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PREFACE.
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 02839 0329
A foreign people cannot be understood in a short,
and generally hurried visit; nor, indeed, can they be
appreciated by the oldest foreign resident, unless he
will consent to waive all prejudice and live among
them as one of themselves. Perhaps, I will not be
envied for the experience I have gained. It has
been dearly bought,-enforced by protracted illness,
and involving banishment from my family and friends,
the privileges of society, and even the common
comforts of life. I went to England unprejudiced
against the people, and lived among them, chiefly in
London
I had no "secret histories" from which to copy,
but derived my facts from my own observations. I
am indebted to my learned friend, Mr. John Fullard
of Birmingham, with whom I lived, moved and
travelled in different places of Great Britain and
Ireland. I am also indebted for some historical
matter to Mr. Edward Leach's "Sketches of Christian
Work Among The Lowly"; and also to Green-
wood's interesting book entitled "The Seven Curses
of London" which was very ably reviewed by Mr.
Spurgeon.
The readers will find in it very interesting and
instructive information, striking incident, scenes of
thrilling excitement, of touching tenderness, of in-
tensely rude and blunted sympathies and of dark
ii
crime-not concocted in the brain of the novelist, but
enacted in the real life of the great English nation
such as the Indian mind never conceives.
The book has an interest of its own as showing how
English social and moral life strike a foreigner; or
rather as showing what are the standards by which
foreign writers of the present day should measure
Englishmen and Englishwomen. Therefore this book
will help a foreigner to learn a great deal more abouț
English social and moral life, as in it the inner life of
the great English nation is laid bare.
The descriptions are weighty; and the readers will
find in it how the demon of drink, with almost undis-
puted sway, rules the masses, and devours them at his
will.
}
LONDON,
10th May, 1885.
N. L. G.
Chapter.
I. London
CONTENTS.
II.
Seamen In The Docks
III.
Homeless And Destitute
IV. Hours With No Name
...
V.
The Young Men of London
VI. Young Men And Evangelistic Work In London
VII. The Costermongers Of London
VIII. The Gipsies Of London
IX. Chimney Sweepers
X. Day Cabinen
XI. Night Cabmen...
XII. Among The Thieves And Tramps Of St. Giles
XIII. Among The Thieves And Tramps Of St. Giles
(concluded)
...
..
...
···
...
...
...
..
••
1.
XIV. Poor Sarahı
Westminster
XV.
XVI. The Public Houses
XVII. The Seven Evils Of London
XVIII. The Dustwomen
XIX. Preaching In A Low Lodging-House
XX. Among The Spitafields' Lodging Houses
XXI. Stray Thoughts
XXII. English Society And English Character
...
..
···
...
...
:
...
...
••
:
:
...
...
RO
ANA
...
Page.
1
وان
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34
44
50
56
74
84
92
101
111
120
130
138
147
158
170
174
181
186
190
ERRATA.
Page 18, line 22, read "hay-loft" instead of "hay-
left."
Page 163, the word "are" is dropped after English-
men, read "The Englishmen are unmistakably."
<di
Page 187, the word "liquor" is dropped, read "any
kind of liquor."
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
1
CHAPTER I.
LONDON.
ΟΝ
N the 28th of March, 1883, we entered Dover's giant cliffs,
and left Calais harbour without a thought of the chops of
the channel, or any other of the disagreeables of life. It is a dull
journey from Dover to London, just a dreary drag over a huge
flat; monotonous as the clergyman's tones at Droneton-in-the-
Marsh, and two-thirds as dull as his of repeated sermons; but
London itself is a full reward for all the tedium of the way.
London is the metropolis of the United Kingdom of Great Britain
and Ireland. As a commercial and trading city London is com-
plete; it has extensive and well-built manufactories, shops, ware-
houses, and mercantile firms; and within its limit it contains an
immense wealth which all Europe besides could not excel. As an
educational city, London, like Paris, is also complete; it has large
and well-arranged libraries, colleges and museums of every lan-
guage, science and art; here the thoughtful observer may study in
different colleges and museums, zoology, anatomy, comparative
anatomy, Darwin's apedom, diseased pathology, conchology, en-
tomology, geology, botany, hydrostatics, astronomy, electricity, me-
chanics, and indeed every branch of knowledge; and his studies
may be diversified with wanderings among miles of advertisements
and acres of heavy sign-boards. The vain may very easily find
in London a feast for their vanity, but the intelligent may be
equally content with the feast of knowledge which its splendid
colleges and museums afford them. London owes very much to
the great fire which consumed its old inflammable houses, and raised
a new city of palaces. The event proved to be a sanitary blessing,
although it was not appreciated as such. Indeed, religious men
vehemently asserted that the devastation occurred as a judgment
2
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
against the crying sins of the age, and was more especially aimed at
the gluttony of Londoners, since the fire began at Pudding Lane, and
ended at Pie Corner; but it was forgotten that nature awards another
kind of punishment to gluttonous appetites which indulge too
freely in puddings and pies. Two hundred years ago, London was
the most dirty city in Europe. From the time of George the
First to the present day the extension of London was carried
on at such a marvellous rate, and is still continued with greater
zest than ever, so that the metropolis has assumed a character
which makes it the greatest marvel of the age. From malarious
swamps and den of fever, it has become the most populous, com-
mercial, wealthy, and largest city in the world. No doubt, from
a marvel of foulness it has become the most wonderful city,
although it makes one shudder to know that the city abounds
with infamy and loathsome vices. Alas! that a Christian city of
high civilization and culture should be so clouded with abounding
sin. London, the centre of English enterprise and spirit, the seat
of English commerce and wealth, the home of English literature and
science, the nursery of English intelligence and civilization, has swol-
len like dropsy to an enormous degree, swollen by the mixture of
prosperity and poverty, virtue and vice, good and evil, right and
wrong. It is the haunt of the harlot and the thief. Poverty, with
all its variety of filth, hid itself here, that is, poverty shows itself
in a horror of every method of commanding public attention. The
-broken-down and distressed workman, the worn-out, dissipated shoe-
maker, the intoxicated, rude sailor, and the halt and maimed and
blind, who begged in the streets for a living, inhabited its long,
narrow, dirty lanes. The victims of whiskey and gin here found an
appropriate refuge. The Irish, who huddle together without any
sense of decency or domestic comfort, swarmed the ill-ventilated
houses. In the summer, numbers died of fever generated by ill-
ventilated rooms, and badly-drained closes! In the winter, the old
and tottering were taken off by cold and hunger. London, with its
streams of busy life, like mighty rivers, is a seething bog. The poor
folks here are like rotten wood, they winna haud the nail! On the
surface London looks like bright gold, but its inner part is rotten
like putrid corpse. Those lines of first-class residences, those long
terraces of respectable houses, those miles of pretty villas, those
-
A
LONDON.
3
leagues of busy shops-one rides along them by the hour, and feels
that London is great, flourishing, wealthy, orderly; ay, but turn out
of that broad thoroughfare, stop at Paradise Court or Rosemary
Alley, take your walks abroad where many poor you see, note the
ragged children, the filthy Irishwomen, the harlots, the drunkards,
the swarms of villainous-looking big boys; and now, as you return,
sick from the reek of gin and the mustiness of rags, you learn that
London is poor, wretched, lawless, horrible. It is well to have the
rose-water removed, and the rose-colour washed off awhile.
The city of London is full of remarkable impressions. Up in the
garret of a large high house, were three persons seated on the floor,
with a broken bottle and a couple of broken tea-cups. The old
man and his wife were in a deplorable condition. Another man
in the room was dressed in good black, with "thin silky grey hair
falling over a forehead that bore the marks of some culture. This
man had been a respectable tradesman, but drink had been his ruin.
"Well, John, how are you getting on?" asked Mr. Parker's cicerone.
"Just gone to the devil again. Master Wright," replied the wizened-
face old fellow, as he dropped the cup with its contents from his
hand. The wife put herself in a fighting attitude, and dealt out
some imaginary blows which were intended to punish the old man
for his naughty language, but the rebuke had no effect. The place
of a sinner like him, she said, was to sit silent and listen. The old
man did not acquiesce, but ordered her to be quiet, which she did
with her tongue, but not with her arms and hands, which were still
vapoured over the head of John. In another garret, an old woman,
who resembled a bundle of rags, was lying crouched in the corner.
On the window-sill was a well-thumbed copy of Horace, which was
the mental food of the old woman's son, who supported her as best
he could on a few shillings a week. An old Irishwoman, whose
nose and chin nearly met, and whose "long elfin locks, half black
and half grey, gave her a weird appearance," had been found
in love with a shoemaker in her old age. This is the universal
experience of strange London. There was John Duncan, the bill-
sticker, leading gently to grog-shop on Sabbath and week night,
his pale, patient, blind Mary, the wife who, even then, washed
and baked for him. There, too, was Alexander Thorburn, standing
daily at the auction-room door, or at the photographer's with
4
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
necklace of pictures; and his wife, too, that needed all her clear
vision, to keep him straight. There, too, was John Bonar, sideling
with slow pace into the church, but always there with fresh guilt
Bible, at which he looked from an angle impossible to any other
eye. No doubt, London is a unique city, comprising representa-
tives of all classes of her Majesty's Christian subjects. The
wealthy lords, the proud barons, the covetous bankers, the thrifty
merchants, the unhappy workmen, the wretched sailors, the worth-
less beggars, the half-naked drunkards, are to be found in every street
and lane.
With all the sin of London it has a Sabbath; and the houses of
prayer, though not so well attended as they should be, do neverthe
less receive within their doors an exceeding great army. When
the church was crowded, some of the visitors would peep into the
vestry before service, and say, "We have swept the closes elean
to-night." There they sat, many of them in rags, some of them
unwashed, some brought in from their firesides as they sat after
their Saturday night's dissipation. Many had never in their life.
been within a church door, many had not been for ten and twenty
years. And there they sat, as the minister stood up to preach},
looking into his eyes with eager search, as if for light, waiting to
know if he really has any good news for them. They seemed to say,
"We have come for once in our life, at any rate, within your reach,
and we shall listen to-night till you're done. Say your best. Do your
utmost. We are dead, hopeless creatures. We know we're lost; you
need not tell us that. We believe in hell; we have been there. But is
there salvation for us?" With such feelings as those, a man cannot
preach anything but Christ. Conversions became numerous. A com-
munion class was formed. "I want to be admitted," observed a man,
"dressed in blue pilot cloth, with a great shaggy head and a rough wea
ther-beaten face, one eye hopelessly disfigured, as if by some terrible
blow." "What makes you press forward to-night ?" he was asked. The
reply was, "Seeing so many press into the kingdom, and I'm likely
to be left oot." Strange ways had some of these characters of
expressing the great change which the religion of Christ had
wrought for them. "I'm a changeful man," said a noted drunken
man, “the guid used to be drooned by the evil, but noo it's floating
on the top." On one occasion at the Lord's table, a poor old man
LONDON.
5
10
of eighty-one years, admitted there for the first time, took the large
slice of bread handed by the elder, and instead of breaking off the
morsel, ate the whole slice, "I stopped the elder as he was about
gently to speak to him, "says Mr. Parker, and said, "Our Master
would not take it from him." But Mr. Parker forgets that the
Master would have prevented the mistake by breaking the bread
himself, as was his crdained method.
These are the sad pictures of the city of London? It is the city
of corruption, it is the city of Christian religion crowded with the
habitations of cruelty. Its people feed upon provision made for the
flesh, and they are armed from the magazine of unsanctified nature;
the Old Adam is their father, sin is their mother, unbelief their
nurse, and self their captain. For number they are legion, and
they prowl in bands, each band doing its best to make havoc of
every good thing. They break down the temples of morality, they
dig up the wells of vice, they loiter in the streets like packs of
wolves and hungry-looking dogs for their prey. Temptations of all
shapes barbarously ravage the hearts of London. Flauntily-dressed
females, with the sinner's trade stamped heavily upon their other-
wise interesting features, are scattered here and there; coster-
mongers with their necks well bandaged by gaudy silk handkerchiefs
(which are indispensable to the craft); fustianed labourers who
only honour the Sabbath by using soap and water; poorly-clad
ragamuffins and boys of various ages, who wriggle into innumerable
shapes and quietly poke fun at each other until the policeman
manages to arrest their attention.
There are divers things to be observed in modern Babylon. Do
you catch my thought? For fear you have not I will enlarge.
There are depths in London so low, that some of you have no more
idea of them, than you have of the holes of the rats in the great
sewers; and in these depths lie damnable curses, deep and deadly,
withering and soul-destroying. It is mournfully interesting now
and then to walk along the streets of London, and see half-clad,
hunger-bitten relics of humanity, men and women, glide along the
pavement like ghosts, wearing clothing which even the rag-merchant
would not buy; poor, broken-spirited, begrimed, gin-cursed beings,
who have not even spirit enough left to beg, but fit along the street,
looking like owls in the daylight, as if they were out of their haunts,
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
and were uneasy till they were back again. Give them a sixpence,
and they look at you with surprise, and almost with alarm; and
before you can say a word, they vanish as mysteriously as if they
had descended through the pavement. In going along the busy
streets, we frequently notice a crowd gathered round a fallen horse
or a waggon with a broken wheel. It is odd how soon a crowd
gathers when there is an attraction; there may not have been a
dozen people in the street before, but there will be scores if not
hundreds within five minutes if a couple of boys are fighting.
Only stand and stare at a smoking-chimney-pot yourself for a few
minutes, and see if twenty other simpletons will not come and gaze
their eyes out with curiosity to know what you can be looking at:
Might not stoppages in a crowd give us rare chances of reaching
strange people? As you are surrounded by the mob you readily
discover that the rascal on your right greatly admires your watch.
When a cheap-jack has a little knot of people round his van, he
eyes them all, and feels sure that the man who is standing over
there is a butcher, and that yonder young lad has more money than
brains, and that the girl near him is out with her sweet-heart and
is soon to be married.
For the most part, the condition of modern Babylon, morally
and spiritually, is frightfully low. One who has seen it well, has
estimated that only about one-fourth part of it is good. The
dangers of Hell can be pourtrayed with a Pre-Raphaelitish and
naked accuracy; but it is difficult even to a best painter, to paint
the wandering rogues, wanton vagabonds, unrestrained drunkards,
hunger-bitten beggars, and haggard-looking unmarried women. In
the heart of this enlightened city, there lurks an undefined and
unexpressed vice which is a sheer disgrace to Christian England.
But whence does London derive its black face? How is it that
Christian London has become subordinated to gross immorality?
The reply is ready to our hand. Drink is the root of its gigan-
tic crimes. Let no mortal man rashly believe himself capable of
considering this world and all its ongoings with a perfectly free and
unprejudiced mind. We hold that such virtue has died out, and
is lost for ever to civilised society. But imagine for one moment
a human being endowed with the reason and understanding, set
down, for the first time in his life, on the face of this globe--if you
LONDON.
please in the heart of London,-and there left to begin, de novo, to
make what he could of it; and we predict, with unhesitating
confidence, that the first impression produced on his mind would
be that this was assuredly the most outrageous, the most startling,
of all worlds. And if, carefully concealing from your visitor any
apprehension of a superintending and all-wise Deity, you proceeded
to unfold to his perception some of the more complex moral phases
of human life, we believe that he would come inevitably to the
conclusion, that it was not only the strangest, but also the saddest,
and altogether a most hopeless world. And in one aspect-on the
side of human speculation-is it not, on the face of it, even so?
Conceive for one moment of History—and no God? Ťurn over its
pages if you can-and dare-under the influence of that thought;
and as you have within you a human heart, you will turn away in
sheer despair from the perusal of the tragic tale of mortal misery -
"too deep for tears." Light and darkness! These are the elements
of History; not softly blending to form fairy pictures, filled with
images that inspire delight; but joining issue to produce dire eclipse
and “disastrous twilight," fitted rather to confound. A seemingly
illimitable and confused battlefield! A frantic world determined
to go wrong.
"Sad moral phenomena? Where shall we look for
them in the nineteenth century? Perhaps you immediately request
us to direct our attention exclusively to the uttermost ends of the
earth; and we politely decline to do so. Heathendom we dare say
presents a deplorable sight; but what of Christendom? Here are
institutions designed-so we are told-expressly for the advance-
ment of man's immortal weal, and above all, for the benefit of
enlightened and happy Englishmen; and among these-strange to
say—we find their saddest illustrations of gross moral perversion.
He who wishes for a proof of human depravity, drunken revelry
and shameless wantonness, has only to walk through the paved
streets of London and watch several grades of cruelty, dissipation,
drunkenness, poverty, brutality, ignorance, and blackguardism.
London, the city of infamy and vice,
Is a dark den, where fiends and wolves howl,
Before it "Hell trembles throughout,
In all its palaces of fire."
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
CHAPTER II.
SEAMEN IN THE DOCKS.
Looking over London Bridge, the eye is arrested by a forest of
sails, of all descriptions of dirty drab; by vessels of all kinds and
shapes-some of no particular kind at all, and others of no describ
able shape; by ropes old and by ropes new; by boats crazy and
boats that by repainting have had a new lease of life given them;
by cargoes heavy and cargoes light; by colliers black and barges.
blacker; by ruinous, dilapidated wharves, and by a medley of
labourers, and sailors, and watermen, and lightermen, and mates
professional and mates unprofessional-loafers who find that loafing
pays, and others that starve upon it. The sight of industry seems
to provoke idleness. One always sees the idlest vagabonds loung-
ing where they may observe the hardest and most busy work.
Thus the parapets of London Bridge are invariably, from early
morn to dusk, fringed by some of the most depraved and vicious
idlers that could claim commiseration or excite disgust. How they
enjoy the sight of perspiring labour before them! What rude
observations are jerked out occasionally, as if they who were too
lazy to work were most competent to criticise those who could and
did what it would be a pleasure to compel them to do. More
animating and interesting still is the scene at the Docks. One
of our first, and most boyish, literary efforts was a description
of a visit paid to the London Docks. We have a clear recollec-
tion of the dismal, damp wine-vaults through which we travel-
led-one barrel, we remember, contained 4,500 gallons of port;
we walked through one of the immense tobacco-stores, the whole
of which will cover five acres, and our juvenile eyes were
attracted and delighted at seeing a labouring man shovelling
damaged tobacco, on which no duty had been paid, into
huge furnace appropriately designated "The Queen's Pipe." The
wine-vaults will accomodate 60,000 pipes of wine, while one
dock is devoted exclusively to ships laden with tobacco. So be-
wilderingly extensive is the London Dock that the eye fails to
take in all that is spread out before it. The dock contains an
average of 240 sails.
It must not be supposed that each ship has
its crew.
The crews are paid off, on the vessel entering the dock,
a
SEAMEN IN THE COCKS.
9
and only about five or six hands are retained. But thre hundreds
of men engaged on the docks, and the numbers of seamen in the
ships, render this a fine field for the study of character of the "son
of the ocean," who has braved many a fierce wind, and has been
strong where others would be weak, is weak when he should be
strong—unguarded when he should be careful. Alas! poor Jack,
his very virtues lead him to vice. His assumed friends, the land-
sharks, the wretched women who drug him with their smiles and
professions of friendship, make him their prey. He is soon pressed
with liquor, and liquor is his curse. He falls into the hands of
designing Delilah's, and soon loses that which took him many hours.
of rough work to earn. Mr. Mayhew, in his "London Labour and
London Poor," has very graphically pictured the social condition of
this class of men. The picture, we fear, is but too true. "The dock
labourers," he says, "are a striking instance of mere brute force with
brute appetites. This class of labour is as unskilled as the power of
a hurricane. Mere muscle is all that is needed; hence every human
locomotive is capable of working there
Dock work is pre-
cisely the office, that every kind of man is fitted to perform, and there
we find every kind of man performing it." And there is a terrible
scramble after this employment. "It is a curious sight to see the
men waiting in these yards to be hired at 4 pence per hour." It is
sad to and how brutal many of the men are, and how depraved and
drunken. They reside in some of the lowest haunts of East Lon-
don-in lodging houses which are a disgrace to Christianity, we might
almost say. Yet these houses are somewhat better conducted than
they used to be-though imagination fails to picture how wretched
their former state must have been. The great body of the labour-
ers, it is sad to learn, never attend a place of worship-are not
even visited by Christian men. We have heard of several instances
in which those who have attempted to benefit them have been
insulted and mobbed. The labourers are, therefore, as might
be expected, utterly ignorant of the elementary truths of the
gospel. Mr. Splaine says, "A great many of them can neither
read nor write, and are as ignorant of Divine things as if they were
living in heathen lands. I have frequently addressed from fifteen
to thirty labouring men at the dinner hour on
while they were partaking of that meat which
Al
-
-
:
board of ships; and,
perisheth, I have en-
C
2
10
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
C
deavoured to impress their minds with a sense of their need of not
neglecting to feed their never-dying souls with the bread of life
which cometh down from heaven. My access to these men has been
better than what I once anticipated.”
2
Lightermen differ from bargemen in that the latter convey passen
gers, while the former convey goods from the vessels to the shore, or
vice versa. Many of them work on Sunday; and consequently never
enter God's house. They are more intelligent and less depraved than
the dock labourers.
The reports of all the missionaries engaged in evangelistic labour
in the various docks agree in their descriptions of the terrible evils
produced by drunkenness. Intemperance abounds to a fearful
extent among seafaring people. One missionary writes:-"This is
not to be wondered at, when it is considered, that there is not a
street at this end of London without at least from one to three gin-
palaces or beer-shops. Whenever a new street is to be built, the
first house erected on it, is sure to be a public-house, situate in some
prominent place. When a sailor passes by one of these houses, after
returning from sea, and hears in one of them some singing and
dancing going on, Bill says to Joe, his shipmate, "Come in, and let's
go and see what's all this about," and accordingly they go in, and
come out drunk and robbed of their money. Many instances of
this will be seen at various times recorded in the police intelligence
of London papers, but the larger number of cases never come to
light.
