Glimpses into the Abyss Part 9

[75] "We believe that the best and simplest method of securing the desired end (incentive to work) would be to allow the colonists to earn by industry and good conduct small sums of money, a portion of which would be retained till discharged and a portion handed over to them weekly to spend, if they like, at the canteen of the colony." Vagrancy Report, section 260.

[76] See enormous cost of casual wards, Vagrancy Report, Chap. IX.

Paddington cost 195, Poplar 219, and Hackney 346 _per head_. The _average_ cost in the country is 60 and in London 150 per head. See also "The Extravagance of the Poor Law," _Contemporary Review_, June, 1906.

[77] The proposed reforms go much further in the right direction. It is to be hoped they will not be minimised in pa.s.sing into law.

[78] See sections 403-409, Vagrancy Report. The Committee regard the question of "female vagrants" as "comparatively unimportant." But it is not sufficiently considered that the disparity in numbers of men and women vagrants (887 females to 8,693 males on January 1st, 1905), and the smaller numbers of women found "sleeping out," are due to the existence of a possible method of livelihood for women by prost.i.tution, absent in the case of men, but exceedingly harmful to the State. The temptation to prost.i.tution through dest.i.tution should be as far as possible removed. (See Chap. V.)

[79] See recommendations 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 16, Appendix II.

[80] The one objection to the Report is the delay consequent on the necessity for legislation. It is a pity that there is not a recommendation to proceed at once by Local Government Board Order in the direction of the finding of the Committee. Legislation may be postponed till after the Poor Law Commission.

[81] The author has more fully developed the psychical principles involved in right cla.s.sification of the undeveloped in an article published in the _Contemporary Review_, June, 1906.

CHAPTER II.

FIVE DAYS AND FIVE NIGHTS AS A TRAMP AMONG TRAMPS.[82]

I. A NIGHT IN A MUNIc.i.p.aL LODGING-HOUSE.

Having gradually been brought to the conviction, by investigation of numerous cases of dest.i.tution among women, that there were circ.u.mstances in our social arrangements which fostered immorality, I resolved to make a first-hand exploration, by that method of personal experiment, which is the nearest road to accurate knowledge, of the conditions under which dest.i.tute women were placed who sought the shelter of the common lodging-house or the workhouse.

It was necessary to find a friend willing to share the possible perils of such an experiment, and to arrange in such a way that it should be unknown to all but a few. I was fortunate in finding a fellow-worker willing to go with me, and as to the truth of the following story she is a sufficient witness.

We dressed very shabbily, but were respectable and clean. We wore shawls and carried hats, which we used if desirable, according to whether we had suns.h.i.+ne or rain, or wished to look more or less respectable. We carried soap, a towel, a change of stockings, and a few other small articles, wrapped in an old shawl. My boots were in holes, and my companion wore a grey tweed well-worn skirt. My hat was a certificate for any tramp ward, and my shawl ragged, though clean. We had one umbrella between us.

Our plan of campaign was to take train to a town some way from home, arriving in the evening, and then to seek lodging. We had five nights to spend, and were expected at a town some way off by friends who thought we were on a "walking tour"! We cut ourselves off from civilisation on Monday with 2_s_. 6_d_. in our pockets and a considerable distance between us and home. We were expected on Sat.u.r.day by our friends. We thought that we should be able to sample only two workhouses after the first night, expecting to be detained two nights at each.

Escaping observation by going to a country railway station, we took train to a town about fifteen miles from home. We enquired of the police and others, and found that there was a large munic.i.p.al lodging-house, so we bought a loaf and a quarter of a pound of b.u.t.ter, and applied for beds. We were just in time to get a double bed in the married couples'

quarters, for which we paid sixpence. We were shown by a servant--a young woman, about twenty-three apparently--into a large, lofty kitchen, furnished with wooden tables and benches. There was a splendid kitchen range, and all was clean and tidy; hot and cold water were laid on to a sink, and boiling water for making tea could be drawn from a tap. Pots and pans, and _basins_ to drink out of, were kept in a handy cupboard. One roller towel, however, was all the convenience for personal was.h.i.+ng or for wiping pots. There was a dish-cloth, and we preferred to wash our pots and put them away to dry rather than to wipe them on the towel used by our fellow-lodgers.

