representatively  bare  and 
dingy  even  in  that  place,  the  Society  of  Friends  of 
Foreigners  in  Distress  holds  its  weekly  meetings  of 
directors,  and  the  secretary,  Mr.  William  Charles  Laurie, 
or  his  assistant,  Mr.  C.  P.  Smith,  gives  daily  attendance 
(Saturdays  excepted),  between  eleven  and  one  o'clock. 
Assuredly,  the  funds  of  the  charity  are  not  expended  in 
luxurious  appointments  for  its  headquarters.  Even  a 
German  commission  agent  just  commencing  business 
could  scarcely  have  a  more  simply-furnished  apartment. 
The  objects  which  first  strike  the  visitor's  attention  area 
row  of  japanned  tin  candlesticks,  meant  for  the  use  of  the 
board  at  any  of  their  Wednesday  meetings  which  may* 


WITH  THE  STRANGER  IN  A  STRANGE  LAND.   39 

be  prolonged  till  after  dusk.  The  furniture,  if  it  was 
ever  new,  must  have  been  purchased  with  a  regard  for 
economy  in  the  very  early  history  of  the  society.  The 
work  is  evidently  so  organised  as  to  require  no  long 
daily  attendance.  The  place  is  furnished  only  according 
to  the  temporary  necessities  of  business  quickly  dis- 
patched. Neither  in  official  salaries,  nor  in  expensive 
official  belongings,  are  the  funds  of  the  institution 
wasted. 

The  system  is,  in  fact,  simple  enough,  and  is  conducted 
on  the  principles  laid  down  by  the  first  meetings  of  the 
committee  above  seventy  years  ago,  with  one  important 
exception.  Formerly,  applicants  for  relief  must  have 
been  for  some  time  resident  in  England  ;  but  changes  in 
transit,  and  the  more  rapid  intercommunication  of  nations, 
have  made  it  necessary  that  some  ready  aid  should  be 
granted  to  those  who  find  themselves  cast  upon  the 
terrible  London  wilderness  without  a  friend  to  help  them, 
ignorant  to  whom  to  apply  for  help,  and  little  able  even 
to  make  known  their  sufferings. 

Every  Wednesday,  then,  the  directors  meet  for  re- 
ceiving applications  for  relief,  and  reports  of  cases  that 
have  been  investigated  by  the  Visiting  Committee. 

The  plan  adopted  is  to  issue  to  the  governors  of  the 
charity  a  number  of  small  tickets,  each  of  which,  when 
signed  and  bearing  the  name  of  the  applicant  for  relief, 
entitles  the  latter  to  apply  to  the  weekly  committee  for 
an  investigation  of  his  case.  Every  subscriber  of  a 
guinea  is  regarded  as  a  governor  for  a  year,  and  there 
are,  of  course,  life  governors  also.  Both  these  are  en- 
titled to  recommend  cases  either  for  what  may  be  termed 
casual  relief,  or  for  election  as  pensioners  to  receive 
weekly  assistance  (of  from   2s.  to   $s.f   and   in  cases   of 


40  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS:1 

extreme  old  age  or  great  infirmity,  Js.  6d.  a  week), 
sick  allowances,  or  passage  money  to  enable  applicants  to 
return  to  their  own  country. 

It  may  easily  be  believed  how  a  small  weekly  con- 
tribution will  often  save  a  destitute  man  or  woman, 
or  a  poor  family,  from  that  utter  destitution  which 
would  result  from  the  inability  to  pay  rent  even  for  a 
single  room ;  while  in  cases  of  sickness,  the  regular 
allowance  even  of  a  very  trifling  sum  will  enable  many 
a  poor  sufferer  to  tide  over  a  period  of  pain  and  weakness, 
during  which  earnings,  already  small,  are  either  reduced 
or  cease  altogether. 

In  cases  of  urgent  necessity  four  superintendents  are 
appointed  from  the  board  of  directors,  with  the  power 
to  grant  immediate  relief ;  and  of  course  many  applicants 
receive  temporary  assistance  from  the  governor  who  re- 
commends them,  until  their  case  is  investigated  by  the 
committee,  and  they  are  on  the  list  of  the  worthy  and 
indefatigable  "  visitor." 

After  the  expulsion  of  the  Germans  from  Paris  during  the 
late  war,  that  little  dingy  quadrangle  in  London  Wall  was 
filled  with  a  strange  crowd  of  lost  and  helpless  foreigners, 
whose  condition  would  admit  of  only  a  temporary  inquiry, 
and  indeed  needed  little  investigation,  since  want  and 
misery  were  written  legibly  enough  in  their  faces.  For 
a  large  number  of  these,  passage  money  had  to  be  paid, 
and  the  relief  was  continued  till  the  press  of  refugees 
from  France  abated.  There  was  a  special  subscription 
for  the  relief  of  these  poor  creatures,  raised  chiefly 
among  German  merchants  living  in  London,  and  even 
now  the  Society  has  to  extend  a  helping  hand  to  some 
who  still  remain. 

Any  one  wandering  by  accident  into  Finsbury  Buildings 


WITH  THE  STRANGER  IN  A  STRANGE  LAND.   41 

on  a  Wednesday  forenoon,  would  wonder  what  so  many- 
subdued  and  rather  anxious-looking  men  were  waiting 
about  for  in  such  an  out-of-the-way  locality — some  of 
them  leaning  against  the  wall  inside,  others  sitting  in  the 
bare  room,  just  within  the  barer  passage.  Every  one  of 
these  has  had  his  circumstances  carefully  inquired  into, 
and  is  in  attendance  to  receive  what  may  be  called  tempo- 
rary relief.  During  the  official  year  of  my  latest  visit  150 
homeward  passages  had  been  paid,  and  in  the  two  years 
from  1 87 1  to  1 873  the  number  of  persons  who  received  relief 
was  21,333,  wno  with  their  wives  and  families  represented 
a  considerable  community  of  poverty.  During  the  year 
1,983  grants  were  made  of  sums  varying  from  less  than 
10s.  to  1,324  persons,  10s.  to  431,  i$s.  to  47,  £1  to  135, 
and  so  on  to  £5,  which  was  allowed  in  a  few  instances, 
while  sick  allowances  were  granted  in  292  cases.  One  im- 
portant and  suggestive  feature  of  this  excellent  Society  is 
that  it  numbers  amongits  members  not  only  subscribers  to 
other  charitable  institutions,  but  members  of  the  medical 
and  legal  professions,  who  frequently  render  their  aid 
to  applicants  free  of  expense,  in  order  either  to  relieve 
them  from  suffering,  or  to  protect  them  from  the  errors 
or  impositions  to  which  their  ignorance  and  helplessness 
might  expose  them. 

There  is  no  restriction  either  as  regards  creed  or 
nationality,  and  though  each  case  is  matter  for  inquiry, 
the  only  persons  disqualified  for  receiving  relief  are  those 
who  are  detected  as  impostors — persons  who  are  deemed 
to  have  sufficient  support  from  any  other  source,  those 
who  cannot  give  a  good  reason  for  having  come  to  this 
country,  and  proof  of  their  having  striven  to  obtain  work 
and  to  labour  for  a  maintenance,  those  who  are  proved 


42  "  ABOUT  M  Y  FA THERS  BUSINESS:1 

to  have  been  guilty  of  fraud  or  immoral  practices,  and 
beggars,  or  drunken,  dissolute  persons. 

As  regards  the  numbers  of  persons  who  have  received 
relief  since  the  institution  was  founded,  there  is  the 
tremendous  total  of  21, 645  applicants  on  behalf  of  129,299 
individuals.  What  an  army  it  represents!  Of  these 
Germany  (which  till  recently  included  Austria,  Hungary, 
and  Bohemia)  represents  71,913  ;  Sweden  and  Norway,. 
9,422;  Holland,  8,SyS  ;  France,  7,339;  Russia,  7,006;. 
Italy,  5,415  ;  Belgium,  4,578  ;  Denmark,  4,215  ;  the  West 
Indies,  1,716;  Switzerland,  1,685;  and  so  on  in  a 
diminishing  proportion  till  we  come  to  "  Central  Africa  !" 
—a  very  recent  case,  no  doubt. 

Can  any  one  question  the  good  that  has  been  effected 
by  an  institution  so  careful  not  only  to  relieve  with  rigid 
economy,  but  also  to  do  its  work  on  so  truly  voluntary  a 
principle  ?  If  the  temporary  and  comparatively  casual 
aid  afforded  to  poor  and  destitute  strangers  works  so 
beneficially,  however,  the  pensions,  to  which  only  very 
extreme  cases  are  elected,  are  even  still  more  in  the 
nature  of  help  given  to  those  who  are  ready  to  perish, 
Here  are  some  specimen  cases : 

A  watchmaker  of  Frankfort,  seventy-four  years  old, 
and  nearly  seventy  years  in  this  country,  disabled  by 
paralysis,  with  a  wife,  who  'is  a  waistcoat  maker,  unable 
to  compete  with  the  sewing-machine  ;  one  son,  twenty 
years  old,  who,  having  some  small  situation,  lives  with 
them,  pays  the  rent,  and  "  does  what  he  can  ;  "  a  boy  of 
fourteen  who  works  as  an  errand  boy. 

An  Italian  looking-glass  maker,  seventy-three  years 
old,  and  fifty- three,  years  in  this  country.  Has  lately 
lived  by  making  light  frames,  but  health  and  strength 
fail,  and  he  is   suffering   from   asthma.     His   wife,    an 


WITH  THE  STRANGER  IN  A  STRANGE  LAND.   43 

Englishwoman,  and  aged  sixty-six,  works  as  a  char- 
woman. He  has  two  sons,  each  married  and  with  large 
families,  so  that  they  can  do  nothing  for  him. 

A  French  widow,  sixty-seven  years  old,  and  thirty-two 
years  in  this  country,  and  paralysed  for  the  last  thirteen 
years.  Her  only  daughter  who  is  in  delicate  health,  earns 
her  "  living"  by  needlework,  but  can  only  gain  enough 
for  her  own  maintenance. 

These  are  only  three  of  the  first  cases  in  the  official 
report  of  pensioners,  and  they  are  not  selected  because 
of  their  peculiarly  distressing  character.  When  it  is 
remembered  that  this  society  has  not,  in  a  general 
way,  sufficient  means  to  grant  more  than  two  shillings 
a  week  in  the  way  of  relief,  and  when  we  take  the 
trouble  to  observe  that  in  the  majority  of  cases  where 
a  pension  is  granted  the  recipients  have  been  so  long 
resident  here  that  they  may  be  said  to  have  lost  their 
nationality  in  ours,  will  it  be  too  much  to  ask  of  England 
—  alike  the  asylum  for  the  persecuted  and  the  teacher  of 
liberty  and  of  charity — that  the  "  Friends  of  Foreigners  in 
Distress  "  shall  be  regarded  as  the  friends  of  all  of  us 
alike  in  the  name  of  Him  of  whom  it  was  said,  "  Can  any 
good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?" 

But  I  have  not  quite  done  with  the  pensioners.  I  must 
ask  the  reader  to  go  with  me  to  Lower  Norwood,  where 
amidst  a  strange  solitude,  that  is  almost  desolation,  we 
will  visit  three  ladies  of  the  aucien  regime,  one  of  whom, 
at  least,  began  life  nearly  ninety  years  ago  as  a  fitting 
playmate  for  the  daughter  of  a  king. 


WITH  THOSE   WHO  ARE  LEFT  DESOLATE. 

HERE  is  something  about  the  aspect  of  Nature 
as  seen  from  the  railway  station  at  Lower 
Norwood  on  a  damp  and  misty  day  which,  if 
not  depressing,  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as 
■conducive  to  unusual  hilarity.  I  speak  guardedly  because 
of  my  respect  for  the  district,  and  lest  I  should  in  any 
way  be  suspected  of  depreciating  any  particular  locality 
as  an  eligible  place  of  residence.  In  the  latter  regard  I 
may  mention  that  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Lower 
Norwood  Station  is  not  at  present  converted  into  a  small 
township  by  the  erection  of  long  rows  of  tenements  on 
freehold  or  long  leasehold  plots.  My  remarks  apply  only 
to  the  general  outlook  from  the  road,  amidst  an  atmo- 
sphere threatening  drizzle,  and  beneath  a  sky  betokening 
rain.  As  far  as  houses  are  concerned,  there  seemed  to 
me,  on  the  occasion  of  my  last  visit,  far  more  probability 
of  pulling  down  than  of  building.  In  fact,  I  went  for  the 
purpose  of  inspecting  a  whole  series  of  very  remarkable 
tenements  which  I  had  heard  were  soon  either  to  dis- 
appear from  the  oozy-looking  green  quadrangle  of  which 
they  formed  three  sides,  or  were  to  be  converted  to  another 
purpose  than  that  of  the  dwelling-places  of  a  few  elderly 
ladies  who  occupied  one  dreary  side,  whence  they  could 
look  at  the  desolation  of  the  closed  houses  on  the  other.* 

*  Since  this  was  written  the  Almshouses  have  been  closed,  and 
their  two  or  three  remaining  inmates  "  lodged  out." 


WITH  THOSE  WHO  ARE  LEFT  DESOLA  TE,      45 

It  will  not  be  without  regret  that  I  shall  hear  of  this 
intention  being  carried  out,  for  the  houses  are  devoted  to 
the  sheltering  of  alms-folk  ;  and  the  alms-folk  are  the 
elder  pensioners  of  that  admirable  association,  the 
Society  of  the  Friends  of  Foreigners  in  Distress,  which, 
for  above  ninety  years,  has  been  doing  its  useful  work 
among  those  who,  but  for  its  prompt  and  judicious  aid, 
would  feel  that  they  were  "alone  in  a  strange  land." 

As  a  part  of  its  original  provision  for  the  relief  of  some 
of  the  applicants  who,  after  long  residence  in  this 
country,  had  fallen  into  a  distressed  condition  at  an  age 
when  they  were  unable  any  longer  to  maintain  them- 
selves by  their  own  exertions,  the  society  instituted  the 
almshouses  at  Lower  Norwood.  There  is  now  an  im- 
pression among  the  directors  of  the  charity  that  their 
intentions  may  be  carried  out  in  future  by  some  better 
method  than  placing  a  number  of  aged  and  frequently 
infirm  persons  in  a  comparatively  remote  group  of  dwell- 
ings, where  they  are  peculiarly  lonely,  and  lack  frequent 
personal  attention  and  general  sympathy.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  almshouses  have  frequently  been  asso- 
ciated a  little  too  closely  with  that  monastic  or  con- 
ventual practice  with  which  they  mostly  originated,  and 
that  the  retirement,  almost  amounting  to  seclusion,  into 
which  the  inmates  of  such  places  are  removed,  may  be 
very  far  from  affording  to  the  aged  the  kind  of  asylum 
which  they  most  desire.  Alas,  in  many  instances,  to  be 
placed  in  an  almshouse  is  to  be  put  out  of  the  way, — to 
be  conveniently  disposed  of;  with  the  inference  that 
every  possible  provision  has  been  made  for  comfortable 
maintenance.  Thus,  susceptibilities  are  quieted.  The 
aged  pensioners  are  supposed  to  be  periodically  visited  ; 
their  wants  attended  to  by  somebody  or  other  who  "  sees 


46  "ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:' 

that  they  are  all  right,"  and  the  whole  matter  is  conveni- 
ently forgotten,  except  when  a  casual  traveller  passes  a 
quaint,  ancient,  mouldy-looking,  but  still  picturesque 
block  of  buildings,  and  inquires  to  what  charity  they  be- 
long ;  not  without  a  kind  of  uneasy  fancy  that  there  is  a 
custom  in  this  country  of  burying  certain  old  people 
before  their  time — shutting  them  out  of  the  light  and 
warmth  of  every-day  companionship  ;  or,  to  change  the 
metaphor,  making  organised  charity  a  kind  of  Hooghly, 
on  the  tide  of  which  the  aged,  who  are  supposed  to  be 
nearing  the  end  of  their  mortal  life,  are  floated  into 
oblivion  until  the  memory  of  them  is  revived  by  death. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  intention  to  represent  that  the 
almshouses  at  Lower  Norwood  bore  such  a  significance, 
but  the  conditions  to  which  I  have  referred  appear  to  be 
so  inevitable  where  places  like  these  are  concerned,  that 
I  cannot  question  the  good  sense  of  the  directors  of 
the  Charity  in  determining  to  supersede  them,  and  to 
carry  on  the  work  by  annual  or  monthly  pensions 
only.  On  behalf  of  the  few  remaining  inmates  of  these 
queer,  half-deserted,  and  failing  tenements,  it  was  desi- 
rable that  the  proposition  should  be  acted  on  at  once, 
and  a  more  comfortable  provision  be  made,  at  least, 
for  those  who  wait  on,  with  constantly  deferred  hope, 
doubly  heart- sickening  when  so  little  time  is  to  be 
counted  on,  in  which  something  will  be  done  before  the 
houses  themselves,  crumbling  to  decay,  become  but  a  type 
of  their  own  forlorn  old  age. 

It  is  with  some  such  thoughts  as  these  that  I  stand  at 
the  entrance  to  the  green,  with  last  year's  weedy  after- 
math still  dank  and  tangled  with  wind  and  rain.  The 
queer  little  one-storied  dark-red  houses  of  the  quadrangle 
bear  a  melancholy  resemblance  to  a  set  of  dilapidated 


WITH  THOSE  WHO  ARE  LEFT  DESOLATE.       47 

and  discarded  toys,  the  box  for  which  has  been  lost. 
They  are  built,  too,  on  a  kind  of  foreign-toy  pattern,  with 
queer  outside  staircases,  leading  to  street-doors  under  a 
portico,  which  is  the  only  entrance  to  the  upper  storey, 
the  lower  doors  in  the  quadrangle  communicating  only 
with  the  ground-floor.  The  crunch  of  my  footsteps  along 
the  moist  path,  gives  no  echo  ;  the  place  seems  to  be  too 
dull  and  lifeless  even  for  that  kind  of  response.  The  left 
wing  and  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  centre  block  are 
still  with  the  silence  of  desertion.  Peering  through  the 
dim  leaden  casements,  I  see  only  small,  bare,  empty 
rooms.  There  is  a  sense  of  mildew  and  of  dampjDlaster 
peeling  from  the  walls, — of  leaky  water-pipes,  and  a 
humid  chill,  which  no  glowing  hearth  nor  bright  July 
weather  could  utterly  subdue.  Such  is  the  feeling  with 
which  the  whole  place  strikes  me  on  this  leaden  wintry 
day,  when  the  vapour  from  the  engine  on  the  railway 
trails  slowly  upward  to  meet  the  ragged  edge  of  the  dun 
cloud  that  streams  slowly  downward  ;  when  a  big,  black 
dog  crouches  on  the  threshold  of  the  village  chandler's 
shop,  to  get  out  of  the  drizzle  ;  and  the  butcher,  who  has 
sold  out,  closes  his  half-hatch,  with  the  certainty  that  he 
may  take  his  afternoon  nap  by  the  fire,  undisturbed  by 
customers. 

Even  when  I  pause  before  one  of  the  little  narrow 
portals  to  which  I  have  been  directed,  there  are  few  more 
signs  of  life,  except  that  at  the  same  moment  I  hear 
other  footsteps  behind  me,  and  a  baker  stop  to  deliver  a 
loaf.  This  is  promising,  as  far  as  it  goes,  and  enables  me 
to  present  myself  unostentatiously,  under  cover  of  the 
baker's  basket,  to  a  lady  who  opens  the  door.  Unless  I 
am  greatly  mistaken,  that  lady  has  a  French  face,  and  as 
it  is  a  French  lady  for  whom  I  am  to  inquire,  I  begin  to 


48  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS.1' 

think  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  my  quest.  It  is  evident, 
however,  from  the  surprised  questioning  look  which 
greets  my  appearance,  that  visits  from  strangers  are  not 
of  very  frequent  occurrence  there.  I  can  trace  in  the 
rather  shrinking  recognition  accorded  to  my  request  to 
see  the  lady  to  whom  I  bring  an  introduction,  the  sensi- 
tiveness that  belongs  to  that  kind  of  poverty  which  has 
learned  to  endure  in  seclusion  reverses  that  would  be 
less  bearable  if  they  were  exposed  to  a  too  obtrusive 
expression  of  sympathy.  It  is  a  positive  relief  to  be  left 
alone  for  a  minute,  standing  in  that  narrow  lobby,  look- 
ing into  a  room  which  has  the  appearance  of  a  disused 
scullery,  while  my  errand  is  made  known  in  another  room 
on  the  right,  to  which  I  am  presently  bidden.  It  is  a 
poor  little  place  enough  ;  poor,  and  little,  and  dim,  even 
for  an  almshouse,  and  scarcely  suggestive  of  comfort 
though  a  bright  fire  is  burning  in  a  grate,  which  some- 
what resembles  a  reduced  kitchen-range,  and  though  the 
table  which  stands  beneath  the  casement  bears  some  pre- 
parations for  the  evening  meal,  and  the  cheap  luxury  of 
a  cut  orange  on  a  plate.  The  walls  are  dim,  the  ceiling 
cracked  and  discoloured  by  the  evident  overflow  of  water 
in  the  room  overhead ;  the  furniture  consists  of  a  kind 
of  couch  which  may  do  duty  for  a  bed  by  night,  and  of 
two  or  three  Windsor  chairs,  one  of  which  has  already 
been  placed  for  me.  It  is  a  poor  place  enough  ;  and  yet 
the  lady  to  whom  I  am  at  once  introduced  is  ready  to  do 
its  honours  with  a  grace  and  dignity  that  well  become 
her   appearance   and   her   name.       Madame   Gracieuse 

B ,  for  more  than  forty  years  resident  in  England, 

and  speaking  English  with  a  purity  of  accent  that  is  only 
rivalled  by  the  more  perfect  music  of  the  French  in  which 
she  addresses  me,  has  passed  the  threescore  years  and 


WITH  THOSE  WHO  ARE  LEFT  DESOLATE.        49 

ten  which  are  counted  as  old  age.  Yet  seeing  her  sweet, 
calm  face  ;  her  smooth,  broad,  intelligent  brow;  the  mild, 
penetrating  scrutiny  of  her  gentle  eyes  ;  the  soft  hair  put 
back  under  the  quaint  French  cap,  shaped  like  a  hood  ; 
those  years  remain  uncounted  ;  until,  with  a  pleasant 
smile,  only  just  too  placid  for  vivacity,  she  tells  how  she 
came  to  this  country  in  1830,  after  the  ruin  of  the  fortunes 
of  her  house  by  the  revolution  which  dethroned  Charles 
X.,  and  made  her  a  governess  in  England,  where  so  many 
of  the  old  nobility  sought  a  refuge  and  a  home. 

But  before  this  is'  said,  she  has  presented  me  to  a  third 
lady — to  whom,  indeed,  my  original  introduction  ex- 
tended— already  long  past  the  limit  of  that  short  period 
which  we  call  long  life  ;  for  she  is  more  than  eighty  years 
old,  and  by  reason  of  the  infirmity  which  has  lately  come 
upon  her,  does  not  rise  to  receive  me,  but  remains  seated 
in  the  couch  by  the  fire.  It  is  a  very  limited  space  in 
which  to  be  ceremonious  ;  but  were  this  lady  sitting  in 
one  of  a  suite  of  grand  rooms  in  some  aristocratic  man- 
sion, with  all  the  surroundings  to  which  her  birth,  her 
high  connections,  and  the  recollection  of  her  own  per- 
sonal accomplishments  entitle  her,  she  might  not  lack  the 
homage  which  too  often  only  simulates  respect. 

It  is  possible  that  she  may  long  ago  have  learned  to 
assess  it  at  its  true  value,  for  she  has  seen  it  at  a  court 
where  it  could  not  save  a  king  from  banishment ;  and  if 
we  may  judge  from  a  face  with  strong  determined  linea- 
ments, a  brow  of  concentrated  power,  and  eyes  the  light 
of  which  even  the  recent  paralysis  of  age  has  not  extin- 
guished, she  has  been  one  who  could  undergo  exile, 
poverty,  and  even  the  sadder  calamity  of  being  forgotten, 
with  a  wonderful  endurance. 

4 


50  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS." 

Yes,  Madame  la  Comtesse  Maria  de  Comolera,  friend 
and  fellow-student  of    that    Madame   Adelaide   whose 
name   has   become   historical,   when   your    father    was 
Monsieur  lTntendant  of  the  Due  d'Orleans,  and  when  you 
lived  within  the  atmosphere  of  the  French  court,  spending 
quiet  days  at  the  easel  in  your  painting-room,  or  prepar- 
ing the  delicate  pate  of  Sevres  porcelain,  on  which  to 
paint  the  roses  and  lilies  that  you  loved,  the  grim  visions 
of  exile  and  poverty  may  never  have  troubled  you.    When 
the  house  of  Bourbon  crumbled,  and  you  escaped  from 
the  ruin  it  had  made,  you  had  still  your  art  left  to  solace, 
if  not  to  gladden  you;  and  for  a  time  at  least  you  lived 
by  it,  and  took  a  new  rank  by  the  work  that  you  could 
do.     There  were  flowers  in   England,  and  your  hands 
could  still  place  their  glowing  hues  on  canvas.     Witness 
those  pictures  of  yours  that  now  hang  on  the  walls  of 
the  gallery  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  or  adorn  some  private 
collections.     Witness,  too,  the  recognition  of  some  of  our 
own  painters  when  Sir  Charles  Eastlake  was  president  of 
the  Royal  Academy,  and  when  you   found  a  friendly 
patron  in  Queen  Adelaide  of  gentle  memory.     Alas,  the 
nand  has  lost  its  cunning ;  and  if  its  work  is  not  alto- 
gether forgotten,  those  who  look  upon  it  are   unaware 
that  you  are  living  here  in  this  poor  room — pensioner  of 
a  charity  which,  were  it  but  supported  as  it  might  be, 
could  better  lighten  your  declining  years.     Yet  I  will  not 
call  you  desolate,  madame.     Two  faithful  friends  are  with 
you  yet.     The  sunset  of  your  calm  life,  whereof  the 
noon  was  broken  by  so  terrible  a  storm,  is  dim  enough  ; 
but  it  goes  not  down  in  complete  darkness.     Gentle  and 
admiring  regard  survives  even  in  this  dull  place  ;  and  with 
it  the  love  that  can  bring  tears  to  eyes  not  over  ready 

to  weep  on  account  of  selfish  sorrows,  and  can  move 


WITH  THOSE  WHO  ARE  LEFT  DESOLATE.        51 

ready  hands  to  tend  you  now  that  your  own  grow  heavy 
and  feeble  * 

As  I  become  more  accustomed  to  the  subdued  light  of 
the  room,  I  note  that  amidst  the  confusion  of  some  old 
pieces  of  furniture  or  lumber  there  are  pictures,  unframed 
and  dim,  leaning  against  the  walls.  One  of  them — a 
large  painting  of  some  rare  plant,  formerly  a  curiosity  in 
the  Botanical  Gardens  at  Regent's  Park,  v/hile  the  rest 
are  groups  of  flowers  and  fruit.  Just  opposite  me,  on 
the  high  mantel-piece,  the  canvas  broken  here  and  there 
near  the  edges,  obscured  by  the  dust  and  smoke  that 
have  dulled  their  surface,  are  two  oil-paintings  which  I 
venture  to  take  down  for  a  nearer  inspection.  Surely 
they  must  have  been  finished  when  madame  was  yet  in 
the  prime  of  her  art.  Exquisite  in  drawing,  delicate  in 
colour,  and  with  a  subtle  touch  that  gives  to  each  petal 
the  fresh  crumple  that  bespeaks  it  newly-blown,  and  to 
fruit  the  dewy  down  that  would  make  even  a  gourmet 
linger  ere  he  pressed  the  juice.  It  is  almost  pain  to  think 
that  they  are  left  here  uncared  for ;  and  yet,  who  knows 
what  influence  their  presence  above  that  dingy  shelf  may 
have  upon  the  wandering  thoughts  and  waning  dreams 
of  her  who  painted  them  when  every  new  effort  of  her 
skill  was  a  keen  delight  ? 

Nay,  even  as  I  hold  them  to  the  light,  and  in  a  pause 
of  our  chat  (wherein  Madame  la  Comtesse  speaks  slowly 
and  with  some  difficulty)  say  some  half-involuntary  words 
of  appreciation,  she  has  risen,  and  stands  upright  by  the  fire 
with  an  earnest  look  in  her  face  and  a  sudden  gesture  of 
awakened  interest.  The  artistic  instinct  is  there  still, 
after  more  than  eighty  years  of  life,  and  the  appreciation 

*  Since  these  lines  were  written,  Madame  Comolera  has  gone  to  her 
rest. 

4—2 


5 2  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS:' 

of  the  work  animates  her  yet.  Not  with  a  mere  vulgar 
love  of  praise  (for  Madame  is  still  la  Comtesse  Comolera 
even  though  she  spends  her  days  in  an  almshouse),  but 
with  a  recognition  that  I  have  distinguished  the  best 
of  the  work  that  is  left  to  her  to  show.  I  shall  not 
readily  forget  the  sudden  look  of  almost  eager  interest, 
the  effort  to  speak  generous  words  of  thanks,  as  I  bow 
over  her  hand  to  say  farewell,  and  feel  that  I  have  been 
as  privileged  a  visitor  as  though  madame  had  received 
me  in  a  gilded  salon,  at  the  door  of  which  a  powdered 
lacquey  stood  to  "  welcome  the  coming — speed  the  part- 
ing guest." 

And  so  with  some  pleasant  leave-takings,  and  not 
without  permission  to  see  them  again,  I  leave  these  ladies 
— the  fitting  representatives  of  an  old  nobility  and  an  old 
regime — to  the  solitude  to  which  they  have  retired  from  a 
world  too  ready  to  forget. 

If  by  any  means  for  the  solitude  could  be  substituted 
a  pleasant  retirement,  and  for  the  sense  of  desolation 
and  poverty  a  modest  provision  that  would  yet  include 
some  grace  and  lightness  to  light  their  declining  days,  it 
would  be  but  little  after  all. 


WITH  THEM  THAT  GO  DOWN  TO  THE  SEA  IN 
SHIPS. 

T  is  possible  that  those  portions  of  the  sacred 
history  which  have  reference  to  the  associa- 
tion of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  ships,  and 
the  wonderful  portions  of  the  great  narrative 
where  the  Divine  Voice  seems,  as  it  were,  to  come  from 
the  sea,  may  have  a  special  attraction  for  us  who  live  in 
an  island  and  claim  a  kind  of  maritime  dominion. 

Surely  the  words  "Lord,  save  me,  or  I  perish,"  and  the 
instant  response  of  the  outstretched  hand  of  the  Saviour 
of  men,  must  have  been  read  with  an  awful  joy  by  many 
a  God-fearing  sailor  on  the  homeward  voyage.  "  It  is  I, 
be  not  afraid,"  must  have  come  with  an  intensity  of  mean- 
ing to  many  a  heart  which  has  known  the  peril  of  the 
storm,  wherein  the  voice  of  man  to  man  has  been  almost 
inaudible. 

There  is  something  very  solemn  in  the  prayers  we  send 
up  for  those  at  sea.  "  Most  of  us  feel  a  heart-throb  when 
we  lie  awake  listening  to  the  mighty  murmurs  of  the 
wind,  and  waiting  for  the  shrill  shriek  with  which  each 
long  terrible  blast  gathers  up  its  forces — a  throb  which 
comes  of  the  sudden  thought  of  lonely  ships  far  out  upon 
the  ocean,  where  men  are  wrestling  with  the  elements, 


54  "ABO  UT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS:' 

and  looking  with  clenched  lips  and  straining  eyes  for  the 
lingering  dawn. 

Yet,  with  all  this,  it  is  a  national  reproach  to  us  that 
until  a  comparatively  recent  date  we  have  done  little  or 
nothing  for  our  sailors — little  for  those  who  have  been 
ready  to  maintain  the  old  supremacy  of  our  fleet — almost 
nothing  for  that  greater  navy  of  the  mercantile  marine  to 
which  we  are  indebted  for  half  the  necessaries  and  for 
nearly  all  the  luxuries  which  we  enjoy. 

A  national  reproach,  because  not  only  have  charitable 
provisions  for  destitute,  sick,  infirm,  or  disabled  sailors 
been  neglected,  but  subscriptions  demanded  by  the  State 
from  seamen  of  the  merchant  service  were  never  properly 
applied  to  relieve  the  distress  of  those  for  whom  they 
were  professedly  received.  Considerably  over  a  million 
of  money  has  been  contributed  by  merchant  seamen,  by 
deductions  of  sixpences  from  their  monthly  pay  for  the 
maintenance  of  Greenwich  Hospital,  and  in  addition  to 
this  there  have  been  accumulated  in  the  hands  of  the 
Government  the  examination  fees  of  masters  and  mates 
passing  the  Board  of  Trade  examination,  and  the  penny 
fees  paid  by  common  seamen  on  shipment  and  unship- 
ment,  while  the  unclaimed  wages  and  effects  of  seamen 
dying  abroad  are  calculated  at  about  ^"8000  a  year. 

Now  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Greenwich  Hospital 
was  originally  intended  to  include  merchant  seamen  in 
its  provisions,  for  the  preamble  to  the  original  scheme  of 
William  III.  recites,  "Whereas  the  King's  most  excellent 
Majesty  being  anxiously  desirous  to  promote  the  Trade, 
Navigation,  and  Naval  strength  of  this  Kingdom,  and  to 
invite  greater  numbers  of  his  subjects  to  betake  them- 
selves to  the  sea,  hath  determined  to  erect  a  hospital," 
&c.     For  this  purpose  sixpence  per  man  per  month  was 


WITH  THEM  THAT  GO  DOWN  TO  THE  SEA.    55 

to  be  paid  out  of  the  wages  of  all  manners  to  the  support 
of  the  Hospital,  and  every  seaman  was  to  be  registered. 
Why  ?  That  the  charity  might  be  "  for  the  relief,  benefit, 
•or  advantage  of  such  the  said  registered  Marines,  or 
Seamen,  Watermen,  Fishermen,  Lightermen,  Bargemen, 
Keelmen,  or  Seafaring  Men,  who  by  age,  wounds,  or 
other  accidents  shall  be  disabled  for  future  service  at 
sea,  and  shall  not  be  in  a  condition  to  maintain  them- 
selves comfortably ;  and  the  children  of  such  disabled 
seamen  ;  and  the  widows  and  children  of  such  of  them 
as  shall  happen  to  be  slain,  killed,  or  drowned  in  sea  ser- 
vice, so  far  forth  as  the  Hospital  shall  be  capable  to  re- 
ceive them,  and  the  revenue  thereof  will  extend." 

So  far  as  words  went,  therefore — and  subsequent  Acts 
of  Parliament  confirmed  them— Greenwich  Hospital  was 
open  to  all  registered  seamen.  The  fact  has  always  been, 
however,  that  it  was  barely  able  to  meet  the  claims  made 
by  the  disabled  and  infirm  sailors  of  the  Navy  alone,  and 
therefore  the  mercantile  marine  was  practically  excluded, 
while  the  payments  were  still  demanded. 

Now  let  us  see  what  past  Governments  did  for  the  re- 
lief of  those  old,  infirm,  or  disabled  men  who  having  "seen 
wonders  on  the  great  deep,"  came  home  and  sought  help. 

A  charitable  trust,  called  the  "Merchant  Seamen's 
Fund,"  had  been  established  by  merchants  and  ship- 
owners of  the  City  of  London,  who  gave  large  sums  to 
it,  in  order  to  try  to  make  up  for  the  injustice  by  which 
these  sailors  were  virtually  excluded  from  Greenwich 
Hospital,  to  which  the  men  of  the  mercantile  marine  still 
had  to  pay  sixpence  a  month.  By  a  remarkably  know- 
ing piece  of  legislation,  an  Act  was  passed  (the  20th  of 
George  II.)  which  incorporated  the  Merchant  Seamen's 
Fund,  appointed  president  and  governors,  and  gave  au- 


56  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS." 

thority  to  purchase  land  for  building  a  hospital,  to  help 
pay  for  which  another  sixpence  a  month  was  claimed 
from  the  pay  of  merchant  seamen  and  masters  of  mer- 
chant vessels. 

Not  till  the  year  1834,  by  an  Act  passed  in  the  reign 
of  William  IV.,  were  the  merchant  sailors  relieved  from 
■compulsory  payment  to  Greenwich.  They  had  contri- 
buted to  the  hospital  for  138  years  without  having  de- 
rived any  direct  benefit  from  it ;  and  though  they  were 
not  unwilling  to  subscribe  for  their  brethren  in  the  Royal 
Navy,  the  injustice  which  demanded  their  contributions, 
though  their  own  fund  was  inadequate  to  pay  for  the 
promised  building  for  which  it  was  intended,  became  too 
glaring  to  be  continued.  It  was  therefore  determined 
that  a  grant  of  ^"20^000  should  be  made  to  Greenwich 
Hospital  out  of  the  Consolidated  Fund,  and  that  the 
merchant  sailors  should  go  on  paying  their  shilling  a 
month  for  their  own  benefit  (masters  paying  two  shil- 
lings), and  that  a  provision  for  widows  and  children 
should  be  included  in  the  charity,  the  benefits  of  which 
were  to  be  extended  to  Scotland  and  Ireland. 

The  hospital  never  was  built.  The  Board  of  Trade 
taking  the  management  of  the  contributions,  appointed 
trustees,  who  were  altogether  incompetent,  and  did  their 
duty  in  a  perfunctory  or  careless  manner.  In  1850,  only 
.£20,000  was  distributed  among  old,  infirm,  and  disabled 
seamen,  while  ^"41,000  was  bestowed  on  widows  and  chil- 
dren ;  the  allowances  varying  at  different  ports  from  £1 
to  £7,  each  place  having  its  own  local  government.  Of 
course  a  collapse  came.  The  fund  was  bankrupt ;  and 
in  the  following  year  an  Act  was  passed  for  winding  it 
up — for,  says  the  Board  of  Trade  Report,  "  the  Govern- 
ment has  had  no  control  over  the  matter.     The  London. 


WITH  THEM  THAT  GO  DOWN  TO  THE  SEA.     57- 

Corporation  and  the  trustees  of  outports  could  not  by 
any  mangement  have  prevented  the  insolvency  of  the  fund,. 
as  long  as  they  were  guided  by  the  principles  which  the 

several  Acts  of  Parliament  laid  down the  whole 

system  was  vicious." 

By  the  winding-up  Act  of  1851  compulsory  contribu- 
tions ceased ;  but  those  who  chose  to  continue  to  sub- 
scribe voluntarily  might  do  so.  It  is  hardly  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  the  merchant  seamen  lost  confidence  in 
the  paternal  protection  of  the  Board  of  Trade.  A  few 
thousand  pounds  were  left  from  the  compulsory  contri- 
butions, and  when  this  came  to  be  inquired  for,  nobody 
knew  anything  about  it.  It  had  somehow  slipped  out 
of  the  estimates,  and  nobody  could  tell  what  had  become 
of  it. 

That  is  what  past  governments  have  done  for  poor 
mercantile  Jack. 

What  has  the  great  British  public  done  for  him  ?  Not 
so  very  much  after  all.  The  truth  is,  that  the  sailor,  who 
has  always  been  spoken  of  as  "so  dreadfully  improvi- 
dent," has  been  practically  regarded  as  being  most  self- 
helpful.  All  the  time  that  we  have  been  shaking  our 
solemn  heads,  and  lifting  up  our  hands  at  the  improvi- 
dence, the  folly,  and  the  extravagance  of  these  frequently 
underpaid  and  sometimes  overworked  men,  we  have 
made  even  the  help  that  we  were  willing  to  extend  to 
them  in  their  deeper  necessities  partially  dependent  on 
their  own  constant  and  regular  subscription  to  the  same 
end. 

Poor  improvident  Jack! — poor  thoughtless,  incorrigible 
fellow! — it  was  necessary  for  the  Government  of  his  coun- 
try to  look  after  him,  in  order  to  protect  him  against  his 
own  want  of  forethought,  and  the  result  has  been  to  run- 


58  "ABOUT  MY  FA THER'S  BUSINESS." 

the  ship  into  shoal  water,  and  go  hopelessly  to  wreck 
without  so  much  as  salvage  money. 

Jack  ashore  !  Don't  we  all  still  look  at  the  sailor  in  the 
light  of  the  evil  war-times,  when  the  king's  men  were  said 
to  draw  pocketsful  of  prize-money  and  to  spend  it  in  low 
debauchery  or  wild  wanton  folly  ?  Even  now  we  repeat 
the  stories  of  frying  watches  along  with  beefsteaks 
and  onions,  or  eating  bank-note  sandwiches.  Nay,  to 
this  day  in  the  fo'c's'le  of  merchant  vessels  some  of  the 
melancholy  old  songs  in  which  sailors  are  wont  to  satirise 
themselves  are  occasionally  sung,  telling  how 

"  When  his  money  is  all  spent, 
And  there's  nothing  to  be  borrowed  and  nothing  to  be  lent, 
In  comes  the  landlord  with  a  frown, 
Saying,  '  Jack  !  get  up,  and  let  John  sit  down, 
For  you  are  outward  bound.' " 

There's  a  world  of  meaning  in  that  grim  suggestive  sum- 
mary; but,  thank  God!  it  has  less  meaning  now  than  it 
once  had.  Until  quite  lately,  sailors  of  merchant  ships 
could  be  kept  for  days  waiting  to  be  paid,  and,  sickened 
with  lingering  for  long  weary  hours  about  the  office  of 
the  broker  or  agent  who  withheld  their  money,  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  harpies  who  were,  and  still  are  con- 
stantly on  the  look-out  to  plunder  them.  Men  with  all 
the  pure  natural  longing  for  home  and  reunion  with  those 
near  and  dear  to  them,  were  compelled  to  loiter  about 
the  foul  neighbourhood  of  the  dock  where  their  ship  dis- 
charged its  cargo,  lodging  in  some  low  haunt  with  evil 
company,  and  liable  to  every  temptation  that  is  rife  in 
such  places,  till  too  often  so  large  a  portion  of  their 
hardly-earned  wages  had  been  forestalled,  that  in  a 
dreary  and  desperate  madness  of  dissipation  they  were 
tempted  to  fling  away  the  small  balance  remaining  to 


WITH  THEM  THAT  GO  DOWN  TO  THE  SEA.    59 

them,  and  to  awake  to  reason  only  when,  naked  and 
nearly  destitute,  they  were  compelled  to  go  to  sea  again, 
with  a  slender  stock  of  clothes,  and  a  week's  board  and 
lodging  paid  for  with  advance  notes. 

From  long  confinement  and  monotony  on  shipboard, 
the  sailor  even  now  comes  to  a  sense  of  temporary  free- 
dom, giddy  with  the  unaccustomed  sense  of  solid  ground 
and  the  wild  toss  and  uproar  of  the  ocean  of  life  in  a 
great  city.  What  are  still  the  influences  which  in  many 
seaports  await  him  directly  his  foot  touches  the  shore, 
and  sometimes  even  before  he  has  come  over  the  vessel's 
side  ?  With  a  boy's  recklessness,  a  man's  passions,  and 
the  unwonted  excitement  of  possessing  money  and  bound- 
less opportunities  for  spending  it,  a  shoal  of  landsharks  are 
lying  ready  to  batten  on  him.  The  tout,  the  crimp,  and 
all  the  wretches,  male  and  female,  who  look  upon  him  as 
their  prey,  will  never  leave  him  from  the  time  when  they 
watch  him  roll  wonderingly  on  to  the  landing-stage,  till 
that  desperate  minute  when  he  flings  his  last  handful  of 
small  change  across  the  tavern  counter,  and  calls  for  its 
worth  in  drink,  since  "  money  is  no  use  at  sea." 

This  was  far  more  frequently  the  termination  of  mer- 
cantile Jack's  spell  ashore,  before  the  new  regulations  as 
to  prompt  payment  of  seamen's  wages  came  into  force. 
At  that  time  you  had  only  to  take  a  morning  walk  across 
Tower  Hill,  where  the  bluff  lay  figure  at  the  outfitter's 
door  stands  for  Jack  in  full  feather,  and  thence  to  America 
Square,  or  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Minories  and  Rose- 
mary Lane,  to  see  dozens  of  poor  fellows  lounging  list- 
lessly about  the  doors  of  pay-agents,  waiting  day  after 
day  at  the  street-corners,  with  an  occasional  visit  to  the 
public-house,  and  the  perpetual  consumption  of  "hard  ' 
tobacco.     It  was  easy  afterwards  to  follow  Jack  to  Rat- 


60  "  ABOUT  M  V  FA  THERS  BUSINESS? 

cliffe,  Rotherhithe,  Shad  well,  and  the  neighbourhood, 
where  his  "  friends  "  lay  in  wait  for  him  to  spend  the  even- 
ing ;  in  the  tap-rooms  of  waterside  taverns,  where  he  sat 
hopelessly  drinking  and  smoking  during  a  hot  summer's 
afternoon  ;  to  frowsy,  low-browed  shops  of  cheap 
clothiers,  to  hot,  stifling  dancing-rooms,  to  skittle-alleys 
behind  gin-shop  bars,  where  a  sudden  brawl  would  call 
out  knives,  and  the  use  of  a  "  slung-shot "  as  a  weapon 
would  make  a  case  of  manslaughter  for  the  coroner ;  to 
very  minor  theatres,  where  he  could  see  absurd  caricatures 
of  himself  in  the  stage  sailors,  dancing  hornpipes  unknown 
at  sea  ;  to  the  dreadful  dens  of  Bluegate  Fields  and  Tiger 
Bay — to  any  or  all  of  these  places  you  might  have  fol- 
lowed Jack  ;  and  may  even  yet  follow  his  fellows  who 
have  not  yet  been  redeemed  from  the  evil  ways  of  those 
bad  times,  when  there  were  no  homes  for  sailors  amidst 
the  bewildering  vice  and  misery  of  maritime  London,  and 
other  seaport  towns  of  this  great  mercantile  island. 

It  so  happened  that  I  made  my  first  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  one  real,  publicly  representative  "  Sailors' 
Home  "  in  Well  Street,  near  the  London  Docks,  after 
having  seen  Jack  under  several  of  the  terrible  conditions 
just  referred  to,  so  that,  with  this  painful  knowledge  of 
him  and  his  ways,  it  was  with  a  kind  of  delighted  sur- 
prise that  I  suddenly  walked  into  the  great  entrance- 
hall  of  the  institution,  where  he  and  his  fellows  were  sit- 
ting on  the  benches  by  the  wall  with  the  serious,  contem- 
plative, almost  solemn  air  which  is  (in  my  experience) 
the  common  expression  of  sailors  ashore,  and  during 
ordinary  leisure  hours.  There  they  were,  a  good  ship's 
crew  of  them  altogether,  sitting,  as  I  have  already  said, 
in  true  sailor  fashion — stooping  forward,  wrists  on  knees, 
lolling  on  sea-chests  and  clothes-bags,  taking  short  fore- 


WITH  THEM  THAT  GO  DOWN  TO  THE  SEA.    6r 

and-aft  walks  of  six  steps  and  a  turn  in  company  with 
some  old  messmate,  smoking,  growling,  chatting,  and 
generally  enjoying  their  liberty  ;  not  without  an  eye,  now 
and  then,  to  the  smart  officer  who  had  come  in  to  see 
whether  he  could  pick  up  a  brisk  hand  or  two  for  the 
mail  service. 

This  was  some  five  or  six  years  ago,  and  it  is  a  happy 
result  of  the  plan  on  which  the  Home  was  first  estab- 
lished (which  was  intended  ultimately  to  make  the  insti- 
tution self-supporting,  if  the  cost  of  building  were 
defrayed)  that  the  whole  scheme  has  been  so  enlarged 
since  that  time,  that  anybody  who  would  see  what  our 
mercantile  seamen  are  like,  may  now  go  and  see  them, 
in  a  largely  increasing  community,  in  this  great  insti- 
tution. So  many  come  and  go  and  reappear  at  in- 
tervals represented  by  the  length  of  their  voyages,  that 
10,120  officers  and  men  had  partaken  of  its  inestimable 
benefits  during  the  year  from  the  first  of  May,  1872,  to 
the  end  of  April,  1873. 

But  the  institution  itself  was  founded  in  earnest  faith, 
and  built  with  the  labour  that  is  consecrated  by  prayer. 
Both  to  the  Home  and  to  its  companion  institution, 
the  Refuge  for  Destitute  Seamen — we  will  pay  a  visit  on 
our  next  meeting. 


WITH  THEM  WHO  WERE  READY  TO  PERISH 

N  the  28th  of  February,  1828,  a  very  terrible 
calamity  happened  in  the  placeknown  as  Well- 
close  Square,  Whitechapel.  A  new  theatre 
called  the  Brunswick,  had  been  erected  there 
on  the  site  of  a  former  building,  known  as  the  Old  Royalty. 
It  had  been  completed  in  seven  months,  and  three  days 
afterwards,  during  a  rehearsal,  the  whole  structure  gave 
way  and  fell  with  a  crash,  burying  ten  persons  amidst 
the  ruins,  and  fearfully  injuring  several  others.  Such  a 
catastrophe  was  very  awful,  and  the  people  of  the 
neighbourhood  looked  with  an  almost  solemn  curiosity  at 
the  wreck  of  an  edifice  in  which  they  themselves  might 
have  met  with  death  suddenly. 

Very  soon,  however,  they  began  to  regard  the  heap  of 
ruins  with  surprise,  for  early  one  morning  there  appeared 
two  officers  of  the  Royal  Navy,  surrounded  by  a  gang  of 
labourers  with  picks  and  shovels,  and  before  these  men 
(some  of  whom  were  Irish  Roman  Catholic)  began  to 
work  they  listened  attentively  while  one  of  the  officers 
offered  up  an  earnest  prayer  to  God  for  a  blessing  on  the 
results  of  the  labour  they  were  about  to  undertake. 
Morning  after  morning  their  labour  was  thus  sanctified, 
and  evening  after  evening  it  was  celebrated  by  the  voice 
of  thanksgiving,  till  at  length  the  ground  was  cleared,  and 


WITH  THEM  WHO  WERE  READY  TO  PERISH.   63 

on  the  10th  of  June,  1830,  the  first  stone  of  a  new  build- 
ing was  laid.  The  building  was  to  be  a  Home  for  Sailors, 
and  as  a  necessary  adjunct  to  the  Home,  it  was  intended 
to  establish  a  Destitute  Sailors'  Asylum. 

The  two  naval  officers  were  Captain  (now  Admiral) 
George  C.  Gambier,  and  Captain  Robert  James  Elliot, 
now  gone  to  his  rest,  who  with  Lieutenant  Robert  Justice 
afterwards  Captain,  and  now  with  his  old  comrade,  in  the 
heavenly  haven,  had  been  seeking  how  to  ameliorate  the 
condition  of  seamen,  numbers  of  whom  were  to  be  seen 
homeless,  miserable,  and  frequently  half  naked  and  de- 
stitute, in  that  foul  and  wretched  neighbourhood  about 
the  Docks  and  beyond  Tower  Hill. 

The  task  was  a  difficult  one,  and  might  have  daunted 
less  brave  and  hopeful  men,  forit  was  intended  to  demolish 
the  piratical  haunts  where  the  enemies  of  the  sailor  lay  in 
wait  for  his  destruction ;  where  crimps  and  thieves  and 
the  keepers  of  infamous  dens  held  their  besotted  victims 
in  bondage,  while  they  battened  on  the  wages  that  had  been 
earned  during  months  of  privation  and  arduous  toil. 

It  was  necessary,  therefore,  first  to  provide  a  decent 
and  comfortable  lodging-house  for  the  reception  of  sailors 
coming  into  port, — aplacewhere  they  might  safely  deposit 
their  clothes  and  their  wages,  and  where  they  could  "look 
out  for  another  ship"  without  the  evil  intervention  of  crimps 
or  pretended  agents.  It  was  a  part  of  the  intended  plan 
also  to  establish  a  savings  bank,  for  securing  any  portion 
of  their  wages  which  they  chose  to  lay  by,  or  for  safely 
transmitting  such  sums  as  they  might  wish  to  send  to  their 
relations.  In  short,  the  design  was  to  provide  a  home 
for  the  homeless,  and  hold  out  helping  hands  to  those 
who  were  ready  to  perish. 


•64  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS." 

Those  ruins  of  the  theatre  stood  on  the  very  spot  for 
such  an  establishment,  and  the  two  captains,  Gambier  and 
Elliott,  began  by  buying  the  ground  and  the  wreck  that 
stood  upon  it,  not  by  asking  for  public  subscriptions,  but 
mostly  with  their  own  money,  to  which  was  added  a  few 
contributions  from  any  of  their  friends  who  desired  to 
join  in  the  good  work. 

It  is  impossible  to  use  more  earnest  or  touching  words 
than  those  in  which  the  late  Rear- Admiral  Sir  W.  E. 
Parry  spoke  of  the  labours  of  his  friend  and  fellow- 
supporter  of  the  Sailors'  Home,  in  an  address  to  British 
seamen  at  Southampton,  in  1853.  "And  now,"  he  said, 
"let  me  just  add  that,  from  the  first  moment  in  which 
Captain  Elliot  stood  among  the  ruins  of  the  Brunswick 
Theatre,  till  it  pleased  God  to  deprive  him  of  bodily  and 
mental  energy,  did  that  self-denying  Christian  man 
devote  all  his  powers,  his  talents,  his  influence,  and  his 
money,  to  this  his  darling  object  of  protecting  and  pro- 
viding for  the  comfort  of  sailors.  Connected  with  a 
noble  family,  and  entitled  by  birth,  education,  and 
station,  to  all  the  advantages  which  the  most  exalted 
society  could  give  hm,  he  willingly  relinquished  all,  took 
up  his  abode  in  a  humble  lodging,  surrounded  by  gin- 
shops,  near  the  i  Home  :'  denied  himself  most  of  the 
comforts,  it  may  almost  be  said  some  of  the  necessaries 
of  life,  in  order  the  more  effectually  to  carry  out  his 
benevolent  design ;  and  for  eighteen  years  of  self-denial 
and  devotion,  made  it  the  business  of  his  life  to  superin- 
tend this  institution." 

For  the  noble  officer  lived  to  see  the  building  for  which 
he  had  wrought  and  prayed,  complete  and  successful.  In 
1835  300  sailors  could  be  received  and  welcomed  there. 


WITH  THEM  WHO  WERE  READY  TO  PERISH.    65 

The  piratical  lairs  began  to  empty  of  some  of  those  who 
had  been  shown  a  way  of  escape,  and  the  good  work 
went  on.  In  the  adjoining  Seamen's  Church  the  con- 
gregation was  largely  augmented  by  the  boarders  from 
the  Sailors'  Heme,  while  the  Honorary  Chaplain  and  the 
Missionary  attached  officially  to  the  institution,  became 
not  only  parson  and  preacher,  but  friendly  adviser  and 
instructor,  ready  to  speak,  to  hear,  and  to  forbear.  The 
addition  of  a  book  depository,  where  various  useful  pub- 
lications may  be  purchased,  and  Bibles  are  sold  at  the 
lowest  possible  prices,  and  in  various  languages,  was  a 
valuable  auxiliary  to  moral  and  religious  instruction,  and 
at  once  increased  the  home-like  influences  of  the  place. 

The  institution  having  gone  on  thus  prosperously, 
under  the  direction  of  a  goodly  number  of  officers  and 
gentlemen,  added  to  its  possessions  by  acquiring  other 
plots  of  freehold  ground,  extending  backward  to  Dock 
Street;  and  in  1863  Lord  Palmerston  laid  the  stone  of 
an  entirely  new  block  of  building,  which  was  inaugurated 
by  the  Prince  of  Wales  in  1865,  since  which  time  502 
boarders  can  be  received,  each  being  provided  with  his 
separate  cabin. 

Since  the  opening  of  the  institution  in  1835  it  has 
received  246,855  seamen  of  various  countries  and  from 
all  parts  of  the  world.  Of  these  72,234  have  been  old  or 
returned  boarders,  and  most  of  them  have  conducted  their 
money  transactions  through  the  "  Home,"  and  have 
made  good  use  of  the  savings-bank. 

There  are  270  inmates  under  that  protecting  roof  as  I 
step  into  the  large  entrance  hall  in  Well  Street  to-day ; 
and  the  two  hundred  and  seventy- first  has  just  gone  to 
look  after  his  kit  and  sea-chests,  which  have  been  care- 
fully conveyed  from  the  Docks  by  one  of  the  carmen 

5 


66  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:' 

belonging  to  the  institution,  who  has  "  The  Sailors'  Home, 
Well  Street,"  worked  in  red  worsted  on  his  shirt,  and 
painted  on  the  side  of  the  van  from  which  he  has  just 
alighted. 

It  is  evident  that  our  friend  No.  271  has  been  here 
before,  for  he  knows  exactly  where  to  present  himself  in 
order  to  deposit  some  of  his  more  portable  property  with 
the  cashier  or  the  superintendent.  He  scarcely  looks 
like  a  man  who  will  want  an  advance  of  money,  for  he  is 
a  smart,  alert,  bright-eyed  fellow,  with  a  quiet  air  of  self- 
respect  about  him  which  seems  to  indicate  an  account  in 
the  savings-bank ;  but  should  he  be  "  hard-up/'  he  can 
ask  for  and  receive  a  loan  not  exceeding  twenty  shillings 
directly  his  chest  is  deposited  in  his  cabin.  Just  now  the 
chest  itself,  together  with  its  superincumbent  bundle, 
stands  against  the  wall  along  with  some  other  incoming 
or  outgoing  boxes,  more  than  one  of  which  are  associated 
with  brand  new  cages  for  parrots,  and  some  odd-shaped 
cases  evidently  containing  sextants  or  other  nautical  in- 
struments. There  is  a  whole  ship's  crew,  and  a  smart  one 
too,  in  the  hall  to-day;  while  a  small  contingent  occupies 
the  clothing  department,  where  one  or  two  shrewd  North- 
countrymen  are  being  fitted  each  with  a  "new  rig," 
knowing  well  enough  that  they  will  be  better  served  there 
than  at  any  of  the  cheap  outfitters  (or  the  dear  ones 
either)  in  the  neighbourhood.  Fine  blue  broadcloth, 
pilots,  tweeds,  rough  weather,  and  petershams  are  here 
to  choose  from  "  to  measure,"  as  well  as  a  wonderful  col- 
lection of  hats,  caps,  underclothing,  hosiery,  neckties, 
boots,  and  shoes  so  unlike  the  clumsy  specimens  that 
swing  along  with  the  tin  pots  and  oilskins  in  some  of 
the  little  low-browed  shops  about  the  district,  that  I 
at  once  discover  the  reason  for  the  smartness  and  general 


WITH  THEM  WHO   WERE  READY  TO  PERISH.    67 

neatly-fitted  look  of  most  of  the  men  and  lads  now  pacing 
up  and  down,  talking  and  smoking.  It  is  quiet  talk 
for  the  most  part,  even  when  half  a  dozen  of  the  inmates 
adjourn  to  the  refreshment-room,  where  they  can  obtain 
a  glass  of  good  sound  beer  (though  there  is  a  much  more 
general  appreciation  of  coffee)  and  sit  down  comfortably 
at  a  table  like  that  at  which  two  serious  mates  are 
already  discussing  some  knotty  point,  which  will  pro- 
bably last  till  tea-time. 

Tea-time  ?  There  is  the  half-past  five  o'clock  signal 
gong  going  now,  and  light  swift  steps  are  J:o  be  heard 
running  up  the  stairs  into  the  large  dining-hall,  where  the 
two  hundred  and  seventy-one,  or  as  many  of  them  as  are 
at  home,  sit  down  like  fellows  who  know  their  business 
and  mean  to  do  it.  It  is  a  pleasant  business  enough, 
and  one  soon  despatched  ;  for  there  are  so  many  big  tea- 
pots, that  each  table  is  amply  provided  by  the  alert 
attendants,  who  dispense  bread-and-butter,  watercresses, 
salads,  and  savoury  bloaters  and  slices  of  ham  and  tongue, 
the  latter  having  been  already  served  by  a  carver  who  is 
equal  to  the  occasion.  It  is  astonishing  how  quickly  the 
meal  is  over  when  its  substantial  quality  is  taken  into 
account ;  but  there  is  no  lack  of  waiters,  the  number  of 
attendants  in  the  building  being  sixty-five,  some  of  whom, 
of  course,  belong  to  the  dormitories  and  to  other  depart- 
ments. 

The  meals  here  are,  of  course,  served  with  the  utmost 
regularity,  and  without  limit  to  quantity.  Breakfast, 
with  cold  meat,  fish,  bacon,  and  general  "  relishes,"  at 
eight  in  the  morning  ;  dinner  at  one  :  consisting  of  soup, 
roast  and  boiled  meats,  ample  supplies  of  vegetables, 
occasional  fish,  stupendous  fruit-pies  and  puddings,  and 
a  good  allowance  of  beer.     After  tea  comes  a  substantial 

5—2 


"ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINE. 

snack  for  supper,  at  nine  o'clock,  and  the  doors  of  the  in- 
stitution are  kept  open  to  half-past  eleven  at  night;  those 
who  wish  to  remain  out  later  being  required  to  obtain  a 
pass  from  the  superintendent. 

Of  course  it  is  requested  that  the  boarders  come 
in  to  meals  as  punctually  as  possible ;  but  those 
who  cannot  conveniently  be  present  at  the  regular 
time,  can  have  any  meal  supplied  to  them  on  appli- 
cation. Indeed,  two  or  three  belated  ones  are  arriving 
now,  as  we  go  to  the  end  of  the  long  and  lofty 
refectory  to  look  at  the  crest  of  the  late  Admiral  Sir 
William  Bowles,  K.C.B.,  which,  supported  by  flags,  is 
painted  upon  the  wall,  as  a  memorial  of  a  gallant  officer 
and  a  good  friend  to  this  institution  and  to  all  sailors. 

Leaving  the  dining-hall,  we  notice  a  smaller  room,  set 
apart  for  masters  and  mates  who  may  desire  to  have  their 
meals  served  here  ;  and  on  the  same  extensive  storey  is 
a  large  and  comfortable  reading-room  well  supplied  with 
periodicals,  and  containing  a  capital  library  consisting  of 
entertaining  and  instructive  boc' 

T!:e  board-room  is  close  by,  and  is  of  the  size 
and  shape  to  make  an  excellent  mission-room,  where 
week-night  services  and  meetings  of  a  religious  character 
are  held,  and  well  attended  by  men  who,  having  seen  the 
wonders  of  the  Lord  upon  the  great  deep,  join  in  His 
reasonable  service  when  they  are  at  home  and  at  rest. 
This  vast  floor  also  contains  two  dormitories :  but 
most  of  the  sleeping  cabins  are  in  the  second  and  third 
floors. 

There  are  few  sights  in  London  more  remarkable  than 
these  berths,  which  are,  in  fact,  separate  cabins,  each 
closed  by  its  own  door,  and  containing  bed,  wash-stand, 
chair,  looking-glass,  towels,  and  ample  space  for  the  sea- 


WITH  THEM  WHO  WERE  READY  TO  PERISH.    69 

chest  and  personal  belongings  of  the  occupant.  The 
cabins  extend  round  a  large  area  rising  to  a  great  height, 
and  surrounded  above  by  a  light  gallery  reached  by  an 
outer  staircase,  round  which  are  another  series  of  berths 
exactly  resembling  the  lower  ones  ;  so  that  there  are,  in 
fact,  double,  and  in  one  or  two  dormitories  treble  tiers  of 
cabins,  and  the  upper  ones  may  be  entered  without  dis- 
turbing the  inmates  of  those  below.  One  of  the  three- 
decker  areas  is  of  vast  size,  and,  standing  in  the  upper 
gallery  and  looking  upward  to  the  lofty  roof,  and  then 
downward  to  the  clear, wide,  open  space  between  the  lower 
rooms,  the  visitor  is  struck  by  the  admirable  provision 
both  for  light  and  ventilation  ;  the  former  being  secured 
at  night  by  means  of  properly  distributed  gas  jets,  which 
are  of  course  under  the  care  of  the  night  attendants,  who 
are  on  watch  in  each  dormitory,  and  may  be  summoned 
at  once  in  case  of  illness  or  accident. 

Not  only  is  there  provision  against  fire  by  a  length  of 
fire-hose  attached  to  hydrants  on  each  storey,  but  the 
water  supply  to  lavatories  and  for  other  purposes  is 
secured  by  a  cistern  holding  4,000  gallons  at  the  top  of  the 
building;  so  that  there  is  complete  circulation  throughout 
the  various  parts  of  the  building. 

It  is  time  that  we  paid  a  visit  to  the  basement  of  this 
great  institution,  however  ;  for,  in  more  senses  than  one, 
it  may  be  said  to  be  at  the  foundation  of  the  arrange- 
ments. Yes,  even  with  respect  to  the  amusements  pro- 
vided for  the  inmates — for  while  chess,  draughts  and  back- 
gammon are  to  be  found  in  the  library  and  reading-room, 
■and  billiards  and  bagatelle  hold  their  own  on  the  great 
landings  of  the  first  storey,  we  have  down  here  a  skittle- 
alley  of  a  character  so  remarkable,  that  some  of  us  who 
have  read  Washington  Irvine  think  of  the  reverberations  of 


7o  ''ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS* 

the  giants'.'pastime  in  the  mountains,  while  we  wonder 
where  sailors  can  first  have  acquired  a  taste  for  this  par- 
ticular amusement.  It  is  a  good  and  healthy  one,  how- 
ever, and  is  wisely  provided,  since  it  adds  one  more 
efficient  inducement  to  the  men  to  take  their  pleasure 
among  their  true  friends  instead  of  seeking  it  amidst  the 
evil  influences  of  a  filthy  tavern,  or  in  the  garish  heat  of 
some  vile  RatclirY  Highway  bowling-alley,  where  men  are 
maddened  with  drugged  drink,  and  greeted  with  foul 
imprecations  by  the  harpies  who  seek  to  rob  and  cheat 
them. 

There  is  much  to  see  in  this  basement,  and  to  begin 
with  here  is  No.  two  hundred  and  seventy-one  sending  his 
chest  up  by  the  great  luggage-lift  to  the  second  floor, 
where  he  will  find  it  presently  in  his  cabin.  We  cannot 
stay  to  speak  to  him,  however,  for  we  are  on  the  very 
verge  of  the  kitchen,  to  which  we  are,  as  it  were,  led  by 
the  nose  ;  for  wafted  thence  comes  an  appetising  perfume 
of  new  bread  j  ust  taken  from  one  of  the  great  ovens  devoted 
to  the  daily  baking.  There  are  lingering  odours  also  of  to- 
day's dinner,  though  the  meat  ovens  and  the  great  boilers 
and  hot  plates  are  clean  and  ready  for  the  morrow.  The 
pantry  door,  too,  is  open,  and  there  are  toothsome  varieties 
of"  plain-eating"  therein,  while  the  storerooms  savour  of 
mingled  comforts,  to  which  the  gales  of  Araby  the  blest 
offer  no  parallel,  and  the  butcher's  shop  has  a  cairn  and 
concentrated  sense  of  meatiness  which  is  suggestive  to  a 
robust  appetite  not  already  satiated  with  a  chunk  from 
one  of  a  whole  squadron  of  soft,  new  currant-cakes.  After 
a  peep  at  the  large  and  busy  laundry  with  its  peculiar 
moist  atmosphere,  the  coal  and  beer  cellars,  the  pumping 
machinery  and  boiler-room  may  be  passed  by,  and  little 
curiosity  is  excited  by  this   long  and  convenient  apart- 


WITH  THEM  WHO   WERE  READY  TO  PERISH.  71 

ment  where  hot  and  cold  baths  are  prepared  to  order  at 
a  merely  nominal  charge.  There  is  a  door  close  by,  how- 
ever, where  we  stop  instinctively,  for  there  is  a  cheerful 
light  inside,  and  a  sound  of  easy  and  yet  interrupted  con- 
versation which  can  belong  to  only  one  department  of 
society.  There  can  be  no  mistake  about  it —  a  veritable 
barber's  shop,  and  a  gentleman  with  a  preternaturally 
clean  chin  complacently  surveying  himself  in  a  looking- 
glass  of  limited  dimensions,  while  another  waits  to  be 
operated  upon  by  the  skilled  practitioner  who  carries  in 
his  face  the  suggestion  of  a  whole  ropery  of  'tough  yarns," 
and  was — or  am  I  mistaken — tonsor  to  the  Victory  or  to 
some  ship  of  war  equally  famous  when  the  British  seaman 
shaved  close  and  often,  and  pigtails  had  hardly  gone  out 
of  fashion.  There  is  no  time  for  testing  the  great  artist's 
skill  this  evening,  though  I  could  almost  sacrifice  a  well- 
grown  beard  to  hear  some  rare  old  fo'c's'le  story.  But 
no  story  could  be  more  wonderful  than  the  plain  truth 
that  for  all  the  generous  provision  in  this  excellent  insti- 
tution the  rescued  sailor  brought  within  its  wholesome 
influence  pays  but  fifteen  shillings  a  week.  Yes,  men  and 
apprentices,  fifteen  shillings ;  and  officers,  eighteen  and 
sixpence. 