·
Here is a sample of the kind of degradation to which humanity.
will sink. Mr. Splaine, in his last report, wrote: "It is now
over two years since I first noticed an old-looking man, dressed in
seamen's clothes, talking very busily at times with sailors, after they
were 'paid off' at the shipping-office, adjoining the Sailors' Home. I
often endeavoured to get into conversation with him, but found it
impossible, as he always succeeded in avoiding to meet me. At last
I casually met him talking to a sailor, and gave to both of them a
tract; but on pointing out to them the incomparable blessing of being
in a state of peace with God, he became very restless and said,
"I think it's no matter what religion a man professes, it's all the
same thing if he believes that there is a God above. If a man, is
SEAMEN IN THE DOCKS.
11
a Turk, and believes this, there is no fear of him. I believe that
there is a God that rules all things, and do not fear ever being
damned, &c. At this time he got still more impatient, and, seeing
some sailors passing by, he begged to be excused, and followed
them. A few days subsequently one of the shipping masters at
the Sailors' Home pointed out this man to me as being the greatest
and vilest reprobate in existence. It appears that this old sailor
is well known, and lives by 'crimping.' For every sailor he
conducts to houses of debauchery, he receives from the inmates a
few shillings, besides a stipulated sum, he receives from those who
become his victims. Many seamen in this way are brought into
the paths of ruin; and many a young man, after leaving the peace-
ful home of his parents, is thus brought to make shipwreck of his
soul and body. I meet daily in my work with cases of this kind, and
I have no doubt but in a few instances my admonitions have not been
altogether, I trust, in vain in the Lord."
..
ness.
The Sailors' Home is an excellent institution. It provides lodgings
for seamen where they may be safe from the cupidity and devilish
arts of land-sharks. Yet, even here poor Jack is surrounded by
these wretched creatures, who, as he is passing into the building,
will draw him into their low haunts. A sad case is mentioned in
one of the reports, of a young man who was decoyed into a den
of infanty, where he spent the best part of three days in drunken-
The fourth day he was found dead through starvation and
ill-usage. A boatswain of a ship was drugged with laudanum
in one of these houses. Finding himself growing suddenly stapid,
he endeavoured to make his way for the Sailors' Home. He was
followed, and was stabbed in his head with a knife. For three
weeks he lay dangerously ill. A very large number of the residents in
the Sailors' Home are foreigners-mostly German, Danish, Swedish,
and Norwegian. The German sailors are not easily dealt with by the
missionary, since they are fond of reasoning. Many of them esteem
the faith of Christians to be little better than a child's faith-ground-
ed, on no evidence, backed up by tradition and fortified by the superna-
tural. In not a few cases the pride of intellect has given way to a lowly
submission to the cross of Christ. Many recognise the worldly value
of a Christian life. Hence, one of the sailors confessed before his
mates that he would rather sail any day with a religious captain
12
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
than with any other man.
Services are frequently held in this
Home for Sailors, and we believe a Scripture-reader labours exclu
sively amongst them. One of the dock missionaries has conducted
a Monday-evening service in the Destitute Sailors' Asylum for
sick seamen, for over a dozen years. "The aspect of these meetings,"
he informs us," is often such as is well calculated to inspire a true
missionary spirit. Here are men from nearly all quarters of the
globe, and presenting nearly every shade of colour. Black, white,
tawny, and copper coloured assemble here; not unfrequently the
tear is seen to start, under the power of the Word, and I entertain
a hope that much good will be found to have resulted from efforts
put forth in this place."
We had thought of concluding this account by showing the neces-
sity for Christian effort amongst seamen. But the facts we have
related are surely the best proofs of the importance of this work.
It may be well to state, however, that English seamen are regarded,
rightly or wrongly, by the natives of other countries, as specimens
of Englishmen. What impressions they leave upon the inhabitants,
whilst in the ports of other countries, is not a matter of conjecture.
But if they were Christian men, of consistent lives, what an
influence they might wield! How much more respected would Eng-
land be in the eyes of foreigners and savages if, instead of seeing
the typically drunken sailor, they were to encounter men who had
the fear of God before them. And what splendid missionaries
would these men become! Now and then we hear of such sailors.
They have been known to hold meetings with their shipmates, to
distribute tracts in foreign lands, and to commend the doctrines of
truth by their consistent, holy lives. Look, too, at the dangers to
which these poor fellows are subject. Here is an invincible argu-
ment for evangelistic work among seamen.
"The wind," says one
of the missionaries, " as it howls around our land-dwellings, it may
be, takes some ship on a lee-shore, and plunges its crew into a watery
grave. The statistics given before a committee of the House of
Commons some four years since, showed that the loss of life by
shipwreck, and other contingencies of sea-life, is as eleven to sixteen
in all other causes of death. Whilst writing this report I shudder
at the incident which occured in the dock only four days since. The
seamen went to their vessel expecting to sail that day, but were
'
i
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
13
told by the captain that they were not wanted until the morrow,
as the ship would not leave until then. One who was a little in
liquor immediately remarked, 'Come on, lads, there is another night's
spree for us then.' But these were his last words; for, on stepping
from the bulwark to the quay, his foot slipped, he fell into the
water, and was taken up quite dead."
CHAPTER III.
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
What would become of London were it suddenly bereft of its
street boys? Where would country cousins of Londoners find their
amusements, and obtain their captivating stories, were they to loose
those volatile creatures of the street? We have recently been
laughing at Mr. D'Israeli's epigrammatic description of the discon-
tented imaginative Irishman who lives next to a melancholy ocean,
But how often have we had to enjoy the merry pranks of the imagin-
ative boy who lives mostly in the streets! There is no mistaking
him. He has become a regular institution. The metropolis would
be intolerably dull without him. Were he banished into the coun-
try, city men would find trudging through the main thoroughfares
that lead to their business, grievous work. No man in his senses
would walk down the seedy, melancholy City Road or Goswell Road
twice-a-day, were there no boys to amuse him. Were he to try it
for any lengthened period, he might be driven to lunacy. The dul-
lest street, and the most antiquated, is lively and cheery when infest-
ed by street boys. Muddy roads, tortuous crossings, the discomforts
of jolting and squeezing, and elbowing, and the rudeness of men
bent on seeking the interests of that selfish person known as Number
One, the shoutings of costermongers, the screamings of railway
whistles, the terrors of brass bands, and the aggravations of barrel
organs, combine to make men as morose as a prisoner under solitary
confinement. Talk of the discomforts of the imaginative being living
⚫ next to a melancholy ocean, what are they compared to the life of
14
ENGLISIIMEN AT HOME.
suffering and misery endured by the pedestrian in London? He is
doomed to submit to his grievances. And he soon learns to resign him-
self to the inevitable. He knows what awaits him as he turns good
temperedly out of his house in the morning. He predicts what his
annoyances will be, and he receives more than he predicts. Yet he
is compensated for his adversities. All is not bitter experience
with him. His moroseness-the true city type is only to be found
in the city-may be suddenly exchanged for mirth. He has
only to keep his eyes open. One unfailing source of pleasantry is
free to him. He has but to study the nature and doings of that
rare type of reckless, gaiety-the street gamin-to get dispossessed
of his dulness and to forget his vexations. About these boys there'
is something I like. For, after all, in these days of stiffness and
pretentionsness, there is a charm about these frank open-hearted
little fellows. The street boy makes no show of being what he is
not. His fellows soon extract all the starch that may be wrung out
of him. Has he a fine cap? Some one will be sure to relieve him
of it, and make him run half way down the street to regain its
possession. Has he a small beaver hat He must submit to the
dignity of its being crowned. Has he new clothes? There is the
customary and historical nip for him. For the street boy is a rank
tory.
He is true to his traditions. He believes in the good old
days Every act of mischief that savours of antiquity, every bit of
rioting peculiar to the season, has in him a true conservator. He
cherishes in his memory all he has read of the rowdyism of the city
apprentices. He has a marked veneration for Guy Fawkes, and blesses
the day when “ gunpowder treason" does come once in a season.
He is loyal to the throne, but he is chiefly loyal to himself. He
obeys no law but the law of his own will. He has no special
reverence for the policeman. Indeed, his delight is to provoke him.
He is a terror to that functiona ry by night, and a source of dis-
comfort to him by day. He has a peculiar gift of chaffing; and
drunken men are his victims, and ill-tempered companions the sub-
jects of his practical jokes. No costermonger that dares to leave
his truck standing in the street, would run after him; and no
coster monger's truck that comes to grief by being overturned finds
its perpendicular, or is again laden with its treasures, without the
voluntary and kind assistance of the street boy. There is no fire in
<<
>>
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE
15
P
the district which he has not scented out. There is no procession.
the date of which he is unacquainted. His knowledge is wonder-
ful. He can direct you to any street or obscure lane. He knows
the hotels, the colour of the omnibuses, the path they should take,
and the hour of their taking it. He is fond of all the music he
hears. No barrel organ plays a tune without the accompaniment
which whistling affords. He knows all the street cries, and he
deems it his duty to imitate them. He is overjoyed when he can
startle quiet people out of their propriety, and make girls scream
out in terror. He has no respect of persons. With wondrous
assurance he ridicules every swell; and with striking discernment
he discovers every fashionable snob. His great fault is that he is
too knowing. He has learnt too much. He has a capacity for evil,
and too little regard for the good. He is an expert in the one, and
an ignoramus in the other. He has flashes of intelligence when in
the presence of those who can talk in the language which he has
mastered; he is but a dullard when conversed with on higher themes.
Of course, I have been describing the true street boy, whose
characteristics are too numerous and varied for further detail.
Thousands of these lads live in the streets year after year. Many
of them the errand boys and junior clerks-have homes; a very
large number-those engaged in the streets-have none. Some
dwell with their parents, cooped up in a pigeon-hole sort of
garret, with perhaps half-a-dozen brothers and sisters. Such
houses are to be found in those back slums which are never
visited by respectability, or in those tumble-down courts which
have long been threatened by railway companies, or by schemes
for street improvement. Others find their nightly home in some
cheap lodging-house, for which they pay from threepence to
fivepence a night. Others roam about the streets all day, enjoying
what they deem to be a luxurious liberty, searching out some soup
kitchen where they may have what they mysteriously and in-
accurately term "a blow out," and adjourning in the evening to the
casual wards where bread and skilly, a wash and a bed, are
provided for them. It is sad to think that so many consider this
to be living the life of a gentleman. They have no sense of the
degradation which belongs to their vagrant condition. They look
upon society as their enemy. They consider all lovers of law and
ww
1
16
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
order to be meddlers with their liberty, and to have a grudge
against them. They dread control, not because of the hardship so
much as the bare thought of being curbed. Many of them look
upon societies instituted for their benefit as "a sell." They may
take the relief offered them with a generous hand, but they half
suspect the intentions of the givers. Other boys-and these are
characterised by a grimy tint, by a hungry savageness, and by an
animal appearance that sends sadness to the heart-live in the gut-
ters by day, and seek refuge in some hidden corner in a stable-yard,
or under some arch, or in a retired doorway, at night. Many prefer
this method of living to seeking the shelter of the casual ward;
and it is certain that they soon learn to be contented with their lot,
and think themselves fortunate they are no worse off. These are
of the vagrant class-the sons of those who have been styled, "the
curs of humanity," those who people the goals and add to the mad-
houses.
Out of the thousands of boys who may be said to live in the streets
of London, upward of ten thousands, it is believed, are homeless. The
question naturally arises-Where do they all come from? Many, of
course, are born in London, and are the offspring of those who are
paupers and criminals. But, it is to be feared, a large majority of
those who make social shipwreck, when boys, are from the provinces.
Young lads, by the hundred, are coming up from all towns and vil-
lages in England, with the hope of improving their position. It is
with most of them a mere illusion. Those who have parents that
are glad to get them out of hand, or whose cruelty or carelessness
drove them from home, never venture to return to their native place.
It is a serious thing-this influx of lads into an overcrowded city.
The visions of hope that are turned into the unexpected experience
of poverty and ruthless disappointment, are everywhere being in-
dulged in; and the small percentage of success ought to deter youths
from venturing where they are almost certain to meet with pitiless
toil and bitter sorrow. London is overstocked. I have known
gentlemen receiving three hundred letters in response to one adver-
tisement for an ordinary clerk. Country boys come up to town with
the hope of getting a clerkship. How can they compete with
the hundreds of hungry applicants who are lying in wait, and
whose acquaintance with town life renders their chances more pro-
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
17
bable? The same complaints come to England from America. There,
labourers in the country villages are wanted; but hundreds of stal-
wart fellows are begging in the cities. One American paper hopes
that some "tidal wave
" of common sense will sweep over the city-
struck simpletons who crowd and jostle each other in the towns, and
bear them back to their proper and nobler sphere of duty. Henry
Ward Beecher's quaint yet sensible and serious advice deserves
attention in England. "Let the city," he says in a sermon to
young men, "if it needs you, come and find you. Let the city seek
you, and not you the city: Dispel the illusion, and its glory, and its
power, and the lying hopes with which it beguiles you. Blessed are
they that, being born in the country, know enough to stay there."
A plain matter-of-fact view of the present condition of the home-
less boys of London is perhaps the best that could be taken. These
boys should not be constant drains upon the purses of the chari-
table. They should not be relieved by every little society, or
every small mission that pauperises those whom it aids. The
truest philanthropy is preventitive and remedial. Here is an
immense waste of human life and energy. What is to become of
these lads if they are permitted to seek their livelihood in the
crowded streets, and are helped by those who only partly relieve
them? Night refuges are invaluable, no doubt; but one fears that
they encourage the evil rather than retard it. At least, they mast
do so of necessity in some cases. There are numbers of boys,
observes the Times, "tossed loose on the world to be maimed,
crippled, diseased, and killed off before their time, and instead of
being made into intelligent men, to be crushed into troublesome
animals." Something more, then, than mere temporary help is
required. The raw material should not be left to polish itself. There
is no chance of such a boy becoming a useful and respected member
of society unless he be taken in hand and cared for. The providing
of sleeping accommodation will, undoubtedly, be the means of
keeping him from those contaminating influences which the
"Amateur Casual" described so painfully a few years ago. But
more than this is wanted. Who is to do it, and how is it to be done?
These two questions occupied the thoughtful attention of a gen-
tleman whose life has been devoted, with an earnestness and true-
'heartedness perhaps unparalleled in modern philanthropy, to the
3
C
18
social and religious improvement of the juvenile waifs and strays of
the metropolis. It is to Mr. William Williams, the Secretary of the
Refuges for Homeless and Destitute Children, that the success of the
movement now in so flourishing a condition, is mainly due. His
name will ever be honourably remembered as the founder of one of
the most beneficent enterprises ever conceived for the rescue of neg-
lected and wretched children. We have no great sympathy with
those who refuse to give a fair meed of praise to honoured men who
have richly deserved it. And since Lord Shaftesbury has publicly
recognised the invaluable services of Mr. Williams, and his intel-
ligence, zeal, and activity, for the public good, we need not be
abstemious in the choice of congratulatory words with reference to his
services. The highest praise, however, which a Christian man
can have is not in the plaudits of an approving public, but
in the blessing which the Master gives, and gives, too, in the success
of the labours undertaken. Mr. Williams and his fellow helpers
have the satisfaction of witnessing results which probably they little
anticipated when first commencing their humble efforts for the re-
clamation of the wretched boys and girls of London.
It would be impossible to picture the utterly wretched and lost
condition of the homeless and destitute children. There was no
school for them. A hay-left over a cow-shed was secured, and fitted
up as a school-room. This room was opened in 1843, and was the
first Ragged School movement in St. Giles. Not much help was
afforded at first, but the seeds were sown for a large and abundant
harvest. The origin of the work was therefore very humble, and
the appliances more than usually simple. The history of the growth
of the movement would be very interesting, could it be given in
full. But this is impossible in our pages. "The effort," Mr. Williams
states in one of his reports, "may be compared to a young tree,
having been planted by a few of God's servants, in faith and hope;
it soon became manifest that it had taken deep root, and year after
year it was evident, the dew of heaven was not only nourishing the
parent stem, but all the branches thereof." And now that other
branches have been added to the old trunk, the desire of the
committee is realised, since they believe the tree has "attained
those dimensions which can be properly superintended so as still
to keep it healthy, and its branches flourishing.
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
19
f
The good old trunk has two large and distinct branches, with a
number of smaller twigs on each. There is first the Refuge Work,
and secondly the Ragged School operations. We shall content
ourselves with merely giving a general and brief survey of the work
of the Society, and a detailed account of what we have seen of the
operations carried on in the several Refuges.
The Refuge Work is conducted in various places, and is the
largest in London. One hundred boys are housed in Great Queen-
Street; two hundred are located in the Farm and Industrial School
at Bisley, near Woking. In addition to these, there are two homes
for girls, which have been exceedingly useful in training them up
for service, and in preventing them taking that downward course
which leads to the ruin of body and soul. The work of the Society
may be fittingly described by one word-it is "thorough." The
boys in the Refuge are clothed, lodged, and fed. They are taught
the three "r's,' and taught also how to spell those "r's" properly.
All the inmates are present morning and evening at family worship.
They also attend Sunday School and Divine Worship once on a
Sunday. The desire of the promoters of the Society is mainly
religious; and no effort is spared to bring them under the sound of the
gospel. That many of the lads are lamentably ignorant of all Scrip-
ture Knowledge is not to be wondered at. Some have no sort of rever-
ence for sacred things. A story is told of a city Arab, who was
evidently an ardent admirer of what he considered to be heroism, and
well acquainted with the language of prize-fighters. The ragged-school
teacher was interrupted constantly whenever the stories of patriarchal
heroes were related to him, by disparaging comparisons with Tom
Sayers. "Moses and Joshua was all very well," he is recorded to have
said, "but what was they to that little chap a-standing up as game
as a bantam cock before that great, thunderin" yankee, and a knock-
ing of him down like a ninepin? Bless you, Noah and all that lot
weren't fit to hold a candle to him. He war a hero, he war.
Another lad at an examination, on reading of the "wheat and
chaff," referred to in Matthew, defined the chaff as "impidence."
But it is unnecessary to quote instances to prove what is so sadly
notorious a fact. It will be seen that with the ignorance these
poor lads manifest, they display no ordinary acuteness, which, under
proper management, may be made to bear useful results.
13
20
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
It should be stated, lest our readers labour under a not unnatural
misconception that the Industrial Schools' Act-a truly beneficent
measure, which has worked admirably--does not meet the cases of
the poor boys and girls of London. We believe there are only two
such schools, certified under that Act, for the whole of the metro-
polis. "These schools," we are told, "receive about forty boys
each, and have been full for some time with cases sent by magistrates;
and as the managers of two of those schools, receive six shillings
per week per head from the Government for every boy received
under a magistrate's warrant, it follows that a poor boy voluntarily
seeking a home in these Government Certified Schools, has very
little chance of gaining admission. Moreover, the Act makes no
provision for a boy if he is over fourteen years of age. Now, it is
a fact which cannot be disputed, that there are in this city from
all parts of the country, a very large number of boys without home
or friends, over the age of fourteen years, and for whose welfare no
provision is made by the Government, unless they steal and are
taken before the magistrates for the offence, and then they may be
sent by the magistrate for three or four years to a certified
reformatory, and maintained at the expense of the State." The
stipendiary magistrates are, however, exceedingly loth to send
a boy to a reformatory, and seem to prefer sending him to
a goal. And to do this, is practically to ruin the lad for life.
Of course, this does not hold good in the country, where magistrates
send lads to the reformatories more frequently, and for the most
trivial offences. This not being the case in the metropolis, what
is to become of a boy who finds himself homeless and destitute in
the great world of London? There is no Government help by
which he may be prevented from falling into crime. The State only
assists criminals. A boy unconvicted of crime, is, however, admitted
into the Refuge on his own application. He goes to the Secretary,
who never turns a lad away from the doors of the institution, how-
ever full the house may be. The lad, Mr. Williams tells me,
would lose all heart, were he held in suspense; and delay would
be dangerous. It is presumed that it requires some courage for
the applicant to make up his mind to leave his vagrant life. He
is, therefore, taken while he is in the humour. The Secretary
receives him, and then makes all needful enquiries, rather, as he says,
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
21
1
than keep him out of the Refuge, exposed to starvation, until the
enquiries, have been made. Nor can there he two opinions as to
the urbanity and wisdom of this course of procedure. Up-
ward of 246 boys sought and found a home in the Refuge
in 1880, while 117 had remained from the previous year.
A society that can thus rescue and educate, clothe, and provide a trade
for 363 boys in one year, and afterward procure for them a situation,
is one that is doing the Divine Master's work. It should be added
that the boys are admitted either on their own application, or on the
application of those who are interested in their welfare. The
Society is in communication with all the casual wards and night
asylums of the metropolis, and from these a large percentage of the
inmates are derived.
What may be regarded as the crowning act of the committee
occurred in the year 1866. Early in January Mr. Greenwood's vivid
and touching picture of a night spent in the casual ward of Lambeth
Workhouse, published in the Pall Mall Gazette, and from thence
copied into nearly every paper in the Kingdom, sent a shock of horror
through the country. It may be said that scarcely any article, or
series of articles, ever produced so great an impression as those of
the "Amateur Casual." One of the members of the committee
considered what might be done to rescue the boys who were found
in such resorts. As the result of his deliberation, a supper was
announced, for the 14th of February. Two hundred ragged urchins
came. We have several reports of the event, which we have pre-
served, and from these we cull a few items that will be read with
interest. It appears there would have been a much larger attend-
ance had not the lads mistrusted the promoters of the banquet.
Some refused to go on the ground that there would be "lots of
jaw and nothing to eat-only skilly." The average age of the lads
was about nine or ten years. They were deplorably wretched in
appearance: clothed in rags barely sufficient to answer the purposes
of decency; they had skin diseases in the head, some were cripples,
others were suffering from illness, or were half-recovered from fever.
One account says :-
"All degrees of destitutions were represented. A few had homes,
but 'father' was blind or out of work, and they were left to pick
up a living as best they could. But, father and mother both dead'
C
22
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
}
was the common story, with now and then, as a variation. 'Don't
know nothin' on 'em; haven't seen 'em for ever so long;' or
perhaps, 'Don't never reck'lect seeing 'em'. One little fellow,
when asked how long he had been without a home, made answer
simply, with evidently no suspicion of its pathos, 'Always.' He
had been born in a work-house, and his mother (his father he had
never known even by name) disappeared before he was well weaned.