Our first difficulty was as follows: We had bread and b.u.t.ter; we had, also, in our bundle, some tea and sugar, the latter mixed with plasmon, as we feared we might not keep our strength up till the week-end without some such help. But we had neither spoon, knife, nor fork, so we could not spread our b.u.t.ter nor stir our tea. A woman, with a girl of twelve, whose language left much to be desired, told us we could have the three necessary articles, and also a locker in which to keep our food, by depositing one s.h.i.+lling. We accordingly did this, but were not given a locker, as we were only staying one night. We had to put our provisions in the corner of a cupboard used by others, but they were not touched.

Provided with the necessary implements, we proceeded to make tea, and to cut our bread and b.u.t.ter receiving friendly hints from people who saw we were novices, and studying our companions. We drank out of basins.

Besides the loud-voiced woman and child of twelve, there was a man and his wife, and a very nagging woman, whose husband received a great deal of abuse. The inmates appeared to know each other somewhat, and talked about others who had lived there.

We made enquiries for the closet, and found that the key hung by the fireside, and gave admission to a single water-closet, very small, in a yard through which everyone pa.s.sed to the kitchen. This appeared to do duty for the single women also, as they used the same kitchen and sitting-room as the married couples. There was a good flush of water caused by a movable seat. There was no lavatory or any convenience for was.h.i.+ng except the sink in the kitchen used by all the lodgers, men and women alike, but there was a notice up that "slipper baths" could be had for twopence. This absence of any opportunity for personal cleanliness, apart from extra payment, must lead to uncleanliness of person where people are all living on the edge of poverty; it is, too, most desirable that women should be able to wash apart from men.

After tea we found our way upstairs to a sitting-room, also furnished with wooden tables and benches and fairly clean. Beyond it was a bedroom for single females, separated by wooden part.i.tions into cubicles. The servant was in attendance, and was the only official we saw during our stay, except when we purchased our bed at the office, and obtained and returned our knife, fork and spoon. Being very tired, we asked for our bed, and were shown a boarded-off cubicle, the door of which we could bolt. It was lighted by a large window, and in the dim light looked fairly clean, but the floor was dirty. The top sheet of the bed was clean, the bottom one dirty, and the pillows filthy. We spread a clean dress skirt over them and resigned ourselves. The bed was flock, and was hot and uncomfortable; it smelt stale. We opened the window. There was no furniture besides the bed; we hung our clothes on nails in the part.i.tion. I killed a bug on the wall close to my head.

Compared, however, with our further experiences, this lodging-house was fairly comfortable--indeed, one of our fellow-lodgers, who apparently was a respectable working-man, said it was "a palace" compared to others!

We had a restless night, disturbed first by the coming to bed of several married couples in adjacent cubicles. We could hear all the conversations, and the nagging woman kept telling her husband, in a tone of voice much louder than his own, to "Shut up!" Then sleep was difficult in such strange surroundings: outside, trams went past till after midnight; inside, many of our companions were audible by snores.

We got some uneasy sleep, but were awakened very early as some of the men were called about five o'clock. Towards six o'clock we got up ourselves, with a longing for fresh air. We dressed, but could find nowhere to wash but the sink in the kitchen, with all our clothes on, as a man was already in possession, and was was.h.i.+ng up his pots when we came down. We reflected that with only this poor lavatory accommodation, however clean our fellow-lodgers looked, they _could_ not be personally otherwise than dirty, if they stayed on here; unless, which is very unlikely, they kept on spending twopence for "slipper baths"!

We got our breakfast in the same manner as tea, and were prepared to go, but had to wait an hour before we could get our one s.h.i.+lling deposit returned, the office not being open till eight o'clock. We sat in the sitting-room, watching and talking to our fellow-lodgers. Their talk was very free and often profane. Several women and the little girl were sitting round a table, crocheting the articles which are hawked from door to door. Men were reading papers. One by one the single women lodgers came out of the inside room and went downstairs to wash and get breakfast. The servant was sweeping the room. Her language was not altogether clean; she smoked a pipe and mentioned a drink. It did not seem altogether desirable that a young woman should practically be left in charge. Her presence could be no guarantee for conduct or language, and she might easily herself be tempted into immorality by men lodgers.

Her language showed that she was not much above the rest of the inmates.