The  evening  lowers  over  the  outer  world  of  Mint  Street 
and  Leman  Street,  and  the  great  blank  void  of  the  Tower 
ditch  is  full  of  shadow.  Standing  again  in  the  large  en- 
trance hall,  which  reminds  one  more  of  shipboard,  now 
that  the  lights  are  dotted  about  it,  leaving  it  still  a  little 
dim,  I  hear  the  trickling  of  a  drinking-fountain,  and  as- 
sociated with  its  fresh  plash  hear  as  pleasant  a  story  as 
any  yarn  that  ever  the  barber  himself  could  have  spun 
for  my  delight. 

The  fountain,  which  is  of  polished  Aberdeen  granite, 


72  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

was  opened  last  November  in  proper  style,  a  platform 
being  erected,  and  the  chair  being  taken  by  the  Secretary 
to  the  "  Metropolitan  Drinking  Fountains  Association," 
supported  by  several  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Mr.  Lee 
made  an  appropriate  speech,  and  called  attention  to  the 
gift,  and  pointed  to  the  inscription  ;  and  it  was  quite  an 
emphatic  little  observance  for  the  inmates  who  had 
gathered  in  the  hall  on  the  occasion.  And  well  it  might 
be,  for  the  fountain  bears  this  modest  inscription: — "The 
gift  of  William  McNeil,  Seaman,  in  appreciation  of  the 
great  benefits  he  has  derived  on  the  various  occasions 
during  which  he  has  made  the  Institution  his  Homcy  for 
upwards  of  25  years. 

I  think  very  little  more  need  be  said  for  the  Sailors' 
Home  than  is  indicated  by  this  plain,  earnest  testimony 
to  its  worth.  Yet  it  is  necessary  to  say  one  more  word. 
This  Sailors'  Home  is  in  a  way  self-supporting,  and  at 
present  seeks  only  the  kindly  interest  of  the  public  in  case 
it  should  ever  need  another  response  to  an  appeal  for  ex- 
tending its  sphere  of  usefulness.  Not  a  farthing  of  profit 
is  permitted  to  any  individual  engaged  in  it,  and  even 
fees  to  servants  are  prohibited,  though  the  crimps  and  touts 
outside  endeavour  to  bribe  them  sometimes,  to  induce 
sailors  to  go  to  the  common  lodging-houses,  where  land- 
rats  seek  their  prey.  All  the  profits,  if  there  are  any  at  all, 
are  placed  to  a  reserve  fund  for  repairs,  improvements,  or 
extensions.  At  any  rate,  no  public  appeals  are  being  made 
just  now. 

But  there  is  another  institution  next  door — another 
branch  of  the  stem  which  has  grown  so  sturdily  from  the 
seed  planted  by  the  good  captain — the  Destitute  Sailors' 
Asylum.  That  is  a  place  full  of  interest,  though  there  is 
nothing  to  see  there.     Nothing  but  a  clean  yard,  with 


WITH  THEM  WHO   WERE  READY  TO  PERISH.    73 

means  for  washing  and  cleansing,  and  a  purifying  oven 
for  removing  possible  infection  from  clothes,  and  a  great 
bare  room,  just  comfortably  warmed  in  winter,  and  hung 
with  rows  of  hammocks,  like  the  'tween-decks  of  a  ship. 
That  is  all ;  but  in  those  hammocks,  sometimes,  poor 
starved  and  destitute  sailors  go  to  sleep,  after  they  have 
been  fed  with  soup  and  warmed  and  comforted ;  and  in 
the  morning,  when  they  turn  out,  they  are  fed  again  with 
cocoa  and  bread,  and  if  they  are  naked  they  are  clothed. 
There  are  not  very  many  applicants,  for,  strange  as  it  may 
appear,  since  sailors'  homes  have  come  in  fashion  there 
are  but  few  destitute  seamen  ;  but  there  need  be  no  unre- 
lieved destitute  sailors  at  ail  in  London,  for  anybody  can 
send  such  a  one  to  the  Asylum  in  Well  Street,  London 
Docks,  and  he  will  be  admitted.  Here  then,  is  an  insti- 
tution that  may  claim  support. 


CASTING  BREAD   UPON  THE   WATERS. 

NE  of  the  old  Saxon  commentators  on  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  in  referring  to  the  passage, 
"  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  it  shall 
be  found  after  many  days,"  ventures  to  sug- 
gest as  a  meaning—"  Give  succour  to  poor  and  afflicted 
seamen."  Whatever  may  be  the  conclusions  of  critical 
Biblical  expositors,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  pious 
annotator  was  right  in  a  true — that  is,  in  a  spiritual  inter- 
pretation of  the  text. 

Should  it  be  necessary  to  appeal  twice  to  the  English 
nation — which  has,  as  it  were  a  savour  of  sea-salt  in  its 
very  blood — to  hold  out  a  helping  hand  for  those  who, 
having  struggled  to  keep  our  dominion  by  carrying  the  flag 
of  British  commerce  all  round  the  world,  are  themselves 
flung  ashore,  weak,  old,  and  helpless,  dependent  on  the 
goodwill  of  their  countrymen  to  take  them  into  some 
quiet  harbour,  where  they  may,  as  it  were  be  laid  up  in 
ordinary  and  undergo  some  sort  of  repairs,  even  though 
they  should  never  again  be  able  to  go  a  voyage  ?  It  is 
with  feelings  of  something  like  regret  that  an  average 
Englishman  sees  the  old  hull  of  a  sea-going  boat  lie 
neglected  and  uncared  for  on  the  beach.  Not  without  a 
pang  can  we  witness  the  breaking-up  of  some  stout  old 


CASTING  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS.  75 

ship  no  longer  seaworthy.  Yet,  unhappily,  we  have 
hitherto  given  scant  attention  to  the  needs  of  those  old 
and  infirm  seamen,  who  having  for  many  years  contri- 
buted out  of  their  wages  to  the  funds  of  the  Naval 
Hospital  at  Greenwich,  and  having  been  again  mulcted 
of  some  subscriptions  which  were  to  have  been  specially 
devoted  to  found  an  asylum  for  themselves,  are  left  with 
little  to  look  forward  to  but  the  workhouse  ward  when, 
crippled,  sick,  or  feeble  with  age,  they  could  no  longer 
tread  the  deck  or  crack  a  biscuit. 

It  is  true  that  there  are  now  hospitals  or  sick-asylums 
in  connection  with  some  of  the  sailors'  homes  at  our  sea- 
ports, and  to  the  general  hospitals  any  sailor  can  be 
admitted  if  he  should  be  able  to  procure  a  letter  from 
a  governor.  The  'tween-decks  of  the  Dreadnought  no 
longer  form  the  sole  hospital  for  invalided  merchant 
seamen  in  the  Port  of  London  ;  but  even  reckoning  all 
that  has  been  done  for  sailors,  and  fresh  from  a  visit  to 
that  great  building  where  three  hundred  hale  and  hearty 
seamen  of  the  great  mercantile  navy  find  a  home,  we  are 
left  to  wonder  that  so  little  has  been  accomplished  for 
those  old  tars  who,  having  lived  for  threescore  years  or 
more,  going  to  and  fro  upon  the  great  deep,  can  find  no 
certain  anchorage,  except  within  the  walls  of  some  union 
where  they  may  at  last  succeed  in  claiming  a  settlement. 
Surely  there  is  no  figure  which  occupies  a  more  pro- 
minent place  in  English  history  than  that  of  the  sailor — 
not  the  man-o'-war's  man  only — but  the  merchant  sea- 
man, the  descendant  of  those  followers  of  the  great  old 
navigators  who  were  called  "  merchant  adventurers,"  and 
who  practically  founded  for  Great  Britain  new  empires 
beyond  the  sea.  In  the  poetry,  the  songs,  the  literature, 
the  political  records,  the  social  chronicles,  the  domestic 


76  "  ABOUT  M Y  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

narratives  of  England,  the  sailor  holds  a  place,  and  even 
at  our  holiday  seasons,  when  our  children  cluster  on  the 
shingly  shore  or  the  far-stretching  brown  sands  of  the 
coast,  we  find  still  that  we  belong  to  a  nation  of  which 
the  sailor  long  stood  as  the  chosen  representative.  Nay, 
in  the  midst  of  the  life  of  a  great  city  we  cannot  fail  to 
be  reminded  of  the  daring  and  the  enterprise  which  has 
helped  to  make  London  what  it  is. 

The  poet,  who,  standing  on  the  bridge  at  midnight, 
and  listening  to  the  chime  of  the  hour,  found  his  imagi- 
nation occupied  with  serious  images  and  his  memory  with 
solemn  recollections,  would  have  been  no  less  moved  to 
profound  contemplation  had  he  been  a  temporary  occu- 
pant of  one  of  the  great  structures  that  span  the  silent 
highway  of  the  Thames.  There  is  something  in  the 
flow  of  a  broad  and  rapid  stream  which  has  a  peculiar 
association  with  thoughts  of  the  struggle  and  toil  of 
human  life,  and  as  we  look  on  the  ever-moving  tide,  we 
ask  ourselves  what  have  we  done  for  the  brave  old  toil- 
worn  men  who  have  seen  the  wonders  of  the  great 
deep  for  so  many  years,  and  have  brought  so  much  to 
us  that  we  can  scarcely  speak  of  food  or  drink  without 
some  reminder  of  their  toilsome  lives  and  long  voyages  ? 
Well,  a  little  has  been  done, — very  little  when  we  reflect 
how  much  yet  remains  to  be  accomplished  ;  and  yet 
much,  regarded  as  a  fair  opportunity  for  doing  a  great 
deal  more.  I  have  already  recounted  some  part  of  the 
sad  story  of  what  a  provident  Government  did  when  it 
thought  to  undertake  the  affairs  of  poor  improvident 
Jack.  How  it  collected  his  money,  and  neglected  to  give 
him  the  benefit  of  the  enforced  subscription  ;  how  it 
administered  and  laid  claim  to  his  poor  little  effects  and 
arrears  of  pay,  if  he  died  abroad  and  nobody  came  for- 


CASTING  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS.  77 

ward  to  establish  a  right  to  them  ;  how  it  demanded 
additional  contributions  from  his  monthly  wages,  in  order 
to  show  him  how  to  establish  a  relief  fund  ;  and  how 
somehow  the  scheme  went  "  by  the  board  "  (of  Trade), 
and  the  balance  of  the  money  was  lost  in  the  gulf  of  the 
estimates. 

As  long  ago  as  i860  it  became  clear  to  a  number  of 
leading  merchants,  shipowners,  and  officers  of  the  mer- 
cantile marine  that  nothing  was  to  be  looked  for  from 
the  State  when  the  subject  of  making  an  effort  to  pro- 
vide for  aged  and  infirm  sailors  was  again  urgently 
brought  forward  ;  but  it  was  determined  to  make  a  defi- 
nite movement,  and  "  The  Shipwrecked  Mariners' 
Society,"  which  had  then  40,000  officers  and  seamen 
among  its  subscribers,  was  appealed  to  as  a  body  having 
the  power  to  form  the  required  association. 

It  was  not  till  1867,  however,  that  the  actual  work  of 
providing  an  asylum  for  old  sailors  was  commenced. 
The  society  had  then  put  down  the  sum  of  ^"5,000  as  a 
good  beginning,  a  committee  had  been  appointed,  of 
which  the  late  honoured  Paymaster  Francis  Lean  was 
the  indefatigable  honorary  secretary,  and  Captain  Thomas 
Tribe  the  secretary,  whilst  the  list  of  patrons,  presidents, 
vice-presidents,  and  supporters  included  many  eminent 
noblemen  and  gentlemen  who  took  a  true  interest  in  the 
undertaking. 

Several  public  meetings  were  held,  and  "a  Pension  and 
Widows'  Fund  "  was  first  established.  Then  the  com- 
mittee began  to  look  about  them  for  a  suitable  house  in 
which  to  begin  their  real  business,  and  had  their  attention 
directed  to  a  large  building  at  that  time  for  sale,  situated 
on  the  breezy  height  above  Erith,  and  formerly  well 
known  as  the  residence  of  Sir  Culling  Eardley,  who  had 


78  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:' 

named  it  Belvidere.  The  property,  including  twenty- 
three  acres  of  surrounding  land,  cost  £12,148,  and 
£5,000  having  already  been  subscribed,  the  balance  of 
£7,148  was  borrowed  at  five  per  cent,  interest.  Not  till 
the  5th  of  May,  1866,  however,  was  the  institution  inau- 
gurated and  handed  over  to  a  committee  of  management. 

It  is  admirably  suggestive  of  its  present  occupation, 
this  fine  roomy  old  mansion,  standing  on  the  sheltered 
side,  but  near  the  top,  of  the  lofty  eminence,  whence 
such  a  magnificent  view  may  be  obtained,  not  only  of  the 
surrounding  country,  but  of  the  mighty  river  where  it 
widens  and  rushes  towards  the  sea.  Here  on  the  broad 
sloping  green,  where  the  tall  flagstaff  with  its  rigging- 
supports  the  Union  Jack,  the  old  fellows  stroll  in  the  sun 
or  look  out  with  a  knowing  weather-eye  towards  the 
shipping  going  'down  stream,  or  sit  to  smoke  and  gossip 
on  the  bench  beneath  their  spreading  tree  opposite  the 
great  cedar,  while  the  cow  of  the  institution  chews  the 
cud  with  a  serious  look,  as  though  it  had  someway 
caught  the  thoughtful  expression  that  characterises 
"  turning  a  quid."  A  hundred  infirm  sailors,  each  of 
whom  is  more  than  sixty  years  old,  are  serenely  at  their 
moorings  in  that  spacious  square-built  house,  where  the 
long  wards  are  divided  into  cabins,  each  with  its  neat  fur- 
niture, and  many  of  them  ornamented  with  the  curious 
knick-knacks,  and  strange  waifs  and  strays  of  former 
voyages  which  sailors  like  to  have  about  them.  There  is 
of  course  a  sick-ward,  where  those  who  are  permanently 
disabled,  or  are  suffering  from  illness,  receive  medical 
attention  and  a  special  diet ;  but  the  majority  of  the  in- 
mates are  comparatively  hearty  still,  though  they  are 
disabled,  and  can  no  longer  "  hand  reef  and  steer." 

There  are  a  hundred  inmates  in  this  admirable  asylum, 


CASTING  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS.  79 

and  ninety  pensioners  who  are  with  their  friends  at  the 
various  outports  of  the  kingdom,  each  receiving  a  pen- 
sion of  ^1  a  month,  called  the  "Mariners'  National 
Pension  Fund,"  the  working  management  of  which,  with 
the  "  Widows'  Annuity  Fund,"  is  made  over  to  the 
"  Shipwrecked  Mariners'  Society." 

A  hundred  and  ninety  worn-out  and  disabled  seamen 
now  provided  for  or  assisted,  and  a  total  of  above  300 
relieved  since  the  opening  of  the  institution.  A  good  and 
noble  work  truly.  But  can  it  be  called  by  so  great  a  name 
as  National,  when  we  know  how  large  a  number  of  old 
sailors  are  yet  homeless,  and  that  at  the  last  election 
there  were  153  candidates  who  could  not  be  assisted  be- 
cause of  the  want  of  funds  to  relieve  their  distress  ? 
Looking  at  the  number  of  men  (2,000  to  5,000)  lost  at 
sea  or  by  shipwreck  every  year,  and  at  the  inquiry  which 
has  been  made,  through  the  efforts  of  Mr.  Plimsoll  and 
others,  with  respect  to  the  conditions  under  which  the 
service  of  the  mercantile  marine  of  this  country  is  carried 
on,  is  it  not  a  reproach  to  us  that  during  the  nineteen 
years  since  this  institution  was  founded,  so  little  has  been 
done  ?  Year  by  year  it  has  been  hoped  that  the  Board 
of  Trade  would  relinquish  its  claim  to  take  possession  of 
the  effects  of  sailors  dying  abroad,  and  would  transfer 
the  £  1,200  a  year  represented  by  this  property  to  the 
funds  of  the  society,  but  hitherto  the  committee  have 
waited  in  vain.  The  donations  from  all  sources  are  com- 
paratively few  ;  and  though  the  annual  subscriptions  are 
numerous,  they  are  rapidly  absorbed. 

Many  masters,  mates,  seamen,  engineers  and  firemen 
pay  to  this  institution  a  subscription  of  five  shillings  a 
year,  for  which  they  have  a  vote  at  each  annual  election  ; 
or  any  such  subscriber  may  leave  his  votes  to  accumu- 


So  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

late  for  his  own  benefit  when  he  shall  have  reached  the 
age  of  sixty  years,  and  becomes  a  candidate  for  admis- 
sion. 

One-fifth  of  the  candidates  admitted  are  nominated  by 
the  committee  on  the  ground  of  their  necessities  or 
special  claims  to  the  benefit  of  the  charity,  while  general 
subscribers  or  donors  have  privileges  of  election  accord- 
ing to  the  amount  contributed.  Perhaps  one  of  the 
most  touching  records  of  the  subscription  list  is,  that  not 
only  did  the  cadets  of  the  mercantile  training-ship 
Worcester  contribute  something  like  ^"ioo  in  one  official 
year,  but  that  the  little  fellows  on  board  the  union 
training-ship  Goliath  lying  off  Grays,  have  joined  their 
officers  and  their  commander,  Captain  Bourchier,  to 
send  offerings  to  the  aid  of  the  ancient  mariners,  of 
whom  they  are  the  very  latest  representatives.  On  many 
a  good  ship  these  small  collections  are  made  for  the 
same  object,  and  at  the  Sailors'  Home  in  Well  Street 
there  is  a  box  for  stray  contributions  ;  but  much  more 
has  yet  to  be  done.  Perhaps  it  is  far  to  go  to  see  this 
great  house  on  the  hill,  but  most  of  us  have  caught  a 
glimpse  of  its  tall  towers  and  its  flagstaff  in  our  excur- 
sions down  the  silent  highway  of  London's  river,  and  it 
might  be  well  to  think  how  little  effort  is  required  to  give 
to  each  cabin  its  inmate,  and  to  fill  the  dining-room  with 
tables,  each  with  its  "mess"  of  six  or  eight  old  salts, 
who  are  ready  to  greet  you  heartily  if  you  pay  them  a 
visit,  and  to  salute  you  with  a  grave  seamanlike  respect. 
Would  you  like  to  know  how  this  rare  old  crew  lives  in 
the  big  house  under  the  lee  of  the  wind-blown  hill  ?  To 
begin  with,  the  men  who  are  not  invalids  turn  out  at 
eight  in  winter  and  half-past  seven  in  summer,  and  after 
making  beds  and  having  a  good  wash,  go  down  to  prayers 


CASTING  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS.  Sr 

-and  breakfast  at  nine'  or  half-past  eight,  breakfast  con- 
sisting of  coffee  or  cocoa  and  bread-and-butter. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  ward-men,  who  are  appointed  in  ro- 
tation, go  to  clean  wards  and  make  all  tidy,  each  inmate 
being,  however,  responsible  for  the  neatness  of  his  own 
cabin,  in  which  nobody  is  allowed  to  drive  nails  in  bulk- 
heads or  walls,  and  no  cutting  or  carving  of  woodwork  is 
permitted.  The  men  not  for  the  time  employed  in  tidy- 
ing up  or  airing  bedding,  &c,  can,  if  they  choose,  go  into 
the  industrial  ward,  where  they  can  work  at  several  oc- 
cupations for  their  own  profit,  as  they  are  only  charged 
for  cost  of  materials.  Dinner  is  served  in  the  several 
messes  by  the  appointed  messmen  at  one  o'clock,  and 
consists  on  Sundays  of  roast  beef,  vegetables,  and  plum- 
pudding,  and  on  week-days  of  roast  or  boiled  meat,  soup, 
vegetables,  with  one  day  a  week  salt  fish,  onions,  pota- 
toes, and  plain  suet-pudding,  and  in  summer  an  occa- 
sional salad.  A  pint  of  beer  is  allowed  for  each  man. 
The  afternoon  may  be  devoted  either  to  work,  or  to  re- 
creation in  the  reading  and  smoking  rooms,  or  in  the 
grounds.  Tea  and  bread-and-butter  are  served  at  half- 
past  five  in  summer  and  at  six  in  winter,  and  there  is 
often  a  supper  of  bread-and-cheese  and  watercresses  or 
radishes.  The  evening  is  devoted  to  recreation,  and  at 
half-past  nine  in  winter,  and  ten  in  summer,  after  prayers, 
lights  are  put  out,  and  every  one  retires  for  the  night. 

None  of  the  inmates  are  expected  to  work  in  the  indus- 
trial wards,  and  of  course  there  are  various  servants  and 
attendants,  all  of  whom  are  chosen  by  preference  from 
the  families  of  sailors,  or  have  themselves  been  at  sea. 
The  whole  place  is  kept  so  orderly,  and  everything  is  so 
ship-shape,  that  there  is  neither  waste  nor  confusion, 
and  yet  every  man  there  is  at  liberty  to  go  in  and  out 

6 


82  "ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS? 

when  he  pleases,  on  condition  of  being  in  at  meal-times,, 
and  at  the  time  for  evening  prayers,  any  one  desiring  to 
remain  away  being  required  to  ask  permission  of  the 
manager.  It  must  be  mentioned,  too,  that  there  is  an 
allowance  of  ninepence  a  week  spending  money  for  each 
inmate. 

The  men  are  comfortably  clothed,  in  a  decent  sailorly 
fashion,  and  many  of  the  old  fellows  have  still  the  bright, 
alert,  active  look  that  belongs  to  the  "smart  hands," 
among  whom  some  of  them  were  reckoned  nearly  half 
a  century  ago.      The   most   ancient   of  these  mariners 
at  the  time  of  my  first  visit  was  ninety-two  years  old, 
and  it  so  happened   that   I   saw  him  on  his  birthday. 
He  came  up  the  broad  flight  of  stairs  to  speak  to  me, 
with  a  foot  that  had  not  lost  all  its  lightness,  while  the 
eye  that  was  left  to  him  (he  had  lost  one  by  accident 
twenty  years  before)  was  as  bright  and  open  as  a  sailor's 
should  be.     This  is  a  long  time  ago,  and  William  Cover- 
dale  (that  was  his  name)  has  probably  gone  to  his  rest 
Significantly  enough,    at  the   time   of  my  latest   visit, 
the   oldest  representative   of  the   last  muster-roll   was 
James  Nelson,  a  master  mariner  of  Downpatrick,  eighty- 
five  years    of  age;    while    bo's'n   Blanchard    is   eighty- 
one;    able   seaman   John   Hall,   eighty;    William   Terry 
(A.  B.),  eighty-two,  and  masters,   mates,  quartermasters, 
cooks,  and  stewards,  ranged  over  seventy.     With  many 
of   them  this    is   the    incurable    disability   that    keeps 
them  ashore ;  the  sort  of  complaint  which  is  common  to 
sailors  and  landsmen  alike  if  they  live  long  enough — that 
of  old  age.     It  will  come  one  day,  let  us  hope,  to  the 
young  Prince,  whom  we  may  regard  as  the  Royal  repre- 
sentative of  the  English  liking  for  the  sea.      For  the 
asylum  for  old  and  infirm  sailors  at  Greenhithe  has  not 


CASTING  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS.  83 

been  called  Belvidere  for  some  years  now.  Prince  Alfred 
went  to  look  at  it  one  day,  and  asked  leave  to  become  its 
patron,  since  which  it  has  been  called  "The  Royal  Alfred 
Aged  Merchant  Seamen's  Institution" — rather  a  long 
name,  but  then  it  ought  to  mean  so  much. 


6-2 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED. 


S  there  any  condition  wherein  we  feel  greater 
need  of  human  help  and  true  loving  sym- 
pathy than  in  the  slow,  feeble  creeping  from 
sickness  to  complete  convalescence,  when  the 
pulse  of  life  beats  low,  and  the  failing  foot  yet  lacks 
power  to  step  across  that  dim  barrier  between  health  and 
sickness — not  far  from  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death? 
In  the  bright,  glowing  summer-tide,  when  the  sun 
warms  bloodless  creatures  into  renewed  life,  our  English 
sea-coast  abounds  with  visitors,  among  whom  near  and 
dear  friends,  parents,  children,  slowly  and  painfully  win- 
ning their  way  back  to  health  and  strength  are  the  ob- 
jects of  peculiar  care.  In  all  our  large  towns  people  who 
have  money  to  spend  are,  at  least,  beginning  to  make  up 
their  minds  where  they  shall  take  their  autumn  holiday ; 
— in  many  quiet  health-resorts  wealthy  invalids,  and 
some  who  are  not  wealthy,  have  already  passed  the  early 
spring  and  summer; — at  a  score  of  pleasant  watering- 
places,  where  the  cool  sparkling  waves  break  upon  the 
"  ribbed  sea-sand,"  troops  of  children  are  already  brown- 
ing in  the  sun,  scores  of  hearts  feel  a  throb  of  grateful 
joy  as  the  glow  of  health  begins  to  touch  cheeks  lately 
pale,  and  dull  eyes  brighten  under  the  clear  blue  sky. 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED.      85 

Thousands  upon  thousands  are  then  on  their  way  to 
that  great  restorer,  the  sea,  if  it  be  only  for  a  few 
hours  by  excursion  train.  England  might  seem  to  have 
gathered  all  its  children  at  its  borders,  and  very  soon  we 
hear  how  empty  London  is,  while  a  new  excuse  for  a 
holiday  will  be  that  there  is  "nothing  doing"  and  "no- 
body is  in  town."  And  yet  throughout  the  busy  streets 
a  throng  continues  to  hurry  onward  in  restless  activity. 
Only  well-accustomed  observers  could  see  any  consider- 
able difference  in  the  great  thoroughfares  of  London. 
Shops  and  factories  look  busy  enough,  and  if  nothing  is 
doing,  there  is  a  mighty  pretence  of  work,  while  the  no- 
bodies are  a  formidable  portion  of  the  population  when 
regarded  in  the  aggregate. 

Early  in  August  the  census  of  our  large  towns  still 
further  diminishes.  Prosperous  tradesmen,  noting  the 
decrease  of  customers,  begin  to  prepare  to  take  part  in 
the  general  exodus.  "  Gentlefolks  "  have  concluded  bar- 
gains for  furnished  houses  on  the  coast  and  put  their 
dining  and  drawing-rooms  into  brown  holland.  In  West- 
End  streets  and  squares  the  front  blinds  are  drawn,  and 
all  inquiries  are  answered  from  the  areas,  where  char- 
women supplement  the  duties  of  servants  on  board 
wages.  "  London  is  empty,"  the  newspapers  say,  and  in 
every  large  town  in  the  kingdom  the  great  outgoing 
leaves  whole  districts  comparatively  untenanted.  Yet 
what  a  vast  population  remains ;  what  a  great  army  of  toil- 
ing men  and  women  who  go  about  their  daily  work,  and 
keep  up  the  unceasing  buzz  of  the  industrial  hive.  What 
troops  of  children,  who,  except  for  Sunday-school  treats, 
would  scarcely  spend  a  day  amidst  green  fields,  or  learn 
how  to  make  a  daisy-chain,  or  hear  the  soft  summer  wind 
rustling  the  leaves  of  overhanging  trees. 


86  <•  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS:1 

It  would  perhaps  astonish  us  if  we  could  have  set 
down  for  us  in  plain  figures  how  many  men  and  women  in 
England  have  never  seen  the  sea ;  how  many  people 
have  never  spent  a  week  away  from  home,  or  had  a  real 
long  holiday  in  all  their  lives.  It  may  be  happy  for  them 
if  they  are  not  compelled  by  sudden  sickness  or  accident, 
to  fall  out  of  the  ranks,  and  to  leave  the  plough  sticking 
in  the  furrow.  It  is  not  all  for  pleasure  and  careless  en- 
joyment that  the  thousands  of  our  wealthy  brethren  and 
sisters  go  to  the  terraced  houses,  or  handsomely  ap- 
pointed mansions,  which  await  them  all  round  the  En- 
glish shore.  Into  how  many  eyes  tears  must  need 
spring,  when  the  prayers  for  all  who  are  in  sorrow,  need, 
or  adversity  are  read  in  seaside  churches  on  a  summer's 
Sunday.  By  what  sick-beds,  and  couches  set  at  windows 
whence  wistful  eyes  may  look  out  upon  the  changeful 
glory  of  wood  and  sea  and  sky,  anxious  hearts  are 
throbbing.  What  silent  tears  and  low  murmuring  cries 
on  behalf  of  dear  ones  on  whose  pale  cheeks  the  July 
roses  never  more  may  bloom,  mark  the  watches  of  the 
silent  night,  when  the  waves  sob  wakefully  upon  the 
beach.  What  thrills  of  hope  and  joy  contend  with  ob- 
trusive fears  as,  the  golden  spears  of  dawn  break  through 
the  impenetrable  slate-blue  sky,  and  a  touch  of  strength 
and  healing  is  seen  to  have  left  its  mark  upon  a  brow  on 
which  the  morning  kiss  is  pressed  with  a  keen  throb 
that  is  itself  almost  a  pang. 

The  first  faltering  footsteps  back  to  life  after  a  long 
illness  or  a  severe  shock,  how  they  need  careful  guidance. 
Let  the  stronger  arm,  the  helping  hand,  the  encouraging 
eye  be  ready,  or  they  may  fail  before  the  goal  of  safety 
be  reached. 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED.      87 

"All  that  is  now  wanted  is  strength,  careful  nursing, 
plenty  of  nourishment,  pure  air — the  seaside  if  possible, 
and  perhaps  the  south  coast  would  be  best."  Welcome 
tidings,  even  though  they  herald  slow  recovery,  inch  by 
inch  and  day  by  day,  while  watchful  patience  measures 
out  the  time  by  meat  and  drink,  and  the  money  that  will 
buy  the  means  of  comfort  or  of  pleasure,  becomes  but 
golden  sand  running  through  the  hour-glass,  which  marks 
each  happy  change. 

Yes;  but  what  of  the  poor  and  feeble,  the  faint-hearted 
who,  having  neither  oil  nor  wine,  nor  the  twopence  where- 
with to  pay  for  lodging  at  the  inn,  must  need  lie  there  by 
the  way-side,  if  no  hand  is  stretched  out  to  help  them  ? 

While  at  those  famous  health-resorts,  the  names  of 
which  are  to  be  read  at  every  railway  station,  and  in  the 
advertisement  sheets  of  every  newspaper,  hundreds  and 
thousands  are  coming  back  from  weakness  to  strength, 
there  are  hundreds  and  thousands  still  who  are  discharged 
from  our  great  metropolitan  hospitals,  to  creep  to  rooms 
in  dim,  close  courts  and  alleys,  where  all  the  tending 
care  that  can  be  given  them  must  be  snatched  from  the 
hours  of  labour  necessary  to  buy  medicine  and  food. 
How  many  a  poor  sorrowing  soul  has  said  with  a  sigh, 
"Oh!  if  I  could  only  send  you  to  the  sea-side.  The 
doctors  all  say  fresh  air's  the  great  thing;  but  what's 
the  use  ?  they  say  the  same  of  pure  milk  and  meat  and 
wine." 

It  may  be  the  father  who  has  met  with  an  accident, 
and  cannot  get  over  the  shock  of  a  surgical  opera- 
tion— or  rheumatic  fever  may  have  left  mother,  son,  or 
•daughter  in  that  terrible  condition  of  utter  prostration, 
when  it  seems  as  though  we  were  in  momentary  danger 
of  floating  away  into  a  fainting  unconsciousness,  which 


88  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:' 

not  being  oblivion,  engages  us  in  a  struggle  beyond  our 
waking  powers. 

Alas !  in  the  great  summer  excursion  to  the  coast 
these  poor  fainting  brethren  and  sisters  are  too  seldom 
remembered.  Here  and  there  a  building  is  pointed  out 
as  an  infirmary,  a  sea-side  hospital,  or  even  as  a  retreat 
for  convalescents,  but  the  latter  institutions  are  so  few, 
and  the  best  of  them  are  so  inadequately  supported,  that 
they  have  never  yet  been  able  to  prove  by  startling 
figures  the  great  benefits  which  they  confer  upon  those 
who  are  received  within  their  walls. 

One  of  the  oldest  of  these  truly  beneficent  Institutions, 
"  The  Sea-side  Convalescent  Hospital  at  Seaford,"  has 
just  completed  a  new,  plain,  but  commodious  building, 
not  far  from  the  still  plainer  House  which  has  for  many 
years  been  the  Home  of  its  grateful  patients.  So  let  us 
pay  a  visit  to  the  old  place  just  before  its  inmates  are 
transferred  to  more  ample  quarters,  to  provide  for  which 
new  subscriptions  are  needed,  and  fresh  efforts  are  being 
made.  The  visit  will  show  us  how,  in  an  unpretentious 
way,  and  without  costly  appliances,  such  a  charitable 
effort  may  be  worthily  maintained. 

Curiously  enough,  Seaford  itself  is  an  illustration  of 
declension  from  strength  to  weakness,  and  of  the  early 
stages  of  recovery ;  for  though  it  is  one  of  the  famous 
Cinque  Ports,  it  has  for  nearly  200  years  been  an  un- 
noted retreat. 

But  it  is  still  a  place  of  old,  odd  customs,  such  as  the 
election  of  the  chief  of  the  municipality  at  an  assembly 
of  freemen  at  a  certain  gate-post  in  the  town,  to  which 
they  are  marshalled  by  an  officer  bearing  a  mace  sur- 
mounted with  the  arms  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  It  is  fa- 
mous, too,  for  Roman  and  other  antiquities,  and  its  queer 
little  church  dedicated  to  St.  Leonard,  has  some  rare  speci- 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED.      89 

mens  of  quaint  carving  and  a  peal  of  bells  which  are  pecu- 
liarly musical,  while  the  sounding  of  the  complines  on  a 
still  summer's  night  is  good  to  hear.  In  fact,  for  a  mere 
cluster  of  houses  forming  an  unpretentious  and  secluded 
town,  almost  without  shops  to  attract  attention,  with 
scarcely  the  suspicion  of  a  high  street,  and  destitute  of  a 
grand  hotel,  Seaford  is  remarkably  interesting  for  its 
legendary  lore,  as  a  good  many  people  know,  who  have 
discovered  its  greatest  attraction,  and  take  lodgings  at 
the  dull  little  place,  where  even  the  martello  tower  is  de- 
serted. The  chief  recommendation  of  the  place,  however, 
is  its  healthfulness,  and  the  grand  air  which  blows  off  the 
sea  to  the  broad  stretch  of  shingly  beach,  and  the  range 
of  cliff  and  down-land  which  stretches  as  far  as  Beachy 
Head,  and  rises  just  outside  the  town  into  one  or  two  bluffs, 
about  which  the  sea-gulls  whirl  and  scream,  as  the  even- 
ing sun  dips  into  the  sparkling  blue  of  the  water.  It  is 
just  at  the  foot  of  the  boldest  of  these  ascents  that  we  see 
an  old-fashioned  mansion,  once  known  as  Corsica  Hall, 
but  now  more  distinctly  associated  with  the  name  of  the 
Convalescent  Hospital,  of  which  it  has  long  been  the 
temporary  home,  the  London  offices  of  the  charity  being 
at  No.  8,  Charing  Cross,  London. 

The  institution,  which  was  founded  in  i860,  has  for  its 
president  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  for  its 
patronesses  the  Duchess  of  Cambridge  and  the  Duchess 
of  Teck,  and  it  has  done  its  quiet  work  efficiently  and  well, 
under  difficulties  which  must  have  required  staunch  in- 
terest on  the  part  of  its  committee. 

It  is  difficult  at  first  to  understand  that  the  big  many- 
roomed  house  just  by  the  spur  of  the  cliff,  and  peeping 
out  to  see  over  the  shingle  ridge,  is  in  any  sense  a  hospital ;. 
but  here  is  a  convalescent  who  will  give  us  a  very  fair  idea 


90  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS." 

of  the  work  that  is  being  done  ;  a  tall  fellow  who  is  but 
just  recovering  from  acute  rheumatism,  and  is  now  able 
to  go  about  slowly  but  with  a  cheery,  hopeful  look  in  his 
face.  Presently,  as  one  comes  near  the  front  door,  a  lad, 
who  having  come  from  a  hospital  where  he  has  been 
attended  for  fractured  ancle,  has  been  sent  here  to  re- 
cover strength,  is  hobbling  across  a  poultry- yard,  where 
a  grand  company  of  black  Spanish,  Polish,  Cochin  China, 
and  other  fowls  are  assembled  to  be  fed,  and  beneath  a 
pent-house  roof  in  this  same  yard,  on  a  bench,  which 
would  be  well  replaced  by  a  more  comfortable  garden- 
seat  if  the  funds  would  allow,  there  is  a  sheltered  and 
comfortable  corner  for  the  afternoon  indulgence  of  a  whiff 
of  tobacco.  Twenty-five  men  and  twenty-four  women 
are  all  the  inmates,  besides  attendants,  for  whom  space 
can  be  found  ;  and  an  inspection  of  the  airy  and  scru- 
pulously clean  dormitories,  or  rather  bedrooms,  on  each 
side  of  the  building,  will  show  that  all  the  accommoda- 
tion has  been  made  available.  It  must  be  remembered, 
however,  that  as  the  period  of  each  inmate's  stay  is 
but  a  month  of  twenty- eight  days,  fresh  cases  are  con- 
stantly admitted  during  all  the  summer  months  ;  so  that 
though  as  late  as  at  the  end  of  March  only  fourteen  men 
and  six  women  were  distributed  in  the  wards,  the  average 
number  admitted  during  the  last  official  year  has  been  511 
(an  increase  of  twenty-four  over  the  year  before),  while  the 
total  number  of  cases  received  since  the  opening  of  the  in- 
stitution amounts  to  nearly  5,000. 

There  are  evidences  that  in  this  old  house,  with  its  long 
passages,  and  little  supplementary  stairs  leading  to  the 
bedrooms,  economy  has  been  studied,  and  yet  all  that 
can  be  done  to  adapt  the  place  to  its  purpose  has  been 
effected.     The  sense  of  fresh  air  and  cleanliness  is  the 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED.        91 

first  noticeable  characteristic.  There  are  no  slovenly 
corners ;  in  sitting-rooms,  corridors,  or  dormitories, 
whether  the  latter  be  little  rooms  with  only  two  or 
three  beds,  or  either  of  the  large  apartments,  with 
their  wide  bay-windows  looking  forth  upon  the  sea. 
Plainly  and  even  sparely  furnished,  they  have  an  ap- 
pearance of  homelike  comfort,  and  it  is  pleasant  to 
note  that  in  the  larger  bright  cheerful  room  devoted 
to  women  patients  there  are  evidences  of  feminine 
taste  and  womanly  belongings,  even  to  the  egg-cups 
holding  little  posies  of  wild  flowers  and  common  garden 
blooms  that  deck  the  broad  mantelshelf  in  front  of  the 
toilet  glasses.  The  same  home-like  influences  are  to  be 
observed  in  other  departments,  and  though  this  old  coun- 
try house — of  which  the  institution  holds  only  a  short 
term  as  tenants — is  not  altogether  suited  for  the  purpose 
to  which  it  has  been  applied,  the  arrangements  are  not 
without  a  certain  pleasant  departure  from  the  too  formal 
and  mechanical  routine  which  is  observed  in  some  estab- 
lishments to  have  a  peculiarly  depressing  influence  on  the 
sick. 

The  kitchen  is  like  that  of  some  good-sized  farm-house, 
with  brick  floor,  an  ample  "  dresser,"  and  a  big  range, 
flanked  with  its  pair  of  ovens,  and  just  now  redolent  of 
the  steam  of  juicy  South-down  mutton  and  fresh  vege- 
tables about  to  be  served  for  the  patients'  dinners. 

It  is  a  property  of  the  Seaford  air  to  make  even 
persons  with  delicate  appetites  ready  for  three  plain 
meals  a  day,  with  a  meat  supper  to  follow,  and  the  con- 
valescents are  no  exception  to  the  rule.  Tea  and  bread- 
and-butter  for  breakfast,  bread-and-cheese  and  ale  for  the 
men,  and  cake  and  ale  for  the  women  as  a  snack  in  the 
way  of  lunch,  good  roast  meat  and  vegetables  for  dinner, 


92  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS.1' 

with  occasional  pies  or  puddings,  with  another  half-pint 
of  ale ;  tea  as  usual ;  and  a  supper  consisting  of  a  slice 
of  meat,  bread,  and  another  draught  of  beer — this  is  the 
most  ordinary  diet ;  but  in  many  cases  milk  is  substituted 
for  ale,  and  there  is  also  a  morning  draught  of  milk,  or 
rum-and-milk,  a  lunch  or  supper  of  farinaceous  food, 
and  wine  or  special  diet,  according  to  the  orders  of 
the  house  surgeon,  who  visits  the  patients  daily,  or 
as  often  as  may  be  required.  Following  the  odour  of 
the  roast  mutton,  we  see  the  male  patients  preparing 
to  sit  down  to  dinner  in  a  good-sized  room,  where, 
to  judge  from  the  pleased  and  grateful  faces  of  men  and 
lads,  they  are  quite  ready  to  do  justice  to  the  repast. 
Barely  furnished,  and  with  table  appointments  of  the 
plainest  kind,  the  dining-room  is  not  indicative  of  luxury  ; 
but  the  sauce  of  hunger  is  not  wanting,  and  as  we  bow 
our  leave-taking,  there  are  signs  that  the  money  spent  at 
this  Seaford  Hospital  is  well  represented  by  the  whole- 
some but  expensive  medicine  of  pure  food  and  drink  in 
ample  quantities,  prescribed  under  conditions  which 
build  up  the  strength,  and  restore  life  to  the  enfeebled 
frames  of  those  to  whom  a  month  of  such  living  must  be 
an  era  in  their  history. 

The  women's  dining-room  is,  I  am  glad  to  see,  more 
ornamental  than  that  of  the  men.  The  walls  are  bright 
with  gay  paper,  containing  large  and  brilliantly  coloured 
scenery,  while  the  wide  windows  look  seaward,  and  fill 
the  large  room  with  cheerful  light. 

This  is  all  the  more  essential  as  there  is  no  other 
sitting-room  for  the  female  patients,  and  the  more  con- 
venient furniture,  especially  a  low  wooden  couch  covered 
with  a  mattress,  is  adapted  to  the  needs  of  those  who 
require  indoor  recreation  as  well  as  frequent  rest.     The 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED.        93 

men  have  a  separate  sitting-room  in  the  basement,  not  a 
very  cheerful  apartment,  but  one  which  in  the  warm 
summer-time  is  cool,  and  adapted  for  the  after-dinner 
doze,  or  for  reading  a  book  when  the  weather  is  not 
quite  favourable  for  sitting  out  of  doors. 

There  is,  by  the  bye,  a  very  decided  need  of  enter- 
taining and  pleasant  books  for  the  patients'  library  at  Sea- 
ford,  the  few  which  are  on  the  two  or  three  shelves  being 
mostly  old,  and  of  a  particularly  dreary  pattern.  It  is 
obvious  that,  in  an  institution  where,  in  order  to  meet  the 
constant  needs  of  those  who  seek  its  aid,  every  shilling 
must  be  carefully  expended,  only  a  small  sum  can  be 
devoted  to  literature  ;  but  it  may  only  have  to  be  made 
known  that  the  convalescents  really  need  a  few  cheerful 
volumes  to  help  them  along  the  road  from  sickness  to 
health,  and  out  of  the  abundance  of  some  teeming 
library  the  goodwill  offering  may  be  made. 

It  is  time  that  we — that  is  to  say,  the  kindly  and  judi- 
cious secretary,  Mr.  Horace  Green,  the  examining  physi- 
cian, Dr.  Lomas,  and  the  present  writer — should  yield  to 
the  influences  of  the  grand  appetising  climate  of  this  airy 
nook  of  the  English  coast,  and  after  a  short  turn  into  the 
poultry-yard,  a  glance  at  the  deliberate  cow,  and  a  pass- 
ing greeting  to  the  great  black  cat  with  collar  and  bell  and 
a  mew  that  is  almost  a  deep  bass  roar,  and  to  the  most 
exacting,  ugly,  and  voracious  pet  dog  it  was  ever  my  lot 
to  encounter — we  accept  the  invitation  to  test  the  quality 
of  the  Southdown  mutton  and  other  Seaford  fare,  with  a 
following  of  that  delicately  boiled  rice  and  jam  to  which 
the  healthy  palate  returns  with  childlike  appreciation. 

On  hospitable  thoughts  intent,  the  bright  and  active 
lady  who  is  superintendent  matron  of  the  hospital,  has 
for  the  time  adopted  us  into  her  hungry  family,  and  with 


94  "  ABO  UT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS." 

the  knowledge  of  the  effects  of  the  breeze  blowing 
over  that  high  bluff,  and  curling  the  waves  along  the 
shingle  ridge,  has  set  out  a  repast  in  her  own  pleasant 
parlour,  where  she  does  the  honours  of  the  institution 
with  a  simple  cheerful  grace  that  speaks  favourably 
for  the  administration  which  she  represents.  But  I  should 
now  be  writing  in  the  past  tense,  for  the  larger  building 
is  completed.  The  inmates  will  have  a  better  appointed 
home. 

In  order  to  maintain  the  objects  of  the  charity,  and  to 
ensure  the  comfort  of  those  for  whom  its  provisions  are 
intended,  some  well-considered  regulations  have  to  be 
adopted  and  enforced  ;  and  the  most  discouraging  cir- 
cumstances with  which  the  committee  and  their  officers 
have  to  contend,  are  those  which  arise  from  the  negli- 
gence of  subscribers  nominating  patients,  or  from  the 
demands  made  on  the  charity  by  those  who  constantly 
expect  more  benefits  from  the  institution  than  their  con- 
tributions would  represent  even  if  they  were  paid  three 
times  over. 

It  is,  perhaps,  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  people, 
anxious  to  secure  for  their  proteges  the  advantages  of  such 
means  of  recovery  as  are  represented  by  a  temporary 
hospital  where  there  has  only  been  one  death  in  five 
years,  should  readily  contribute  their  guinea  for  the  sake 
of  gaining  the  privilege,  even  though  they  may  add  to 
that  small  subscription  the  five  shillings  a  week  which  is 
the  sum  required  with  each  patient.  What  has  to  be 
complained  of,  however,  is  that  constant  attempts  are 
made  to  introduce  cases  which  are  so  far  from  being  con- 
valescent, that  they  are  still  suffering  from  disease,  and 
require  constant  medical  or  surgical  treatment.  In  order 
to  do  this,  nominations  are  frequently  obtained   from 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED.        95 

country  subscribers,  and  it  has  required  the  constant 
vigilance  of  the  examining  physician  and  the  committee 
to  avoid  the  distressing  necessity  of  obtaining  for  such 
patients  admission  to  other  hospitals,  or  sending  them 
back  to  their  own  homes,  not  only  without  having  re- 
ceived benefit  from  the  institution,  but  perhaps  injured 
by  the  journey  to  and  fro  when  they  were  in  a  weak  and 
suffering  condition. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  the  Seaford  Hospital  is 
not  for  the  sick,  but  for  persons  recovering  from  sickness, 
—those  for  whom  the  best  medicines  are  regular  and 
ample  meals,  grand  bracing  air,  sea-baths,  long  hours  of 
quiet  and  restorative  sleep,  and  that  general  direction  of 
their  daily  progress  towards  complete  recovery,  which 
will  often  make  them  strong  and  set  them  up  completely  f 
even  in  the  twenty-eight  days  of  their  sea-side  sojourn. 

To  send  patients  who  require  the  medical  care  and 
attendance  which  can  only  be  provided  in  a  hospital  for 
the  special  disorders  from  which  they  suffer,  or  who  are 
afflicted  with  incurable  diseases,  is  unjust,  both  to  the 
poor  creatures  themselves  and  to  the  charity  which  can- 
not receive  them. 

For  consumptive  patients,  except  in  the  early  or 
threatening  stage  of  phthisis,  Seaford  is  unsuitable,  but 
a  month  at  the  hospital  for  patients  of  consumptive  ten- 
dency has  been  known  to  produce  remarkably  beneficial 
results.  It  is  in  cases  of  recovery  after  rheumatism  and 
rheumatic  fever,  or  when  strength  is  required  after  painful 
or  exhausting  surgical  operations,  in  nervous  depression, 
debility,  pleurisy,  and  recovery  from  accidents,  that  the 
fine  air  is  found  to  be  wonderfully  invigorating  ;  for  Sea- 
ford is  high  and  dry,  the  subsoil  being  sand  resting  on 
chalk,  so  that  there  is  little  surface  evaporation,  while  the 


c;6  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THEKS  BUSINESS." 

shelter  afforded  by  Beachy  Head  screens  this  little  bay 
of  the  coast  from  the  east  wind. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  the  late  Bishop 
of  Winchester  should  have  joined  many  of  the  London 
clergy,  and  more  than  eighty  of  the  most  eminent  phy- 
sicians and  surgeons  connected  with  metropolitan 
hospitals,  to  recommend  this  charity  as  one  especially 
deserving  of  public  support.  Those  who  are  ever  so 
superficially  acquainted  with  the  homes  and  difficulties  of 
the  poorer  classes  in  London  know  that  the  period  of 
debility  after  sickness,  when  the  general  hospital  has  dis- 
charged the  patient,  or  when  the  parish  doctor  has  taken 
his  leave,  is  a  terrible  time.  Too  weak  to  work,  without 
means  to  buy  even  common  nourishment  at  the  crisis 
when  plentiful  food  is  requisite,  and  stimulated  to  try  to 
labour  when  the  heart  has  only  just  strength  to  beat, 
men  and  women  are  ready  to  faint  and  to  perish  unless 
helping  hands  be  held  out  to  them.  Try  to  imagine 
some  poor  cabman  or  omnibus-driver,  lying  weak  and 
helpless  after  coming  from  a  hospital ;  think  of  the  domes- 
tic servant,  whose  small  savings  have  all  been  spent  in  the 
endeavour  to  get  well  enough  to  take  another  place  ;  of 
the  poor  little  wistful,  eager-eyed  errand-boy,  scantily 
fed,  and  with  shaking  limbs,  that  will  not  carry  him  fast 
enough  about  the  streets.  Try  to  realise  what  a  boon  it 
mustbetoaletter-carrier,slowly  recovering  from  the  illness 
by  which  he  has  been  smitten  down,  or  to  the  London 
waiter,  worn  and  debilitated  by  long  hours  of  wearying 
attendance  to  his  duties,  to  have  a  month  of  rest  and, 
re-invigoration  at  a  place  like  this.  In  the  table  of  in- 
mates during  the  last  few  years  are  to  be  found  a  host 
of    domestic     servants,     mechanics     and     apprentices, 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED.        97 

warehousemen  and  labourers,  36  housewives  (there  is 
much  significance  in  that  word,  if  we  think  of  the  poor 
wife  or  mother  to  be  restored  to  her  husband  and  chil- 
dren), 46  needlewomen,  19  clerks,  15  teachers  (mark  that) 
41  school-children,  9  nurses,  1  policeman,  3  seamen  and 
watermen,  1  letter-carrier,  4  errand-boys,  7  Scripture- 
readers,  and  others  of  various  occupations. 

It  is  no  wonder,  I  say,  that  the  general  hospitals 
should  regard  this  Convalescent  Home  at  Seaford  as  a 
boon  ;  but,  unfortunately  for  the  charity,  the  appreciation 
which  it  receives  from  some  of  those  wealthy  and  mag- 
nificently-endowed institutions  operates  as  a  very  serious 
drain  on  its  own  limited  resources,  which  are  only  sup- 
plied by  voluntary  subscriptions,  contributions,  and 
legacies.  Every  subscriber  of  a  guinea  annually,  and 
every  donor  of  ten  guineas  in  one  sum,  has  the  privilege 
of  recommending  one  patient  yearly,  with  an  additional 
recommendation  for  every  additional  subscription  of 
one  guinea,  or  donation  of  ten  guineas.  The  payment 
of  five  shillings  a  week  by  each  patient  admitted  is  also 
required  by  the  guarantee  of  a  householder  written  on 
the  nomination  paper,  and  the  travelling  expenses  of  the 
patient  must  also  be  paid,  the  Brighton  Railway  Com- 
pany most  benevolently  conveying  patients  to  the  hos- 
pital by  their  quick  morning  train,  in  second-class  car- 
riages at  third-class  fare. 

Now  it  is  quite  obvious  that  the  five  shillings  a  week, 
though  it  removes  the  institution  from  the  position  of  an 
absolute  charity,  goes  but  a  very  short  distance  in  pro- 
viding for  the  needs  of  the  inmates,  and  when  the  guinea 
contribution  is  added  to  it,  there  is  still  a  very  wide  margin 
to  fill  before  much  good  can  be  effected.  Let  us  see,  then, 
what  is  the  effect  of  every  subscription  of  a  guinea  re- 

7 


98  "ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:' 

presenting  a  claim,  as  in  the  case  of   the  patients  sent 
from  the  general  hospitals. 

The  cost  of  those  admirable  medicines,  food  and  drink, 
wine,  milk,  and  sea-baths,  together  with  the  expenses 
of  administration,  and  the  rental  will  represent  at  least 
£4  Ss.  per  head  for  each  patient,  and  as  Guy's,  Bar- 
tholomew's, St.  Thomas's,  and  the  London  Hospitals,, 
each  subscribing  their  ten  guineas  annually,  demand 
their  ten  nominations  in  exchange,  the  account  stands 
thus : — 

For  each  case,  five  shillings  per  week  for  four  weeks, 
and  one  guinea  subscription =£2  is.,  which,  deducted 
from  the  actual  cost  {£4  Ss.),  leaves £2  ys.  to  be  paid  out 
of  the  funds  of  the  Seaford  Institution,  which,  on  ten . 
patients  a  year,  represents  £23  ic\r.  as  the  annual  contri- 
bution of  this  poor  little  charity  to  each  of  the  four  great 
charitable  foundations  of  the  metropolis. 

But  there  is  now  an  opportunity  for  acknowledg- 
ing this  obligation,  and  for  recognizing  the  useful  career 
of  this  really  admirable  institution.  The  lease  of  the 
present  house  has  already  expired,  and  the  committee 
have  been  obliged  to  give  up  possession.  It  is  there- 
fore necessary  to  support  the  new  hospital  for  those  who 
need  the  aid  that  such  a  charity  alone  can  give,  and  the 
building  has  already  been  erected,  only  a  few  yards 
further  in  the  shelter  of  the  bluff,  where  it  has  pro- 
vided another  home.  With  a  commendable  anxiety  to 
keep  strictly  within  their  probable  means,  the  committee 
have  decided  not  to  imitate  a  too  frequent  mode  of  pro- 
ceeding, by  which  a  large  and  splendid  edifice  would 
saddle  their  undertaking  with  a  heavy  debt,  and  perhaps 
cripple  resources  needed  for  carrying  on  their  actual 
work;  but  they  have  obtained  from  Mr.  Griming,  the 


WITH  THE  FEEBLE  AND  FAINT-HEARTED.       99 

architect,  a  plain  building  which  will  provide  for  their 
needs  for  some  time  to  come,  and  may  be  hereafter 
increased  in  accommodation  by  additions  that  will 
improve,  rather  than  detract  from,  its  completeness.  A 
great  establishment,  with  a  hundred  beds,  laundries, 
drying-houses,  and  hot  and  cold  sea-baths  on  the  pre- 
mises, would  cost  £  1 3,000  ;  and  as  the  actually  available 
funds  in  hand  for  building  purposes  were  not  more 
than  ;£5,ooo,  with  another  probable  £1,000  added  by 
special  donations  expected  during  the  year,  the  com- 
mittee, however  reluctantly,  folded  up  the  original 
plan,  and  estimated  the  cost  of  a  plain  unpretentious 
building,  calculated  at  first  to  receive  thirty-three  male 
and  thirty-three  female  patients,  but  capable  of  additions 
which  will  raise  its  usefulness  and  completeness  to  the 
higher  demand,  whenever  there  are  funds  sufficient  to 
pay  for  them.  The  expenditure  for  the  new  hospital 
was  about  £7000,  and,  should  the  anticipated  donations 
be  increased  fourfold,  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in 
crowning  the  work,  by  such  provisions  as  will  include 
the  full  number  of  a  hundred  faint  and  failing  men 
and  women  within  the  retreat  where  they  find  rest 
and  healing. 


WITH  THE  LITTLE  ONES. 

|ES,  and  amidst  the  mystery  of  suffering  and 
pain, — the  beginning  of  that  discipline  which 
commences  very  early,  and  continues,  for 
many  of  us,  during  a  whole  lifetime,  at  such 
intervals  as  may  be  necessary  for  the  consummation 
which  we  can  only  faintly  discern  when  we  begin  to  see 
that  which  is  invisible  to  the  eyes  of  flesh  and  of  human 
understanding,  and  is  revealed  only  to  the  higher  reason 
— the  essential  perception  which  is  called  faith. 

I  want  you  to  come  with  me  to  that  eastern  district 
of  the  great  city  which  has  for  so  long  a  time  been 
associated  with  accounts  of  distress,  of  precarious  earn- 
ings, homes  without  food  or  fire,  scanty  clothing,  dilapi- 
dated houses,  dire  poverty  and  the  diseases  that  come  of 
cold  and  starvation.  The  place  that  I  shall  take  you  to 
is  quite  close  to  the  Stepney  Station  of  the  North 
London  Railway.  The  district  is  known  as  Ratcliff; 
the  streets  down  which  we  shall  pass  are  strangely  des- 
titute of  any  but  small  shops,  where  a  front  "  parlour  " 
window  contains  small  stocks  of  chandlery  or  of  general 
cheap  odds  and  ends.  The  doorways  of  the  houses  are 
mostly  open,  and  are  occupied  by  women  and  children, 
of  so  poor  and  neglected  an  appearance,  that  we  need 


WITH  THE  LITTLE  ONES.  101 

no  longer  wonder  at  the  constant  demands  made  upon 
the  institution  which  we  are  about  to  visit.     Just  here 
the  neighbourhood  seems  to  have  come  to  a  dreary  ter- 
mination at  the  brink  of  the  river,  and  to  be  only  kept 
from  slipping  into  the  dark  current  by  two  or  three  big 
sheds  and  wharves,  belonging  to  mast,  rope,  and  block- 
makers,  or  others  connected  with  that  shipping  interest 
the  yards  of  which  are,  many  of  them,  deserted,  no 
longer  resounding  to  the  noise  of  hammers.     The  black 
spars   and  yards  of   vessels  alongside  seem  almost  to 
project   into   the  roadway  as  we  turn  the  corner  and 
stand  in  front  of  a  building,  scarcely  to  be  distinguished 
from  its  neighbours,  except  for  the  plain  inscription  on 
its  front,  "  East  London  Hospital  for  Children  and  Dis- 
pensary for  Women,"  and  for  a  rather  more  recent  ap- 
pearance of  having  had  the  woodwork  painted.     But  for 
this  there  would  be  little  more  to  attract   attention  than 
might   be   seen   in  any  of   the   sail-makers'  dwellings, 
stores,  and  lofts  in  the  district ;  and,  in  fact,  the  place 
itself  is — or  rather  was — a  sail-maker's  warehouse,  with 
trap-doors  in  the  rough  and  foot-worn  floors,  steep  and 
narrow  stairs,  bulks  and  baulks  of  timber  here  and  there 
in  the  heavy  ceilings  and  awkward  corners,  not  easily 
turned  to  account  in  any  other  business.     Some  of  these 
inconveniences  have  been  remedied,  and  the  trap-doors 
as  well  as  the  awkwardest  of  the  corners  and  the  bulks 
have  been  either  removed  or  adapted  to  present  pur- 
poses, for  the  business  is  to  provide  a  home  and  careful 
nursing   for  sick  children,  and  the  long  rooms  of  the 
upper  storeys  are  turned  into  wards,  wherein  stand  rows 
of  Lilliputian  iron  bedsteads,  or  tiny  cribs,  where  forty 
boys  and  girls,  some  of  them  not  only  babes  but  suck- 
lings, form  the  present  contingent  of  the  hundred  and 


102  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS." 

sixty  little  ones  who  have  been  treated  during  the  year. 
Not  a  very  desirable-looking  residence  you  will  say,  but 
there  are  a  good  many  inmates  after  all ;  and  the  scru- 
pulous cleanliness  of  the  place,  as  seen  from  the  very 
passage,  is  an  earnest  of  that  plan  of  making  the  best 
of  things  which  has  always  been  characteristic  of  this 
hospital  at  Ratcliff  Cross.  Some  eight  or  nine  grown- 
up folks,  and  from  thirty  to  forty  children,  make  a 
bright,  cheerful  home  (apart  from  the  suffering  and 
death  which  are  inseparable  from  such  a  place)  in  that 
old  sail-maker's  warehouse,  if  brightness  and  cheerful- 
aess  are  the  accompaniments  of  good  and  loving  work, 
LS  I  thoroughly  believe  they  are. 

It  was  during  the  terrible  visitation  of  cholera,  nearly 
twelve  years  ago,  that  this  work  of  mercy  was  initiated, 
and  the  manner  of  its  foundation  has  about  it  something 
so  pathetic  that  it  is  fitting  the  story  should  be  known, 
especially  as  the  earnest,  hopeful  effort  with  which  the 
enterprise  began  seems  to  have  characterised  it  to  the 
present  day.  Among  the  medical  men  who  went  about 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Poplar  and  Ratcliff  during  the 
epidemic,  was  Mr.  Heckford,  a  young  surgeon,  who, 
having  recently  come  from  India,  was  attached  to  the 
London  Hospital,  and  who  took  a  constant  and  active 
part  in  the  professional  duties  he  had  undertaken.  In 
that  arduous  work,  he,  as  well  as  others,  received  valu- 
able and  indeed  untiring  aid  from  the  ready  skill  and 
thoughtful  care  of  a  few  ladies,  who,  having  qualified 
themselves  as  nurses,  devoted  themselves  to  the  labour 
of  love  amongst  the  poor.  To  one  of  this  charitable 
sisterhood,  who  had  been  his  frequent  helper  in  the  time 
of  difficulty  and  danger,  the  young  surgeon  became 
attracted  by  the  force  of  a  sympathy  that  continued 


WITH  THE  LITTLE  ONES.  103 

after  the  plague  was  stayed  in  the  district  to  which  they 
had  given  so  much  care,  and  when  they  had  time  to  think 
of  themselves  and  of  each  other.  They  went  away  to- 
gether a  quietly  married  couple  ;  both  having  one  special 
aim  and  object  in  relation  to  the  beneficent  career  upon 
which  they  had  entered  in  company.  Knowing  from 
hardly-earned  experience  the  dire  need  of  the  dis- 
trict, they  at  once  began  to  consider  what  they  could 
do  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  the  women  and  children, 
so  many  of  whom  were  sick  and  languishing,  in  hunger 
and  pain,  amidst  conditions  which  forbade  their  recovery. 
If  only  they  could  make  a  beginning,  and  do  something 
towards  arresting  the  ravages  of  those  diseases  that  wait 
on  famine  and  lurk  in  foul  and  foetid  alleys; — if  they 
could  establish  a  dispensary  where  women — mothers  too 
poor  to  pay  a  doctor — could  have  medicine  and  careful 
encouragement ;  if  they  could  find  a  place  where,  be- 
ginning with  a  small  family  of  say  half  a  dozen,  they 
might  take  a  tiny  group  of  infants  to  their  home,  and  so 
set  up  a  centre  of  beneficent  action,  a  protest  against  the 
neglect,  the  indifference,  and  the  preventable  misery  for 
which  that  whole  neighbourhood  had  so  long  had  an 
evil  distinction. 

The  question  was,  how  to  make  a  beginning :  but  the 
young  doctor  and  his  wife  had  been  so  accustomed  to 
the  work  of  taking  help  to  the  very  doors  of  those  who 
needed  it,  that  all  they  wanted  was  to  find  a  place  in  the 
midst  of  that  down-east  district  where  they  could  them- 
selves live  and  work.  Out  of  their  own  means  they 
bought  the  only  available  premises  for  their  purpose — a 
rough,  dilapidated,  but  substantial,  and  above  all,  a  ven- 
tilable  sail-loft  with  its  adjacent  house  and  store-rooms, 
and  there  they  quietly  established  themselves  as  resi- 


104  "  ABO  UT  MY  FA  THEK'S  BUSINESS:' 

dents,  with  ten  little  beds,  holding  ten  poor  little  patients 
supported   by  themselves,   in  the  hope  that  voluntary 
aid  from  some  of  the  benevolent  persons  who  knew  what 
was  the  sore  need  of  the  neighbourhood  would  enable 
them  in  time  to  add  twenty  or  thirty  more,  when  the 
big  upper  storeys  should  be  cleansed  and  mended  and 
made  into  wards.     That  hope  was  not  long  in  being 
realised,  and  on  the  28th  of  January,  1868,  after  a  de- 
termined effort  to  maintain  the  institution  and  to  devote 
themselves  to  its  service,  a  regular  committee  was  formed 
and    commenced    its    undertakings,   the    founders    still 
remaining    and    working    with   unselfish   zeal.      From 
twenty  to  thirty  little  ones  were  received  from  out  that 
teeming  district,  where  a  large  hospital  with  ten  times 
the  number  of  beds  would  not  be  adequate  to  the  needs 
of  the  infant  population,  the  mothers  of  which  have  to 
work  to  earn  the  scanty  wages  which  in  many  cases 
alone  keep  them  from  absolute  starvation.    The  struggle 
to  maintain  the  wards  in  the  old  sail-lofts  was  all  the 
harder,   from  the  knowledge  that  in  at  least  half  the 
number  of  cases  where  admission  was  necessarily  refused, 
from  want  of  space  and  want  of  funds,  the  little  appli- 
cants were  sent  away  to  die,  or  to  become  helpless  inva- 
lids or  confirmed  cripples,  not  less  from  the  effects  of 
destitution — the  want  of  food  and  clothing — than  from 
the  nature  of  the  diseases  from  which  they  were  suffering. 
The   young    doctor  and   his   wife    dwelt   there,    and 
with  cultivated  tastes  and  accomplishments  submitted  to 
all  the  inconveniences  of  a  small  room  or  two,  from 
which  they  were  almost  ousted  by  the  increasing  need 
for  space.     With   a  bright  and   cheerful   alacrity   they 
adapted  those  very  tastes  and  accomplishments  to  sup- 
plement  professional   skill   and  tender  assiduous  care  1 


WITH  THE  LITTLE  ONES.  105 

the  lady — herself  in  such  delicate  health  that  her  hus- 
band feared  for  her  life,  and  friends  anxiously  advised 
her  to  seek  rest  and  change — used  books  and  music  to 
cheer  the  noble  work,  and  always  had  a  picture  on  her 
easel,  with  which  to  hide  the  awkward  bulges  and  pro- 
jections, or  to  decorate  the  bare  walls  and  brighten  them 
with  light  and  colour. 