Many of the boys-almost all under sixteen years of age, the average
being about twelve or thirteen-had slept the night before in one
or other of the casual wards, or in a cheap lodging-house; but not
a few had spent the night in the streets. Four came in together--a
wretched, unkempt group--who had slept under the piazza ať
Convent Garden. Two had crouched together in a half-finished
sewer. The 'shutter-box' at Druy Lane Theatre had been the
bed on which another slept. Of costume, there was every variety.
Some were in tatters from head to foot, so that it was a marvel
how the 'looped and windowed raggedness' was held together."
Plainly there was a great effort made to keep up the appearance of
the regular number of garments—at least, to have some sort of coat,
if only as much of one as a collar, with a slit back and part of a
sleeve. One wore a robe of sacking like a poncho. But in one
or two instances, a poor child might be seen shivering in only a
ragged shirt. Shoes, too, were quite de rigueur, but such shoes!
the soles loose, the sides gaping-the whole ruin bound together
with pieces of cord lest it should drop to pieces. Of the supper
itself much might be said. Half a pound of good cold roast beef,
with large piece of bread (about twice the size of the casual 'toke'),
washed down with a cup of coffee, was a meal so lavish and luxuri-
ous, that at first it almost awed them by its magnificence. Indeed,
for awhile, except for the clatter of knives and forks, and the con-
versation of the visitors, there was comparative quiet. Even when
the shyness had worn off, the business on hand was too solemn and
important to admit of idle talk, which, besides, was a waste of time.
As the plates were cleared, tongues began to loosen, and when large
dishes of smoking plum pudding (a pound to each allowance) appear-
ed, there was a tremendous cheer. They had come for gruel, and had
got beef and pudding. It was a sad sign that many of these poor boys
did not yield to their appetites, but saved the greater part of the
--
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
23
44
pudding for another meal. Except a few of the regular tramp order,
who had pouches knowingly contrived in their tattered raiment,
most of the lads were puzzled to know how to carry away their
surplus, and bits of newspaper were gradually received. Nothing
could be better than the behaviour of the company. There was no
quarrelling among each other as to who should be helped first, no
invasion of each other's dishes, and they showed considerable conscien-
tiousness in passing up the shares first to those who sat near the wall
and distant from the waiters. They were quiet and attentive when
addressed by Lord Shaftesbury and other speakers, and joined in the
singing of a hymn decorously, and with evident enjoyment of the
music. At the end, fourpence-a-piece was given them to pay for
lodgings."
Of all the inscrutable mysteries of social life, nothing excites one's
wonderment so readily as a piece of patchwork. First item of
astonishment is, how came these varied-shaped, many-coloured, and
colourless fragments of silk into one person's possession? On this
point you may exhaust much, if not all, your native ingenuity; and
so ere you reach item No. 2, you are baffled, and what John Plough-
man (begging his pardon) would probably call "moonstruck." And,
query the second is equally difficult of ascertainment.
How came
the pieces-having found their way into close association—to be
fitly joined together and neatly arranged, with taste and judgment
sometimes, and in violation of both generally? By what magical
process were they brought together in such wondrous harmony and
disharmony? Silks of all sizes, shapes, hues, qualities, thicknesses,
all forming one happy family; suns, moons, stars, and stripes,
diamonds, peacocks, fern-leaves-every conceivable pattern, and
some woefully bereft by age of all discernible pattern-here is a
pretty conglomeration which no man can understand. Were they
united in this ill-selected marriage by some ill-natured spinster fairy,
who had a spite against mankind, and so with wondrous wand,
called into existence these mysterious quilts, in order that when
some poor wretched bachelor lay ill in bed, the patterns might
present a confused jumble to his eyes, like pieces of glass in endless
tortuous confusion in a kaleidoscope, and drive him fairly out of
his wits, if a confirmed bachelor ever had any? Were they the
invention of certain, poor, money-expecting relations, who wishe
24
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
to drive some penurious rich uncle out of the world, when he
had the misfortune to fall ill; or by the sight of these dazzling
colours and absurd patterns, to send him out of his mind and
thus qualify him for a lunatic asylum, and qualify themselves
for participation in certain funds? I don't know; only-here
is the greatest mystery of all-how any man
can get well
again after studying for hours in bed these fantastic exhibitions of
misapplied genius and industry?
C
Why I should be thinking of patchwork while walking through
Lincoln's Inn and certain adjacent streets, may not be very clear to
the reader, and is not altogether so to the writer. But he who
wanders through some of the London streets-especially in old locali-
ties where modern improvements have been made-will not have
failed to be struck with their patchwork appearance. The Zebra
style of Gothic architecture is confined to churches and suburban
villas that are built for cheapness and gaudy effect. The higgle-de-
piggedly style of no-architecture is truly British and essentially
metropolitan. Everybody has the right to build differently from every-
body else, and neighbours, duly respecting their privileges as free-born
Britons and thinking that variety is charming, are determined to be
as opposite in their tastes and wants to the builder of the next house
as they can well be. Certain dingy, parti-coloured, half-modern, half-
antiquated houses near Lincoln's Inn Fields-such fields! the
breath of the lawyers having withered all vegetation-are undoubted
evidences of the variety of mind and taste to be found in the human
species. Society is a piece of patchwork; the houses in which society
dwells are in the patchwork style of building; and in the houses,
the eye is haunted by the same proof of passionate love for innu-
merable bits of absurd, bungled shreds of wearing apparel denomin-
ated patchwork.
In one of these streets, which bears emphatic evidence of the decay
of time and the renovation of modern times, is situated a somewhat
faded-looking shop devoted to the exhibition of strong-made boots
and shoes. A boot shop is never a bright spectacle; for boots are
only bright in their polished state-and that is not even skin deep.
Unusually interesting, however, is this boot shop. Over the lintel
of the door you read the announcement, "Refuge for Homeless and
Destitute Boys." You ring the bell. "Is Mr. Williams here, my
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
25
little man?" You ask a pleasant-looking lad, whose hair has asserted
its right to aspire as high as its length will allow it, and whose gene-
ral appearance bears that semi-official character which is only gained
by the performance of onerous duties. "Yes, sir," replies the juvenile
porter, as he closes the door with due propriety, and struts forward
with the air of a burgeois, to inform the good Secretary that a visitor
had come.
11
Looking around you, you see in a large, well-ventilated room, a
number of boys, seated on shoemaker's benches, with their "kits
by their side, hammering, stitching, cobbling, nailing, waxing, past-
ing, and rasping; all done in a workmanlike style, and in such
concert that the effect can best be described as shoemaker's music,
the music of lapstones, delightful to hear-but only once in your
life! You are in the midst of a busy hive, in which none are
drones. Every boy is a king on his throne, and though it is
only a cobbler's throne, it is, to these lads, an elevation from their
once lowly condition. You are struck at once with the cheerfulness
and the alacrity of the lads. Had they nothing better to look at
than each other, they might grow melancholy and misanthropic;
but with a boot on their lap which by incessant, pleasant labour,
is growing into shape and fashion, and with contentedness in their
hearts, and with a foretaste of a coming dinner, the fumes of which
are already filling the room, it would be strange indeed for them
to be unhappy. And yet there is a sign here and there in some of
the little workers of past neglect and sorrow; marked indications
in old-fashioned faces and furrowed cheeks of a bygone period of
misuse of youth that, thank God, is not the experience of
universal boyhood. For though these boys are now housed and
cared for, and nourished by comforts to which they once were
strangers, yet human philanthropy can never perfectly restore the
handsome face, blooming sweetness of youthful innocence, and the
childish vivaciousness which seem to be quenched in the lives
of these "old boys." Poor creatures! They have certainly lost
somewhat of their once normal shagginess; their hair is no
longer matted and uncombable—each hair has been brought into that
condition of things in which it has to fight for growth independently
of working its way through a thousand other hairs and intertwining
itself with a mass of other locks in inextricable confusion. All
4
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
26
that has been remedied. Disease and the rapid inroads of decay have
been stopped; but the traces are left behind. The future alone can
prove that they can ever be thoroughly erased. It requires no great
discernment to be convinced that these lads would probably have
been found in goals had they not been rescued from the streets.
They have not yet lost, though they are losing that appearance of
viciousness, that look of dogged sullenness indicative of early
suffering and -misery and hatred of society which, if permitted to
ripen as years bring on to manhood, blast every moral feeling and
blunt every tender and healthy susceptibility. How can these
youths cherish kindly sympathies when they are left without a
glimmering of that "light and sweetness" which cultured minds and
sanctified hearts alone can impart to them? What parent reading
these lines has not sought to turn the precocity of childhood into
the highest advantage? As soon as he catches-
"Imperfect words, with childish trips,
Half unpronounced slide through the infant lips,
Driving dumb silence from the portal door,
Where he had mutely sat two years before :"
he begins to observe the growing powers of the infantile mind, and
to surround that mind with all the objects and lessons and actions
which shall stimulate healthy enquiry and develop the finest, tender-
est feelings. But what of the child who never had this machinery
of education before it? The sparks of whose natural passions were
from the first, fanned into a flame, and that flame, as years went
on, blown upon till it reached a height of revengefulness, which
wrapped the soul in a fiery atmosphere of evil, until it became an
incipient hell! No example to check the evil passions of youth-
no faithful loving hand to deal with the follies which seek to work
their way into the core of the young heart!
"Like caterpillars, dangling under trees
By slender threads, and swinging in the breeze,
Which filthily bewray and sore disgrace
The boughs in which are bred the unseemly race-
While every worm industriously weaves
And winds his web about the rivell'd leaves;
So numerous are the follies that annoy
The mind and heart of every sprightly boy."
And yet there is no one to "watch his emotions and control their
tide." Every evil passion is allowed to have its course unchecked;
precocious evil is laughed at and admired; sin is encouraged, and
the sinner patted on the back! What after-education, I ask, can
bring innocence back?
My
·
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
27
Observable as all these sad traces are, there are signs of moral
improvement in these once wretched Bedouins of London. They
evince no small pleasure at the kindly look of a stranger and his
approving word. This is an advancement. Once they cared for
no smile, and disregarded all frowns. They have lost that Ishmaelit-
ish
feeling-that capacity for unnatural hatred—that sense of
extreme isolation which drives all sympathetic feeling from them. As
you see them associated in groups at their work, the pleasant conver-
sation and brotherly interest in each other's labour prove that they
can be raised above the selfishness of their nature, and that vicious-
ness is not so ingrained that it cannot be overcome.
• You do not see the lads to best advantage, so far as personal appear-
ance is concerned, while they are shoe-making. Any clothes are
good enough to work in. But there they are to the very life-street
boys, with the marks of street life upon them, put to interesting
work, which they prefer to their old idling courses. Naturally some
take more kindly to the work than others; some get a passion for
the labour which elevates them, and others learn more quickly, and
reach perfection sooner than those who are more dull and less recep-
tive. So it is everywhere. The cases of failure are not, however,
numerous. The lads readily learn, and if one branch of labour does
not suit them another is chosen. All the boots required for the boys
and girls in the Refuge are made on the premises, and all the cob-
bling needed is done by the boys.
Behind the large room in which these youthful cobblers are plying
their trade is a carpenter's shop, a large and spacious apartment, and
also a tailors' class. All the boys' clothes are made and repaired in
the Refuge. There are also other occupations, such as mattress-
making and wood-chopping. In one corner is the large cistern for
bathers, the water presenting a very different appearance to the "mut-
ton broth" of the casual wards. Upstairs we are introduced to the
culinary apartment. Preparations were being made on a large scale
for a grand dinner to poor children, who were expected to join the
inmates of the Refuge. There was a fine joint of beef-real Christmas
beef (it was only a few weeks to Christmas). Such a joint deserved
the hurrahs of the hungry youths. The matron was superintending
the arrangements, and some of the elder boys were serving (as they
always do) as cooks. And capital cooks they seem to be, having a
28
ENGLISIIMEN AT HOME.
true discernment of the nature of the attentions required to make
the food presentable and eatable: they are assiduous, clean, and tidy.
All the boys spend several hours of the day in reading, writing, and
arithmetic. They have a schoolmaster; the reading book is the
Bible, than which no better could be had; and every effort is made
to instruct the lads in those things which may fit them for the duties
and responsibilities of life, and lead them to the higher world of
thought, where the noblest passions are enkindled and the purest
motives are gained.
*
The stories of the lives of these lads present many features of
painful interest. I have been favoured with a batch of them in
their own hand-writing. The first on the list was born in Homerton
Union; he never knew his father; his mother died through drink,
and was buried by the parish. He then lived with a brother, who
turned him out of doors because he would not sell matches. He
went again to the Union, and was taught in the school there a year.
Then he ran away, and occupied the post of a boy who had fallen
sick, in a stable-yard, until he recovered from his illness Subse-
quently he was required to apprentice himself for seven years to the
owner of a fishing smack; but, deeming that too long a service, he
refused, and was lodged in the Boys' Refuge. This lad's writing is
very creditable, and his sentences are not badly put together.
Another boy lost father and mother when three years of age;
another's father died some months before his birth. Another boy's
story is to this effect:-His mother and father died in a workhouse.
He then went to work with his uncle in the stables. He would not,
however, mind what his uncle told him; and he says, "I had to leave
home on account of my being so wicked to my aunt. I used to go of
a night and sleep in the cabs, and I then got too dirty to obtain a
place, and so ragged, that I had to go to the workhouse again." After-
ward he tried to find some employment, but failing that he begged
from house to house for 'bread. Another boy has a father still living,
but he does not know where. "I have no others, no aunts nor
uncles to look after me, I am sorry to say." He had to tramp in
early youth on the road; then he did some market gardening in Col-
chester. This boy seems to have tramped a good deal, but now he
thanks God, he says, for bringing him where he is cared for, and
kept from the streets and starvation. And we thank God, too,
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
29
Other stories reveal the same state of things. Parents who have
thrown their children upon the tender mercies of an unsympathetic
world; parents who have died, in pitiless neglect, in crushing sor-
row; mothers who, in bringing more children of poverty into the
world, have gone out of it unwept and unlamented; mothers whose
child was their shame, and whose shame urged them to forsake the
inheritance of their sin; fathers whose brutal sottishness had almost
quenched the light of the soul of their child, and whose neglect had
forced it to starvation; relatives whose love of strong drink had dis-
possessed them of all tenderness of feeling, and whose crimes had.
divorced them from the children they should have protected-chil-
dren who have been trained up for the same evil courses which they
have so readily pursued, and for which they have been so severely
punished. O God, what a long and miserable catalogue of the fruits
of sin !
Pitiful, indeed, is the confession of some! "My mother," says one,
"is in an asylum, and my father ran away because they were never
married. They could not agree with one another, and when I was
out I used to go and beg my bread." But enough!
Not far from the Boy's Refuge is the Home for Friendless and
Destitute Girls. The building is an exceedingly suitable one, and is
situated in Broad Street, Bloomsbury. Here 100 girls are housed,
educated, and cared for. On the ground floor, a ragged school is
conducted; above is the school, where the inmates are instructed in
writing. The girls are decently attired, and as clean as Quakeresses.
They are of various ages, and sizes. Not a few bear the marks of
hunger and want, which it takes some time to wear off. Some
appear as if all childhood had been crushed; others, dull and heavy-
looking, seem as if they had never known what it was to laugh.
These girls have been rescued from miserable homes in filthy courts.
Two lived with their father, and slept in one room with other
children and with one or two married couples. Others have been
taken from abodes and associations of the vilest character. It is sad
to think how many thousands there are of poor, poverty-stricken
girls in the metropolis in the same condition, growing up to swell
the ranks of a class "sinned against" and "sinning." The efforts
of the society, important as they are in this branch, are necessarily
on a small scale compared with the great multitude who need aid.
30
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
The committee feel that some plan ought to be carried out on a
large and adequate scale to educate and train the girls of the poorest
class of society. What they have done is creditable to them. They
have a suitable Home at Ealing, in addition to the one in Blooms-
bury; and we are told that "the girls in both Refuges are provided
with a plain, but useful education, based upon sound Christian and
evangelical principles; they are also clothed, lodged, and provided
with three meals a-day. Domestic service being the ultimate
object for which these girls are educated and trained, they are of
course, taught to do all kinds of household work, such as washing,
cooking, cleaning, &c. Their own clothes are also made and re-
paired by the inmates. "The making of shirts for the boys, not
being a part of the tailoring business conducted in the Boys' Home,
is undertaken by the girls. A portion of the washing, as we saw
in the washhouse below, is done at the Broad Street Refuge by the
girls, but the greater part, together with the washing for the Boys'
Refuge, is done at Ealing. This, of course, is a great saving
to the funds of the institution-worth about £325 a year.
And as washing is, thank goodness, an exclusively feminine
accomplishment, the girls are very happy and delighted with it,
having mastered its mysteries, and compassed its difficulties.
The dormitories are unusually comfortable and pleasant-“ sweet
as a nut" we believe is the right expression-the very pink of
perfection. We were shown-tell it not in Gath, publish it not in
Askelon-the wardrobes, where the girls stow away their Sunday
clothes, with such unapproachable neatness. We observed select
apartments which are intended for grown-up girls who may sleep here
when out of a situation, and while they are seeking another. For
Mr. Williams is wondrously indefatigable. He follows up the girls,
knows all their histories, peculiarities, (shall I add) little vanities, and
when they are put out to service, his knowledge of them still continues.
So it is with the boys. For he is no more secretary, with a quill pen
behind his ear, and bound hand and foot with red tape. The secretary
of such an institution as this, should have a real, loving soul—a true
man, with a large heart and a tender spirit. The very smiling looks
of the girls and boys, as he approaches them, indicate his popularity.
To the boys again. In 1881, a new country home for the boys
2
was opened at Bisley. A small farm of eighty-eight acres has been
---
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
31
•
purchased, to which all the young and weakly boys are to be trans-
ferred from the London Refuge, so that they may be trained to
look after cows and pigs, grow vegetables, till the land, and so be
fitted for work either at home or in the colonies. This is a further
extension of the work of the society. We have not said anything
yet of "Chichester" training ship, on board which are 150 boys
who are being brought up for the royal navy and merchant service.
This branch of the society's efforts is naturally popular with the
boys, most of whom are filled with grand ideas of the unknown
blessings of sea-life. It has also been immensely popular with the
public, who hitherto have not failed to support it. "A large
number of the boys are most eager," we are told,
we are told, "to enter the
Queen's service, and certainly some twenty more would have gone
into that service, but were rejected because the certificate of birth
could not be produced to show the age of the boys.. This was for
the time of a great blow to the boys, and damped their ardour to
serve their Queen and country. However, the committee are in-
formed that the lords of the admiralty intend to rescind the regula-
tion requiring the production of this certificate, and will shortly
pass an order authorising the entry of boys into the royal navy
on the boys own declaration of his age, and his willingness to serve
for a definite period. The committee are therefore thankful that
the door will soon be open for the admission of the "Chichester"
boys into the navy, who come up to the age and standard height
required by the Admiralty regulations, because so many of the
lads wish for that service, and for some it is the service above all
others which is best for them."
One of the wretched lads referred to by the amateur casual on
his visit to the Lambeth night wards known as "Punch." This
lad was taken to the Refuge, and he is now apprenticed to a boot-
maker in Africa, where he is doing well. Altogether upward of
314 boys have emigrated to New Zealand, Canada, United States,
Queensland, Nova Scotia, South Africa, &c. ; 304 have been placed
in situations at home; 153 have been restored to parents and
friends; 80 have entered the merchant service, and 46 into the
navy :-317 girls have been sent to service, and 222 have been
restored to their friends, while others have emigrated.
We con
clude by giving two cases of some interest, representative of others
32
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
which the society has provided for. The first is the case of a
coloured boy, once a slave, who was found by a silversmith in the
city, wandering about near his shop.
"The very fact of seeing a lonely little black boy sauntering
about the streets was sufficient to attract any one's attention, but
some how or other, many of these poor outcasts seem to be passed
over unnoticed, but in this instance it was not so, for the heart of
the citizen was moved with compassion for the little African, and
finding from the boy how matters stood with him, he sent one of
his shopmen with the little fellow to the Refuge, where he at once
found a home and friends. The account the boy gives of himself
is this:He says he was born near Charleston, South Carolina,
United States. His father and mother, with a brother, and his
father's brother, were brought from Africa, and sold to the owner
of a plantation not far from Charleston. There were nearly four
hundred slaves on the estate, who were all freed by the war. He
gave a very graphic and interesting account of the ecstacies of
these poor slaves when they heard they were free. On the happen-
ing of this event, the father and mother, with this boy, another
lad, and the father's brother, left the estate and went to Charleston,
where the father obtained employment. After the parents had
been some time in Charleston, the father took the fever and died,
and a year or so afterward the mother was carried to her grave
by the same dreadful malady, thus living this little one an entire
orphan, and quite alone and friendless, for his brother had gone
to sea, and his uncle had returned to Africa. He gave a touching
account of the character of his mother, especially in teaching
him to pray, and when asked what she taught him to say, he
repeated in a calm, orderly, and reverential manner, the Lord's Prayer;
and when asked what else his mother taught him, he said she told
him to be a good boy, and 'den de great Farder would be a fadder
to me when she was gone,' and when asked who the great Father
was, he said 'God.' Poor little fellow, who could help feeling for
such a friendless boy? Finding himself alone and destitute on the
death of his mother, he set out for New York in the hope of getting
a ship there, and working his way out to the Cape of Good Hope,
where his uncle had opened a barber's shop. He did not succeed at
New York in meeting with a ship, so he went to Boston and other
HOMELESS AND DESTITUTE.
33.
sea-ports with the same result; at last he managed to reach Quebec,
where he induced a captain to let him work his way to Liverpool.