The conversation turned first to the accommodation. We learned that we had been fortunate in our cubicle, as some were infested with bugs. One woman described how they harboured in the crevices between the woodwork of the cubicles, which were not close fitting, and how she cleared them out with a hatpin and exterminated them. The relative merits of various cubicles in relation to the absence or presence of these insect pests were discussed at length. The conversation naturally turned on the accommodation at various lodging-houses, and we heard of horrors that explained why this was called "a palace," and was so much appreciated, that we were reckoned lucky to obtain a bed after seven o'clock at night. We were told of a place where eight married couples slept in one room, with _one bucket_ for all purposes. As the time went on the conversation turned to visitors, and we learned that people came once a week to sing and speak, and were much appreciated. "It was only what they ought to do." We tried to get a little more information on this subject, but the talk veered round to the Moat Farm murder. The execution was due just at eight o'clock, and all eyes followed the clock, and surmises as to the murderer's feelings were coupled with references to the crime, with which all present seemed to be familiar.

We were glad when eight o'clock put an end to this topic and our sojourn, as we could obtain our deposit and depart.

II. A NIGHT IN A COMMON LODGING-HOUSE.

The morning was fairly fine, though grey, and we inquired our way to a town on our route, about nine miles distant. We left the road for the ca.n.a.l side, and sat down in the fields to rest a little, and then walked on. We pa.s.sed some men who were working in a barge; they shouted to us, and invited us to come to them. We walked away and took no notice, but repeatedly on our journey we were spoken to, and I could not help contrasting the way in which men looked at us with the usual bearing of a man towards a _well-dressed_ female. I had never realised before that a lady's dress, or even that of a respectable working-woman, was a _protection_. The bold, free look of a man at a dest.i.tute woman must be felt to be realised. Being together, we were a guard to one another, so we took no notice but walked on. I should not care to be a _solitary_ woman tramping the roads. A dest.i.tute woman once told me that if you tramped, "you had to take up with a fellow." I can well believe it.

About mid-day we dined on our loaf and b.u.t.ter, as well as we could without a knife. A woman, also tramping, came to sit by us; she was going to seek her husband, she said, in the town to which we were also going. She was accustomed to tramp, as he went to different towns in search of work, and she was anxious to push on to get there early. As she seemed to know the neighbourhood, we asked her about lodgings. We had determined to sample a common lodging-house, as we were not yet sufficiently dest.i.tute to claim the workhouse. She told us of two lodging-houses where single women were taken, but one was "very rough, and the beds so crowded that heads almost touched heels." She recommended the other one "on t'hill" as a respectable lodging-house, suggesting that we could get a married couple's furnished room for sixpence a night. We decided, therefore, to make for this _respectable_ lodging-house.

Towards one o'clock, after we resumed our route, it began to rain hard.

We found a path off the main road that led into a wood, and managed to rest and shelter under the trees till the rain began to drop heavily upon us. We then began to walk again, and found that outside the rain had moderated. We were rather stiff and cold, so as soon as we came to the houses we looked out for somewhere to get a cup of tea, and were fortunate enough to find a coffee-shop, where we got a mug of hot tea each for one penny, and ate some more of our loaf. We still had a good walk, through outlying streets, before we reached the town, and by dint of many enquiries we found the lodging-house. We first asked a postman (after sending a post-card home, which we wrote at the post-office). We gathered from his looks that, if respectable, our chosen lodging-house was nothing very special; but it was "Hobson's choice" apparently, for a man in charge of another lodging-house, where we made enquiries, said it was the _only_ place where they took single women, the "rough" place having given up taking them. So we found ourselves, between six and seven o'clock, at the door of the house, which was not bad-looking outside--an old-fas.h.i.+oned, roomy-looking, stone house, which might once have been a farmhouse and seen better days. The landlady, a stout, pleasant-faced woman, received us cheerfully. She told us that the "furnished apartments" were not in order, but we could have a boarded-off apartment and sleep together for eightpence the night. The bed would be clean. This sounded just as good as we could expect, so we paid her eightpence and turned in. I shall never forget this interior.

Fortunately it was getting dark, and not till morning did we fully realise the state of the place. We found ourselves in a double room, consisting, probably, of a kitchen and front room thrown into one, each possessing a kitchen firegrate, and the back room a tiny sink. Round the wall was a wooden seat, and wooden tables and benches completed the furniture, except that the corner was occupied by a large cupboard.

Numerous articles of apparel were hanging from lines; saucepans, tea-pots, etc., were to be found on the kitchen mantelpiece and over the sink (all more or less dirty), and mugs, to be had for the asking. Two perambulators partly stopped the large opening between the two rooms; one belonged to a mother with children, the other to a blind man and his wife, and contained their musical outfit and belongings. Two doors led into this double apartment; one gave access to the entrance pa.s.sage and the landlady's rooms, the other to a small yard. In this was the only sanitary convenience for at least forty people, the key of which hung by the fireside--one small water-closet, _perfectly dry_. The stench in it was enough to knock you down; one visit was enough to sicken you. Yet some of the lodgers had been there _six weeks_. This and the small sink by the fireside were the only provision we could discover for sanitary purposes of all kinds.