It  was  at  Christmas-tide  seven  years  ago  that  I  first 
visited  the  hospital,  and  there  were  then  very  pleasant 
evidences  of  the  season  to  be  discovered  in  all  kinds  of 
festive  ornament  in  the  long  wards,  and  especially  in  the 
smaller  rooms,  where  this  loving  woman  had  attracted 
other  loving  women  around  her,  as  nurses  to  the  suffering 
little  ones  ;  and  was  there  and  then  engaged  in  the 
superintendence  of  a  glorious  Christmas-tree.  But  the 
time  came  when  the  hoped-for  support  having  arrived,. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Heckford  felt  that  they  could  leave  the 
family  of  forty  children  to  the  care  of  those  who  had 
taken  up  the  work  with  heartfelt  sympathy.  They  had 
laboured  worthily  and  well,  but,  alas  ! — the  reward  came 
late — late  at  least  for  him,  who  had  been  anxious  to 
take  his  wife  away  to  some  warmer  climate,  in  an  endea- 
vour to  restore  the  strength  that  had  been  spent  in  the 
long  effort  to  rear  a  permanent  refuge  for  sick  children 
in  that  dense  neighbourhood.  It  was  he  who  stood 
nearest  to  shadow-land, — he  who  was  soonest  to  enter 
into  the  light  and  the  rest  that  lay  beyond.  Mr.  Heck- 
ford died,  I  believe,  at  Margate,  after  a  short  period  of 
leisure  and  travel,  which  his  wife  shared  with  him.  His 
picture,  presented  by  her  to  the  charity  which  they  both 
founded,  is  to  be  seen  in  the  boys'  ward.  Another  por- 
trait of  him — a  portrait  in  words  written  by  the  late  Mr. 
Charles  Dickens,  who  visited  and  pathetically  described 


106  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS." 

the  children  and  their  hospital  in  December,  1868,  con- 
veys the  real  likeness  of  the  man. 

"  An  affecting  play  was  acted  in  Paris  years  ago,  called 
the  Children's  Doctor.  As  I  parted  from  my  Children's 
Doctor  now  in  question,  I  saw  in  his  easy  black  necktie, 
in  his  loose-buttoned  black  frock-coat,  in  his  pensive  face, 
in  the  flow  of  his  dark  hair,  in  his  eyelashes,  in  the  very 
turn  of  his  moustache,  the  exact  realisation  of  the  Paris 
artist's  ideal  as  it  was  presented  on  the  stage.  But  no 
romancer  that  I  know  of  has  had  the  boldness  to  pre- 
figure the  life  and  home  of  this  young  husband  and 
wife,  in  the  Children's  Hospital  in  the  East  of  London." 

What  the  hospital  was  then,  it  has  remained — but  with 
such  improvements  as  increased  funds  and  a  more  com- 
plete organisation  have  effected.  It  is  still  the  ark  of 
refuge  for  those  little  ones  who,  smitten  with  sudden  dis- 
ease, or  slowly  fading  before  the  baleful  breath  of  famine 
or  of  fever,  or  ebbing  slowly  away  from  life  by  the  fatal 
influences  that  sap  the  constitutions  of  the  young  in  such 
neighbourhoods,  are  taken  in  that  they  may  be  brought 
back  to  life,  or  at  worst  may  be  lovingly  tended,  that  the 
last  messenger  may  be  made  to  bear  a  smile. 

But  the  hope  for  the  future  of  this  most  admirable  in- 
stitution has  grown  to  fill  a  larger  space.  It  is  indeed 
essential  to  any  really  permanent  effort  in  such  a  district 
that  it  should  be  increased,  and  the  founders  looked 
forward  with  earnest  anticipations  of  the  time  when, 
gathering  help  from  without,  they  could  enter  upon  a 
larger  building,  which  will  soon  be  completed,  and  will 
be  more  adequate  to  the  needs  of  such  a  teeming 
population.  The  area  embracing  Poplar,  Mile  End, 
Whitechapel,  St.  George's,  Limehouse,  Ratcliff,  Shadwell, 
and  Wapping  numbers  some  400,000  inhabitants,  and 


WITH  THE  LITTLE  ONES.  107 

strangely  enough — as  it  will  seem  to  those  who  have  not 
yet  learnt  the  true  characteristics  of  the  really  deserving 
poor — many  of  the  distressed  people  about  that  quarter 
will  conceal  their  poverty,  and  strive  as  long  as  they  are 
able — so  that  when  at  last  they  go  to  ask  for  aid  the  case 
may  be  almost  hopeless,  and  the  delay  in  obtaining  ad- 
mission may  be  fatal.  There  are  already  so  many  more 
applicants  than  can  be  received  that  it  may  be  imagined 
what  must  be  the  vast  amount  of  alleviable  suffering 
awaiting  the  opportunity  of  wider  means  and  a  larger 
building.  It  would  be  easy  to  shock  the  reader  by  detail- 
ing many  of  the  more  distressing  diseases  from  which  the 
poor  little  patients  suffer,  but  on  visiting  the  wards  you 
are  less  shocked  than  saddened,  while  the  evident  rest  and 
care  which  are  helping  to  restore  and  to  sooth  the  sufferers 
ease  you  of  the  greater  pain  by  the  hope  that  they 
inspire. 

It  is  Sunday  noon  as  we  stand  here  in  the  dull  street 
where,  but  for  the  sudden  opening  of  a  frowsy  tavern  and 
the  appearance  of  two  or  three  thirsty  but  civil  customers, 
who  are  not  only  ready  but  eager  to  show  you  the  way 
to  the  "Childun's  'orsepital,"  there  would  be  little  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  a  thoroughfare  of  tenantless  houses.  Rat- 
cliff  is  at  its  dinner  at  present,  but  we  shall  as  we  go  back 
see  the  male  residents  leaning  against  the  doorposts 
smoking;  and  the  women  and  children  sitting  at  the  doors 
as  at  a  private  box  at  the  theatre,  discussing  the  sordid 
events  of  the  streets  and  the  small  chronicles  of  their  poor 
daily  lives. 

But  we  must  leave  the  cleanly-scrubbed  waiting-room 
and  its  adjoining  large  cupboard  which  does  duty  as  dis- 
penser's room.  It  is  dinnertime  here  too,  or  rather  it  has 
been,  and  there  are  evidences  of  some  very  jolly  feasting, 


ioS  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS." 

considering  that,  after  all,  the  banqueters  are  mostly  in 
bed  and  on  sick  diet,  which  in  many  cases  means  milk, 
meat,  eggs,  and  as  much  nourishment  as  they  can  safely 
take.  Indeed,  food  is  medicine  to  those  who  are  turn- 
ing the  corner  towards  convalescence — food  and  air — of 
which  latter  commodity  there  is  a  very  excellent  supply 
considering  the  kind  of  neighbourhood  we  are  in.  Here 
and  there  we  see  a  little  wan,  pinched,  wasted  face  lying 
on  the  pillow ;  a  listless,  transparent  hand  upon  the  coun- 
terpane— which  are  sad  tokens  that  the  tiny  sufferers  are 
nearing  the  eternal  fold  beyond  the  shadowy  threshold 
where  all  is  dark  to  us,  who  note  how  every  breath  be- 
speaks a  feebler  hold  on  the  world  of  which  they  have 
learnt  so  little  in  their  tiny  lives.  There  are  others  who 
are  sitting  up  with  picture-books,  or  waiting  to  have  their 
abscesses  dressed,  and  arms  bandaged,  or  eyes  laved  with 
cooling  lotion.  Hip-disease  and  diseases  of  the  joints  are 
evidence  of  the  causes  that  bring  so  many  of  the  little 
patients  here,  and  there  are  severe  cases  of  consumption 
and  of  affections  of  the  lungs  and  of  the  glands  ;  but  as  the 
little  fellow  wakes  up  from  a  short  nap,  or  catches  the  eye 
of  the  "  lady  nurse  " — a  lively  and  thoroughly  practical 
Irishwoman,  who  evidently  knows  how  to  manage,  and 
has  come  here,  after  special  training,  for  the  love  of  doing 
good — they  show  a  beaming  recognition  which  is  very 
pleasant  to  witness.     With  all  the  nurses  it  is  the  same. 

They  are  young  women  who,  receiving  small  pay,  have 
come  to  devote  themselves  to  the  work  for  Christ's  sake 
and  the  Gospel's — that  is  to  say,  for  the  love  of  humanity 
and  of  the  good  tidings  of  great  joy  that  announce  the 
love  of  Him  who  gave  Himself  for  us. 

In  the  girls'  ward  there  is  the  same  freshness  and  cleanli- 
ness of  the  place  and  all  its  belongings,  the  same  wonder- 


WITH  THE  LITTLE  ONES.  109 

ful  patience  and  courageous  endurance  on  the  part  of  the 
baby  inmates,  which  has  been  my  wonder  ever  since  we 
went  in.  Here  is  a  mite  of  a  girl  sitting  up  in  bed,  hold- 
ing a  moist  pad  to  her  eye,  her  poor  little  head  being  all 
bandaged.  She  never  utters  a  sound,  but  the  little  round 
face  is  set  with  a  determined  endurance.  "  What  is  she 
sitting  up  for?"  She  is  "waiting  to  see  muvver."  Another 
little  creature,  who  is  suffering  from  abscesses  in  the  neck, 
submits  to  have  the  painful  place  poulticed  only  on  the 
condition  that  she  shall  decide,  by  keeping  her  hand 
upon  the  warm  linseed-meal,  when  it  is  cool  enough  to  put 
on.  These  are  scarcely  pleasant  details,  and  there  are 
sights  here  which  are  very,  very  sad,  and  make  us  shrink 
— but  I  honestly  declare  that  they  are  redeemed  from 
being  repulsive  because  of  the  evidence  of  love  that  is  to 
be  witnessed, — the  awakening  of  the  tender  sympathies 
and  sweet  responses  of  the  childlike  heart.  But  for  its 
being  Sunday — which  involves  another  reason  to  be  men- 
tioned presently — the  beds  would  be  strewed  with  toys 
and  picture-books,  while  a  rocking-horse,  which  is  a  part 
of  the  hospital  property,  and  a  fit  kind  of  steed  to  draw 
the  "  hospital-carriage,"  which  is  represented  by  a  peram- 
bulator— would  probably  be  saddled  and  taken  out  of 
the  stable  on  the  landing.  On  the  topmost  storey  we 
come  to  the  real  infants,  the  little  babies,  one  of  whom 
is  even  now  in  the  midst  of  his  dinner,  which  he  takes 
from  a  feeding-bottle,  by  the  aid  of  an  india-rubber  tube 
conveniently  traversing  his  pillow. 

Everywhere  there  are  evidences  of  the  care  with  which 
the  work  is  carried  on,  and  as  we  descend  to  the  waiting- 
room  again  we  have  fresh  proofs  of  the  benefits  that  are 
being  effected  in  the  great  district,  by  the  provision 
made  for  the  little  creatures,  many  of  whom  would  other- 


no  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS:' 

wise  be  left  to  linger  in  pain  and  want.  For  the  waiting- 
room  is  filled — filled  with  mothers  and  elder  sisters  and 
little  brothers,  tearfully  eager  and  anxious  for  the  weekly- 
visit  to  the  fifty  children  upstairs.  Here  is  the  secret  of 
the  brave  little  patient  faces  in  the  beds  and  cots  above. 

It  is  infinitely  touching  to  think  how  the  prospect  of 
"  seeing  muvver"  sustains  that  chubby  little  sufferer, — 
how  the  expected  visit  nerves  the  stronger  ones  to  en- 
durance, and  sends  a  fresh  throb  of  life  through  those 
who  are  still  too  weak  to  do  more  than  faintly  smile,  and 
hold  out  a  thin  pale  hand. 

If  Mr.  Ashby  Warner,  the  Secretary  at  this  Hospital 
for  Sick  Children  at  Ratcliff  Cross,  could  but  send  some 
responsive  thrill  into  the  hearts  of  those  who,  having  no 
children  of  their  own,  yet  love  Christ's  little  ones  all  over 
the  world, — or  could  bring  home  to  the  fond  fathers  and 
mothers  of  strong  and  chubby  babes  the  conviction  that 
to  help  in  this  good  work  is  a  fitting  recognition  of  their 
own  mercies  ;  nay,  if  even  to  sorrowing  souls  who  have 
been  bereaved  of  their  dear  ones,  and  who  yet  believe 
that  their  angels  and  the  angels  of  these  children  also,  do 
constantly  behold  the  face  of  the  Father  which  is  in 
heaven,  there  would  come  a  keen  recognition  of  the 
blessedness  of  doing  something  for  the  little  ones,  as 
unto  Him  who  declares  them  to  be  of  His  kingdom — 
there  would  soon  be  no  lack  of  funds  to  finish  building 
that  great  new  hospital  at  Shadwell,  which  is  to  take 
within  its  walls  and  great  airy  wards  so  many  more  little 
patients,  to  help  and  comfort  by  advice  and  medicine  so 
many  more  suffering  mothers  and  sisters  than  could  be 
received  in  the  old  sail-loft  and  its  lower  warehouse  at 
Ratcliff  Cross.  For  the  hope  of  the  founders  and  their 
successors  has  at  last  being  realised — a  larger  building 


WITH  THE  LITTLE    ONES.  in 

than  they  had  at  first  dared  to  expect  is  to  be  erected 
on  ground  which  has  been  purchased,  still  within  the 
district  where  the  need  is  greatest — and  when  the  time 
comes  that  the  last  touch  of  carpenter  and  mason  shall 
have  been  given  to  the  new  home,  and  the  picture  of 
Mr.  Heckford  shall  be  hung  upon  another  wall,  there 
may  well  be  a  holiday  "  down  east" — as  a  day  of  thanks- 
giving and  of  gratitude,  to  those  who  may  yet  help  in 
the  work  by  giving  of  their  abundance. 


IN  THE  KINGDOM. 

F  such  are  the  kingdom  of  heaven;"  and  "who- 
soever doeth  it  unto  the  least  of  these  little 
ones,  doeth  it  unto  Me."  Surely  there  is  no 
need  to  comment  again  on  these  sayings  of 
Him  who,  in  His  infinite  childlikeness,  knew  what  must 
be  the  characteristics  of  His  subjects,  and  declared 
plainly  that  whosoever  should  enter  into  the  kingdom 
must  become  as  a  little  child.  One  thing  is  certain,  that 
those  who  are  within  that  kingdom,  or  expect  to  qualify 
themselves  for  it,  must  learn  something  of  the  Divine 
sympathy  with  which  Christ  took  the  babes  in  his  arms 
and  blessed  them.  Thank  God  that  there  is  so  much  of 
it  in  this  great  suffering  city,  and  that  on  every  hand  we 
see  efforts  made  for  the  rescue,  the  relief,  and  the  nur~ 
ture  of  sick  and  destitute  children.  Would  that  these 
efforts  could  relieve  us  from  the  terrible  sights  that  should 
make  us  shudder  as  we  pass  through  its  tumultuous 
streets,  and  witness  the  suffering,  the  depravity,  and  the 
want,  that  comes  of  neglecting  the  cry  of  the  little  ones, 
and  of  those  who  would  bring  them  to  be  healed  and 
sanctified. 

Only  just    now    I    asked   you    to    go   with    me    to 
Ratcliff  to  see  the  forty  tiny  beds  ranged  in  the  rooms 


IN  THE  KINGDOM.  113 

of  that  old  sail-maker's  warehouse  which  has  been  con- 
verted into  a  Hospital  for  Sick  Children.  There  is  some- 
thing about  this  neighbourhood  of  Eastern  London  that 
keeps  us  lingering  there  yet ;  something  that  may  well 
remind  us  of  that  star  which  shone  above  the  manger 
at  Bethlehem  where  the  Babe  lay.  The  glory  of  the 
heavenly  light  has  led  wise  men  and  women  to  see  how, 
in  reverence  for  the  childlikeness,  they  may  work  for  the 
coming  of  the  kingdom,  and  those  who  enter  upon  this 
labour  of  love,  begin — without  observation — to  find  what 
that  kingdom  really  is,  and  to  realise  more  of  its  mean- 
ing in  their  own  hearts. 

To  the  cradle  in  a  manger  the  wise  men  of  old  went  to 
offer  gifts.  To  a  cradle  I  would  ask  you  to  go  with  me 
to-day  ;  to  a  whole  homeful  of  cribs;  which  is  known  by 
a  word  that  means  crib  and  manger  and  cradle  all  in 
one — "The  Creche." 

There  is  something,  as  it  seems  to  me,  appropriate  in 
this  French  word  to  the  broad  thoroughfare  (so  like  one 
of  the  outer  boulevards  of  Paris)  out  of  which  we  turn 
when  we  have  walked  a  score  or  two  of  yards  from  the 
Stepney  Station,  or  where  some  other  visitors  alight 
from  the  big  yellow  tramway  car  running  from  Aldgate 
to  Stepney  Causeway.  The  Causeway  itself  is  a  clean, 
quiet  street,  and  is  so  well  known  that  the  first  passer-by 
can  point,,  it  out  to  you,  while,  if  the  inhabitants  of  the 
district  can't  quite  master  the  crunch  of  the  French  word, 
they  kn©w  well  enough  what  you  mean  when  you  ask  for 
the  " babies'  home,"  or  for  "Mrs.  Hilton's  nursery."  The 
home  itself  is  but  a  baby  institution,  for  it  is  only  five 
years  old,  but  it  might  be  a  very  Methuselah  if  it  were 
to  be  judged  by  the  tender,  loving  care  it  has  developed, 
and  the  good  it  has  effected,  not  only  on  behalf  of  the 

8 


1 14  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS." 

forty  sucklings  who  are  lying  in  their  neat  little  wire  cots 
upstairs,  like  so  many  human  fledglings  in  patent  safety 
cages,  and  for  the  forty  who  are  sprawling  and  toddling 
about  in  the  lower  nursery,  or  for  the  contingent  who  are 
singing  a  mighty  chorus  of  open  vowels  on  the  ground- 
floor  ;  but  also  in  the  hopeful  aid  and  tender  sympathy 
it  has  conveyed  to  the  toiling  mothers  who  leave  their 
little  ones  here  each  morning  when  they  go  out  to  earn 
their  daily  bread,  and  fetch  them  again  at  night,  knowing 
that  they  are  fresh  and  clean,  and  have  been  duly  nursed 
and  fed,  and  put  to  sleep,  and  had  their  share  of  petting 
and  of  play. 

The  sound  of  the  forty  singing  like  one  is  not  percep- 
tible as  we  approach  the  house,  which,  with  its  large  high 
windows  open  to  the  soft,  warm  air,  lies  very  still  and 
quiet.  The  wire-blinds  to  the  windows  near  the  street 
bear  the  name  of  the  institution,  and  over  the  doorway 
is  inscribed  the  fact  that  the  Princess  Christian  has  be- 
come the  patroness  of  this  charity,  which  appeals  to  all 
young  mothers,  and  to  every  woman  who  acknowledges 
the  true  womanly  love  for  children.  Each  day,  from 
twelve  to  four  o'clock,  visitors  are  welcomed,  except  on 
Saturdays,  when  the  closing  hour  is  two  o'clock,  as,  even 
in  some  of  the  factories  down  east,  the  half-holiday  is 
observed,  and  poor  women  working  at  bottle-warehouses 
and  other  places  have  the  happiness  of  taking  home  their 
little  ones,  and  keeping  them  to  themselves  till  the  fol- 
lowing Monday  morning.  Do  you  feel  inclined  to  ques- 
tion whether  these  poor,  toil-worn  women  appreciate  this 
privilege  ?  Are  you  ready  to  indulge  in  a  cynical  fear 
that  they  would  rather  forego  the  claim  that  they  are 
expected  to  assert  ?  Believe  me  you  are  wrong.  One  of 
the  most  hopeful  and  encouraging  results  of  the  tender 


IN  THE  KINGDOM.  115 

care  bestowed  upon  these  babes  of  poverty  is  that  of  sus- 
taining maternal  love,  and  beautifying  even  the  few  hours 
of  rest  and  family  reunion  in  the  squalid  rooms  where 
the  child  is  taken  with  a  sense  of  hope  and  pride  to 
lighten  the  burden  of  the  day.  Early  each  morning  the 
little  creatures  are  brought,  often  in  scanty  clothing,  some- 
times shoeless,  mostly  with  a  ready  appetite  for  break- 
fast. Then  the  business  of  matron  and  nurses  begins. 
But,  come,  let  us  go  in  with  the  children,  and  see  the 
very  first  of  it,  as  women,  poorly  clad,  coarse  of  feature, 
and  with  the  lines  of  care,  and  too  frequently  with  the 
marks  of  dissipation  and  of  blows  upon  their  faces,  come 
in  one  by  one  and  leave  their  little  living  bundles,  not 
without  a  certain  wistful,  softened  expression  and  an 
occasional  lingering  loving  look. 

The  house — stay,  there  are  actually  three  houses, 
knocked  into  one  so  as  to  secure  a  suite  of  rooms  on 
each  floor — is  as  clean  as  the  proverbial  new  pin ;  and 
as  we  ascend  the  short  flights  of  stairs,  there  is  a  sense 
of  lightness  and  airiness  which  is  quite  remarkable  in 
such  a  place,  and  is  by  some  strange  freak  of  fancy 
associated  with  the  notion  of  a  big,  pleasant  aviary — a 
notion  which  is  strengthened  by  our  coming  suddenly  into 
the  nursery  on  the  first-floor,  and  noting  as  the  most 
prominent  object  of  ornament  a  large  cage  containing 
some  sleek  and  silken  doves,  placed  on  a  stand  very  little 
above  the  head  of  the  tiniest  toddler  there. 

There  is  enough  work  for  the  matron,  her  assistant, 
and  the  four  or  five  young  nurses  who  receive  these  wel- 
come little  guests  each  morning.  The  rows  of  large 
metal  basins  on  the  low  stands  are  ready,  and  the  morn- 
ing's ablutions  are  about  to  commence,  so  we  will  return 
presently,  as  people  not  very  likely  to  be  useful  in  the 

8—2 


n6  "ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS." 

midst  of  so  intricate  an  operation  as  the  skilful  washing 
and  dressing  of  half  a  hundred  babies. 

There  is  plenty  to  see  in  the  neighbourhood  out  of 
doors,  but  we  need  not  wander  far  to  find  something  in- 
teresting, for  on  the  ground-floor  of  these  three  houses 
which  form  the  Creche — the  babies'  home — provision 
has  also  been  made  for  babies'  fathers,  in  the  shape  of 
"  a  British  Workman,"  or  working-man's  reading,  coffee, 
and  bagatelle  room,  with  a  library  of  readable  books,  and 
liberty  to  smoke  a  comfortable  pipe. 

Of  the  servants'  home,  which  is  another  branch  of  this 
cluster  of  charitable  institutions,  we  have  no  time  to 
speak  now,  for  our  visit  is  intended  for  the  Creche,  and 
we  are  already  summoned  to  the  upper  rooms  by  the 
sound  of  infant  voices.  Doubt  not  that  you  will  be 
welcomed  on  the  very  threshold,  for  here  comes  an 
accredited  representative  of  the  institution,  just  able  to 
creep  on  all  fours  to  the  guarded  door,  thence  to  be 
caught  up  by  the  gentle-faced  young  nurse,  who  at  once 
consigns  the  excursionist  to  a  kind  of  square  den  or 
pound,  formed  of  stout  bars,  and  with  the  space  of  floor 
which  it  encloses  covered  by  a  firm  mattrass.  There,  in 
complete  safety,  and  with  two  or  three  good  serviceable 
and  amiably-battered  toys,  the  young  athletes  who  are 
beginning  to  practise  the  difficult  feat  of  walking  with 
something  to  hold  by,  are  out  of  harm's  way,  and  may 
crawl  or  totter  with  impunity.  They  have  had  their 
breakfast  of  bread  and  milk,  and  are  evidently  beginning 
the  day,  some  of  them  with  a  refreshing  snooze  in  the 
little  cribs  which  stand  in  a  row  against  a  wall,  bright, 
as  all  the  walls  are,  with  coloured  pictures,  while  in  spaces, 
or  on  low  tables  here  and  there,  bright-hued  flowers  and 
fresh  green  plants  are  arranged,  so  that  the  room,  neces- 


IN  THE  KINGDOM.  117 

sarily  bare  and  unencumbered  with  much  furniture,  is  so 
pleasantly  light  and  gay,  that  we  are  again  reminded  of 
a  great  bird-cage.  Out  here  in  a  little  ante-room  is  a 
connected  row  of  low,  wooden  arm-chairs,  made  for  the 
people  of  Lilliput,  and  each  furnished  with  a  little  tray 
or  table,  and,  drumming  expectantly  and  with  a  visible 
interest  in  the  proceeding,  sit  a  line  of  little  creatures, 
amidst  whom  a  nurse  distributes  her  attentions,  by  feed- 
ing them  carefully  with  a  spoon,  just  as  so  many  young 
blackbirds  might  be  fed.  Already  some  of  the  little 
nurslings  are  sitting  up  in  their  cribs,  quietly  nodding 
their  round  little  heads  over  some  cherished  specimen  of 
doll  or  wooden  horse.  One  wee  mite  of  a  girl,  quite  un- 
able to  speak,  except  inarticulately,  holds  up  the  figure 
of  a  wooden  lady  of  fashion,  with  a  wistful  entreaty 
which  we  fail  to  understand,  till  the  quick-eyed  lady  who 
accompanies  us  spies  a  slip  of  white  tape  in  the  tiny 
hand,  and  at  once  divines  that  it  is  to  be  bound  about 
the  fashionable  waist,  as  an  appropriate  scarf,  and  at  once 
performs  this  finishing  stroke  of  the  toilet,  to  the  im- 
measurable satisfaction  of  everybody  concerned.  This 
is  in  the  upper  room,  the  real  baby  nursery,  where  the 
age  of  some  of  the  inmates  is  numbered  by  weeks  only, 
and  there  is  in  each  swinging  cot  a  sweet,  sleepy  sense 
of  enjoyment  of  the  bottle  which  forms  the  necessary 
appliance  of  luncheon-time. 

At  the  heads  of  several  of  these  cots  are  inscribed  the 
names  of  charitable  donors,  happy  parents,  bereaved 
mothers,  sympathetic  women  with  babies  of  their  own, 
either  on  earth  or  in  heaven,  who  desire  to  show  gratitude? 
faith,  remembrance,  by  this  token  of  their  love  for  the 
childlikeness  of  those  they  love  and  cherish  in  their 
deepest  memories,  their  most  ardent  hopes.      In  more 


i  iS  "ABOUT  MY  FA THER'S  BUSINESS." 

than  one  of  the  little  beds  there  are  signs  of  the  poverty 
or  the  sickliness  in  which  the  children  were  born,  and 
the  effects  of  which  this  home,  with  its  freshness  and 
light  and  food,  is  intended  to  remedy.  No  cases  of 
actual  disease  are  here,  however,  since  a  small  infirmary 
for  children  suffering  from  more  serious  ailments  has 
been  added  to  the  institution,  and  the  Sick  Children's 
Hospital  is  but  three  street  lengths  distant. 

The  first  most  remarkable  experience  which  meets  the 
visitor  unaccustomed  to  observe  closely,  is  the  freshness 
and  beauty  of  the  children  in  this  place.  Squalid  misery, 
dirt,  neglect,  starvation,  so  disguise  and  debase  even  the 
children  in  such  neighbourhoods,  that  squeamish  senti- 
mentality turns  away  at  the  first  glance,  and  is  apt  to 
conclude  that  there  are  essential  differences  between  the 
infancy  of  Tyburnia  or  Mayfair  and  the  babyhood  of 
Ratcliff  and  Shadwell.  Yet  I  venture  to  assert  that  if 
Mr.  Millais  or  some  other  great  painter  were  to  select  his 
subjects  for  a  picture  from  these  rooms  of  the  old  house 
in  Stepney  Causeway,  he  would  leave  the  galleries  of 
Burlington  House  echoing  with  "  little  dears,"  and  "what 
a  lovely  child  !"  and  popular  prejudice  would  conclude 
that  from  birth  the  little  rosebud  mouths  were  duly 
fitted  with  silver  spoons  instead  of  being  scant  even  of 
the  bluntest  of  wooden  ladles. 

At  this  Creche  at  Stepney  Causeway  the  reasons  of 
the  true  childlike  freshness,  alacrity,  and  even  the  en- 
gaging impetuosity  and  loving  confidence  which  charac- 
terise these  little  ones,  is  not  far  to  seek.  As  you  came 
up  you  noticed  row  after  row  of  blue  check  bags,  hang- 
ing in  a  current  of  fresh  air  on  the  wall  of  the  staircase. 

Those  bags  contain  the  clothes  in  which  these  children 
are  brought  to   the  Home  in  the  morning.     They  are 


IN  THE  KINGDOM.  119 

changed  with  the  morning's  ablutions,  and  clean  garments 
substituted  for  them  until  the  mothers  come  in  the  even- 
ing to  fetch  away  their  bairnies,  and  by  that  time  they 
have  been  aired  and  sweetened.  It  is  noticeable  that  this 
has  the  effect  in  many  instances  of  inducing  the  women  to 
make  praiseworthy  efforts  to  improve  the  appearance  of 
the  children,  and,  indeed,  the  whole  tendency  of  the  treat- 
ment of  the  little  ones  is  to  develop  the  tenderness  and  love 
which  lie  deep  down  in  the  hearts  of  the  mothers.  Even 
the  endearing  nicknames  almost  instinctively  bestowed 
upon  the  tiny  darlings  have  a  share  in  promoting  this  feel- 
ing, and  the  pretty  rosy  plump  little  creatures,  or  the  quaint 
expressive  bright-eyed  babies,  who  are  called  "  Rosie," 
u  Katie,"  "  Pet,"  "  Little  Old  Lady,"  and  so  on,  all  have 
a  kind  of  happy  individuality  of  their  own  in  the  regards 
of  the  dear  lady  who  founded  and  still  directs  the  insti- 
tution, and  in  those  of  the  nurses  who  tend  them.  Some- 
times the  names  arise  from  some  little  incident  occuring 
when  the  children  are  first  brought  there,  as  well  as  from 
the  engaging  looks  and  manners  of  the  little  ones  them- 
selves. "  The  King,"  is  a  really  fine  baby-boy,  the  re- 
cognised monarch  of  the  upper  nursery,  but  his  sway  is 
strictly  constitutional  ;  while  a  pretty  little  wistful,  plump 
lassie,  is  good-humouredly  known  as  "  Water  Cresses," 
and  has  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  the  name,  for  it 
designates  the  business  by  which  a  hard-working  mother 
and  elder  sister  earn  the  daily  bread  for  the  family. 

Did  I  say  that  the  charge  for  each  child  is  twopence 
■daily  ?  Nominally  it  is  so  ;  and  let  those  who  desire  to 
know  something  of  the  real  annals  of  the  poor  remember 
that  even  this  small  sum — which  of  course  cannot  ade- 
quately represent  anything  like  the  cost — is  not  easily 
subtracted  from  the  scanty  earnings  of  poor  women  en- 


1 20  "  ABO  UT  MY  FA  THER'S  B  US  I  NESS." 

gaged  in  slopwork,  or  selling  dried  fish,  plants,  crockery, 

and  small  wares  in  the  streets,  or  going  out  to  work  in 

warehouses,  rope-walks,  match-making,  box-making,  and 

other  poor  employments,  where  the  daily  wages  will  not 

reach  to  shillings,  and  sometimes  are  represented  only  in 

the  pence  column.     Let  it  be  remembered,  too,  that  the 

husbands  of  these  women  (those  who  are  not  prematurely 

widows,  or  whose  husbands  have  not  deserted  them)  are 

employed  as  dock  labourers,  and  are  often  under  the 

terrible  curse  of  drink,  or  are  in  prison,  while  the  women 

struggle  on  to  support  the  little  ones,  who  but  for  this 

institution,   would  perhaps  be  left — hungry,  naked,  and 

sickly — to  the  care  of  children  only  two  or  three  years 

older  than  themselves  ;  or  would  be  locked  in  wretched 

rooms    without    food  or  fire  till  the  mother  could  toil 

homeward,  with  the  temptation  of  a  score  of  gin-shops 

in  the  way. 

Each  of  the  bright  intelligent  little  faces  now  before 
us  has  its  history,  and  a  very  suggestive  and  pathetic 
history  too. 

Look  at  this  little  creature,  whose  pet  name  of  Fairy 
bespeaks  the  loving  care  which  her  destitute  babyhood 
calls  forth  ;  she  is  only  ten  months  old,  and  her  mother 
is  but  nineteen,  the  widow  of  a  sailor  lost  at  sea  two 
months  before  the  baby  was  born. 

Katie,  of  the  adult  age  of  five  years,  is  the  child  of  a 
man  who  works  on  barges.  Rosie,  one  of  the  first  in- 
mates, has  a  drunken  dock-labourer  for  a  father,  and  her 
mother  is  dead.  Dicky  represents  the  children  whose 
father,  going  out  to  sea  in  search  of  better  fortune  for 
wife  and  children,  is  no  more  heard  of,  and  is  supposed 
to  be  dead.  "  The  King"  is  fatherless,  and  his  mother 
works  in  a  bottle-warehouse.     The  pathetic   stories  of 


IN  THE  KINGDOM.  121 

these  children  is  told  by  Mrs.  Hilton  herself,  in  the  little 
simple  reports  of  this  most  admirable  charity.  They 
are  so  touching,  that  I  cannot  hope  to  reproduce  them 
in  any  language  so  likely  to  go  straight  to  the  heart  as 
that  in  which  you  may  read  them  for  yourself  if  you  will 
either  visit  the  Creche,  or  send  ever  so  small  a  donation, 
and  ask  for  a  copy  of  the  modest  brown-covered  little 
chronicle  of  these  baby-lives.  Standing  here  in  the  two 
nurseries,  where  the  dolls  and  Noah's  arks,  the  pictures- 
and  the  doves,  nay,  even  the  baby-jumpers  suspended 
from  the  ceilings,  are  but  accessories  to  the  clasp  of  loving 
arms  and  the  softly-spoken  words  of  tender  womanly 
kindness,  I  wonder  why  all  one  side  of  Stepney  Cause- 
way has  not  been  demanded  by  a  discriminating  public 
for  the  extension  of  such  an  institution.  Loitering  in 
the  lower  room,  where  one  little  bright  face  is  lifted  up 
to  mine,  as  the  tiny  hands  pluck  at  my  coat-skirt,  and 
another  chubby  fist  is  busy  with  my  walking-stick,  I 
begin  to  think  of  the  workhouse  ward,  where  mothers 
are  separated  from  their  children  night  and  day  ;  of  a 
prison,  where  I  have  seen  a  troop  of  little  boys,  and 
a  flogging-room  provided  by  a  beneficent  Government 
for  the  recognition  by  the  State  of  children  who  had 
qualified  themselves  for  notice  by  the  commission  of 
what  the  law  called  crime. 

A  pleasant  odour  of  minced  beef,  gravy,  and  vegeta- 
bles, known  as  "  Irish  stew,"  begins  to  steal  upon  the  air. 
The  wooden  benches  in  one  of  the  rooms  are  suddenly 
turned  back,  and  like  a  conjuring  trick,  convert  them- 
selves into  tiny  arm-chairs,  with  convenient  trays  in  front 
for  plates  and  spoons.  The  little  voices — forty  like  one 
— strike  up  a  fresh  chant,  and  a  whisper  of  rice-pudding 
is  heard.      So  we  go  out,  wondering  still,  and  with  a 


122  "  ABOUT  M  Y  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:' 

wish  that  from  every  nursery  where  children  lisp  "  grace 
before  meat,"  some  gracious  message  could  be  brought 
to  aid  and  strengthen  those  who  believe  with  me  that 
the  most  profitable  investment  of  political  economy,  the 
most  certain  effort  of  philanthropy,  is  to  begin  with  the 
men  and  women  of  the  future,  and  so  abate  the  fearful 
threatenings  of  coming  pauperism,  and  the  still  more  ter- 
rible menace  of  a  permanent  "  criminal  class." 

The  policy  of  the  authorities,  says  Mrs.  Hilton,  in 
her  interesting  narrative  of  the  Creche,  in  stopping  out- 
door relief  to  poor  widows  with  children  is  causing  much 
sorrow.  The  2s.  6d.  or  $s.  received  from  the  parish 
secured  their  rent,  and  they  managed,  with  shirt-making 
or  trouser-fmishing,  to  earn  a  bare  subsistence  ;  but  now 
the  battle  for  a  mere  existence  is  terrible.  Doubtless, 
the  children  would  be  better  cared  for  in  the  House,  but 
mothers  cannot  be  persuaded  to  give  them  up.  One 
such  case  has  just  passed  under  my  notice  ;  but  the 
woman  shall  speak  for  herself.  "'  Oh,  Mrs.  Hilton,  they 
have  taken  off  my  relief ! — I,  with  four  little  ones  who 
cannot  even  put  on  their  shoes  and  stockings.  They 
offer  me  the  House  ;  but  I  never  can  give  up  my  chidren. 
Look  at  baby  ;  he  is  ten  months  old  ;  his  father  died 
of  small-pox  six  months  before  he  was  born  ;  he  was 
only  ill  five  days.'  I  told  her  I  was  afraid  she  would 
not  be  able  to  earn  enough  to  keep  them  all.  '  Well/ 
she  said,  '  I  must  try — I  will  never  go  into  the  House.' " 

"  But  these  women  have  very  little  feeling  for  their 
children,  they  are  so  low  and  brutalised."  Are  they  ? 
Let  those  who  think  so  visit  this  Cradle  Home,  and 
witness  the  bearing  of  the  mothers  who  come  to  take 
their  little  ones  home,  or  to  nurse  the  sucklings  at  in- 
tervals snatched  from  work.     Let  them  hear  what  such 


IN  THE  KINGDOM.  123 

poor  women  will  do  for  children  not  their  own,  even  to 
the  extent  (as  recently  took  place,  in  one  instance,  at 
least)  of  sharing  with  their  less  necessitous  babes  the 
natural  sustenance  that  the  mother  cannot  always 
give. 

Sixty-five  children  received  daily  and  a  hundred  or 
more  on  the  books,  with  space  needed  for  many  more 
than  can  be  admitted  ;  children  who,  some  of  them  infants 
as  they  are,  have  learned  to  lisp  profane  oaths  and  babble 
in  foul  language,  and  to  give  way  to  furious  outbursts  of 
passion,  the  result  of  neglect  and  evil  example,  and  the 
life  of  the  street  and  the  gutter.  It  is  but  a  short  time, 
however,  before  this  strange  dreadful  phase  of  the  dis- 
torted child  mind  disappears,  and  the  pet  name  is  be- 
stowed along  with  the  gentle  kindness  that  obliterates 
the  evil  mimicry  of  sin.  The  baby  taken  home  from 
this  purer  atmosphere  of  love  becomes  a  messenger  of 
grace  to  many  a  poor  household,  as  the  short  annals  of 
the  Creche  will  tell ;  and  even  the  pet  names  themselves 
are  adopted  by  the  mothers  in  speaking  of  and  to  their 
own  children.  One  short  story  from  the  first  report  sent 
out  by  Mrs.  Hilton,  and  we  will  go  our  way  with  a  hope 
that  some  words  of  ours  may  win  a  fresh  interest  for  these 
little  ones. 

"A  precious  babe  died,  and  the  mother,  too  poor  to 
bury  it,  sent  for  a  parish  coffin.  The  child  was  very 
dear  to  us,  and  we  had  named  her  our  nursery  Queen 
which  had  degenerated  into  '  Queenie.'  It  was  a  sore 
trial  to  us  to  see  the  golden  curls  mingled  with  sawdust, 
which  is  all  that  was  placed  in  the  coffin  ;  and  yet  we 
could  not  spend  public  funds  on  the  funeral,  and  feared 
to  do  it  privately.  In  a  few  hours  a  mother  came  and 
said,  '  Come  and  look  at  your  Queenie  now.'     We  went 


124  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS" 

and  saw  that  loving  hands  had  softened  all  the  harsh 
outlines.  A  little  bed  and  pillow  had  been  provided,  a 
frill  placed  round  the  edge,  and  some  children  had  lain 
fresh-gathered  flowers  on  the  darling's  breast.  The  cost 
had  been  g^d.,  paid  for  by  those  mothers,  and  although 
so  freely  and  lovingly  given,  it  was  the  price  of  more  than 
a  meal  each." 

If  every  mother  in  London  with  a  well-stocked  larder 
would  give  the  price  of  a  meal  for  the  sake  of  a  living 
child — but,  there !  my  duty  is  not  to  beg,  but  to  de- 
scribe. 


WITH  LOST  LAMBS. 

NLY  quite  lately  I  had  to  write  about  the  old 
French  colony  in  Spitalfields,  and  of  the 
changes  that  have  come  over  entire  neighbour- 
hoods which  were  once  associated  with  what 
is  now  a  failing  industry,  or  rather  with  one  which,  so 
far  as  London  is  concerned,  has  nearly  died  out  alto- 
gether. 

Not  that  the  public  has  ceased  to  hear  sundry  reports 
of  those  quarters  of  the  metropolis  of  which  the  name 
of  Bethnal  Green  is  an  indication  as  suggesting  dire 
poverty,  neglected  dwellings,  poorly-paid  callings,  and 
constant  distress.  Some  few  years  ago  it  became  quite 
a  fashion  for  newspaper  special  reporters  (following  in 
the  wake  of  one  or  two  writers  who  had  begun  to  tell 
the  world  something  of  the  truth  of  what  they  knew  of 
these  sad  regions)  to  make  sudden  amateur  excursions 
beyond  Shore  ditch,  for  the  purpose  of  picking  up 
material  for  "  lurid"  articles  about  foul  tenements,  fever, 
hunger,  want,  and  crime.  Bethnal  Green  became  quite 
a  by-word,  even  at  the  West  End,  and  certain  spasmodic 
efforts  in  the  direction  of  charitable  relief  were  made  by 
well-meaning  people,  so  that  for  a  time  there  was  danger 
of  a  new  kind  of  demoralisation  of  the  "  low  neighbour- 


126  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:' 

hood,"  and  the  price  of  lodgings,  even  in  the  wretched 
tenements  of  its  notorious  streets,  were  expected  to  rise 
in  proportion  to  the  demand  made  by  emigrants  from 
other  less  favoured  localities,  to  which  the  special  corre- 
spondent had  not  at  that  time  penetrated.  One  good 
work  was  effected  by  the  attention  of  sanitary  authori- 
ties being  called  to  the  fever  dens  during  a  time  of  ter- 
rible epidemic,  and  a  certain  provision  of  medical  aid, 
together  with  purification  of  drains,  whitewashing  of 
rooms,  and  clearing  of  sties  and  dustheaps,  was  the 
result.  This  was  but  temporary,  however  ;  and  those  who 
best  know  the  neighbourhood  lying  between  Shoreditch 
and  Bethnal  Green,  and  disclaimed  by  the  local  authori- 
ties of  both  because  of  its  misery  and  dilapidation,  are 
also  aware  that  in  various  parts  of  the  whole  great 
district  from  the  Hackney  Road  to  Bishopsgate,  and 
so  embracing  Spitalfields  and  part  of  Whitechapel,  far 
away  to  Mile  End  and  "  Twig  Folly,"  there  can  be  dis- 
covered more  of  want,  hunger,  and  disease  than  could 
exist  in  any  free  city  under  heaven,  if  men  were  not  such 
hypocrites  as  to  defy  and  disregard  the  laws  which  yet 
they  claim  to  have  a  hand  in  framing,  and  a  power  to 
enforce. 

Only  those  who  are  personally  acquainted  with  such 
a  district  can  conceive  what  is  the  condition  of  the 
children  of  its  streets,  and  yet  every  ordinary  wayfarer 
of  the  London  thoroughfares  may  note  to  what  a  life 
some  of  them  are  committed.  About  the  outskirts  of 
the  markets,  round  the  entrances  to  railway  stations, 
cowering  in  the  shadows  of  dark  arches,  or  scrambling 
and  begging  by  the  doors  of  gin-shops  and  taverns,  the 
boys — and  what  is  even  worse,  the  girls — are  to  be  seen 
daily  and  nightly,  uncared  for,  till  they  have  learnt  how 


WITH  LOST  LAMBS.  127 

to  claim  the  attention  of  a  paternal  government  by  an 
offence  against  the  law.  When  once  the  child,  who  is 
a  mere  unnoted  fraction  of  the  population,  has  so  far 
matriculated  in  crime  as  to  warrant  the  interposition  of 
the  police,  he  or  she  becomes  an  integer  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  be  dealt  with  by  a  magistrate.  Let  an  in- 
fancy of  neglect  and  starvation  lead  to  the  reckless  pil- 
fering of  a  scrap  of  food  from  a  counter,  or  the  abstrac- 
tion of  something  eatable  or  saleable  from  a  market-cart 
or  a  porter's  sack,  and  the  little  unclassified  wretch  is 
added  as  another  unit  to  a  body  recognised,  and  in  some 
sense  cared  for,  by  the  State.  As  a  member  of  the  great 
"criminal  class,"  the  juvenile  thief  becomes  of  immediate 
importance.  Even  though  the  few  juvenile  criminal  re- 
formatories be  full,  the  gaol  doors  are  open,  and  the 
teachings  of  evil  companionship  are  consummated  by 
the  prison  brand.  The  individual  war  against  society 
gains  strength  and  purpose,  for  society  itself  has  acknow- 
ledged and  resented  it.  The  child  has  entered  on  a 
career,  and  unless  some  extra  legal  interposition  shall 
succeed  in  changing  the  course  of  the  juvenile  offender 
by  assuming  a  better  guardianship,  the  boy  may  become 
an  habitual   thief,  a   full-fledged  London   ruffian ;   the 

girl ? 

It  was  with  a  deep  sense  of  the  terrible  significance  of 
this  question,  that  a  small  party  of  earnest  gentlemen 
met,  twenty-seven  years  ago,  in  that  foul  neighbourhood 
to  which  I  have  referred,  to  consider  what  should  be 
done  to  rescue  the  deserted  and  destitute  girls,  some  of 
whom  had  already  been  induced  to  attend  a  ragged 
school,  which  was  held  in  a  dilapidated  building  that  had 
once  been  a  stable. 


128  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THEKS  B USINESS." 

These  thoughtful  workers  included  among  them  two 
men  of  practical  experience ;  one  of  them,  Mr.  H.  R. 
Williams,  the  treasurer  of  the  present  institution,  the 
other  the  Rev.  William  Tyler,  whose  bright  genial  pre- 
sence has  long  been  a  power  among  the  poor  of  that  dis- 
trict, where  even  the  little  ragged  children  of  the  streets 
follow  him,  and  lisp  out  his  name  as  the  faithful  shepherd, 
who  both  gives  and  labours  in  one  of  the  truest  "  cures 
of  souls"  to  be  found  in  all  great  London.  To  them 
soon  came  the  present  honorary  secretary,  Mr.  J.  H. 
Lloyd,  a  gentleman  already  familiar  with  teaching  the 
poor  in  a  neighbouring  district  no  less  wretched  and 
neglected.  They  were  the  right  men  for  the  business  in 
hand,  and  therefore  they  began  by  moving  sluggish  boards 
and  commissions  to  put  in  force  the  sanitary  laws — and, 
in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  landlords  with  vested  in- 
terests in  vile  tenements  let  out  to  whole  families  of 
lodgers  from  garret  to  basement,  and  of  the  malignant 
•opposition  of  owners  of  hovels  where  every  abomination 
was  rife,  and  pigs  littered  in  the  yards,  while  coster- 
mongers  shared  the  cellars  with  their  donkeys — insisted 
on  the  surrounding  streets  being  paved  and  drained,  and 
some  of  the  houses  being  whitewashed  and  made  weather- 
proof. 

Nothing  less  could  have  been  done,  for  the  terrible 
cholera  epidemic  was  already  raging  in  that  tangle  of 
courts  and  alleys.  Application  was  at  once  made  for  a 
share  from  the  Mansion  House  Relief  Fund,  and  the 
committee  had  to  use  every  available  shilling  in  order  to 
supply  food  and  medicine,  blankets  and  clothing,  to  the 
wretched  families  ;  to  visit  whom,  a  regular  relief  corps 
was  organised,  carrying  on  its  beneficent  and  self-deny- 
ing work,  until  the  plague  began  to  be  stayed.     Then 


WITH  LOST  LAMBS.  129 

with  scarcely  any  money,  but  with  unabated  hope  and 
fervid  faith,  this  little  company  of  men  and  women  began 
to  consider  what  they  should  do  to  found  a  Refuge  for 
the  children  (many  of  them  orphans,  and  quite  friend- 
less) who  were  everywhere  to  be  seen  wandering  about, 
or  alone  and  utterly  destitute  in  the  bare  rooms  that  had 
been  their  homes.  There  -were  already  certain  institu- 
tions to  which  boys  could  be  sent,  for  then,  as  now,  the 
provision  for  boys  was  far  greater  than  for  girls.  This  is 
one  of  the  strange,  almost  inexplicable  conditions  of 
charitable  effort,  and  at  that  time  it  was  so  obvious 
which  was  the  greater  need,  that  the  committee  at  once 
determined  to  commence  a  building  on  a  waste  piece  of 
land  which  had  been  purchased  close  by,  and  to  devote 
it  to  the  reception  of  thirty  destitute  girls,  who  should 
be  snatched  from  deadly  contamination,  and  from  the 
association  of  thieves  and  depraved  companions. 

Surely,  if  slowly,  the  work  went  on,  the  plan'  of  the 
building  being  so  prepared  that  it  could  be  extended  as 
the  means  of  meeting  the  growing  need  increased.  Al- 
most every  brick  was  laid  with  thoughtful  care,  and 
when  subscriptions  came  slowly  in,  the  funds  were  fur- 
nished among  the  committee  themselves  rather  than  the 
sound  of  plane  and  hammer  should  cease  ;  till  at  last, 
when  the  King  Edward  Ragged  School  and  Girl's 
Refuge  was  completed,  a  large  edifice  of  three  spacious 
storeys  had  superseded  the  old  ruinous  stable  amidst 
its  foetid  yards  and  sheds,  and,  what  was  more,  the 
building  was  paid  for,  and  a  family  of  children  had 
been  gathered  within  its  sheltering  walls.  At  the 
time  of  my  first  visit  to  the  institution  no  more  than 
twenty,  had  been  taken  into  this  Refuge  ;  but  every 
foot  of  the  building  was  utilised  until  the  money  should 

9 


1 30  «  ABOUT  MY  FA THEKS  BUSINESS? 

be  forthcoming  to  add  to  the  dormitories,  and  enable  the 
committee  to  fulfil  the  purpose  that  it  had  in  view. 

In  the  large  square-paved  playground  forty  happy 
little  members  of  the  infant-school  were  marching  to 
the  slow  music  of  a  nursery  song ;  and  the  numbers  on 
the  books  were  196,  in  addition  to  304  girls  who  came 
daily  to  be  instructed  in  the-  great  school-room,  where 
they  were  taught  to  read,  and  write,  and  sew.  A  hun- 
dred and  twenty  boys  were  also  being  taught  in  the 
Ragged  Church  opposite,  while  seventy  children  over 
fifteen  years  of  age  attended  evening  classes,  forty -two 
young  men  and  women  were  in  the  Bible  class,  and  a 
penny  bank,  a  library  of  books,  and  a  benevolent  fund 
for  the  relief  of  poor  children  in  the  neighbourhood,  were 
branches  of  the  parent  institution. 

This,  however,  was  seven  years  ago,  and  since  that  time 
so  greatly  has  the  work  flourished,  that  the  Ragged  and 
Infant  Schools  have  premises  of  their  own  on  the  other 
side  of  the  way ;  and  the  great  building  having  been 
completed  by  the  addition  of  an  entire  wing,  its  original 
purpose  is  accomplished,  and  it  is  "  The  Girl's  Refuge," 
of  the  King  Edward  Certified  Industrial  and  Ragged 
Schools,  Albert  Street,  Spitalfields. 

It  is  to  the  receipt  of  munificent  anonymous  donations 
that  the  committee  owe  the  completion  of  the  building, 
and  in  order  to  extend  the  usefulness  of  their  Refuge 
they  have  certified  it  under  the  provisions  of  the  Indus- 
trial Schools  Act  of  1866.  That  this  was  in  accordance 
with  their  ruling  principle  of  making  the  most  of  every 
advantage  at  their  command  may  be  shown  by  the  fact 
that  when  the  School  Board,  almost  appalled  at  the  need 
for  making  immediate  use  of  any  existing  organisation, 
began  to  send  cases  to  existing  "  Homes,"  only  eight  of 


WITH  LOST  LAMBS.  131 

these  institutions  could  receive  the  children,  and  in  these 
eight  no  more  than  forty- four  vacancies  existed  for  Pro- 
testant girls.  The  consequence  of  opening  the  King 
Edward  Refuge  under  the  Act  was  that  it  received 
nearly  all  the  cases  of  the  year,  and  that  in  the  twelve 
months  it  was  certified  ninety  new  inmates  after  found 
an  asylum  within  its  walls. 

If  you  were  to  go  there  with  me  to-day,  you  would 
not  wonder  that  the  supporters  of  this  institution  were 
anxious  to  erect  another  building  in  some  part  of  Lon- 
don, where  another  hundred  lambs  straying  in  this  great 
wilderness  could  be  taken  to  the  fold.     Passing  through 
the  neat  dormitories,  with  their  rows  of  clean  white  beds  ; 
peeping  into  the  big  toy  cupboard,  where   the  kindly 
treasurer  has  recently  placed  a  whole  family  of  eighty 
dolls,  and  other  attractive  inventions  to  induce  children 
to  play,  some  of  whom  have  never  known  before  what 
play  really  meant ;  looking  at  the  lavatory  with  its  long 
rows  of  basins   let   into  slate  slabs,  and  each  with  its 
towel  and  clean  bag  for  brush  and  comb  ;  noting  the 
quiet  "  Infirmary,"  with  its  two  or  three  beds  so  seldom 
needed,  and  remarking  that  from  topmost  floor  to  the 
great   laundry  with   its  troughs   and   tubs,   a   constant 
supply   of    hot   water    provides  alike  for  warmth   and 
cleanliness,  I  begin  to  wonder  what    must  be  the  first 
sensations  of  a  poor  little  dazed  homeless  wanderer  on 
being  admitted,  washed,  fed,  and  neatly  clothed.     Why, 
the  two  kitchens — that  one  with  the  big  range,  where 
most  of  the  cooking  is  done,  and  the  other  cosy  farm- 
house-looking nook,  with  its  air  of  comfort — must  be  a 
revelation  to  all  the  senses  at  once.     Then  there  are  the 
highly-coloured  prints  on  the  walls,  the  singing  of  the 
grace  before  meat ;   the  regular  and  wholesome  food  ; 

9-2 


132  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:1 

the  discipline  (one  little  rebel  is  already  in  bed,  whither 
she  has  been  sent  for  misconduct,  and  an  elder  girl  de- 
murely brings  up  her  slice  of  bread  and  mug  of  milk 
and  water  on  a  plate) ;  the  provision  for  recreation  ;  the 
occasional  visits  of  parents  (many  of  them  unworthy  of 
the  name)  at  stated  seasons  ;  the  outings  to  the  park, 
the  Bethnal  Green  Museum,  and  other  places ;  the 
Christmas  treat ;  the  summer  presents  of  great  baskets 
of  fruit ;  the  rewards  and  prizes ;  the  daily  instruc- 
tion in  such  domestic  work  as  fits  them  for  becom- 
ing useful  household  servants.  What  a  wonderful 
change  must  all  these  things  present  to  the  children  of 
the  streets,  whose  short  lives  have  often  been  less  cared 
for  than  those  of  the  beasts  that  perish !  Everywhere 
there  are  marks  of  order,  from  the  neat  wire  baskets  at 
the  foot  of  each  bed  in  which  the  girls  place  their  folded 
clothes  before  retiring  to  rest,  to  the  wardrobe  closets 
and  the  great  trays  of  stale  bread  and  butter  just  ready 
for  tea.  Everywhere  there  are  evidences  of  care  and 
loving  kindness,  from  the  invalid  wheel-chair — the  gift 
of  the  treasurer  to  the  infirmary — to  the  splendid  quality 
of  the  "  long  kidney  "  potatoes  in  the  bucket,  where  they 
are  awaiting  the  arrival  of  to-morrow's  roast  mutton, 
three  days  being  meat  dinner  days,  while  one  is  a  bread 
and  cheese,  and  two  are  farinaceous  pudding  days. 

As  we  sit  here  and  sip  our  tea — for  I  am  invited  to 
tea  with  the  committee — and  are  waited  on  by  three 
neat  and  pretty  modest  little  women — one  of  them,  a 
girl  of  eight,  so  full  of  child-like  grace  and  simplicity, 
that  there  would  be  some  danger  of  her  being  spoiled 
if  she  were  not  quite  used  to  a  little  petting — who  can 
help  looking  at  the  inmates  now  assembling  quite  quietly 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  thinking  that  in  some 


WITH  LOST  LAMBS.  133 

of  those  faces  "  their  angels,"  long  invisible  because  of 
neglect  and  wrong,  are  once  more  looking  through,  calm, 
happy,  and  with  a  hope  that  maketh  not  ashamed.  Do 
you  see  that  still  rather  sullen-looking  girl  of  thirteen. 
She  came  here  an  incorrigible  young  thief — her  father, 
a  tanner's  labourer,  and  out  at  work  from  five  in  the 
morning — her  mother  bedridden — her  home  was  the 
streets — her  companions  a  gang  of  juvenile  thieves  such 
as  haunt  Bermondsey,  and  make  an  offshoot  of  the 
population  of  a  place  till  recently  called  "  Little  Hell." 

That  girl,  aged  ten,  was  sent  out  to  beg  and  to  sing 
songs,  and  was  an  adept  in  the  art  of  pretending  to 
have  lost  money.  There  is  the  daughter  of  a  crossing- 
sweeper,  who  cut  his  throat,  and  yonder  a  child  of  nine, 
driven  from  home,  and  charged  with  stealing,  as  her 
sister  also  is,  in  another  Refuge ;  and  close  by  are  two 
girls,  also  sisters,  who  were  found  fatherless  and  destitute, 
wandering  about  famishing  and  homeless,  except  for  a 
wretched  room,  with  nothing  in  it  but  two  heaps  of  foul 
straw.  I  need  not  multiply  cases  :  and  but  for  the  known 
power  of  love  and  true  human  interest,  in  which  the  very 
Divine  love  is  incarnated,  you  would  wonder  where  some 
of  these  children  obtained  their  quiet  docile  manner, 
their  fearless  but  modest  demeanour,  their  bright,  quiet, 
sweet  faces. 

One  case  only  let  me  mention,  and  we  will  go  quietly 
away,  to  think  of  what  may  be  done  in  such  a  place  by 
the  discipline  of  this  love  and  true  Christian  interest,  Do 
you  see  that  emaciated  little  creature — the  pale,  pinched 
shadow  of  a  child  sitting  at  a  table,  where  some  of  her 
companions  tend  her  very  gently  ?  She  is  the  daughter 
of  a  woman  who  is  an  incorrigible  beggar.  She  has  never 
known  a  home,  and  for  four  out  of  her  eight  years  of  life 


134  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS." 

has  been  dragged  about  the  street  an  infant  mendicant  ; 
has  slept  in  common  lodging-houses  ;  and  in  her  awful 
experience  could  have  told  of  thieves'  kitchens,  of  low 
taverns,  and  of  the  customs  of  those  vile  haunts  where 
she  had  learnt  the  language  of  obscenity  and  depravity. 
But  that  has  become  a  hideous,  almost  forgotten  dream, 
and  she  is  about  to  awaken  to  a  reality  in  a  world  to 
which  the  present  tenderness  with  which  she  is  cared 
for  is  but  the  lowest  threshold.  It  is  only  a  question  of 
a  month  or  two  perhaps.  One  more  bright  sunny  holi- 
day with  her  schoolmates  in  the  pleasant  garden  of  the 
treasurer,  at  Highgate — whither  they  all  go  for  a  whole 
happy  day  in  the  summer — and  she  will  be  in  the  very 
land  of  light  before  the  next  haytime  comes  round.  She 
wants  for  nothing — wine  and  fruit  and  delicate  fare  are 
sent  for  her  by  kind  sympathetic  hands  ;  but  she  is 
wearing  away,  not  with  pain,  but  with  the  exhaustion  of 
vital  power,  through  the  privations  of  the  streets.  From 
the  Refuge  she  will  go  home — a  lost  lamb  found,  and 
carried  to  the  eternal  fold. 

But  another  building  has  been  found  ;  a  large,  old- 
fashioned  mansion  in  St.  Andrew's  Road,  close  to  the 
Canal  Bridge  at  Cambridge  Heath,  and  there  the  more 
advanced  inmates  of  this  original  home  in  Spitalfields 
are  to  be  drafted  into  classes  whence  they  will  go  to  take 
a  worthy  part  in  the  work  of  the  world,  so  soon  as  the 
necessary  subscriptions  enable  the  committee  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  lambs  rescued  from  the  wolves  of 
famine  and  of  crime. 


WI1H  THE  SICK. 

ffe^^-/||HE  memory  of  the  pleasant  summer  holiday 
5raffrai  remains  with  many  of  us  when  we  have  come 
|j§BSil     back  again  to  the  duties  of  the  work-a-day 

world,  and  it  will  be  good  for  us  all  if  the 

gentle  thoughts  which  that  time  of  enjoyment  brought 
with  it  remain  in  our  hearts,  to  brighten  our  daily  lives 
by  the  influences  that  suggest  a  merciful  and  forbearing 
temper. 

It  is  perhaps  remarkable  that  few  of  the  charitable  insti- 
tutions at  places  to  which  holiday-makers  resort  are  to  any 
commensurate  extent  benefited  by  the  contributions  of 
those  visitors  who,  while  they  are  engaged  in  pursuing 
their  own  pleasures,  seldom  give  themselves  time  to  think 
that  as  they  have  freely  received  so  they  should  freely 
give.  Considering  that  while  we  are  engaged  in  the 
absorbing  business  of  money-making,  or  in  the  exacting 
engagements  of  our  daily  calling,  we  can  afford  little 
time  for  the  investigation  of  those  claims  which  are  made 
upon  us  to  help  the  poor  and  the  needy,  it  might  not  al- 
together detract  from  the  higher  enjoyment  of  a  period 
of  leisure  if  we  devoted  a  few  spare  hours  to  inquiring 
what  is  being  effected  for  the  relief  of  suffering  in  any 
place  wherein  we  take  up  our  temporary  abode. 

With  some  such  reflection  as  this  I  stand  to-day  on 


136  "ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:' 

the  spot  which  to  ordinary  Londoners  is  most  thoroughly 
representative  of  the  summer  "outing,"  without  which 
no  true  Cockney  can  feel  that  he  is  content — a  spot,  too, 
which  has  become,  for  a  large  number  of  English  men 
and  women,  and  notably  for  a  whole  host  of  English 
children,  the  synonym  for  renewed  health  and  strength 
— the  head  of  Margate  jetty. 

It  is  a  strange  contrast,  this  moving  crowd  of  people, 
with  their  bright  dresses  and  gay  ribbons  fluttering  in 
the  breeze ;  the  smiling  faces  of  girls  and  women  amidst 
a  toss  and  tangle  of  sea-blown  tresses  ;  the  green  sparkle 
of  the  sea  beneath  the  shining  sky  ;  the  voices  of  sailors, 
the  shrill  laughter  of  boys  and  girls  coming  from  the 
sands  below ;  the  gleam  of  white  sails  ;  the  flitting  wings 
of  fisher-birds  ;  the  gay  tumult  of  the  High  Street ; 
the  traffic  of  hucksters  of  shells  and  toys — a  strange 
contrast  to  the  scene  which  may  be  witnessed  in  and 
around  that  large  building  which  we  passed  only  yester- 
day as  the  Margate  boat  stood  off  from  Birchington,  and 
passengers  began  to  collect  coats  and  bags  and  umbrellas 
as  they  saw  friends  awaiting  them  on  the  landing-stage 
of  this  very  jetty. 

It  seems  a  week  ago;  and  just  as  these  few  hours 
seem  to  have  separated  us  far  from  yesterday's  work,  and 
the  routine  of  daily  life,  does  the  short  distance  along  the 
High  Street  and  past  the  railway  station  seem  to  sepa- 
rate us  by  an  indefinite  distance  from  the  sickness  and 
pain  that  is  yet  in  reality  so  near.  Even  as  we  think  of 
it  in  this  way,  the  division  is  less  marked,  the  contrast 
not  so  strange,  for  in  that  building  Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity  find  expression,  and  bring  a  cheerful  radiance  to 
those  who  need  the  care  of  skilful  hands  and  the  sym- 
pathy of  loving  hearts. 


WITH  THE  SICK.  137 

The  name  of  the  place  is  known  all  over  England,  for 
within  its  walls  are  assembled  patients  who  are  brought 
from  the  great  towns  of  different  shires,  as  well  as  from 
mighty  London  itself,  that  they  may  be  healed  of  that 
dread  malady,  the  most  potent  cure  for  which  is  to  take 
them  from  the  close  and  impure  atmosphere  of  their 
crowded  homes,  and  exchange  the  stifled  breath  of 
courts  and  alleys  for  the  boundless  aether  of  the  sea. 

For  the  building,  to  visit  which  I  am  here  to-day,  is 
the  "  Royal  Sea-Bathing  Infirmary,  or  National  Hospital 
for  the  Scrofulous  Poor,  near  Margate,"  and  there  are  at 
this  moment  220  men,  women,  and  children  within  its 
sheltering  wards.  Stay  —  let  me  be  accurate.  I  said 
within  its  wards  ;  but  here,  as  I  pass  the  gates  and  the 
unpretentious  house  of  the  resident  surgeon  to  the  broad 
sea  front  of  the  building,  I  note  that  under  the  protecting 
screen  of  the  wall  that  bounds  the  wide  space  of  grass- 
plot  and  gravel-paths  a  row  of  beds  are  placed,  and  in 
each  of  them  a  patient  lies  basking  in  the  warm  sunlit 
air  ;  while  a  little  band  of  convalescents  saunter  gently, 
some  of  them  with  the  aid  of  crutch  or  stick,  with  the 
enjoyment  of  a  sense  of  returning  strength.  If  I  mistake 
not,  there  are  two  or  three  "  Bath  chairs  "  crunching  the 
gravel  paths  a  little  further  on,  and  down  below  upon 
the  space  marked  out  and  separated  from  the  outer 
world  upon  the  beach,  the  two  bathing-machines  of  the 
establishment  are  occupied  by  those  for  whom  convales- 
cence is  growing  into  health* 

The  full  meaning  of  such  a  change  can  only  be 
realised  by  those  who  know  how  terrible  a  disease 
scrofula  becomes,  not  only  in  the  deadly  insidious  form 
of  consumption,  but  in  the  various  deformities  and  dis- 

*  This  was  written  in  the  latter  part  of  July,  1874. 


138  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS? 

tortions  of  the  limbs  of  which  it  is  the  cause ;  and  in 
those  cases  where,  to  the  pain  and  depression  of  the  dis- 
order itself  is  added  some  terrible  affection  of  the  skin, 
which  the  sensitive  patient  knows  can  scarcely  fail  to  be 
repulsive  to  those  who  witness  it,  unless,  indeed  they 
have  learnt  to  regard  it  only  as  a  reason  for  deeper  com- 
passion and  for  more  earnest  consolation. 

Almost  every  form  of.  the  disorder  is  to  be  seen  out 
here  in  the  wide  northern  area  of  this  inclusive  building, 
which  has  long  ago  been  bought  and  paid  for,  along  with 
the  three  acres  of  freehold  ground  on  which  it  stands. 