On arriving there he was told he had better get to London, so
some one put him in the 'straight road,' as he called it, and in ten
days he reached the great city. He fared pretty well on the road
from Liverpool, but on reaching London he was again doomed to
disappointment for although he went to the docks he could induce
no one to take him to the Cape. He tried to get in at the Stranger's
Home and the Sailors' Home, near the docks, but both these doors
were closed against him, and so he had no alternative but to wander
about, and after doing so, and being utterly destitute, the great
Father, whom his kind mother told him would be a father to him,
inclined the heart of the gentleman before mentioned to take pity
on the boy, and send him to the Refuge, and here he is a happy and
contented lad. May God bless him, and make his stay here a real
blessing to him.
The second case is that of a soldier's girl :-"The father of this
child entered the army when young. After a few years' service he
obtained leave to marry. He served with his regiment in Ireland
and various parts of England, and on the regiment being ordered to
Australia, he and his wife accompanied it. While in Australia the
poor man had a slight attack of paralysis through a sun-stroke, as
it was supposed, which for a time disabled him, but he recovered
pretty well from this calamity, and remained well for some time,
when it pleased the disposer of all events to allow him to be afflicted
with a second attack of paralysis; this disabled him from duty, and
shortly afterward his mind became affected, and he was ordered
home to England. When put on board the homeward-bound vessel,
he was a confirmed lunatic. A great change had now come over the
lot of the poor soldier's wife. When she arrived with her husband in
the country she was now leaving, everything looked lovely, but now all
her hopes were blighted, and she was returning to England with a
maniac husband and three dear children, to exist upon the husband's
pension of ten pence per day, earned after serving his Queen and coun-
try for more than twenty-one years! Could anything be more melan-
choly for a woman, left too as she was without any relation or friend
5
·
34
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
of her own! On the voyage the poor mother lost one child, which
increased her sorrow of heart. On, arriving in England, the poor
woman, after a good deal of trouble, found out her husband's native
place; she managed to get him there, but he died shortly afterward.
After husband's death, the mother tried to keep herself and two
fatherless children by field and other work, but it was a very sad
affair, for her husband's pension had ceased, and there was nothing-
for her and the children to exist upon. The clergyman of the
parish appears to have been kind to the woman, and at length
admission for the boy was obtained in the Duke of York's School,
The poor woman brought up the boy to London, but as he was an
entire stranger, the clergyman wrote to one of the city missionaries
to meet her and put her way to find the School at Chelsea. This he
kindly did, and then finding she was here in London without a
friend, or a home, or the means of procuring one, he sent her to the
secretary of the Refuges, in the hope that the little girl might be
received. She came very late at night to the Secretary's residence,
and the result was that the child was admitted. The joy of the
poor woman when she received an order for the girl's reception into
the Refuge was great indeed; truly the widow's heart sang for joy.
Does it not seem a cruel thing that no government provision is made
for soldier's daughters why should there not be a school for girls,
similar to the Duke of York's school for boys? The poor woman is
still without a home, and has to resort to a Night Refuge for
shelter; and then to walk about all day, as she is turned out every
morning at eight o' clock."
Many of the poor lads grow up and obtain good positions in
life. Mr. Brock once met a physician, riding in his carriage, who
had been a refuge boy. Of the institution, we may say, and greater
commendation could no man give-The blessing of God is upon it!
this
CHAPTER IV.
HOMES WITH NO NAME.
One summer evening, the writer, with three metropolitan
ministers, visited and inspected one of the several homes for fallen
women which philanthropy has opened for their reformation. The
HOMES WITH NO NAME.
35
home is situated in one of the healthiest suburbs of London, not far
from one of the stations of a branch of the Underground Railway.
Exteriorly, there is nothing to indicate the purpose for which the
building is applied; a wise and delicate feeling having decided that
the name of the institution should not appear on the outside of any
of the homes. The external appearance is therefore not distinguished
from any of the surrounding houses, all of which are of the comfort-
able, old-fashioned type of family residences. Inside, the houses
have every convenience, and the dormitories are clean, well-
ventilated, and remarkably tidy. The kitchen gardens and small
orchards attached to the houses-for there are three of them-add to
the healthiness and picturesque character of the homes, of which
one, that is kept distinct from the others, is used for convalescents,
or young women of good character on their discharge from hospitals.
As far as may be, the homes are conducted on the principle of a
private family, and are under the care of a matron and assistants.
Of course the women and girls are not kept here in idleness.
To do that, would be to offer the best incentive to return to the
evil habits which have so degraded them. They are trained as
laundresses, an occupation to which they seemed to have taken kindly.
We visited the commodious shed in which they were busily
at work. They had been previously singing, and at the request of the
Secretary, Mr. Thomas, they struck up some popular revival tunes,
which were rendered with some spirit and sweetness. Indeed, one was
surprised that, after exposure in the streets, winter and summer, they
should have retained that melody of voice which is the attribute of girl-
hood. The girls-for many of them could hardly be called women-werə
tidily dressed, were mostly physically strong and healthy in appear-
ance; and those who had marks of past excesses upon them, seemed to
have
very little else in their general demeanour which would indicate
a low type of morality. Indeed, the younger and fairer looked so much
like respectable domestic servants, that it was not unnatural that one
of our friends enquired of the Secretary whether all had been rescued
from a degraded life. The sad affirmative answer spoke volumes
as to the misery and the disgrace through which girls so young had
passed. Our visit was simply an informal one, and therefore
addresses were not expected; but at the desire of the young
women, one of our number ventured upon a short address, in which
36
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
•
the story of Christ's love was presented in winning simplicity of
speech. Of course, no reference was made to the particular sin that
stained them; and no air of superiority was assumed by thespeaker,
who addressed them as one sinful creature would another. And
so, after prayer, and the singing of another hymn, and the enforced
promise of another visit, in which desire the inmates unanimously
joined, we left the building feeling profoundly grateful to God
for the Christian generosity which had enabled men of wisdom and
discretion to enter upon a work so humane, and Christ-like, and
difficult.
Difficult! Perhaps the most difficult upon which a man can enter,
and certainly the most difficult on which a man can write. And
yet silence on such a delicate subject, however appropriate, seems
almost criminal. To condemn, as some have done, those who fly
from so unsavoury a topic, as one studiously to be avoided, argues
rather a brutish judgment; it is simply to abuse that delicate
sensitiveness which is one of the charms of a pure and gentle mind.
That few care to mention the evil, and fewer still to discuss its
indelicate details is evidence, not of a disposition to tolerate it, but
of a desire not to become acquainted with the secrets of so intoler-
able a vice. While there may be some sad consequences arising
from ignoring the question, there would be infinitely worse evils as
the result of exposing it in all its ghastly organisations to the
innocent mind. So insidious a form of evil is not to be lightly
regarded, or a full knowledge of it to be desired. We are so per-
suaded that harm may be wrought by the suggestion of such a vice
to virtuous minds, that we have long hesitated to take up our pens
to advocate the reformation of its victims. We write the subject
most reluctantly because of its difficulties. But since the sin of
which we write is so increasing, and its victims in London are grow-
ing in numbers, and since the exertions which Christian philan
thropy should put forth are so imperatively necessary, and so inade-
quate, we venture in terms as delicate as the English vocabulary
will allow, to deal with the subject.
We do not care to quote statistics relative to the member of
abandoned females in the metropolis. Their number may almost be
said to be legion. Nor is it necessary for our purpose, which is to
show what is being done by willing workers to check the evil, and
HOMES WITH NO NAME.
37
to reclaim to virtue those who have fallen. There are several so-
cieties devoted to this good object, and it is not due to forgetfulness
of their respective claims, but to the small space at our disposal.
Nor shall we quote anything too sensational for belief; a report of
one society we notice, indulges rather too freely in statements
which are manifestly preposterous, with regard to the early age
at which children are led into ruin. The bare facts of the case are,
alas! sufficiently startling, without believing all that an excited
imagination might deem to be true. We may say that all the Lon-
don societies aim to effect the rescue of the soul as well as the body
of the sinful and the wayward women received into their homes,
so that their work is pre-eminently Christain.
The "homes" of the London Female Preventive and Reforma-
tory Institution owe their origin to the earnest efforts of the de-
ceased wife of present secretary, Mr.Thomas. In a very interesting
memoir of this good lady, we learn that prior to her marriage with
Mr. Thomas, and while labouring for the maintenance of the chil-
dren of her first marriage, "she resolved to dedicate some given por-
tions of her time and means to the especial service of God, and in
such a manner as should benefit the most unhappy and distressed of
her own sex. How far she succeeded in her design, not by her own
unaided efforts, but by enlisting the sympathy and support of
Christian friends who rallied round the cause inaugurated, may be
learnt from the fact that by the agency of the institutions with
which she was immediately connected, no less than three thousand
five hundred friendless and fallen females were rescued from their
hazardous and degrading positions."
In 1850, the public were shocked by learning the awful fact that
forty thousand women in London were gaining their living by vice.
Christian gentlemen banded themselves together, irrespective of
creed and denomination, to organise such means that might, with
God's bleessing, allay the evil. The existing penitentiaries were
good enough in their way, but it was felt that any new attempt
should assume a somewhat different character. The work should
be specially of a missionary nature. It was not enough to rescue
poor girls from moral degradation, the claims of Christianity must be
recognised, and a truly evangelical and evangelistic spirit must be
´infused into any new effort that might be made. Mrs. Thomas, in
-
38.
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
+
::
the spirit of her Master, sought out the poor fallen of the streets,
and notwithstanding her limited resources, gave those who were
anxious to reform, a shelter in her humble home, until the time
had arrived when a better asylum could be afforded them. Two
cases that came under her care were exceedingly hopeful; the young
women shared the provisions of her home, but declined firmly,
yet respectfully to enter a penitentiary. These cases were
constantly occurring. And why? Well, why do poor people
dislike a workhouse? And why do boys dislike a reformatory?
"
The conviction gained ground each day that reformation could not
be effected apart from certain modes of treatment. The sinners
must be treated with generous kindness, with Christian tenderness,
unpatronisingly, as fellow sinners, not as deeply degraded ones,
almost beyond the Saviour's pity. The gentlemen were puzzled how
to attain so desirable a consummation. It needed a woman's skill
and heart, and tact, and instinct. The woman was not wanting at
this crisis. Mrs. Thomas, writes Mr. Ireton, "grasped both the
principle and detail of a scheme which met all the requirements of
the case it was the establishment of Homes,' which should be
regulated after the true domestic English pattern, based upon sound
moral and religious principles; she further proposed that each one
should be under the care and control of a suitable person, who could
exercise a sound discretion in the treatment of each individual case."
The plan at once found favour with the gentlemen engaged in for-
warding the work, and was adopted, at first of necessity on a limited
scale, and Mrs. Thomas was appointed the matron. So successful
has this model been-a very simple one, it is true, but perfect in its
details that during the past eighteen years, upward of twenty
similar homes have been founded in the metropolis, in addition to
others in the provinces and abroad. The society was fully organised
in 1857. It was soon found that the work needed considerable tact
and discretion. Only look for a moment at the faces, at the stern,
resolute, obstinate, dare-devil appearance, of some of the walkers in
the streets, and ask yourself whether the task of their reformation
is not difficult! The new matron had her difficulties; but it was
just there where she was strong. If some stubborn girl had suc-
ceeded in causing discontent in the minds of the other inmates, and
a desire to return to the old habits, the matron would go and
2
:
HOMES WITH NO NAME.
39
dwell for a time in their midst; and her personal influences, and
sympathy, and considerateness soon won the hearts of the most
complaining. She recognised, indeed, a fact which must be con-
sidered in dealing with these cases-namely, that, however depraved
the victims of this sin may be, there is one principle which they
cannot resist. It is the principle of LOVE. "What!" I think, I
hear a reader exclaim, "love in such polluted creatures?" Here is
a case, told me by the secretary, which will illustrate our position.
One of the vilest women that ever came under his notice was proof
against all entreaty, all appeals, all warnings. She seemed more
like a resolute fiend than a woman. All moral feeling was gone,
irretrievably lost. Any number of English gentlemen would pro-
claim her case hopeless-and would regard her with dismay and
disgust. As for affection, it seemed stamped out of her nature;
she seemed incapable of loving either self or God. But was it so?
There was an old handsome cat hidden in the corner of her room
upon whom she lavished all her affectionate attentions. Of this cat
she was passionately fond. You might endeavour to converse with
ber upon any subject, but the conversation was sure to be interrupt-
ed by certain appreciatory remarks relative to "pussy." That was
apparently the only tender point in her character; and to succeed
in arousing her to a sense of her condition, it was necessary to do so
by expressing admiration for her favourite cat. Similar cases might
be adduced to prove that women, however fallen, must have some one
or something on which to bestow their shattered affections. The gentle
way in which even the commonest of this class will pat or stroke a
horse, or affectionately regard the misfortunes of a little child, or caress
a babe, is proof that to love is natural with every woman. Woe be to
the foul wretch who blasts that tenderness of feeling and quickness
of sensibility which elevate so nobly every innocent woman!
It is, above all things, necessary that those who seek to restore
the fallen should have large-heartedness, to enable them to deal
generously and affectionately with their pupils, and also great faith
in God. Without love, they will repel those whom they seek to
influence; without faith, they themselves will be speedily dis-
couraged. For the work of reformation is not effected in one day.
There are many things to unlearn, many evil thoughts, many old
· and ensnaring associations from which to break away. The old
40
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
paths of sin are fascinating even to those who have been cruelly
crushed therein. The old habits, even to those who have most
suffered from them, allure their victims to yet further ruin. The
process of unlearning-of discovering the real character of that
which appears so glittering, and the sad issues of that which is so
revolting—is painful. And in acquiring a taste for virtuous
pursuits, and a love for that which is good and true, there are many
things to learn which are not altogether easy of acquisition. A
very tender hand, and an affectionate, generous heart, and a self-
denying spirit, are needed for this work. Mr. Ireton's encomi-
astic picture of the late Mrs. Thomas's life graphically illustrates
"She had witnessed," he says, "the worn and
what we mean.
wasted form of what was once the masterpiece of God's creation
sink beneath the accumulated weight of pestilential disease, and
with a tender and a pitying hand had moistened, the parched lips
of the dying Magdalen. She had administered to the temporal
necessities of the poor dying one, but there was a deeper mine of
sorrow she could not touch, compared with which mere bodily pain
was soon forgotten. It was the loud and angry surges of the mind,
when in full contemplation was opened up before it the horrors of a
long life spent in the pursuit and propagation of woe. When, in
the fever of delirium, the memory gave up her dead, and all the
terrors of life's guilty past were lived over again, and as the soul
awakened to each new sensation of suffering, things long forgotten
re-appeared armed with new pangs. Terribly lengthened the nights
became as these scenes moved in slow and dreaded vision before the
guilty sufferer, threatening, like the floodings of an ocean, to over-
whelm the prostrate one in full despair. Slowly each succession,
arose, passed, and died away, like the marching of some mighty host,
until, in her last extremity, the poor wretched victim saw a sea of
upturned faces, and heard the sound of many tongues, like accusing
spirits, calling down the wrath of God. In broken and incoherent
tones were these sufferings told, nor told in vain. A faint glimmer-
ing, like the smallest streak of light in a darkened sky, alone lit up
with such
the midnight of scenes like these." Who will not say,
facts before them, that it is only Christian women of great faith
and generous love who can expect to be successful in tending to
such broken-down and broken-hearted women?
HOMES WITH NO NAME.
41
And what was the result of this loving attention? Was it pos-
sible with women whose finest emotions had been benumbed, if not
almost extinguished, by indulgence in a vice so dreadfully hardening,
that any change could work so great a miracle as to inspire the
heart with gratitude, love, and devotion? Many think such cases-
are hopeless, and some are tempted to brand all reformation as sheer
hypocrisy. But thank God, the fears of the timid and the sneers
of the ignorant are not always fulfilled. We learn that in the last
illness of Mrs. Thomas there was quite a pleasant competition as to
who should watch by night at her bedside; and it would appear
that nothing less than a system of taking their turns would satisfy
the claimants to this honour. And when she was buried a crowd
of weeping mourners, bitterly grieving over the loss of such a friend
they never had before-a friend better than some of their own
mothers—a friend such as some had never possessed since a mother's
death-testified in tones of anguish and sincerity to the love they
bore to the sinners' friend.
I have purposely lingered over the history of the founder of
these homes, because it illustrates points of importance in relation
to this blessed work of restoring the fallen which could not be
better described. Such persons as the founder of these homes.are
needed in every city or town where the wretched and forlorn
congregate; but such persons are rare.
Since a second article is needed fairly to deal with this subject, we
shall leave for the present the question of prevention, which enters so
largely into the operations of this society-a question so pressingly
important as to demand a separate article for its discussion. In no
evil is the old proverb, "Prevention is better than cure,” more true. It
is here where the first efforts of all Christians should be exerted; for
the helpless, the ignorant, the neglected, and the abused, should be
protected against the machinations of the destroyer, and the evils
that daily surround them.
Difficult as the work of the reclamation of the abandoned may be,
the reformatory institutions have been greatly useful in restoring
such persons to society. Were their funds larger, they might be
more successful; for hundreds of poor girls anxious to abandon
their evil courses cannot find an asylum in the homes. They are
already full; and this fact must greatly depress, if not altogether
3.
6
*
More formation on
12
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
ruin, the prospects of these poor creatures. As samples of the kind
of work which has been done, we will give a number of instances
selected from the reports of some of the principal societies.
stances.
While many trace their fall to their own tendency to evil-and it
would be foolish to shut our eyes to a fact so palpable-yet in a
very large number of cases, destitution has been the leading cause.
This destitution has been aggravated or caused by other circum-
It is rare indeed, to find a woman in poverty resorting
at once to immorality for her livelihood. The mind must either
have been corrupted, or the affections enslaved and perverted, or
the opportunities for sin so irresistible, that to decide for evil was
not difficult. Here is a case, however, which is not uncommon.
The girl who relates the story was not more than fifteen, and had
not therefore led a long life of depravity. Her father was a
plasterer, afflicted with rheumatics, and being frequently out of
work, was very poor.
She could neither read nor write. She did
not know her own age. As for a place of worship, she had never
been inside one. Her knowledge of Christ and of His gospel was
therefore nil. Her mother was a swearer, a drunkard, and a
brute. In the miserable room which served as an apology for
"home," there was no furniture save "an old bedstead and straw bed
for mother, one old table and some old chairs; me and my little sis-
ters laid on some straw in one corner.' "In the winter, "the girl
relates, "when father was out of work, I would go and pick up
chips and wood, and go on the cinderheaps and get the cinders.
and little bits of coal to make a fire. We never had but one meal
a day; it was no use asking for any more, we know'd we couldn't
have it ; mother would only hit us if she was drunk." The girl
added, "that when she obtained her first situation as a servant, she
had to go home to sleep late at night; and then I'd be very sleepy
in the morning, so as I couldn't wake; mother would throw water
on me and I'd have to get up then; but many's the time it's
been four o'clock, 'cause we hadn't a clock, so I had to walk about
till six ”—at which time she was expected to commence her morn-
ing's labours. After awhile she slept on a box in her "missus's
house and had one shilling a week, which her drunken mother
would try to get from her. Three years she stayed at this place,
but one day she went out with a companion for a holiday, dressed
>>
>>
HOMES WITH NO NAME.
43
1
in a new blue bonnet with a rose in it, and furnished with pocket
money. Alas her companion took her to one of those dancing
places that are the hot-beds of vice, and introduced her to some
young men with whom she was acquainted.
"I liked it very
much." she says, "but I kept asking about the time, but they
cheated me-told me it was only half-past ten when it was ever
so late. I went to missus in the morning, but she wouldn't have
me again. So the girl and I took a lodging at a coffee-house, my
clothes soon went, and then we were turned out. I used to sleep
on doorways, and once I seed my mother on a Sunday; she had a
dish of baked 'taters and a breast of mutton carrying home. I
was so hungry, and I asked her to give me some, but she wouldn't
give me one 'tater even." The day she entered the "House," she
had not a bit to eat for three days. Her story was found to
be true; her mother was all that she had represented her to be;
and the state of the room just it had been described. She is now a
domestic servant, in good position, and gives every, satisfaction.
Who can wonder that, in such cases of gross parental neglect,
where girls have been trained for sin, and have never heard loving
words, they should listen to the allurements of false affection, and
fall victims to honeyed speech? Upon whom can the burden of
their sin fall, but upon the parents who make these children
domesti drudges, and buffet them about, and brutally and coarse-
ly assail them ?
It must be remembered too, that in many instances girls
receive no education whatever, excepting what they may pick up
in the streets; and living in the midst of the vicious, they are trained
for evil courses. And life in the streets has a peculiar fascination
for those accustomed to it, which even moral reformation will not
conquer. A water-cress girl had been reclaimed, and after leaving
the "Home" was placed in a situation. "After years of privation
and discomfort, the kitchen must have been a palace to her, but
her wandering life had charms which no comforts could equal;
in a week or so she disappeared. Months passed, and her clear
voice was again heard singing her cry of fresh water cresses,' but
now she carried a small baby as well as her basket. She had mar-
ried a dustman! Often she sends poor fallen girls to the Home,
or gives them leave to sleep in a corner of her poor room, sharing
44
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
with them her hard-earned crust, and in her homely way
giving them the very best advice."
7
Illustrations might be given of the power of the gospel over the
lives of these girls. Such cases are the best evidence that could be
adduced in favour of the present methods of working adopted by
the societies. The question is sometimes asked, Are the conver-
sions real? Is the reformation permanent? Why not? If the
grace of God can convert-as it has done-depraved men, why not
depraved women? If it be possible permanently to reform rakes-
a task harder than the reformation of the other sex what is there
in the life and character of woman that is proof against the in-
fluences of morality? Some return after awhile to their vicious
courses, but at least seventy-five per cent. of the cases undertaken
by the societies turn out to be permanently good. Seven years
ago, a woman attended a midnight meeting, and was led to abandon
her old life. For two years she sought forgiveness, and ultimately
realised it; and for more than five years she has been a happy
wife, and a member of a Christian church. And in a letter to a
Christian lady, she breathes this aspiration:-"I long to love
my Saviour more, for he has done for me more than all my
earthly friends could or would have done. Jesus has brought me
out of a burden of sin and misery, and made me happy, and
fitted me for his blessed presence, that I may not only be with
him but like him, pure and holy." This communication is but a
sample of others received from time to time by those connected
with these excellent institutions.