Yet it was not the place itself, but its inhabitants, that are quite unforgettable. We sat down on the wooden bench behind a table, and immediately facing us was a huge negro with a _wicked_ face. By his side a quiet-looking woman, who had a little girl and boy, was sitting crocheting. An old woman, active and weather-beaten, was getting supper ready for her husband, a blind beggar, who shortly afterwards came in led by a black dog. A woman tramp was getting supper ready for the negro; she wore a wedding ring, but I question if she was his wife.

Several young children, almost babies, were running about, or playing with the perambulator. A young man on the seat near us was tossing about a fat baby born "on the road," whose healthiness we duly admired. It was not his own, but belonged to a worried-looking woman, who also had a troublesome boy. The next room was full of people, whom we could hear but not see distinctly. The little boy of two caused much conversation, as he was always doing something he should not, and caused disgust by his uncleanliness, freely commented on. His mother made raids on him at intervals, but neither cleanliness nor discipline was possible in such surroundings. The most striking character, next to the negro, was a girl, apparently about twenty. She wore a wedding ring, and belonged to some man in the company, but from the character of her conversation I doubt if she was married. The negro told some story, and she capped it with another; evidently she was noted for her conversation, as she was laughingly offered a pint to keep her tongue still! Her face would have been handsome, but for a crooked nose and evident dissipation. All the stories were more or less foul, and all the conversation, on every side, was filthy or profane. The negro told how he had outwitted a harlot who tried to rob him. The whole story of his visit to her house was related in the most shameless way, with circ.u.mstantial details, no one appearing to think anything of it. He told how he discovered where she kept her money--in a flower-pot--and hid _his_ money there, shammed sleep, and watched her surprise when she found nothing in his pockets, coolly took all her money in the morning, driving off in a hansom after a good breakfast. He _said_ he bought new clothes, and danced with her the same night, being taken for a "toff," and hearing the story of her wrongs, but refusing her blandishments! The girl told, sitting on the table near the negro, how she had got her nose broken by an admirer and made him pay for it. A conversation sprang up about the treatment of wives, and it was stated that a woman loved a man best _if he ill-treated her_.

This theory was ill.u.s.trated by examples well known to the company. The girl related that she had lived in the same house with a man who used to beat his wife. If he came home singing a certain song his wife knew she was in for it. She used to try to hide, but one day he caught her and beat her severely with a red-hot poker. The police got him, but _she refused to bear witness against him_. Similar instances were given both by men and women. Such sentiments augured no very good treatment for wives of this cla.s.s--in fact, the position of a mistress seemed preferable. All the conversation was unspeakably foul, and was delivered with a kind of cross-shouting, each struggling to make his or her observations heard. A man read--or tried to read--amid frequent interruptions, replied to by oaths, the story of the execution of the Moat Farm murderer that morning, and other interesting police news, freely commented on. Little children were running about all the while, and older ones listening. As time went on more and more came in, including the landlady and her children, and a married daughter with a baby. It could not be possible for a woman to exercise any effective control under such circ.u.mstances, as it would be her interest to keep on good terms with her lodgers. The strongest man might be needed as a "chucker-out" if there was a row. All present that night were "down in their luck." A gala day at the park near by had been very unsuccessful owing to the wet, and there was but little drink going; otherwise we might have seen and heard still worse. One could imagine how swiftly a brawl would arise. A rascally-looking "cadger" came in from his rounds, and proved to be the father of the troublesome boy and husband of the worried mother. He and a companion had been doing a regular beggar's round, but had missed each other. His luck was so bad that his wife had to borrow his supper. All the company except a few appeared to be of that sort that preys upon society. The black man had been on board s.h.i.+p; he was powerfully made, and looked cruel and l.u.s.tful. I avoided his eye, he kept staring at us. His mistress was, however, kind to us; she brought us a mug of their tea, which we drank for courtesy with considerable difficulty, eating some of our food with it. I suppose the company thought us very poor, for almost everyone had something tasty for supper, and the smell of fried bacon, onions, potatoes, and beefsteak, the steam of cooking and drying clothes, mixed with tobacco smoke and the stench of unclean humanity, grew more and more unbearable as the doors were shut and all gathered in for the night. The continual shouting made one's head ache, and no one seemed to think of putting a child to bed. At last, about nine o'clock, we decided that upstairs would be preferable. I may say that no one interfered with us or questioned us, except one old woman, who was satisfied when we told her that we had spent the last night in a Model, and were going on tramp to a neighbouring town. She saw we were new to "the road," and descanted on the _healthiness_ of the life, pointing to the baby in proof of it, and a.s.suring us we should "soon get accustomed to it." She told us this was a very decent lodging-house, and that there were "nice, clean beds." We hoped so, and asked the landlady to show us upstairs. After we left the fun waxed still more fast and furious. Just before we went upstairs a man in the inner room propounded the question, "Who was Adam's father?"