Of  the  deep  sympathy  with  which  it  has  been  sup- 
ported by  those  who  early  learned  to  take  an  interest  in 
its  beneficent  work,  the  fountain  which  has  been  erected 
in  the  centre  of  the  green  to  the  memory  of  the  late  Rev. 
John  Hodgson,  one  of  its  trustees,  is  a  mute  witness.  Mr. 
Hodgson  laboured  earnestly  to  secure  those  casual  inte- 
rests which  might  be  obtained  from  the  vast  number  of 
persons  who  visit  Margate  every  year.  In  order  to  make 
the  most  of  small  regular  contributions,  he  appealed  for 
"five  shillings  a  year,"  and  since  his  death  in  1870  this 
fund  has  increased,  so  that  in  one  year  nearly  6,000  sub- 
scribers had  contributed  £1,405  Js.  ^d.  Never  was  holi- 
day charity  more  appropriately  applied,  as  anybody  who 
will  visit  the  institution  itself  may  witness  in  those  long 
wards  beyond  the  open  passage,  to  which  the  card  of  Dr. 
Rowe,  one  of  the  three  visiting  surgeons,  has  directed 
me. 

Since  the  first  establishment  of  the  institution,  seventy- 
seven  years  ago,  when  sixteen  cases  were  treated  as  a 
beginning,  above  29,000  patients,  from  London  and  all 
parts  of  the  country,  have  received  relief;  and  to-day 
the  number  in  the  institution  (taking  no  account  of  a  con- 


WITH  THE  SICK.  139 

tingent  of  "  out-patients")  includes  42  men,  50  women, 
and  120  children,  none  of  whom  are  local  cases,  but  all 
from  other  parts  of  England,  whence  they  come  fre- 
quently from  a  long  distance. 

In  each  of  the  six  wards,  of  which  four  are  on  the 
ground  floor,  there  is  a  head-nurse  and  an  assistant,  with 
six  helpers  for  the  children's,  and  four  for  the  adult  de- 
partment, beside  the  night  nurses,  who  sit  up  in  case  of 
any  emergency.  There  is  accommodation  for  250  suf- 
ferers and  for  the  40  nurses,  attendants,  and  domestics 
required  for  the  service  of  the  hospital;  so  the  220  patients 
there  now,  represent  the  approaching  period  when  a  new 
wing  will  have  to  be  added,  even  if  only  the  urgent  cases 
are  to  be  admitted. 

The  year's  list  of  occupants  of  the  250  beds  shows  a 
total  of  721  patients,  of  whom  614  had  been  discharged 
in  January,  399  being  either  cured  or  very  greatly  bene- 
fited, 171  decidedly  benefited,  and  only  44  obviously 
uncured;  a  very  large  amount  of  actual  gain  to. humanity, 
when  we  reflect  on  the  conditions  of  the  disease  to 
remedy  which  the  institution  is  devoted. 

If  out  of  721  cases  399  are  either  cured  or  have 
received  such  marked  benefit  as  to  render  their  ultimate 
cure  highly  probable,  it  is  an  achievement  worthy  of  the 
earnest  work  of  which  it  is  the  result,  a  contribution  to 
beneficent  efforts  well  worth  the  £y,g66  which  has  neces- 
sarily been  expended  in  the  provision,  not  only  of  the 
appliances  which  give  comfort  and  rest,  but  of  the  gener- 
ous food  and  drink  which,  with  the  glorious  air  from  the 
sea,  is  the  medicine  necessary  to  build  up  the  feeble 
frames  and  renew  the  impoverished  blood  of  those  to 
whom  meal-times  come  to  be  welcome  events  in  the  day, 
instead  of  merely  languid  observances. 


140  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS." 

Down  in  the  kitchen,  with  its  great  cooking  range  and 
its  capacious  boilers,  there  are  evidences  of  that  "  full 
diet "  which  is  characteristic  of  the  place  ;  and  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  decide  which  are  the  most  suggestive,  the  long 
row  of  covered  japanned  jugs  which  hang  conveniently  to 
the  dresser-shelf,  and  are  used  for  the  conveyance  of 
"  gravy,"  or  the  mighty  milk-cans  standing  in  a  corner, 
ready  to  be  taken  away  when  the  evening  supply  comes 
in  from  the  Kentish  dairies.  Half  a  pound  of  cooked 
meat  for  dinner  is  the  daily  allowance  for  each  man  and 
for  every  boy  over  fourteen  years  of  age,  while  women 
and  girls  receive  six  ounces,  and  children  four  ounces. 
Breakfast  consists  of  coffee  and  bread-and-butter,  varied 
in  the  afternoon  by  tea,  and  supper  of  bread  and  cheese 
for  adults,  and  bread  and  butter  for  children.  Roast 
and  boiled  meat  is  served  on  alternate  days,  with  accom- 
panying vegetables,  and  there  are  three  "  pudding  days  " 
for  those  who  can  manage  this  addition  to  the  fare ; 
while  every  man  and  woman  may  have  a  pint  of  porter, 
and  each  child  a  pint  of  table  ale,  at  the  discretion  of  the 
doctors.  This,  of  course,  represents  the  ordinary  diet, 
in  which  specific  differences  are  made  for  special  cases 
where  other  or  daintier  food  is  required.  Perhaps  I 
should  have  said  that  this  is  the  scale  adopted  in  the  re- 
fectory, a  large  airy  room,  to  the  long  table  in  which  the 
patients  who  are  able  to  *'  get  about "  are  now  advancing 
with  a  cheerful  premonition  of  dinner.  There  is  no  space 
to  spare,  and  there  are  at  present  no  funds  to  spend  in 
additional  building,  so  that  this  great  airy  refectory  is 
used  as  chapel  and  assembly  room.  The  Bread  of  Life, 
as  well  as  the  temporal  bread,  is  distributed  here  ;  and 
those  who  would  object  to  the  necessity  may  either  con- 
tribute to  build  another  room,  or  may  come  and  learn 


WITH  THE  SICK.  141 

how  every  meal  in  ^such  a  place,  and  for  such  a  cause  as 
this,  should  become  a  sacrament.  Many  varieties  of  the 
forms  taken  by  scrofulous  disease  may  be  seen  here  ; 
and  yet  the  hopeful  looks,  the  cheerful  influence  of  the 
bright  summer  weather,  the  green  glimpses  of  the  sea 
through  doors  and  windows,  and  the  fresh  bracing  air, 
impart  to  these  sufferers  an  expressive  lively  briskness, 
which  somehow  removes  the  more  painful  impressions 
with  which  we  might  expect  to  witness  such  an  assembly. 
It  is  so  perhaps  in  a  still  greater  measure  in  these 
large  airy  wards,  where  children  sit  or  lie  upon  the  beds, 
some  of  them  wholly  or  partially  dressed,  where  the 
disease  has  produced  only  deformities'^  under  surgical 
treatment,  or  such  forms  of  skin  disease  as  affect  the  face. 
Of  the  latter  there  are  some  very  severe  and  obstinate 
cases,  and  from  these  the  unaccustomed  visitor  can 
scarcely  help  turning  away,  but  often  only  to  return,  and 
mark  how  cheerfully  and  with  what  a  vivid  alacrity  the 
little  patients  move  and  play,  and  look  with  eager  interest 
on  all  that  is  going  on.  For  here — in  the  boys'  ward — 
there  is  no  repression  of  youthful  spirits,  so  that  they  be 
kept  within  the  bounds  of  moderate  decorum,  nor  do  the 
patients  themselves  seem  to  feel  that  they  are  objects  of 
melancholy  commiseration.  To  speak  plainly,  even  the 
worst  cases  are  not  reminded  that  there  are  people  who 
may  be  revolted  at  their  affliction.  Indeed  I,  who  am 
tolerably  accustomed  to  many  experiences  that  might  be 
strange  to  others,  am  rather  taken  aback  by  one  little 
"  case,"  whose  face  and  limbs,  though  apparently  healed, 
have  been  so  deeply  seamed  and  grooved  by  the  disorder, 
which  must  have  claimed  him  from  babyhood,  that  he 
has  evidently  learned  to  regard  himself  as  an  important 
surgical  specimen,  and,  on  my  approach  to  his  bed,  begins 


142  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

with  deliberate  satisfaction  to  divest  himself  of  his  stock- 
ings, in  order  to  exhibit  his  legs.  Hip  and  spinal 
disease  are  among  the  most  frequent  and  often  the  most 
fatal  forms  of  scrofula.  One  boy,  with  delicate  and  regu- 
lar features,  his  fragile  hand  only  just  able  to  clasp  in 
the  fingers  the  small  present  I  am  permitted  to  offer  him, 
shows  the  shadow  of  death  upon  his  face.  In  his  case 
the  disorder  has  shown  itself  to  be  beyond  medical,  as  it 
has  already  been  beyond  surgical  aid,  and  his  short 
hurried  breathing  denotes  that  before  the  summer  days 
have  been  shortened  by  the  autumn  nights,  and  the 
leaves  are  lying  brown  and  sere,  he  will  be  in  a  better 
and  a  surer  home,  and  healed  for  evermore. 

It  will  be  a  peaceful  end,  no  doubt,  and  he  will  yet 
have  strength  enough  to  be  taken  home  to  die,  where 
other  than  strangers'  hands  will  minister  to  him  at  the 
last,  but  not  more  tenderly,  it  may  be,  than  those  that 
smooth  his  pillow  to-day. 

As  we  leave  the  boys'  wards — clean,  and  bright,  and 
fresh  as  they  are — we  encounter  a  cosy  little  party  of 
juvenile  convalescents,  who  are  comfortably  seated  on 
the  door-mat,  engaged  in  a  stupendous  game  of  draughts. 
There  is  more  of  beauty  than  deformity,  more  of  life 
than  of  death,  more  perhaps  of  living  eager  interest  than 
of  sadness  and  sorrow  to  be  seen  here,  after  all ;  and  this 
is  particularly  remarkable  in  the  large-windowed  spacious 
ward  where  the  girls  can  look  fairly  out  upon  the  gleam- 
ing sea.  Properly  enough,  the  room  occupied  by  these 
young  ladies  has  been  made  more  ornamental  than  that 
of  the  boys.  The  walls  are  gay  with  coloured  prints, 
and  there  are  flowers,  and  a  remarkably  cheerful  three- 
sided  stove,  which  gives  the  place  an  air  of  comfort, 
though,  of  course,  it  has  now  no  fire  in  it.    Then  some  of 


WITH  THE  SICK.  143 

the  girls  (with  those  thoughtful  delicate  faces  and  large 
wistful  inquiring  eyes  which  are  so  often  to  be  observed 
among  lame  people)  are  engaged  in  fancy  needlework  as 
they  lie  dressed  upon  the  beds  to  which  they  are  at  pre- 
sent mostly  confined,  because  of  deformities  of  the  feet 
or  legs  requiring  surgical  treatment.  There  is  a  library 
(which  needs  replenishing),  from  which  patients  are 
allowed  to  take  books ;  and  those  children  who  are  able 
to  leave  the  wards,  and  are  not  suffering  from  illness,  are 
taught  daily  by  a  schoolmaster  and  a  schoolmistress, 
while  a  visiting  chaplain  is  of  course  attached  to  the 
hospital. 


BLESSING  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN. 


CANNOT  yet  leave  that  sea-coast  where  so 
great  a  multitude  go  to  find  rest  and  healing- 
The  Divine  Narrative  may  well  appeal  to  us 
in  relation  to  such  a  locality,  for  it  was  by 
the  sea-shore  that  the  Gospel  came  to  those  who  went 
out  to  seek  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ;  it  was  there  that  the  poor 
people  heard  Him  gladly  ;  there  that  the  sick  who  were 
brought  to  Him  were  made  whole :  there  that  He  fed 
the  great  company  who  lacked  bread. 

All  the  deeds  of  humanity  were  recognised  by  Him 
who  called  himself  the  "  Son  of  Man."  The  blessing  of 
little  children  is  one  of  those  needs  of  true  human  life 
which  the  Lord  recognised  gladly.  He  recognises  it 
still ;  and  His  solemn  mingling  of  warning  and  of  pro- 
mise with  regard  to  its  observance,  has  an  intensity  that 
may  well  appeal  to  us  all,  now  that,  after  eighteen  cen- 
turies of  comparative  neglect  and  indifference,  we  are 
discerning  that  the  only  hope  of  social  redemption  is  to 
be  found  in  that  care  for  children  which  shall  forbid  their 
being  left  either  morally  or  physically  destitute. 

There  is  a  house,  standing  high  above  the  sea,  in  that 
great  breezy  suburb  of  Margate,  known  as  Cliftonville — 
to  which  I  want  you   to  pay  a  visit  when  the  bright, 


• 


BLESSING  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN.  145 

cheerful,  airy  wards,  the  light,  spacious  dining-room,  and 
comfortable,  home-like  enlivening  influences  of  the  place 
will  entitle  it  to  be  regarded  as  the  fitting  consumma- 
tion of  two  other  admirable  institutions  for  the  nurture 
and  maintenance  of  orphan  and  fatherless  children. 

The  modest  little  building  referred  to  is  named  "  The 
Convalescent  and  Sea-side  Home  for  Orphans,"  Harold 
Road,  Margate.  The  parent  institutions  are  "The 
Orphan  Working  School,"  at  Haverstock  Hill,  and  that 
most  attractive  series  of  pretty  cottages  on  the  brow  of 
the  hill  at  Hornsey  Rise,  which  have  been  more  than 
once  spoken  of  as  "  Lilliput  Village,"  but  the  style  and 
title  of  which  is  "The  Alexandra  Orphanage  for 
Infants  " — a  name,  the  distinguishing  feature  of  which  is 
that  it  is  immediately  associated  with  its  first  patroness, 
the  Princess  of  Wales. 

Of  the  Home  at  Margate  I  need  not  now  speak 
particularly,  except  to  note  that  it  is  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  little  convalescents,  who — suffering,  as  many 
of  them  do,  from  constitutional  and  hereditary  weakness, 
which  is  yet  not  actual  sickness,  and  recovering,  as  many 
of  them  are,  from  the  feeble  condition  which  has  been  to 
some  extent  remedied  by  the  careful  nurture,  good  food, 
and  healthy  regimen,  of  the  large  institutions  near  Lon- 
don— are  not  fit  patients  either  for  their  own  or  any  other 
infirmary  wards,  and  yet  require  to  be  restored  to 
greater  strength  before  they  can  join  the  main  body  of 
their  young  companions  in  the  school  or  the  playground. 
Enough  that  it  is  picturesque  and  substantially  pretty, 
as  becomes  a  place  which  is  to  become  the  home  of  thirty 
children,  taken  from  among  nearly  six  hundred,  the 
parents  of  nearly  half  of  whom  have  died  of  consumption, 
and  so  left  to  their  offspring  that  tendency  to  a  feeble 

10 


146  "ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS:1 

constitution  which  can  be  best  remedied  by  the  grand 
medicine  of  sea-air,  wholesome  nutritious  food,  and  a 
judicious  alternation  of  healthful  exercise  and  rest. 

It  is  to  Mr  Joseph  Soul — the  late  indefatigable  secretary 
of  the  Working  School,  with  which  he  has  been  connected' 
for  nearly  forty  years,  and  the  honorary  secretary  of  the 
Alexandra  Orphanage,  of  which  he  may  be  regarded  as 
the  virtual  founder — that  the  proposal  to  establish  this 
Convalescent  Home  was  due,  and  its  affairs  are  adminis- 
tered at  the  office  of  the  two  charities,  at  63,  Cheapside. 

But  it  is  necessary  to  tell  as  briefly  as  possible  the  story 
of  the  oldest  of  the  two  institutions  of  which  this  building 
is  to  be  an  accessory — not  only  the  oldest  of  these  two,  but 
probably  the  oldest  voluntarily  supported  orphan  asylum 
in  London,  since  it  dates  from  116  years  ago,  when 
George  II.  was  King,  when  Louis  XV.  was  scandalising 
Europe  and  preparing  the  Revolution,  when  Wesleyan 
Methodism  was  commencing  a  vast  religious  revival, 
when  Doctor  Johnson  had  but  just  finished  writing  his 
dictionary,  and  when  William  Hogarth  was  painting 
those  wonderful  pictures  which  are  still  the  most  instruc- 
tive records  of  society  and  fashion  as  seen  in  the  year 
1758. 

It  was  in  that  year,  on  the  10th  of  May,  that  fourteen 
periwigged  and  powdered  gentlemen  met  at  the  George 
Inn,  in  Ironmonger  Lane,  in  order  to  discuss  how  they 
might  best  found  an  asylum  for  forty  orphan  children — 
that  is  to  say,  for  twenty  boys  and  twenty  girls. 

They  soon  came  to  a  solemn  decision  that  there  was  a 
u  sufficient  subscription  for  carrying  the  scheme  into  exe- 
cution," and  a  record  to  that  effect  was  soberly  entered 
in  the  very  first  clean  page  of  the  first  minute-book  of  the 
Charity,  with  the  additional  memoranda  that  a  committee 


BLESSING  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN.  147 

was  chosen,  and  a  treasurer  appointed  to  collect  and  take 
care  of  the  money  necessary  to  support  the  undertaking. 

The  early  minute-books  of  this  charity,  by  the  way, 
are  models  of  serious  penmanship.  Grave  achievements 
of  caligraphy,  with  engrossed  headings,  elaborate 
flourishes,  and  stiff  formal  hedge-rows  •  of  legal  verbiage, 
suggestive  of  the  fact  that  the  secretaries  were  either 
attorneys  or  scriveners,  and  regarded  the  entries  in  a 
minute-book  or  the  opening  of  a  new  account  as  very 
weighty  and  important  events  not  to  be  lightly  passed 
over.  In  this  they  were  probably  right :  and,  at  all 
events,  just  so  much  of  the  old  methodical  exactitude 
has  come  down  to  the  present  day  in  the  history  of  the 
institution,  that  the  published  accounts  of  the  Orphan 
Working  School  have  been  referred  to  by  the  Times 
as  models  of  condensation  with  a  clearness  of  detail, 
which  may  be  regarded  as  the  best  indication  of  a  well- 
ordered  and  economical  administration. 

It  might  not  be  too  much  to  say  that  the  old  principle 
of  carrying  a  scheme  into  execution  only  when  there 
are  sufficient  subscriptions  still  characterises  the  opera- 
tions of  the  institution.  At  all  events,  Mr.  Soul  had 
secured  enough  money  for  the  completion  of  the  new 
building  at  Margate  before  the  actual  work  commenced, 
and  his  experience  told  him  that  funds  would  be  forth- 
coming to  maintain  it. 

The  founders  of  the  original  Orphan  Working  School, 
however,  laid  their  wigs  together  to  obtain  a  house  ready 
built,  and  at  last  found  one  adapted  to  the  purpose,  in 
what  was  then  the  suburban  district  known  as  Hogsden 
— since  gentilised  into  Hoxton.  Like  all  really  good 
work,  the  enterprise  began  to  grow — there  were  so  many 
orphans,  and  this  was  still  the  only  general  asylum  main- 

10—2 


148  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:7 

tained  by  subscriptions — so  that,  as  funds  came  in,  two 
other  adjoining  houses  were  rented,  and  in  seventeen 
years  the  number  of  inmates  had  increased  from  forty  to 
165. 

Reading  the  formal  and  yet  most  interesting  re- 
cords of  this  parent  institution  for  the  care  of  the 
orphan  and  the  fatherless,  I  fall  into  a  kind  of  wonder  at 
the  enormous  change  in  the  method  of  "  nurture  and  ad- 
monition," of  teaching  and  training,  which  has  taken 
place  in  the  past  eighty  years.  Even  in  this  house  at 
Hoxton,  whereof  the  founders  appear  to  have  been  kindly 
old  gentlemen,  the  discipline  was  enormously  suggestive 
of  that  stern  restriction  and  unsympathetic  treatment 
which  was  thought  necessary  for  the  due  correction  of 
the  "  Old  Adam  "  in  the  young  heart.  We  know  how 
great  an  outcry  has  quite  lately  been  made  at  the  dis- 
covery of  the  remains  of  that  mode  of  chastisement 
which  seems  to  have  been  abandoned  almost  everywhere, 
except  by  a  special  revival  in  gaols,  and  at  two  or  three 
of  the  public  schools  to  which  the  sons  of  gentlemen  are 
consigned  for  their  education. 

The  discipline  at  the  Orphanage  at  Hogsden  was  cold 
and  repellent  enough,  perhaps — had  very  little  about  it 
to  encourage  the  affections,  or  to  appeal  to  the  loving 
confidence  of  a  child — but  it  was  less  barbarous  than  the 
code  which  at  that  time  found  its  maxim  in  the  saying, 
"  Spare  the  rod,  spoil  the  child."  Only  very  flagrant 
disobedience,  persistent  lying  and  swearing,  were  punished 
with  public  whipping.  But  even  in  the  case  of  ordinary 
falsehood,  a  child  was  placed  with  his  face  to  the  wall  at 
meal-time,  with  a  paper  pinned  to  his  back  with  the  word 
"  Lyar  "  written  on  it,  till  he  was  sufficiently  penitent  to 
say,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  rest  of  the  children,  "  I 


BLESSING  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN.  149 

have  sinned  in  telling  a  lie.  I  will  take  more  care.  I 
hope  God  will  forgive  me." 

The  name,  "  Working  School,"  was  then  interpreted  so 
strictly,  that  there  was  comparatively  little  margin  for 
education.  Arithmetic  appears  to  have  been  regarded 
with  peculiar  jealousy  by  the  founders  of  this  institution, 
who,  being  perhaps  bankers,  accountants,  and  capitalists, 
looked  upon  such  instruction  as  calculated  to  give  the 
poor  little  boys  and  girls  notions  beyond  their  station. 

For  ten  years  the  teaching  of  figures  was  altogether 
ignored  ;  and  it  was  only  when  some  of  the  children, 
having  heard  that  there  was  a  science  called  "  summing!" 
known  to  the  outer  world,  begged  to  be  taught,  that  a 
solemn  meeting  of  the  Governors  was  called  to  consider 
the  question,  when  it  was  conceded,  after  great  delibera- 
tion, and  no  little  opposition  from  the  anti-educational 
part  of  the  Committee,  that  arithmetic  should  be  per- 
mitted to  be  taught,  as  far  as  addition. 

Thus,  to  their  few  and  rigidly  ordered  recreations, 
their  hours  of  manual  labour  in  making  nets,  list-carpets, 
slippers,  and  other  cheap  commodities,  to  their  instruction 
in  plain  reading,  and  to  their  times  for  partaking  of  plain 
and  even  coarse  food,  served  in  not  too  tempting  a  way, 
was  added  the  art  of  writing,  and  of  the  first  two  rules  of 
arithmetic. 

This  was  the  condition  of  the  orphans  in  1775  ;  but  still 
the  charity  grew — grew  out  of  house-room  ;  and  as  the 
funds  grew  also,  it  was  determined  that  it  should  have  a 
building  of  its  own,  on  a  plot  of  ground  in  the  City  Road, 
where,  improvements  having  set  in,  the  grand  old  charity 
moved  with  the  march  of  modern  improvement.  Life 
became  less  hard,  and  instruction  more  extended.  The 
influences  of  modern  thought  and  education  had  super- 


1 50  "ABO UT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS." 

seded  the  old  severity,  and  new  Governors  succeeded 
the  bewigged  and  powdered  founders,  who  had,  after  all, 
so  well  ordered  their  work,  that  it  increased  with  the 
growth  of  intelligence. 

During  the  seventy-two  years  from  1775  to  1847,  the 
institution  had  received  1,124  orphans;  and  again  the 
dimensions  of  the  house  were  unequal  to  the  demands  of 
the  inmates  ;  while  the  house  itself,  and  the  ground  on 
which  it  stood,  had  become  so  valuable,  that  it  was  deter- 
mined to  buy  a  plot  of  land  at  Haverstock  Hill,  and 
there  to  found  a  truly  representative  Home  for  240  orphan 
boys  and  girls — a  number  which  has  now  increased  (as 
the  building  itself  has  been  extended)  till  400  orphans  are 
taught,  fed,  and  clothed  in  one  of  the  most  truly  repre- 
sentative charities  in  all  great  London. 

The  obvious  distress  and  suffering  of  those  who  are 
destitute,  and  whose  claims  are  constantly  before  us,  may 
lead  us  to  forget  the  frequent  needs  of  a  large  number  of 
people  who  represent  uncomplaining  poverty.  There  is 
a  tendency  to  identify  general  appeals  to  benevolence 
with  efforts  for  the  relief  of  that  extreme  necessity  which 
demands  immediate  and  almost  undiscriminating  aid, 
and  requires  the  prompt  distribution  of  alms  or  the  pro- 
vision of  a  meal,  warmth,  and  shelter.  Doubtless,  the 
actually  homeless  and  destitute  claim  our  first  attention 
— especially  in  thecase  of  deserted  and  neglected  children 
— and  I  have  tried  to  show  what  is  being  done  for  those 
little  ones,  whose  presence  in  the  streets  of  this  great 
wilderness  of  brick  and  stone  should  of  itself  be  an  appeal 
strong  enough  to  move  the  heart  of  humanity  in  their 
behalf. 

There  is,  however,  another  class  of  poverty,  which 
makes  no  sign,  and  bears  distress  dumbly.     There  is  a 


BLESSING  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN.  151 

need,  which,  without  being  that  of  actual  destitution, 
requires  a  constant  struggle  to  prevent  its  representing 
the  want  of  nearly  all  the  luxuries,  and  some  of  those 
things  which  most  of  us  regard  as  the  necessaries  of 
life. 

We  find  this  among  that  large  section  of  the  middle 
class  represented  by  persons  holding  inferior  clerkships, 
small  official  appointments,  and  situations  where  the 
salaries  are  only  sufficient  to  yield  a  bare  subsistence, 
and  there  is  little  or  no  probability  of  their  improvement, 
because,  among  the  number  of  candidates  who  are  eager 
to  fill  such  positions,  there  exists  a  degree  of  distress  not 
easily  estimated,  even  by  the  appearance  of  those  who 
•are  the  sufferers.  Of  course,  relief  cannot  reach  such 
people  through  the  poor-law,  or  by  any  direct  legislation. 
They  are  far  above  the  reach  of  almsgiving,  or  even  of 
societies  for  distributing  bread  and  coals.  They  have  a 
just  pride  in  maintaining  a  position  of  independence;  and 
though  they  may  sometimes  look  with  a  feeling  too  near 
to  envy  at  the  more  prosperous  mechanic  or  the  skilled 
artisan,  who  can  earn  "  good  wages,"  dress  in  fustian 
or  corduroy,  send  his  children  to  the  Board  School,  and 
regulate  working  hours  and  weekly  pay  by  the  rules  of  a 
Trade  Union,  they  mostly  keep  bravely  on,  hoping  that 
as  the  children  grow  up,  they  may  get  the  boys  "  into 
something,"  and  find  some  friend  to  help  them  to  place 
the  girls  in  situations  where  they  may  partly  earn  their 
own  living. 

With  rent  and  taxes  often  absorbing  a  fourth  part  of 
his  entire  income,  with  market  cliques  combining  against 
him  to  keep  up  the  prices  of  food,  with  dear  bread,  dear 
potatoes,  boots  and  shoes  always  wearing  out,  and  re- 
spectability demanding  cloth  clothes,  even  though  they 


1 52  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS:' 

be  made  of  "  shoddy,"  how  is  the  clerk,  the  employe,  the 
small  tradesman,  the  struggling  professional  man,  to  follow 
the  prudent  counsel  which  wealthier  people  are  always- 
ready  to  bestow  upon  him — and  "  lay  by  for  a  rainy  day  ?"" 
Rainy  day  !  why  his  social  climate  may  be  said  to  re- 
present a  continual  downpour,  so  far  as  the  necessity  for 
pecuniary  provision.  He  lives  (so  to  speak)  with  an 
umbrella  always  up,  and  it  is  only  a  poor  shift  of  a 
gingham  after  all.  The  half-crown  which  is  in  his  pocket 
to-night  is  already  bespoken  for  to-morrow's  dinner.  As 
he  listens  to  the  account  of  the  week's  marketing,  and 
knows  that  his  wife  and  children  have  been  living  for 
three  days  out  of  seven  upon  little  better  than  bread  and 
dripping,  he  feels  like  an  ogre  as  he  thinks  of  the  seven- 
penny  plate  of  meat  that  he  consumed  at  one  o'clock, 
because  it  was  only  "  a  makeshift "  at  home. 

How  is  he  to  pay  even  the  smallest  premium  to  insure 
his  life,  when  he  is  obliged  to  meet  ordinary  emergencies 
by  a  visit  to  the  pawnbroker  after  dark  ? 

Insure  his  life !  Ah,  the  time  may  come  when  the  hand 
of  the  bread-winner  is  still,  when  the  little  money  left  in 
the  house  is  scarcely  sufficient  to  pay  for  the  "  respectable 
funeral "  which  is  the  last  effort  of  genteel  poverty,  when 
the  red-eyed  widow  gathers  her  fatherless  children  about 
her,  and  wonders  amidst  her  stupor  of  grief  what  is  to* 
become  of  the  younger  ones  who  yet  so  need  her  care 
that  she  will  not  be  able  to  go  forth  to  seek  the  means- 
of  living.  To  what  evil  influences  may  they  be  exposed 
while  she  is  absent  striving  to  earn  their  daily  food  ? — 
the  temptations  of  the  streets  for  the  boys  :  the  certainty 
that  the  elder  girls  must  either  starve  at  home  to  mind! 
the  little  ones,  or  must  become  drudges  before  they  have 
learnt  more  than  the  mere  rudiments  of  what  they  should! 


BLESSING  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN.  153 

be  taught.  It  is  then  she  feels  that  dread  of  degradation, 
which  is  amongst  the  sharpest  pangs  of  the  poverty  which 
would  fain  hide  itself  from  the  world. 

It  may  be  that  the  children  are  left  a  parentless  little 
flock,  huddling  together  in  the  first  dread  and  sorrow  of 
the  presence  of  death,  and  the  sense  of  utter  bereavement, 
and  awaiting  the  intervention  of  those  who  are  sent  by 
the  Father  of  the  fatherless.  Then,  indeed,  prompt  and 
certain  help  is  needed — help  efficient  and  permanent — 
and  such  aid  can  seldom  be  secured  except  by  organised 
institutions. 

But  let  us  see  to  what  that  Orphan  Working  School, 
established  in  1758,  has  developed  in  1874.  We  have 
but  to  take  a  short  journey  to  the  foot  of  Haverstock 
Hill,  and  there,  in  that  pleasant  locality  named  Maitland 
Park,  part  of  which  is  the  property  of  the  Institution,  we 
shall  see  the  successor  of  the  old  house  in  Hogsden  Fields, 
while  its  plain  but  large  and  lofty  committee  room  is  the 
modern  representative  of  the  parlour  of  the  George  Inn, 
Ironmonger  Lane,  where  plans  were  first  laid  for  the 
maintenance  of  forty  orphan  children. 

This  wide  and  lofty  building,  with  its  handsome  front 
entrance  and  its  less  imposing  side  gate  in  the  wing,  is 
the  home  for  nearly  three  hundred  boys,  and  nearly  two 
hundred  girls,  when  its  funds  are  sufficient  to  keep  each 
of  the  long  rows  of  neat  beds  in  the  great  airy  wards 
appropriated  to  a  little  sleeper. 

I  mention  the  dormitories  first,  because  both  on  the 
girls'  and  on  the  boys'  side  of  the  building  these  are 
illustrative  of  the  complete  orderliness  and  excellent 
management  of  the  Institution  —  illustrative  of  what 
should  always  be  the  first  consideration,  namely,  to 
bring  comfort  to  the  child's  nature,  to  join  to  necessary 


154  "ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS? 

discipline  a  sense  of  real  freedom  and  happy  youthful 
confidence  without  dread  of  repression  and  the  constant 
looking  for  of  punishment. 

As  to  the  appliances  that  belong  to  the  building,  they 
are  such  as  might  almost  raise  a  doubt  in  some  prejudiced 
minds  whetherweare  notdoingtoo  muchforchildren  inthe 
present  day,  and  thinking  too  constantly  of  their  comfort. 
But,  alas  !  it  needs  many  compensations  to  make  up  for 
the  loss  of  parents  ;  and  in  any  such  an  Institution  where, 
400  children  form  the  great  family,  the  arrangements 
must  be  on  a  large  scale,  so  that  it  is  only  a  matter  of 
experienced  forethought  to  combine  a  generous  liberality 
with  the  truest  economy.  Thus,  there  are  baths,  and 
long  well-ordered  lavatories,  to  each  wing,  even  to  a 
large  plunge  bath  for  each  side  ;  and  there  is  a  great 
laundry,  where  the  girls  are  taught  to  wash,  clear-starch, 
and  iron,  not  in  the  regular  patent  steam-heated  troughs 
only,  but  in  genuine  homely  tubs.  There  is  a  great 
handsome  dining-hall,  with  a  painted  ceiling,  wherein  the 
vast  troop  of  quiet,  orderly,  and  happy-faced  children 
sit  down  to  well-cooked  wholesome  meals  of  meat  and 
pudding.  There  are  two  great  school-rooms,  one  divided 
into  class-rooms  for  the  girls,  and  another  wherein  the 
boys  assemble  to  be  taught,  not  in  the  narrow  spirit  of 
the  first  directors  of  the  old  building  in  the  City  Road, 
but  with  a  full  appreciation  of  the  duty  of  giving  these 
young  minds  and  hearts  full  opportunity  to  expand. 
Next  to  the  admirable  evidences  of  family  comfort,  and 
bright  domestic  influences,  which  pervade  this  place,  we 
may  regard  the  efficient  education  of  the  children  as  the 
truest  sign  of  its  liberal  and  enlightened  management. 
Not  only  the  three  R's  to  the  extent  of  practised  elocu- 
tion, caligraphy  worthy  of  the  old  minute  books  of  the 


BLESSING  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN.  155 

first  scrivening  secretaries,  and  the  lower  mathematics, — 
but  history,  geography,  the  elements  of  physical  science, 
French,  drawing,  and  vocal  music,  are  among  the  subjects 
thoroughly  studied.  It  only  needs  a  perusal  of  the 
reports  of  the  educational  inspectors  and  examiners  to 
see  that  the  work  of  this  great  hive  goes  on  healthily. 
The  boys  have  already  achieved  a  great  position  in  taking 
Government  prizes  for  drawing  at  South  Kensington  ; 
and  the  girls  are  celebrated  for  their  beautiful  needle- 
work. There  is  but  little  time  to  walk  through  all  the 
departments  of  this  great  home — the  kitchens  with  their 
spacious  larders,  and  store-rooms,  and  mighty  cooking 
apparatus ;  the  great  airy  playgrounds  ;  the  large  and 
handsome  room  used  as  a  chapel  (for  those  who  do  not 
go  out  to  evening  service),  and  containing  its  convenient 
reading  desk,  and  sweet-toned  organ.  Let  us  not  forget, 
however,  that  many  of  the  things  which  add  so  vastly  to 
the  beauty  and  completeness  of  the  building  and  its 
various  departments  are  themselves  gifts  from  loving  and 
appreciative  supporters  of  the  Institution. 

But  we  are  due  at  that  Lilliput  village  on  the  brow  of 
Hornsey  Rise — that  series  of  cottage  homes,  where,  on 
each  lower  and  upper  storey,  with  their  exquisitely  clean 
nursery  cots  and  cradles,  and  their  tiny  furniture,  a  neat 
nurse  is  to  be  seen  like  a  fairy  godmother,  with  a  family 
of  chubby  babies,  or  a  more  advanced  charge  of  infants 
able  to  run  like  squirrels  round  the  covered  playground 
or  to  spend  the  regulation  hours  in  that  great  glorious 
school-room,  where  learning  is  turned  into  recreation,  and 
lessons  are  made  vocal, gymnastic,  zoological,  picturesque, 
or  even  fictional,  as  the  times  and  circumstances  may 
dictate.  "  The  Alexandra  Orphanage  for  Infants  "  has 
become  so  well-known  amidst  the  numerous  institutions 


156  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS" 

which  have  been  established  for  the  care  of  [the  orphans 
and  the  fatherless,  that  one  might  think  it  would  be  full 
of  eager  admirers  who  on  visiting  days  go  to  see  the  two 
or  three  hundred.  Why  are  not  all  the  cottages  full,  and 
each  little  toy  bedstead  complete  with  its  rosy,  tiny 
sleeper,  who,  from  earliest  infancy  to  the  maturer  age  of 
eight  years  form  the  assembly  for  which  Mr.  Soul  set 
himself  to  provide  by  public  appeal  ? 

These,  then,  are  the  two  institutions  to  which  that 
modest  little  convalescent  home  in  Harold  Street, 
Margate,  is  a  worthy  appanage,  and  they  may  well 
find  support  among  those  whose  maxim  it  is  to  do  with 
all  their  might  what  their  hands  find  wants  doing. 


WITH  THEM  THAT  FAINT  BY  THE  WAY. 

B^^PH  HERE  are  perhaps  few  conditions  demanding 
pml3»;  greater  sympathy  and  more  ready  aid  than 
HRZpiti;       tnat  of   poor  women  who,  from    temporary 

sickness  or  the  weariness  that  comes  of  hope 

deferred,  are  unable  to  follow  the  employments,  often 
precarious  and  yielding  a  bare  subsistence,  by  which 
they  strive  to  be  independent  of  charitable  aid.  It  is 
only  those  who  know  to  what  extremities  of  need  they 
will  submit  for  shame  of  making  their  poverty  known, 
and  what  mental  suffering  they  will  endure  as  they  find 
their  scanty  savings  dwindling  day  by  day,  and  their  few 
household  goods,  or  even  their  clothing,  and  the  little 
family  mementoes,  which  they  can  only  part  with  as  a 
last  resource,  going  piece  by  piece,  who  can  fully 
realise  all  that  is  meant  by  the  genteel  phrase,  "  very  re- 
duced circumstances,"  as  applied  to  women  of  refined 
I  feelings,  and  frequently  of  gentle  nurture,  who  find  them- 
selves without  the  means  of  obtaining  necessary  food  and 
medical  care  when  health  and  strength  give  way,  and  they 
can  no  longer  work  at  those  few  callings  by  which  they 
can  earn  enough  to  enable  them  to  avoid  a  dreaded 
"application  to  friends." 

Quite  lately,  the  subject  of  some  kind  of  provision  for 


158  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS." 

poor  governesses  who  are  sick,  or  have  to  subsist  during 
long  holidays  on  the  small  balance  of  their  quarterly 
wages,  has  occupied  public  attention,  and  it  would  be 
well  indeed  if  means  could  be  found  for  giving  the  healthy 
temporary  employment,  and  the  weakly  a  quiet  home 
where  their  strength  might  be  restored  without  the  sacri- 
fice of  independence. 

There  are  others,  however,  for  which  such  help  is 
equally  needed — the  dressmaker,  or  the  shop-woman,  on 
whom  long  hours  of  tedious  and  often  of  exhausting  toil 
in  an  unhealthy  atmosphere,  has  begun  to  tell  too 
severely  ;  the  servant  of  good  character  and  respectable 
habits,  who  is  not  so  ill  as  to  be  admitted  to  a  hospital, 
and  yet  is  breaking  down  in  strength,  and  regards  with 
dread  the  necessity  for  going  into  some  obscure  lodging, 
where  her  surplusage  of  wages  will  barely  pay  for  rent 
and  food  during  two  or  three  weeks  enforced  idleness  ; 
the  girl  who  has  learnt  some  ill-paid  business,  which 
affords  her  no  more  than  a  mere  contribution  to  the 
family  funds,  and  leaves  no  margin  for  extra  food  or  me- 
dicine; or  the  fresh  air  that  is  as  important  as  either. 

Any  careful  observer  standing  at  the  door  of  a  general 
hospital,  and  watching  the  throng  of  out-patients  waiting 
wearily  to  see  the  doctor,  will  be  able  to  distinguish  a 
score  of  cases  for  which  a  temporary  rest  with  wholesome 
food  and  the  sympathy  and  loving-kindness  that  refresh 
the  soul  would  bring  true  healing. 

No  large  establishment  in  the  nature  of  a  hospital  or  a 
refuge  affords  the  kind  of  help  for  such  distress  as  theirs. 
They  cannot  be  dealt  with  as  occupants  of  wards ;  for 
they  have  either  recovered  from  the  actual  crisis  of  some 
serious  disorder,  or  are  pining  in  a  depressed  condition  to 
which  no  definite  name  can  be  given  to  classify  it  for 


WITH  THEM  THAT  FAINT  BY  THE  WA  Y.        159 

admission  to  any  public  establishment  for  the  cure  of 
disease.  To  many  of  them  the  idea  of  entering  a  large 
charitable  refuge — and  I  know  of  none  in  London 
adapted  to  such  needs  as  theirs — would  be  repulsive,  as 
suggesting  that  horror  with  which  persons  even  of  a  lower 
grade  regard  the  union  workhouse  ;  what  they  need  is  a 
temporary  home,  and  if  ever  the  time  should  come  when 
a  well-supported  scheme  for  such  a  provision  should  be 
adopted,  it  will  have  to  take  the  form  of  what  is  now  known 
as  the  "  cottage  system."  Indeed,  in  hospitals,  as  well 
as  in  other  large  charitable  institutions,  the  defects  of  the 
old  plan  of  maintaining  a  great  number  of  adult  persons 
in  one  vast  building  have  been  recognised.  The  immense 
ward  with  its  long  rows  of  beds,  the  divided  and  neces- 
sarily confusing  duties  of  attendants,  the  ill-served  meals 
at  a  great  dinner-table  where  there  is  no  possibility  of 
escaping  from  a  too  rigid  routine,  the  depressing,  not  to 
say  degrading,  influence,  resulting  from  the  loss  of  indi- 
viduality, would  make  any  vast  institution  for  convales- 
cents or  invalids  far  less  effectual  in  its  operation.  I 
make  this  reference  only  with  regard  to  the  probable  in- 
auguration of  homes  for'  invalid  women  in  or  near  Lon- 
don, and  because  I  have  just  visited  one,  which,  although 
it  is  not  on  the  cottage  system,  but  is  established  in  a 
rare  old  mansion  of  the  period  of  Queen  Anne,  has  yet 
the  happy  characteristic  of  being  a  family  whose  scanty 
means  is  largely  increased  by  loving  gifts,  instead  of  an 
institution  every  corner  of  which  bears  a  reminder  that 
it  is  "  supported  by  charity." 

In  the  pleasant  airy  High  Street  of  Stoke  Newington, 
and  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  famous  Cedar  Walk  of 
Abney  Park — that  locality  made  famous  by  the  prolonged 
visit  of  Dr.  Watts,  who  went  to  spend  a  week  with  Sir 


160  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS." 

Thomas  Abney,  and  remained  for  the  rest  of  his  long 
blameless  life  the  honoured  guest  of  the  family — is  the 
house  I  speak  of,  "  The  Invalid  Asylum  for  Respectable 
Females  in  London  and  its  Vicinity,'''  superintended  by 
a  ladies'  committee,  and  with  weekly  visitors,  and  a 
matron  to  carry  on  the  practical  work  of  the  executive. 

There  is  nothing  remarkably  picturesque,  nothing  very 
striking  about  this  home  for  thirty  respectable  invalid 
women  employed  in  dependent  situations,  to  whom  it 
affords  a  temporary  asylum,  widely  differing  from  the 
crowded  receptacles  for  the  sick  in  the  metropolis.  One 
of  its  peculiarities  is,  that  the  purity  of  the  family  circle 
is  maintained,  by  the  fact  that  no  patient  is  admitted 
without  a  certificate  of  conduct  signed  by  two  house- 
keepers or  by  an  employer,  while  her  case  is  also  recom- 
mended by  an  annual  subscriber  or  life  governor ;  and 
there  is  a  sense  of  repose  and  quiet  confidence  about  the 
inmates  which  is  particularly  suggestive  of  the  care  taken 
to  recognise  their  individual  claims,  and  the  interest 
which  is  manifested  in  them  during  the  time  of  their 
sojourn. 

This  very  quietude  and  sense  of  rest,  and  gradual 
renewal  of  health  and  strength  in  a  serene  retreat  is,  in 
fact,  the  feature  which  attracts  my  attention.  It  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  I  am  ready  to  attribute  much  of 
such  influences  to  the  fact  that  the  institution  was  origin- 
ally established  by  ladies  representing  the  unobtrusive 
beneficent  work  of  the  "  Society  of  Friends,"  and  that  the 
order  and  peace  which  is  its  delightful  characteristic, 
may  in  a  great  measure  be  traced  to  that  foundation.  At 
any  rate,  these  qualifications  so  identify  it  that  I  feel 
justified  in  regarding  it  to  some  extent  as  a  worthy 
example  of  the  method  to  be  adopted  in  any  institution, 


WITH  THEM  THAT  FAINT  BY  I  HE   WAY.      161 

which,  without  being  altogether  a  free  "charity,"  takes 
only  such  a  small  sum  from  the  patient  or  her  friends 
as  suffices  to  keep  away  thfc  degrading  feeling  of 
pauperism,  or  of  utter  dependence  on  the  bounty  of 
strangers.  It  is  true  that  the  principal  life-governorships 
include  the  privilege  of  sending  entirely  gratuitous 
patients,  but  in  ordinary  cases  the  annual  subscriber  of  a 
guinea  recommends  the  case,  and  when  the  patient  is  ad- 
mitted, the  sum  of  twenty  shillings  is  received  for  the 
month's  medical  attendance,  lodging,  and  full  board, 
"  including  tea  and  sugar,"  for  a  time  not  exeeding  one 
month,  after  which,  should  the  case  require  a  longer 
stay,  the  ticket  must  be  renewed  by  the  same  or  another 
subscriber,  on  the  further  payment  of  twenty  shillings. 
If  the  patient  be  in  the  employment  of  the  subscriber,  the 
payment  of  this  sum  will  suffice,  without  the  renewal 
ticket,  an  arrangement  which  should  commend  the  insti- 
tution to  every  benevolent  employer  of  female  labour. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  no  cases  of  infectious 
disease  are  admitted,  and  that  every  applicant  is  examined 
by  the  medical  attendant.  No  patient  is  admitted  who 
is  not  above  ten  years  of  age ;  and  neither  ei  private 
cookery,"  nor  the  introduction  of  spirituous  liquors  by 
visitors,  is  permitted,  any  more  than  gratuities  to  servants 
of  the  Institution. 

It  may  be  remarked  that  though  a  large  number  of 
cases  are  received  during  each  year,  the  very  fact  of 
contributions  being  made  by  the  patients  themselves, 
who  are  thus  relieved  from  the  sense  of  utter  depend- 
ence, appears  to  have  prevented  the  Institution  from 
receiving  as  large  a  degree  of  public  support  as  it  might 
command  if  it  were  an  ordinary  charity.  This  is  to 
be  lamented,  for  the  Institution  is,  after  all,  less  a  hos- 

ii 


162  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS." 

pital  than  a  temporary  home,  and  it  appeals  on  behalf 
of  a  peculiar  form  of  distress,  the  claims  of  which 
are  of  a  specific  and  none  the  less  of  a  very  urgent 
character.  But  in  order  to  realise  the  kind  of  work  that 
is  most  needed,  and  is  here  being  accomplished,  let  us 
pay  a  visit  to  the  house  itself.  We  have  been  hitherto 
standing  on  the  broad  flight  of  steps  inside  the  tall  iron 
gates,  and  have  hesitated  to  sully  their  hearthstone 
purity,  for  it  is  Saturday,  and  we  may  well  have  an  in- 
convenient sense  that  the  short  hand  of  the  clock  is 
already  close  to  the  dinner-time  of  the  institution. 

With  a  long  experience  of  paying  unexpected  visits,  I 
am  prepared  to  encounter  remonstrance,  even  though  it 
only  take  the  form  of  a  critical  glance  at  my  boots  as  a 
means  of  possible  maculation  of  the  newly-cleaned  hall 
and  passages.     Conscious  of  having  judiciously  employed 
a  member  of  the  shoe-black  brigade,  I  can  endure  this 
scrutiny,  and,  with  a  few  words  of  explanation,  am  con- 
ducted, by  the  matron  herself,  over  the  grand  old  house, 
whose  broad  staircase  and  elaborately  carved  balusters  of 
black  oak  at  once  attest   not  only  its  antiquity  but  also 
its  aristocracy.    I  have  already  said  that  there  is  nothing 
here  on  which  to  found  a  "picturesque  description,"  and 
yet  the  air  of  repose,  the  sense  of  almost  spotless  cleanli- 
ness, the  freshness  of  the  large  lofty  rooms   containing 
from  three   to   five  or  six  comfortable  beds  with  their 
snowy  counterpanes,  the  general  order  and  pleasant  seclu- 
sion, are  remarkably  suggestive  of  the  intention  of  the 
place.     Two  of  the  patients,  to  whom   I   make  my  re- 
spects, are  not  yet  sufficiently  recovered  to  join  the  daily 
dinner-party  in  the  neat  dining-room.      One  of  them,  an 
elderly  lady,  who  has   only  just  been  brought  here,  is 
slowly  recovering  from  very  severe  illness,  and   cannot 


WITH  THEM  THAT  FAINT  BY  THE  WA  V.      163 

even  sit  up  in  the  bed,  whence  she  regards  me  with  an 
expression  which  seems  to  intimate  that  she  has  reached 
a  haven  of  rest.  Her  companion,  a  young  woman — also 
in  bed  in  the  same  room — is  sitting  very  upright,  cheer- 
fully engaged  in  some  problem  of  needlework,  and 
responds  with. a  hopeful  smile  to  the  declaration  of  the 
matron,  that  they  "  mean  to  make  a  woman  of  her  if  she 
is  good." 

Close  to  this  room  is  the  neat  lavatory  with  its  bath, 
supplied  with  hot  and  cold  water,  and  on  the  landing  I 
note  another  bath,  on  wheels,  for  use  in  any  part  of  the 
house  where  it  may  be  required.  All  the  accessories  are 
home-like  ;  and  in  the  invalid  sitting-room,  on  an  upper 
storey,  where  two  convalescents,  not  yet  able  to  get  down- 
stairs, greet  me  from  a  pair  of  easy  chairs,  there  is  the 
same  pervading  influence  which  distinguishes  the  house 
from  those  large  institutions  where  everything  is  charac- 
terised bya  depressing  mechanical  dead  level.  The  library 
— a  pleasant  cheerful  room — is  in  course  of  refurnish- 
ing ;  and  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  our  best  known 
periodicals  find  a  place  there,  while  the  stock  of  books, 
either  gifts  or  loans,  are  likely  soon  to  be  replenished, 
a  matter  wherein  extra  aid  would  be  appreciated,  and 
could  readily  be  afforded  by  those  who  have  volumes  tc 
spare. 

Already  the  cloth  is  laid  in  the  dining-room,  and 
dinner  itself  consists  of  hot  meat  with  the  usual  acces- 
sories every  day,  except  on  Sundays,  when  there  is  a  cold 
dinner,  while,  of  course,  the  invalids  who  are  ordered 
medical  diet  have  fish,  custards,  or  other  delicate  fare 
specially  provided.  Each  patient  has  a  pint  of  ale  or 
beer  daily,  and  wine  as  a  remedial  stimulant,  according 
to  the  doctor's  orders. 

11 — 2 


164'  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:' 

There  is  just  time  before  dinner  is  served  to  walk 
through  the  room  into  the  grand  old  garden  which 
extends  from  a  pleasant  sheltered  lawn  and  flower- 
garden,  with  a  glorious  fig-tree  in  full  leaf  and  fruit 
against  the  sunny  wall,  to  a  great  kitchen-garden  and 
orchard,  with  a  wealth  of  fruit  and  vegetables  (and  notably 
a  venerable  and  prolific  mulberry  tree),  and  extending 
in  a  pleasant  vista  of  autumn  leaves.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  high  wall  is  the  Cedar  Walk  already  men- 
tioned ;  and  the  whole  place  is  so  still  and  balmy  on  this 
autumnal  day,  that  we  may  go  away  with  a  very  distinct 
appreciation  of  the  rest  and  peace  which,  with  regular 
nutritious  food,  rest,  and  medicine,  may  bring  restoration 
to  the  physical  health,  just  as  the  hopeful  ministrations 
of  good  and  pious  women  who  visit  the  home  daily  may 
bring  a  sense  of  peace  and  comfort  to  many  a  weary 
spirit  and  burdened  heart. 


'IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH" 

^■P5|f  HERE  are  some  of  whom  we  might  be  ready 
OSr  *°  say*  ^ey  dwell  in  that  valley  ; — that  the 
|g|||:;:      shadow  of  death  lies  darkling  before  them, 

constantly   enwrapping   them, — enshrouding 

them  in  gloom.  We  are  accustomed  to  think  so  of  per- 
sons suffering  from  what  we  call  incurable  diseases,  some 
of  which  are  painful,  occasionally  agonising,  others  sus- 
ceptible of  relief  from  the  suffering  that  attends  them. 

We  are  so  apt  to  forget  that  we  are  every  one  of  us 
incurable.  Though  we  may  not  at  present  be  aware  of 
the  disease  that  will  bear  us  farther  and  farther  into  that 
valley,  where  the  wings  of  the  great  angel,  so  seeming 
dark  as  to  overshadow  all  things,  may  yet  be  re- 
vealed to  us  as  glowing  with  the  brightness  of  the  light 
which  our  unaccustomed  eyes  cannot  behold,  we  are 
none  the  less  certain  to  succumb  to  it.  It  may  be  that 
some  of  us  will  live  to  be  conscious  of  no  other  than  the 
most  fatal  of  all  diseases — because  no  mortal  cure  has 
been  or  ever  will  be  found  for  it — incurable  old  age. 
There  have  been  those  who  lived  long  enough  to  look 
calmly  at  the  slowly  lengthening  shadow  in  the  valley,  and 
almost  to  wonder  if  Deathhad  forgotten  and  were  depart- 
ing from  them, leaving  only  the  black  trail  behind;  but  the 


1 66  "  ABOUT  M  Y  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:1 

time  at  last  came,  perhaps  when  they  had  learnt  to  see 
more  than  shadow,  to  catch  the  glint  of  the  heavenly- 
glory  beyond. 

It  is  a  happy  thought  that  many  poor  afflicted  children 
of  God  have  seen  this  too,  and  continue  to  see  it  daily, 
although,  like  St.  Paul,  they  also  die  daily.  It  is  com- 
forting to  believe  that  many  who  know  what  their  dis- 
ease is — who  are  pronounced  to  be  "  hopelessly  incur- 
able "  in  a  rather  different  sense  to  that  in  which  we  may 
all  be  declared  to  be  hopelessly  incurable  also — do  not 
dwell  perpetually  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow.  Christ 
has  come  to  them  and  taken  them  out  of  it,  that  even  in 
this  life,  where  He  is  they  may  be  also,  secure  in  the  love 
of  the  Father,  having  already,  if  one  may  so  speak, 
overcome  death  through  Him  who  is  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life.  The  great,  the  essential  difference  between 
these  sufferers  and  the  rest  of  mankind  is  that  they  are 
almost  always  conscious  of  the  disease  which  is  incurable 
because  of  its  accompanying  pain,  and  that  they  are  dis- 
qualified for  many  of  the  ordinary  uses,  and  also  most  of 
the  ordinary  enjoyments  of  life.  Perhaps  the  chief  poig- 
nant sense  of  their  condition  is  that  they  are  no  longer 
capable  of  fulfilling  the  ordinary  duties  of  life  either. 
They  must  be  dependent  always  ;  and  to  many  souls  the 
suspicion  that  they  may  live  only  to  be  a  burden  on 
others,  to  take  instead  of  giving,  to  lean  upon  instead  of 
supporting,  is  itself  almost  intolerable,  until  they  learn 
to  look  higher,  and  acknowledge  that  not  only  all  the 
things  of  the  world,  but  we  ourselves,  they  and  theirs, 
belong  to  God,  and  that  life  and  death,  height  and  depth, 
principalities  and  powers,  are  but  His  creatures,  incapable 
of  separating  us  from  His  love.  The  same  reflection, 
coupled  with  that  of  our  own  incurability  and  our  own 


"  IN  THE  VALLE  Y  OF  THE  SHADO  W  OF  BE  A  TH."    1 67 

constant  liability  to  be  stricken  down  with  hopeless  and 
painful  malady,  should  surely  lead  us  to  recognise  the 
duty  of  helping  some  among  the  thousands  who  have 
not  only  lost  health,  but  with  it  the  means  of  maintaining 
life,  and,  more  sadly  still,  the  hope  of  restoration  to 
former  strength,  or  oven  temporary  recovery. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  work  done  by  convalescent 
homes  and  hospitals  ;  but  there  are  those  who,  being  sick 
unto  death,  yet  do  not  soon  die — those  who  must  be  dis- 
charged from  hospitals  uncured,in  order  to  make  room  for 
the  curable,  and  who,  unable  to  work,  unaccustomed  to  beg, 
and  almost  ready  to  meet  death  itself  rather  than  sink 
into  sordid  abject  pauperism,  know  not  whither  to  turn 
in  their  dire  necessity.  It  was  to  aid  these  that  an  appeal 
was  written  twenty  years  ago,  asking  for  funds  to  estab- 
lish an  institution  for  the  reception  of  those  suffering 
from  hopeless  disease.  It  is  to  see  what  has  been  the  re- 
sult of  that  appeal  that  I  visit  the  Royal  Hospital  for 
Incurables  at  Putney  Heath  to-day. 

It  was  in  1854  that  Doctor  Andrew  Reed — to  whose 
indicating  hand  we  are  indebted  for  the  installation  of 
many  of  our  noblest  charities — made  an  urgent  appeal  on 
behalf  of  those  who,  being  discharged  as  incurable  from 
various  hospitals,  were  left  helpless,  and  often  destitute, 
since,  amidst  all  the  institutions  which  beneficence  had 
founded,  there  was  none  to  which  they  could  prefer  a 
claim. 

Let  us  see  what  has  been  done  in  twenty  years  to  alle- 
viate what  might  seem  to  be  almost  hopeless  suffering. 

Let  us,  coming  face  to  face  with  the  mystery  of  pain, 
and  looking  as  it  were  from  afar  on  that  dark  shadow 
which  yet  always  lies  so  near  to  every  one  of  us,  note 
how  in  the  heart  of  the  mystery  there  is  hidden  a  joyful 


1 68  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS." 

hope  for  humanity,   how  in  the  very  shadow  of  death 
there  is  a  light  that  never  yet  has  shone  on  land  or  sea. 

It  is  a  still  autumnal  day,  and,  as  we  turn  up  the 
wooded  lane  on  the  left  of  the  hill  leading  from  the  Put- 
ney Railway  Station  to  Wimbledon,  a  tender  gleam  in 
the  grey  clouds  betokens  coming  rainfall.  A  light, 
hanging  drift  descends  upon  the  distant  hills,  and  breaks 
into  pale  vaporous  shapes  amidst  the  wooded  slopes  and 
valleys.  The  yellow  leaves  that  strew  the  ground  lie 
motionless,  as  though  they  waited  for  their  late  com- 
panions to  fall  gently  from  the  branches  overhead  and 
join  their  silent  company. 

Coming  into  a  broader  roadway,  and  passing  through 
the  gate  of  a  lodge,  we  come  almost  suddenly  upon  a 
glorious  sloping  lawn,  adorned  with  goodly  trees,  worthy 
of  the  great.. building — meant  for  a  ducal  residence,  and 
now  put  to  nobler  uses — which,  for  all  its  stately  look, 
has  about  it  a  home-likeness  that  is  full  of  promise.  Even 
the  matchless  landscape  lying  around  it — the  expanse  of 
wood  and  dale,  the  soft  slopes  of  Surrey  hills,  the  deep- 
embowered  glades  where  the  bronze-and-gold  of  moving 
tree-tops  takes  a  changeful  sheen  from  slowly-drifting 
clouds,  or  reflects  strange  gleams  of  colour  from  the 
glistening  silver  of  the  rain — will  not  hold  us  from  the 
nearer  glow  of  windows  bright  with  flowers,  which  give  a 
festal  look  to  the  place,  although  it  is  so  quiet  that  we 
stand  and  imagine  for  a  moment  what  it  is  that  we 
have  come  to  see.  For  this  great  mansion,  with  its  long 
rows  of  windows  and  wide-spreading  wings,  is  the  home 
of  a  hundred  and  fifty-four  men  and  women,  some  of 
whom  have  been  suddenly  stricken  down,  others  having 
slowly  fallen  day  by  day  into  a  condition  of  incurable 
disease,  and,  in  many  cases,  also  into  a  condition  of 
utter   bodily  helplessness.      They,   and    the   attendants 


"  IN  THE  VALLE  Y  OF  THE  SHADO IV  OF  DEA  TH:'   169 

whose  constant  kindly  services  are  essential  for  their 
relief,  constitute  the  family  of  what  is  known,  plainly 
enough,  as  "The  Royal  Hospital  for  Incurables."  There 
are  no  distinctions  among  its  members,  though  in  their 
previous  lives  they  have  belonged  to  various  grades— no 
distinctions,  at  least,  except  those  which  arise  from  per- 
sonal qualifications. 

The  claim  for  election  to  the  benefits  of  the  charity  is 
the  necessity  which  is  implied  in  the  name  of  the  institu- 
tion itself:  and  once  within  its  sheltering  walls  the  pa- 
tients, whose  failing  eyes  brighten,  and  whose  wan  cheeks 
flush  with  every  loving  mention  of  it  as  their  home,  are 
all  alike  sharers  in  its  benefits. 

Not  only  the  154  at  present  within  its  walls,  however, 
but  327  of  those  who,  having  family  and  friends  with 
whom  to  dwell,  receive  pensions  of  £20  a  year  each,  and 
so  cease  to  be  a  heavy  burden  to  others. 

Do  you  think  at  first  sight,  and  from  the  external 
appearance  of  the  building,  that  charity  here  has  gone 
beyond  precedent  in  providing  such  a  place — a  palatial 
pile  standing  amidst  scenery  that  one  might  well  come 
far  to  see  ?  Remember  what  is  the  need  of  those  who 
have  to  be  lifted  out  of  the  dark,  hopeless  depths  of 
what  is  almost  despair  ;  of  those  who,  finding  themselves 
banished  from  hospital  wards,  unable  to  earn  their  bread, 
feeling  themselves  a  burden  upon  those  for  whom  they 
would  almost  consent  to  die  rather  than  live  upon  their 
poverty;  of  those  who,  in  the  midst  of  hourly  pain,  have 
the  mental  anguish  of  knowing  that  the  long  calendar  of 
darkening  days  may  find  them  utterly  dependent  on  the 
toil  of  others  most  dear  to  them,  and  whose  few  expe- 
dients can  bring  little  ease,  and  will  not  serve  to  hide 
the  ever-present  sense  of  disappointment  and  distress. 


1 70  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS:' 

Think  how  much  wealth  is  wasted  daily  in  the  world, 
and  what  a  small  part  of  it  suffices  to  lighten  by  every 
available  means  the  burden  of  such  lives  as  these ;  the 
sorrow  of  those  who,  in  the  dreadful  deprivation  of  what 
to  us  seems  almost  all  that  makes  life  dear,  have  no 
resource  between  that  provided  for  them  in  such  a  place 
as  this  and  the  infirmary-ward  of  a  workhouse,  amidst 
sordid  surroundings  and  the  hard,  mechanical,  unfeeling 
officialism  which  in  such  cases  is  little  more  than  organ- 
ised neglect. 

There  are  people  who  would  reduce  all  charitable  in- 
stitutions— yes,  even  such  as  this,  of  which  living  per- 
sonal interest  and  the  care  that  comes  of  more  than 
merely  casual  benevolence  are  the  very  foundation  and 
corner-stone — to  a  dead  level  of  official  rule,  in  which 
benevolence  should  be  represented  by  a  mechanical  de- 
partment, and  the  sentiment  of  charity  by  a  self-elected 
board  of  control,  dealing  with  public  subscriptions  as 
though  they  were  a  poor-rate,  and  recognising  neither 
individual  interest  nor  the  right  of  contributors  to  give  it 
expression.  Such  a  system  would  lack  the  very  qualifi- 
cation most  needed  here,  and  to  be  found  only  in  that 
voluntary  personal  interest  that  brings  to  the  recipients 
of  bounty  more  than  the  mere  bounty  itself,  the  heart- 
throb of  sympathy,  the  feeling  that  the  gift  means  more 
than  the  cold  official  recognition  of  a  national  duty,  that 
it  is  the  expression  of  loving-kindness  ever  active  and 
living;  and  so  making  for  the  helpless,  the  destitute,  and 
the  dying,  not  a  mere  asylum,  but  a  home. 

The  entrance  into  thehallof  a  cheerful,  genial  gentleman, 
with  a  kindly,  brisk  manner,  and  a  reassuring  expression 
of  deliberation  and  repose  in  his  observant  face  and  easy 
bearing,  rouses  us  from  melancholy  fancies,  and  with  a 


« IN  THE  VALLE  Y  OF  THE  SHADO  W  OF  DEA  TH?  1 7 1 

few  words  of  courteous  welcome  we  are  at  once  conducted 
to  the  door  that  is  to  open  to  us  the  first  scene  in  this 
wonderful  visit. 

A  spacious  assembly  room — let  us  call  it  by  the  good 
old  name  of"  parlour,"  for  there  is  much  quietly  animated 
talk  going  on — talk,  and  needlework  of  all  kinds,  from 
the  knitting  of  a  warm  woollen  shawl  to  the  manipula- 
tion of  delicate  lace,  and  the  deft  handling  of  implements 
for  making  those  exquisite  tortures  of  society  known  as 
antimacassars.  With  ever  so  wide  an  experience  of 
halls,  salons,  suites,  or  drawing-rooms,  the  visitor  can  see 
nothing  resembling  this  wonderful  parlour  elsewhere.  A 
room  of  noble  proportions,  one  end  of  which  is  occupied 
by  an  organ  ;  the  great  windows  reaching  almost  from 
floor  to  ceiling,  and  overlooking  a  broad  expanse  of  lawn, 
with  a  glorious  view  of  hill  and  woodland  beyond  ;  on  the 
tables  flowers,  books,  ornaments  ;  in  every  kind  of  couch 
and  chair — many  of  which  are  comfortable  beds  on  wheels 
and  springs — a  company  of  women,  with  bright,  cheerful, 
intelligent  faces,  full  of  a  recent  interest,  and,  even  in 
cases  where  some  paroxysm  of  pain  is  passing,  with  a 
certain  serene  satisfaction  which  it  is  infinitely  good  to  see. 

There  has  been  a  morning  service,  conducted  by  a 
visiting  clergyman,  and  there  is  a  general  expression  of 
approval  which,  if  the  reverend  gentleman  himself  were 
present  to  witness  it,  would  surely  prove  highly  grati- 
fying. The  congregation  has  settled  down  to  easy  talk, 
and  has  resumed  its  occupation  of  plain  and  fancy  needle- 
work. Here  is  an  old  lady  whose  silver  hair  adds  to  her 
natural  grace  and  dignity,  who  is  busy  with  wool-knit- 
ting, and  at  the  same  time  engages  in  a  discriminating 
criticism  of  the  address  to  one  of  the  many  visitors  who 
sit  and  spend  an  hour  of  their  afternoon  in  agreeable  chat. 


172  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

There  is  a  pretty  but  rather  sad-eyed  mignon  lady,  whose 
excellently-fitting  silk  dress,  delicate  hands,  and  general 
"  niceness  "  of  appearance,  quite  prepare  us  to  see  the 
beautiful  examples  of  all  kinds  of  fancy  work  of  which 
she  never  seems  to  tire.  Every  year,  in  June,  they  hold 
a  grand  bazaar  at  the  hospital,  so  that  those  who  are 
skilful  and  capable  are  able  to  earn  enough  money  to 
clothe  themselves  as  they  please — everything  except 
clothing  being  found  by  the  charity,  except  to  two  or 
three  inmates  who  are  able  to  pay  for  their  own  main- 
tenance. Now  we  hear  the  low  tones  of  cheerful  talk, 
the  pleasant  ripple  of  laughter — note  the  brightening 
glance,  the  quick  smile,  the  feeble  but  earnest  finger-clasp 
which  greets  the  cheerful  salutation  of  the  house  governor, 
Mr.  Darbyshire,  or  the  presence  of  his  wife,  the  lady 
matron  of  this  great  happy  family  of  incurables,  we  begin 
to  wonder  at  our  gloomy  estimate  of  the  place  before 
this  visit. 