CHAPTER V.
THE YOUNG MEN OF LONDON.
7
WHAT becomes of the large numbers of young men that annually
swarm to London? Do they all obtain the prize for which they
struggle? What is the history of those hopeful sons of pious parents
who quit the serenity of a country life for the external sensuousness
of a metropolitan career? Do they religiously attend to the last
parting injunction of their godly sires? Do they strengthen the
churches, overcrowd the temples, assist in the works of charity, or ·
THE YOUNG MEN OF LONDON.
45
forward the home missionary enterprises? Do they become studious,
thoughtful, earnest, holy-a standing protest against the sins of the
age, the evils surrounding them? Do they retain their native sim-
plicity, and exhibit to their neighbours the grandeur of a true and
honest life?
I confess to answer these questions makes one's heart ache, yet
answered they must be some day. We have been too reticent res-
pecting the almost universál departure from virtue and goodness
which the young men of this gay metropolis have so sadly shown.
And truth to tell, we do not know all the evils which infest them;
we involuntarily shrink from learning more than we already know of
the prevalence of wickedness. Yet a little enquiry made of com-
petent authorities would reveal that which, if known, would make
the ears of every Christian man in England to tingle with shame.
That enquiry ought to be made by the ministers-who have the best
opportunities for understanding human nature-and who, under God,
are best fitted to stem the torrent of pollution which rolls down the
abyss of Time like an infernal Niagara, irresistibly sweeping away
for ever every honest purpose and good intent formed in hours of
solitude and hope. I am not about to indicate what that enquiry
should be. But one may safely observe that the proportion of young
men who attain the ambition they seek is remarkably small; that
the history of their lives is not pleasant to think over; that they do
not continue to be susceptible to noble influences, nor do they
strengthen, but sometimes greatly weaken the churches.
A sad picture! Yes, very sad! And sad scenes have I seen of
ragged, diseased, and embrutalised men, who once came to London
with every prospect of prosperity, usefulness, and respectability.
Thieves' kitchens, and common lodging houses receive them, and
they soon become the demoralised occupants of a home common to
the vagrant and social outcast. Nor is the tale of the hospitals less
deplorable; and, alas! there are the unrecorded horrors of the
lunatic asylum.
The first steps in the sliding scale of wickedness are easily, some-
times unconsciously, taken. The attractions of the midnight streets,
of worldly society and pleasures, however soon become irresistible.
Yet a warning, friendly voice heard when conscience is quick and
tender, might turn the current of the stream. Young men are
46
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME,
impressible, are worth being impressed, and can easily impress others.
The great crying want of London is for godly young men of intellec-
tual competency, who know how to do battle judiciously and fear-
lessly with the evils which beset young men. The existing types of
ignorant street preachers, whatever may be their services in other
directions, are of no use for this purpose but to do immense mis-
chief.*
The mere bawler of fervent emptiness belongs to a past
generation, and his work, in London at least, is done. London wants
such preachers whose minds have been deeply imbued with the
doctrines of divine truth, whose ordinary acquirements have been
such as to warrant their teaching others-men of sterling, sound
sense, shrewd in practical matters, and ready to meet the ungodly
with heavenly wisdom. The question therefore arises, how are these
men to be produced? Some of them are earnest, loving souls,
whose society is devotion itself. They will speak; they should be
encouraged to do so; and if by means of catechumenical and Bible
classes they can be assisted in developing their natural abilities, or
if by means of elementary instruction they can be fitted to bear the
responsibilities of teaching their fellow-men, then in God's name let
the work be done. It should, however, be distinctly understood
that the exigencies of the present day require much more than a
mere superficial acquaintance with Biblical doctrine, argument and
criticism. The children of this world are wise in their generation,
and it is piteous to witness, as one frequently does, a poor brother
driven to the most ridiculous subterfuges in answering a street
opponent, when he might readily, had he been possessed of an ordin-
ary stock of Scriptural knowledge, have silenced his "knowing"
antagonist.
There are organisations in action at the Metropolitan Tabernacle
which have for their object the association of Christian young men
for purposes of evangelistic missionary labour, and also for instruc-
tion in the leading truths of Scripture. Of the class for the latter
purpose I have something to write on this occasion. Mr. Spurgeon,
it is well known, has a genuine sympathy with many points in
Presbyterian modes of working. Through some conversation he had
with Dr. Fletcher, he became impressed with the importance of
* These words may seem harsh, but harsh facts prove that illiterate street
preachers have done irreparable mischief to open air missionary operations. It
is only honesty and kindness to say as much.
THE YOUNG MEN OF LONDON.
47
((
having a class at New Park Street Chapel, for the study of the
Assembly's Shorter Catechism." A class of young men-there
were but three at first-was commenced under the direction of Mr.
Henry Hanks, one of the elders of the church. At first it assumed
the character of a Bible Class, having as one of its primary objects
the study of the Assembly's Catechism, without proofs, so that the
young men might be induced to search the Scriptures for suitable
passages to prove the truth of the answers given. Born under the
invigorating influence of Divine approbation, all the organisations
at the Tabernacle thrive vigorously. This daily progression or
continuous growth is the most marked feature of the College, of the
Evening Classes, of Mrs. Bartlett's and Mr. Hanks' classes.
The
members of the latter class soon grew in numbers, so that a large
room had to be obtained: this too was subsequently filled, so that
the landing and staircases were crowded. Best of all conversions
came. A holy spirit of enquiry was manifested. The doctrines of
grace were better understood and loved. Then came the exodus to
the Tabernacle, where the class meets in a room which, large as it
is, is now too small for the numbers that assemble every Sabbath
afternoon.
Half-past two! and here are a number of men, some young, others
middle-aged, with cheerful faces, recognising each other at the
chapel gates. They are all "brothers," and they feel the relationship
to be a close one. They take their positions around an elder, whose
business it is to hear them repeat the catechism. Some may think
it infra dig to do that which was a task to us in our boyhood. But
these brothers are impervious to shame when their souls and minds
are to be benefited. And so, raw and polished, young and old, poor
and respectable, all join in a common duty, and feel how good a thing
it is to understand, better than they have hitherto done, the mys-
teries of the gospel-kingdom.
It is three o'clock. The large room is comfortably filled. [There
are over two hundred names on the class-books.] The catechumenical
elder Mr. White-has performed his part, and waits for the Presi-
dent of the class to do his. Meanwhile the room is getting filled by
the members, who are mostly constant attendants at the Tabernacle.
There are not a few strangers, for some young men are inviting
all the shuffling street idlers in. Some of these strangers look
48
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
tr
uncommonly wretched, compared with the bright, cheerful smiling faces
of the "regulars." There is a little singing-and true, boisterous,
hearty singing it is too-then a short, pointed, earnest prayer mainly
for the conversion of the impenitent and careless, and a lesson fol-
lows. One or two young men engage in prayer. The appeals are
concise, impassioned, brotherly. Mr. White pleasantly announces
the question from the catechism for immediate answer. A young
man gets up and makes the necessary answers, not without blunder-
ing here and there; for a few weeks ago this good brother-
-a poor
labourer-scarcely knew his alphabet. Another follows and does.
the business thoroughly. Mr. Hanks then enquires whether some
one would state his experience as to the usefulness of the exercise.
"I will do so," emphatically replies one honest-looking man. "Before
I joined this class I knew but little of the doctrines of grace, but
now I understand them, and the learning of the catechism has been
much blessed to my soul." Up rises a second, and gives similar
testimony, and another and another-all blessing God for the oppor-
tunities afforded them, and rejoicing in the good effected by the
means so well put forth by the worthy President. Then the Divine
Word is read, a few earnest, faithful comments by Mr. Hanks follow,
and the members are invited to say what they think about the lesson
which has been given them. The subject was the deceit which
brought such serious consequences on Ananias and Sapphira (Acts V.)
Some of the comments were exceedingly pertinent and devotional,
others were grotesque and fanciful, but the practical duties of a
religious life were almost universally enforced. One good brother
saw in the lesson the importance of greater liberality in Christian
beneficence. He had thought about the subject during the past
week, and resolved to deny himself more than he had done for the
sake of assisting the College. Another young man thought the
awful lesson read should lead them to greater consecration of heart
and life to God. Another urged the wickedness of vainglory, illus-
trating his moral by an anecdote told with singular honesty. He
reckoned himself to be a good workman in his trade, and had fallen
into the habit of claiming superiority over his shopmates. The
sin in this he strongly condemned. You may smile, my dear sage,
so did I ; but these smaller details of daily pride are only unim-
portant because our consciences get corroded. But the great
•
THE YOUNG MEN OF LONDON.
19
argument was that hypocrisy-hiding part of the truth-was especially
detestable among Christian men. And while the concluding words
of prayer were being pronounced, a solemn feeling possessed the
soul, like unto those occasions when God speaks in the whirlwind
of warning, or the still small voice of entreaty. Well, thought the
writer, may we all be better men for this afternoon's study!
Concerning this class, I may say, that Mr. Hanks is the Pre-
sident, Mr. Bowker the Vice-President, and Mr. White is the
teacher of the Catechism. Three earnest men, therefore, join together
in a work which has a wide-spreading influence; and to use
an undying figure, they move round the centre planet with charm-
ing harmony of spirit; for when Christ is to be served, unity of
purpose is as "the music of the spheres.
"the music of the spheres." The same affectionate
feeling prevails among the members of the class, and practical proofs
of attachment have been given to the conductors of the meetings.
No institution, however, is largely valued at the Tabernacle unless
it assume a practical form. Every organisation must help the Pastor's
College, and right royally is that assistance given. Mr. Hanks.
informs me with feelings of satisfaction that the fund for the support
of the College for the last half-year amounted to £25, and there is
every prospect of a much larger sum at the half-year ending at
Christmas.
A large number of the class are now members of the church, and
in fact three or four join every month from its ranks. Several have
entered the College, and are now studying for the ministry, and
others are settled pastors. Of course a larger number devote them-
elves to active labour in the Sabbath or Ragged School, or other
branches of useful work; while some preaching stations are supplied
by young men who belong to the class.
A motto is given every Sabbath, and in many cases God has
savingly blessed it to those who have sought his face. There have
been some striking illustrations of the omnipotence of Divine
grace in the hearts of those who were "out of the way." A poor
labouring man was invited to the class one afternoon, and desirous
of not being observed, he sat in the corner of the room. An earnest
brother very fervently supplicated for an unusual blessing, especially
for the stray sheep. 'Yea, Lord," added he, “do bless the man in the
*corner, and save his sou The expression was simply intended to
(*
7
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
50
convey the desire that those who would not come to the light should
be brought to it; but it was strangely answered. The poor labour-
ing man thought the prayer was intended for himself, and he began
to weep and pray. He is now a child of God, and, having found
the "Light of the World," in his own humble way he endeavours
to bring others under the genial influence of the gospel.
(
CHAPTER VI.
YOUNG MEN AND EVANGELISTIC WORK IN LONDON.
The rash heroism of youth.-The pastor's College and London Churches.
-Mission work in St. Giles'.
MANHOOD has been recognised as the isthmus between the two
extremes of rashness and timidity. Youth forms the occasion of
many a solemn shake of the head: old age is the butt for the bit-
terest sarcasms of youth. Inexperience is the verdict of the aged
on the daring movements of youth; caution, or "old-fogyness,"
is the deliverance of youth on the prudence of age. Prudence, we
young men think, walks in silver slippers, and fears to tread pebbly
roads. Heroism walks trippingly over dangerous ruts, because its
shoes are of iron and brass. Prudence has the sugar-plums, com-
pliments, card baskets, ice-creams, tissue-like refinements, and lack-
adaisical joys of life. Heroism-being the condition of conflict of
the soul with some base thing-has to wear heavy buckram, 'cumb-
rous armour, and bear severe discipline. Prudence, at the instiga-
tion of sloth, has smothered many virtues at the birth. Rashness, so
termed, has nipped many voices in the bud. Timidity has turned
the scale in favour of weakness and insipidity. Courage has bearded
the lion in his den, and shouted the pean of victory; has taken up
the jawbone of an ass and has slain thousands, while Hesitation has
admired the as and become assimilated unto it. For fear of innova-
tion, men have slunk into disservice and obscurity; for fearlessness
of warring against the fashion of things that passeth away, men
have worked contradictions by displanting the old and re-planting
still older things on their site.
To my mind this development of youthful rashness, which is not
always, however, the result of a zeal proportionate to knowledge,
YOUNG MEN AND EVANGELISTIC WORK IN LONDON.
51
when condemned by old sages who mourn over the decadence of the
times, and long for the return of gilt coat-buttons, knee-breeches,
swallow-tails, and pigtails, that characterised their most venerable,
grave, and learned grandfathers, has in it a wealth of noble purpose
not to be ascertained by petty calculations. Mediocrity, I know,
may be gifted with complacent pride; and that pride may soon pro-
duce, if unchecked, a kind of mental hydrophobia which earthly
skill will never cure. But genius must possess a healthy measure
of self-trust; and inexperienced hardihood and overwhelming ambi-
tion, not selfish, in a good cause, may not settle down before
a dish of philosophical distinctions, but may prefer its meal of herbs
with all their bitterness. After all, heroism, as some American
author has observed in some essay only exceeded in dulness by
the paper you, my good-tempered reader, are trying to wade
through, is an obedience to the secret powerful impulses of a
man's character.
It was stated at the opening of the Grove Road Chapel by the
London Baptist Association in June, that were sixty new commodious
chapels erected in the east of London, they would not be too many
for the thousands who cannot, if they would, attend public worship.
Considering the awful spiritual destitution of this great metropolis,
we should thank God for any agency that may be put forward for
the promulgation of the gospel. If prudence does not approve of
every method of Christian service, necessity will do so. Respect-
ability shirks what faith and works perform. Lodging-house preach-
ing, open-air effort, and teaching in taverns and casinos may appear
strange to the world, which despises "the foolishness of preaching;"
but God has impressed his gracious blessing upon these rash enter-
prises. We live in an age when the god of this world is, by every
means, endeavouring to extend his kingdom. Christian men must
everywhere meet the great grim foe on his own grounds, and there
prepare for a vigorous encounter. All mutterings respecting the
injudiciousness of men who evangelise among the masses is beside the
mark: if it be not cowardly, it is unchristian. Wherever Christ
crucified is preached, faithfully and acceptably, we rejoice, and will
continue to do so, by whomsoever preached, in whatever way. The
young men have before them noble opportunities of doing much to
improve the religious condition of the people. Let the laymen come
52
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
forth, not apeing priestly functions, nor fearing sacramentarian.
frowns, but boldly, in the name of God, determined to preach the
Saviour of sinners to dying men.
The laymen, we say. As an instance of what they may do, by
God's grace, we propose briefly sketching the work of a young evan-
gelist in St. Giles'. One Sunday evening, in traversing through St.
Giles', we lighted upon a mission hall in King-steet. This street
was at the time overflowing with children, large numbers of whom
were playing at various youths' games. The street is inhabited by
poor people-labourers, shoemakers, costermongers, and artisans
generally. In a contiguous street, there are not less than one
thousand residents, who occupy not more than one room each family
It is in this neighbourhood that Mr. McCree labours, and no district.
in London is better cared for than St. Giles', by him and his numer-
ous able associates. The room, which will hold three hundred, is
badly situated, and we found it well filled. It is shockingly ven-
tilated-there is no through current, and the heat during the sum-
mer is as oppressive as the chilliness is disagreeable in the winter.
Overhead there is a schoolroom, which, we were told, will accommo-
date one hundred and fifty children. The roof is dilapidated, and
in wet weather the rain oozes through it. The hall is held on a
monthly tenancy, and the working expenses (£120 per annum) are
now entirely met by the weekly contributions of the regular wor-
shippers. An effort is being made to build a new hall to hold more
than twice the number of persons who now fill the present building ;
and an appeal has been made to the Christian public, which, it is
hoped, will meet with the required response. The congregation is
composed of working people and the poorest inhabitants of the dis-
trict, many of whom were miserably clad. Mr. G. Hatton is the
voluntary evangelist. Engaged in business during the week, he
somehow finds time to preach indoors and outdoors, to visit the sick,
preside at meetings, superintend various organisations, and go the
whole round of a pastor's multifarious duties. Of evidently a weak
frame, and indifferent health, he manifests considerable vigour of
mind and force of style. Impressive, enthusiastic, exciting, he
succeeds in arousing the most lethargic, and in rescuing many
who were dead in sins, and destitute of all manliness of conduct.
The service is conducted after the usual order, and a prayer-
YOUNG MEN AND EVANGELISTIC WORK IN LONDON
53
meeting, at which the majority remain, is merged into the preach-
ing service. We saw nothing sufficiently striking in the evening's
devotions to note; a solemnity of feeling and earnestness of purpose
prevailed, and showed the character of the work done through Mr.
Hatton's instrumentality.
The origin of this mission may be briefly and profitably sketched.
In January, 1860, a few young men, chiefly members of Bloomsbury
Chapel, organised a little society for relieving the poor of St. Giles',
each member contributing the small sum of fourpence a-week. There
was nothing remarkable in this effort: hundreds of Christian young
men have done as well, perhaps better; but the spirit in which the
work was done was of far more consequence. The visitation of the
sick and distressed was a golden opportunity for a golden work. The
Cross of Christ was uplifted in the meanest homes, and God's blessing
was manifestly felt. The society grew and extended, and became affili-
ated to the Church. A small room in Queen Street, Seven Dials,
which would hold seventy persons, was obtained. The difficulties at
the outset were provoking. Nothing but sanctified perseverance
would have contended for long against them.
Once, in a prayer
meeting in the vestry, while a good brother was supplicating divine
favours for the poor of the district, a hand was put though the
window at his back, and, grasping his whiskers, gave them certain
most vigorous pulls. At another time, troops of noisy children would
gallop up and down the passages, hooting with the deliberate inten-
tion of destroying the hopes of edification which the worshippers
inside may have had. There was an aperture through the window-
shutters, which incorrigible lads used as a mouth-piece for the convey-
ance of unmusical, if not execrable sounds, which vied only with
those blasts of a trombone with which Londoners are favoured when
their nerves are unusually sensitive through illness. A drunken
woman was once sent sprawling on the floor in the middle of the
room by mischievous lads outside. These, and other painfully ludi-
crous and disagreeable reminiscences of bygone difficulties, make one
laugh now, but they were no fitting subjects for joking then. With
all the discouragements that tried the evangelist's faith, God gave,
we are informed, "many distinct signs of his approbation, and the
church books of Bloomsbury Chapel could now testify to the fact
that many who came in to scoff, went home to pray, and commence
护
​54
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
the new life with a new heart." The remainder of the history of the
effort shall be given in Mr. Hatton's own words :—
It having become absolutely necessary to obtain a larger and
more suitable place to meet in, much prayer was offered for the
Lord's guidance. At this time, the Wesleyans, who had been rent-
ing a chapel in King Street, were compelled to give it up. Immediate
application was made to the landlord, and, with the kind assistance
of the Bloomsbury Chapel Domestic Mission Committee, we were
enabled to rent it for mission work. This building will hold about
three hundred persons, with a school-room above nearly as large.
Since the opening, in July, 1864, the congregations have gone on
steadily increasing, until now we find great difficulty in seating those
who regularly attend, and have several times been compelled to
close the doors, the building has been so uncomfortably packed.
Some few months since, the few who have been converted to God at
the hall, and have made the place their spiritual home, expressed a
strong desire to support their own cause entirely. Up to this time,
the rent and expenses had been paid by the Domestic Missionary
Committee at Bloomsbury Chapel. Their wish was complied with,
and the management of the hall is now in the hands of the Committee
of what we term the St. Giles' Christian Union, and is entirely a
self-supporting cause. The expenses, some £120 a-year, are met by
the weekly contributions of the regular worshippers. A Baptist
church has been formed, of which Mr. George Hatton was unani-
mously chosen the pastor. It already numbers ninety-two members,
and many others are waiting."
A few cases of interesting conversions have been given me; and I
select the following, again using Mr. Hatton's own words:
"A. R.-A young man, well known in St. Giles' for his daring
profligacy and siu, came into the Mission Hall with the intention of
disturbing the service. He was seen at the commencement of the
meeting smoking a pipe, and behaving in a most indecorous manner.
He was convinced of sin that night, and found the Saviour next
week, and is now one of the happiest and most consistent working
Christians we have.
“R. A. and Family.-When we first discovered these people, they
were dwelling in a miserable garret in St. Giles', and in a most de-
plorable condition. They were without food or firing, and had been so ·
YOUNG MEN AND EVANGELISTIC WORK IN LONDON.
55
for very many hours. The husband was a drunkard, and when in-
toxicated, nothing could restrain him. After attending to their
temporal wants, we were enabled to persuade them to come and hear
the gospel at the Mission Hall, and we have had the joy of seeing
the whole family (save one very little one) brought to Jesus-father,
mother, and there children. There is not now a more respectable
and happy family to be found in St. Giles'.
“M. D.—A poor, wandering, homeless girl, picked up, without a
friend, half-naked, hungry, ignorant, and dirty, and very, very far
from God. She was induced to come into the Mission Hall, and was
there truly converted to God. We were enabled entirely to support
her for a few weeks, until we could obtain for her a situation. She
was placed in the family of a kind, Christian lady, and has been doing
admirably well for the last twelve months. Her piety is unmistak-
able, and she is now held in esteem by all who know her. She fre-
quently sends a contribution for the funds from her salary.
"M. and S. G.—The Sunday afternoon visitors are in the habit of
going from door to door, to invite by printed invitation and otherwise,
to the service at the hall. Our friends referred to were both out when
the visitors called, and in consequence the invitation paper was pushed
under the door; on their return, the paper was, by some means,
swept into the grate, and not noticed until next day, when the wife
was clearing up the cinders. Her attention was attracted to the bill,
and she resolved to attend the next service. On the following Sun-
day evening, she was at the hall, and was converted to God the same
night. She then persuaded her husband to attend, and he has also
found the pearl of great price. The wondrous change wrought
is truly astounding to them. They are both members of
the church.