The conversation on the subject seemed to cause great amus.e.m.e.nt.

Afterwards they began to sing, not untunefully, various songs; amongst others several hymns. I wished almost that we had stayed below to ascertain what led to the singing of "Jesu, Lover of my soul." It sounded odd, sung l.u.s.tily by lips so full of profanity; yet I could not but thank G.o.d that there was _One_ who loved sinners, and lived among them.

Upstairs we found rooms full of beds, but we were to have a "cubicle."

Apparently it was the only one, and it was very imperfectly part.i.tioned off. The door fastened with a wooden b.u.t.ton, but by the head of the bed was an entrance, _without_ a door, to a compartment which held a bed occupied by a man, this again being accessible by an entrance without a door to the rest of the room. Anyone could therefore enter if so disposed. Three beds, occupied by married couples and their children (who shared the same bed), filled the room, and beyond was another apartment crowded with beds, and, so far as we could see, without part.i.tions. The landlady told us not to mind the _man_ who slept in the next bed, for he was blind! He slept there, and so did his dog. The other occupants of the room, who came to bed later, we could not see, but we could hear them plainly. From the conversation we think the n.i.g.g.e.r and his mistress slept just outside, and next to them (no part.i.tion) a married couple with a baby and a child. A third couple would be round the corner. The room barely held the beds and part.i.tion, with room to stand by the side; there was no ventilation but a chimney close to our bed. We could hear someone continually scratching himself, and the baby sucking frequently, and other sounds which shall be nameless.

When we first went to bed, however, we were in peace, except for the noise from below. We found our sheets were clean, and fortunately could see no more by the light of the candle, without candle-stick, which our landlady gave us. For two hours the noise went on downstairs; comic songs and Sankey's hymns alternately came floating up the stair. Then, at about eleven o'clock, suddenly everyone came to bed with a _rush_. It almost seemed as if they were coming _on top_ of us, so great was the noise, and all was so near. The blind man stumbled in so close, and half-a-dozen people, all talking, got to bed close by. My companion woke frightened and clutched me. A candle flickering in the next compartment revealed a huge bug walking on the ceiling, which suddenly _dropped_ over a neighbouring bed! By degrees, however, the noises subsided, and my companion and I fell into an uneasy slumber. I woke in an hour or two, in dim daylight, to feel _crawlers_. The rest of the night was spent in hunting. I had quite a collection by the time my companion woke. They were on the bed and on the part.i.tion. I watched them making for our clothes; but there was no escape till morning was fully come.

Besides, my companion was resting through it all; so I slew each one as it appeared. We found that the clean sheets concealed a _filthy_ bed and pillows.

About five o'clock two working men were roused by their wives'

admonitions, and got up to go to work. We rose at six o'clock, leaving our neighbours still slumbering. We searched ourselves as well as we could (with a sleeping man next door, audible if not visible). We could see him if we stepped forward a pace.

We thankfully bundled up our things, including food, which we had brought upstairs to be safe, and we crept downstairs, hoping for cleanliness. The kitchen fire was lit--apparently it had never been out--and a kettle was on the bar; a working man was getting his breakfast ready; a girl, the landlady's daughter, apparently about 12, was sweeping the floor. We could now _see_ the filth. The floor was strewn with dirty paper, crumbs, and _debris_, and dirty sand. All the cleaning it got was that it was swept and then freshly sanded by this small child. It then _looked_ tidy. "Appearances" are proverbially "deceitful." But what we were not prepared for was, that all the wooden benches were occupied by _sleeping men_. The small child sweeping was at first quite alone with them. There was no place to wash but the small fireside sink: one man considerately cleared out from its neighbourhood, and I thought we were alone in that half of the room till I looked and saw a slumbering man on either side. They moved, as if uneasy on their hard couches. Of course, it was utterly impossible to attempt cleanliness, except hands and face. Yet our fellow-lodgers had some of them lived there for weeks, and it was reckoned by their cla.s.s a _superior_ lodging-house. I can hardly describe the feeling of personal contamination caused by even one night in such surroundings. Yet we escaped well, finding afterwards only two live creatures on our clothes.