Nor  is  the  revelation  of  cheerfulness,  of  light  in 
shadow,  less  remarkable  in  the  dormitories  themselves. 
But  then  what  rooms  they  are !  Each  bed  is,  as  it 
were,  set  in  an  alcove  of  its  own  snow-white  hang- 
ings, relieved  by  bits  of  colour  which  would  delight  an 
artist's  eye — pieces  of  embroidery,  framed  illuminated 
texts,  bright  flecks  of  Berlin  woolwork,  or  glistening 
designs  in  beads,  or  deep  glowing  knick-knacks  wrought 
in  silk  and  lace.  Each  little  bedside  table,  though  it 
may  hold  medicine  and  diet — drink  and  requisites  for 
the  sick — is  decked  with  flowers  and  little  framed  pic- 
tures, gaily-bound  books,  and  bright-hued  toys  and  trifles, 
that  make  it  look  like  a  miniature  stand  at  a  fancy  fair. 
In  some  cases  the  sense  of  combined  purity  and  glow  of 
colour  is  so  great,  that  it  is  difficult  to  realise  that  we 


"IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH."  173 

are  in  one  or  other  of  a  series  of  sick-rooms.  Every  thino- 
is  so  spotless,  so  exquisitely  clean  and  orderly,  that 
nothing  less  than  perfect  nursing  could  explain  it — for  be 
it  remembered  that  the  place  is  open  to  visitors  every 
day — and  amidst  some  of  the  most  terrible  afflictions 
from  which  humanity  can  suffer  there  is  nothing  revolting. 
Expressions  of  pain  and  of  utter  prostration  and  weakness 
there  are,  of  course  ;  but  even  these  are  only  alternative 
with  the  general  placid  contentment  and  thankfulness 
that  is  the  prevailing  characteristic. 

Even  in  two  severe  cases  of  cancer  the  terrible  effects 
of  the  malady  are  less  notable,  because  of  the  surround- 
ing conditions.  A  sprightly  and  engaging  girl,  with 
features  and  social  life  alike  marred  and  obliterated  by 
this  dreadful  malady,  is  surely  one  of  the  saddest  of  all 
the  sad  sights  in  such  an  institution ;  but  here  the  bright- 
ness and  genial  influence  of  the  place,  and  of  those  who 
are  its  ministrants,  have  had  their  effect,  and  even  the 
half-obliterated  features  gain  a  grateful,  loving,  cheerful 
expression  ;  the  poor  eyes  beam  with  pleasure  as  the 
governorstarts  some  reminiscence  of  that  pleasant  summer 
water-party  of  his,  in  which  one  of  the  two  sufferers  had 
to  be  carried  to  the  boat  in  his  arms,  and  both  of  them, 
deeply  veiled,  were  rowed  by  those  same  guarding  arms 
for  a  glorious  voyage  on  the  river,  where  the  summer's 
sunshine  and  gladness  stole  into  the  hearts  of  the  sufferers, 
and  left  a  halo  of  remembrance  that  is  not  perhaps  so 
very  far  from  the  anticipations  of  that  stream  which 
maketh  glad  the  children  of  God. 

Here  are  rooms  wherein  only  two  or  three  beds  are 
placed,  while  few  of  them  contain  more  than  six,  but  all 
of  them  are  bright,  airy,  lofty,  full  of  space,  and  with  the 
same  sense   of  purity.     And   from  every  window  some 


1 74  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS:' 

fresh  and  lovely  view  of  the  surrounding  landscape,  with 
all  its  changeful  aspects,  may  be  seen — the  beds  being 
so  placed  that  every  patient  has  her  own  special  expanse 
of  territory  to  solace  her  waking  hours,  even  though  she 
be  unable  to  go  down  to  the  assembly-room.  Here,  in  a 
room  particularly  bright  and  cheerful,  lies  a  young  woman 
with  a  wealth  of  dark  hair  on  the  pillow  where  her  in- 
telligent face  beams  with  a  certain  courage,  although  her 
body  and  limbs  have  been  for  years  immovable — only 
one  arm,  for  an  inch  or  two,  and  three  fingers  of  the  right 
hand,  can  be  stirred — and  yet,  as  we  stand  and  talk  with 
her,  some  small  simple  jest  about  her  own  condition  causes 
her  to  laugh  till  the  bed  shakes.  She  has  learnt  to  write 
by  holding  a  pencil  in  her  mouth,  and  inscribes  neat  and 
legible  letters  on  paper  placed  on  a  rest  just  in  front  of 
her  face.  She  is  not  only  cheerful,  but  actually  hope- 
ful, though  she  has  been  for  years  in  this  condition ;  and 
her  relations,  great  and  small,  visit  her,  to  find  her  always 
heartily  determined  to  look  on  the  bright  side.  At  the 
foot  of  her  bed,  near  the  window,  is  a  swing  looking-glass 
on  a  pedestal,  and  in  this  she  sees  reflected  the  distant 
prospect  of  autumn  wood  and  field,  extending  miles 
away.  Judging  from  her  nobly  equable  and  smiling  face, 
she  must  be  the  life  of  the  room  of  which  she  has  been 
so  long  an  occupant.  In  another  apartment  a  poor 
schoolmistress  suffering  from  hemorrhage  of  the  lungs 
lies  reading  for  many  hours  a  day,  her  face  bearing  a 
painful  expression,  her  manner  eager,  her  constant  craving 
to  work  on,  by  the  study  of  books  concerning  the  problems 
of  this  earthly  life  and  the  sciences  that  strive  to  demon- 
strate them  and  yet  only  bring  us  to  the  barrier  of  the 
eternal  world.  She  yearns  for  one  more  day  amidst  her 
classes,  and  for  the  opportunity  of  testing  the  results  of 


"  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH."   175 

sick-bed  thoughts  on  a  method  of  education  which  should 
adapt  itself  to  the  individual  temperament  and  mental 
peculiarity  of  each  child.  Amidst  a  troubled  tide  of 
thoughts  that  are  perhaps  sometimes  too  much  'for  the 
weary  brain,  she  may  learn  to  recognise  the  rest  that 
comes  after  hearing  the  Divine  voice  say,  "  Peace  !  be 
still  ;"  and  so  a  great  spiritual  calm  may  fall  upon  her, 
and  give  her  rest. 

Yet  another  visit,  and  we  find  a  girl  who,  from  an  acci- 
dental fall,  is  as  immovable  as  a  statue,  her  dark  ques- 
tioning eyes  and  mobile  face  alone  excepted.  Yet  she  is 
sometimes  lifted  into  a  wheel-chair  that  stands  stabled 
by  her  bedside,  and  joins  the  company  in  the  great  par- 
lour downstairs.  There  is  another  little  parlour,  with 
quite  a  select  coterie,  under  the  presidency  of  an  elderly 
gentlewoman,  who  is  busily  knitting  at  a  table,  while  her 
friends  recline  at  the  windows,  on  their  special  couches  ; 
and  in  several  of  the  dormitories  patients  are  sitting  up, 
reading,  working,  or  looking  at  the  fitful  aspect  of  earth 
and  sky  on  this  October  afternoon.  Sufferers  from  heart- 
disease,  with  that  anxious  contracted  expression  so  indi- 
cative of  their  malady,  are  numerous  ;  but  the  larger 
number  of  the  patients  seem  to  suffer  from  rheumatism, 
or  paralysis — among  them  one  lady,  with  silvered  hair, 
and  yet  with  bright  expressive  eyes,  and  still  bonny  face, 
who  was  once  a  a  well-known  singer  in  London.  She  is 
unable  to  rise  from  couch  or  bed,  but  the  readiness  of  repar- 
tee, the  bright  inquiring  look,  the  quick  appreciation  and 
retort,  remain,  as  do  a  certain  swift  expressive  action  of 
head  and  hands,  which  is  marvellously  suggestive  of  dra- 
matic gesture  ;  for,  happily,  her  hands  and  arms  are  still 
capable  of  movement,  and  she  has  several  periodicals  on 
the  coverlet — among  them  the  latest  monthly  part  of 


176  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:1 

a  magazine,  in  one  of  the  stories  in  which  she  is  evi- 
dently interested.  She,  with  two  or  three  others,  are  in- 
mates of  the  hospital  at  their  own  charges. 

We  have  but  little  time  to  devote  to  the  men's  side 
of  this  great  institution  ;  but  its  dormitories  and  furni- 
ture, its  large  day-room,  where  daughters  sit  talking  in 
low  voice  to  fathers,  sisters  to  brothers,  wives  to  husbands 
— its  pleasant  out-door  contingent,  who  have  just  returned 
from  slowly  perambulating  the  grounds  in  wheel-chairs, 
or  sit  basking  outside  in  the  latest  gleam  of  sunshine — 
its  club  in  the  rustic  hut  especially  appointed  for  this 
purpose — all  might  bear  comment.  Here  is  a  sturdy 
youth,  who,  falling  from  a  tree,  and  alighting  on  his  heels, 
incurably  injured  his  spine,  and  now  lies  all  day,  mostly 
out  of  doors,  and  without  a  coat,  frequently  engaged  in 
knitting.  There  is  a  poor  gentleman,  who  has  for  six- 
teen years  been  almost  immovable,  from  rheumatism, 
even  his  jaw  being  so  fixed  that  he  takes  food  through  an 
aperture  in  the  teeth.  He  has  been  through  two  or  three 
hospitals,  and  under  the  care  of  the  most  eminent  sur- 
geons, and  has  come  here  now  as  to  an  ark  of  refuge, 
where  he  can  read  and  talk,  and  be  wheeled  about 
the  neighbourhood  on  occasional  visits.  Only  one  case 
of  all  those  that  we  witness  is  startling  in  its  melancholy 
sense  of  terrible  loss  and  incurability  ;  that  rigid,  grimly- 
set  face,  in  the  ward  where  the  corner  bed  in  which  the 
grizzled  head  lies  is  the  only  one  occupied  this  afternoon. 
The  body  belonging  to  that  face  is  almost  immovable — 
the  ears  are  deaf,  the  tongue  is  mute,  the  eyes  are  nearly 
sealed — not  by  sudden  calamity,  but  by  gradual  yielding 
to  decay  or  disease.  He  has  been  an  inmate  several 
years,  and  is  the  one  case  here  before  which  we  may 
almost  quail  in  our  solemn  sense  of  affliction  ;  and  yet 


" IN THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH."  177 

and  yet,  to  the  touch  of  certain  loving  hands  that  dead 
face  kindles  ;  that  mind,  seemingly  locked  in  stupor, 
wakes  to  life ;  that  intelligence,  encased  in  a  casket  iron- 
bound  and  motionless,  can  understand  the  signs  that  are 
made  upon  his  own  hands  or  forehead,  and  interpret  them 
so  as  to  give  some  kind  of  grateful  answer.  It  needs  the 
touch  of  the  lady  nurse  to  bring  out  this  strange  music 
from  an  instrument  so  unstrung ;  but  that  it  should  be 
done  at  all  is  an  evidence  of  the  hold  that  loving  sym- 
pathy and  some  subtle  influence  almost  beyond  mere 
bodily  capacity  of  expression  has  taken  in  these  dear  souls 
of  the  sick  and  the  afflicted.  That  is  where  the  shadow 
lifts,  even  in  the  darkness  of  the  valley ;  that  is  how  the 
Spirit  of  Christ  may  abound;  and  the  soul,  in  recognizing 
the  work  of  the  disciple,  may  recognise  the  Lord  therein, 
and  remember  the  Living  Word — "Though  I  walk  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for 
Thou  art  with  me." 


12 


WITH  THE  HALT  AND  THE  LAME." 

SUPPOSE  there  are  few  people  in  England, 
who  are  at  all  accustomed  to  keep  Christmas 
amidst  a  loving"  family  circle,  who  have  not 
during  the  sacred  festivities  of  the  season, 
and  all  the  household  sentiments  with  which  they  are  in- 
separably associated,  made  some  reference  to  the  "Christ- 
mas Carol,"  that  famous  story  of  the  great  novelist  whose 
presence  in  the  spirit  of  his  books  has  brightened  so  many 
a  Christmas  hearth,  and  moved  so  many  gentle  hearts  to 
kindly  thoughts  and  words  of  loving  cheer. 

Amongst  all  the  well-known  characters  to  which  Mr. 
Dickens  introduced  thousands  of  readers — characters 
who,  to  many  of  us,  became  realities,  and  were  spoken 
of  as  though  they  were  living  and  among  our  ordinary 
acquaintances — there  have  been  none,  except  perhaps 

(little  Nell,  who  have  evoked  more  sympathetic  recogni- 
tion than  Tiny  Tim,  the  poor  crippled  child  of  Bob 
Cratchit — the  child,  the  sound  of  whose  little  crutch 
upon  the  stair  was  listened  for  with  loving  expectation — 
the  shadow  of  whose  vacant  chair  in  the  "Vision  of 
Christmas,"  gave  to  the  humbled  usurer  as  keen  a  pang 
as  any  sight  that  he  saw  afterwards  in  that  strange 
dream  of  what  might  come  to  pass.     So  completely  do 


"  WITH  THE  HALT  AND  THE  LAME"  179 

we  share  the  anxiety  of  Scrooge  in  this  respect,  that  we 
can  all  remember  giving  a  sigh  of  relief  when,  at  the  end 
of  the  story,  we  learn  that  the  poor  crippled  boy  remains 
to  bless  the  fireside  where  even  his  afflictions  were  felt 
to  be  a  hallowing  influence  to  soften  animosities,  and  to 
draw  close  the  bonds  of  family  love. 

"Somehow  he  gets  thoughtful,  sitting  by  himself" 
(says  Bob  Cratchit),  "and  thinks  the  strangest  things 
you  ever  heard.  He  told  me,  coming  home,  that  he 
hoped  the  people  saw  him  in  the  church,  because  he  was 
a  cripple,  and  it  might  be  pleasant  to  them  to  remember 
upon  Christmas-day  who  made  lame  beggars  walk  and 
blind  men  see." 

If  I  needed  an  excuse  for  so  long  an  allusion  to  that 
pathetic  story,  which  has  stirred  so  many  hearts  through- 
out England,  I  might  find  it  in  the  passage  I  have  just 
quoted;  but  I  seek  none.  I  refer  to  the  "Christmas 
Carol,"  because  in  it  the  figure  of  the  crippled  boy,  occu- 
pying so  small  a  space,  yet  is  such  a  living,  touching 
influence  as  to  be  one  of  the  household  fancies  that  asso- 
ciate themselves  with  our  thoughts  of  Christmas-tide  in 
poor  homes ;  because  there  are  so  many  little  crutches 
the  sounds  of  which  are  heard — though  fewer  than  there 
used  to  be  before  ortJwpcsdic  surgery  became  a  special 
branch  of  study,  and  hospitals  were  founded  for  its  prac- 
tice ;  because,  though  Tiny  Tim  may  represent  so  many 
crippled  children  who  are  the  helpless  members  of  poor 
families,  where  they  are  tended  with  as  kindly  care  as 
working  fathers  and  mothers  can  find  time  for — there 
are  hundreds  of  other  deformed  or  maimed  lads  whose 
lot  is  made  the  harder  because  of  the  want  of  sympathy 
and  ready  a;d  that  would  lift  them  out  of  utter  helpless- 
ness, or  give  them  such  light  labour  to  perform  as  would 

12 — 2 


180  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS." 

diminish  their  sense  of  dependence.  Finally,  because  I 
desire  you  to  bear  me  company  to  one  place  in  London 
where  this  last  need  is  recognised,  and  where  forty  crip- 
pled boys,  suffering  from  various  incurable  deformities, 
which  yet  have  left  them  the  use  of  their  hands,  are  not 
only  taught  a  trade,  but  are  encouraged,  fed,  and  nur- 
tured for  the  three  years  during  which  they  are  inmates 
of  the  home — "The  National  Industrial  Home  for  Crip- 
pled Boys." 

Alighting  from  the  railway  carriage  which  conveys  us 
from  Mansion  House  Station  to  the  pleasant  old  High 
Street  of  Kensington,  we  are  close  to  the  place  that  we 
have  come  to  see,  for  the  building  itself — a  quaint  old 
house,  with  a  central  doorway  between  two  projecting 
deep  bay-windowed  fronts,  and  built  of  the  reddest  of 
red  brick — stands  at  the  end  of  Wright's  Lane,  looking 
us  full  in  the  face  as  we  approach  it  to  read  the  style  and 
title  plainly  painted  across  its  upper  storey. 

The  house  has  good  reason  for  looking  the  world  thus 
bluffly  in  the  face,  for  it  is  an  independent  building, 
bought  and  paid  for :  hearth-stone,  roof  tree,  and  chim- 
ney, freehold,  and  without  debt  or  mortgage.  Till  this 
was  done,  all  thought  of  considerable  extension  was  put 
aside.  The  question  was  how  to  provide,  out  of  voluntary 
subscriptions  and  contributions,  for  the  fifty  inmates  who 
could  be  admitted  within  those  sheltering  walls.  It  must 
be  premised,  however,  that  ten  pounds  a  year  has  to  be 
paid  for  each  boy  who  is  accepted,  during  the  three  years 
that  he  remains  there,  to  be  taught  in  the  evening  school 
and  in  the  workshop,  not  only  how  to  read  and  write  and 
cipher,  but  to  become  a  good  workman  at  tailoring,  car- 
pentering, or  die-engraving  and  colour-stamping. 

These  are  at  present  the  only  three  trades  taught  in 


"  WITH  THE  HALT  AND  THE  LAME."  181 

this  truly  industrial  home,  but  they  appear  to  be  very 
admirably  suited  to  the  cases  of  those  who  are  deformed 
or  crippled  in  various  ways ;  and  they  are  taught  well,  as 
an  inspection  of  the  work  accomplished  will  prove.  For 
the  workshops  are  real  workshops,  where  the  boys  do  not 
play  at  work,  but  are  taught  their  trades  in  a  way  that  will 
enable  them  when  they  leave  the  institution  to  gain  a  de- 
cent livelihood,  or  even,  if  they  can  save  a  little  money, 
to  go  into  business  for  themselves. 

This  has  been  lately  done,  in  fact,  by  two  youths,  who, 
having  thoroughly  learnt  the  relief-stamping  process,  have 
contrived  to  buy  a  press  and  the  materials  for  their  trade, 
and  are  now  in  partnership  in  a  country  town,  and  earn- 
ing a  respectable  maintenance.  Of  sixteen  lads  who  left 
during  the  year,  twelve  were  doing  well  as  journeymen 
at  the  industries  they  had  learnt ;  one  had  set  up  in  busi- 
ness for  himself  (the  relief-stamping  gives  the  greatest 
facility  for  this) ;  and  two  had  returned  to  their  friends 
because  of  ill  health,  while  one  had  not  reported  himself 
But  during  the  same  period  forty  of  the  former  inmates 
had  been  to  visit  the  old  home,  and  gave  a  very  encourag- 
ing account  of  themselves.  Let  us  add,  in  a  whisper, 
that  amongst  these  visitors  were  a  "  team'''  of  old  boys 
who  had  come  to  accept  the  challenge  of  a  "  team"  of 
the  new  boys,  to  play  a  match  at  cricket.  Yes,  and  that 
these  teams  of  cripples  have,  over  and  over  again,  carried 
off  their  bats  against  opponents  who,  if  they  expected  an 
easy  victory,  found  themselves  to  have  been  most  amaz- 
ingly mistaken.  I  don't  think  this  is  mentioned  in  the 
Report,  but  it  is  well  to  know  it,  because  it  serves  to  prove 
how  truly  beneficent  a  work  is  being  done  here,  in  re- 
moving boys  from  a  too  often  almost  "  hopeless"  condi- 
tion to  one  of  useful,  intelligent,  skilled  labour,  and  to 


182  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:' 

healthy  self-forgetfulness  and  association  in  the  ordinary 
duties  and  recreations  of  their  fellows.  It  must  be  re- 
membered that  every  boy  there  is,  in  a  certain  sense,  in- 
curable. After  having  been  nominated  by  the  person 
willing  to  contribute  the  annual  payment  of  ;£io,  the 
medical  officers  of  the  institution  (or  if  in  the  country, 
some  qualified  practitioner)  examine  the  candidate,  who 
must  be  above  twelve  and  less  than  eighteen  years  of  age, 
and  neither  blind,  deaf  and  dumb,  nor  without  the  use  of 
his  hands.  The  name  of  the  candidate  is  then  added  to 
the  list  of  those  waiting  for  admission — of  whom  there 
are  now,  unfortunately,  above  seventy — and  when  there 
is  a  vacancy,  and  funds  are  sufficient  to  maintain  the  full 
number  of  inmates,  these  candidates  are  taken  in  suc- 
cession, without  voting,  by  order  of  the  Committee  of 
Management,  of  whom  the  President  is  the  Earl  of 
Shaftesbury,  and  the  Honorary  Secretary  Mr.  S.  H. 
Bibby,  of  Green  Street,  Grosvenor  Square.  There  is 
also  an  efficient  Ladies'  Committee  for  the  household 
management  and  for  advising  as  to  the  education  of  the 
boys,  the  visits  of  the  friends  of  the  inmates,  and  the 
domestic  affairs  of  the  Home  generally.  There  are  some 
severe  cases  of  deformity  here — club-foot,  spinal  curva- 
ture, and  various  distortions  of  the  legs — and  in  many 
cases  instruments  are  worn,  but  the  Institution  does  not 
profess  to  provide  these.  Frequently  they  are  procured 
by  special  contributions,  and  among  the  latest  gifts  of 
this  kind  is  a  serviceable  wooden  leg  or  two,  which  have 
had  the  happy  effect  of  relieving  their  recipients  from  the 
necessity  of  using  crutches  ;  but  it  is  distinctly  insisted 
on  that  the  Home  is  not  a  hospital,  and  is  only  curative 
in  the  sense  of  improving  the  condition  of  those  who, 
having  been  pronounced  incurable,  are  yet  capable  of 


"  WITH  THE  HALT  AND  THE  LAME."         1S3 

greatly  increased  activity  and  strength  by  means  of 
nourishing  and  regular  food,  interesting  occupation,  and 
healthy  exercise  with  companions  who  themselves  are  to 
be  numbered  among  the  halt  and  the  lame,  and  yet  are, 
in  a  very  certain  sense,  made  to  walk  and  to  leap  and  to 
praise  God.  For  see,  at  the  very  moment  that  I  am 
speaking,  a  little  figure  darts  out  of  the  passage  yonder 
and  scampers  across  the  large  open  green  space  at  the 
back  of  the  house  on  his  way  to  the  new  range  of  work- 
shops that  are  now  nearly  completed,  and  are  also  paid 
for.  Is  it  possible  to  apply  the  term  cripple  to  such  an 
elf,  who  is  out  of  reach  before  one  can  ask  his  name  ? 
Yes  ;  that  very  elf-like  look  is  the  result  of  a  deformity 
which  stops  growth,  though  it  leaves  the  limbs  as  active  as 
you  see  them.  But  come  up-stairs  to  the  first  of  the 
present  workshops,  and  you  may  note  among  the  colour- 
stampers,  sitting  on  their  high  stools  before  the  dies  and 
presses,  cases  of  more  decided  deformity  or  of  crippling 
by  accident.  These  boys  follow  an  artistic,  pretty  busi- 
ness, and  visitors  may  do  worse  than  give  a  small  or  a 
large  order  for  notepaper  and  envelopes,  stamped  with 
crest,  motto,  or  quaint  design.  So  well  is  the  work  exe- 
cuted, that  the  Home  has  orders  constantly  in  hand  for 
the  trade,  and  some  of  the  dies  are  really  beautiful 
examples  of  engraving.  I  think  that  in  this  long  pleasant 
upper  room,  with  its  high  bench  running  along  the  window, 
fitted  with  the  presses  and  implements  for  the  work,  there 
are  more  severe  cases  of  deformity  than  will  be  seen 
in  either  in  the  tailors'  department  on  the  same  floor  , 
or  the  carpenters'  shop  below.  One  reflects  on  the 
numerous  accidents  to  which  the  children  of  the  poor  are 
liable,  such  as  falls  down  flights  of  stairs  ;  to  the  in- 
human neglect  of  old  wo  men  who  are  paid  as  "minders' 


184  "ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:' 

by  mothers  compelled  to  go  out  to  work  in  neighbour- 
hoods where  no  infant  creche,  no  babies'  cradle  home,  has 
yet  been  established,  or  in  country  towns  where  such  in- 
stitutions have  scarcely  been  heard  of.  One  remembers 
with  pity  the  scores  of  poor  little  creatures  who  have  to 
nurse  and  tend  children  almost  as  big  as  themselves,  so 
that  they  and  their  charges  too  often  become  deformed 
together,  the  nurse  with  lateral  curvature  of  the  spine  and 
the  baby  with  vertical  curvature  or  with  deformities  of 
the  feet  or  legs.  One  thinks,  in  short,  of  the  many  perils 
to  healthy  life  and  well-formed  limb  that  beset  the  child- 
ren of  the  poor,  and  then  coming  back  to  the  figures  of 
this  National  Home,  which  yet,  with  careful  manage- 
ment and  due  economy,  can  only  receive  forty  or  fifty 
crippled  boys — wonders  how  long  it  is  to  be  before  the 
ruddy  old  house  in  Wright's  Lane  will  expand  its  broad 
bosom  and  stretch  out  long  arms  on  either  side  to  embrace 
three-score  more  lads,  taken  from  present  neglect  and 
want  and  probable  ill-usage,  to  be  fed  and  taught  and  nur- 
tured for  three  years,  during  which  the  whole  future  will  be 
changed  for  them,  and  their  lives  redeemed  from  the  de- 
gradation that  had  threatened  them  just  as  their  bodies 
expand  with  renewed  health  and  strange  developments  of 
unsuspected  strength,'and  their  souls  are  lighted  with  hope 
and  the  sympathy  of  loving  words  and  hearty  manly  en- 
couragement. 

Abeginning  has  been  made  already;  for  that  munificent 
anonymous  benefactor,  whose  thousand-pound  cheques 
have  helped  so  many  of  our  deserving  charities,  showed 
his  usual  nice  discrimination  by  taking  a  walk  in  the  di- 
rection of  Wright's  Lane.  The  result  of  this  has  been 
the  erection  of  those  long  workshops  which  extend  across 
one  side   of  the   wide   green  area,  with  its  ornamental 


"  WITH  THE  HALT  AND  THE  LAME."  185 

trees,  at  the  back  of  the  building — an  area  which  is 
a  good  part  of  the  acre  on  which  the  property  stands, 
and  forms  a  capital  recreation-ground,  without  quite 
leaving  out  of  sight  the  pleasant  kitchen-garden  be- 
yond, or  the  little  building  in  the  further  corner,  which 
is  intended  as  a  cottage- infirmary  in  cases  of  sickness. 
There  are  the  workshops,  quite  ready  for  another  con- 
tingent of  lads,  such  as  are  now  busily  at  work  in  the 
tailoring  department,  where  they  are  sitting  on  the  board 
in  the  proper  tailor-fashion,  sewing  away  at  one  or  other 
of  the  many  private  orders  for  gentlemen's  clothes,  or 
"juvenile  suits,"  which  are  the  better  appreciated  because 
they  are  hand-sewn,  instead  of  being  made  with  that 
machine,  at  the  end  of  the  room,  to  learn  the  working  of 
which  is,  however,  a  necessary  part  of  the  modern  tailor's 
trade.  Quite  ready,  also,  for  our  friends  the  relief-stampers, 
and  for  an  additional  crew  of  young  carpenters  to  join 
those  who  are  now  busy  below  amidst  a  fine  odour  of 
fresh  deal  and  the  cheery  sound  of  hammer,  chisel,  and 
plane.  One  of  our  young  friends  of  the  wooden  legs — - 
a  strapping  fellow  of  seventeen — is  just  deftly  finishing 
off  a  very  attractive  chest  of  drawers,  which  will  only 
need  to  be  taken  to  the  painting  and  varnishing  rooms 
that  form  a  part  of  the  new  building  to  be  a  very 
capital  example  of  the  workmanship  of  the  establish- 
ment. For  it  cannot  be  too  strongly  insisted  on  that  the 
customers  of  the  Industrial  Cripples  get  value  for  their 
money,  whether  it  be  in  ornamental  stationery,  in  plain 
furniture,  packing  cases,  boxes,  and  general  carpentry,  or 
in  "  superfine  suits"  to  order,  or  "own  materials  made  up 
and  repairs  neatly  executed."  It  is  no  sham  industrial 
school,  but  a  real  practical  working  establishment,  and 
when  the  new  buildings  are  quite  completed,  and  the 


iS6  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

dwelling-house  has  that  other  wing  added  to  it,  in  order 
to  provide  proper  dormitories  and  a  school-room,  dining- 
room,  and  lavatory,   at  all  in  proportion  to  the  number 

of  boys  who  are  waiting  anxiously  for  admission 

Ah !  but  the  question  is,  When  shall  this  be  ?  Not 
till  another  £5,000  is  added  to  the  funds,  I  am  told — 
about  as  much  money  as  is  sometimes  spent  in  some 
public  display  which  lasts  three  or  four  hours,  and  going 
to  look  at  which  probably  half  a  dozen  men,  women,  or 
children  are  lamed  and  crippled  in  the  crowd.  Judging 
from  the  present  arrangements,  with  very  little  room  to 
spare,  and  a  not  very  conveniently-adaptable  space,  the 
money  would  be  carefully  spent ;  for  there  is  no  tendency 
to  undue  luxury,  and  the  present  household  staff  would 
still  be  sufficient  for  providing  meals  and  looking  after 
the  family  needs  of  these  robust  and  independent  young 
cripples.  That  it  would  be  a  work  all  the  more  bene- 
ficial, because  of  this  very  independence  with  which  it  is 
associated,  it  needs  few  arguments  to  prove ;  but, 
should  reasons  be  asked  for,  let  us  take  three  cases  for 
which  the  benefits  of  the  Home  are  earnestly  sought, 
and  they  will  speak  in  suggestive  accents  of  the  need  of 
that  extension  for  which  an  appeal  is  being  made.  I 
need  not  tell  you  the  names  either  of  those  who  nominate 
the  cases  or  the  boys  themselves ;  but  be  assured  that 
the  former  would  be  sufficient  guarantee  of  the  need  which 
it  is  sought  to  relieve  : — 

No.  1.— "The  father  is  paralysed,  and  can  do  no  work.  The 
mother  is  not  a  very  satisfactory  person.     Family  consist  of— 

1.  The  eldest,  a  boy  of  twenty,  who  does  odd  jobs. 

2.  The  cripple. 

3.  Boy,  works,  and  gets  5s. 

4.  Boy,  sells  lights  in  the  City. 

There  are  four  little  girls  at  home  besides. 


"  WITH  THE  HALT  AND  THE  LAME."  1S7 

The  cripple  is  in  a  very  wretched  state  from  want  of  food,  but  he 
has  the  use  of  his  hands." 

No.  2  (Edinburgh). — "  Was  never  at  school  more  than  a  year 
in  his  life,  and  never  attended  regularly  two  months  together.  He 
can  neither  read  nor  write,  and  has  been  neglected  and  often  half- 
starved  by  his  dissipated  parents.  His  mother  pawns  everything 
she  can  get  to  buy  drink,  and  the  boy  has  little  benefit  from  the 
wages  he  makes,  which  are  about  5s.  per  week.  Their  house  is 
miserably  dirty,  Mrs. (the  mother)  being  always  drunk  or  in- 
capable on  the  Saturday  and  Sunday.     The  boy  works  at  Mr. 

B 's   Pottery,   P .     He   is  honest  and  industrious.     He  is 

more  miserable  at  home  of  late  since  he  is  left  alone  with  his  mother. 
It  would  be  a  great  advantage  to  the  boy  if  he  could  be  admitted  to 
the  Industrial  Home  at  Kensington,  where  he  would  be  well  trained,, 
and  where  he  would  be  quite  beyond  his  mother's  reach." 

No.  3  (recommended  by  a  Clergyman). — "  Has  been  very  regular 
at  our  school,  and  has  been  attentive  and  got  on  very  well.  His 
mother,  a  widow,  lives  with  her  sons,  all  of  whom  she  has  brought 
up  well.  She  is  an  industrious,  honest  woman,  and  receives  no  help 
from  the  Board  of  Guardians  excepting  an  allowance  made  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  cripple,  and  which,  in  case  of  his  being  accepted 
at  the  Home,  they  have  promised  to  continue  to  pay  for  his  main- 
tenance. I  may  add  that  the  Board,  when  he  was  called  before  them 
the  other  day,  gave  great  praise  to  his  mother  for  the  cleanliness  and 
respectability  of  his  appearance." 

Poor,  depressed,  starved,  neglected,  hopeless  crippled 
boys,  how  long  will  it  be  before  they  come  here  for 
shelter,  for  hope,  and  renewal  of  life  ?  I  should  ask  the 
question — though  the  answer  could  only  be  a  guess — but 
I  am  suddenly  diverted  by  the  tremendous  ringing  of  a 
hand-bell,  on  which  one  vigorous  young  cripple  is  ringing 
a  peal,  which  is  almost  loud  enough  to  announce  to  all 
Kensington  that  it  is  "tea-time."  The  sound  has  the 
effect  of  bringing  all  the  forty  from  their  work — a  con- 
tingent of  young  carpenters  staying  behind  for  a  little 
while  to  dispose  of  some  waste  shavings  which  have  been 
swept  out  of  some  corner  where  they  may  have  been  in 


1 88  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:7 

the  way.  Then  they  come  trooping  into  the  big  room, 
where  they  present  so  strange  a  variety  of  height  and 
appearance,  and  also  so  remarkable  a  diversity  of  twist 
and  lameness  and  distortion,  that  we  are  impressed  at 
once  with  the  melancholy  fact  that  every  boy  there  is  in 
reality  a  cripple,  and  yet  with  the  cheering  reflection,  in- 
spired by  some  of  the  lively  smiling  faces,  that  there  are 
vast  mitigations  of  such  afflictions — mitigations  that  come 
so  near  to  cures  as  to  make  our  neglect  of  them  a  very 
serious  evil,  when  the  means  lie  near  at  hand. 

In  this  big  room,  which  is  neither  dining-room,  nor 
kitchen,  nor  refectory,  but  a  homely  combination  of  all 
three,  there  is  no  ornament,  no  sign  of  luxury,  or  of  un- 
necessary expenditure — plain  deal  forms  or  stools  at 
plain  deal  tables,  on  which  are  arranged  a  regiment  of 
full-sized  mugs  of  good  sound  tea,  and  plates,  each  con- 
taining a  substantial  half-pound  slice  of  bread  from  a 
homely  two-pound  loaf,  spread  with  butter  or  dripping. 
For  breakfast  the  same  quantity  is  provided,  with  the 
substitution  of  coffee  for  tea ;  and  dinner  consists  of  a 
half-pound  of  roast  or  boiled  meat,  with  plenty  of  vege- 
tables, and  dumplings,  pies,  or  puddings ;  while  bread 
and  cheese,  or  bread  and  butter,  is  served  for  supper. 
For  it  must  be  remembered  that  these  are  working  lads, 
and  that  they  require  to  be  substantially,  and,  from  the 
nature  of  their  bodily  affliction,  even  generously  fed,  so 
that  these  supplies  of  pure  plain  diet  are  not  by  any 
means  excessive  ;  and  they  are  such  as  one  very  ordinary 
kitchen  can  supply — a  kitchen,  by  the  bye,  which  will 
probably  be  superseded  by  a  more  convenient  one  when 
the  new  wing  shall  be  finished.  Yet  there  is  something  in 
these  unadorned,  bare,  almost  too  plainly  appointed 
places,  which  brings  with  it  a  reassuring  conviction  that 


"  WITH  THE  HALT  AND   THE  LAME?  189 

the  institution  has  never  been  pampered.  The  dining- 
room,  which  has  to  do  duty  for  a  school-room  also — the 
play-room,  which  is  a  rather  dim  kind  of  retreat  on  this 
November  evening — and  the  plain,  rather  bare,  but  still 
clean  and  airy  dormitories  (especially  those  in  the  big  bay- 
windowed  front  rooms  of  the  old  red  brick  house),  are 
evidences  that  the  place  does  not  belie  its  name ;  that 
it  is  really  a  home,  but  essentially  an  industrial  home, 
where  work  goes  on  as  part  of  each  day's  blessing,  and 
the  title  to  play  freely  and  with  a  light  heart  is  thereby 
ensured. 


WITH  THEM  WHO  HA  VE  NOT   WHERE  TO  LAY 
THEIR  HEADS. 

HERE  is  a  degree  of  poverty  which,  while  it  is 
not  absolute  pauperism,  often  has  deeper  needs 
than  those  which  are  alleviated  by  parochial 
relief — a  destitution  which  is  none  the  less 
bitter  because  those  who  suffer  it  cannot  stoop  to  actual 
mendicancy,  and  shrink  from  the  degradation  of  the 
casual  ward  and  its  contaminating  influences. 

Those  of  us  who  at  this  season  of  the  year  are  surrounded 
with  comforts,  and  can  meet  together  to  enjoy  them, 
should  feel  that  there  is  no  sadder  phase  of  the  life  of 
this  great  city  than  that  to  which  our  attention  is  called 
by  the  statistics  of  those  same  casual  wards,  and  the  ac- 
companying certainty  that  every  night  there  are  men, 
women,  and  children,  who,  amidst  surrounding  luxury 
and  splendour,  have  not  where  to  lay  their  heads,  and  for 
whom  the  repellent  door  of  the  nearest  union  workhouse 
is  closed,  even  if  they  could  summon  such  courage  as 
comes  of  desperation,  and  dared  to  enter. 

Happily,  the  numbers  of  those  who  seek  what  is  called 
casual  relief  have  diminished  in  proportion  to  the  general 
abatement  of  pauperism  ;  and  it  is  perhaps  encouraging 
to  know  that  the  applicants  for  nightly  shelter  at  Refuges 


NOT  WHERE  TO  LAY  THEIR  HEADS.  191 

for  the  homeless  and  destitute  are  fewer  than  they  were 
three  or  fouryears  ago.  This  is  a  fact  which  should  be  made 
public,  because  some  of  these  Refuges  have  been  accused 
of  offering  inducements  to  casual  paupers  to  seek  food 
and  shelter  provided  by  charitable  subscriptions,  instead 
of  betaking  themselves  to  the  night-wards  provided 
for  them  at  metropolitan  workhouses.  The  complaint 
was  made  on  altogether  insufficient  grounds,  at  a  time 
when,  during  a  hard  winter,  and  with  a  fearful  amount 
of  distress  among  the  poorest  class  of  the  community,  the 
workhouse  night-wards  themselves  were  frequently  inade- 
quate to  the  demands  made  upon  them  ;  while,  apart 
from  the  persons  who  were  known  as  casual  paupers, 
there  were  hundreds  of  unfortunates  suffering  from 
temporary  starvation  and  the  want  of  a  place  in  which  to 
find  a  night's  lodging,  who  yet  were  altogether  removed 
from  what  is  known  as  pauperism,  and  dreaded  the 
abject  hopelessness  which  they  associated  with  "the 
Union." 

It  should  not  be  forgotten,  either,  that  the  task  which 
is,  and  was  then,  imposed  upon  the  pauper  on  the  morning 
following  his  night's  lodging  and  its  previous  dole  of 
gruel  and  bread,  renders  it  almost  impossible  for  the 
recipient  to  obtain  work.  Before  his  job  of  stone-breaking 
or  oakum-picking  is  accomplished,  the  hour  for  com- 
mencing ordinary  labour  outside  the  workhouse  walls  has 
passed,  and  his  hope  of  resuming  independent  employ- 
ment, and  the  wages  that  will  provide  food  and  lodging 
for  the  next  four-and-twenty  hours,  has  passed  also. 
This  alone  is  always  sufficient  to  make  a  very  marked 
distinction  between  the  regular  casual  pauper  and  the 
temporarily  unfortunate  man  or  woman  who,  having 
failed  to  get  work,  and  seeking  only  the  aid  that  may 


j 92  WITH  THEM  WHO  HAVE 

give  rest  and  strength  for  a  renewed  effort,  might  look 
in  vain  for  succour  but  for  the  existence  of  places  like 
that  admirable  Institution  to  which  I  wish  to  take  you 
to-night. 

The  shameful  spectacle  of  groups,  and,  in  many- 
instances,  of  crowds,  of  houseless,  starving,  and  half- 
naked  creatures  huddled  about  the  doors  of  casual  wards, 
to  which  they  had  been  refused  admission  in  direct 
defiance  of  legislation,  led  to  the  establishment  of  Night 
Refuges.  There  was  then  no  time  to  dispute.  While 
boards  and  committees  were  squabbling  and  vilifying 
each  other,  the  poor  were  perishing.  But  even  now  that 
abettersystem prevails,  and  pauperismhas  so  considerably 
diminished,  there  is  much  necessity  for  the  continuance  of 
these  institutions  and  their  adaptation  to  the  relief  of  that 
kind  of  distress  which  is  all  the  more  poignant  because 
it  is  at  present  only  temporary,  but  would  receive  the 
brand  and  stamp  of  permanence  if  it  could  find  no  other 
mitigation  than  that  secured  by  an  appeal  to  workhouse 
officials,  the  shelter  of  the  casual  shed,  the  union  dole, 
and  the  daily  task  required  in  return. 

At  the  time  that  Night  Refuges  were  first  founded,  in 
consequence  of  the  failure  of  the  Houseless  Poor  Act, 
there  were  one  or  two  institutions  which  went  on  the  plan 
of  offering  no  inducement  whatever  to  those  who  sought 
shelter  within  their  walls.  The  provisions  were  barer, 
the  beds  harder,  the  reception  little  less  cold  and  un- 
sympathetic than  they  would  receive  at  any  metropolitan 
union. 

Those  of  my  readers  who  remember  the  Refuge  for  the 
Houseless  Poor  which  once  stood  in  Playhouse  Yard, 
close  to  that  foul  tangle  of  courts  that  still  exists 
between  Barbican  and  St.  Luke's,  and  is  known  as  "  The 


I 


NOT  WHERE  TO  LAY  THEIR  HEADS.  193 

Chequers,"  will  understand  me  when  I  say  that  there  were 
no  alluring  inducements  for  the  houseless  and  the  desti- 
tute to  seek  its  aid. 

I  have  seldom  seen  a  more  painfully  suggestive  crowd 
than  that  which  waited  outside  the  blank  door  of  that 
hideous  building  on  a  cold  drizzly  evening  when  I  paid  the 
place  a  visit,  only  a  short  time  before  it  was  finally  closed. 
I  cannot  deny,  however,  that  the  applicants  for  admission 
consisted  of  those  persons  for  whom  the  institution 
seemed  to  be  especially  designed.  The  very  lowest  class 
of  poverty,  the  representatives  of  sheer  destitution,  made 
up  the  350  men  and  the  150  women  who  were  to  occupy 
the  bare  wooden  bunks  in  the  two  departments  of  the 
building  that  night,  and  to  accept,  as  a  stay  against 
starvation,  the  half-pound  of  dry  bread  and  the  drink  of 
water.  What  I  would  call  emphatic  attention  to,  is  the 
fact  that  this  place  was  filled  nightly  at  that  time, 
because  the  inmates  could  leave  early  in  the  morning  to 
seek  a  day's  work,  and  so  rise  out  of  that  depth  of  desti- 
tution which  was  represented  by  the  nightly  return  to  the 
casual  ward.  But  let  us  remember  that,  though  this 
Institution  could  scarcely  be  characterised  by  the  warm 
name  of  "  charity,"  it  received  all  applicants  who  were 
not  suffering  from  infectious  diseases,  and  therefore  its 
policy  was  deterrent.  In  order  to  separate  itself  from 
the  idle  casual,  it  made  its  provisions  little  short  of  penal, 
and,  indeed,  very  far  short  of  those  common  comforts  that 
are  to  be  found  in  prison. 

But  the  Refuge  in  Newport  Market  was  one  of  those 
which  had  been  founded  on  a  different  principle.  It  was 
never  intended  as  a  supplement  to  the  casual  ward,  or  as 
having  any  relation  to  poor-law  relief:  though,  during 
the  terrible  distress  that  overtook  the  houseless  in  that 

13 


i94  WITH  THEM  WHO  HAVE 

severe  winter  when  our  poor-law  arrangements  broke 
down  utterly,  it  was  impossible  for  any  place  founded  in 
the  name  of  Christian  love  and  charity  to  be  very  par- 
ticular in  excluding  famishing  and  frozen  men  and  women 
on  the  suspicion  that  they  had  already  somehow  obtained 
parochial  relief  the  night  before. 

This  "  Refuge  "  was  originally  established  by  the  in- 
fluence and  the  personal  exertions  of  Mrs.  Gladstone,  and 
a  few  ladies  and  gentlemen  who,  knowing  of  the  extreme 
distress  that  prevailed  in  all  that  poverty-stricken  neigh- 
hourhood  about  Seven  Dials,  around  the  alien-haunted 
district  of  Soho,  and  in  the  purlieux  of  Drury  Lane,  and 
the  courts  of  Long  Acre,  set  about  providing  some 
remedy  for  the  misery  that  homeless,  destitute  men, 
women,  and  children  had  to  suffer  during  the  bitter 
nights  of  winter.  First,  a  regular  mission  was  established 
in  an  ordinary  room,  and,  after  a  time,  space  was  secured 
to  make  a  Refuge — first  for  six,  then  for  ten,  and  after- 
wards for  twenty  of  the  most  destitute  cases  which  came 
under  the  notice  of  the  mission-woman.  This  went  on 
till  the  funds  were  sufficient  to  warrant  a  very  earnest 
desire  to  obtain  larger  premises,  and  at  last  to  make  a 
bid  for  that  queer  ramshackle  old  slaughter-house,  which 
was  the  rather  too  indicative  feature  of  the  locality.  The 
landlords  of  this  place  were  fully  alive  to  the  value  of 
any  property  rising  in  proportion  to  the  anxiety  of  some- 
body to  become  its  tenant,  and  they  demanded  a  high 
rent  accordingly.  Still,  the  work  had  to  be  done,  and 
the  slaughter-house— cleansed,  repaired,  whitewashed, 
and  divided  into  several  queer,  irregular- shaped  wards 
and  rooms,  which  were  reached  by  strange  flights  of 
steps  and  zig-zag  entries — was  opened  with  cheerful  con- 
fidence and  hope,  under  the  earnest  superintendence  of 


NOT  WHERE  TO  LAY  THEIR  HEADS.  195 

the  Rev.  J.  Williams,  who  was  at  that  time  incumbent  of 
the  parish  of  St.  Mary,  Soho.  It  was  at  that  period  that 
I  first  made  acquaintance  with  the  Institution,  and  with 
the  quiet,  undemonstrative  work  of  charity  which  was 
carried  on  there,  and  is  continued  to  this  day,  though  it 
is  less  arduous  now  that  the  neighbourhood  itself  has  felt 
the  influence  of  such  an  organization — not  so  much  in 
the  diminution  of  actual  poverty,  as  in  the  humanising 
and  constantly  suggestive  presence  of  men  and  women 
who  have  brought  a  gospel  to  those  who  were  hopeless, 
and  seemed  to  have  none  to  care  for  them. 

The  need  to  receive  numbers  every  night  to  the  utmost 
limits  of  the  Institution  has  passed  now,  except  occasion- 
ally during  very  severe  weather ;  and  though  the  cases 
admitted  are  still  those  where  deep,  and  sometimes  ap- 
parently almost  fatal,  misfortune  is  the  claim,  there  is  no 
longer  the  urgency  which  forbade  a  too  discriminating 
selection,  and  the  regular  casual  stands  no  chance  under 
the  quick  and  experienced  eye  of  the  superintendent, 
Mr.  Ramsden,  whose  military  tone  and  manner  are, 
by  the  way,  modulated  so  as  to  carry  the  sense  of  detec- 
tion to  the  pretender,  and  to  support  and  give  courage 
to  the  weak  and  faint-hearted. 

The  same  complete,  quiet  method  of  receiving  appli- 
cants who  await  admission  enables  me  to  repeat  the 
impression  which  I  received  during  the  time  that  the 
demands  upon  the  night  Refuge  were  more  urgent.  The 
experienced  visitor  who  stands  at  the  gate  of  this  rehabili- 
tated building  that  was  once  the  old  slaughter-house,  and 
who  watches  the  people  go  in  one  by  one,  and  listens  to 
their  low-voiced  pleas  for  food  and  shelter,  cannot  mis- 
take them  for  casual  ward  cases.  Just  as,  in  some  other 
Institutions,  the  pain  of  the  spectacle  is  the  degraded 

13—2 


196  WITH  THEM  WHO  HAVE 

poverty  of  those  who  seek  aid,  the  most  affecting  ele- 
ment here  is  utter  destitution,  without  that  accustomed 
debasement  which  would  find  a  fitting  resource  at  the 
workhouse  door,  leading  to  the  night  shed. 

These  are  broken-down  men  and  women ;  old  men 
beaten  in  the  battle  of  life,  and  full  of  present  sorrow ; 
young  men  who  have  fought  and  failed,  or  who  have 
eaten  of  the  husks,  and  seek  occasion  to  rise  to  a  better 
mind;  middle-aged  men  not  altogether  crushed  or  hope- 
less, but  in  sore  want,  and  needing  the  sound  of  a  kindly 
voice,  the  touch  of  a  friendly  hand;  women  who  have 
lost  youth  and  worldly  hope  together — women  who, 
more  weak  than  wicked,  and  without  resource,  need  some 
stay  alike  for  fainting  bodies  and  for  wandering  souls ; 
women  worn  and  hungry,  because  of  the  lack  even  of  ill- 
paid  work,  and  asking  for  rest  and  food  till  they  can  seek 
employment :  some  who  will  go  forth  in  the  morning  and 
set  out  afresh ;  others  who,  if  they  can  secure  two  or 
three  nights'  lodging,  with  a  mouthful  of  food  and  drink 
morning  and  evening,  have  a  good  hope  of  doing  better 
in  the  future. 

To.  those  who  know  how  the  demand  for  certain  kinds 
of  labour  varies,  and  frequently  slackens  towards  the 
winter  months,  when  need  is  sorest,  this  latter  most  mer- 
ciful provision  comes  with  a  sense  of  truest  charity. 
Tickets  of  admission  are  issued  to  friends  and  visitors  of 
the  Institution  (and  any  one  may  be  a  visitor  who  chooses 
to  ring  at  the  bell  of  the  old  slaughter-house),  entitling 
the  holder  to  admission  after  the  regular  evening  hour  of 
half-past  five  to  six,  so  that  in  bestowing  one  of  these 
the  judicious  subscriber  (not  necessarily,  but  surely  from 
sympathy  a  subscriber)  can  [be  a  true  benefactor.  For 
these  tickets  will  admit  the  really  deserving  nightly  for  a 


NOT  WHERE  TO  LAY  THEIR  HEADS.  197 

week,  with  supper  of  bread  andxoffee  or  cocoa,  or  occa- 
sional savoury  soup,  and  breakfast  of  bread  and  coffee. 
And  even  this  time  is  occasionally  extended,  if  there  be 
a  reasonable  prospect  of  obtaining  work.  Not  only 
ticket-holders,  but  every  applicant,  may  have  the  same 
privilege,  if  it  can  be  shown  that  he  or  she  is  really  likely 
to  obtain  employment.  But  there  is  more  than  this. 
There  are  men  here — truest  of  gentlemen,  beyond  that 
social  stamp  of  rank  which  rightfully  belongs  to  them — 
who,  with  a  real,  manly  instinct,  know  how  to  take 
poverty  by  the  hand  without  offensive  patronage  or  un- 
timely preaching.  There  are  ladies  who,  in  their  true 
womanhood,  can  see  the  contrition  in  faces  bowed  down 
— the  shame  that  is  caused,  not  by  evil  doings,  but  by 
the  feeling  of  dismay  which  comes  of  having  to  ask  for 
charity  —  can  sympathise  with  broken  fortunes,  with 
gentle  nurture — cast  upon  a  hard,  relentless  world,  with 
that  poverty  which  is  "  above  the  common." 

More  still.  Among  the  supporters  and  the  constant 
visitors  are  those  who  can  use  special  influence  for  cases 
that  need  it  most,  and  obtain  for  them  admission  to 
hospitals  and  other  asylums,  or  introduce  to  situations 
those  who  by  sudden  calamity  have  been  deprived  of  the 
means  of  living. 

Yes,  even  in  their  deepest  need,  poor,  wandering,  home- 
less women  may  come  here  and  find  help,  for  in  that 
large,  lofty,  yet  warm  and  well-lighted  room,  the  women's 
dormitory — one  side  of  which  is  composed  of  a  series  of 
niches  where  the  comfortable  beds  are  placed — there  are 
to  be  seen  a  row  of  doors,  which  seem  to  belong  to  a 
series  of  cabins,  as,  indeed,  they  do.  Each  door  opens 
into  a  small  bed-room — small,  but  with  room  for  a  chair, 
a  tiny  table,  and  the  neat  bed.     They  are  the  lodgings 


198  WITH  THEM  WHO  HAVE 

set  apart  for  women,  who,  in  the  midst  of  their  poverty 
and  destitution,  are  looking  forward  fearfully  to  the  time 
when  children  will  be  born  to  them,  and  so  to  a  period 
of  weakness,  and  of  the  sad  mingling  of  maternal  pity 
and  desponding  sorrow  Let  me  say,  in  one  line  from  the 
Report,  that  last  year  eight  young  women  were  received 
into  the  Refuge  some  time  before  their  confinement,  were 
passed  on  to  Queen  Charlotte's  Hospital,  and  were  helped 
until  such  time  as  they  were  able  to  help  themselves. 

I  think  the  knowledge  of  this  is  so  cheerful  an  instance 
of  the  value  of  this  most  representative  Refuge,  that  even 
the  sight  of  the  bright,  warm,  glowing  kitchen,  with  its 
great  boiler  of  hot  coffee,  and  its  noble  kettle  of  soup 
occupying  the  jolly  range,  scarcely  imparts  an  extra 
beam  to  the  picture;  while  the  long  rows  of  white  mugs, 
the  pleasant,  clean,  fragrant  loaves,  the  big  milk-cans, 
the  courteous  chef,  who  has  a  true  and  pardonable  pride 
in  his  surroundings — no,  not  even  the  cosy,  rug-covered 
berths  and  bunks  in  the  dormitories,  nor  the  quaint  little 
corner-room  to  which  I  have  to  climb  a  crooked  staircase 
to  shake  hands  with  the  sister  who  is  in  charge,  nor  the 
equally  quaint  and  corner}',  not  to  say  inconvenient, 
sitting-room  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ramsden,  who  have  left  their 
tea  unfinished  to  do  the  honours  of  the  Institution — can 
suggest  to  me  a  better  word  to  say  than  that  which  is  sug- 
gested by  the  picture  of  the  poor  wandering,  wear}',  fainting 
women,  who,  almost  in  despair,  not  only  for  a  real,  but 
for  an  expected  life,  come  here  to  find  rest  and  peace. 

Stay ;  one  word  more.  Who  are  the  class  of  people 
for  whom  the  Refuge  doors  are  ordinarily  open  ?  Let 
us  see  what  were  the  most  numerous  cases  among  the  in- 
mates who  during  the  year  received  6,669  nights'  lodgings, 
and  16,889  suppers  and  breakfasts.      Among  the  men. 


NOT  WHERE  TO  LAY  THEIR  HEADS.  199 

"labourers,"  of  course,  are  most  numerous;  then  dis- 
charged soldiers — poor  fellows  who  have  perhaps  fool- 
ishly snatched  at  liberty  when  offered,  and  foregone  the 
advantages  of  re-engagement  and  a  pension ;  next  in 
numerical  order  come  clerks — a  very  painfully  suggestive 
fact,  especially  when  read  by  the  light  of  the  advertise- 
ment-columns of  our  newspapers,  and  the  sad  story  of 
genteel  poverty  in  that  great  suburban  ring  which  encir- 
cles the  wealthiest  city  in  the  world.  Of  house-painters 
there  were  24;  of  servants,  21;  of  tailors,  13  ;  of  seamen, 
8 ;  and  other  callings  were  represented  in  remarkable 
variety,  including  1  actor,  6  cooks,  1  schoolmaster,  2  sur- 
veyors, and  1  tutor.  Among  the  women,  199  servants — 
show  sadly  enough  the  truth  of  the  old  adage,  "  Service 
is  no  inheritance ;"  while  in  numerical  succession  there 
were,  55  charwomen,  41  laundresses,  37  needlewomen, 
31  tailoresses,  27  dressmakers,  26  machinists  (alas!  how 
many  women  still  utterly  depend  on  "the  needle  "  for  a 
subsistence  !),  24  cooks,  20  ironers,  16  field-labourers. 
There  were  4  governesses,  1  actress,  1  mission-woman, 
and  1  staymaker,  the  rest  being  variously  described. 

From  among  these,  94  men  and  193  women  obtained 
employment,  JJ  women  having  been  sent  to  Peniten- 
tiaries and  Homes,  while  18  were  supported  in  the 
Refuge  or  elsewhere  by  needlework,  13  were  sent  to 
their  friends,  60  obtained  permanent  work,  and  14  girls 
of  good  character  were  sent  to  Servants'  Homes. 

But  I  have  left  out  one  thing  now.  Among  this  great 
representative  company  of  refugees  were  60  children, 
of  whom  37  were  sent  to  nurse  or  to  school,  while  those 

who  were  old  enough Well,  just  listen  to  that 

burst  of  military  music  in  a  distant  upper-room  of  the 
old  slaughter-house.  I  must  tell  you  something  about 
the  Newport  Market  boys  in  another  chapter. 


TAKING  IN  STRANGERS. 

ES  ;  listen  to  that  startling  clangour  of  military 
music  coming  from  an  upper  room.  We  are 
standing,  you  know,  in  the  cheerful  kitchen 
of  that  Refuge  for  the  Homeless  in  the  reno- 
vated old  slaughter-house  in  Newport  Market,  and  I 
want  you  to  come  with  me  to  see  the  boys'  school,  which 
occupies  a  very  considerable  portion  of  that  weatherproof 
but  ramshackle  building. 

Only  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  poverty  and 
the  crime  of  this  great  metropolis  can  estimate  the  deep 
and  urgent  need  that  still  exists  for  refuges  in  which 
homeless,  destitute,  and  neglected  children  can  be  received 
for  shelter,  food,  and  clothing.  Only  the  practical 
student  of  the  effect  of  our  present  administration  of  the 
Education  Act  can  calculate  how  vast  a  necessity  is  likely 
to  exist  for  the  reception  and  instruction  of  the  children 
of  the  poorest,  even  when  all  the  machinery  of  the  present 
School  Board  is  put  in  motion  for  vindicating  the  compul- 
sory clause. 

Let  that  clause  be  interpreted  in  the  most  liberal 
manner — which  would  be  in  effect  to  provide  State 
education  without  cost  to  the  parents — and  the  Act  will 
still  leave  untouched  a  vast  number  of  children  for  whom 


TAKING  IN  STRANGERS.  201 

nothing  can  be  done  until  their  physical  necessities  are 
provided  for  —  children  who  are  perishing  with  cold, 
starving  for  want  of  food.  A  visit  to  some  of  the  big 
buildings  recently  erected  by  the  London  School  Board 
will  reveal  the  fact  that  there  are  many  such  children 
now  in  attendance ;  neglected,  barefoot,  half-clothed, 
hungry,  and  with  that  wistful  eager  look,  sometimes 
followed  by  a  kind  of  stupefaction,  which  may  be 
observed  in  the  poor  little  outcasts  of  the  streets.  There 
is  no  reasonable  hope  of  doing  much  with  these  little 
creatures  till  the  "  soup-kitchen "  and  the  "free  break- 
fast" are  among  the  appliances  of  education,  where  the 
necessity  is  most  pressing,  and  the  children  perish  for 
lack  of  bread  as  well  as  for  lack  of  knowledge. 

As  it  is — I  need  not  refer  again  to  the  escape  which  is 
always  open  from  the  streets  to  the  prison.  The  few 
Government  industrial-schools  to  which  magistrates 
occasionally  consign  young  culprits  brought  before  them 
are  intended  only  for  those  who  come  within  the  cogni- 
sance of  the  law. 

The  operations  of  these  reformatory-schools  are  suc- 
cessful so  far  as  they  go.  They  represent  seventy-five 
per  cent,  of  successful  reformatory  training  as  applied  to 
juvenile  transgressors  committed  by  magistrates  to  their 
supervision. 

Perhaps,  when  we  are  fully  impressed  with  the  mean- 
ing of  the  statistics  which  are  published  each  year  in 
the  Report  of  the  Inspectors  of  Certified  Schools  in  Great 
Britain,  we  shall  begin  to  consider  how  it  will  be  possible 
to  regard  destitute  children  in  relation  to  the  guardian- 
ship of  the  state  before  they  qualify  themselves  for 
Government  interposition  by  the  expedient  of  committing 
what  the  law  calls  a  crime. 


202  «  ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS? 

The  last  Report  states  distinctly  that  the  sooner  crimi- 
nal children  are  taken  in  hand,  the  more  complete  is  their 
reformation.  There  are  fewer  "  criminals "  of  less 
than  ten  years  of  age  than  there  are  hardened  offenders 
of  from  twelve  to  sixteen.  This  is,  so  far,  satisfactory  ; 
but  when  we  consider  that  (including  Roman  Catholic 
establishments)  there  are  but  fifty-three  reformatories  in 
England,  and  twelve  in  Scotland  (thirty-seven  of  those 
in  England  and  eight  in  Scotland  being  for  boys,  and 
sixteen  in  England  and  four  in  Scotland  for  girls),  and 
that  in  1873,  when  the  Report  was  issued,  the  sum-total 
of  children  in  all  these  institutions  was  but  5,622,  of 
whom  one-fourth  were  in  the  Roman  Catholic  schools — 
we  cease  to  wonder  at  the  vast  number  of  homeless, 
neglected,  and  destitute  children  in  London  alone — a 
number  which,  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  philanthropy 
and  the  activity  of  School  Board  beadles,  exceeds  the 
total  of  all  the  inmates  of  the  State  reformatories 
throughout  the  kingdom. 

This  refuge  at  Newport  Market  had  included  destitute 
and  starving  boys  among  those  who  were  brought  to  its 
shelter  from  the  cruel  streets,  the  dark  arches  of  railways 
and  of  bridges,  and  the  miserable  corners  where  the 
houseless  huddle  together  at  night,  long  before  its  sup- 
porters could  make  provision  for  maintaining  any  of  the 
poor  little  fellows  in  an  industrial-school.  But  the  work 
grew,  and  the  means  were  found,  first  for  retaining  some 
of  the  juvenile  lodgers  who  came  only  for  a  night's  food, 
and  warmth,  and  shelter,  and  afterwards  for  receiving 
them  as  inmates. 

Some  of  these  are  sent  to  the  Refuge  by  persons  who 
are  furnished  with  printed  forms  of  application,  or  by 
mothers  who  can  afford  evident  testimony  that  they  can 


TAKING  IN  STRANGERS.  203 

scarcely  live  on  the  few  shillings  they  are  able  to  earn  by 
casual  work  as  charwomen,  or  by  the  no  less  casual  em- 
ployments where  the  wages  are  totally  inadequate  to 
support  a  family  ;  while  a  few  lads  have  themselves 
applied  for  admission  because  they  were  orphans,  or 
utterly  destitute  and  abandoned  by  those  on  whom  they 
might  be  supposed  to  have  a  claim. 

A  portion  of  the  old  building,  which  has  been  adapted  to 
the  purpose,  and  has  been  added  as  the  need  for  increased 
space  became  pressing,  is  now  devoted  to  the  dormitories, 
play-room,  and  school-room  of  some  fifty  to  sixty  of  this 
contingent  of  the  great  army  of  friendless  children ;  and 
at  the  time  of  the  last4Report  fourteen  had  but  just  left 
to  be  enlisted  in  military  bands  ;  two  had  become  mili- 
tary tailors  ;  situations  had  been  found  for  others  ; 
while  one  had  been  regularly  apprenticed  to  a  tailor  in 
London. 

There  are  frequently  several  boys  ready  for  such 
apprenticeship,  for  tailoring  is  the  only  regular  trade 
taught,  the  time  of  the  lads  being  occupied  in  learning  to 
read,  write,  and  cipher,  to  acquire  the  outlines  of  history 
and  geography,  and  to  take  a  place  in  the  military 
band  which  is  at  this  moment  making  the  cranky  old 
building  resound  with  its  performance  on  clarinets,  haut- 
boys, cornets,  "deep  bassoons,"  and  all  kinds  of 
wind  instruments,  under  the  direction  of  an  able  band- 
master, who  keeps  the  music  up  to  the  mark  with  a 
spirit  which  bespeaks  confidence  in  the  intelligence  of 
his  pupils. 

This  confidence  is  not  misplaced,  for  during  the  past 
year  eleven  youthful  recruits  have  been  drafted  from 
among  these  boys  into  the  bands  of  various  regiments,, 
while  there   are  above  ninety  applications  still  on  the 


204  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS:7 

books  for  more  musicians  who  have  chosen  this  branch 
of  the  military  service.  It  is  a  matter  of  choice,  of  course  ; 
and  there  are  some  who  prefer  to  become  sailors,  or  to  go 
into  situations  and  learn  the  trade  of  tailoring,  that  their 
instructors  may  be  able  to  recommend  them  to  respect- 
able masters  as  apprentices. 

But  let  us  walk  through  the  kitchen,  and  ascend  the 
short  zig-zag  stairs  which  lead  us  by  a  passage  to  the 
school-room,  where  most  of  the  boys  are  at  work  with 
their  slates.  Very  few  of  the  little  fellows  are  more  than 
thirteen  years  old,  and  some  of  them  have  been  but  a 
short  time  at  school  ;  but  even  those  who  came  here 
totally  uninstructed  have  made  admirable  progress,  and 
some  of  the  writing-books  containing  lessons  from  dicta- 
tion are  well  worth  looking  at  for  their  clean  and  excel- 
lent penmanship  and  fair  spelling ;  while  in  arithmetic 
the  boys  who  have  been  longest  under  tuition  have 
advanced  as  far  as  "  practice."  There  is  nothing  super- 
fluous in  school-room,  work-room,  or  play-room — indeed, 
one  might  almost  say  that  they  are  unfurnished,  except 
for  desks  and  forms  and  plain  deal  tables.  The  play- 
room is  a  lower  portion  of  the  old  slaughter-house, 
with  a  high  ceiling,  to  a  beam  in  which  is  fixed  a 
pair  of  ropes  terminating  in  two  large  wooden  rings  by 
which  the  youthful  gymnasts  swing  and  perform  all 
kinds  of  evolutions,  while  a  set  of  parallel  bars  are  among 
the  few  accessories. 