•
“W. E. B.---This man has received a first-class education, and he
has moved in a good position, but through improvidence and vice,
has been reduced to the court stratum. When we found him, he
was a collector of rags and bones, without a home or a friend.
He
•
has been induced to attend the mission hall, and he has now, to ùse
him own language, been brought to the sense of the truth."
In connection with this mission, there is lodging-house visitation,
open-air preaching, temperance meetings, tract distribution, children's
evening class, where some seventy poor girls learn to sew and make
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
56
their own clothes. The garments, when made, are sold at a mere trifle
to the parents of the children, and thus scores of little ones are clothed
in new apparel, instead of in old, worn-out dresses which are obtained
from second hand shops. There is also a free library, and a savings
bank, in which £150 a-year are deposited. Thus a good work is done,
not only for the religious, but also for the social improvement of the
destitute poor.
It is this kind of work which Christian young men may be able
to perform. In nearly every large town, there are districts of a similar
character requiring evangelisation. A little holy heroism may do won-
ders. Purposeless rashness—"cutting a dash," to use a fast expres-
sion-for- the sake of novelty, is despicable. But zeal based on
knowledge, heroism based on the purest religious instincts, force
governed by faith, perseverance accompanied with prayer, cannot
be expended in God's service without its results. A simple gospel,
simply preached in all simplicity, with a simple purpose, will do for
the wild wastes of spiritual deserts what has been done in our own
arid hearts-fructify the soul, and cause 't to blossom with virtues.
-
CHAPTER VII.
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON
Ir is Sunday morning. The bells are chiming. The City is quiet
even to melancholy. The haunts of the lords of business are desert-
ed, and seem to possess a mysterious spirit of solitariness. The few
straggling persons you meet with are not citizens. Most of them
are countrymen, who have just arrived by railway; you know them
by the dreaminess and general vagueness with which they look
around them-here, there, and everywhere, but the direction in
which they are journeying. To those accustomed to the City on
-business-days, a walk through it on a Sunday morning is as strange
as visiting some foreign land, the only knowledge of which you have
gathered by photographs and engravings. Here and there you dis-
cover to your surprise a post, a letter-box, a railing, an inscription,
or an antiquity or architectural object, of the existence of which
you were not cognizant, though you had passed the spot perhaps
twice a day for years. During the week, the crowds of businessmen
•
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.
57
F
who are running against each other, render it necessary for you
to be careful to look straight a-head. You are all anxiety to dis-
cover some friendly gaps by which you may emerge out of a chaos of
black coats, without being subjected to a blow in the stomach from
the elbows of some nervous man, whose business anxiety makes him
oblivious of all the comforts of his fellow men.
But the bells that are calling together the few people who attend
the City churches, are telling them of the obligations of the Day of
Rest. We are listlessly threading our way through certain streets
leading to a scene as exciting as noise and clamour and overcrowd-
ing can make it. We are now in Whitecross-street, Barbican-
a
long, somewhat narrow thoroughfare, which still continues to be the
street-market for the poor of the city. As you enter this street, you
hear a hum of voices; and the nearer you get, the louder and more
numerous the sounds grow. The shouting is not sufficiently loud to
break the tympanum of one's ears, but the hum and bustle, the
squeaking cries and burly sounds, mingled with the clatter of
crockery, and the testing of tin-utensils, produce a music which could
not be excelled, excepting perhaps in that distant age when the
confusion of tongues was created. Crowds of women whose dresses
hang around their persons like wet clothes on a drowned body, with
no bonnets on, their hair presenting the appearance of a tangled
skein of thread, which it would be simple madness to attempt to
unravel, and their faces revealing the owner's decided objection to
the intrusion of soap and water, are mingling with respectably at-
tired mechanics' wives, who, with the key hanging on one finger, and
a huge basket on one arm, are anxiously scanning the contents of
each seller's barrow, and counting the halfpence and six-penny pieces
which they have concealed in the palm of their hands. Interspersed
with this motley assembly may be seen the daughters and wives of
the costermongers who live in this locality, and whose vegetables
find their way into all parts of London. These girls have the bloom
of youth upon them, and some of them are-pardon the compliment
for its truth-enchantingly beautiful, a beauty, however, that fades
after a few years of out-door life. They are quiet in their behaviour,
shrewd in their dealings, smart in their answers, yet respectful
withal, and exceedingly friendly-disposed to all who recognize them.
They are true types of the coster-girls, clean, witty, business-like,
8
58
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
"J
affectionate, heroic, struggling, and smart; they do not wear bon-
nets, as a rule, for bonnets belong to the half-caste costers, yet cir-
cumstances sometimes demand that they should not altogether be
banished into higher circles of life. The costermonger himself is
scarcely visible among the mass of street dealers; and I understand
he leaves business in this street to the females, while he takes his
barrow into other and less supplied localities. But there is a large
class of men who lead a nomad life to be found in their places. These
fellows, most of whom are dirty, and consequently are an object of
dislike to the coster, who believes in cleanliness and despises dirt
and slatternly ways, are engaged in a variety of singular occupations.
They mostly live in the alleys of the neighbourhood, and many of
them make the goods they sell. By the side of a large open umbrella
turned inside up, filled with pictures, painted with all the colours of
the rainbow, and probably a few more, you may see a dealer in lin-
nets which he sells at twopence each. Stockings of all colours and
sizes are sold side by side with oranges, sage, and toys; while inter-
spersed are the coster-girls with vegetables, and Irish women with
trays containing assorted groups of onions, carrots, turnips and
parsley," potherbs" as they are called-which are disposed of at
a penny a lot. Butchers are shouting "buy, buy, buy; what will
yer buy?" while up in a side court is an old clothes mart, where
Then we
buyers are trying on coats and haggling about the terms.
have dealers in stationery, the sheets of which have a dusky tinge,
newspaper vendors, dealers in braces, which are suspended on a line
in the same way as those gold watches and chains are hung which
are given away for a penny." At a corner of one alley, we saw
a large barrow containing a number of putrescible rabbits, which
were marked up at 41d. and 6d. each! Of their appearance and
colour we need say nothing, but they were such as to make us
heartily pity the stomachs of the poor creatures who could eat them.
(C
Turning up one of the numerous alleys leading out of Whitecross
Street, we pierce our way through a miserable cobweb of courts and
avenues that are connected with the main thoroughfares known as
Old Street, Goswell Street, Barbican, &c. Most of the houses in
this warren are of the old "ramshackle" type so common to locali-
ties where the poorest of the poor reside. Some bear a decent ap-
pearance, and these are the homes of the costermonger; but a large
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.
59
proportion are so thickly built, and are so desolate-looking, that they
strike you at once as the resort of thieves, vagabonds, and social
outcasts. And so I find them to be. In one or two courts the
houses were built so closely together that the inhabitants of one
side might shake hands with those living on the opposite side. The
costermongers select those courts where there is a small space for
their barrows, and there are a number of squares, paved with the
roughest pebbles which were filled with barrows and covered with
vegetable refuse. In a small area there are about 10,000 adults and
4,500 children living in houses in which a family occupies every
room. A City Missionary has found that six houses contained
thirty-six families, and Playhouse-yard contained 180 families, out
of which not more than forty people attend the means of grace.
"I have called,” says this missionary, "upon 150 families before
I have found a member of a Christian church." A more neglected
district could not be found in London; and were it not for the
earnest work of some godly and devoted men, the spiritual condition
of this closely-packed and proverty-stricken neighbourhood would
be as sad and wretched as in the most degraded heathen lands.
One of the useful evangelists who has helped to bear away this
reproach is Mr. W. J. Orsman, a young man who, after the hours
of business, devotes his talents and time to voluntary evangelism.
Mr. Osman is an active member of Mr. Spurgeon's church. He
has also for some years past been honorary secretary to the Evan-
gelists' Association of the Metropolitan Tabernacle. He has had no
connection with the Pastor's College, and is to all intents and pur-
poses an evangelist, not a pastor. Yet he has a church, does pas-
toral work, and has much more of a pastor's cares than some would
probably like to bear. Our conviction is, that religious men may be
as interested and as stimulated to honest work as the author has
been by learning what a simple-hearted, earnest brother can do for
God, by devotedly laying out his abilities for the spiritual and social
benefit of what are considered to be "the unreachable masses."
Our story therefore will bear that moral.
Golden Lane runs out of Whitecross Street. It is a long, narrow
lane of old, squalid houses and shops, closed burying-grounds, with
one or two newly-built dwellings; and judging from the habits and
attire of the inhabitants of this misnamed street, we should no
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readily conclude that the colour of gold was known to them. In
one cellar-sort of shop where there were coals of all shapes and
kinds from a heap of gunpowder dust of strange black-grey-
whitey hue to a more reasonable burning size-I saw a grimy old
woman, whose appearance approached the typical witches of Mac-
beth. With arms a-kimbo she was endeavouring to look pleasantly-
fierce at us in return for our friendly glances; but the latter half of
that discriptive compound word more accurately explains the result
than any other I could choose. Most of the other shops are of the
same begrimed character; they are devoted to the sale of almost
every conceivable object, and the windows are well stored with a
variety of articles about as miscellaneous in character as those
found in Aunt Chloe's pockets.
In Golden Lane, a Swiss gentleman, a merchant in Wood Street,
Mr. Augustus Viewig, and member of Mr. Spurgeon's church, has,
with a liberality and spirit of enterprise worthy of the highest com-
mendation, erected improved dwellings, baths and laundries for the
labouring classes. In the rear of this building is another block, de-
voted to the same purposes, but possessing in addition a comfortable
chapel. This hall is let at a nominal rental to Mr. Orsman, and is
used for public services, as a free ragged school, and for other reli-
gious and benevolent purposes. A more comfortable room for special
services to the poor can scarcely be found. It will hold between 400
and 500 persons; it has a commodious platform, a gallery all round,
and at the end and under the gallery is the school-room, which is far
too small for the children who listen on Sundays and week-days to
the instruction given them. Two day school teachers are supported,
and Mr. Orsman is also responsible for the payment of gas and
other incidental expenses. A committee of gentlemen occassionally
assist him by their advice, and very warm sympathy is manifested
toward the work by Mr. Viewig*. The building was erected in
1864, but the mission was commenced in 1862, when Mr. Viewig
invited Mr. Orsman to conduct some services in a room on the
ground floor of a model lodging house.he had built in Bell Alley,
Goswell Street. For two years Mr. Orsman conducted services in
the open air and in the little room, visited the families in the adja-
*The buildings erected by Mr. Viewig have passed into the hands of a company
in which Mr. V. holds £15,000 worth of shares, and takes a part in the direc-
torship.
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.
61
cent courts, and for a long time was sole teacher in the Sunday-
school he established. The work was, perhaps, sufficiently discourag-
ing at first to drive away a man of less faith in God and devoted-
ness and perseverance, but Mr. Orsman was not the man to give
up a good work. He was soon blessed with conversions ; two Mora-
vian ladies proffered their assistance, and the services and schools
were well attended. The court was at that time in a worse condi-
tion than it is now, and delicacy would revolt at any truthful des-
cription of the sins and practices of the place. Thieves, prostitutes,
blackguards of every degree of wickedness, tramps and vagrants
found this court a suitable rendezvous. Piles of vegetables invariably
lay in various parts of the roadway waiting their turn to be trimmed,
and everywhere fast decaying refuse vegetable matter was to be seen
filling the air with ill odours and desease. Very little attention was
paid to the "tachers," as they were called, at first; and, indeed, they
were looked upon as curiosities of civilization, who required the
infliction of a few pratical jokes to bring them to understand the
conventionalities of ordinary life. The door of the room was some-
times burst upon, and a gang of lads would come tumbling in one
over the other, creating dismay and confusion amongst those assem-
bled inside; at other times a few crackers were considered to be best
fitted to keep the congregations awake, and failing that, a sort of
hoarse music was produced from old tin kettles, and other worn-out
articles of domestic ironmongery. With all these and other impedi-
ments the good work went on, and the "tachers" could hardly be
treated with greater respect than they are now.
The mission has since been the means of doing much good in the
neighbourhood, and the conversions have been sufficiently numerous
to be a great encouragement to perseverance. The congregation
is constantly changing, owing partly to the precarions nature of
their employment, partly to the fact that whenever they can, con-
verted men quit their old haunts and live in more decent dwellings,
and partly in consequence of their joining other churches. Many
are rejoicing in hope of heaven who have found the Saviour in the
Evangelist's Taberancle, and Mr. Orsman assures me that a heartier
or more loving congregation cannot be found anywhere. One of the
deacons was a costermonger at the time of his conversion; the
+
62
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·
bell-ringer is a coster, and I am informed that among Mr. O.'s a blest
assistants at the special meetings is one who was a costermonger, but
who has recently "gone into the fried fish line." About forty meet
around the Lord's table on the first Sunday evening in the month,
and it would seem that so rigid is the abstinence of
some, who doubtless have suffered much before conversion from
over-indulgence, that to meet their scruples unfermented wine
is used.
/
On the Sabbath morning, prior to the service in the Taberancle, a
number of earnest helpers hold an open air service in the centre of
Whitecross Street, and not withstanding the hubbub around them,
they manage to secure a respectable audience. Then the brethren
file off to the Taberancle and hold a prayer-meeting; after which
the morning service commences. The audience in the morning is
far from being a large one; perhaps 150 persons attend. The men
are either at home or with their wives shopping, and the costers-
those of course who are mere hearers and not doers of the word-
are out selling their goods.* In the afternoon there is a Bible-class,
while one of the deacons conducts the Sunday-school, in which there
are fourteen teachers, who, with one exception, have sprung out of
the congregation. The evening meeting is the most interesting one.
A large bell on the top of the buildings brings together those who,
but for the bell, would not know the time of the day or of the ser-
vice. The service is preceded by a short prayer-meeting held by a
number of persons who spend the evening in visiting the tramps
and thieves in the lodging-houses, to whom they preach the Word
of Life. These men are members of the church, and although
scarcely able to read, they yet manage to gain the attention of the
vilest scum of the district. One of these visitors fluently con-
verses on religious topics and speaks with considerable skill to the
vulgarest outcasts, and yet he is unable to read his Bible, and has
to depend on his tolerably good memory for all the aids so necessary
in evangelistic work. The thieves abounding in this neighbourhood,
infesting the public-houses, sleeping in the commonest of lodging-
*It is a great difficulty in all similar neighbourhoods to get a good congre-
gation in the morning. There is a mission hall within a stone's throw from
Mr. Orsman's chapel, conducted by some of Mr. Samuel Morley's employes, and
the attendance there is far from being as good as in the evening.
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.
63
houses, or in the maze of courts in which the mission hall is situ-
ated, where they are comparatively free from the unpleasant visits
of the police, have attentively listened to the band of workers, aud
God has been pleased to manifest his approbation of the efforts put
forth by this unpolished machinery.
By seven o'clock the chapel becomes filled with a motley congrega-
tion. Numbers are of the poorest class, and some of the women,
with their haggard, deep-furrowed countenances, careless, shabby
attire, and poverty-stricken appearance, show too plainly the des-
titution to which they have been brought. On the whole, however,
there is a look of tidiness and respectability which could hardly
have been expected from people living in so degraded a district.
Prior to giving out the opening hymn the well-known "Sanctus" is
spontaneously sung to the lead of the harmonium-an instrument
which is well appreciated by the people—and the rendering was both
solemn and effective. The singing throughout was good; the female
voices strong, but not unmusical. The men's—well, they always
do their best, and if they are sometimes noisy, their earnest-
ness covers the fault arising solely from a want of musical
taste.
Mr. Orsman's addresses are simple, earnest, manly, and straight-
forward. He eschews all clap-trap, and carefully avoids all oratori-
cal vapouring and sawing the air with his arms, believing, as he
does, that the real devils he has to fight against are lodged in more
dangerous and secret places than in the atmosphere which bis con-
gregation breathes. He keeps to his subject, remembers his aim in
all he says. and brings into service the stray thoughts gathered amid
the associations of the previous week. Poetical fancies he does
not seem to indulge in, and evidently he prefers the magnificent
beauty which gilds the promises of the gospel to the bright corus-
cations of the sublimest poet. To his mind, everything connected
with his work assumes a practical shape. Sin with him is a tangible
evil; hell is a reality; eternal death is no fancy. Repentance to be
true must lead to practical fruits; conversion and holiness are
matters of everyday experience. Hence Mr. Orsman's people do
not understand a Sunday religion which has no week-day obliga-
tions; and with them it is as much a duty to attend the house
of God in the prayer-meeting as ou preaching occasions. And
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
ark
Mr. Orsman himself works on this principle,* for his activity is un-
ceasing. Schools to look after, both ragged and Sunday, Bible class-
es, savings banks, temperance societies, sick-fund, lodging-house
visitation, preaching, &c., &c.; all this entails an amount of work
upon a young man, who has also to earn his living, that could not
be done unless God were truly with him. The poor people appre-
ciate his labours, and indeed are so thoroughly accustomed to a
preacher who is far superior mentally to themselves, that they mani-
fest decided opposition to uneducated jargon and vapid talk. They
want simple practical preaching, without the flowers of rhetoric,
or the top-lofty flights of a giddy imagination, and in their pastor
they have all they require.
Affer the service a prayer-meeting is held, and generally there are
over 100 persons present. This meeting will extend frequently to
two hours; for the poor have wretched homes to go to, and prefer
the solemn hour of prayer, where they obtain comfort in their
distress, and joy in their God, to gossiping away the remainder of
the evening. Not that they are not gossips;-who ever heard of
a woman that was worth much who did not "gossip a bit?"—but
their conversation is often a worthy type of what godly women
should aim at.
<<
But to the costermongers again. You may see them by the score
in groups, varying in numbers all the Sunday afternoon, playing at
pitch and toss,” or at other games, in which money may be won or
lost. The rest of the day is spent at the public house; so that the
habits of this class of men are such as to render it difficult to attract
them to a place of worship. Yet there is a sort of feeling among
them, that religion may be a good thing; but then they tell you, “It's
nothing in my line, sir." "It don't do for the likes of us poor
people." "We ain't got no time to think on them things."
"Wot's
the use on it all to us?" and so on. The coster is of a practical mind,
and he resolves everything into business. "What do the costers think
* At the risk of being stigmatized as a revealer of secrets, I venture to state
here that about twelve months ago Mr. O. had £ 40 in the bank, and thinking
it was lying idle, he bought a printing press and stock of types with it. He
now prints his own bills, circulars, cards of invitation, &c., and is actually
getting up a Hymn-book to consist of 500 hymns, which he purposes selling to
his people at One Penny. So that a large sum is thus saved yearly by this
devoted act. I have seen this printing stock. I may be gushing, but I think
such practical devotedness as this deserves a much higher eulogium than I can
dare to give.
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.
65
of a future world?" I asked of a converted coster. "Why, sir," he
sadly answered, "nothing, only that they will be turned into cabbage-
heads.” “Will it pay?" is a frequent answer, and whilst they weigh
the profitableness of godliness by £ s. d., they are content to remain
in darkness. You cannot tell them religion will bring them even
the same income as irreligion does, because costers make a good
profit-often the best during the week-of their Sunday trade; and
they must give up cheating, in which they are as a class so notori-
ously clever. A costermonger, when he turns to God, has frequent-
ly to give up his daily calling, and several that I have met with
have become bricklayers, labourers, earning miserable pittances
rather than obtain great profits by inconsistency. He is a manly
fellow, and knows that to be religious he must be consistent in his
daily life. I do not know of any class of roughs who would be nobler
soldiers of the Cross than these men.
The coster is in his way a happy man ; with his pipe in his mouth,
his dog at his side-very affectionate is he to his dog-and a spirit
of independence within him, he can defy every one to render him ill-
tempered but the policeman. To the coster the police are worse
than a nuisance; they are the cause of his being rude, and saucy,
and ill-tempered, and there are but few sins to which the coster is
addicted but what he believes he is "egged on" to by the "bobby."
And sometimes, I am told, the police do treat the poor fellows
shamefully; and as they are obliged to submit, or have their street
business privileges greatly curtailed, the coster satisfies his boiling
rage by hissing out words that are too sulphureous to mention. Three
times in his life the coster attends a place of worship: 1st. To be
christened a solemn obligation with some of them, to which they
attach the greatest importance; for unless they have been chris-
tened, Mr. Puseyite declines to interest himself in their behalf when
ill, or cracked-up." 2nd. To be married—¿. e. with those who are
married, for the majority do not enter into any such legal contract.
3rd. To accompany his wife at churching a religious duty with some
who believe that an entrance into church three times during their
lives will guarantee their entrance into heaven-if there be such a
place.
The coster knows what it is to quarrel with the "missus,"
and alack! he is not sufficiently manly to understand how discredit-
able it is to colour his wife's eyes. Mr. Orsman has frequently to
(C
9
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THE ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
become the arbiter in family disputes among them; but how he
manages to interpose without receiving a discoloured nose is beyond
the comprehension of the writer. His advice is sometimes sought
as to business-matters, and he has been able to aid some in getting
legally married who had been living as man and wife perhaps for
years.
Most of the costermongers of Golden Lane buy up the refuse of
the London markets at a low figure, and retail them in the streets.
Vegetables are mostly sold by them, but their last resort is to sell
fish, crockery, and chumps of wood. The coster is a man of
monarchical principles, and believes in might as well as right. There
is a Prince of the costers, who sometimes attends the Mission Hall,*
and he is generally called "Crockery Jack." He is a ringleader in
wickedness, and a thorough drunkard. He and his young wife were
fond of drink; and both might have been seen drunk in the streets,
the man alternately beating his wife and selling his wares. Drink
brought this woman, who was naturally consumptive, to the grave,
but death did not take its captive before she found a Saviour. At
first, Mr. Orsman tells me, she was callous and indifferent to earnest
entreaty, but on one occasion, after prayer had been offered, the poor
creature burst into tears, and begged Mr. O. to remain with her
until she died. Her husband was by the bedside drunk, and sobbing
like a child. Special prayer was offered up at the Mission Hall, and
in the evening of this Sabbath some sign of spiritual perception.
appeared. Her husband was still drunk. On Monday, sundry little
much-needed comforts were supplied, and subsequent visits confirm-
ed the belief that the Lord of all hearts had taken possession of this
one. On Wednesday she died. For a time, the husband seemed
subdued in spirits, but he ultimately returned to his old vices. Yet
he manifests his gratitude to the preacher and attends the congrega-
tion, and the heart's desire of many is that he may be saved.