Cleanliness of person would be so _impossible_ under such circ.u.mstances that it would soon cease to be _aimed_ at. Yet most of the inmates had fairly clean hands and faces, and the tiny sink was used for was.h.i.+ng clothes, which were dried in the room, and were hanging overnight from lines. Is it any wonder that such places are hot-beds of disease? How can one of this cla.s.s possibly avoid spreading contagion under such bad sanitary conditions? It struck me that public money would be well spent in providing lodging-house accommodation under good sanitation and management, rather than in extending small-pox hospitals.

We did not feel inclined for breakfast, but the kettle was boiling, and a working-man showed us where to find things. We carefully washed the dirty-looking tea-pot and mugs, and borrowed a knife and spoon: no one insulted or questioned us. If our stay had been longer, however, doubtless we should have been obliged to get on friendly terms with our fellow-lodgers. We ate our food at the table farthest from the sleeping men, the sweeping still going on, and then we bundled up our things and left without seeing our landlady again.

The fresh air was sweet. Nowhere inside _could_ be clean. Vermin might harbour in the wooden seating, doubly used by day and night: the imperfectly washed clothes, the _un_washed humanity, the crowding, the absence of proper sanitation, would break down personal cleanliness in a very short time if a respectable woman was forced to sleep in such a place. Yet two s.h.i.+llings and fourpence a week, at fourpence a night, should surely finance some better provision for the needs of a migatory cla.s.s. It must be considered that social conditions have entirely altered since the days of railway travelling have loosened social ties to particular neighbourhoods. Work is a fluctuating quant.i.ty, and men and women have to travel.

My own experience had taught me that single women frequently get shaken out of a home by bereavements or other causes, and drift, unable to recover a stable position if once their clothing becomes dirty or shabby. The question, To what circ.u.mstances and surroundings will a respectable dest.i.tute woman drift if without employment? is one which concerns society deeply, as immorality must be fostered by wrong conditions.

III. A FIRST NIGHT IN THE WORKHOUSE TRAMP WARD.

We were glad that the next ordeal before us would be the workhouse bath!

For we were now really "dest.i.tute"; after purchasing a little more food we had only twopence left. We were so jaded by the imperfect sleep of the two last nights that we decided not to leave the town, but to wait about all day, and enter the workhouse at six o'clock. We had noticed a reading room and a park: to the latter we found our way. The day was gloomy and damp, but not actually wet, except for a slight drizzle at intervals. In the park we found shelter, drinking water, and sanitary convenience. We disturbed a sleeping man in a summer-house, and quickly left him. We wandered into every nook in the park, and talked, rested, or slept. The hours went very slowly, but we grew refreshed. Towards mid-day we made a frugal meal on our remaining provisions, drinking from a fountain. We still had a little sugar-plasmon left and a pinch of tea.

In the afternoon, growing cold and stiff, we went to the free library, and stayed there reading an hour or two. Two or three ladies were there reading, but they took no notice of us beyond a stare; we had put our shawls over our heads, and might be taken for mill-hands. As soon as we thought it was time we set off to find the workhouse. It was about two miles, as near as we can guess, from the centre of the town, and on the way to it we made the acquaintance of an old woman who was going there.

She was lame in one leg with rheumatism, and walked slowly, and she also stopped to beg at houses _en route_. She got a cup of tea and a gla.s.s of hot milk between the town and the workhouse. She was walking from P---- to H---- to find her brother, having been in the workhouse infirmary for many months. She said she had received a letter from her brother, offering her a home if she would come to him. She lost his address and could not write, so she had no resource but to walk from workhouse to workhouse till she reached her destination. She was very tired, and groaned with pain during the night, and almost lost heart and turned back, but in the morning she plucked up courage to go on. She had the advantage of being too infirm to be made to work hard, and she evidently knew how to beg food. She seemed a decent woman, and had reared a large family of children, who were all married, and had "enough to do for themselves." Her brother, she said, was in comfortable circ.u.mstances, and she would be all right if she found him. Her clothing was well mended, but not clean.

We arrived, alone, a few minutes before six, at the workhouse lodge, which stood all by itself down a long lane which ended in iron gates.