It  is  evident  that  nothing  is  spent  in  mere  ornament, 
and  that  the  expenditure  is  carefully  considered,  though 
recreation,  and  healthy  recreation  too,  is  a  part  of  the 
daily  duty,  which  is  regulated  in  a  fashion  befitting  the 
rather  military  associations  of  the  place.  Even  now,  as 
the  cheery  superintendent,  Mr.  Ramsden,  who  was  lately 


TAKING  IN  STRANGERS.  205 

quartermaster-sergeant  of  the  16th  Regiment,  calls 
"  Attention  !"  every  boy  is  quickly  on  his  feet  and  ready 
to  greet  us  ;  and  what  is  more,  the  boys  seem  to  like 
this  kind  of  discipline,  for  it  is  kind  in  its  prompt  demand 
for  obedience,  and  the  regularity  and  order  includes  a 
kind  of  self-reliance,  which  is  a  very  essential  part  of 
education  for  lads  who  must  necessarily  be  taught  what 
they  have  to  learn  in  a  comparatively  short  time,  and  are 
then  sent  out  where  order  and  promptitude  are  of  the 
utmost  service  to  them.  Economy  is  studied,  but  the 
recollection  of  the  cheery  kitchen  suggests  that  there  is 
no  griping  hard  endeavour  to  curtail  the  rations  neces- 
sary to  support  health  and  strength.  In  fact,  the  boys 
are  sufficiently  fed,  warmly  clothed,  and  are  encouraged 
both  to  work  and  play  heartily.  Breakfast  consists  of 
bread  and  coffee  ;  dinner  of  meat  and  vegetables  three 
days  in  the  week,  fish  on  one  day  (Wednesday),  pudding 
on  Monday,  soup  on  Friday,  meat  and  cheese  on  Satur- 
day ;  tea  or  coffee  with  bread  and  dripping,  while  on 
Sundays  butter  is  an  additional  luxury  both  at  break- 
fast and  tea  ;  and  on  Thursdays  and  Sundays  tea  is  sub- 
stituted for  coffee  at  the  evening  meal.  All  the  boys  are 
decently  and  warmly  clothed,  and  though  only  some  of 
their  number  "  take  to  music  "  as  a  profession,  and  choose 
to  go  into  the  military  bands,  they  all  receive  instruction. 
They  are  taught  to  keep  their  own  bunks  and  dormi- 
tories neat,  and,  in  fact,  do  their  own  household  work ; 
while,  morning  and  afternoon,  personal  trimness  is  pro- 
moted by  the  military  "inspection"  which  is  part  of  the 
discipline.  There  is  half  an  hour's  play  after  breakfast, 
another  quarter  of  hour  before  dinner,  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  for  "  washing  and  play  "  after  dinner,  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  before  tea,  and  from  an  hour  and  a  half  to  two 


206  "ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:' 

hours  for  boot-cleaning  and  play  before  bed-time,  besides 
out-door  exercise  daily,  except  in  wet  weather,  when 
drill  and  gymnastics  take  its  place.  They  also  go  to 
Primrose  Hill  on  Tuesday  and  Saturday  afternoons, 
there  to  run  in  the  fresh  air  and  disport  themselves  in 
cricket,  or  such  games  as  they  can  find  the  toys  for,  by 
the  kindness  of  the  committee  or  generous  visitors.  Even. 
with  these  recreations,  however,  they  find  time  to  go 
through  a  very  respectable  amount  of  work  in  the  four- 
teen hours  between  rising  and  bed-time  ;  and  the  letters 
received  from  lads  who  have  left  the  school  are  an  evi- 
dence that  they  remember  with  pleasure  and  with  grati- 
tude the  Refuge  that  became  a  home,  and  to  which  they 
attribute  their  ability  to  take  a  place  which  would  have 
been  denied  to  them  without  the  aid  which  grew  out  of 
pity  for  their  neglected  childhood. 

Here  is  a  short  epistle  from  one  of  the  juvenile  band, 
at  Shorncliffe  Camp,  written  a  year  or  two  ago  : — 

"  I  now  take  the  pleasure  of  writing  these  few  lines  and  I  hope  all 
the  boys  are  all  well,  and  all  in  the  school  and  please  Mr.  Ramsden 
will  you  send  me  the  parcel  up  that  I  took  into  the  school  it  was 
laying  in  the  bookcase  in  the  school-room  and  I  hope  that  all  the 
boys  are  all  getting  on  with  their  instruments  and  the  snips  with  their 
work  and  I  should  like  you  to  read  it  to  the  boys  and  I  wish  that 
you  would  let answer  it  and  I  am  getting  on  with  my  instru- 
ment very  well,  and  I  will  be  able  to  come  and  see  you  on  Crista- 
mas  season." 

This  is  a  characteristic  schoolboy  letter,  which  shows 
how  much  boys  are  alike  in  all  grades.  The  following  is 
another  letter  from  ShornclirTe  : — 

"  Dear  Sir, 

"  I  received  your  kind  and  welcome  letter  along  with  mothers, 
and  I  wrote  back  to  tell  you  we  have  all  been  enlisted  and  sworn  in, 
and  we  expect  to  get  our  clothes  next  week  and  we  all  feel  it  our 
duty  to  express  our  deeply  felt  gratitude  to  you  Mr.  Dust  and  the 


TAKING  IN  STRANGERS.  207 

Committee,  and  we  are  all  very  happy  at  present  please  give  our 
respects  to  Mrs.  Ramsden  Sister  Zillah  Mr.  McDerby  Mr.  Mason 
Mr.  Goodwin  Miss  Cheesman  and  please  remember  us  to  all  the 
boys.  Leary  is  on  sick  furlough  since  the  15th  of  Deer,  and  has  not 
returned  yet  and  Brenan,  Lloyd  Graham  McCarthy  Henderson  and 
all  the  others  are  very  jolly  at  present  and  been  out  all  the  afternoon 
amongst  the  snow.  So  I  conclude  with  kind  thanks  to  one  and  all 
and  believe  me  to  be  Dear  Sir 

"  Your  late  pupil 

"  Band Regt.'; 

The  following  will  show  how  the  memory  of  the  old 
slaughter-house  and  the  school  in  Newport  Market 
remains  after  the  boys  have  left  and  have  entered  on  a 
career.     It  is  addressed  from  Warley  Barracks  : — 

"  Dear  Sir 

"  I  now  take  the  opportunity  of  writing  to  you  hoping  you 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  school  and  the  sister  also.  It  is  a  long  time 
since  I  left  the  school  now  and  I  dont  suppose  you  would  know  me 
if  I  was  to  come  and  see  you  I  was  apprenticed  out  off  the  school 

along  of  J R to  Mr  W in  1869  I  think  it  was  as  a 

Tailor.     I  should  like  you  to  write  and  tell  me  if  you  know  what 

rigment  J H belong  to  his  school  number  was  34  and 

mine  was  35  me  and  him  was  great  friends  when  we  were  in  the 
school  and  I  should  like  to  know  very  much  were  he  is.  When  I 
left  the  School  Mr.  L was  Supperintendant  and  I  dont  sup- 
pose I  should  know  you  sir  if  I  was  to  see  you  I  shall  try  to  come 
down  and  see  the  School  if  I  can  on  Christmas  for  I  shall  be  on 
pass  to  London  for  seven  days  and  I  should  like  to  know  where 

J H is  so  as  I  should  be  able  to  see  him.    I  have  a  few 

more  words  to  say  that  is  the  school  was  the  making  of  me  and  I 
am  very  thankful  to  the  school  for  it  so  with  kind  love  to  you  all 
"  I  remain  your  humble  servant, 

"  Band Regiment, 

"  Warley  Barracks,  Essex. 

"J H number  was  34  and  mine  was  35. 

"Excuse  me  addressing  this  Letter  to  you  as  I  dont  know  any- 
thing about  you  sir." 

There  is  something   pleasant  indeed    in   letters   like 


208  "ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS? 

these  ;  and  I  for  one  am  not  surprised  that  the  boys 
should  go  to  their  musical  practice  with  a  will. 

They  are  just  preparing  to  play  something  for  our 
especial  delight  now,  and  so  burst  out,  in  a  grand 
triumphant  blast,  with  "  Let  the  Hills  Resound,"  after 
which  we  will  take  our  leave,  and,  we  hope,  not  without 
melody  in  our  hearts.  Just  one  word  as  we  go  through 
this  kitchen  again.  Two  West  End  clubs  supply  the 
Newport  Market  Refuge  with  the  remnants  of  their 
well-stocked  larders.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  how 
many  hungry  children  and  poor  men  and  women  could  be 
fed  on  the  actual  waste  that  goes  on  in  hotels,  clubs,  inns, 
dining-rooms,  and  large  and  ordinary  households  every 
day  ?  M.  Alexis  Soyer  used  to  say  that  he  could  feed 
ten  thousand  people  with  the  food  that  was  wasted  in 
London  every  day  ;  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  he  was 
not  far  wrong.  At  all  events,  an  enormous  salvage  of 
humanity  might  be  effected  if  only  the  one  meal  daily 
which  might  be  made  of  "  refuse  "  pieces  of  meat  and 
bread,  bones,  cuttings  of  vegetables,  cold  potatoes,  and 
general  pieces — was  secured  to  the  thousands  to  whom 
"  enough  "  would  often  indeed  be  "  as  good  as  a  feast." 
To  people  who  know  how  much  that  is  really  good  for 
food — not  the  plate-scrapings  and  leavings,  but  sound 
and  useful  reversions  of  meat  and  bread  and  vegetables, 
bones,  and  unsightly  corners  of  joints — is  either  suffered 
to  spoil  or  is  thrown  at  once  into  the  waste-tub,  both  in 
hotels  and  private  houses,  the  additional  knowledge  that 
there  are  hungry  children  in  every  district  in  London  to 
whom  a  bowl  of  nourishing  soup  or  a  plate  of  minced 
meat  and  vegetables  would  be  a  boon,  may  easily  be 
a  pain,  because  of  the  inability  to  suggest  how  to 
organise  the  means  of  utilising  what  one  is  tempted  to 
call  undeserved  plenty. 


FEEDING  THE  MULTITUDE, 

SUPPOSE  there  are  people  still  to  be  found 
who  have  but  a  vague  notion  of  what  it  is  to 
be  really  hungry.  They  may  be  conscious 
of  possessing  a  good  appetite  now  and  then, 
and  having  the  means  of  obtaining  food,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  of  choosing  what  they  will  eat,  regard  being  rather 
"  sharp  set  "  as  a  luxury  which  gives  additional  zest  to  a 
dinner,  enabling  them  to  take  off  the  edge  of  their  craving 
with  a  plate  of  warm  soup,  and  to  consider  what  they 
would  like  "  to  follow." 

Of  course  we  most  of  us  read  in  the  papers  of  the  dis- 
tress of  the  poor  during  the  winter,  of  the  number  of 
children  for  whom  appeals  are  made  that  they  may  have 
a  meal  of  meat  and  vegetables  once  or  twice  a  week,  of 
the  aggregate  of  casual  paupers  during  a  given  period, 
and  of  cases  where  "  death  accelerated  by  want  and  ex- 
posure "  is  the  verdict  of  a  coroner's  jury  ;  but  we  do  not 
very  easily  realise  what  it  is  to  be  famished ;  have  perhaps 
never  experienced  that  stage  beyond  hunger — beyond 
even  the  faintness  and  giddiness  that  makes  us  doubt 
whether  we  could  swallow  anything  solid,  and  would 
cause  us  to  turn  hopelessly  from  dry  bread.  There  is  no 
need  here  to  detail  the  sufferings  that  come  of  starvation. 

14 


2 io  "ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS." 

They  are  dreadful  enough  ;  but  if  our  chanty  needs  the 
stimulus  of  such  descriptions  we  are  in  a  bad  way,  and 
are  ourselves  in  danger  of  perishing  for  want  of  moral 
sustenance. 

Those  who  need  assurance  of  the  hunger  of  hundreds 
of  their  poor  neighbours  need  not  go  very  far  to  obtain 
it.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  at  the  window  of  any  common 
cook-shop  in  a  "  low  neighbourhood,"  at  about  seven 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  the  steam  of  unctuous 
puddings  is  blurring  the  glass,  and  the  odour  of  leg-of- 
beef  soup  and  pease-pudding  comes  in  gusts  to  the'chilly 
street,  should  suffice.  There  is  pretty  sure  to  be  a  group 
of  poor  little  eager-eyed  pinch-nosed  boys  and  girls 
peering  wistfully  in  to  watch  the  fortunate  possessor  of 
two-pence  who  comes  out  with  something  smoking  hot 
on  a  cabbage-leaf,  and  begins  to  bite  at  it  furtively  before 
he  crosses  the  threshold. 

Of  course,  according  to  modern  social  political  economy, 
it  would  be  encouraging  mendicity,  and  sapping  the 
foundations  of  an  independent  character,  to  distribute 
sixpenny  pieces  amongst  the  juvenile  committee  of  taste 
who  are  muttering  what  they  would  buy  if  only  some- 
body could  be  found  to  advance  "  a  copper."  But  it  is  to 
be  hoped  or  feared  (which  ?)  that  a  good  many  people 
yet  live  who  would  instinctively  feel  in  their  pockets  for 
a  stray  coin  to  expend  on  a  warm  greasy  slab  of  baked 
or  boiled,  or  on  half  a  dozen  squares  of  that  peculiarly 
dense  pie-crust  which  is  sold  in  ha'porths.  This  is  a 
vulgar  detail ;  but  somehow  poverty  and  hunger  are 
vulgar,  and  we  should  find  it  difficult  to  get  away  from 
them  if  we  tried  ever  so  hard.  Even  School  Boards, 
peeping  out  upon  the  children  perishing  for  lack  of  know- 
ledge, find  themselves  in  a  difficulty,  because  there  is  no 


FEEDING  THE  MUL  TITUDE.  2 1 1 

provision  under  the  compulsory  or  any  other  clause  for 
the  children  who  are  also  perishing  for  lack  of  food.  The 
Board  beadle  does  not  at  present  go  about  with  soup- 
tickets  in  his  pockets  ;  and  for  the  poor  shivering  shoeless 
urchins  who  are  mustered  in  the  big  brick-built  room 
where  they  assemble  according  to  law  there  is  no  free 
breakfast-class. 

It  must  one  day  become  a  question  how  they  are  to 
learn  till  they  are  filled.  Grown  people  find  it  hard 
enough  to  fix  their  attention  on  the  best  advice  or  the 
most  saving  doctrine  while  they  suffer  involuntary  hunger. 
The  multitude  must  mostly  be  fed  before  they  are  taught. 
Even  disciples  have  had  a  revelation  of  the  Bread  of  Life 
in  the  breaking  of  bread  that  perishes.  Do  we  still  need 
a  miracle  to  teach  us  that  ? 

Happily,  efforts  are  made  to  give  meat  to  the  hungry. 
During  the  winter  weather  food  is  distributed  in  various 
ways  amidst  some  of  those  poverty-stricken  neighbour- 
hoods to  which  I  am  obliged  to  take  you  during  our  ex- 
cursions ;  but  the  demand  far  exceeds  the  supply,  and 
people  suffer  hunger  at  all  seasons,  though  most  of  all  in 
the  time  of  bleak  winds  and  searching  cold. 

I  want  you  to  come  to-day  to  a  kitchen  which  is  open 
all  the  year  round — the  only  kitchen  of  the  kind  in  Lon- 
don which  does  not  close  its  doors  even  when  the  spring- 
tide brings  buds  of  promise  on  the  shrubs  in  Leicester 
Square,  and  the  London  sparrow  comes  out  from  roofs 
and  eaves,  and  preens  his  dingy  plumage  in  the  summer 
sun,  as  though  Great  Windmill  Street  had  something  in 
common  with  its  name,  and  sweet  country  odours  came 
from  the  region  of  the  Haymarket. 

For,  you  know,  we  are  still  in  the  district  of  Soho.  I 
have  but  just  now  brought  you  out  of  Newport  Market, 

14 — 2 


212  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:1 

and  now  we  are  in  a  very  curious  part  of  this  vast  strange 
city.  The  streets  are  dim  and  dingy,  but  not  so  squalid 
as  you  might  have  imagined.  They  are  still  and  silent, 
too,  as  of  a.  neighbourhood  that  has  seen  better  days,  and 
even  in  its  poverty  has  a  sense  of  gentility  which  is 
neither  boisterous  nor  obtrusive. 

You  will  remember  that  I  referred  to  this  neighbour- 
hood of  Soho  when  I  spoke  of  those  old  French  refugees 
who  came  and  made  industrial  colonies  in  London  after 
the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  This  is  the  only 
really  foreign  quarter  of  London  which  has  lasted  until 
to-day ;  but  that  is  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that 
it  became  representative  of  no  particular  industry,  and 
that,  probably  from  the  fact  of  many  of  the  patrons  of 
literature  and  art  having  then  town  houses  about  Leicester 
and  Soho  Squares,  the  more  artistic  refugees  took  up 
their  abode  in  the  adjacent  streets. 

From  the  time  when  William  Hogarth  painted  his  pic- 
ture of  the  Calais  Gate  till  only  a  short  time  ago,  when 
refugees  fled  from  besieged  Paris  to  find  some  poor  and 
wretched  lodging  in  the  purlieus  of  Cranbourne  Street, 
where  they  might  live  in  peace  and  hear  their  native 
tongue,  this  has  been  the  resort  of  poor  foreigners  in 
London.  It  almost  reminds  one  of  some  of  the  smaller 
streets  of  a  continental  city  ;  and  as  we  look  at  the  queer 
shabby  restaurants,  and  the  shops  with  strange  names 
painted  above  them  in  long  yellow  letters,  we  almost  ex- 
pect to  find  the  pavement  change  to  cobble-stones,  and 
to  see  some  queer  wooden  sign  dangle  overhead,  so  like 
is  the  place  to  the  small  bourgeois  quarter  that  in  our 
earlier  days  lay  behind  the  Madeleine  and  the  Porte  St. 
Denis. 

For  here  is  an  actual  cremerie — a  queer  compound  of 


FEEDING  THE  MULTITUDE.  213 

cook-shop  and  milkseller's — with  a  couple  of  bright  dairy 
cans  outside  the  door,  and  a  long  loaf  or  two  amidst  the 
cups  and  plates   and   sausages   in   the   dingy   window. 
Over  the  way  you  see  "  Blancliisscuse  "  in  large  letters  ; 
and  next  door  is  a  laiterie,  which  differs  from  a  cremerie 
as  a  cafe  alone  differs  from  a  cafe  restaurant  with    its 
"  commerce  de  vins  "  painted  in  big  capitals  in  front  of  a 
long  row  of  sour-looking  bottles  and  a  green  calico  cur- 
tain.    It  is  a  quaint  jumble,  all  the  way  to  Dean  Street, 
and  till  we  reach  the  edge  of  the  Haymarket — a  jumble 
of  Brown  and  Lebrun,  of  Jones  and  Jean,  of  Robin  (fils) 
and    Robinson  ;    but   for   all  the   little    musty-smelling 
cafe's,  the  blank  bare-windowed  restaurants,  the  cremeries, 
and  the  boulangcries,  there  is  nothing  of  a  well  fed  look 
about  the  district,  especially  just  at  this  corner,  leading 
as  it  seems  to  a  stable-yard  or  the  entrance  to  a  range  of 
packers'  warehouses.     There  is  one  open  front  here — is 
it  a  farrier's  or  a  blacksmith's  shop  ? — where  they  appear 
to  be  doing  a  stroke  of  business,  however,  for  there  is  a 
clinking,  and  a  fire,  and  a  steam  ;  but  the  steam  has  a 
fragrant  odour  of  vegetables — of  celery  and  turnips,  of 
haricots   and  gravy — the  clink  is  that   of    basins   and 
spoons  getting  ready,  and  the  fire  is  that  of  the  boiler 
which  simmers  two  mighty  cauldrons. 

Step  to  the  front,  and  you  will  see  in  big  white  letters 
right  across  the  house,  "Mont  St.  Bernard  Hospice." 
You  may  well  rub  your  eyes,  for  you  are  in  the  heart  of 
London,  and  stand  in  Ham  Yard,  Leicester  Square,  be- 
fore the  soup-kitchen  that  is  open  all  the  year. 

There  is  something  very  appetising  in  the  steam  that 
arises  from  both  these  huge  cauldrons,  one  of  which  is 
the  stock-pot,  containing  bones,  remnants  of  joints  (not 
plate-clearings),  and  reversions  of  cold  meat,  &c,  from 


214  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS." 

two  West  End  clubs.  To  this  are  added  vegetables — 
celery,  haricot  beans,  or  barley — making  it  a  fresh  palat- 
able stock,  not  remarkable  for  meatiness,  but  still  excel- 
lent in  flavour,  as  you  may  find  for  yourself  if  you  join 
me  in  a  luncheon  here.  But  the  real  strengthening 
gravy  has  yet  to  be  added,  and  the  cauldron  on  the  left 
hand  is  full  of  it — real,  genuine  gravy  soup,  made  from 
raw  meat  and  bones  purchased  for  this  purpose.  As 
soon  as  this  has  simmered  till  it  is  thoroughly  ready,  the 
contents  of  the  two  cauldrons  are  mixed,  and  the  result 
is  a  delicious  stew,  which  is  ready  to  be  turned  out  into 
these  yellow  pint  basins,  for  the  hungry  applicants,  who 
will  sit  down  at  one  of  these  two  deal  tables,  each  of 
which  has  its  rough  clean  form,  or  to  be  dispensed  to 
those  who  bring  jugs,  bowls,  cans;  saucepans,  kettles, 
pipkins — any  and  almost  every  receptacle  in  which  they 
can  carry  it  steaming  away  to  their  families. 

Let  us  stand  here  and  see  them  come  in.  Here  is  a 
poor  famishing  fellow,  who  looks  with  eager  eyes  at  the 
savoury  mess.  He  has  evidently  seen  better  days. 
There  is  an  unmistakable  air  of  education  about  him, 
and  as  he  sits  down  with  his  basin  and  spoon,  and  the 
handful  of  broken  bread,  which  is  added  to  the  soup  from 
one  of  a  series  of  clean  sacks  emptied  for  the  purpose, 
the  superintendent,  Mr.  Stevens,  scans  him  with  a  quick 
eye,  and  will  probably  speak  to  him  before  he  leaves. 
There  is  a  foreigner — an  Italian,  by  the  look  of  his  oval 
olive  face — who  takes  his  place  very  quietly,  and  as 
quietly  begins  to  eat ;  and  yonder  a  famished-looking, 
rough  fellow,  who  has  already  devoured  the  basinful  with 
his  eyes,  and  is  evidently  in  sore  need.  Men,  women, 
and  children,  or,  at  all  events,  boys  and  girls,  come  and 
present  their  tickets,  and  receive  this  immediate  relief, 


FEEDING  THE  MULTITUDE.  215 

•against  which  surely  not  the  most  rigorous  opponent  to 
mendicancy  can  protest.  The  cadger  and  the  profes- 
sional beggar  do  not  go  to  the  soup-kitchen  where 
nothing  is  charged,  for  they  do  not  need  food,  and  will 
•only  see  a  ticket  where  it  is  likely  to  be  accompanied  by 
the  penny  which  will  buy  a  quart.  Be  sure  that  there  are 
few  cases  here  which  are  not  so  necessitous  that  they  are 
not  far  from  starvation  ;  and  many  of  them  represent 
actually  desperate  want. 

The  tickets  for  obtaining  this  prompt  relief — often  only 
just  in  time  to  save  some  poor  creature  from  utter  desti- 
tution and  crime,  and  as  often  administered  when  a 
family  is  without  food,  and  yet  clings  to  the  hope  of 
finding  work  to  prevent  that  separation  which  they  must 
submit  to  by  becoming  paupers — are  placed  in  the  hands 
of  clergymen,  doctors,  district  visitors,  Bible-women,  and 
those  who  know  the  poor,  and  can  feel  for  them  when  in 
hard  times  they  pawn  furniture,  tools,  and  clothes,  and 
suffer  the  extremity  of  want,  before  they  will  apply  for 
parochial  relief,  and  have  offered  to  them  the  alternative 
of  "  going  into  the  house." 

The  annals  of  the  poor,  from  which  extracts  occasion- 
ally appear  in  the  newspapers  in  the  accounts  of  coroners' 
inquests,  prove  to  what  dreadful  sufferings  many  decent 
but  destitute  people  will  submit  rather  than  become  re- 
cognised paupers  ;  and  no  system  of  charitable  relief  out- 
side the  workhouse  walls  will  be  effectual  or  useful  which 
does  not  recognise  and  respect  this  feeling.  Who  would 
let  the  possible  accident  of  some  unworthy  person  getting 
a  gratuitous  pint  of  soup  stand  in  the  way  of  a  work 
such  as  we  see  going  on  here,  where  one  year's  beneficent 
action  includes  above  ten  thousand  persons  relieved  ? — 
a   large   number  of  whom   are  temporarily  taken   into 


216  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS!' 

the  Hospice,  as  we  shall  see  presently,  while  a  great  con- 
tingent is  represented  by  the  family  tickets,  which  enable 
poor  working  men  and  women  from  various  districts  in 
London  to  carry  away  a  gallon  of  strong  nourishing  soup,, 
and  an  apronful  of  bread  to  their  hungry  little  ones. 
You  see  that"great  heap  of  pieces  of  fine  bread — slices, 
hunches,  remnants  of  big  loaves,  dry  toast,  French  bread, 
brown  bread,  and  rolls — all  placed  in  a  clean  wooden 
bin,  they  also  come  from  the  two  great  West  End  clubs 
before  mentioned,  and  are  so  appreciated  by  the  appli- 
cants for  relief  (they  being  usually  good  judges  of  quality) 
that  you  may  note  a  look  of  disappointment  if  the  stock 
of  club  bread  has  been  exhausted,  and  a  portion  of  one 
of  the  common  loaves  bought  for  the  purpose  is  substi- 
tuted. The  small  broken  bread  in  those  clean  sacks  is 
club  bread  also — the  crumbs  from  rich  men's  tables,  but 
clean,  and  thoroughly  good,  fit  for  immediate  addition  to* 
the  soup,  which  a  hungry  company  of  diners  consume  m 
a  painfully  short  space  of  time. 

They  are  not  inhabitants  of  this  district,  either  ;  com- 
paratively few  come  from  the  immediate  neighbourhood, 
though,  of  course,  some  poor  families  of  the  adjacent 
streets  and  alleys,  and  occasionally  foreign  workmen — 
many  of  them  adepts  in  artistic  employments,  who  are 
in  the  land  of  the  stranger  and  in  want — come  here  and 
have  not  only  the  help  of  a  meal,  but  the  kind  inquiry, 
the  further  aid  that  will  sustain  hope,  and  enable  them  to 
look  for  work,  and  find  the  means  of  living.  Londoners- 
from  Kentish  Town,  Lambeth,  Shoreditch,  and  Chelsea 
— poor  hungry  men  and  women  from  all  parts  of  the 
great  city — find  their  way  here  to  obtain  a  dinner  ;  and 
it  is  extremely  unlikely  that  they  would  leave  even  the 
least  profitable  employment  and  walk  so  far  for  the  sake 


FEEDING  THE  MULTITUDE.  217 

of  a  basin  of  soup.  Food  alone  is  offered,  not  money, 
and  there  is  little  probability  of  imposition  when  there  is 
so  little  to  be  gained  by  the  attempt.  But  while  the 
great  cauldrons  are  being  emptied,  let  us  hear  what  they 
do  at  this  "  Mont  St.  Bernard  Hospice"  at  the  Christmas 
season. 

Here  is  a  list  of  good  things  that  were  sent  at  Christ- 
mas-tide for  a  special  purpose  : — A  noble  earl  sent  a 
sheep,  if  not  more  than  one,  and  other  generous  givers  in 
kind — many  of  them  manufacturers  of  or  dealers  in  the 
articles   they   contributed — forwarded    loaves,    biscuits, 
hams,  rice,  flour,  currants,  raisins,  ale,  porter,  cocoa,  peas, 
and  other  comfortable  meats  and  drinks,  so  that  there 
was  a  glorious  distribution  to  the  poor  on  Christmas  Eve, 
when  936  families  were  provided  with  a  Christmas  dinner, 
consisting  of  4  lbs.  of  beef,  3  lbs.  of  pudding,  bread,  tea, 
and  sugar,  together  with  such  other  seasonable  and  most 
acceptable  gifts  as  were  apportioned  to  them  in  accordance 
with  the  number  of  their  children  and  the  quantity  of  mis- 
cellanous  eatables  and  drinkables  available  for  the  purpose. 
But  we  have  not  quite  done  with  it  yet,  for  it  is  a  hos- 
pice in  fact,  as  well  as  in  name.     Just  as  in  the  Newport 
Market  Refuge,  the  houseless  and  destitute  are  received 
with   little  question — the  homeless    and    friendless    are 
here  taken  in  after  little  inquiry,  even  the  subscriber's 
ticket  for  admission  being  occasionally  dispensed  with, 
when  Mr.  Stevens,  the  superintendent,  sees  an  obviously 
worthy   case   among   the  applicants   who   come  to  ask 
for  a  meal.     It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  an 
experienced    eye    can    detect   the   casual   very   readily, 
and  that  Mr.  Stevens,  who  served  with  his  friend   Mr. 
Ramsden,  of  Newport  Market,  when  they  were  both  in 
the  army,  is  as  smart  a  detective  as   that  shrewd  and 


2 1 8  "ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  B  US  I  NESS." 

compassionate  officer.  It  is  so  much  the  better  for  those 
who  are  really  deserving — so  much  the  better  even  for 
those  who,  being  ashamed  to  dig,  are  not  ashamed  to  beg 
— the  ne'er-do-weels  who,  even  in  the  degradation  of 
poverty  brought  about  by  idleness  and  dissipation,  come 
down  to  solicit  food  and  shelter,  and  find  both,  together 
with  ready  help,  if  they  will  mend  their  ways.  There 
are  some  such,  but  not  many  :  more  often  a  man  of  edu- 
cation, broken  by  misfortune,  and  perhaps  by  the  loss  of 
a  situation  through  failure  or  accident  beyond  his  control, 
finds  himself  starving  and  desolate.  Such  men  have 
come  here,  and  found,  first,  food,  then  a  lavatory,  then  a 
bed  in  a  good-sized  room,  where  only  seven  or  eight  per- 
sons are  received  to  sleep,  then  a  confidential  talk,  advice, 
the  introduction  to  people  willing  and  able  to  help  them 
among  the  committee  and  subscribers  of  the  Institution. 

It  may  be  a  French  tutor  destitute  in  London,  but 
with  his  character  and  ability  beyond  doubt  ;  it  may  be, 
it  has  been,  a  young  foreign  artist ;  a  skilled  labourer 
from  the  country,  who  has  come  to  London  to  find  work 
and  finds  want  instead  ;  a  poor  school-teacher  who, 
having  lost  an  appointment,  and  being  unable  to  work 
at  any  other  calling,  is  in  despair,  and  knows  not  where 
to  turn  ;  an  honest  fellow,  ready  and  willing  to  turn  his 
hand  to  anything,  but  finding  nothing  to  which  he  can 
turn  his  hand  without  an  introduction.  Such  are  the 
cases  which  are  received  at  this  hospice  in  Ham  Yard, 
where  they  are  permitted  to  remain  for  a  day  or  two,  or 
even  for  a  week  or  two,  till  they  find  work,  or  till  some- 
body can  make  inquiries  about  them  and  help  them  to 
what  they  seek. 

About  seven  men  and  eight  women  can  be  received 
within  the  walls,  but  there  are  seldom  the  full  number 


FEEDING   THE  MULTITUDE.  219 

there,  because  it  is  necessary  to  discriminate  carefully. 
The  object  is  to  relieve  immediate  and  painful  distress, 
and  to  give  that  timely  aid  which  averts  starvation  by 
the  gift  of  food,  and  prevents  the  degradation  of  pau- 
perism by  means  of  advice,  assistance,  and  just  so  much 
support  as  will  give  the  stricken  and  friendless  men  or 
women  time  to  recover  from  the  first  stupor  of  hopeless- 
ness or  the  dread  of  perishing,  and  at  the  same  time 
afford  the  opportunity  of  proving  that  they  are  ready 
and  willing  to  begin  anew,  with  the  consciousness  that 
they  have  not  been  left  desolate. 


GIVING  REST  TO  THE  WEARY. 

E  have  not  yet  done  with  this  wonderful  dis- 
trict of  Soho.  It  is  one  of  those  attractive 
quarters  of  London,  which  is  interesting 
alike  for  its  historical  associations  and  for 
memorable  houses  that  were  once  inhabited  by  famous 
men.  In  essays,  letters,  fiction — all  through  that  period 
which  has  been  called  the  Augustan  age  of  English 
literature — we  find  allusions  to  it ;  and  after  that  time 
it  continued  to  be  the  favourite  resort  of  artists,  men 
of  letters,  wealthy  merchants,  and  not  a  few  states- 
men and  eminent  politicians.  In  Leicester  Square,  Ho- 
garth laughed,  moralised,  and  painted.  The  house  of 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  stands  yet  in  that  now  renovated 
space,  and  a  well-known  artist  has  a  studio  there  to-day. 
But  the  tide  of  fashion  has  receded  since  powdered  wigs 
and  sedan  chairs  disappeared.  The  tall  stately  houses 
are  many  of  them  dismantled,  or  are  converted  into 
manufactories  and  workshops.  The  great  iron  extin- 
guishers which  still  adorn  the  iron  railings  by  the  door- 
steps have  nearly  rusted  away.  It  must  be  a  century 
since  the  flambeaux  carried  by  running  footmen  were 
last  thrust  into  them,  when  great  rumbling,  creaking 
coaches  drew  up  and  landed  visitors  before  the  dimly- 


GIVING  REST  TO  THE  WEARY.  221 

lighted  portals.  Silence  and  decay  are  the  characteris- 
tics of  many  a  once  goodly  mansion ;  and  the  houses 
themselves  are  not  unfrequently  associated  with  the  relief 
of  that  poverty  which  is  everywhere  so  apparent  as  to 
appeal  to  almost  every  form  of  charity.  Before  one  such 
house  we  are  standing  now,  its  quietly  opening  door  re- 
vealing a  broad  lofty  hall,  from  which  a  great  staircase, 
with  heavy  baluster  of  black  oak  and  panelled  walls  leads 
to  the  spacious  rooms  above.  This  mansion  is  historical, 
too,  in  its  way,  for  we  are  at  the  corner  of  Soho  Square, 
in  Greek  Street,  and  are  about  to  enter  what  was  once  the 
London  residence  of  the  famous  Alderman  Beckford,  and 
his  equally  famous  son — the  man  who  inherited  the  mys- 
terious and  gorgeously  furnished  palace  at  Fonthill,  the 
author  of  "  Vathek,"  the  half-recluse  who  bought  Gib- 
bon's extensive  library  at  Lausanne,  that  he  might  have 
"  something  to  amuse  him  when  he  went  that  way,"  and 
afterwards  went  that  way,  read  himself  nearly  blind,  and 
then  made  a  friend  a  present  of  all  the  books,  sold  Font- 
hill,  went  abroad,  and  set  about  building  another  mys- 
terious castle  in  a  strange  land. 

In  that  big  committee-room  on  the  first  floor,  which 
we  shall  visit  presently,  there  was  to  be  seen,  four  or  five 
years  ago,  a  stupendous  chimney-piece  of  oak,  elabo- 
rately carved,  and  said  to  have  been  a  masterpiece  of 
Grinling  Gibbons.  It  was  taken  down  and  sold  for  a 
handsome  sum  of  money,  to  augment  the  funds  of  the 
Institution  which  now  occupies  the  old  mansion,  for  the 
door  at  which  we  enter  receives  other  guests  than  those 
who  once  thronged  it — suffering,  depressed,  poverty- 
stricken,  weary  men  and  women,  who  come  here  to  seek 
the  rest  that  is  offered  to  them  in  the  quiet  rooms — the 
restoration  of  meat  and  drink  and  refreshing  sleep,  the 


222  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:' 

comfort  of  hopeful  words  and  friendly  aid.  It  is  named 
"  The  House  of  Charity/'  and  the  work  that  its  sup- 
porters have  set  themselves  to  do  is  carried  on  so 
silently — I  had  almost  said  so  secretly — that  the  still- 
ness you  observe  within  the  building,  as  we  stand  here 
waiting  for  the  lady  who  superintends  the  household, 
is  suggestive  alike  of  the  repose  which  is  essential  to 
the  place,  and  of  a  severe  earnestness  not  very  easy  to 
define. 

Members  of  the  same  committee,  whose  earnest  hearty 
work  is  apparent  at  Newport  Market  and  at  the  Soup 
Kitchen  in  Ham  Yard,  are  helping  this  House  of  Charity, 
which  has  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  for  its  patron 
and  the  Bishop  of  London  for  its  visitor. 

Here,  in  the  two  large  sitting-rooms  opening  from  the 
hall,  we  may  see  part  of  what  is  being  done,  in  giving 
rest  to  the  weary  and  upholding  them  who  are  ready  to 
faint.  One  is  for  men,  the  other  for  women,  who  have 
been  received  as  inmates,  for  periods  extending  from  a 
fortnight  to  a  longer  time,  according  to  the  necessities  of 
each  case,  and  the  probability  of  obtaining  suitable  em- 
ployment. Of  course  the  aid  is  intended  to  be  only 
temporary — though  in  some  peculiar  cases  it  is  continued 
till  the  applicant  recovers  from  weakness  following  either 
uninfectious  illness  or  want.  There  can  be,  of  course, 
no  actual  sick-nursing  here  ;  but  in  a  warm  and  comfort- 
able upper  room,  near  the  dormitory,  which  we  shall  see 
presently— a  room  which  is  the  day-nursery  of  a  few 
children  who  are  also  admitted— I  have  seen  young 
women,  one  who  was  suffering  from  a  consumptive 
cough,  another  an  out-patient  at  an  hospital  for  disease 
of  the  hip,  and  wearing  an  instrument  till  she  could  be 
admitted    as    a   regular  case.     They  were   both    sitting 


GIVING  REST  TO  THE  WEARY.  223 

cosily  at  their  tea,  and  were  employed  at  needlework,  as 
most  of  the  women  are  who  find  here  a  temporary  home. 
For  it  is  one  of  the  beneficent  results  of  an  influential 
committee,  that  a  number  of  cases  are  sent  to  hospitals 
or  to  convalescent  homes,  and  so  are  restored  ;  but  till 
this  can  be  done  they  are  fed  and  tended — fed  with  food 
more  delicate  than  that  of  the  ordinary  meal — and  are 
allowed  to  rest  in  peace  and  to  regain  strength. 

But  we  are  still  in  the  men's  sitting-room,  where 
several  poor  fellows  are  looking  at  the  lists  of  adver- 
tisements in  the  newspapers  for  some  announcement  of 
a  vacant  situation.  A  supply  of  books  is  also  provided 
both  for  men  and  women,  and  the  latter  are  just  now 
engaged  in  mending  or  making  their  clothes.] 

Between  thirty  and  forty  inmates  can  be  received  at 
one  time,  and  those  who  are  in  search  of  employment,  or 
who  require  to  go  out  during  the  day,  may  leave  the  house 
after  breakfast,  and  return  either  to  dinner  or  to  tea. 
There  are,  indeed,  few  restrictions  when  once  prelimi- 
nary inquiries  and  the  recommendation  of  a  member  of 
the  committee  result  in  the  admission  of  an  applicant; 
and  it  is  easy  to  see  how  deeply  and  thankfully  many  of 
these  poor  depressed  men  and  women,  beaten  in  the 
battle  of  life,  with  little  hope  of  regaining  a  foothold, 
weak,  dispirited,  destitute,  and  with  no  strength  left  to 
struggle  under  the  burden  that  weighs  them  down, 
find  help  and  healing,  food  and  sleep,  advice,  and  very 
often  a  recommendation  which  places  them  once  more  in 
a  position  of  comfort  and  independence.  A  large  propor 
tion  of  those  who  are  admitted  are  provided  with  situa 
tions  either  permanently  or  for  a  period  long  enough  to 
enable  them  to  turn  round  the  difficult  corner  from 
poverty    and    dependence    to    useful    and    appropriate 


224  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

employment.  Some  are  sent  to  Homes,  hospitals,  or 
orphanages,  and  many  return  to  their  own  homes.  From 
those  homes  they  have  wandered,  hoping  to  find  the 
world  easier  than  it  has  proved  to  be,  and  in  going  back 
to  them  they  have  fallen  by  the  wayside. 

There    are    sometimes   remarkable   varieties    here — 
emigrants  waiting  for  ships  to  sail  that  will  bear  them 
to   another    land ;    men    of  education,    such  as   tutors, 
engineers,  engravers,   and  professional    men,  who    have 
been   unsuccessful,  or    have    lost    their    position,    often 
through  no   immediate  fault  of  their  own.     Of  course, 
the  large  class  of  genteel  poverty  is  largely  represented 
in  the  five  or  six  hundred  cases  which  make  the  average 
number  of  yearly  inmates.     Clerks,  shopmen,  and  tra- 
vellers are  about  as  numerous  as  servants,  porters,  and 
pages.     Poor  women,  many  of  whom  are  ladies  by  birth 
or  previous  position   and  education,  find  the  House  of 
Charity  a  refuge  indeed,  and   feel  that  the  person  who 
has  charge  of  the  household  arrangements,  as  well  as 
those  who  have  charge  of  the  inmates,  the  accounts  and 
correspondence,  may  be  appealed  to  with  an  assurance 
of  true  sympathy.     Here,  beside  the  two  sitting-rooms, 
is  a  large  room  which  we  will  call  the  refectory ;  it  is 
plainly   furnished,   with   separate    tables   for   men    and 
women,  and  the  quantity  and  description  of  the  food 
supplied  is  such  as  would  be  provided  in  a  respectable 
and  well-ordered    family — tea  or  coffee  and    plenty  of 
good   bread-and-butter    morning    and    evening,    meat, 
bread   and   vegetables,     for    dinner,    and    a   supper  of 
bread   and   cheese.     There  are  no  "  rations,"  nor  any 
special  limit  as  to  quantity,  and  if  one  could  forget  the 
distress  which  brings  them  hither,  the  family  might  be 
regarded   as   belonging   to    some  comfortable   business 


GIVING  REST  TO  THE  WEARY.  225 

establishment,  with  good  plain  meals  and  club-room  on 
each  side  the  dining-hall  for  meeting  in  after  working 
hours. 

Let  us  go  upstairs,  and  look  at  the  dormitories,  which 
occupy  respectively  the  right  and  left  side  of  the  build- 
ing, and  we  shall  see  that  they  are  so  arranged  as  to 
secure  that  privacy,  the  want  of  which  would  be  most 
repulsive  to  persons  of  superior  condition.  Each  long 
and  lofty  room  is  divided  into  a  series  of  enclosures  or 
cabins  by  substantial  partitions  about  eight  feet  high, 
and  in  each  of  these  separate  rooms — all  of  which  are 
lighted  by  several  windows  or  by  gas-branches  in  the 
main  apartment — there  is  a  neat  comfortable  bed  and 
bedstead,  with  space  for  a  box,  a  seat,  and  a  small  table 
or  shelf. 

A  resident  chaplain  or  warden  conducts  morning  and 
evening  prayer  in  the  chapel,  which  is  built  on  part  of 
the  open  area  at  the  back  of  the  building ;  and  I  would 
have  you  consider,  not  only  that  to  many  of  these  weary 
souls  this  sacred  spot  may  come  to  be  associated  with 
that  outcome  to  renewed  life  for  which  their  presence 
in  the  Institution  gives  them  reason  to  hope,  but  that  it 
is  most  desirable  for  the  invalids,  who  frequently  form  so 
large  a  portion  of  the  congregation,  to  be  able  to  attend 
worship  without  practically  leaving  the  house. 

Not  only  because  of  the  sick  and  the  physically  feeble, 
however,  does  the  House  of  Charity  represent  a  work 
that  needs  vast  extension. 

The  case-book  would  reveal  a  series  of  stories  none 
the  less  affecting  because  they  are  entered  plainly,  briefly, 
and  without  waste  of  words.  They  need  few  touches  of 
art  to  make  them  painfully  interesting.  They  tell  of 
ladies,  wives  of  professional  men,  brought  to  widowhood 

15 


226  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS." 

and  sudden  poverty  ;  of  men  of  education  cast  adrift 
through  failure  or  false  friendship,  and  not  knowing 
where  to  seek  bread  ;  of  children  left  destitute  or  de- 
serted under  peculiar  circumstances ;  of  women  removed 
from  persecution,  and  girls  from  the  tainted  atmosphere 
of  vice ;  of  weary  wanderers  who,  in  despair  of  finding 
such  a  shelter,  and  dreading  the  common  lodging-house, 
have  spent  nights  in  the  parks  ;  of  foreigners  stranded 
on  the  shore  of  a  strange  city  ;  of  ministers  of  the  gospel 
brought  low ;  of  friendless  servant-girls,  ill-treated,  de- 
frauded of  their  wages,  or  discharged  almost  penniless, 
and  cast  loose  amidst  the  whirlpool  of  London  streets. 

But,  as  I  have  already  intimated,  it  is  not  alone  for 
its  temporary  aid  in  affording  a  home  that  the  House  of 
Charity  is  distinguished ;  it  affords  a  good  hope  also,  by 
seeking  to  obtain  situations,  for  cases  where  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances make  such  a  search  difficult — for  bereaved 
and  impoverished  ladies,  and  for  educated  men,  as  well 
as  for  domestic  servants  and  ordinary  employes.  Its 
supporters  give  their  special  aid  to  the  work,  and,  as 
they  number  amongst  them  many  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  considerable  social  influence,  employment  is  frequently 
found  for  those  whose  misfortunes  would  otherwise  be 
almost  irretrievable. 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY. 

LL  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here,"  would, 
as  we  might  fancy,  be  an  appropriate  in- 
scription for  many  a  wretched    court  and 

1  alley  in  the  greatest  and  most  opulent  city 
in  the  world — a  city  distinguished  for  its  claims  to  be  re- 
garded as  the  centre  of  civilisation  ;  as  the  exemplar  of 
benevolence,  and  of  active  Christianity.  It  is  one  of  the 
marvellous  results  of  the  vast  extent  of  this  metropolis 
of  England  that  there  are  whole  districts  of  foul  dwellings 
crowded  with  a  poverty-stricken  population,  which  yet 
are  almost  ignored,  so  far  as  public  recognition  of  their 
existence  is  concerned.  Legislation  itself  does  not  reach 
them,  in  the  sense  of  compelling  the  strict  observance  of 
Acts  of  Parliament  framed  and  presumably  enforced  for 
the  purpose  of  maintaining  sanitary  conditions  ;  philan- 
thropy almost  stands  appalled  at  the  difficulty  of  dealing 
with  a  chronic  necessity  so  widely  spread,  a  misery  and 
ignorance  so  deep  and  apparently  impregnable ;  senti- 
men^ahsm^sighs  and  turns  away  with  a  shiver^or  is 
touched  to  the  extent  67  relieving  "Its  overcharged  sus- 
ceptibilities by  the  comfortable  expedient  of  the  smallest 
subscription  to  some  association  in  the  neighbourhood. 
True,  active,  practical  religion  alone,  of  all  the  agencies 

15—2 


228  "ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS!' 

that  have  operated  in  these  places,  gains  ground  inch  by 
inch,  and  at  last  exercises  a  definite  and  beneficial  in- 
fluence, by  taking  hold  of  the  hearts  and  consciences  of 
the  people  themselves,  and  working  from  within  the  area 
of  vice  and  misery,  till  the  law  of  love,  beginning  to  ope- 
rate where  the  law  of  force  had  no  influence,  a  change, 
gradual  but  sure,  here  a  little  and  there  a  little,  is  effected. 

We  are  continually  hearing  of  the  "  dwellings  of  the 
poor ;"  and  can  scarcely  take  up  a  newspaper  without 
noting  the  phrase,  "  one  of  the  worst  neighbourhoods  in 
London,"  connected  with  some  report  of  crime,  outrage, 
or  suffering  ;  yet  how  few  of  us  are  really  familiar  with 
the  actual  abodes  of  the  more  degraded  and  miserable 
of  our  fellow-citizens !  how  quickly,  how  gladly,  we  dis- 
miss from  our  memory  the  account  of  an  inquest  where 
the  evidence  of  the  cause  of  death  of  some  unfortunate 
man,  woman,  or  child,  without  a  natural  share  of  light, 
air,  food,  and  water,  reveals  hideous  details  of  want  and 
wretchedness,  which  we  might  witness  only  a  few  streets 
off,  and  yet  are  unconscious  of  their  nearness  to  us  in 
mere  physical  yards  and  furlongs,  because  they  are  so 
far  from  us  spiritually,  in  our  lack  of  sympathy  and  com- 
passion. 

Even  at  the  time  that  these  lines  are  being  written  I 
have  before  me  a  report  of  an  examination  by  the 
coroner  into  the  circumstances  attending  the  death  of  a 
woman  seventy  years  of  age,  who  obtained  a  miserable 
and  precarious  living  by  stay-making,  and  who  was  found 
dead  in  the  back  kitchen  of  a  house.  Her  death  was 
alleged  to  have  been  brought  about  by  the  unhealthiness 
of  the  house  in  which  she  lived,  although  the  landlord 
was  a  medical  officer  of  health  for  one  of  the  metropolitan 
districts. 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  229 

In  this  case  the  alleged  landlord,  who  was  actually  a 
medical  officer  of  health,  answered  the  charge  made 
against  him  by  the  statement  that  he  had  only  just  come 
into  possession  of  the  property,  and  had  at  once  set 
about  putting  it  in  repair.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this 
was  the  case,  and,  indeed,  the  evidence  of  the  sanitary 
inspector  went  to  show  that  it  was  so  ;  but  the  question 
remains  :  How  is  it  that  dwellings  are  permitted  to 
be  thus  overcrowded,  and  to  become  actual  centres  of 
pestilence  in  the  midst  of  entire  neighbourhoods,  where, 
for  one  foul  tenement  to  have  an  infamous  reputation 
amidst  such  general  filth  and  dilapidation,  it  must  indeed 
be,  as  one  member  of  the  jury  said  this  place  was,  "  so 
bad,  that  no  gentleman  would  keep  his  dog  there  ?" 

Keep  his  dog  indeed  !  Why  I  know  whole  rows  and 
congeries  of  intersecting  courts  and  alleys  where  a  country 
squire  would  no  more  think  of  kennelling  his  hounds  than 
he  would  dream  of  stabling  his  horses  !  There  has 
during  the  past  few  years  been  a  tolerably  determined 
stand  made  against  the  introduction  of  pigsties  into  the 
back-yards  of  some  of  the  hovels  about  Mile  End  and 
Bethnal  Green  ;  and  though  cow-sheds  are  not  altogether 
abolished  everywhere  in  close  and  overbuilt  localities, 
there  are  some  precautions  taken  to  diminish  the  sale  of 
infected  milk  by  an  inspection  of  the  laystalls,  and  the 
enforcement  of  lime-whiting  and  ventilation  in  the  sheds. 
Costermongers'  donkeys  are  the  only  animals  besides 
dogs  and  cats  which  are  commonly  to  be  found  in  London 
slums  now,  and  as  these  can  be  stowed  in  any  shanty 
just  outside  the  back  door,  or  can  be  littered  down  in  a 
spare  corner  of  a  cellar,  they  remain,  in  costermongering 
districts,  without  much  opposition  on  the  part  of  the 
local  authorities.     For,  after  all,  what  can  these  autho* 


230  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS? 

rities  do  ?  Under  the  35th  section  of  the  Sanitary  Act, 
power  was  given  to  them  to  register  all  houses  let  out  by 
non-resident  landlords,  who  were  under  a  penalty  of 
forty  shillings  for  not  keeping  their  houses  in  repair,  well 
supplied  with  water,  drainage  clear,  &c.  To  those  who 
have  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  density  of 
population  in  whole  acreages  of  London  slums,  there  is 
something  almost  ludicrous  in  these  words, 'especially 
when  they  are  read  in  the  light  of  the  fact  that  the  land- 
lords of  such  places  are  frequently  parochial  magnates  or 
officials  who  know  how  to  make  things  pleasant  with 
subordinate  sanitary  inspectors. 

What  may  be  the  ultimate  result  of  an  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment "  for  improving  the  dwellings  of  the  poor  "  it  is  not 
at  present  easy  to  say ;  but  assuredly  any  plan  which 
commences  by  a  general  and  imperfectly  discriminative 
destruction  of  existing  houses,  hovels  though  they  may 
be,  will  only  have  the  effect  of  crowding  more  closely  the 
already  foetid  and  swarming  tenements  where,  for  half-a 
crown  a  week,  eight  or  ten  people  eat,  live,  and  sleep  in 
a  single  apartment.  It  was  only  the  other  day,  in  a  dis- 
trict of  which  I  shall  presently  speak  more  definitely, 
that  a  "  mission  woman  "  was  called  in  to  the  aid  of  a 
family,  consisting  of  a  man,  his  wife,  his  wife's  brother — 
who  was  there  as  a  lodger — and  five  or  six  children,  all 
of  whom  occupied  one  room,  where  the  poor  woman  had 
just  given  birth  to  an  infant.  The  place  was  almost  des- 
titute of  furniture  ;  beds  of  straw  and  shavings,  coverlets 
of  old  coats  and  such  ragged  clothing  as  could  be  spared  ; 
little  fire  and  little  food.  Such  destitution  demanded 
that  the  "  maternity  box,"  or  a  suddenly-extemporised 
bag  of  baby-clothing  and  blankets,  should  be  fetched  at 
once ;  and  though  the  mission  there  is  a  poor  one,  with 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  231 

terrible  needs  to  mitigate,  a  constant  demand  for  personal 
work  and  noble  self-sacrifice,  such  cases  are  every-day 
events,  such  demands  always  to  be  answered  by  some  kind 
of  h  elpful  sympathy,  even  though  the  amount  of  relief 
afforded  is  necessarily  small  and  temporary  in  character. 

Not  in  one  quarter  of  London  alone,  but  dotted  here  and 
there  throughout  its  vastly-extending  length  and  breadth 
— from    St.    Pancras,  and    further  away  northward,  to 
Bethnal  Green  and  all  that  great  series  of  poverty-stricken 
townships  and  colonies  of  casual  labour,   on   the   east ; 
from  the  terrible   purlieux   of  Southwark,   the  districts 
where  long  rows  of  silent  houses,  in  interminable  streets, 
chill  the  unaccustomed  wayfarer  with  vague  apprehensions, 
where  "  Little  Hell"  and  the  knots  and  tangles  of  that 
"  Thief-London  "  which  has  found   a  deplorable  Alsatia 
in  the  purlieux  of  the  Borough  and  of  Bermondsey  ;  and 
so  round  the  metropolitan  circle,  westward  to  the  neigh 
bourhood  of  aristocratic  mansions  and  quiet  suburban 
retreats,  where  the  garotter  skulks  and  the  burglar  finds 
refuge  ;  further  towards  the  centre  of  the  town,  in  West- 
minster,  not   a  stone's- throw  from  the  great  legislative 
assembly,  which,  while  it  debates  in  St.  Stephen's  on  sanita- 
tion and  the  improvement  of  dwellings,  scarcely  remem- 
bers all  that  may  be  seen  in  St.  Peter's,  about  Pye  Street,  and 
remembers  Seven  Dials  and  St  Giles's  only  as  traditional 
places,  where   "  modern  improvements "   have    made  a 
clean  sweep,  just  as  the  Holborn  Viaduct  and  the  metro- 
politan  Railway  swept  away  Field  Lane,  and   the  new 
meat  market  at  Smithfield  put  an  end   for  ever  to  the 
horrible  selvage  of  Cloth  Fair — and  only  left  the  legends 
of  Jonathan  Wild's  rookery  and  the  "blood-bowl  house." 

But  the  very  mention  of  these  places  brings  the  reflection 
that  not  in   outlying  districts,  but  in  the  very  heart  of 


232  «  ABOUT  MY  FA THER'S  BUSINESS:1 

London,  in  the  core  of  the  great  city  itself,  the  canker  of 
misery,  poverty,  and  vice  is  festering  still.  What  is  the 
use  of  eviction,  when  the  law  punishes  houselessness,  and 
the  Poor  Law  cannot  meet  any  sudden  demand,  nor 
maintain  any  continuous  claim  on  the  part  of  the  house- 
less ?  Summarily  to  thrust  a  score  or  so  of  wretched 
families  into  the  streets  is  to  make  them  either  criminals 
or  paupers.  They  must  find  some  place  of  shelter ;  and 
if  they  are  to  live  by  their  labour,  they  must  live  near 
their  labour,  the  wages  of  which  are,  at  best,  only  just 
sufficient  to  procure  for  them  necessary  food  and  cover- 
ing for  their  bodies. 

In  the  neighbourhood  to  which  I  have  already  referred, 
four  thousand  evictions  have  taken  place,  or,  at  any  rate, 
the  population  has  diminished  from  22,000  to  18,000,  be- 
cause of  a  small  section  of  a  large  puzzle  map  of  courts 
and  alleys  having  been  taken  down  in  order  to  build 
great  blocks  of  warehouses.  The  consequence  is,  that  in 
the  remaining  tangle  of  slums  the  people  herd  closer,  and 
that  a  large  number  of  poor  lodgers  have  gone  to  crowd 
other  tenements  not  far  distant,  and  which  were  already 
peopled  beyond  legal  measure. 

I  For  this  acreage  of  vice  and  wretchedness  of  which  I 
speak  is  close  to  the  great  city  thoroughfares — almost 
within  sound  of  Bow  Bells.  It  is  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  extent  each  way,  lying  between  the  Charter- 
house and  St.  Luke's,  close  to  the  new  meat  market  at 
Smithfield  on  one  side,  and  Finsbury  Square  on  the 
other.  One  entrance  to  it  is  directly  through  Golden 
Lane,  Barbican  ;  the  other  close  to  Bunhill  Fields  burial 
ground,  along  a  passage  which  bears  the  significant  name 
of  "  Chequer  Alley."  It  is  a  maze  of  intersecting  and 
interlocking  courts,    streets,  and  alleys,   some   of  them 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  233 

without  any  thoroughfare,  some  reached  by  ascending  or 
descending  steps,  many  of  them  mere  tanks,  the  walls  of 
which  are  represented  by  hovels  inhabited  by  costermon- 
gers,  French-polishers,  dock-labourers,  chair-makers, 
workers  at  all  kinds  of  underpaid  labour  and  poor  handi- 
crafts. Many  of  the  women  go  out  to  work  at  factories, 
or  at  charing,  and  the  children  are — or  at  least  were — 
left  to  the  evil  influences  of  the  streets,  till  another  and  a 
more  powerful  influence  began  to  operate,  slowly,  but 
with  the  impetus  of  faith  and  love,  to  touch  even  this 
neglected  and  miserable  quarter  of  London  with  "the 
light  that  lighteth  every  man." 

In  this  square  quarter  of  a  mile — which,  starting  from 
the  edge  of  Aldersgate,  stretches  to  the  further  main 
thoroughfare  abutting  on  the  pleasant  border  of  the  City 
Road,  and  includes  the  northern  end  of  Whitecross 
Street — there  are  eighty  public-houses  and  beer-shops  ! 

I  tell  you  this  much,  as  we  stand  here  at  the  entrance 
of  Golden  Lane,  but  I  have  no  intention  just  now  to  take 
you  on  a  casual  visit  either  to  the  dens  of  wretchedness 
and  infamy,  or  to  the  homes  where  poverty  abides.  I 
must  try  to  let  you  see  what  has  been  done,  and  is  still 
doing,  to  bring  to  both  that  Gospel  which  is  alone 
efficient  to  change  the  conditions,  by  changing  the  hearts 
and  motives  of  men.  I  may  well  avoid  any  description 
of  the  places  which  lie  on  either  hand,  for,  in  fact,  there 
is  nothing  picturesque  in  such  misery,  nothing  specially 
sensational  in  such  crime.  It  is  all  of  a  sordid  miserable 
sort ;  all  on  a  dreary  dead-level  of  wretchedness  and 
poverty,  full  of  poor  shifts  and  expedients,  or  of  mean 
brutality  and  indifference.  There  is  no  show-place  to 
which  you  could  be  taken,  as  it  is  said  curious  gentlemen 
were  at  one  time  conducted  to  the  dens  of  the  mendi- 


234  "  ABOUT  M Y  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:' 

cants,  thieves,  and  highwaymen  of  old  London.  Even  in 
the  tramps'  kitchen  the  orgies,  if  there  are  any,  are  of  so 
low  a  kind  that  they  would  be  depressing  in  their  mono- 
tonous degradation. 

Let  us  go  farther,  and  enter  this  strange  wilderness  by 
its  fitting  passage  of  Chequer  Alley,  so  that  we  may,  as  it 
were,  see  the  beginning  of  the  work  that  has  been  going 
on  with  more  or  less  power  for  more  than  thirty  years. 

I  think  I  have  some  acquaintance  with  what  are  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  the  water-side  popu- 
lation ;  have  lived  amidst  the  slums  of  Spitalfields,  and 
passed  nights  "  Whitechapel  way ;"  but  never  in  any  un- 
broken area  of  such  extent  have  I  seen  so  much  that  is 
suggestive  of  utter  poverty,  so  much  privation  of  the 
ordinary  means  of  health  and  decency,  as  on  a  journey 
about  this  district  which  I  long  ago  named  "  The 
Chequers."  Each  court  and  blind  alley  has  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  doorsteps,  the  same  square  areas  sur- 
rounded by  hovels  with  clothes'-lines  stretched  from 
house  to  house,  almost  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  one  solid  district,  almost  in  the  very 
centre  of  City  life,  that  is  so  bewildering,  and  wherein 
lies  its  terrible  distraction. 

The  labour  of  reformation  has  begun,  but  the  labourers 
are  few.  For  more  than  thirty  years  some  efforts  have 
been  going  on  to  redeem  this  neglected  and  unnoticed 
neighbourhood,  which  lies  so  near  to,  and  yet  so  far 
from  London's  heart. 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  235 

Let  it  be  noted  that  this  moral  effort  had  gone  on  for 
nearly  twenty-nine  years  before  any  very  definite 
attempt  was  made  to  improve  the  physical  condition  of 
the  place. 

In  1 841  a  tract  distributor,  Miss  Macarthy,  began  an 
organised  endeavour  to  teach  the  depraved  inhabitants  of 
Chequer  Alley.  In  1869,  a  sanitary  surveyor,  reporting 
on  one  of  the  courts  of  this  foul  district,  recommended 
that  the  premises  there  should  be  demolished  under  the 
"  Artisans'  and  Labourers'  Dwellings  Act,"  because  the 
floors  and  ceilings  were  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  a  foul 
and  failing  water  supply. 

The  "  pulling-down  "  remedy,  without  any  simultane- 
ous building  up,  has  been  extended  since  then  in  a 
locality  where  a  model  lodging-house,  which  has  been 
erected,  has  stood  for  years  almost  unoccupied,  because 
like  all  model  lodging-houses  in  such  neighbourhoods, 
neither  the  provisions  nor  the  rentals  are  adapted  to 
meet  the  wants  and  the  means  of  the  poorest,  of  whom* 
as  I  have  already  said,  a  whole  family  cannot  afford  to 
pay  more  than  the  rental  for  a  single  room,  or  two  rooms 
at  the  utmost. 

But  we  are  wandering  away  from  the  work  that  we 
came  to  see.  Look  at  that  wistful  young  native,  stand- 
ing there  quite  close  to  the  mouth  of  Chequer  Alley. 
Ask  him  what  is  that  sound  of  children's  voices  from  a 
casually-opened  doorway,  and  he  will  tell  you  "  It's  our 
school ;  yer  kin  go  in,  sir,  if  yer  like — anybody  kin."  As 
the  name  of  the  institution  is  "  Hope  Schools  for  All," 


236  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THER'S  BUSINESS:' 

his  invitation  is  doubtless  authorised,  and  we  may  well 
feel  that  we  have  made  a  mistake  in  thinking  of  the 
Italian  poet's  hopeless  line,  for  out  of  the  doorway  there 
comes  a  sound  of  singing,  and  inside  the  doorway  is  a 
room  containing  fifty  or  sixty  "  infants,"  seated  on  low 
forms,  and  many  of  them  such  bright,  rosy — yes,  rosy — 
clean — yes,  comparatively,  if  not  superlatively  clean — 
little  creatures,  that  hope  itself  springs  to  fresh  life  in 
their  presence.  It  is  thirty-four  years  since  Miss 
Macarthy,  with  an  earnest  desire  to  initiate  some  work  of 
charity  and  mercy,  resolved  to  become  a  distributor  of 
tracts,  and  the  district  she  chose  was  this  same  foul 
tangle  to  which  I  have  asked  you  to  accompany  me. 
Bad  as  the  whole  neighbourhood  is  now,  it  was  worse 
then.  It  was  never  what  is  called  a  thief-quarter,  but 
many  juvenile  thieves  haunted  it ;  and  the  men  were  as 
ruffianly  and  abusive,  the  women  as  violent  and  evil- 
tongued  as  any  who  could  be  found  in  all  London. 
Instead  of  being  paved,  and  partially  and  insufficiently 
drained,  it  was  a  foetid  swamp,  with  here  and  there  a 
pool  where  ducks  swam,  while  the  foul  odours  of  the 
place  were  suffocating.  No  constable  dare  enter  far  into 
the  maze  without  a  companion.  But  the  tract  distributor 
ventured.  In  the  midst  of  an  epidemic  of  typhus,  or 
what  is  known  as  "  poverty "  fever,  she  went  about 
&mong  the  people,  and  strove  to  fix  their  attention  on  the 
message  that  she  carried.  The  religious  services  com- 
menced in  a  rat-catcher's  "  front  parlour,"  and  at  first  the 
congregation  broke  into  the  hymns  with  scraps  and 
choruses  of  songs.  The  crowd  which  collected  outside  not 
only  interrupted  the  proceedings,  but  threatened  those 
who  conducted  them  with  personal  violence,  and  even 
assaulted  them,  and  heaped  insult  upon  them  ;  but  the 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  237 

lady  who  had  put  her  hand  to  the  plough  would  not  turn 
back.  In  the  midst  of  her  patient  and  difficult  work  she 
herself  was  stricken  down  with  fever.  She  had  visited 
and  tended  those  who  were  suffering.  When  the  ques- 
tion was  asked  what  had  become  of  her,  the  barbarous 
people  learnt  that  she  was  like  to  die.  Perhaps  this 
touched  the  hearts  of  some  of  them,  for  she  had  begun 
to  live  down  the  brutal  opposition  of  those  who  could  not 
believe  in  unselfish  endeavours  to  benefit  them.  She  re- 
covered, however ;  and  supported  by  others,  who  gave 
both  money  and  personal  effort,  the  beneficent  work 
went  on. 

In  this  large  room  where  the  children  are  singing  we 
have  an  example  of  what  has  been  effected.  Some  of 
the  little  creatures  are  pale,  and  have  that  wistful  look 
that  goes  to  the  heart ;  but  there  are  few  of  them  that 
have  not  clean  faces,  and  who  do  not  show  in  the  scanty 
little  dresses  some  attempt  at  decent  preparation  for 
meeting  "  the  guv'ness." 

There  is  a  school  for  elder  children  also  ;  and  in  the 
ramshackle  old  house  where  the  classes  are  held  there 
are  appliances  which  mark  the  wide  application  of  the 
beneficent  effort  that  has  grown  slowly  but  surely,  not 
only  in  scope,  but  in  its  quiet  influence  upon  the  people 
amidst  whom  it  was  inaugurated.  Yonder,  in  a  kind  of 
covered  yard,  is  a  huge  copper,  the  honoured  source  of 
those  "  penny  dinners,"  and  those  quarts  and  gallons  of 
soup  which  have  been  such  a  boon  to  the  neighbourhood, 
where  food  is  scarce,  and  dear.  Then  there  was  the 
Christmas  dinner,  at  which  some  hundreds  of  little  guests 
were  supplied  with  roast  meat  and  pudding,  evidences  of 
how  much  may  be  effected  within  a  very  small  space. 
Indeed,  this  Hope  School,  with  its  two  or  three  rooms. 


233  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS? 

is  at  work  day  and  night ;  for  not  only  are  the  children 
taught — children  not  eligible  for  those  Board  schools 
which,  unless  the  board  itself  mitigates  its  technical 
demands,  will  shut  up  this  and  similar  institutions  before 
any  provision  is  made  for  transferring  the  children  to  the 
care  of  a  Government  department  —  but  there  are 
"  mothers'  meetings,"  sewing  classes,  where  poor  women 
can  obtain  materials  at  cost  price,  and  be  taught  to 
make  them  into  articles  of  clothing.  There  are  also 
adult  classes,  and  Sunday  evening  services  for  those  who 
would  never  appear  at  church  or  chapel  but  for  such  an 
easy  transition  from  their  poor  homes  to  the  plain  neigh- 
bourly congregation  assembled  there.  There  are  even- 
ings, too,  when  lectures,  dissolving  views,  social  teas,  and 
pleasant  friendly  meetings  bring  the  people  together 
with  humanising  influences.  It  becomes  a  very  serious 
question  for  the  London  School  Board  to  consider  whether, 
by  demanding  that  ragged  schools  such  as  this  shall  be 
closed  if  they  do  not  show  a  certain  technical  standard 
of  teaching,  the  means  of  partially  feeding  and  clothing, 
which  are  in  such  cases  inseparable  from  instructing,  shall 
be  destroyed. 