A very curious group of helpers are associated with Mr. Orsman.
There are two converted thieves-men not of forbidding, but of
genial aspect-a cheap Jack, who can relate an experience of some
yards' length of printed matter, a play-actor, an intelligent newsboy,
and some sweeps, or as they style themselves, "chummies." These
gentlemen are of considerable service in the open air, where their
voices are heard to better advantage than within doors. Whenever
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.
67
they address an indoor meeting they are greeted by their former
companions with rounds of applause, and in the streets they əлe
recognised and saluted in a most friendly and jovial manner. These
men are possessed of strong common sense, and some of their speeches
sparkle with golden thoughts. One of the converted sweeps is
a very hearty worker; and he seldom sweeps a chimney without talk-
ing to the servant girls about the love of Jesus. It need hardly
be said that he introduces his topic in a variety of strategic
ways. On one occasion he asked why the Lord didn't give him more
money if he loved him so well as he represented; and his reply was
ready in a moment-"'Cos the Lord knows I couldn't keep it if I
bad more; so he only gives me as much as I can usefully spend.”
Really that would be a capital state of mind for some money-grubbing
Christians, who think more of getting wealth than of serving their
Master. The sweep's history is exceedingly interesting, although
it is impossible to relate it in his own free racy language. He tells
us, "I'm no preacher; I've not bin to college; but I've bin to the
Lord Jesus, and he's saved my soul. I'm out of hell, and in the
way to heaven."
This he says in a quiet, earnest way, with a smile
on his half-grimy face; and so far from indulging in oratorical effect,
he invariably keeps his hands in his coat pockets. He gravely
adds—“ When a boy, I had to climb chimneys; I stuck up once,
and if my father hadn't pulled me out alive, I should have
gone to hell. Another time he was nearly "drownded." The
speaker has evidently a profound contempt for the devil, whom he
stigmatises as a great coward." Yet he fears his Satanic Majesty
greatly, for he tells you, "he has such crafty ways." When he was
twelve years old he was imprisoned in the House of Correction for
stealing some wood, but judging from his story, he was more sinned
against than sinning. When he got out of gaol the devil tried to
tempt him to sin again. "Oh, yes! my friends, the devil is allays
ready to shove you down in the mud when he thinks you is weak.
The devil is the biggest coward in the world." But though he was
weak in himself, his Father had "promised to take him in hand."
"The devil is fond of trying to kidnap the Lord's children on the
sly but Jesus is a match for him." The good fellow is quite at
home in depicting the glories of heaven, and his analogies are of a
. somewhat sooty character. "I sweeps chimneys now ; but in heaven
•
CC
Ada
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
there is no chimneys; I shan't have these black clothes-no, I shall
have a white surplice." The idea of a black sweep wearing a
white surplice provokes a broad grin; but we know that the black-
est sinners will be clothed in white before the throne of God and
the Lamb. He tries to simplify the gospel in an ingenious way.
Once he wanted to show that Jesus Christ was the only way-that
he was the door to salvation, and he spontaneously illustrated it by
saying, "Now, friends, when you come in this chapel, you had to
come in by the door." His sentences are short, and generally he is
curiously discursive. "Now, mates, you want to go to heaven; I'll
tell you how to get there: trust in JesusChrist; he'll never forsake
you. He ain't like earthly friends when you get down in the valley.
I, a poor chummy, am glad to wash my face when my day's work is
done, but how much better to have Christ to wash your black soul!”
He knows how to use keen-edged satire ; for instance, in speaking of
the returning prodigal, he remarked, "Giant Despair goes into an
awful fit when Christ shines in the heart." He is a strong believer
in final perseverance, but he is equally strong in his convictions as to
working out his own salvation with fear and trembling. “How do
you know you are going to heaven?' sez my old chums. 'Well,' sez I,
how do you know whether you've got sugar in your tea?'". -an
invincible argument to all who possess the faculty of tasting.
In the Freeman, of January 11, there appeared the story of a con-
verted thief, who confesses he has been in every prison in London.
He was converted by means of a lad who was addressing a congre-
gation five years ago in Victoria Theatre.
((
A converted wood-chopper divides his time between Mr. Orsman
and Mr. Sawday, of Pentonville. He speaks in a disconnected man
ner, but his entangled sentences are worthy of being unravelled.
Perhaps you're thinking we're paid for preaching; so we are, but
not in the wages of sin-no, it is eternal life we get, the gift of God.
We don't boast of our badness because it is pleasant, but because it
honours Christ. If you doubt the power of God see it in me; it has
made me a good father, a loving husband, and a praying man! The
grace of God has made me open my room for a prayer-meeting and
myself a preacher." A converted costermonger, of Whitecross Street,
has about the same tale to tell. Prior to his conversion he was in
the habit of spending his Sundays in bird-catching in Hornsey; now
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON..
69
<<
"No use to
answer.
he preaches in the streets. One Sunday he was standing in Club
Row, when an open-air preacher offered him a tract:
me, guv'nor." Why?" "'Cos I can't read -a very reasonable
But the preacher told him of the Saviour of sinners, and
he felt the operation of the Holy Spirit upon his heart. He went
home and determined to go to chapel in the evening. His wife, who
is an ungodly woman, and still leads him a sad life, manifested
strong jealous feelings when she saw him dress so scrupulously, and
she accompanied him to chapel. He found rest in Christ that night.
A converted thief, who has applied to Mr. Orsman for member-
ship, and whose wife has recently shown signs of a changed life, thus
relates his strange experience: "I'm werry glad to be here and sing
with you.
I was one of the worst of thieves thirteen years ago; I
added to my other sins by robbing my own father. I was werry
fond o' tossing at the water side, and to get money I nibbled some
coal off the barges, but, like the mouses, I nibbled once too often,
and was caught. Had thirteen weeks in prison for that. When I
came out my old mates were arter me, for they know'd I'd saved
some tin. I got in again and again, for I kept close to the devil's
heels. At last I heard an open-air preacher on Clerkenwell-green.
I was tossing, as usual, but the Lord saved my soul, and now I work
for Christ when my day's portering is over. I'm so happy, I'm
always singing day and night, and even in my sleep. Now I preaches
in the same street I lives in, and I want all my friends to be saved."
There is one curious custom largely prevailing among costermongers
which is not generally known. On Sunday they are in the habit of
singing one finch against another for money. A certain singular
note comes out in a certain number of vibrations, and the finch that
gives the most of these notes within a fixed number of minutes is
the victor. Costermongers are exquisite bird-fanciers, and they
tramp to a forest and frequently catch thirty birds each on a Sabbath
morning.
The Sunday-school work is in a prosperous condition, but it is
impossible to accommodate more than the 150 children who attend ;
if Mr. Orsman had a building which would accommodate a thousand
more, he is convinced the scholars would come. It is not easy work
to win the attention of such children; but the difficulty has not
been so great as in many cases. The day ragged-school is
>>
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
superintended by a most effective lady teacher, who supports herself
in this way, and whose interest in the work is not to be measured
by pecuniary considerations.
}
The children meet their teachers on Monday evening for industrial
purposes, and it is a pleasant sight to observe them making door-
mats and patchwork quilts, &c., and to hear them sing little hymns
and temperance ditties. One lad was engaged in making himself a
pair of trousers.
The spiritual good which Mr. Orsman's work has been the means
of effecting is wonderful. Lives that were spent in unholy purposes,
in lust and drunkenness, have been, by God's grace, transformed
into lives of purity and Christian devotedness. In many cases the
most notorious sinners prove to be the most exemplary Christians-
men and women whose delight is in God, and whose hearts are in
His service. Considering the singular difficulties attending Mr.
Orsman's work, it is really surprising that so much good has been done.
The crass ignorance is fearful to look upon; the utter want of per-
ception of spiritual things is so great that it is a work requiring
both skill and persistency to make many of these poor creatures
understand the simplest of all elementary religious truths.
Cattle-drovers are especially difficult to get at, for they generally
work all Sunday night and indulge in slumbers during the whole
day. The sandwich men, who carry notice-boards both behind and
before them, are obliged to walk in the sloppy gutters, and they are
consequently frequently ill and unable to attend any place of wor-
ship. These poor fellows are ill-paid-some getting 1s. 6d. and
others 28. per day. Then the costermongers have both crotchets
and a supreme contempt for religion, so they have to be caught with
guile. One youthful coster of some intelligence refused to attend
the Mission Hall till he could understand how there were
Gods and yet only one. It wasn't business-like," argued the youth-
ful fellow, for he doubtless chuckled at the thought that when he
had three sovereigns they were reckoned to be of more value than
one. One of his companions argued with him for one hour, but
without enlightening his mind. Mr. Orsman tried to prove the
doctrine of the Trinity from Scripture, but that wasn't "business-
like." He therefore selected several objects from nature by way of
illustration, and only succeeded when he took a lighted candle and
"Three
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.
71
showed him that though the candle had grease, a wick, and a light,
yet it was but one candle.
Some of the cases I have listened to are exceedingly curious. A
woman, whose husband had been recently converted, went to Mr.
Orsman and stated that her partner had positively declared he had
found peace with God, and was certain of heaven. She said she had
been a member of a church for fourteen years, and she could not say
that, and nobody ought to say it, for it was awfully "resumptuous."
This poor woman was subsequently convinced that she had only
been a formal professor, and it pleased the Lord to change her heart.
One case highly amused us. A widow professed to constantly
attend ALL the places of worship in the locality, and whenever there
was a chance of obtaining a combination of spiritual with temporal
food, she certainly presented herself as a candidate for both. In due
time she was married to a costermonger, and she became most
anxious that he should reap the temporal benefits which she had so
long enjoyed in consequence of her religious behaviour. As a means
to this end she introduced her husband to Mr. Orsman, so that he
might be lectured, for "he's such a bad fellow." Jack immediately
repudiated the base "insinivation" by replying, "No, I aint." Mr.
Orsman enquired whether Jack believed he was a sinner at all, and
he replied by asking, "How do yer make that out, guv'nor? I
doesn't swear much nor get drunk-leastways not much-and as for
beating the missus, I've only given her one black eye, and then she
aggrawated me to it." The bride finding that matters were going
contrary, whispered to her husband, accompanying her advice with
sundry suggestive nudges, "why don't yer tell the good genelman
you're a sinner, eh, Jack?" Mr. Orsman tried to explain to the
poor fellow what it was to be a sinner, but Jack wouldn't see it at
all. "Excuse me, guv'nor," said he, "but I'll tell you why I aint
religious 'cos I'm a coster, and 'ave to work on Sunday. Next,
'cos, if I wasn't to humour the old gals who buys, and tell a lot of
lies to them, I shouldn't bring home a empty barra. And then
what's the use of it? Why, what would a coster do without his
'baccy and drink, penny-gaff, and Sunday trade? Why, Sir, it can't
be done. Look at my missus, she aint no better nor I, though she
goes round to all the preaching places." At this the wife, who had
grown ill-tempered, interfered, and all further conversation was
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
stopped by her constant iteration of "Yer know you're a sinner,
Jack; why don't yer tell the genelman so?"
Converted costermongers are invariably most earnest in doing
good. A poor woman told me, with tears in her eyes, how nobly
she had been helped when in distress by Mr. Orsman's coster deacon;
and there are many such cases which are never known to any but
the parties themselves. They are equally in earnest in bringing
souls to the Saviour. Sometimes they will give away tracts while
selling their vegetables. One costermonger is in the habit occasion-
ally of inserting small tracts in his cabbages; and on one occasion
a woman was converted by this means, and she always thanks God
that ever she bought greens of this good man. A wood-chopper
follows the same plan. One day a little girl ran up to him, and
said, "Please, sir, will you let father have a bundle of wood with a
tract in it?" "What do you want the tract for ?" asked the wood-
chopper. "'Cos," answered the girl, "the one you put in afore has
made father such a happy. man, and he doesn't get drunk nor beat
mother now, and please father thinks another tract will do mother
good too."
Mr. Orsman has in his congregation two old ladies-crossing-
sweepers in Old-street
in Old-street—a poor idiotic man who attends regularly, and
a number of homeless people. The other Sunday, at the enquirers'
meeting, eight females engaged in prayer, three of them costerwomen
who had lately been converted-one of whom works for her
husband "'cos he's lost his woice." Many of these poor women are
sadly persecuted in consequence of their wives to refuse to indulge
in their old vicious courses. Most of them manifest the greatest
possible interest in everything connected with the mission, and are
so attached to the chapel that no service is too long for them;
indeed many linger singing till the last gas-burner is about to be
extinguished.
▸
The following letter from a country town was received a short
time ago by Mr. Orsman: it is from a mechanic who enclosed one
shilling in postage stamps :-
"Dear Sir,-Pleas acept the in Closed for your nobel institution from one
that as walked the strets and aleys in golden lane beare foot and homeless i was
born on the spot and livid a few years my pearrants lay their i have bean
away 30 years but have not forgot the place. Pleas acknolig by return i am.
yours," &c.
THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.
73
Although many of the people attending the Evangelists' Tarbenacle
have been rescued from the lowest depths of vice, yet the work of
grace has in most cases been singularly gentle. There have been
few so-called thrilling conversions. There has been a lapse of time
between conviction and conversion; between the two great stages
of Christian experience, the soul-agony of despair and destraction.
and the tender rejoiceful dawn of peace and unruffled calm. One
man had a companion in the brewery close by the building, who
He
was suddenly killed through the escape of carbonic acid gas.
assisted in taking his companion home, but the sight of the dead
man's white face and the touch cf his cold hand ever haunted him.
He became dejected in spirit; his rest at night was disturbed; he
felt he was unprepared to meet death; he remembered Mr. Orsman's
address on the previous Sabbath, and his agony of mind increased
until it became unendurable. He made resolutions, but they were
of no use in quieting his conscience until he cast himself into Christ's
dear arms, and found the peace that cannot be measured by the
grandest earthly bliss.
A very remarkable instance I will give as an illustration, which
Sunday-school teachers may use to advantage. A little child lay
dead in a certain room; the disease being the measles. The elder
child was sent away for a few days to a friend's house, but hearing
her little sister was dead she secretly made her way to her mother's
home. The door was open and she went in. The mother was
engaged in the next house; but when she returned the little one had
removed the coffin-lid, and was kneeling and praying by the side of
the dead body. The mother listened to the child's prayer, which was
something like this: "Gentle Jesus, come and take little Annie up
to heaven to live always with thee and sister Sally. Blessed Saviour,
teacher says I am one of thy lambs, so I want to leave this wicked
world. Come and take mother too, make her fit to die. Amen." The
tears trickled down the mother's cheeks as the child turning round
said to her, "Tell the man to bring me a larger coffin, and tell teacher
next Sunday that I'm gone to heaven along with Sally" The child
would not leave the room, but sat hourly waiting for her coffin to come.
At last she was removed by force. In the night she was taken ill, and
the next day she became worse, and on the following day died, singing
I love Jesus, Hallelujah :
Jesus smiles and loves me too.'
10
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
From the day of the child's death the mother became an altered
woman; she gave up drinking and swearing, and now she is not only
rejoicing in the Saviour, but has been the instrument of leading
several costermongers' wives to the Cross of Christ.
C
It will be seen from our narrative, that the mission is in a most
prosperous condition spiritually. I can myself testify to the good
done, having carefully watched the work at various times. It has been
found desirable to visit each house in the district in order to show
the poor the necessity and profitableness of a religious life. Prayer
and faith are already exercised. A stimulus has only recently been
given to the work which cannot but result in great good. Already
larger numbers attend the Sabbath services than heretofore; and a
deep feeling seems to possess some who have been drunken with
iniquity. Mr. Orsman deserves our prayers and our support; he has
generously, nobly worked-worked not as a blind fanatic-there is
little of fanaticism in him; but with a steady determination, a fixed
purpose, a noble resolve, a single eye; and God has blessed him, and
will yet further bless him. Whatever will be the future history of
this mission, God alone knows but I part with it under this solemn
conviction, that it will grow and expand until Golden Lane will be
filled with Golden sheaves for God. Good Master! make it so, since
it is thy own delightful work!
:
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GIPSIES OF LONDON.
“OUTSIDE the pale of Christianity," is a phrase in common use
among those who believe that certain classes of people are irre-
claimably bad. Many good Christians who accept in theory the truth
that no man, however degraded, is out of the reformative power of
the gospel, are somewhat loath to carry their belief to a practical
conclusion. There is a mental morbidity which, while seeing sin
abounding and spreading its influence through every vein of mortal
life, narrows its vision of the great ocean of grace, until it appears the
meanest of streams; such persons will incredulously smile at the least
intimation of the existence of godliness among the lowest of the
THE GIPSIES OF LONDON.
75
socially low. Godly costermongers! Christian gipsies !-seem to
be absolute contradictions-affirmative negations. Possibly, those
few who lovingly cherish the dogma of reprobation as a satisfactory
settlement of every evil, will judge us fanatical for indulging in the
hope of the conversion to God of a race so morally and religiously
abandoned as the gipsies.
Gipsies in London! Are there any? a reader may enquire. We
seldom, perhaps never, discern them in, at least, the heart of the
metropolis, or, if we do, it is under different circumstances to those
which obtain in the provinces. This is true. The gipsy in London is
vastly different to the gipsy in the country. He is far more civilised
and is less conspicuous outwardly when sojourning in more enduring
habitations than wicker-framed tents. His habits are less free, his
freedom is more restrained; his restraints more marked in the city
than in the roadside, or forest and field. In the former condition
he is more difficult to influence than when roaming about. On the
Sabbath he disturbs the quiet of his neighbours by fiddling, dancing,
and gambling; and these highly intellectual pursuits he infinitely
prefers to the more sober attractions of a preaching-house. In the
winter, a number of gipsies live in some of the courts and alleys of
Golden Lane, and Old Kent Road, and in Shoreditch, where they
make cane chairs, and other similar articles. But, as may be sup-
posed, there are larger numbers dwelling in the suburban fringe of
the metropolis than in the city itself. Indeed, it is estimated that
there are at least 400 gipsy families living in the suburbs.
The reader may skip this paragraph if he chooses, although the
writer must not so treat his subject as to denude it of its historical
aspect. Who are the gipsies? Where did they come from? It is said
that the word gypsy-you can spell it with a y or an i, with far
more reason than Mr. Weller could find for his nonchalance about the
importance of v or w-is a corruption of Egypti-an, which is exceed-
ingly probable. Not quite so probable is the conjecture that they
came from Egypt. They may have been fugitives from Hindustan
to Europe; but whether they with wandering steps and slow, from
Egypt or the Promised Land, took their solitary way, is not quite
clear to the writer, or anybody else. Two facts of importance are in-
dubitable. 1. Nearly all their Christian names are of Hebrew origin
-Shadrach, Meslech, and Abednego, with names of patriarchal or
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prophetical fragrance, are common among them. 2. Their language
is called "Romany," and is almost entirely of Hindustanee origin ;*
and gipsies, naturally a suspicious people, have great confidence in he
who endeavours to understand their language. A friend, who knows
English gipsies well, believes that they were among the Egyptians
denominated "a mixed multitude," who left the land of tyranny for
the Land of Promise (Exod. xii. 38). Supposing that to have been the
case, we must construct some theory to account for their disseverance
from the Israelites, and determination not to return to their own
country. Whether they felt the indescribable horror with which
Scotchmen resident in England are credited when in prospect of
returning to the "Land o' cakes," or were disturbed by the emotions
which led Pliable to desist from his troublesome journey, cannot be
ascertained; but according to my friend's theory, they were probably
dissatified with the circumstances incident to the travellers in the
wilderness, and so left them, and probably wandered in distant lands,
until they found an entrance into India, from whence they distribut-
ed themselves over the globe. I leave this theory with the ingenious,
only remarking that were one-half the conjectures of those modern
prophets who most resemble the Norwood gipsies, as plausible or as
symmetrical, we might hold out the hope of being converted to their
views.
Mr. Crabb, a minister in Southampton, was, we believe, about the
first person to exert himself on behalf of the gipsies. In 1827, he
began to devise a plan which might, under the blessing of his Master,
benefit the souls of these outcasts. He visited their encampments in
Shirley Common, near Southampton, and although he did much good,
he could not raise Christian enthusiasm on the subject. In 1857, the
work of the "Institution for the Evangelisation of the Gipsies," was
delegated to the London City Mission, and from that time to the
present, a missionary has been supported whose work it is to travel
in different parts of suburban London, visiting the camps of the
gipsies and their wretched homes, which are always in the most
crowded and hidden courts or lanes that can be found. The present
* I am indebted to the missionary, whose name I mention further on, and not
to books, for this information respecting the origin of gipsies; but on referring
to an article in the Encyclopædia Britannica," on Gipsies, I find that Grell-
mann, who is the most learned writer on the subject, comes to the same conclu-.
sions, without much variation,
"
THE GIPSIES OF LONDON.
77
missionary is Mr. Burns, an intelligent, unassuming, thoughtful man,
who has spent seven years in this work, and whose influence with the
race is as great as it is encouraging. An unreserved manner begets
confidence in a gipsy; and to have broken down the natural distrust
which he has to civilised men is a work of no mean importance.