But  here  is  a  youthful  guide — a  shambling,  shock- 
headed  lad,  with  only  three-quarters  of  a  pair  of  shoes, 
and  without  a  cap,  who  is  to  be  our  guide  to  another 
great  work,  on  the  Golden  Lane  side  of  this  great  zigzag, 
to  the  "  Costermongers'  Mission,"  in  fact.  You  may 
follow  him  with  confidence,  for  he  is  a  Hope  School-boy 
— and  that  means  something,  even  in  Chequer  Alley. 

Still  threading  our  way  through  those  dim  alleys,  where 
each  one  looks  like  a  cul-de-sac,  but  yet  may  be  the  de- 
vious entrance  to  another  more  foul  and  forbidding,  we 
leave  the  "Hope-for-All"  Mission  Room  resounding  with 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  239 

infant  voices,  all  murmuring  the  simple  lessons  of  the 
day.  That  room  is  seldom  empty,  because  of  the  evening 
school  where  a  large  class  of  older  pupils  are  taught, 
reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic ;  the  adult  class,  and  the 
"mothers'  meeting,"  to  which  poor  women  are  invited  that 
they  may  be  assisted  to  make  garments  for  themselves 
and  their  children  from  materials  furnished  for  them  at  a 
cheap  rate  in  such  quantities  as  their  poor  savings  can 
purchase.  The  visiting  "  Bible  woman"  is  the  chief  agent 
in  these  works  of  mercy,  since  she  brings  parents  and 
children  to  the  school,  and  reports  cases  of  severe  distress 
to  be  relieved  when  there  are  funds  for  the  purpose.  Not 
only  by  teaching  and  sewing,  however,  are  the  hopeful  in- 
fluences of  the  place  supported,  for,  as  I  have  said  already, 
in  this  big  room  the  people  of  the  district  are  invited 
to  assemble  to  listen  to  lectures,  readings,  and  music,  to 
see  dissolving  views ;  and  in  the  summer,  when  fields  are 
in  their  beauty  and  the  hedge-rows  are  full  of  glory,  there 
is  an  excursion  into  the  country  for  the  poor,  little,  pallid 
children,  while,  strangest  sight  of  all,  a  real  "flower 
show"  is,  or  was,  held  in  Chequer  Alley.  One  could 
almost  pity  the  flowers,  if  we  had  any  pity  to  spare  from 
the  stunted  buds  and  blossoms  of  humanity  who  grow 
pale  and  sicken  and  so  often  die  in  this  foul  neighbour- 
hood. 

But  we  have  strange  sights  yet  to  see,  so  let  us  con- 
tinue our  excursion  in  and  out,  and  round  and  round,  not 
without  some  feeling  of  giddiness  and  sickness  of  heart, 
through  the  "  Pigeons  " — a  tavern,  the  passage  of  which 
is  itself  a  connecting  link  between  two  suspicious-looking 
courts — round  by  beershops.  all  blank  and  beetling,  and 
silent ;  past  low-browed  doorways  and  dim-curtained 
windows  of  tramps'  kitchens,  and  the  abodes  of  more 


240  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS." 

poverty,  misery,  and  it  may  be  crime,  than  you  will  find 
within  a  similar  space  in  any  neighbourhood  in  London, 
or  out  of  it,  except  perhaps  in  about  five  streets  "  down 
East,"  or  in  certain  dens  of  Liverpool  and  Manchester. 

One  moment.  You  see  where  a  great  sudden  gap 
appears  to  have  been  made  on  one  side  of  Golden  Lane. 
That  gap  represents  houses  pulled  down  to  erect  great 
blocks  of  building  for  warehouses  or  factories,  and  it  also 
represents  the  space  in  which  above  4,000  people  lived 
when  the  population  of  this  square  quarter  of  mile  of 
poverty  and  dirt  was  22,000  souls.  This  will  give  you 
some  idea  of  the  consequences  of  making  what  are  called 
"clean  sweeps,"  by  demolishing  whole  neighbourhoods 
before  other  dwellings  are  provided  for  the  evicted 
tenants.  One  result  of  this  method  of  improving  the 
dwellings  of  the  poor  is  that  the  people  crowd  closer, 
either  in  their  own  or  in  some  adjacent  neighbourhood, 
where  rents  are  low  and  landlords  are  not  particular  how 
many  inmates  lodge  in  a  single  room.  Remember  that 
whole  families  can  only  earn  just  enough  to  keep  them 
from  starving,  and  cannot  afford  to  pay  more  than  half- 
a-crown  or  three-and-sixpence  a  week  for  rent.  They 
must  live  near  their  work,  or  they  lose  time,  and  time 
means  pence,  and  pence  represent  the  difference  between 
eating  and  fasting. 

"  The  model  lodging-house !"  See,  there  is  one,  and  it 
is  nearly  empty.  How  should  it  be  otherwise  ?  The 
proprietors  of  such  places,  whether  they  be  philan- 
thropists or  speculators — and  they  are  not  likely  to  be 
the  latter — can  never  see  a  return  of  any  profitable  per- 
centage on  their  outlay  while  they  enforce  necessary 
sanitary  laws.  The  top-rooms  are  half-a-crown  a  week 
each,  and  the  lower  "sets"  range  from  about  six  shillings 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  241 

for  two  to  eight-and-sixpence  for  three  rooms.  The  con- 
sequence is  that  the  few  tenants  in  this  particular  building- 
are  frequently  changing  their  quarters.  Some  of  them 
try  it,  and  fall  into  arrear,  and  are  ejected,  or  want  to 
introduce  whole  families  into  a  single  room,  as  they  do 
in  these  surrounding  courts  and  alleys,  and  this,  of 
course,  is  not  permitted.  Imagine  one  vast  building 
crowded  at  the  same  rate  as  some  of  these  two-storeyed 
houses  are !  Ask  the  missionary,  whose  duty  takes  her 
up  scores  of  creaking  staircases,  to  places  where  eight  or 
ten  human  beings  eat,  drink,  sleep,  and  even  work,  in 
one  small  room  —  where  father,  mother,  children,  and 
sometimes  also  a  brother  or  sister-in-law,  herd  together, 
that  they  may  live  on  the  common  earnings ;  places 
where  children  are  born,  and  men,  women,  and  children 
die ;  and  the  new-born  babe  must  be  clothed  by  the  aid 
of  the  "maternity  box,"  and  the  dead  must  be- buried  by 
the  help  of  money  advanced  to  pay  for  the  plainest 
decent  funeral. 

I  do  not  propose  to  take  you  to  any  of  these  sights. 
You  could  do  little  good  unless  you  became  familiar  with 
them,  and  entered  into  the  work  of  visitation.  Even  in  the 
published  reports  of  the  organisation  to  which  we  are 
now  going,  the  "cases"  are  not  dwelt  upon,  only  one  or 
two  are  given  from  the  experiences  of  the  missionary, 
and  she  speaks  of  them  simply  as  examples  of  the  kind 
of  destitution  which  characterises  a  district  where  deplor- 
able poverty  is  the  result  sometimes  of  drink,  or  what, 
for  want  of  a  word  applicable  to  the  saving  of  pence,  is 
termed  improvidence;  but  frequently  also,  because  of  sick- 
ness, and  the  want  even  of  poorly-paid  employment.  "In 
such  cases,"  says  the  report,  "almost  everything  is  parted 
with  to  procure  food  and  shelter  outside  the  workhouse." 

16 


242  <•'  ABO  UT  MY  FA  THERS  B USINESS* 

One  of  the  two  "ordinary"  cases  referred  to  was  that 
of  a  poor  woman  who  was  "found  lying  on  a  sack  of 
shavings  on  the  floor,  with  an  infant  two  days  old  ;  also 
a  child  lying  dead  from  fever,  and  two  other  children 
crying  for  food.  None  had  more  than  a  solitary  garment 
on.  The  smell  of  the  room  was  such  that  the  missionary 
was  quite  overcome  until  she  had  opened  the  window. 
Clean  linen  was  obtained,  and  their  temporal  and  spiritual 
wants  at  once  looked  after.''  This  was  in  the  Report  of 
above  a  year  ago  ;  but  cases  only  just  less  distressing 
occur  daily  still.  This  foul  and  neglected  district,  which 
lies  like  an  ulcer  upon  the  great  opulent  city,  the 
centre  of  civilization  and  benevolence,  seems  to  be  as  far 
from  us  as  though  it  were  a  part  of  some  savage  or  semi- 
heathen  land  under  British  influence.  Indeed,  in  the 
latter  case,  there  would  be  a  probability  of  more  earnest 
effort  on  behalf  of  the  benighted  people,  on  whose  behalf 
meetings  would  perhaps  be  held,  and  a  committee  of 
inquiry  and  distribution  appointed.  Still,  let  us  be 
thankful  that  something  is  done.  Twenty-nine  poor 
mothers  have  had  the  benefit  of  the  maternity  fund  and 
clothing,  the  Report  tells  us.  u  They  are  very  grateful 
for  this  assistance  in  their  terrible  need.  Frequently  the 
distress  is  so  great  that  two  changes  of  clothing  are  given 
to  mother  and  babe,  or  they  would  be  almost  entirely 
denuded  when  the  time  arrived  for  returning  the  boxes. 
Our  lady  subscribers  at  a  distance  may  be  glad  to  know 
that  blankets,  sheets,  flannel  petticoats,  warm  shawls,  and 
babies'  clothing  will  always  be  acceptable."  Thus  writes 
Mrs.  Orsman  on  the  subject,  for  the  mission  is  known  as 
the  Golden  Lane  Mission,  and  more  popularly  as  u  Mr. 
Orsman's  Mission  to  the  Costermongers."  Perhaps  these 
words  scarcely  denote  the  scope  of  the  work;  but  coster- 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  243 

mongers  must  be  taken  as  a  representative  term  in  a 
district  where,  in  an  area  of  a  square  quarter  of  a 
mile,  there  are,  or  recently  were,  eighty  public-houses 
and  beershops,  and  a  dense  mass  of  inhabitants,  including 
street-traders  or  hucksters,  labourers,  charwomen,  road- 
sweepers,  drovers,  French  polishers,  artificial  flower- 
makers,  toy-makers,  with  what  is  now  a  compact  and 
really  representative  body  of  costermongers,  working 
earnestly  enough  to  keep  to  the  right  way,  and,  as  they 
always  did,  forming  a  somewhat  distinctive  part  of  the 
population. 

Sixteen  years  ago,  Mr.  Orsman  began  the  work  of 
endeavouring  to  carry  the  gospel  to  the  rough-and-ready 
savages  of  this  benighted  field  for  missionary  enterprise. 
He  held  an  official  appointment,  and  this  was  his  business 
"  after  office  hours."  About  the  results  of  his  own  labour 
he  and  his  Reports  are  modestly  reticent,  but  at  all 
events  it  began  to  bear  fruit.  Others  joined  in  it ;  a 
regular  mission  was  established,  and,  with  vigorous 
growth,  shot  out  several  branches,  so  wisely  uniting  what 
may  be  called  the  secular  or  temporal  with  the  spiritual 
and  religious  interest,  that  the  Bread  of  Life  was  not 
altogether  separated  from  that  need  for  the  bread  which 
perishes.  These  branches  are  full  of  sap  to-day,  and  one 
of  them  is  also  full  of  promising  buds  and  blossoms,  if 
we  are  to  judge  of  the  rows  of  ragged— but  not  unhappy 
— urchins  who  fill  this  large  room  or  hall  of  the  Mission- 
house. 

It  is  only  the  first-floor  of  two  ordinary  houses  knocked 
into  one,  but  a  great  work  is  going  on.  The  parochial 
school  was  once  held  here,  and  now  the  room  is  full  of 
children  who  might  still  be  untaught  but  for  the  effort 
which  made  the  Ragged  School  a  first  consideration  in 

16 — 2 


244  ''ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS:1 

an  endeavour  to  redeem  the  whole  social  life  of  the  dis- 
drict.  Wisely  enough,  the  School  Board  accepted  the  aid 
which  this  free  day-school  for  ragged  and  nearly  desti- 
tute children  affords  to  a  class  which  the  Education  Act 
has  not  yet  taught  us  how  to  teach. 

In  four  years,  out  of  ninety-five  boys  and  girls  who 
entered  situations  from  this  school,  only  one  was  dis- 
missed for  dishonesty,  and  it  was  afterwards  found  that 
he  was  the  dupe  of  the  foreman  of  the  place  at  which  he 
worked. 

Well  may  Mr.  Harwood,  the  school  superintendent, 
be  glad  in  the  labour  that  he  has  learnt  to  love  in  spite  of 
all  the  sordid  surroundings.  There  is  life  in  the  midst 
of  these  dim  courts — a  ragged-school  and  a  church, 
which  is  poor,  but  not,  strictly  speaking,  ragged.  In  fact, 
"  the  patching  class "  for  ragged  boys,  which  meets  on 
Thursdays,  from  five  to  seven  in  the  afternoon,  remedies 
even  the  tattered  garments  of  the  poor  little  fellows,  who, 
having  only  one  suit,  must  take  off  their  habiliments  in 
order  to  mend  them.  Occasional  gifts  of  second-hand 
clothes  are  amongst  the  most  useful  stock  of  the  school- 
master, as  anybody  may  believe  who  sees  the  long  rows 
of  children,  many  of  them,  like  our  juvenile  guide,  with 
two  odd  boots,  which  are  mere  flaps  of  leather,  and  attire 
which  it  would  be  exaggeration  to  call  a  jacket  and 
trousers. 

The  school-room  is  also  the  church  and  the  lecture- 
hall.  It  will  hold  300  people  ;  and  the  Sunday-evening 
congregation  fills  it  thoroughly,  while,  on  week-nights, 
special  services,  and  frequently  lectures,  entertainments, 
and  attractive  social  gatherings  bring  the  costers  and 
their  friends  in  great  force. 

The  chief  of  the  costermongers  is  the  Earl  of  Shaftes- 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEEDY.  245 

bury;  and  here,  standing  as  it  were  at  livery  in  a  quiet 
corner  of  a  shanty  close  to  the  coal-shed,  is  the  earl's 
barrow,  emblazoned  with  his  crest.  This  remarkable  ve- 
hicle, and  a  donkey  complimentarily  named  the  "Earl," 
which  took  a  prize  at  a  Golden  Lane  donkey  show,  desig- 
nate his  lordship  as  president  of  the  "  Barrow  Club,"  a 
flourishing  institution,  intended  to  supersede  the  usurious 
barrow-lenders,  who  once  let  out  these  necessary  adjuncts 
to  the  costermongering  business  at  a  tremendous  hire. 
Now  the  proprietors  of  the  barrows,  going  on  the  hire 
and  ultimate  purchase-system,  are  prospering  greatly. 
There  are  free  evening  classes,  mothers'  meetings,  a  free 
lending  library,  a  free  singing  class,  a  penny  savings 
bank,  dinners  to  destitute  children,  numbering  more  than 
10,000  a  year,  a  soup-kitchen,  tea-meetings,  and  other 
agencies,  all  of  which  are  kept  going  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  within  the  narrow  limits  of  these  two  houses  made 
into  one.  It  is  here,  too,  that  the  annual  meeting  is  held, 
an  account  of  which  every  year  filters  through  the  news- 
papers to  the  outer  world — "The  Costermongers'  Annual 
Tea-Party."  The  records  of  this  united  and  earnest 
assembly  have  been  so  recently  given  to  the  public,  that 
I  need  not  repeat  them  to  you  as  we  stand  here  in  the 
lower  rooms,  whence  the  big  cakes,  the  basins  of  tea,  the 
huge  sandwiches  of  bread  and  beef,  were  conveyed  to 
the  200  guests.  But  as  we  depart,  after  shaking  Mr. 
Harwood  by  the  hand,  let  me  remind  you  that  it  has 
been  by  the  hearty,  human,  living  influence  of  religion 
that  these  results  have  been  effected.  The  stones  of 
scientific  or  secular  controversy  have  not  been  offered 
instead  of  food  spiritual  and  temporal.  The  mission- 
hall  has  been  made  the  centre  ;  and  from  it  has  spread 
various  healing,  purifying,  ameliorating  influences.    From 


246  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHERS  BUSINESS." 

this  we  may  well  take  a  lesson  for  the  benefit  of  another 
organised  effort  which  appeals  to  us  for  help — that  of 
the  London  City  Mission.  This  institution  is  trying  to 
effect  for  various  districts  and  several  classes  of  the  poor 
and  ignorant  in  and  about  London  that  introduction  of 
religious  teaching  which  Mr.  Orsman  began  with  amongst 
the  costermongers  and  others  in  the  benighted  locality 
where  now  a  clear  light  has  begun  to  shine. 

At  a  recent  meeting  of  the  promoters  of  the  City  Mis- 
sion work,  held  at  the  Mansion  House,  it  was  stated  that 
the  427  missionaries  then  employed  by  the  society  were 
chosen  without  distinction,  except  that  of  fitness  for  the 
office,  from  Churchmen,  Presbyterians,  Congregation- 
alists,  Wesleyans,  and  Baptists,  while  the  examining  and 
appointing  committee  were  composed  of  thirteen  clergy- 
men of  the  Established  Church  and  thirteen  Dissenting 
ministers. 

Anybody  who  is  accustomed  to  visit  the  worst  neigh- 
bourhoods of  London  will  know  that  these  missionaries 
go  where  the  regular  clergy  cannot  easily  penetrate,  and 
where  even  the  parish  doctor  seldom  lingers.  Every 
missionary  visits  once  a  month  about  500  families,  or 
2,000  persons.  They  read  the  Scriptures,  exhort  their 
listeners,  hold  prayer  and  Bible  meetings,  distribute 
copies  of  the  Scriptures,  see  that  children  go  to  school,, 
address  the  poor  in  rooms  when  they  cannot  persuade 
them  to  go  to  church,  visit  and  pray  with  the  dying, 
lend  books,  hold  open-air  services,  endeavour  to  reclaim 
drunkards  (1,546  were  so  restored  during  the  last  year), 
admonish  and  frequently  reclaim  the  vicious,  raise  the 
fallen,  and  place  them  in  asylums  or  induce  them  to 
return  to  their  homes,  and  work  constantly  for  the  great 
harvest  of  God  to  which  they  are  appointed. 


WITH  THE  POOR  AND  NEED  Y.  247 

Then  there  are  special  missionaries  appointed  to  visit 
bakers,  cabmen,  drovers,  omnibus  men,  soldiers,  sailors, 
and  foreigners  of  various  countries.  They  also  go  to 
tanneries,  the  docks,  workhouses,  hospitals,  and  other 
places  ;  and  there  is  a  vast  harvest  yet,  without  a  sickle 
to  reap  even  a  single  sheaf.  When  will  the  time  come, 
that,  to  the  means  for  carrying  the  sustaining  comfort  of 
the  Word  to  men's  souls,  will  be  added  some  means  of 
helping  them  to  realise  it  by  such  temporal  aid  as  will 
raise  them  from  the  want  which  paralyses  and  the  degra- 
dation which  benumbs? 


GIVING  THE  FEEBLE  STRENGTH. 


HAVE  had  occasion  lately  to  take  you  with 
me  to  some  of  the  worst  "parts  of  London.' 
The  phrase  has  become  so  common,  that 
there  is  some  difficulty  in  deciding  what  it 
means  ;  and  we  are  obliged  to  come  to  the  conclusion, 
that  in  every  quarter  of  this  great  metropolis,  large  and 
lofty  buildings,  splendid  mansions,  gorgeous  shops,  and 
even  stately  palaces,  are  but  symbols  of  the  partial  and 
imperfect  development  of  true  national  greatness,  and 
can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  complete  evidences  of 
genuine  civilisation,  if  by  that  word  we  are  to  mean  more 
than  was  expressed  by  it  in  heathen  times,  and  amidst 
pagan  people.  Perhaps  there  is  no  more  terrible  reflec- 
tion, amidst  all  the  pomp  and  magnificence,  the  vast 
commercial  enterprise  and  constantly  accumulating 
wealth  of  this  mighty  city,  than  that  here  we  may  also 
find  the  extremes  of  want  and  misery,  of  vice  and  poverty, 
of  ignorance  and  suffering.  Side  by  side  with  all  that 
makes  material  greatness —  riches,  learning,  luxury,  extra- 
vagance— are  examples  of  the  deepest  necessity  and 
degradation.  "  The  rich  and  the  poor "  do  indeed 
"  meet  together  "  in  a  very  sad  sense.      It  would  be  well 


GIVING  THE  FEEBLE  STRENGTH.  249 

if  the  former  would  complete  the  text  for  themselves, 
and  take  its  meaning  deep  into  their  hearts. 

There  is  reason  for  devout  thankfulness,  however,  that 
here  and  there  amidst  the  abodes  of  rich  and  poor  alike, 
some  building  with  special  characteristics  may  be  seen ; 
that  not  only  the  church  but  the  charity  which  represents 
practical  religion  does  make  vigorous  protest  against  the 
merely  selfish  heaping-up  of  riches  without  regard  to  the 
cry  of  the  poor.  There  are  few  neighbourhoods  in  which  a 
Refuge  for  the  homeless,  a  soup-kitchen,  a  ragged-school, 
a  "  servants  home,"  an  orphanage,  a  hospital  or  some 
asylum  for  the  sick  and  suffering,  does  not  relieve  that 
sense  of  neglect  and  indifference  which  is  the  first  pain- 
ful impression  of  the  thoughtful  visitor  to  those  "  worst 
quarters,"  which  yet  lie  close  behind  the  grand  thorough- 
fares and  splendid  edifices  that  distinguish  aristocratic 
and  commercial  London. 

I  have  said  enough  for  the  present  about  those  poverty- 
haunted  districts  of  Shoreditch,  Spitalfields,  and  Bethnal 
Green,  to  warrant  me  in  taking  you  through  them 
without  further  comment  than  suffices  to  call  your  atten- 
tion to  the  poorly-paid  industries,  the  want  and  suffering, 
and  the  too  frequent  neglect  of  the  means  of  health  and 
cleanliness  which  unhappily  distinguish  them  and  the  sur- 
rounding neighbourhoods  lying  eastward.  The  weaver's 
colony  can  now  scarcely  be  said  to  survive  the  changes 
wrought  by  the  removal  of  an  entire  industry  from  Spital- 
fields to  provincial  manufactories,  and  the  vast  importa- 
tions of  foreign  silks,  and  yet  there  is  in  this  part  of 
London  a  great  population  of  workers  at  callings  which 
are  scarcely  better  paid  than  silk  weaving  had  come  to 
be,  previous  to  its  comparative  disappearance. 

Marvellous  changes  have  been  effected  in  the  way  of 


2lo  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS* 

buildings  and  improvements  during  the  last  thirty  years, 
but  much  of  the  poverty  and  sickness  that  belonged  to 
these  neighbourhoods  remain.  The  looms  may  be  silent 
in  the  upper  workshops  with  their  wide  leaden  casements, 
but  the  labour  by  which  the  people  live  seldom  brings 
higher  wages  than  suffice  for  mere  subsistence.  The 
great  building  in  which  treasures  of  art  and  science  are 
collected  is  suggestive  of  some  kind  of  recognition  of  the 
need  of  the  inhabitants  for  rational  recreation  and  in- 
struction, and  what  is  perhaps  more  to  the  purpose,  it  is 
also  a  recognition  of  their  desire  for  both  ;  but  it  cannot 
be  denied  that  the  recognition  has  come  late,  and  has 
not  been  completely  accompanied  by  those  provisions 
for  personal  comfort,  health,  and  decency,  which  a 
stringent  application  of  existing  laws  might  long  ago 
have  ensured  in  neighbourhoods  that  for  years  were 
suffered  to  remain  centres  of  pestilence. 

The  greatest  change  ever  effected  in  this  quarter  of 
London  was  that  which  followed  the  formation  of 
Victoria  Park.  That  magnificent  area,  with  its  lakes  and 
islands,  its  glorious  flower-beds  and  plantations,  its 
cricket-ground  and  great  expanse  of  open  field,  made 
Bethnal  Green  famous.  There  had  always  been  a  fine 
stretch  of  open  country  beyond  what  was  known  as  "  the 
Green,"  on  which  the  building  of  the  Museum  now 
stands.  A  roadway  between  banks  and  hedges  skirting 
wide  fields  led  to  the  open  space  where  a  queer  old 
mansion  could  be  seen  amidst  a  few  tall  trees,  while 
beyond  this  again,  across  the  canal  bridge,  were  certain 
country  hostelries,  one  of  them  with  what  was,  in  that 
day,  a  famous  u  tea-garden ;"  and,  farther  on,  a  few 
farms  and  some  large  old-fashioned  private  residences 
stood  amidst  meadows,  gardens,  and  cattle  pastures,  on 


GIVING  THE  FEEBLE  STRENGTH.  251 

either  side  of  the  winding  road  leading  away  to  the 
Hackney  Marshes  and  the  low-lying  fields  beyond  the 
old  village  of  Homerton.  It  was  on  a  large  portion  of 
this  rural  area  that  Victoria  Park  was  founded.  Tavern 
and  farmhouse  disappeared;  the  canal  bridge  was  made 
ornamental ;  and  just  beyond  the  queer  old  mansion  that 
stood  by  the  roadway,  the  great  stone  and  iron  gates  of 
"  the  people's  pleasure-ground  "  were  erected. 

Now,  the  mansion,  to  which  I  have  already  twice 
referred,  was  in  fact  one  of  the  few  romantic  buildings 
of  the  district,  for  it  was  what  remained  of  the  house  of 
the  persecuting  Bishop  Bonner,  and  the  four  most  pro- 
minent of  the  tall  trees — those  having  an  oblong  or  pit 
excavation  of  the  soil  at  the  foot  of  each — were  tradition- 
ally the  landmarks  of  the  martyrdom  of  four  sisters 
who  were  there  burnt  at  the  stake  and  buried  in  graves 
indicated  by  the  hollows  in  the  ground,  which  popular 
superstition  had  declared  could  never  be  filled  up. 

That  they  have  been  filled  up  long  ago,  and  that  on 
the  site  of  the  ancient  house  itself  another  great  building 
has  been  erected,  you  may  see  to-day  as  we  stand  at  the 
end  of  the  long  road  leading  to  the  entrance  of  "  the 
people's  park." 

The  abode  of  cruelty  and  bigotry  has  been  replaced 
by  one  of  the  most  truly  representative  of  all  our  bene- 
volent institutions.  The  graves  of  the  martyred  sisters- 
might  well  take  a  new  meaning  if  the  spot  could  now  be 
discovered  in  the  broad  and  beautifully  planted  garden, 
where  feeble  men  and  women  sun  themselves  into  re- 
turning life  and  strength  amidst  the  gentle  summer  air 
blowing  straight  across  from  the  broad  woods  of  Epping 
and  Hainault  miles  away. 

The  people's  playground  is  fitly  consummated   by  the 


252  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THER'S  BUSINESS:' 

people's  hospital.     That  the  City  of  London  Hospital  for 
Diseases  of  the  Chest,  Victoria  Park,  might  well  be  called 
"the  people's,"  is  shown,  not  because  it  is  supported  by 
state  aid  or  by  charitable  endowment,  on  the  contrary,  it 
depends   entirely  on  those  voluntary  contributions  and 
subscriptions  which  have  hitherto  enabled  it  successfully 
to  carry  on  a  noble  work,  but  yet  have  only  just  sufficed 
to  supply  its  needs,  "  from  hand  to  mouth."     Yet  it  is 
essentially  devoted  to  patients  who  belong  to  the  working 
population.     Like   the  park   itself  it  attracts  crowds  of 
visitors,  not  only   from  the  City,  from   Bethnal   Green, 
Mile  End,  Poplar,  Islington,  Camden  Town,  and  other 
parts  of  London,  but  even  from  distant  places  whence 
excursionists  come  to  see  and  to  enjoy  it.     This  hospital 
receives  patients  from  every  part  of  London,  and  even 
from  distant  country  places.     There  were  seven  inmates 
from  York  last  year,  as  well   as  some  from   Somerset, 
Hereford,    Derby,    Lincolnshire,    Lancashire,    Norfolk, 
Suffolk,  Huntingdon,  Northampton,  Wiltshire,  and  other 
counties  ;  so  that  in   fact  the  districts  of  Bethnal  Green, 
Spitalfields,    and   Shoreditch,  represented    only   a  very 
small  proportion  of  the  781  in-patients  and   the    13,937 
out-patients,  who  were   admitted  to   medical  treatment 
during   the  twelve  months.     More  than  this,  however, 
amongst    the    contributions   which   are    made   for   the 
support  of  this  hospital,  there   must   be   reckoned  those 
collected  by  working  men   of  the  district  in  their  clubs 
and  associations,  in  token  of  the  appreciation  of  benefits 
bestowed   by   such    an   institution   to    failing  men  and 
women,  wives   and  shopmates  and  relatives,  who  being 
threatened  or  actually  stricken  down  with  one  of  those 
diseases  which  sap  the  life  and  leave  the  body  prostrate, 
require  prompt  skill  and   medical  aid,  even  if  they  are 


GIVING  THE  FEEBLE  STRENGTH.  253 

not  in  absolute  need  of  nourishing  food  and  alleviating 
rest. 

Standing  here,  in  front  of  this  broad  noble  building,  with 
its  many  windows,  its  picturesque  front  of  red  brick  and 
white  stone,  its  central  tower,  its  sheltered  garden-walks, 
and  pleasant  lawn,  we  may  well  feel  glad  to  hear  that 
the  work  done  within  its  wards  is  known  and  recognised. 
What  a  work  it  is  can  only  be  estimated  by  those  who 
remember  how  fell  is  the  disease  from  which  so  many  of 
the  patients  suffer,  and  how  great  a  thing  it  has  been, 
even  where  cures  could  not  be  effected,  usefully  to  pro- 
long the  lives  of  hundreds  of  those  who  must  have  died 
but  for  timely  aid.  Nay,  even  at  the  least,  the  allevia- 
tion of  suffering  to  those  on  whom  death  had  already 
laid  his  hand  has  been  no  small  thing  ;  and  when  we 
know  that  of  240,000  out-patients  who  have  received 
advice  and  medicines,  and  10,400  in-patients  whose 
cases  have  warranted  their  admission  to  the  wards,  a 
large  number  of  actual  cures  have  been  effected  since  the 
establishment  of  this  hospital,  we  are  entitled  to  regard 
the  institution  as  one  of  the  most  useful  that  we  have 
ever  visited  together. 

Let  us  enter,  not  by  the  handsome  broad  portico  in  the 
centre  of  the  building,  but  at  the  out-patients'  door,  in 
order  that  we  may  see  the  two  waiting-rooms,  where 
men  and  women  bring  their  letters  of  admission,  or  attend 
to  see  one  of  the  three  consulting  physicians.  Of  these 
three  gentlemen  the  senior  is  Dr.  Peacock,  of  whom  it 
may  be  said  that  he  is  the  organiser  of  the  hospital,  the 
efficiency  of  which  is  mainly  due  to  his  direction.  This 
is  no  small  praise,  I  am  aware,  but  there  are  so  many 
evidences  of  thorough  unity  and  completeness  in  all 
the  details  of  management  that,  considering  how  great 


254  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS:' 

a  variety  of  cases  are  included  under  "  diseases  of  the 
chest/'  from  the  slow  insidious  but  fatal  ravages  of  con- 
sumption to  the  sudden  pang  and  deadly  spasm  of  heart 
disease,  and  the  various  affections  of  throat  and  lungs, 
it  may  easily  be  seen  how  much  depends  upon  the  adop- 
tion of  a  system  initiated  by  long  study  and  experience. 
The  perfect  arrangements  which  distinguish  this  hospital 
are  doubtless  rendered  easier  by  ample  space  and  admi- 
rable appliances.  Plenty  of  room  and  plenty  of  air  (air, 
however,  which  has  been  warmed  to  one  even  tempera- 
ture before  it  enters  the  wards  and  corridors  where  the 
patients  eat  and  drink,  sleep  and  walk)  are  the  first 
characteristics  of  the  place,  while  a  certain  chaste  sim- 
plicity of  ornament,  and  yet  an  avoidance  of  mere  utili- 
tarian bareness,  is  to  be  observed  in  all  that  portion  of 
the  structure  where  decoration  may  naturally  be  ex- 
pected. 

The  board-room,  the  secretary's  room,  and  the  various 
apartments  devoted  to  the  resident  officers  on  the  ground- 
floor,  are  plain  enough,  however,  though  they  are  of  good 
size  and  proportions,  the  only  really  ornamental  article 
of  furniture  in  the  board-room  being  a  handsome  semi- 
grand  piano,  the  gift  of  one  of  the  committee.  This  is  a 
real  boon  to  such  of  the  patients  as  can  come  to  practise 
choral  singing,  as  well  as  to  those  who  can  listen  delight- 
edly to  the  amateur  concerts  that  are  periodically  per- 
formed, either  in  the  hospital  itself  or  in  one  of  the  wards. 
For  they  have  cheerful  entertainments  in  this  resort  of 
the  feeble,  where,  to  tell  the  truth,  food  is  often  the  best 
physic,  and  sympathy  and  encouragement  the  most 
potent  alleviations. 

As  to  the  actual  physic — the  employment  of  medicines 
— it  is  only  in  some  of  the  large  endowed  hospitals  that 


GIVING  THE  FEEBLE  STRENGTH.  255 

we  can  see  such  a  dispensary  as  this  spacious  room, 
with  its  surrounding  rows  of  bottles  and  drawers,  its  two 
open  windows,  one  communicating  with  the  men's  and 
the  other  with  the  women's  waiting  room,  its  slabs,  and 
scales  and  measures,  on  a  central  counter,  where  380  pre- 
scriptions will  have  to  be  made  up  to-day  before  the  alert 
and  intelligent  gentleman  and  his  assistants  who  have 
the  control  of  this  department,  will  be  able  to  replace  the 
current  stock  out  of  the  medical  stores. 

These  small  cisterns,  each  with  its  tap,  occupying  so 
prominent  a  place  on  the  counter,  represent  the  staple 
medicine  of  the  establishment,  pure  cod-liver  oil,  of  which 
1,200  gallons  are  used  every  year,  and  they  are  con- 
stantly replenished  from  three  large  cylinders,  or  vats, 
containing  800  gallons,  which  occupy  a  room  of  their  own 
adjoining  the  dispensary  and  the  compounding  room,  the 
latter  being  the  place  where  drugs  are  prepared,  and  the 
great  art  of  pill-making  is  practised  on  a  remarkable 
scale. 

Continuing  our  walk  round  the  hospital,  we  come  to 
the  consulting-rooms,  where  the  physicians  attend  daily 
at  two  o'clock,  each  to  see  his  own  patients,  and  the  re- 
ception-room, where  an  officer  takes  the  letters  of  intro- 
duction, and  exchanges  them  for  attendance  cards.  This 
is  the  door  of  the  museum  ;  and  though  we  shall  be 
admitted,  if  you  choose  to  accompany  me,  it  is,  like  other 
surgical  museums,  of  professional  more  than  general  in- 
terest, and  not  a  public  portion  of  the  hospital.  Turning 
into  the  great  main  corridor,  with  its  peculiar  honey- 
combed red-brick  ceiling  and  pleasant  sense  of  light  and 
air,  we  will  ascend  the  broad  staircase  to  the  w7ards,  those 
of  the  women  being  on  the  first  floor,  while  the  men 
occupy  a  precisely  similar  ward  on  the  second.      These 


256  "ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

wards  consist  of  a  series  of  rooms  of  from  two  to  six, 
eight,  and  twelve  beds  each,  so  as  to  afford  opportunity 
for  the  proper  classification  of  the  cases.  A  day-room  is 
also  provided  for  each  set  of  wards,  so  that  those  patients 
who  are  well  enough  to  leave  their  beds  may  take  their 
meals  there,  or  may  read,  play  at  chess,  draughts,  or 
bagatelle,  or  occupy  themselves  with  needlework.  These 
wards  and  their  day-rooms  all  open  into  a  light  cheerful 
corridor,  with  large  windows,  where  the  inmates  may  walk 
and  talk,  or  read  and  rest,  sitting  or  reclining  upon  the 
couches  and  settees  that  are  placed  at  intervals  along  the 
wall.  All  through  these  rooms  and  corridors  the  air  is 
kept  at  a  medium  temperature  of  from  fifty-five  to  sixty 
degrees,  by  means  of  hot-air  or  hot-water  apparatus, 
the  latter  being  in  use  as  well  as  the  former.  You 
noticed,  as  we  stood  in  the  grounds,  a  large  square  struc- 
ture of  a  monumental  character  ; — that  was  in  fact  the 
chamber  through  the  sides  of  which  draughts  of  air  are 
carried  to  channels  beneath  the  building,  there  they  are 
drawn  around  a  furnace,  to  be  heated,  and  to  escape 
through  pipes  that  are  grouped  about  the  entire  building, 
In  order  to  ensure  the  necessary  comfort  of  patients 
requiring  a  higher  temperature,  each  ward  is  provided 
with  an  open  fire-place. 

It  is  now  just  dinner-time.  The  ample  rations  of  meat 
and  vegetables,  fish  and  milk,  and  the  various  "  special 
diets,"  are  coming  up  on  the  lift  from  the  kitchens,  and  in 
the  women's  day-room  a  very  comfortable  party  is  just 
sitting  down  to  the  mid-day  meal.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
greater  patience  and  more  genuine  cheerfulness  are  to  be 
observed  among  the  women,  than  is  as  a  rule  displayed 
by  the  men,  and  there  are  not  wanting  signs  of  pleasant 
progress  towards  recovery,  of  grateful  appreciation  of  the 


GIVING  THE  FEEBLE  STRENGTH.  257 

benefits  received,  and  of  a  hopeful  trusting  spirit,  which 
goes  far  to  aid  the  doctor  and  the  nurse.  There  are,  of 
course,  some  sad  sights.  Looking  into  the  wards,  we 
may  see  more  than  one  woman  for  whom  only  a  few 
hours  of  this  mortal  life  remain  ;  more  than  one  child 
whose  emaciated  form  and  face  looks  as  though  death 
itself  could  bring  no  great  change.  Yet  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  cases  likely  soon  to  terminate  fatally  are 
not  admitted.  The  severity  of  the  diseases  and  their 
frequently  fatal  character  under  any  condition  will 
account  for  the  large  proportion  of  sickness  unto  death 
which  finds  here  alleviation  but  not  absolute  cure  ; 
though,  of  course,  the  sufferers  from  heart  disease,  who 
are  on  the  whole  the  most  cheerful,  as  well  as  those  whose 
affections  of  the  lungs  can  be  sensibly  arrested,  if  not 
altogether  healed,  are  frequently  restored  to  many  years 
of  useful  work  in  the  world.  On  this  second  storey,  in 
the  men's  ward,  there  are  some  very  serious  cases,  and 
some  sights  that  have  a  heartache  in  them ;  yet  they  are 
full  of  significance,  for  many  of  them  include  the  spec- 
tacle of  God's  sweet  gift  of  trust  and  patience — the 
mighty  courage  of  a  quiet  mind.  Yonder  is  a  courageous 
fellow,  who,  suffering  from  a  terrible  aneurism,  had  to 
cease  his  daily  labour,  and  now  lies  on  his  back,  hopeful 
of  cure,  with  a  set  still  face  and  a  determined  yet  wistful 
look  at  the  resident  medical  officer,  or  the  nurse  who 
adjusts  the  india-rubber  ice-bag  on  his  chest.  Here, 
near  the  door,  is  that  which  should  make  us  bow  our 
heads  low  before  the  greatest  mystery  of  mortal  life. 
Not  the  mystery  of  death,  but  the  mystery  of  meeting 
death  and  awaiting  it.  A  brave,  patient,  noble  man  is 
sitting  up  in  that  bed,  his  high  forehead,  fair  falling  hair, 
long  tawny  beard,  and  steady  placid  eye,  reminding  one 

17 


. 


258  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS." 

of  some   picture  of  Norseman   or  Viking.      Lean   and 
gaunt  enough  in  frame,  his  long  thin  hand  is  little  but 
skin  and  bone,  but  it  is  clasped  gently  by  the  sorrowing 
wife,  who  sits   beside  him,  and  glances  at  us   through 
tearful  eyes  as  we  enter.      One  can  almost  believe  that 
the  sick  man  who  is  going  on  the  great  journey  whither 
he  cannot  yet  take  the  wife  who  loves  him,  has  been 
speaking  of  it  calmly,  there  is  such  an  inscrutable  look  of 
absolute  repose  in  that  face.      He  is  a  Dane,  and  the 
doctor   tells  us    has  borne  his    illness    and    great  pain 
with  a  quiet  courage  that  has  challenged   the   admir- 
ation of  those   about  him — a  courage   born   of  simple 
faith,  let  us  believe,  a  calm  resting  on  an  eternal  founda- 
tion of  peace.      Here,  in  the  corridor,  is  a  party,  some  of 
its  members  still  very  weak  and  languid,  who,  having  just 
dined,  are  about  to  take  the  afternoon  lounge,  with  book 
or  newspaper,  and,  leaving  them,  we  will  conclude  our 
visit  by  descending  to  the  basement,  whence  the  chief 
medicine  comes  in  the  shape  of  wholesome  nourishing 
food,  of  meat  and  fish,  of  pure  farina,  of  wine,  and  milk, 
and  fresh  eggs,  of  clean  pure  linen,  and  even  of  ice,  for 
ice  is  a  large  ingredient  here,  and  several  tons  are  con- 
sumed every  year.     The  domestic  staff  have  their  apart- 
ments in  this  basement  portion  of  the  building,  another 
division  of  which  is  occupied  by  the  kitchens  and  store- 
rooms, while  lifts   for  coal  and  daily  meals  and  every 
other  requisite,  ascend  to  the  upper  wards,  and  shoots  or 
wells  from  the  upper  floors  convey  linen  and  bedding 
that  require  washing,  as  well  as  the  dust  and  refuse  of 
the  wards,  to  special  receptacles. 

The  kitchen  itself  is  a  sight  worth  seeing  with  its  wide 
open  range,  where  prime  joints  are  roasting,  or  have  been 
roasted,  and  are  now  being  cut  into  great  platefuls  for 


GIVING  THE  FEEBLE  STRENGTH.  259 

the  ordinary  full-diet  patients.  In  the  great  boilers  and 
ovens,  vegetables  and  boiled  meats,  farinaceous  puddings, 
rice,  tapioca,  fish,  and  a  dozen  other  articles  of  pure  diet 
are  being  prepared,  while  a  reservoir  of  strong  beef-tea 
represents  the  nourishment  of  those  feeble  ones  to  whom 
liquid,  representing  either  meat  or  milk,  is  all  that  can  be 
permitted.  We  have  little  time  to  remain  in  the  separate 
rooms,  which  are  cool  tile-lined  larders,  where  bread  and 
milk  and  meat  are  kept,  but  among  the  records  of  dona- 
tions and  contributions  to  the  hospital  it  is  very  pleasant 
to  read  of  the  multifarious  gifts  of  food  and  other  com- 
forts sent  from  time  to  time  by  benevolent  friends. 
They  consist  of  baskets  of  game,  fruits,  rice,  tea,  flour, 
books,  warm  clothing  for  poor  patients  leaving  the  hospi- 
tal, prints,  pictures,  fern-cases,  all  kinds  of  useful  articles, 
showing  how  thoughtful  the  donors  are,  of  what  will  be  a 
solace  and  a  comfort  to  the  patients,  while  not  the  least 
practically  valuable  remittances  are  bundles  of  old  linen. 
Still  more  touching,  however,  are  the  records  of  gifts 
brought  by  patients  themselves,  or  by  their  friends. 

"  I  was  a  patient  here  four  years  ago,"  says  a  man  who 
has  made  his  way  to  the  secretary's  room,  "  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  if  ever  I  could  scrape  a  guinea  together 
I  should  bring  it,  and  now  I  have,  and  here  it  is,  if  you'll 
be  so  good  as  to  take  it,  for  I  want  to  show  I'm  truly 
grateful." 

"  If  you'll  please  accept  it  from  us  ;  my  husband  and 
I  have  put  by  fifteen  shillings,  and  want  to  give  it  to  the 
hospital  for  your  kindness  to  our  son,  who  was  here 
before  he  died." 

These  are  the  chronicles  that  show  this  to  be  a  people  s 
hospital  indeed,  and  that  should  open  the  hearts  of  those 
who  can  take  pounds  instead  of  shillings.     In  such  cases 

17 — 2 


26o  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THERS  BUSINESS." 

the  secretary  has  ventured  to  remind  the  grateful  donors 
that  they  may  be  unable  to  afford  to  leave  their  savings, 
but  the  evident  pain,  even  of  the  hint  of  refusal,  was 
reason  for  accepting  the  poor  offering.  Poor,  did  I  say  ? 
nay,  rich — rich  in  all  that  can  really  give  value  to  such 
gifts,  the  wealth  of  the  heart  that  must  be  satisfied  by 
giving. 

There  is  one  more  adjunct  to  this  great  human  conser- 
vatory which  we  must  see  before  we  leave.  Down  four 
shallow  stone  steps  from  the  corridor,  and  along  a  cheer- 
ful quiet  sub-corridor,  is  the  chapel.  A  very  beautiful 
building,  with  no  stained  glass  or  sumptuous  detail  of 
ornament,  and  yet  so  admirable  in  its  simple  archi- 
tectural decoration  and  perfect  proportions,  that  it  is  an 
example  of  what  such  a  place  should  be.  It  is  capable 
of  seating  three  or  four  hundred  persons,  and  visitors  are 
freely  admitted  to  the  Sunday  services  when  there  is 
room,  though  of  course  seats  are  reserved  for  the  patients, 
who  have  "  elbows  "  provided  in  their  pews,  that  they 
may  be  able  to  lean  without  undue  fatigue.  The  chapel 
itself  was  a  gift  of  a  beneficent  friend,  and  was  presented 
anonymously.  One  day  an  architect  waited  on  the  com- 
mittee, and  simply  said  that  if  they  would  permit  a 
chapel  to  be  erected  on  a  vacant  space  in  their  grounds, 
close  to  the  main  building,  he  had  plans  for  such  a  struc- 
ture with  him,  and  the  whole  cost  would  be  defrayed  by  a 
client  of  his,  who,  however,  would  not  make  known  his 
name.  The  gift  was  accepted,  and  the  benevolent  con- 
tract nobly  fulfilled.  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  that  some 
other  charitable  donor  had  sent  in  like  manner  an  offer 
of  funds  to  fill  those  two  great  vacant  wards. which,  wait- 
ing for  patients,  are  among  the  saddest  sights  in  this 
hospital. 


HEALING  THE  SICK. 

MIDST  the  numerous  great  charities  which 
distinguish  this  vast  metropolis,  hospitals 
must  always  hold  a  prominent  if  not  pre- 
eminent place.  Helpless  infancy,  the  weak- 
}  ness  and  infirmity  of  old  age,  and  prostration  by  sudden 
accident,  or  the  ravages  of  disease,  are  the  conditions 
that  necessarily  appeal  to  humanity.  The  latter  espe- 
cially is  so  probable  an  occurrence  to  any  of  us,  that  we 
are  at  once  impressed  by  the  necessity  for  providing 
some  means  for  its  alleviation.  Helpless  childhood  has 
passed,  old  age  may  seem  to  be  in  too  dim  a  future  to 
challenge  our  immediate  attention  ;  but  sickness,  sudden 
disaster,,  who  shall  be  able  to  guard  against  these,  in  a 
world  where  the  strongest  are  often  smitten  down  in  the 
full  tide  of  apparent  health  ;  where,  in  the  streets 
alone,  fatal  accidents  are  reckoned  monthly  as  a  special 
item  in  Registrars'  returns,  and  injuries  amount  annually 
to  hundreds  ? 

The  great  endowed  hospitals,  therefore,  those  magni- 
ficent monuments  of  charity  which  have  distinguished 
London  for  so  many  years,  and  the  value  of  which  in  ex- 
tending the  science  of  medicine  can  scarcely  be  overrated, 
are  regarded   by  us  all  with  veneration.     At  the  same 


262  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THER'S  BUSINESS:' 

time  we  ought  to  feel  a  certain  thrill  of  pleasure,  a 
satisfaction  not  far  removed  from  keen  emotion,  when  we 
see  inscribed  on  the  front  of  some  building,  large  or 
small,  where  the  work  of  healing  is  being  carried  on, 
the  words,  "  Supported  by  Voluntary  Contributions." 
One  other  condition,  too,  seems  necessary  to  the  complete 
recognition  of  such  a  charity  as  having  attained  to  the 
full  measure  of  a  truly  beneficent  work — admission  to  it 
should  be  free  :  free  not  only  from  any  demand  for 
money  payments,  but  untrammelled  by  the  necessity  for 
seeking,  often  with  much  suffering  and  delay,  a  governor's 
order  or  letter,  by  which  alone  a  patient  can  be  received 
in  many  of  our  otherwise  admirable  and  useful  institu- 
tions for  the  sick.  It  should  be  remembered  that  imme- 
diate aid  is  of  the  utmost  importance  in  the  effort  to  heal 
the  sick,  and  that  delays,  proverbially  dangerous,  are  in 
such  cases  cruel,  often  fatal,  always  damaging  to  the  sense 
of  true  beneficence,  of  the  extension  of  help  because  of  the 
need  rather  than  for  the  sake  of  any  particular  influence. 
It  would  seem  that  we  have  no  right  to  hesitate,  or  to 
insist  on  the  observance  of  certain  forms,  before  succour- 
ing the  grievously  sick  and  wounded,  any  more  than  we 
have  to  withhold  food  from  the  starving  till  ceremonial 
inquiries  are  answered,  and  certificates  of  character 
obtained.  There  are  cases  of  poverty,  and  even  of 
suffering,  where  inquiry  before  ultimate  and  continued 
relief  may  be  useful,  and  personal  influence  may  be  neces- 
sary, but  extreme  hunger  and  nakedness,  cold  and 
houselessness,  sudden  injury  or  maiming,  the  pain  of 
disease,  the  deep  and  touching  need  of  the  sick  and 
helpless,  are  not  such.  Prompt  and  effectual  mea- 
sures for  relief,  and,  if  necessary,  admission  to  the  place 
where  that  relief  can  alone  be  afforded,  will  be  the  only 


HEALING  THE  SICK.  263 

means  of  completely  meeting  these  wants.  Free  hospitals, 
freer  even  than  workhouses,  are  what  we  need,  and  I  am 
about  to  visit  one  of  them  to-day  which  rejoices  in  its 
name,  "The  Royal  Free  Hospital,"  now  in  its  forty- 
seventh  year  of  useful  and,  I  am  glad  to  say,  of  vigorous 
life. 

To  anyone  acquainted  with  that  strange  neighbourhood 
which  is  represented  by  Gray's  Inn  Lane  and  all  the 
queer  jumble  of  courts  and  alleys  that  seem  to  shrink 
behind  the  shelter  of  the  broad  thoroughfare  of  Holborn, 
there  is  something  consistent  in  the  establishment  of 
such  a  noble  charity  as  this  hospital  in  Gray's  Inn  Road. 
Its  very  position  seems  to  indicate  the  nature  and  extent 
of  its  duties.  Near  the  homes  of  poverty,  the  streets 
where  people  live  who  cannot  go  far  to  seek  aid  in 
their  extremest  need,  it  receives  those  who,  breaking 
down  through  sudden  disease,  or  requiring  medical  and 
surgical  skill  to  relieve  the  pain  and  weakness  of  re- 
current malady,  have  no  resource  but  this  to  enable  them 
to  fulfil  their  one  great  desire  "  to  get  back  to  work." 
The  causes  of  much  of  the  sickness  which  sends  patients 
thither  may  be  preventable  :  they  may  be  found  in  foul 
dwellings,  impure  water,  insufficient  clothing,  want  of 
proper  food,  k  alternate  hunger  and  intemperance  ;  but 
whatever  may  be  its  occasion,  a  remedy  must  be  found 
for  it.  Till  all  that  is  preventable  is  prevented,  the  con- 
sequences will  have  to  be  mitigated,  the  fatal  results 
averted  where  it  is  possible  ;  and  when  boards  of  health 
and  sanitary  measures  have  done,  there  will  still  be  sick 
men  to  heal,  failing  children  to  strengthen,  weak  and 
wasting  women  to  restore. 

It  is  well,  then,  that  this  Institution  should  stand  as  a 
landmark  of  that  free  charity  which  takes  help  where  it 


264  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:' 

is  needed  most ;  and  this  qualification  is  the  more  ob- 
vious when  we  turn  from  the  sick  wards  to  the  accident 
wards,  and  remember  that  three  great  railway  termini 
are  close  at  hand,  and  others  not  far  off;  that  all  round 
that  teeming  neighbourhood  men,  women,  and  even 
children,  are  working  at  poor  handicrafts,  which  render 
them  liable  to  frequent  injuries,  and  that  in  the  crowded 
streets  themselves — from  the  great  busy  thoroughfare 
of  Holborn,  to  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  the  approaches 
to  the  stations  at  King's  Cross — there  is  constant  peril 
to  life  and  limb. 

There  is  something  so  remarkable  in  the  external 
appearance  of  the  building,  such  a  military  look  about 
its  bold  front,  such  a  suggestion  of  a  cavalry  yard  about 
the  broad  open  area  behind  this  tall  wooden  entrance 
gate,  that  you  begin  to  wonder  how  such  a  style  of 
architecture  should  have  been  adopted  for  a  hospital. 
The  truth  is  that  like  many — nay,  like  most  of  our 
noblest  work — this  great  provision  for  healing  the  sick 
began  by  not  waiting  for  full-blown  opportunities.  The 
need  was  there,  and  the  means  that  came  to  hand  were 
used  to  meet  it.  This  building  was  originally  the  bar- 
racks of  that  loyal  and  efficient  regiment,  the  "  Light 
Horse  Volunteers,"  and  so  excellently  had  those  gallant 
defenders  of  king  and  constitution  provided  for  their 
own  comfort  and  security,  that  when  in  1842  the  premises 
were  vacant,  and  the  lease  for  sale,  the  governors  of  the 
Royal  Free  Hospital  became  the  purchasers,  the  long 
rooms  were  easily  turned  into  ample,  cheerful,  and  well- 
ventilated  wards,  and  the  various  outbuildings  and  offices 
were  quickly  adapted  to  the  reception  of  patients. 

But  the  hospital  had  at  that  date  been  working  quietly 
and    effectually  for    above  fourteen    years.      Fourteea 


HEALING  THE  SICK.  265 

years  before  its  inauguration  in  Gray's  Inn  Road,  this 
"free"  hospital,  which  was  not  then  "royal,"  had  been 
commenced  in  Greville  Street,  Hatton  Garden,  and  the 
immediate  incident  which  led  to  its  foundation  is  so 
suggestive,  so  inseparable  from  the  recollection  of  the 
want  which  it  was  designed  to  alleviate,  and  from  its 
own  generous  recognition  of  the  unfailing  freedom  of 
true  charity,  that  it  might  well  be  the  subject  of  a  me- 
morial picture.  Alas !  it  would  be  a  tragic  reminder  of 
those  days  before  any  provision  was  made  for  extending 
medical  aid  to  sufferers  who  had  no  credentials  save 
humanity  and  their  own  deep  necessity.  It  would  be  a 
grim  reminder  to  us,  also,  that  some  of  our  great  chari- 
ties established  for  the  relief  of  the  sick  are  still  tram- 
melled with  those  restrictions  which  demand  recom- 
mendations, to  obtain  which  the  applicant  is  often  con- 
demned to  delay  and  disappointment.  It  would  show 
us  that  our  hospitals  are  not  yet  free. 

Those  of  my  readers  who  can  remember  the  entrance 
to  the  broad  highway  of  Holborn  nearly  fifty  years  ago 
— stay,  that  is  going  back  beyond  probable  acknowledg- 
ment,— let  me  say  those  of  us  who  knew  Smithfield  when 
it  was  a  cattle  market,  who  had  heard  of  "  Cow  Cross," 
and  been  told  of  the  terrible  purlieux  of  Field  Lane  ; 
who  had  occasionally  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  foul 
wilderness  of  courts  that  clustered  about  the  Fleet  Ditch; 
had  read  of  Mr.  Fagin,  when  "Oliver  Twist"  was  first 
appearing  in  chapters,  and  had  dim  recollections  of 
nursery  tales  about  Bartlemy  fair  and  "  hanging  morn- 
ing "  at  the  Old  Bailey  ;  those  of  us  who  remember  the 
cries  of  drovers,  and  the  lowing  and  bleating  of  herds 
and  flocks  in  the  streets  on  Sunday  nights ;  the  terrible 
descent   of  Snow   Hill ;    the  confusion   and   dismay  of 


266  '•  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS* 

passengers  and  vehicles  on  the  steep  incline  of  Holborn 
Hill  ;  the  reek  of  all  that  maze  of  houses  and  hovels 
that  lay  in  the  valley ;  those  of  us,  in  short,  who  can 
carry  our  memories  back  for  a  few  years  beyond  the 
time  when  the  new  cattle  market  was  built  at  Islington, 
the  pens  and  lairs  of  Smithfield  demolished,  the  whole 
Holborn  valley  dismantled,  only  a  remnant,  a  mere 
corner,  of  Field  Lane  being  left  standing  after  the  great 
viaduct  was  built — can  imagine  what  the  church  of  St. 
Andrew  was  like  wrhen,  with  its  dark  and  dreary  church- 
yard, it  stood  on  the  slope  of  Holborn  Hill,  instead  of 
being  as  it  now  is  in  a  kind  of  subway.  That  church- 
yard, with  its  iron  gate,  was  reached  by  stone  steps, 
which  were  receptacles  for  winter  rain  and  summer  dust, 
the  straw  from  waggons,  the  shreds  and  sweepings  from 
adjacent  shops,  the  dirt  and  refuse  of  the  streets. 

On  those  steps  a  young  girl  was  seen  lying  one  night, 
in  the  winter  of  1827 — lying  helpless,  lonely,  perishing 
of  disease  and  famine. 

The  clocks  of  St.  Andrew,  St.  Sepulchre,  St.  Paul, 
had  clanged  and  boomed  amidst  the  hurry  and  the  tur- 
moil of  the  throng  of  passengers  ;  had  clanged  and 
boomed  till  their  notes  might  be  heard  above  the  sub- 
siding roar  of  vehicles,  and  the  shuffling  of  feet,  till 
silence  crept  over  the  great  city,  and  more  distant  chimes 
struck  through  the  murky  air,  tolling  midnight.  Still 
that  figure  lay  upon  the  cruel  stones,  under  the  rusty 
gate  of  the  churchyard,  as  though,  unfriended  and  un- 
pitied  by  the  world,  she  waited  for  admission  to  the  only 
place  in  which  she  might  make  a  claim  in  death,  if  not 
in  life. 

Not  more  than  eighteen  years  old,  she  had  wandered 
wearily  from  some  distant  place  where  fatal  instalments 


HEALING  THE  SICK.  267 

of  the  wages  of  sin  had  done  their  work.  She  had  come 
to  London  unknown,  unnoted,  to  die.  That  she  had  come 
from  afar  is  but  a  surmise  ;  she  may  have  been  a  dweller 
in  this  great  city,  lost  amidst  the  stony  desert  of  its 
streets,  friendless  with  the  friendlessness  of  the  outcast 
or  the  wretched,  to  whom  the  acquaintances  of  to-day 
have  little  care  or  opportunity  to  become  the  solacers 
of  to-morrow ;  she  may  have  crept  to  that  dark  corner 
by  the  churchyard  gate,  amongst  the  rack  and  refuse  of 
the  street,  as  a  place  in  which  she,  the  unconsidered 
waste  and  refuse  of  our  boasted  civilisation,  could  most 
fitly  huddle  from  the  cold.  She  was  not  left  actually  to 
die  there,  but  two  days  afterwards  she  passed  out  of  the 
world  where  she  had  been  unrecognised.  Not  without 
result,  however. 

Among  those  who  had  witnessed  the  distressing  oc- 
currence was  a  surgeon,  Mr.  William  Marsden,  who  for 
some  time  before  had  repeatedly  seen  cause  to  lament, 
that  with  all  our  endowed  hospitals,  our  great  medical 
schools,  and  the  advance  of  scientific  knowledge,  the 
sick  poor  could  only  obtain  relief  by  means  of  letters  of 
recommendation  and  other  delay,  until  the  appointed 
days  for  admission.  The  sight  that  he  had  witnessed 
awoke  him  to  fresh  energy.  He  determined  to  establish 
a  medical  charity,  where  destitution  or  great  poverty 
and  disease  should  be  the  only  necessary  credentials  for 
obtaining  free  and  immediate  relief.  His  honest  bene- 
volent purpose  did  not  cool ;  in  February  in  the  follow- 
ing year  (1828),  the  house  in  Greville  Street  was  open 
as  a  free  hospital,  and  it  was  taken  under  the  royal 
patronage  of  George  IV.,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  becom- 
ing its  president. 

King  William  IV.  succeeded  George  IV.  as  the  patron 


26S  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:' 

of  this  free  hospital,  and  one  of  the  earliest  manifesta- 
tions of  the  interest  of  our  Queen  in  public  charitable 
institutions  was  the  expressed  desire  of  her  Majesty  to 
maintain  the  support  which  it  had  hitherto  received, 
and  to  confer  upon  it  the  name  of  the  Royal  Free  Hos- 
pital. 

It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  late  Duke  of  Sussex 
took  a  very  strong-  interest  in  this  charity,  and  at  his 
death  it  was  determined  to  erect  a  new  wing,  to  be 
called  "  the  Sussex  "  wing.  This  work  was  completed 
in  1856 ;  and  in  1863,  by  the  aid  of  a  zealous  and  inde- 
fatigable chairman  of  the  committee,  above  £5,000  was 
raised  by  special  appeal  for  the  purposes  of  buying  the 
freehold  of  the  entire  building,  so  that  it  is  now,  in  every 
sense,  a  free  hospital,  with  a  noble  history  of  suffering 
relieved,  of  the  sick  healed,  the  deserted  reclaimed,  the 
sinful  succoured,  and  those  that  were  ready  to  perish 
snatched  from  the  jaws  of  death. 

Since  the  foundation  of  the  modest  house  in  Hatton 
Garden  in  1828  above  a  million  and  a  half  of  poor  sick 
and  destitute  patients  have  obtained  relief,  and  the 
average  of  poor  patients  received  within  its  wards  is 
now  1,500  annually,  while  45,000  out-patients  resort 
thither  from  all  parts  of  London.  The  relief  thus 
afforded  costs  some  £8,000  a  year,  and  this  large  sum 
has  to  be  provided  by  appeals  to  the  public  for  those 
contributions  by  which  alone  the  continued  effort  can 
be  sustained. 

Standing  here  within  the  "  Moore "  ward,  so  called 
after  the  energetic  chairman  before  referred  to,  I  cannot 
think  of  any  appeal  that  should  be  more  successful  in 
securing  public  sympathy  than  these  two  statements — 
First,  that  many  of  the  inmates  have  been  immediately 


HEALING  THE  SICK. 


169 


received  on  their  own  application";  and  secondly,  that, 
bearing  in  mind  the  sad  story  which  is,  as  it  were,  the 
story  of  the  foundation  of  the  hospital,  this  ward  is  oc- 
cupied by  women.  Many  of  them  are  persons  of  educa- 
tion and  refinement,  who  yet  would  have  no  asylum  if 
they  had  not  been  received  within  these  sheltering  walls, 
others  may  be  poor,  ignorant,  and  perhaps  even  degraded, 
but  divine  charity  is  large  enough  to  recognise  in  these 
the  very  need  which  such  an  effort  is  intended  to  alle- 
viate. Here  at  least  is  a  peaceful  retreat,  where  in  quiet 
reflection,  in  grateful  recognition  of  mercies  yet  within 
reach,  in  the  sound  of  pitying  voices,  and  the  touch  of 
sympathetic  hands,  the  weary  may  find  rest,  the  throes 
of  pain  may  be  assuaged. 

Here  are  the  two  fundamental  rules  of  the  hospital, 
and  they  form  what  one  might  call  a  double-barrelled 
appeal  not  to  be  easily  turned  aside  : — 


IN-DOOR  PATIENTS. 

Foreigners,  strangers,  and 
others,  in  sickness  or  disease, 
having  neither  friends  nor  homes, 
are  admitted  to  the  Wards  of 
this  Hospital  on  their  own  ap- 
plication, so  far  as  the  means 
of  the  charity  will  permit. 


OUT-DOOR  PATIENTS. 

All  sick  and  diseased  persons, 
having  no  other  means  of  ob- 
taining relief,  may  attend  at 
this  Hospital  every  day  at  Two 
o'clock,  when  they  will  receive 
Medical  and  Surgical  Advice 
and  Medicine  free. 


Even  while  I  read  the  latter  announcement  the  out- 
patients are  assembling  in  the  waiting-room,  on  the 
right  of  the  quadrangle ;  the  dispenser,  in  his  repository 
of  drugs,  surrounded  by  bottles,  jars,  drawers,  and  all 
the  appliances  for  making  up  medicines,  has  set  his 
assistants  to  work,  and  is  himself  ready  to  begin  the 
afternoon's  duty;  the  consulting-physician  of  the  day 
has   just  taken  his  seat  in  one  plain  barely-furnished 


270  "  A  BO  UT  M  Y  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS." 

apartment,  the  consulting-surgeon  in  another,  while  the 
resident  house-surgeon  has  completed  his  first  inspection 
of  in-patients,  and  is  ready  with  particulars  of  new  cases. 

These  rooms,  where  patients  assemble,  and  doctors 
consult,  are  on  the  right  of  the  pleasant  quadrangle,  with 
its  large  centre  oval  garden  plot,  containing  a  double 
ring  of  trees ;  and  here  also  is  the  reception  room  for 
"  accidents  "  and  urgent  cases — a  very  suggestive  room, 
with  styptics,  immediate  remedies,  and  prompt  appliances 
ready  to  hand,  but  like  all  the  rest  of  the  official  portion 
of  the  building,  very  plain  and  practical,  with  evidence 
of  there  being  little  time  to  regard  mere  ease  or  orna- 
ment, and  of  a  disregard  of  anything  which  is  not  asso- 
ciated with  the  work  that  has  to  be  done.  It  is  the 
same  with  other  apartments,  where  it  is  obvious  that  no 
unnecessary  expenditure  is  incurred  for  mere  official  show. 

The  business  of  the  place  is  to  heal  by  means  of  food, 
of  rest,  and  of  medicine,  and  there,  on  the  left  of  the 
quadrangle,  a  flight  of  steps  leads  downwards  to  a  wide 
area,  where,  in  the  kitchens,  the  domestic  servants  are 
busy  clearing  up,  after  serving  the  eighty-eight  rations 
which  have  been  issued  for  dinner — rations  of  fish,  flesh, 
and  fowl,  or  those  "  special  diets  "  which  are  taken  under 
medical  direction.  There  is  something  about  this  kitchen, 
the  store-rooms,  and  offices,  with  the  steps  leading  thereto, 
and  the  cat  sitting  blinking  in  the  sun,  which  irresistibly 
reminds  me  of  the  heights  of  Dover  and  some  portion  of 
the  barrack  building  there  ;  the  old  military  look  of  the 
place  clings  to  this  Gray's  Inn  Road  establishment  still, 
and  the  visitor  misses  the  wonderful  appliances  and 
mechanical  adaptations  of  some  more  modern  institu- 
tions, not  even  lifts  to  convey  the  dinners  to  the  wards 
being  possible  in  such  an  edifice. 


HEALING  THE  SICK.  271 

There  is  some  compensating  comfort  in  noting,  how- 
ever, that  the  nursing  staff  is  so  organised  as  to  secure 
personal  attention  to  the  patients,  and  that  the  arrange- 
ments are  touchingly  homely,  not  only  in  regard  to  the 
simple  furniture,  the  few  pictures  and  engravings,  and 
the  little  collection  of  books  that  are  to  be  found  in  the 
wards,  but  also  in  the  matter  of  sympathetic,  motherly, 
and  sisterly  help,  which  is  less  ceremonious,  but  not  less 
truly  loving,  than  is  to  be  found  in  some  places  of  higher 
pretensions. 

Here,  on  the  ground  floor,  the  twenty-two  beds  of  the 
men's  severe  accident  ward  are  always  full,  and  some  of 
the  cases  are  pitiable,  including  maiming  by  machinery, 
railway  accidents,  or  injury  in  the  streets.  The  "Marsden 
Ward,"  adjoining  is  devoted  to  injuries  of  a  less  serious 
kind,  so  that  there  many  of  the  patients  can  help  them- 
selves. In  the  women's  accident  ward  there  are  three  or 
four  children,  one  of  whom,  a  pretty  chubby-faced  little 
girl  of  five  years  old,  has  not  yet  got  over  her  astonish- 
ment at  having  been  run  over  by  a  cab  the  day  before 
yesterday,  picked  up  and  brought  into  this  great  room 
where  most  of  the  people  are  in  bed,  only  to  hear  that 
she  is  more  frightened  than  hurt,  and  is  to  go  home  to- 
morrow. There  are  some  other  little  creatures,  however, 
suffering  from  very  awkward  accidents,  and  they  seem  to 
be  petted  and  made  much  of,  just  as  they  are  in  the 
women's  sick  ward  above,  where  a  delicate-faced  intelli- 
gent girl,  herself  improving  greatly  under  prompt  treat- 
ment for  an  early  stage  of  phthisis,  is  delighted  to  have  a 
little  companion  to  tea  with  her  at  her  bed-side,  the 
child  being  allowed  to  sit  up  in  a  chair,  and  the  pair  of 
invalids  being  evidently  on  delightfully  friendly  terms. 
There   is  a  lower  ward,  with  half  a  dozen  little  beds 


272  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THERS  BUSINESS:1 

devoted  solely  to  children,  who  are,  I  think,  all  suffering 
from  some  form   of  disease  of  the  joints.      Alas !  this 
class   of  disease  comes  of  foul  dwellings,  of  impure  or 
stinted  food,  of  want  of  fresh  air  and  water  ;  and  it  brings 
a  pang  to  one's  heart  to  note  the  smiling  little  faces,  the 
bright  beaming  eyes,  the  pretty  engaging  grateful  ways 
of  some  of  these  little  ones,  and  yet  to  know  how  long  a 
time  it  must  be  before  the  results  of  the  evil  conditions 
of  their  lives  will  be  remedied  at  the  present  rate  of  pro- 
cedure ;  how  difficult   a  problem  it  is  to  provide  decent 
dwellings  for  the  poor,  in  a  city  where  neighbourhoods  such 
as  that  which  we  have  just  traversed  have  grown  like 
fungi,  and  cannot  be  uprooted  without  pain  and  loss  which 
social  reformers  shrink  from  inflicting.     Thinking  of  this, 
and  of  all  that  I  have  seen  in  this  Royal  Free  Hospital, 
I  am  glad  to  carry  away  from  it  the  picture  of  this  child's 
ward  and  its  two  young  nurses,  though  I  could  wish  that 
the  walls  of  that  and  all  the  other  wards  were  a  little 
brighter  with  more  pictures,  that  a  fresh  supply  of  books 
might  soon  be  sent  to  replenish  the  library,  and  that  the 
flowers,  that  are  so  eagerly  accepted  to  deck  the  tables 
of  those  poor  sick  rooms,  and   carry  thither  a  sense  of 
freshness,  colour,  and  beauty,  may  come  from  the  gardens 
and  greenhouses  of  those  who  can  spare  of  their  abun- 
dance.    To  keep  the  eighty-eight  beds  full  requires  con- 
stant dependence  on  public  contributions,  and  yet  when 
we  think  of  the  work   that  is  going  on  here,   not  the 
eighty-eight  only,  but  the  whole  number  of  102  should 
be  ready  for  applicants,  who  would,  even  then,  be  far  too 
numerous  to  be   received   at  once  in  a  hospital  which, 
with  a  royal  freedom  of  well-doing,  sets  an  example  that 
might  be  hopefully    followed   by  other  and    wealthier 
charities  for  healing  the  sick. 


WITH  THE  PRISONER. 

HAT  is  the  first  greeting  which  a  convict  re- 
ceives when  he  or  she  is  discharged  from 
prison  ? 

-  Imagine,  if  you  can,  the  shivering,  shrink- 
ing, bewildered  feeling  of  the  man  or  woman  who,  after, 
undergoing  a  term  of  penal  servitude,  some  of  it  passed  in 
hours  of  solitary  confinement,  has  all  this  great  city  sud- 
denly opened  again,  with  its  wilderness  of  streets,  its 
crowd  of  unfamiliar  faces,  its  tremendous  temptations,  its 
few  resources  for  the  friendless  and  the  suspected,  its 
great  broad  thoroughfares,  where  on  every  side  may  be 
seen  evidences  of  wealth  and  plenty  ;  where  the  tavern 
and  the  gin-shop  offer  a  temporary  solace  to  the  wretched ; 
and  where,  also,  in  every  neighbourhood,  there  are  evil 
slums  in  which  vice  finds  companionship,  and  the  career 
of  dishonesty  and  crime  can  be  resumed  without  difficulty 
or  delay. 

Those  who  have  stood  outside  the  walls  of  Clerken- 
well  or  Coldbath  Fields  prison,  and  have  watched  the 
opening  of  the  gates  whence  prisoners  emerge  into  a 
freedom  which  is  almost  paralysing  in  its  first  effects, 
will  tell  you  how  the  appearance  of  these  poor  wretches 
is  greeted  in  low  muttered  tones  by  silent  slouching  men 

iS 


274  "  ABOUT  MY  FA THEKS  BUSINESS:' 

and  women  who  await  their  coming.  How,  after  very- 
few  words  of  encouragement  and  welcome,  they  are  taken 
off  to  some  adjacent  public-house,  there  to  celebrate 
their  liberation  ;  and  how,  almost  before  a  word  is  spoken, 
the  male  prisoner  is  provided  with  a  ready-lighted  pipe 
from  the  mouth  of  one  of  his  former  companions,  in  order 
that  he  may  revive  his  sense  of  freedom  by  the  long-un- 
accustomed indulgence  in  tobacco. 

I  should  be  very  sorry  to  cavil  at  these  marks  of 
sympathy.  They  are  eminently  human.  They  do  not 
always  mean  direct  temptation  —  that  is  to  say,  they 
are  not  necessarily  intended  to  induce  the  recipient  to 
resume  the  evil  course  which  has  led  to  a  long  and  severe 
punishment.  That  the  result  should  be  a  gradual,  if  not 
an  immediate,  weakening  of  that  remorse  which  is  too 
-frequently  sorrow  for  having  incurred  the  penalty  rather 
<han  repentance  of  the  sin  that  led  to  it,  is  obvious 
enough ;  but  what  else  is  to  be  expected  ?  Not  many 
men  or  women  come  out  of  gaol  with  a  very  robust 
morality.  Without  entering  into  the  question  how  far 
our  present  system  of  prison  discipline  and  management 
is  calculated  to  influence  the  moral  nature  of  culprits 
who  are  under  punishments  for  various  crimes,  scarcely 
ever  classified,  and  never  regarded  in  relation  to  the 
particular  circumstances  under  which  they  are  committed 
or  the  character  and  disposition,  the  social  status,  or  the 
mental  and  moral  condition  of  the  offender,  it  may  be 
broadly  and  barely  stated  that  our  penal  legislation  is 
not  effectual  in  promoting  the  reclamation  of  the 
criminal. 

Even  if  some  determination  to  begin  life  anew,  to 
avoid  associations  that  have  led  to  infamy  and  disgrace 
to  accept   any  labour  anywhere  in  order  to  obtain  an 


WITH  THE  PRISONER.  275 

honest  subsistence,  has  been  working  in  the  mind  of  a 
convict  during  the  period  of  imprisonment,  and  under 
the  advice  and  remonstrance  of  the  chaplain  and  the 
governor,  what  is  to  sustain  such  half-formed  resolutions? 
Supposing  even  that  the  discharged  prisoner  has  been  so 
amenable  to  the  regulations  of  the  gaol  that  he  or  she 
has  had  placed  to  the  credit  account  that  weekly  "  good- 
conduct  money,"  which,  when  the  term  of  punishment 
has  ended,  amounts  to  a  sum  sufficient  to  provide  for 
immediate  necessities,  where  is  employment  to  be  looked 
for  ?  In  what  quarter  is  the  owner  of  a  few  shillings — 
which  may  have  to  last  a  week  or  more — to  seek  a  lodg- 
ing and  a  meal,  and  that  companionship  which  must  be 
one  of  the  keenest  longings  of  the  newly-released  and 
yet  solitary  and  half-dazed  creature,  who  is  ready  to  re- 
ceive with  grateful  avidity  any  friendly  greeting  that 
promises  relief  from  the  long  monotony  of  the  gaol  ? 

Surely,  then,  there  can  be  few  conditions  which  appeal 
more  forcibly  to  Christian  beneficence  than  that  of  the 
captive  who  is  released  after  having  undergone  a  sentence 
of  penal  servitude,  part  of  which  has  been  passed  in 
solitary  confinement.  Whatever  may  have  been  the 
impressions  made  upon  the  mind  during  the  period  of 
punishment,  and  the  influence  exercised  by  instruction 
or  exhortation,  the  very  fact  of  regaining  liberty,  the 
excitement  of  freedom,  and  the  uncertainty  of  the  first 
steps  a  man  or  woman  is  to  take  outside  the  prison  walls, 
will  always  involve  a  danger,  before  which  a  very  large 
proportion  of  released  convicts  will  succumb. 

What,  then,  is  being  done  in  order  to  extend  a  help- 
ing hand  to  these,  who  are  among  the  most  destitute 
and  unfortunate  ;  who,  even  if  they  have  relatives,  may 
be  ashamed  to  seek  their  aid,  or  are  doubtful  of  the  re- 

18—2 


276  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS." 

ception  that  awaits  them,  while  the  only  companionship 
which  they  can  claim  at  once,  and  without  question,  is 
that  which  will  surround  them  with  almost  irresistible  in- 
centives to  a  lawless  life  ? 

In  the  very  centre  of  this  vast  metropolis,  at  the  point 
where  its  great  highways  converge,  and  yet  in  a  modest 
quiet  house  standing  a  little  back  from  the  roar  and  tur- 
moil of  the  main  street,  we  shall  find  what  we  seek. 
Here,  on  the  doorpost  of  No.  39,  Charing  Cross,  is  the 
name  of  "  The  Discharged  Prisoners'  Aid  Society,"  and 
in  two  or  three  offices  on  the  first  floor — one  of  which  is, 
in  fact,  a  reception-room  for  the  discharged  prisoners 
themselves — the  wrork  for  which  there  is  such  a  con- 
stant and  pressing  need  is  steadily  carried  on,  under  the 
direction  of  a  very  distinguished  committee,  of  whom 
the  treasurer  is  the  Hon.  Arthur  Kinnaird,  and  the  first 
honorary  secretary,  Mr.  W.  Bayne  Ranken,  who  is  assisted 
by  Mr.  S.  Whitbread  and  Mr.  L.  T.  Cave.  In  looking 
at  the  names  of  the  gentlemen  who  are  concerned  in 
this  admirable  effort,  you  will  have  noticed  that  some  of 
them  are  also  associated  with  other  charitable  organisa- 
tions which  we  have  visited  together,  and  notably  with 
those  of  that  Soho  district  where  we  last  joined  in  the 
musical  diversions  of  the  Newport  Market  Refuge.  As 
we  enter  this  front  office  at  Charing  Cross,  we  have  a 
pleasant  reminder  of  that  occasion,  for  we  are  welcomed 
by  the  indefatigable  performer  on  the  cornet,  who,  when 
we  last  met  him,  was  making  "  the  hills  resound"  in  the 
upper  room  of  the  old  slaughter-house,  and  carrying  all 
his  juvenile  military  band  with  him  in  one  resonant  out- 
burst of  harmony  that  awoke  the  echoes  as  far  as  Seven 
Dials.  To-day  he  is  carrying  out  his  ordinary  secretarial 
and   managerial   duties,   as   officially    representing  the 


WITH  THE  PRISONER.  277 

Society,  about  which  he  can  give  us  some   information 
worth  hearing. 

But  there  are  other  visitors  for  whom  preparation  has 
already  been  made  in  the  next  room — men  dressed  de- 
cently, and  yet  having  a  certain  furtive,  unaccustomed 
bearing,  as  though  they  were  not  at  the  moment  quite 
used  to  their  clothes  or  to  public  observation.  Some  of 
them  are  not  without  a  truculent  half-defiant  expression 
lurking  beneath  their  subdued  demeanour;  others  have 
an  open,  keen  outlook ;  and  a  few  others,  again,  both  in 
the  shape  of  their  head  and  the  peculiar  shifty  expression 
of  eye  and  mouth,  and  one  might  also  say  of  hand, 
would  at  once  be  characterised  by  the  experienced  ob- 
server of  London  life  as  men  who  had  "  been  in  trouble  " 
more  than  once.  On  the  table  of  the  front  office  the 
object  which  has  at  once  attracted  our  attention  is  a  per- 
fectly new  carpenter's  basket  containing  a  decent  set  of 
tools,  and  the  man  for  whom  it  is  intended  will  be  here 
for  it  by-and-by  to  take  it  away,  just  as  the  shoemaker 
who  has  just  gone  out  has  carried  with  him  "a  kit,"  with 
which,  in  addition  to  a  little  stock  of  money,  he  is  about 
to  begin  the  world  afresh,  under  the  auspices  of  his  friends, 
one  of  whom — either  a  member  of  the  committee,  or  the 
secretary,  or  one  of  the  visiting  agents— will  keep  him 
in  view,  and  give  him  an  occasional  encouraging  call 
while  he  remains  in  the  metropolitan  district.  If  a  situa- 
tion should  be  found  for  him  in  the  provinces,  either 
the  clergyman  of  the  district,  or  some  other  friend  of  the 
Society,  is  informed  of  his  previous  history,  and  has  a 
sincere  interest  in  his  well-doing.  In  no  case  have  the 
London  police  anything  whatever  to  do  with  watching 
or  inspecting  discharged  prisoners  under  the  care  of  the 


2 78  "  ABO  UT M Y  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS:' 

Society ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  standing  rule 
that  where  situations  are  found  for  these  men  and  women, 
the  employers  are  informed  of  their  previous]  history, 
though  any  recommendation  of  the  Society  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  strong  inference  that  \hz\r prottge  is  trying  to 
redeem  lost  character. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  a  report  of  each  of  those 
who  are  under  the  care  of  the  Society  is  made  at  the 
office  once  a  month,  either  by  the  man  or  woman  in  per- 
son, or  by  one  of  the  visiting  agents  or  correspondents 
of  the  committee  of  management ;  and  that,  though 
the  police  are  forbidden  to  interfere  with  them,  except 
on  strong  suspicion  that  they  are  about  to  commit  a 
crime,  the  most  accurate  and  careful  record  of  their  mode 
of  life  and  conduct  is  kept  at  the  offices  of  the  Society. 
Should  they  fail  to  observe  the  regulations  which  the 
Society  demands,  they  are  liable  to  police  surveillance 
instead  of  friendly,  encouraging,  and  confidential  visita- 
tion ;  and  it  needs  scarcely  be  said  that  this  liability  is 
often  of  itself  sufficient  to  make  them  desire  to  retain 
the  aid  and  protection  which  has  been  extended  to  them. 

From  a  long  and  tolerably  intimate  observation  of  the 
lower  strata  of  the  London  population,  and  of  the  re- 
sults of  various  methods  adopted  to  check  the  progress 
of  crime,  I  am  convinced  that  what  is  called  police  sur- 
veillance, as  it  is  conducted  in  this  country,  is  altogether 
mischievous  in  relation  to  any  probable  reformation  of 
the  offender.  Even  if  it  be  denied  (as  it  has  been)  that 
it  is  a  practice  of  police-constables  to  give  to  persons 
employing  a  discharged  prisoner,  information  conveyed 
in  such  a  way  as  to  lead  to  the  loss  of  employment  and 
despair  of  obtaining  an  honest  living,  it  is  quite  certain 
that  the  constant  dread  of  being  branded  as  a  returned 


WITH  THE  PRISONER.  279 

felon,  and  the  hopeless  dogged  temper  which  such  a  con- 
dition produces,  must  be  enormous  obstacles  to  true  re- 
clamation. The  man  who  could  really  surmount  them 
must,  whatever  may  have  been  his  casual  crime,  be  pos- 
sessed of  a  hardy  and  indomitable  desire  for  virtue 
which  should  challenge  our  profound  respect. 

But,  apart  from  what  may  be  called  legitimate  surveil- 
lance of  convicts  by  the  police,  it  is  unfortunately  no- 
torious that  members  of  "the  force,"  who  occupy  positions 
as  detectives,  or  "  active  and  intelligent  officers,"  employ 
agents  of  their  own  to  bring  them  information,  and  that 
these  agents,  being  men  of  bad  character — frequently 
thieves — are  interested  for  their  own  safety's  sake  in  pro- 
viding "  charges,"  or  "  putting  up  cases,"  by  conveying 
information  of  suspected  persons.  This  is  according  to 
the  old  evil  traditions  that  have  descended  to  constables 
from  the  time  of  Jonathan  Wild,  and  probably  earlier ; 
but  it  is  obvious  that  where  such  nefarious  tools  are  em- 
ployed for  obtaining  evidence  which  will  suffice  to  sustain 
a  charge  and  convict  a  prisoner,  there  is  constant  danger 
to  those  who,  having  been  once  sentenced  for  crime,  are 
not  only  peculiarly  liable  to  be  drawn  into  fresh  offences, 
but  are,  from  their  position,  easily  made  the  victims  of 
cunningly-laid  traps  for  their  re-arrest,  on  a  suspicion 
that  is  readily  endorsed,  because  of  their  previous  convic- 
tion and  the  knowledge  of  all  their  antecedents. 

It  is  the  removal  of  discharged  prisoners  from  this  pro- 
bability, and  from  the  kind  of  interposition  that  forbids 
their  return  to  the  paths  of  honesty,  and  so  actually  pro- 
duces "  a  criminal  class,"  that  is,  in  my  opinion,  the  best 
distinction  of  a  Society  like  this. 

Some  of  the  volumes  of  interesting  records  which  are 
preserved  here  would  probably  doubtless  confirm  this 


28o  "ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS." 

view.  Let  us  refer  to  one  only,  where  a  nobleman 
residing  in  London  had  engaged  a  butler  who  went  to 
him  with  a  very  excellent  character,  and  in  whom  he  had 
the  greatest  confidence.  Happening  to  have  occasion  to 
employ  a  detective  constable  on  some  business,  his  lord- 
ship was  dismayed  at  receiving  from  that  astute  officer 
the  intelligence  that  his  trusted  servant  had  once  been 
sentenced  to  five  years'  penal  servitude  for  some  dis- 
honest act,  but  had  been  liberated  on  a  ticket-of-leave. 
Puzzled  how  to  proceed,  the  nobleman  had  the  good 
sense  to  apply  for  advice  to  this  Society,  where  it  was 
discovered  that  the  representation  of  the  detective  was 
true  enough,  and  that  the  man  had  been  recommended 
to  a  situation  by  the  Society  itself,  an  intimation  of  his 
antecedents  being  given  to  the  employer.  In  that  situa- 
tion he  had  remained  for  several  months,  without  the 
least  fault  being  brought  against  him,  and  he  then 
applied  for  and  obtained  the  vacant  and  more  lucrative 
appointment  in  the  family  of  his  lordship,  who,  though  he 
acknowledged  he  should  not  have  engaged  him  had  he 
known  of  his  previous  fault  and  its  punishment,  kept  his 
secret,  and  retained  him  in  his  service,  where  he  re- 
mained at  the  time  of  the  last  report,  respected  by  the 
household,  and  faithfully  fulfilling  his  duties. 

Probably  this  was  one  of  those  cases  where,  yielding 
to  sudden  temptation,  a  man  incurs  for  a  single  crime 
punishment  that  awakens  moral  resolution  ;  and  it  must 
be  remembered  that  there  are  many  convicts  who,  while 
in  prison  they  are  practically  undistinguished  from  the 
habitual  or  the  repeated  criminal,  or  from  the  convict  of 
brutalised,  undeveloped,  or  feeble  moral  nature,  are  in 
danger  of  being  utterly  ruined  because  of  a  single  and 
perhaps    altogether    unpremeditated    offence,  of  which. 


WITH  THE  PRISONER.  281 

they  may  bitterly  repent.  The  feeling  of  shame,  of 
humiliation,  of  doubt  as  to  any  but  a  cold  and  deterrent 
reception  by  former  friends,  the  dread  of  scorn,  derision, 
or  abhorrence,  may  lead  such  men  or  women  to  abandon 
as  hopeless  any  expectation  of  resuming  their  former 
avocations,  or  even  of  once  more  attaining  a  respectable 
position.  To  such  as  these  the  Society  offers  such  aid 
as  may  keep  them  from  the  despondency  that  destroys ; 
and  in  every  case,  even  in  that  of  the  wretch  who  has 
been  convicted  again  and  again,  it  holds  out  some 
hope  of  reformation.  That  there  is  some  such  hope 
may  be  learned  from  the  fact,  that  even  thieves — 
"habitual  criminals" — do  not,  as  a  rule,  bring  their  own 
children  up  to  dishonesty,  and  are  often  careful  to  con- 
ceal from  them  the  means  by  which  they  live.  The 
ranks  of  crime  are  not  so  largely  augmented  from  the 
children  of  dishonest  parents  (though,  of  course,  evil 
example  bears  its  dreadful  results)  as  from  the  neglected 
children  of  our  great  towns. 

But  let  us  see  what  are  the  means  adopted  by  the 
Society  for  helping  discharged  prisoners.  Of  course  the 
procedure  must  begin  with  the  prisoners  themselves,  in 
so  far  that  they  must  express  their  willingness  to  accept 
the  aid  offered  to  them,  and  make  known  their  decision 
to  the  governor  of  the  prison  where  they  are  confined, 
and  where  the  rules  and  provisions  of  the  Society  are 
displayed  and  explained. 

This  refers  to  the  convict  prisons,  since  only  these  are 
eligible,  the  prisoners  from  county  gaols  being  assisted 
by  other  organisations ;  therefore,  discharged  convicts 
from  Millbank,  Pentonville,  Portland,  Portsmouth,  Chat- 
ham, Parkhurst,  Dartmoor,  Woking,  and  Brixton,  are 
able  to  seek  help  ;  and  it  is  gratifying  to  know  that, 


282  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS:'' 

according  to  the  prison  returns,  of  1,579  m^le  prisoners 
discharged  from  these  places  in  one  year,  796  sought  aid 
from  this  and  local  provincial  societies  having  the  same 
object,  the  number  of  applicants  to  the  London  Society 
being  524,  or  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  whole. 

On  any  convict,  male  or  female,  accepting  the  offer  of 
the  Society,  and  making  that  decision  known  to  the 
governor  of  the  prison,  the  latter  forwards  to  this  office 
at  Charing  Cross  a  printed  document,  or  recommenda- 
tion, stating  full  particulars  of  the  prisoner's  age,  date  of 
conviction,  number  of  previous  convictions  (if  any),  de- 
gree of  education,  religion,  former  trade  or  employment, 
ability  to  perform  labour,  and  general  character  while  in 
prison,  together  with  the  amount  of  good-conduct  money 
which  is  to  be  allowed  for  work  performed  duringthe  period 
of  incarceration.  This  good-conduct  money  may  amount 
to  a  maximum  sum  of  £3,  and  the  Society  takes  charge 
of  it  for  the  benefit  of  the  prisoner,  disbursing  it  only  as 
it  may  be  required,  and  supplementing  it,  when  necessary, 
by  a  further  grant  of  money,  or  even  by  advances  or 
loans  as  may  be  deemed  desirable  in  certain  cases. 

These  reports  from  the  prison  governor  reach  the  office 
about  six  weeks  before  the  discharge  of  the  convicts 
named  in  them,  and  following  them  come  other  papers, 
each  of  which  contains  a  graphic  personal  description  of 
the  prisoner  referred  to,  and  a  fairly-executed  photograph, 
which  is  usually  not  without  certain  striking  characteris- 
tics, though  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  how  often  you 
fail  to  discover  the  lineaments  which  you  have  associated 
in  fancy  with  lawlessness  and  crime.  At  the  time  of 
their  discharge,  the  men  and  women  are  conducted  hither 
by  a  plainly-clothed  messenger  from  the  prison,  appointed 
for  the  purpose,  and  take  their  places  in  yonder  back 


WITH  THE  PRISONER.  283 

room,  where  they  are  immediately  identified  by  means  of 
the  descriptions  and  photographs,  and  are  then  questioned 
as  to  their  capabilities  and  the  particular  employment  in 
which  they  desire  to  engage.  It  is  manifestly  impossible 
that  the  Society  can  provide  them  with  employment  in 
the  particular  trades  which  they  may  previously  have 
followed,  since  there  may  be  no  openings  in  those  indus- 
tries, or  they  may  be  such  as  would  be  obviously  unsuit- 
able for  persons  who  are  still  on  probation. 

Should  the  prisoner  have  friends  or  relatives  able  and 
willing  to  receive  or  assist  him,  they  are  communicated 
with,  but  should  he  be  entirely  dependent  on  personal 
exertion,  the  agent  or  secretary  at  once  procures  for  him 
a  decent  outfit  of  clothes,  and  a  lodging  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  scene  of  his  former  companions.  A  small  sum 
of  money  is  advanced  for  immediate  subsistence,  and  he 
usually  has  employment  provided  for  him,  either  in  a 
situation,  at  manual  labour,  or  by  being  set  up  in  a 
small  way  at  shoemaking,  tailoring,  or  carpentering,  either 
as  journeyman,  or,  where  possible,  on  his  own  account. 

From  six  to  twenty  prisoners  at  a  time  are  discharged 
from  one  or  other  of  the  convict  establishments  and 
brought  to  the  Society's  offices,  and  of  the  younger  men 
a  considerable  proportion  are  assisted  to  go  to  sea,  others 
— but,  alas  !  too  few — to  emigrate,  while  a  number  obtain 
work  as  builders  and  contractors'  labourers  ;  and  others 
again  resume  former  occupations,  as  potmen,  waiters,  or 
employes  in  various  situations,  where  the  masters  are 
always  (if  they  take  them  on  the  recommendation  of  the 
Society)  fully  apprised  of  their  position.  A  good  many 
are  set  up  again  as  costermongers,  and  in  that  case  the 
agent  of  the  Society  quietly  accompanies  them  to  market, 
and  advances  the  money  for  their  first  purchases  ;  others 


284  "  ABOUT  MY  FA  THER'S  BUSINESS:1 

go  into  the  country  and  obtain  work,  and  not  a  few  of 
the  better-educated  or  more  skilled  soon  obtain  engage- 
ments of  various  kinds,  by  personal  application,  and 
without  reference  to  the  Society,  though  they  continue  to 
report  themselves,  and  to  be  kept  in  view  by  the  agents, 
and,  being  separated  from  evil  companionship,  and  feeling 
that  they  are  not  altogether  friendless,  retrieve  their 
position  and  regain  an  honourable  reputation. 

Of  514  men  and  women  who  were  received  by  the 
Society  during  the  year,  180  obtained  employment  in 
London  and  are  doing  well;  156  were  sent  to  places 
beyond  the  metropolitan  district,  and  were  placed  under 
the  supervision  of  the  local  police;  32  were  sent  to  relatives 
and  friends  abroad  ;  57  obtained  berths  on  board  ship;  50 
had  failed  to  report  and  notify  their  change  of  address 
as  required  by  Act  of  Parliament ;  23  had  been  re-con- 
victed ;  6  were  not  satisfactorily  reported  on  ;  one  had 
died  ;  and  9,  who  had  been  recently  discharged  at  the 
end  of  the  year,  were  waiting  for  employment  at  the  time 
of  the  Report.  To  read  the  Report  Book,  recording  the 
visits  of  the  agents  or  secretary  to  men  employed  in 
various  avocations,  and  to  their  friends  or  relatives,  is 
very  encouraging,  for  it  shows  that  of  a  large  proportion, 
say  seventy  per  cent,  there  is  a  good  hope  of  recla- 
mation by  their  long  continuance  in  industrious  efforts  to 
retain  their  situations  and  to  work  honestly  in  various 
callings ;  while  the  reports  of  country  cases  by  clergy- 
men in  the  provinces  is  equally  satisfactory,  especially  as 
they  frequently  record  the  return  of  the  former  convict 
to  his  family  and  friends,  amidst  whom  he  earns  an 
honourable  subsistence. 

The  female  convicts,  who  are  also  received  at  the  office, 
are,   if  they  cannot  be  sent  to   relatives   and   friends,. 


WITH  THE  PRISONER.  285 

mostly  taken  to  a  Refuge,  which  has  been  established  by 
the  Society  at  Streatham,  where  they  find  a  home  until 
situations  can  be  obtained  for  them  ;  and  it  is  to  the 
credit  of  some  earnest  ladies  who  are  willing  to  engage 
these  discharged  prisoners  as  domestic  servants  that  the 
result  is  often  most  favourable.  A  very  large  proportion 
of  the  women  return  to  friends,  however.  Of  53  who 
left  the  Refuge  at  Streatham  last  year,  30  were  received 
by  friends,  18  obtained  situations,  3  returned  to  Millbank 
Penitentiary,  1  emigrated,  and  I  died,  25  remaining  at 
the  Refuge  at  the  time  of  the  report. 

In  the  case  of  these  discharged  female  prisoners,  as 
well  as  for  the  sake  of  those  men  who  would  eagerly 
seize  an  opportunity  of  beginning  life  anew  in  a  new 
country,  it  would  be  most  desirable  if  greater  facilities 
existed  for  promoting  and  assisting  the  emigration  of 
such  as  gave  satisfactory  evidence  of  reformation  of 
character.  The  Society  finds  its  own  funds,  supported 
by  contributions  from  the  public,  barely  sufficient  to 
maintain,  and  insufficient  largely  to  extend  its  useful 
work.  One  of  the  committee,  a  resident  in  Canada,  has 
rendered  invaluable  assistance  to  emigrants  recommended 
to  his  notice  by  the  Society.  The  governor  of  Dartmoor 
Prison  in  his  Report,  says  : — 

"  I  cannot  too  strongly  again  express  my  conviction 
that  an  emigration  scheme  connected  with  the  Aid 
Societies  would  be  an  invaluable  aid  to  the  restoration  of 
many  casual  criminals  to  a  position  of  respectability  and 
honesty.  It  would  be  especially  appreciated  by  those 
(unfortunately  a  too  numerous  class)  who  had  incurred 
the  shorter  sentences  of  penal  servitude  as  punishments 
for  breaches  of  trust  of  various  kinds.  These  men  are 
often  cast  off  by  their  respectable  friends,  and,  from  the 


286  "  ABOUT  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS? 

shortness  of  their  sentences,  are  unable  to  earn  the  addi- 
tional gratuity.  With  no  lasting  means  of  subsistence, 
and  an  overstocked  market  for  their  labour,  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  if  such  men  speedily  add  a  second 
conviction  to  their  criminal  career."  Let  us  trust  that 
practical  steps  will  be  taken  to  remove  this  difficulty. 


THE   END. 


BILLING   AND   SONS,    PRINTERS,   GUILDFORD,    SURKEY- 


January,   1876. 


AN    ALPHABETICAL     LIST 

OF 

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6j  Comhill,  and  12  Paternoster  Row,  London, 
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SCIENCE.     Fifth  Edition.     5s. 

Vol.  XIII.  of  the  International  Scientific  Series. 

Drew  (Eev.  G-.  S.),  M.A.,  Vicar  of  Trinity,  Lambeth. 

SCRIPTURE  LANDS  IN  CONNECTION  WITH  THEIR 
HISTORY.     Second  Edition.     Svo.     10s.  6d. 

NAZARETH:  ITS  LIFE  AND  LESSONS.  Third  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     5s. 

THE  DIVINE  KINGDOM  ON  EARTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  HEAVEN. 
8vo.    10s.  6d. 


Henry  S.  King  &  Co.'s  Publications.  15 

Drew  (Kev.  G.  S.),  M.A. 

THE  SON  OF  MAN:  His  Life  and  Ministry.  Crown  Svo. 
7s.  6d. 

Drewry  (G-.  Overend),  M.D. 

THE  COMMON-SENSE  MANAGEMENT  OF  THE  STOMACH. 

Fcap.  8vo.    Second  Edition.     2s.  Qd. 

Durand  (Lady). 

IMITATIONS  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  SPITTA  AND 
TERSTEGEN.     Fcap.  Svo.     4s. 

Du  Yernois  (Colonel  von  Yerdy). 

STUDIES  IN  LEADING  TROOPS.  An  authorized  and  accurate 
Translation  by  Lieutenant  H.  J.  T.  Hildyard,  71st  Foot.  Parts  I. 
and  II.     Demy  8vo.     7s. 

This  is  one  of  Henry  S.  King  and  Co.'s  Series  of  Military  Works. 

E.  A.  Y. 

JOSEPH  MAZZINI  :  A  Memoir.  With  Two  Essays  by 
Mazzini — "  Thoughts  on  Democracy,"  and  "  The  Duties  of 
Man."  Dedicated  to  the  Working  Classes  by  P.  H.  Taylor,  M.P. 
Crown  Svo.     With  Two  Portraits.     3s.  6d. 

Eden  (Frederic). 

THE  NILE  WITHOUT  A  DRAGOMAN.  Second  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     7s.  6d. 

Edwards  (Eev.  Basil). 

MINOR   CHORDS;    OR,    SONGS    FOR   THE   SUFFERING:   a 

Volume  of  Verse.     Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  3s.  6d. ;  paper,  2s.  6d. 

ElLOART  (Mrs.) 

LADY  MORETOUN'S  DAUGHTER.     3  vols.     Crown  8vo. 

English  Clergyman. 

an  essay  on  the  rule  of  faith  and  creed  of 

ATHANASIUS.      Shall    the    Rubric    preceding    the    Creed  be 
removed  from  the  Prayer-book  ?    Svo.     Sewed.     Is. 

Eros  Agonistes.     Poems.     By  E.  B.  D.     Fcap.  Svo. 
3s.  Qd. 

Evans  (Mark). 

THE  STORY  OF  OUR  FATHER'S  LOVE,  told  to  Children; 
being  a  New  and  Enlarged  Edition  of  Theology  for  Children. 
Fcap.  Svo.     3s.  6d. 

A  BOOK  OF  COMMON  PRAYER  AND  WORSHIP  FOR 
HOUSEHOLD  USE,  compiled  exclusively  from  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures.    Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  2s.  6d. 


16  A  List  of 

Eyre  (Maj.-Gen.  Sir  Vincent),  C.B.,  K.C.S.I.,  etc. 

LAYS  OF  A  KNIGHT-ERRANT  IN  MANY  LANDS.  Square 
crown  8vo.     With  Six  Illustrations.     7s.  6d. 

Pharaoh  Land.  |  Home  Land.  |  Wonder  Land.  |  Rhine  Land. 

Faithfull  (Mrs.  Francis  G.) 

LOVE  ME,  OR  LOVE  ME  NOT.     3  vols.     Crown  8vo. 

Farquh  arson  (Martha). 

I.  ELSIE  DINSMORE.  Crown  8vo.     3s.  Gd. 
II.  ELSIE'S  GIRLHOOD.    Crown  8vo.    3s.  6d. 
III.  ELSIE'S  HOLIDAYS  AT  ROSELANDS.    Crown  8vo.   3s.  Qd. 
These  are  volumes  of  Henry  S.  King  and  Co.'s  Series  of  Three 
and  Sixpenny  Books  for  the  Young. 

Favre  (Mons.  Jules). 

THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  THE  NATIONAL  DEFENCE.  From 
the  30th  June  to  the  31st  October,  1870.  The  Plain  Statement 
of  a  Member.     1  vol.     Demy  8vo.     10s.  6c?. 

Fisher  (Alice). 

HIS  QUEEN.     3  vols.     Crown  Svo. 

Forbes  (Archibald). 

SOLDIERING  AND  SCRIBBLING.  A  Series  of  Sketches. 
Crown  Svo.     7s.  6d. 

FOTHERGILL  (JESSIE). 

HEALEY.     A  Eomance.     3  vols.     Crown  8vo. 

Fowle  (Eev.  T.  W.),  M.A. 

THE     RECONCILIATION     OF     RELIGION    AND    SCIENCE. 

Being  Essays  on  Immortality,  Inspiration,  Miracles,  and  the 
Being  of  Christ.     Demy  Svo.     10s.  6d. 

Fraser   (Donald),   Accountant  to  the  British-Indian 

Steam  Navigation  Company,  Limited. 

EXCHANGE  TABLES  OF  STERLING  AND  INDIAN  RUPEE 
CURRENCY,  upon  a  new  and  extended  system,  embracing  Values 
from  One  Farthing  to  One  Hundred  Thousand  Pounds,  and  at 
Rates  progressing,  in  Sixteenths  of  a  Penny,  from  Is.  9d.  to 
2s.  3d.  per  Rupee.     Royal  Svo.     10s.  6d. 

Frere  (Sir  H.  Bartle  E.),  G-.C.B.,  G.C.S.I.,  etc. 

THE  THREATENED  FAMINE  IN  BENGAL;  How  it  may  be 

Met,  and  the  Recurrence  of  Famines  in  India  Prevented.  Being 
No.  1  of  "  Occasional  Notes  on  Indian  Affairs."  Crown  8vo. 
With  3  Maps.     5s. 


Henry  S.  King  &  Co.'s  Publications.  17 

Feiswell  (J.  Hain). 

THE  BETTER  SELF.     Essays  for  Home  Life.     Crown  8vo.    6s. 

Contents: — Beginning  at  Home— The  Girls  at  Home — The 
Wife's  Mother — Pride  in  the  Family — Discontent  and  Grumbling 
— Domestic  Economy — On  Keeping  People  Down — Likes  and 
Dislikes — On  Falling  Out — Peace. 

ONE  OF  TWO;  or,  The  Left-Handed  Bride.  Crown  8vo. 
With  a  Frontispiece.     3s.  6d. 

Being  a  Volume  of  the  Cornhill  Library  of  Fiction. 

Gaednee  (John),  M.D. 

LONGEVITY;  THE  MEANS  OF  PROLONGING  LIFE  AFTER 
MIDDLE  AGE.  Third  Edition,  revised  and  enlarged.  Small 
crown  8vo.    4s. 

Gaeeett  (Edward). 

BY  STILL  WATERS.  A  Story  for  Quiet  Hours.  Crown  8vo. 
With  Seven  Illustrations.     6s. 

Gibbon  (Charles). 

FOR  LACK  OF  GOLD.   Crown  8vo.   With  a  Frontispiece.   3s.  6d. 

ROBIN  GRAY.     Crown  8vo.     With  a  Frontispiece.     3s.  6d. 
The  above  Volumes  form  part  of  the  Cornhill  Library  of  Fiction. 

Gilbert  (Mrs.) 

MRS.  GILBERT,  FORMERLY  ANN  TAYLOR,  AUTOBIO- 
GRAPHY AND  OTHER  MEMORIALS  OF.  Edited  by  Josiah 
Gilbert.  In  2  vols.  Post  8vo.  With  2  Steel  Portraits  and 
several  Wood  Engravings.     24s. 

Gill  (Rev.  W.  W.j 

MYTHS  AND  SONGS  OF  THE  SOUTH  PACIFIC.  With  a 
Preface  by  F.  Max  Miiller,  M.A.,  Professor  of  Comparative 
Philology  at  Oxford.     1  vol.     Post  8vo. 

Godkin  (James). 

THE  RELIGIOUS  HISTORY  OF  IRELAND :  Primitive,  Papal, 
and  Protestant.  Including  the  Evangelical  Missions,  Catholic 
Agitations,  and  Church  Progress  of  the  last  half  Century.  1  vol. 
8vo.     12s. 

Godwin  (William). 

WILLIAM  GODWIN:  HIS  FRIENDS  AND  CONTEMPO- 
RARIES.  By  C.  Kegan  Paul.    2  vols.   Demy  8vo.   With  Portraits. 

THE  GENIUS  OF  CHRISTIANITY  UNVEILED.  Being  Essays 

never  before  published.  Edited,  with  a  Preface,  by  C.  Kegan 
Paul.     1  vol.    Crown  8vo.   7s.  6d. 

B  6 


18  A  List  of 

Goetze  (Capt.  A.  von),  Captain  of  the  Prussian  Corps 
of  Engineers  attached  to  the  Engineer  Committee,  and  Instructor 
at  the  Military  Academy. 

OPEEATIONS  OF  THE  GERMAN  ENGINEERS  DURING  THE 
WAR  OF  1870-1871.  Published  by  Authority,  and  in  accordance 
•with  Official  Documents.  Translated  from  the  German  by 
Colonel  G.  Graham,  V.C.,  C.B.,  K.E.  Demy  8yo.  Cloth.  With 
6  large  Maps.     21s. 

Goodman  (Walter). 

CUBA,  THE  PEARL  OF  THE  ANTILLES.     Crown  8vo.    7s.  Gd. 

Gosse  (Edmund  W.) 

ON  VIOL  AND  FLUTE.  With  Title-page  specially  designed 
by  William  B.  Scott.     Crown  Svo.     5s. 

Granville  (A.  B.),  MJ),  F.B.S.,  etc. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A.  B.  GRANVILLE,  F.R.S.,  etc. 
Edited,  with  a  brief  account  of  the  concluding  years  of  his  life,  by 
his  youngest  Daughter,  Paulina  B.  Granville.  2  vols.  Demy 
8m     With  a  Portrait.     32s. 

Gray  (Mrs.  Russell). 

LISETTE'S  VENTURE.     A  Novel.     2  vols.     Crown  Svo.     21s. 

Green  (T.  Bowden). 

FRAGMENTS  OF  THOUGHT.  Dedicated  by  permission  to  the 
Poet  Laureate.     Crown  Svo.    7s.  6d. 

Greenwood  (James),  "  The  Amateur  Casual." 

IN  STRANGE  COMPANY ;  or,  The  Note  Book  of  a  Roving 
Correspondent.     Second  Edition.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 

Grey  (John),  of  Dilston. 

JOHN  GREY  (of  Dilston):  MEMOIRS.  By  Josephine  E. 
Butler.     New  and  Cheaper  Edition.     Crown  Svo.    3s.  6d. 

Griffith  (Key.  T.),  A.M.,  Prebendary  of  St.  Paul's. 

STUDIES  OF  THE  DIVINE  MASTER.     Demy  Svo.     12s. 

Griffiths  (Captain  Arthur). 

THE  QUEEN'S  SHILLING.     A  Novel.     2  vols.     21s. 

MEMORIALS  OF  MILLBANK,  AND  CHAPTERS  IN  PRISON 
HISTORY.     2  vols.     Post  Svo.     21s.     With  IUustrations. 

Gruner  (M.  L.) 

STUDIES  OF  BLAST  FURNACE  PHENOMENA.  Translated 
by  L.  D.  B.  Gordon,  F.R.S.E.,  F.G.S.     Demy  Svo.    Is.  6d. 


Henry  S.  King  &  Co.'s  Publications.  19 

Gurxey  (Kev.  Archer  Thompson). 

WORDS  OF  FAITH  AND  CHEER.  A  Mission  of  Instruction 
and  Suggestion.     1  vol.     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

FIRST  PRINCIPLES  IN  CHURCH  AND  STATE.  Demy  8vo. 
Sewed.     Is.  6d. 

Haeckel  (Professor  Ernst),  of  the  University  of  Jena. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  CREATION.  A  Popular  Account  of  the 
Development  of  the  Earth  and  its  Inhabitants,  according  to  the 
Theories  of  Kant,  Laplace,  Lamarck,  and  Darwin.  The  Transla- 
tion revised  by  Professor  E.  Kay  Lankester,  M.A.,  F.K.S.  With 
Coloured  Plates  and  Genealogical  Trees  of  the  various  groups 
of  both  plants  and  animals.     2  vols.     Post  8vo.     32s. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  EVOLUTION  OF  MAN.  Translated 
by  E.  A.  Van  Ehyn  and  L.  Elsberg,  M.D.  (University  of  New 
York),  with  Notes  and  Additions  sanctioned  by  the  Author. 
Post  8vo. 

Harcourt  (Capt.  A.  F.  P.) 

THE  SHAKESPEARE  ARGOSY:  Containing  much  of  the  wealth 
of  Shakespeare's  Wisdom  and  Wit,  alphabetically  arranged  and 
classified.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 

Haweis  (Kev.  H.  E.),  M.A. 

SPEECH   IN   SEASON.     Third  Edition.     Crown  8vo.     9s. 

THOUGHTS  FOR  THE  TIMES.  Eighth  Edition.  Crown  Svo. 
7s.  Gd. 

UNSECTARIAN  FAMILY  PRAYERS,  for  Morning  and  Even- 
ing for  a  Week,  with  short  selected  passages  from  the  Bible. 
Square  crown  bvo.     3s.  6d. 

Hawthorne  (Julian). 

BRESSANT.     A  Romance.     2  vols.     Crown  8vo.     21s. 
IDOLATRY.     A  Romance.     2  vols.     Crown  8vo.     21s. 

Hawthorne  (Nathaniel). 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE.  A  Memoir,  with  Stories  now 
first  published  in  this  country.   By  H.  A.  Page.    Post  8vo.   Is.  6d. 

SEPTIMIUS.     A  Romance.     Second  Edition.     Crown  8vo.     9s. 

Hayman  (Henry),  D.D.,  late  Head  Master  of  Kugby 

School. 

RUGBY  SCHOOL  SERMONS.  With  an  Introductory  Essay  on 
the  Indwelling  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     Crown  Svo.     7s.  6d. 

Heathergate.    A  Story  of  Scottish  Life  and  Character. 

By  a  Xew  Author.     2  vols.     Crown  Svo.     21s. 


20  A  List  of 

Hellwald  (Baron  F.  Yon). 

THE  RUSSIANS  IN  CENTRAL  ASIA.  A  Critical  Examination, 
down  to  the  present  time,  of  the  Geography  and  History  of 
Central  Asia.  Translated  by  Lieut.-Col.  Theodore  Wirgman, 
LL.B.    In  1  vol.     Large  post  8vo.     With  Map.     12s. 

Helvig  (Captain  Hugo). 

THE   OPERATIONS    OF    THE    BAVARIAN    ARMY    CORPS. 

Translated  by  Captain  G.  S.  Schwabe.    With  Five  large  Maps. 
In  2  vols.     Demy  8vo.     24s. 
This  is  one  of  Henry  S.  King  and  Co.'s  Series  of  Military  Books. 

Hinton  (James),  late  Aural  Surgeon  to  Guy's  Hospital. 

THE  PLACE  OF  THE  PHYSICIAN.  Being  the  Introductory 
Lecture  at  Guy's  Hospital,  1873-74 ;  to  which  is  added  Essays 
on  the  Law  op  Human  Life,  and  on  the  Kelation  between 
Organic  and  Inorganic  Worlds.  Second  Edition.  Crown  8vo. 
3s.  6d. 

PHYSIOLOGY  FOR  PRACTICAL  USE.  By  various  writers. 
Second  Edition.  With  50  Illustrations.  2  vols.  Crown  8vo.  12s.  6c?. 

AN  ATLAS  OF  DISEASES  OF  THE  MEMBRANA  TYMPANI. 
With  Descriptive  Text.     Post  8vo.    £6  6s. 

THE  QUESTIONS  OF  AURAL  SURGERY.  Post  8vo.  With 
Illustrations.     2  vols.     12s.  6d. 

Hockley  (W.  B.) 

TALES  OF  THE  ZENANA;  or,  A  Nuwab's  Leisure  Hours. 
By  the  Author  of  "  Pandurang  Hari."  With  a  Preface  by  Lord 
Stanley  of  Alderley.     2  vols.     Crown  8vo.     21s. 

PANDURANG  HARI ;  or,  Memoirs  of  a  Hindoo.  A  Tale  of 
Mahratta  Life  sixty  years  ago.  With  a  Preface  by  Sir  H.  Bartle 
E.  Frere,  G.C.S.I.,  etc.    2  vols.     Crown  8vo.    21s. 

Hoffbauer  (Captain). 

THE  GERMAN  ARTILLERY  IN  THE  BATTLES  NEAR  METZ. 

Based  on  the  official  reports  of  the  German  Artillery.   Translated 
by  Capt.  E.  0.  Hollist.     Demy  8vo.     With  Map  and  Plans.     21s. 
This  is  one  of   the  volumes   in  Henry   S.   King  and  Co.'s 
Military  Series. 

Holroyd   (Major  W.   E.   M.),   Bengal    Staff    Corps, 

Director  of  Public  Instruction,  Punjab. 

TAS-HIL  UL  KALAM;  or,  Hindustani  made  Easy.  Crown 
8vo.    5s. 

Hope  (Lieut.  James). 

IN  QUEST  OF  COOLIES.    With  Illustrations.    Crown  8vo.    6*. 


Henry  S.  King  &  Co.'s  Publications.  21 

HOOPEE  (Mrs.  G.) 

THE  HOUSE  OF  EABY.  With  a  Frontispiece.  Crown  8vo. 
3s.  6d. 

One  of  the  volumes  of  the  Cornhill  Library  of  Fiction. 

Hooper  (Mary). 

LITTLE   DINNERS:    HOW  TO   SERVE  THEM  WITH  ELE- 
GANCE AND  ECONOMY.   Ninth  Edition.   1  vol.    Crown  8vo.   5s. 
COOKERY  FOR  INVALIDS.     Crown  8vo.    3s.  6d. 

Hopkins  (Manley). 

THE  PORT  OF  REFUGE;  or,  Counsel  and  Aid  to  Ship- 
masters in  Difficulty,  Doubt,  or  Distress.     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

Howard  (Mary  M.),  Author  of  "  Brampton  Kectory." 

BEATRICE  AYLMER,  AND  OTHER  TALES.    Crown  8vo.    6s. 

Howard  (Kev.  G-.  B.) 

AN  OLD  LEGEND  OF  ST.  PAUL'S.     Fcap.  8vo.    4s.  6d. 

Howe  (Cupples),  Master  Mariner. 

THE  DESERTED  SHIP.  A  real  story  of  the  Atlantic.  Illus- 
trated by  Townley  Green.     Crown  8vo.     3s.  6d. 

One  of  Henry  S.  King  and  Co.'s  Three  and  Sixpenny  Books 
for  the  Young. 

Howell  (James). 

A    TALE    OF   THE  SEA,  SONNETS,   AND    OTHER   POEMS. 

Fcap.  Svo.     5s. 

Hughes  (Allison). 

PENELOPE,  AND  OTHER  POEMS.     Fcap.  Svo.     4s.  6d. 

Hull  (Edmund  C.  P.) 

THE  EUROPEAN  IN  INDIA.  A  Handbook  of  Practical  In- 
formation for  those  proceeding  to,  or  residing  in,  the  East  Indies, 
relating  to  Outfits,  Routes,  Time  for  Departure,  Indian  Climate, 
etc.  With  a  Medical  Guide  for  Anglo-Indians.  By  R.  R.  S. 
Mair,  M.D.,  F.R.C.S.E.,  late  Deputy  Coroner  of  Madras.  Second 
Edition,  Revised  and  Corrected.    In  1  vol.     Post  8vo.     6s. 

Humphrey   (Kev.   W.),   of  the   Congregation   of  the 

Oblates  of  St.  Charles. 

MR.  FITZJAMES  STEPHEN  AND  CARDINAL  BELLARMINE. 
Demy  Svo.     Sewed.     Is. 

Hutton  (James). 

MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN  THE  SOUTHERN  SEAS.  With  Illus- 
trations.    Crown  Svo.     7s.  6d. 


22  A  List  of 

International  Scientific  Series  (The). 

I.  THE  FORMS  OF  WATER  IN  CLOUDS  AND  RIVERS.  ICE 
AND  GLACIERS.  By  J.  Tyndall,  LL.D..  F.E.S.  With  14 
Illustrations.     Fifth  Edition.     5s. 

II.  PHYSICS  AND  POLITICS :  or,  Thoughts  on  the  Application  of 
the  Principles  of  ;>  Natural  Selection  "  and  "  Inheritance  " 
to  Political  Society.   By  Walter  Bagehot.   Third  Edition.  4>. 

III.  FOODS.     By  Edward  Smith,  M.D.,  LL.B.,  F.E.S.     Profusely 

Illustrated.     Third  Edition.     5s. 

IV.  MIND   AND   BODY:    The    Theories   of  their    Eelation.     By 

Alexander  Bain.  LL.D.     Fourth  Edition.    With  Four  Illus- 
trations,    is. 

V.  TEE  STUDY  OF  SOCIOLOGY.  By  Herbert  Spencer.  Fourth 
Edition,     os. 

VI.  ON  THE  CONSERVATION  OF  ENERGY.  By  Balfour  Stewart. 
M.D.,  LL.D..  F.E.S.  With  14  Engravings.  Third  Edition.  5*. 

VII.  ANIMAL  LOCOMOTION;  or.  Walking,  Swimming,  and  Flying. 
By  J.  B.  Pettigrew.  M.D.,  F.E.S.  Second  Edition.  With 
119  Illustrations.     5s. 

VIII.  RESPONSIBILITY  IN  MENTAL  DISEASE.  By  Henry 
Maudsley,  M.D.     Second  Edition.     5s. 

IX.  THE  NEW  CHEMISTRY.  By  Professor  J.  P.  Cooke,  of  the 
Harvard  University.  Second  Edition.  With  31  Illus- 
trations.    5s. 

X.  THE  SCIENCE  OF  LAW.  By  Professor  Sheldon  Amos. 
Second  Edition.     5s. 

XL  ANIMAL  MECHANISM.  A  Treatise  on  Terrestrial  and  Aerial 
Locomotion.  By  Professor  E.  J.  Marey.  With  117  Illus- 
trations.    Second  Edition.     5s. 

XII.  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  DESCENT  AND  DARWINISM.  By 
Professor  Oscar  Schmidt  (Strasburg  University).  Second 
Edition.     With  26  Illustrations.     5s. 

XIII.  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  RELIGION 
AND  SCIENCE.  By  Professor  J.  W.  Draper.  Fifth 
Edition.     5*. 


Henry  S.  King  &  Co.'s  Publications.  23 

International  Scientific  Series  (The). 

XIV.  FUNGI ;  their  Nature,  Influences,  Uses,  etc.  By  M.  C.  Cooke, 
M.A.,  LL.D.  Edited  by  the  Rev.  M.  J.  Berkeley,  M.A., 
F.L.S.     Second  Edition.    With  numerous  Illustrations.     5s. 

XV.  THE  CHEMICAL  EFFECTS  OF  LIGHT  AND  PHOTOGRAPHY. 

By  Dr.  Hermann  Vogel  (Polytechnic  Academy  of  Berlin). 
Third  Edition,  translation  thoroughly  revised.  With  100 
Illustrations.     5s. 

XVI.  THE   LIFE   AND   GROWTH   OF   LANGUAGE.      By  William 

Dwight  Whitney,  Professor  of  Sanskrit  and  Comparative 
Philology  in  Yale  College,  New  Haven.   Second  Edition.   5s. 

XVII.  MONEY  AND  THE  MECHANISM  OF  EXCHANGE.     By  Prof. 

W.  Stanley  Jevons.     Second  Edition.     5s. 

XVIII.  THE    NATURE    OF    LIGHT :    With  a  General  Account  of 

Physical  Optics.  By  Dr.  Eugene  Lommel,  Professor  of 
Physics  in  the  University  of  Erlangen.  Second  Edition. 
With  188  Illustrations  and  a  table  of  Spectra  in  Chromo- 
lithography.     5s. 

XIX.  ANIMAL  PARASITES  AND  MESSMATES.  By  Monsieur 
Van  Beneden,  Professor  of  the  University  of  Louvain,  Cor. 
respondent  of  the  Institute  of  France.  With  83  Illustra- 
tions.    5s. 

XX.  THE   FIVE  SENSES   OF   MAN.     By  Professor  Bernstein,  of 
the  University  of  Halle.     Crown  8vo. 

XXI.  ON  FERMENTATION.  By  Professor  Schutzenberger,  Director 
of  the  Chemical  Laboratory  at  the  Sorbonne.     Crown  8vo. 


24  A  List  of 

International  Scientific  Series  (The). 

Forthcoming  Volumes. 

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Prof.  De  Quatrefages.     The  Human  Race. 

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B 


c 


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F.R.S.,  late  Director  of  the  Observatories.  "With  an  Appendix. 
Imp.  4to.     Cloth.     £3  3s. 

***  The  Appendix,  containing  Reports  on  the  Observatories  and 
on  the  Public  Museum,  Public  Park,  and  Gardens  at  Trevandrum, 
pp.  xii.-116,  may  be  had  separately.     21s. 


44  A  List  of 


Turner  (Kev.  Charles). 

SONNETS,  LYRICS,  AND  TRANSLATIONS.   Crown  Svo.  4s.  6c?. 

Tyndall  (J.),  LLD.,  F.RS. 

THE  FORMS  OF  WATER  IN  CLOUDS  AND  RIVERS,  ICE 
AND  GLACIERS.  With  Twenty-six  Illustrations.  Fifth 
Edition.     Crown  8vo.     5s. 

Volume  I.  of  the  International  Scientific  Series. 

Umbra  Oxoniensis. 

results   of   the   expostulation   of   the   right 

HONOURABLE   W.   E.   GLADSTONE,  in  their   Relation  to  the 
"Unity  of  Roman  Catholicism.     Large  fcap.  Svo.     5s. 

Upton  (Roger  D.),  Captain  late  9th  Royal  Lancers. 

NEWMARKET  AND  ARABIA.  An  Examination  of  the 
Descent  of  Racers  and  Coursers.  With  Pedigrees  and  Frontis- 
piece.    Post  8vo.     9s. 

Vambery  (Prof.  Arminius),  of  the  University  of  Pesth. 

BOKHARA  :   Its  History  and  Conquest.    Demy  8vo.    18s. 

Vanessa.     By  the  Author  of  "  Thomasina,"  etc.     A 
Novel.     Second  Edition.     2  vols.     Crown  Svo. 

Vatjghan  (Rev.  C.  J.),  D.D. 

WORDS  OF  HOPE  FROM  THE  PULPIT  OF  THE  TEMPLE 
CHURCH.     Third  Edition.     Crown  8vo.     5s. 

THE  SOLIDITY  OF  TRUE  RELIGION,  and  other  Sermons 
Preached  in  London  during  the  Election  and  Mission  Week, 
February,  1874.     Crown  8vo.     3s.  6d. 

FORGET  THINE  OWN  PEOPLE.  An  Appeal  for  Missions. 
Crown  Svo.     3s.  6d. 

THE  YOUNG  LIFE  EQUIPPING  ITSELF  FOR  GOD'S  SER- 
VICE. Being  Four  Sermons  Preached  before  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  in  November,  1872.  Fourth  Edition.  Crown  Svo. 
3s.  6d. 

Vincent  (Capt.  C.  E.  XL),  late  Koyal  Welsh  Fusiliers. 

ELEMENTARY  MILITARY  GEOGRAPHY,  RECONNOITRING, 
AND  SKETCHING.  Compiled  for  Non-Commissioned  Officers 
and  Soldiers  of  all  Arms.     Square  crown  8vo.     2s.  6d. 

RUSSIA'S  ADVANCE  EASTWARD.  Based  on  the  Official 
Reports  of  Lieutenant  Hugo  Stumm,  German  Military  Attache 
to  the  Khivan  Expedition.     With  Map.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 


Henry  S.  King  &  Co's  Puhlications.  45 

Vizcata  ;  or,  Life  in  the  Land  of  the  Carlists. 

VIZCAYA  ;  or,  Life  in  the  Land  of  the  Carlists  at  the  Outbreak 
of  the  Insurrection,  with  some  Account  of  the  Iron  Mines  and 
other  Characteristics  of  the  Country.  "With  a  Map  and  Eight 
Illustrations.     Crown  8vo.     9s. 

Vogel  (Prof.),  Polytechnic  Academy  of  Berlin. 

THE  CHEMICAL  EFFECTS  OF  LIGHT  AND  PHOTOGRAPHY, 

in    their    application    to   Art,    Science,   and    Industry.       Third 
Edition.     The  translation  thoroughly  revised.     With  100  Illus- 
trations, including  some  beautiful  Specimens  of  Photography.    5s. 
Volume  XV.  of  the  International  Scientific  Series. 

Vyner  (Lady  Mary). 

EVERY  'DAY  A  PORTION.  Adapted  from  the  Bible  and 
the  Prayer  Book,  for  the  Private  Devotions  of  those  living  in 
Widowhood.  Collected  and  Edited  by  Lady  Mary  Vyner.  Square 
crown  8vo.     Elegantly  bound.     5s. 

Waiting  for  Tidings. 

WAITING  FOR  TIDINGS.  By  the  Author  of  "White  and 
Black."     3  vols.     Crown  8vo. 

Wartensleben  (Count  Hermann  von),  Colonel  in  the 

Prussian  General  Staff. 

THE  OPERATIONS  OF  THE  SOUTH  ARMY  IN  JANUARY 
AND  FEBRUARY,  1871.  Compiled  from  the  Official  War  Docu- 
ments of  the  Head-quarters  of  the  Southern  Army.  Translated 
by  Colonel  C.  H.  von  Wright.     With  Maps.     Demy  8vo.     6s. 

THE  OPERATIONS  OF  THE  FIRST  ARMY  UNDER  GEN. 
VON  MANTEUFFEL.  Translated  by  Colonel  C.  H.  von  Wright. 
Uniform  with  the  above.     Demy  8vo.     9s. 

These  works  form  separate  volumes  of  Henry  S.  King  and 
Co.'s  Military  Series. 

Wedmore  (Frederick). 

TWO  GIRLS.     2  vols.     Crown  8vo. 

Wells  (Captain  John  C),  K.N. 

SPITZBERGEN— THE  GATEWAY  TO  THE  POLYNIA;   or,  A 

Voyage  to  Spitzbergen.  With  numerous  Illustrations  by  Whymper 
and  others,  and  Map.     8vo.     21s. 

Wetmore  (W.  S.). 

COMMERCIAL  TELEGRAPHIC  CODE.    Post  4to.    Boards.    42s. 

What  'tis  to  Love.    By  the  Author  of  "  Flora  Adair," 

"  The  Value  of  Fostertown. "     3  vols.     Crown  8vo. 


46  A  List  of 


Whitney  (William  D  wight).     Professor  of  Sanskrit 
and  Comparative  Philology  in  Yale  College,  New  Haven. 

THE  LIFE  AND  GROWTH  OF  LANGUAGE.    Second  Edition. 
Grown  Svo.     5s.     Copyright  Edition. 
Volume  XVI.  of  the  International  Scientific  Series. 

Whittle  (J.  Lowry),  A.M.,  Trin.  Coll.,  Dublin. 

CATHOLICISM  AND  THE  VATICAN.  With  a  Narrative  of  the 
Old  Catholic  Congress  at  Munich.  Second  Edition.  Crown  8vo. 
4s.  Gd. 

Wilberforce  (Henry  W.  | 

THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  EMFIRES.  Historical  Periods. 
Preceded  bv  a  Memoir  of  the  Author  bv  John  Henrv  Xewman, 
D.D.,  of  the  Oratory.     With  Portrait.     Post  Svo.     10s.  6d. 

Wilkinson  (T.  Lean). 

SHORT  LECTURES  ON  THE  LAND  LAWS.     Delivered  before 

the  Working  Men's  College.     Crown  Svo.     2s. 

Williams  (Eev.  Eowland),  D.D. 

LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  ROWLAND  WILLIAMS,  D.D..  with 
Selections  from  his  Note-books.  Edited  by  Mrs.  Piowland 
Williams.  With  a  Photographic  Portrait.  2  vols.  Large  post 
Svo.     24s. 

Willoughbt  (The  Hon.  Mrs.) 

ON  THE  NORTH  WIND— THISTLEDOWN.  A  Volume  of 
Poems.     Elegantly  bound.     Small  crown  Svo.     7*  Gd. 

Wilson  (H.  Schiitz). 

STUDIES  AND  ROMANCES.     Crown  Svo.     7.?.  Gd. 

WlNTERBOTHAM  (Eev.  R.),  3I.A.,  B.Sc. 

SERMONS  AND  EXPOSITIONS.     Crown  Svo.     7-?.  Gd. 

Wood  (C.  P.) 

A  YACHTING  CRUISE  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS.  Demy  Svo. 
With  Six  Photographic  Illustrations.     7s.  Gd. 

Wright  (Rev.  W.),  of  Stoke  Bishop,  Bristol. 

MAN  AND  ANIMALS :  A  Sermon.  Crown  Svo.  Stitched  in 
wrapper.     Is. 

WAITING  FOR  THE  LIGHT,  AND  OTHER  SERMONS.  Crown 
Svo.     6s. 


Henry  S.  King  &  Co.'s  Publications.  47 

Wyld  (E.  S.),  F.K.S.E. 

THE  PHYSICS  AND  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  SENSES;  or, 
The  Mental  and  the  Physical  in  their  Mutual  Eelation.  Illus- 
trated by  several  Plates.     Demy  8vo.     16s. 

Yonge    (C.  D.),   Eegius   Professor,   Queen's   College, 
Belfast. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  ENGLISH  EEVOLUTION  OF  1688.  Crown 
8vo.     6«. 

Yokke    (Stephen),   Author   of  "Tales   of   the   North 
Eiding." 

CLEVEDEN.     A  Novel.     2  vols.     Crown  Svo. 

Youmans  (Eliza  A.) 

AN  ESSAY  ON  THE  CULTUEE  OF  THE  OBSERVING 
POWERS  OF  CHILDREN,  especially  in  connection  with  the 
Study  of  Botany.  Edited,  with  Notes  and  a  Supplement,  by 
Joseph  Payne,  F.C.P.,  Author  of  "  Lectures  on  the  Science  and 
Art  of  Education,"  etc.     Crown  Svo..    2s.  6d. 

FIRST  BOOK  OF  BOTANY.  Designed  to  cultivate  the  Observ- 
ing Powers  of  Children.  With  300  Engravings.  New  and 
Enlarged  Edition.     Crown  Svo.     5s. 

Youmans  (Edward  L.),  M.D. 

A  CLASS  BOOK  OF  CHEMISTRY,  on  the  Basis  of  the  new 

System.     With  200  Illustrations. 

Zimmern  (Helen). 

STORIES  IN  PRECIOUS  STONES.  With  Six  Illustrations. 
Third  Edition.     Crown  Svo.     5s. 


48       A  List  of  Henry  S.  King  &  Cb.'s  Publications. 


FORTHCOMING    WORKS 


SIR  THOMAS  MUNRO,  BART.,  K.C.B.,  sometime  Governor  of  Madras. 
A  Selection  from  his  Minutes  and  other  Official  Writings.  Edited 
by  Sir  Alexander  Arbuthnot,  K.C.S.I. 

ALDYTH.   A  Novel.    By  the  Author  of  "  Healey."   3  vols.  Crown  8vo. 

IDA  CRAVEN.    A  Novel.    By  Mrs.  M.  H.  Cadell.   3  vols.    Crown  8vo. 

SCIENTIFIC  INTRODUCTION  TO  GREEK  AND  LATIN.  By  Fer- 
dinand Baur,  Ph  D.,  Professor  at  Maulbronne.  Translated  and 
adapted  by  C.  Kegan  Paul,  M.A.,  and  E.  B.  Stone,  M.A.,  late 
Fellow  of  King's  College,  Cambridge,  and  Assistant-Master  at 
Eton  College. 

TOO  LONG  UNTOLD,  and  other  Stories.  By  Katherine  Saunders. 
2  vols.     Crown  8vo. 

Contents  : — Too  Long  Untold — The  Harpers  of  Men-y-don — 
Ida's  Story — Little  Missy— The  Shaken  Nest. 


Caxton  Printing  Works,  heccles. 


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