Gipsies are necessarily driven about by the police; and as they have
always been punished by the law for their trespasses and crimes,
they look upon most men as their enemies. Hence, the missionary
is at first treated with considerable suspicion, and Christianity is
considered to be a part and parcel of the system of oppression from
which they suffer. As they want more liberty or license than a
Christian country can possibly allow, they have strong prejudices
against the Gospel of Christ. Yet, any one who, with consideration,
goes to them with the message of salvation, will generally be received
with cordiality; and Mr. Burns assures me that an act of kindness
done to a gipsy will warm his heart with lasting gratitude and affec-
tion. Until they thoroughly understand the object of the mission-
ary, they fail to sympathise with him; when, however, his motives.
are comprehended, they will treat him as a friend. Mr. Burns is
known among them as their rashai—a word which comes from a
corruption of rajah, or chief, head, or minister.
Gipsies are remarkable for their olive complexion, jet black hair,
dark, piercing eyes, and white teeth; and some of them are exceed-
ingly handsome. Their gestures are very graceful, and they are far
more polite and considerate in their manners than are some of the
boors of London. To do justice to our subject, we must divide the
race into three classes.
*
First There are those gipsies who live in comparative affluence.
They are mostly horse-dealers, who buy up broken down horses that
are woefully reduced in flesh, in the North, and in Wales, and bring
them to London, after they have been "pclished up" and made to
look smart. Such horses are sold to great advantage; and a few
months ago one gipsy shipped forty such horses on board a vessel
bound for Canada. We congratulate the Canadians on their bargain.
This class of gipsies live mostly in tents, when they are not in their
town residences. They dress respectably, look more like horse-dealers
than gipsies, and are not timid about appearing in "society." Their
fine appearance makes them an object of attraction, if not admiration,
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to people in the country, who, I am informed, frequently go out of
town to see them. They resemble the upper class of costermongers in
many respects certainly in cleanliness. They are remarkable as a
class, for sobriety. There is but little unblushing immorality among
them, and they disown all females who break the laws of chastity.
Owing to their mixing up with persons of superior habits, they have
learnt most of the customs of civilised life. It is somewhat singular
that they should have a marked regard for the Sabbath-day; but it is
with them merely a matter of custom, not of religious feeling. There
are some peculiar traces of superstition among them. They have a
strong dislike to eating meat on Good Friday, considering it to be no
less than cutting up the flesh of Christ. One respectable gipsy re-
marked to Mr. Burns, on one occasion, that he should like to be shut
up for twelve months so that he might think and talk about reli-
gious things with the missionary, as though it were an impossibility
for a man to be converted unless he had a long preparatory training.
Happily there is a growing enlightenment among this class, and it
is believed that there are a goodly number of Christians among them,
though they manifest an uncommon shyness about entering places of
worship.
The second class consists of those gipsies who are constant atten-
dants at fairs, race-courses, picnics, &c., and who gain a decent liveli-
hood by letting out their donkeys for riding purposes. These gipsies
are tolerably well known at Sunday-school summer gatherings. They
look cut for excursions, and by travelling all night, if necessary, they
are sure to be in readiness for a job. When in a forest they will
send out a few scouting parties to report the precise position of
excursionists, and in this way they do a profitable business. This
class is not so scrupulous as to breaking the Sabbath. Indeed, they
run their donkeys on that day as on others, while the girls and boys
take charge of certain poles, which are crowned by hollow cocoa-nuts,
the purpose of which they publicly announce by a shrieking cry,
"Three shies a penny." They are inferior intellectually to the more
aristocratic gipsies; they believe in God, in heaven, and hell, but as
to any knowledge of redemption, and the gospel-revelation, they are
perfectly ignorant. “We were like heathens a few years ago," said
one gipsy woman speaking of her family, "and we should still have
been like them if God hadn't sent the missionary to us." These
THE GIPSIES OF LONDON.
79
words read coldly perhaps ; but they were most lovingly, and heartily
uttered. Some of the gipsies go to a christening to give their children
a name "that's all we can do for them," gravely remarked a gipsy,
on one occasion, to the minister-and to weddings, when those rare
occurrences are known to take place; but this is the extent of their
religious observances. •
The third class consists of the lowest type of gipsies. In the winter
there is no distinction between the second and third classes; for they
both herd together when living in houses. But this last class are
distinguished from the others inasmuch as they have neither horses
nor donkeys of their own, and so, and as my friend assures me they
shift as they can." Indeed, in that homely phrase is comprised all
their doings both of honesty and rascality. They cane chairs, sell
skewers, rob poultry-yards, steal the smallest trifles, and tell fortunes.
The gipsies who sell brooms, mats, &c., and travel in vans, are pro-
vided with a license, and these persons can hardly be denominated
London gipsies, as they are essentially roving tradesmen. The women
feel it a necessity, pleasant or not, it matters but little, to support
their husbands, who nurse the babies, make skewers, or idle about
while their acknowledged wives prey upon the credulity of servant
girls.
<<
I have said “ acknowledged wives." It is necessary that the im-
pression which seems to prevail extensively, that gipsies are notorious
for chastity, should be set right. It is to be regretted that so far
from this being the case, gipsies are, with certain honourable excep-
tions amongst the more respectable, almost dead to all moral percep-
tions. Nor do they attempt to conceal their iniquity. A missionary,
finding that two young persons, about seventeen years of age, in
whom he had taken some interest, were disposed to be married,
asked the consent of the boy's father to the union. The father replied
that he should first let them go into the country to live together for
three months, by way of trial. The reader would be shocked to learn
the unblushing depravity which exists among this class—a depravity
due undoubtedly to the constant association in one tent, or in one
small room, of perhaps fourteen or fifteen persons of both sexes.
With some women a month's acquaintance with a man is long
enough, especially if another one will, at the end of that time, "make
love to them." Some of the poorer classes would probably be married
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were it not for the fees. One of the City Mission's agents took
seventeen couples to a church where they could be married for nothing,
the mission paying the requisite small registration fee. Few of this
lower class of gipsies can read, and those who do have been taught by
the missionary.
Among all classes fortune-telling prevails the second and third
class mostly. Some of these fortune-tellers pay a given sum for the
right of carrying on their business in pleasure-grounds and tea-
gardens-and a more reprehensible practice, attended as it often is
by the vilest evils, cannot be imagined. Of course, the greater
number gain access to servant girls under the pretence of selling
useful articles, and so prey upon their weak-mindedness. These im-
postors often get considerable sums of money in one day; indeed, one
gipsy acknowledged that she deemed it "a bad day" if she did not
get £5 by her acuteness and other people's folly. I enquired of Mr.
Burns how it was they were able to discern the mental weakness
of their dupes. He informed me, in reply, that one woman sounded
the girls (obliquely I suppose) at first, and when she found them
(6
soft," took more money from them. Frequently, however, they
gain a clue to the character and circumstances of their dupes, and
they will obtain in a kind of mystic byplay, further particulars from
the girls themselves. Consequently their victory is frequently easy.
Two or three curious instances have been mentioned to me which
though laughable in themselves, have a sad aspect. A young man on
horseback met a gipsy, who offered to tell him his fortune. Instead
of accepting the offer, he gave the woman half-a-crown to go to a cer-
tain house and tell the fortune of a servant girl who was about to be
married in a few days to a person whom he described. Through this
girl, she was requested to obtain access to the young mistress,
to whom the gentleman in question had ineffectually paid his
addresses. The gipsy succeeded admirably with the servant, who, wild
with surprise at the truthfulness of the gipsy's revelation to her, ran
up stairs to the young mistress, who, thereupon, ordered the gipsy
upstairs. The fortune-teller, after the preliminary incantations (or
whatever they are termed), assured the young lady that she had had
two offers of marriage from a handsome gentleman (describing the
rider on horseback), and she would soon have a third offer from the
same person; but if she rejected it she would never receive another.
THE GIPSIES OF LONDON.
(summand.
81
(C
proposal. It is hardly necessary to add that the young man's griefs
were quickly at an end, and the marriage bells soon told out their
pleasant tales. This instance is only one out of several I could give;
but I have better things in hand.
The state of religious knowledge among the gipsies may be gather-
ed from the following incidents :-Speaking to a lad about fifteen
years of age, a missionary said that, when he asked him concerning his
soul, the boy turned upon him a pair of penetrating eyes, and said,
“A soul! what's that?"—" Did you never hear of the soul which we
all have in our bodies?" No, sir." "What becomes of you when
you die?" "I goes under the ground," he replied, pointing
at the same time to the earth. "Did you ever hear of heaven or
hell?" "No!" "Did you ever hear of Jesus Christ?" "No!" Mr.
Burns once visited a man in a tent, in Rotherhithe, and talked to
him, while he was engaged in making skewers, respecting the death
of Jesus Christ on the cross. He was interrupted by the man calling
out in amazement, "Bless me is that good man dead? I never
heard of it before." This ignorance, however, is far less difficult to
deal with than cases similar to that of a woman occupying a very
small shop, who, in answer to the question, "Whether she ever read
the Bible," replied, No; she liked Genesis, but she didn't care for
the New Testament, which would do for the lower classes of people."
My friend, the missionary-who is a type of what such a person
should be in kindness of heart-enlists the sympathies of the gipsies
in various ways; and he finds out his parishioners (pardon the expres
sion) by asking, "Do you know any friends you would like me to
talk to?" By occasionally carrying messages to and fro, he secures
the friendship of all parties, who rejoice in him and in his ministra-
tions. At Epsom races he will visit some two hundred families, many
of whom come from a distance of two hundred and fifty miles. By a
new-comer he is at first treated with indifference, yet always with a
certain measure of respect. In one case he read the circumstances con-
nected with the death of Lazarus, when he was told that all he had
said was suitable enough for rich people like the selfish man in tor-
ments, for they wanted it most: rich people now-a-days wouldn't let a
a poor man beg for a crust of bread." Mr. Burns replied that, "The
rich men could read their Bibles and have their ministers to tell them
what was right; but the City Mission did not want the gipsies to
11
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be without the benefits of the gospel, and so they had sent him among
them." The men, thereupon, listened attentively, and one was con-
verted, and soon after, on his death-bed, testified to the blessedness
of the change that had been wrought in him.
One good feature in a gipsy is his desire of acquiring knowledge.
They confess their delight in hearing the Scriptures expounded, and,
indeed, this is the general feeling of all illiterate persons. They fre-
quently ask the meaning of the words, "being converted," "born
again," and so on. One gipsy, a fortune-teller, enquired of a mis-
sionary what was the meaning of Christ's words, "If thy right hand
offend thee, cut it off." The reply was that, "If sin was as dear to
a person as his right hand, he was to cut it off." The woman said,
"I see it entirely. My sin of telling fortunes must be cut off, although
it has been as dear to me as my right hand, since by it I have sup-
ported my husband and nine children." From Mr. Burns's unpub-
lished journal, I learn that fortune-telling is greatly encouraged by
ladies" Mrs. during my visit, told me of the temptations she
had from ladies to go back to her sin of fortune-telling, but she had
answered them that she would die in the workhouse before she would
go back to serve the devil, or to please them. They offered, she said,
to support her and her family if she would but tell them their for-
tunes, and nobody's else. But no! 'she would not falsify her word.'
They then said, 'If the queen was to come, would you not?' She
replied, No!' 'But the queen could compel you!' This roused her
indignation, and opening the door, she said, 'Good bye, ladies, I
hope I shan't see you no more.' So they departed and have not
troubled her since." Of course, fortune-telling is given up imme-
diately after conversion. One converted gipsy-woman has lost £100
by her consistency in this respect; and this firmness of principle is a
noble trait in their Christian character. They know how to make
sacrifices for the truth, and prefer the washtub and poverty to sin
and riches, when once they have tasted the freedom of Christ's gos-
pel. When they are thoroughly enlightened on the truths of re-
"If I am
demption, they acknowledge their responsibility to God.
not saved, I know it will be my own fault," remarked one to the
missionary, "for I know many things now which I never knew
before." They are also acute in most matters. A traveller, but not
a pure gipsy, boasted that she had once beaten Dr. Wiseman, before
$
THE GIPSIES OF LONDON.
83
¿
he was a cardinal, in an argument she had held with him about the
Bible. The children are quick in receiving truth, and in giving it
some practical issues; in this way, under God's blessing, mothers and
fathers have been brought to a knowledge of the gospel.
Mr. Burns has a happy method of conveying instruction. He once
found a gipsy making beehives. He began to tell him of the busy
bees which would some day inhabit the hive, and of their method of
treating the "shining hours," pressing upon him the necessity of im-
proving his opportunities for eternity ere they flitted away. He
finds the historical portions of the Scriptures the most acceptable to
those ignorant of the Word, and the story of Joseph's life is most
greedily devoured by them. Although it cannot be ascertained how
many conversions have taken place, yet there is little doubt that this
one missionary has done much good in enlightening the dark minds
of many of this race. There is a desire for listening to the good news
of salvation, and it is most cheering to witness a group of gipsies.
listening to the golden truths of the gospel.
I have seen several letters addressed by converted gipsies to their
missionary, and the spelling, writing, and composition, are exceed-
ingly creditable to their authors. Such hearty letters would gladden
any evangelist's heart. They are grand evidences of the irresistible
power of divine grace in the souls of this supposed dangerous class of
The following letter was written by a young gipsy, of
comely appearance, and considerable intelligence, who occupies a com-
fortable situation in the city. He is a member of a Christian church,
and occasionally, I believe, he preaches :—
outcasts.
"MY DEAR SIR,-I thank God I have the blessed privilege of writing to tell
you a little of my experience. I feel, too, sir, I am saved through the blood of
Jesus Christ. I am nothing of myself. If I was left alone I should soon go
wrong; but I trust in Jesus our Saviour. I don't want only to profess religion,
but I want to show it in my daily walk, that my life may be a profitable sermon.
I am very much in the office alone, and when I am alone and without occupa-
tion, something tells me to pray. Well, I think to myself, some one might come
in and catch me ; still I cannot rest until I do, and I am very much blest. One
day when I was praying, I felt as if I saw Jesus and angels on the ceiling, I felt
so happy I did not know what to do. In fact, whenever I pray, it appears I
speak to Jesus individually. But I often have dark clouds come over my mind,
and then I pray, and they are soon dispersed. Thanks be to God for this blessed
religion. I used to be afraid of death, but now death will be joy to me—what a
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blessed thing this is! It appears to me now as if I should be happy, if I only
had dry bread to eat.
"Dear Sir,-If it pleases God, when I become a man, or as soon as I can, I
will be a missionary. It appears to me as if there is something very often ying
to me as follows: Son, go work to-day in my vineyard.' Matt. xxi. 28. There-
fore I feel it is my duty to work for my Father, my everlasting Father !"
(;
I intended closing this paper by commending the work of the City
Mission to the sympathy and support of the reader"; but there is
little or no need to do with words what facts can best perform. The
quiet, almost unobservant, character of the work done by the mis-
sionaries employed by this excellent society, carries with it its own
commendation. Thousands will have to acknowledge their best
indebtedness to the faithful teaching of the simple-hearted men who,
with no great intellectual gifts, but with the graces of a meek and
lowly spirit, and the gift of earnest Christian activity, search for lost.
pieces of silver from the dust-heaps of sin and iniquity. Such work
carries its own reward-such work claims the Christian regard and
support. Three hundred and seventy-one missionaries are engaged
in this service every day, and the amount of good done among the
homes of the poor cannot be fully estimated until the day arrives
when all secrets shall be revealed.
CHAPTER IX.
CHIMNEY - SWEEPERS.
THERE is a prominent organ of the face which, it is said, humanity
invariably follows. It may be convenient that this useful organ
should have so great an honour bestowed upon it; but it is not always
desirable that in every step of our pilgrimage it should be exceedingly
sensitive. In visiting certain fragrant nooks and corners of England's
vast metropolitan world, it may be well to nerve our symmetrical
and highly-delicate nostrils by a little administration of some cam-
phorated essence or otto of roses. And since it is impossible for us
to refuse to follow nature's guide-post, we must endeavour, with that
becoming patience which beareth all things, submissively to bend to
our fate, in the hope that the application of a sort of moral smelling-
bottle may restore us to our normal condition of sensitiveness. Yet
we lack not nicety of judgment or taste in selecting a series of
CHIMNEY SWEEPERS.
85
subjects for sketches that may offend the squeamish. We may not
dislike the utmost delicacy even when we bear with a few whiffs from
an atmosphere less charged with pure oxygen than we would desire
it to be, while it may be for the good of those who are compelled
daily to breathe it, that we should learn something of their circum-
stances and unfortunate condition. We write for Christian hearts
and minds, for those who can heartily say, in the words of a German
commentator—“ Although nothing further is said or heard of us in
the world than this-That man takes pains to save sinners by the
gospel, and his labour is not fruitless; here a sinner is apprehended;
there one sighs after grace; there one rejoices over the peace of his
soul, that one walks according to the gospel, and all regard the man
as a faithful example-that is an abiding praise before God." To
gratify the curious is not our aim. Whatever may tend to enlighten
the Christian public on the spiritual wants of the poorest of the Lon-
don poor, will be considered and pressed into service. Our sole desire
is to honour Christian religion by pointing out special and unlooked-
for means of Christian usefulness. As far as possible, the facts we give
shall be fresh and verified by observation. There are thousands of poor
people living in London, working at all kinds of odd trades, who
have scarcely as yet been touched by religious agencies. There is a
vast quantity of activity abroad-some of it of a very questionable
character, but the major portion in the result of earnest, honest, self-
denying Christianity. But with all the machinery, voluntary and
paid, that is put in motion, the fringe of London's vice and ungodliness
has only been touched, and the heart of the evil has not been reached.
We begin with a chat on the chimney-sweepers. Even a dark
subject may be fairly treated, and while there is much that is
disagreeable to relate, there is something encouraging to reveal.
For though sweeps are nigrescent subjects of her Gracious Majesty
-developing naturally day by day by some professional law of
progression from "innocent blacknesses," "dim specs," and "young
Africans" into genuine disciples of King Ebony, yet they are getting
to be of more cleanly habits. Unlike Mr. Disraeli, the sweep
must not declare himself to be on the angel's side, for it would only
suggest a cruel question as to which type of angel it might be.
He resembles the Negro in his love for oleaginousness, though with
the introduction of sweeping-machines, he has lost some of his
C
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inclinations for greasy and fatty food. Like most trades, there are
several classes of workmen, and if we deal largely with the lower
class of sweeps, it is not because we prefer them most, but deem
them most needing missionary effort.
Dear reader, you doubtless recall to memory the dismal dreams
you had in childhood of these youthful lovers of stifling darkness
rather than cheerful light. What pictures of prospective misery were
painted on your susceptible retina! horrors which would surely be
realised if you did not submit to the servant-girl's dogma of good
works. Charles Lamb tells us that when a child it was a mysterious
pleasure to him to "see a chit no bigger than oneself enter, one
knew not by what process, into what seemed the fauces Averni-to
pursue him in imagination as he went sounding on through so many
dark stifling caverns, horrid shades to shudder with the idea that
"now surely he must be lost for ever'-to revive at hearing his feeble
shout of discovered day-light--and then (oh, fulness of delight!)
running out of doors, to come just in time to see the sable pheno-
menon emerge in safety, the brandished weapon of his art victorious,
like some flag waved over a conquered citadel." Far less poetic was
our experience. We were to be good-and it was hard work; or we
were to be reduced to a servitude not particularly pleasant to the
youthful mind. The present generation of impressible boys is not
subject to these nursery demons. The young climbers of a bygone
age of moral gloominess are gone. In their place we have grown-up
men still more horrid in their grim conventionalities. These fully
developed chimney-sweepers constitute a new order of creation. They
are unrelated to society. It does not acknowledge them as brothers
-veritable flesh and blood. Who can sympathise with soot? Who
can associate with these sable knights of the telescopic rod and soot-
bag? So society uses them, pays per swept chimney, and allows them
to depart in peace. They do so depart, for sweeps are not a quarrel-
some, discontented, or ungrateful race. They go home with "the
vile dust" they have gathered, and, so far as the public is concerned,
they are unwept, unhonoured, and unsung." Our missionary and
anti-alcoholic friends are left to try their powers of persuasion with
them, and, in some cases, they have well succeeded.
Most of the London chimney-sweepers are not distinguished for
respectability. They work well, fare better, and swear best. The
:
((
CHIMNEY SWEEPERS.
87
minority consist of rather intelligent men, whose business is confined
to the upper and middle classes of dwellings (and presumably of chim-
neys). The master-men are frequently intelligent, and a certain test
of respectability is to be found when you have discovered where they
keep their soot. None but the poorest would store soot in their
bed-rooms; and among the higher classes of sweeps, a cellar or shed
is always provided for the reception of their sacks. Mr. Mayhew,
who has contributed more than anyone to soot-lore-some of it being
rather apocryphal-has made a proper classification of these indi-
viduals, and has very graphically described their mental, moral, and
social condition. He found what, from enquiry, we have learnt to
⚫ be largely correct, namely, that they are a short-lived people, which
we believe is to be attributed to their drunken habits; that many
suffer from a cancer peculiar to the trade, which probably has its origin
in uncleanly habits, for it is rare to find a sweep washing himself once
a day; and a sweep has informed us that the majority of the lower
class never wash more than once a month. Some sweepers acknow-
ledge that they have vomited balls of soot. The lower class have the
same simple ideas of constituted authority as the costermonger. The
police, to them, are the rulers of the world. Their sympathies are
wholly with rioters. "The sweepers," says Mr. Mayhew, “have a
sovereign contempt for all acts of parliament, because the only act
that had any reference to themselves 'threw open,' as they call it,
their business to all who were needy enough and who had the capa-
bility of availing themselves of it." They pick out their concubines
-for the lower class is generally regardless of the marriage cere-
mony-from those street girls who have as little love for morality as
their consorts. Their children, it is said, are few in number, and
are brought up to be blackguards and street rovers. One of the
fraternity, who had served an apprenticeship of seven years to the
trade, made a statement relative to his class, in which he said :—
"Our people don't care much about law; they don't understand any-
thing about politics much; they don't mind things of that 'ere kind.
They only minds to get drunk when they can. Some on them fel-
lows as you see'd in there niver cleans theirselves from one year's
end to t' other." The men complain that their business is ruined
by what they term "querying," ie., asking for work at different
houses.
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
We attended, one Sabbath evening, a meeting for sweeps at the
Lambeth Baths, that was organised by Mr. Murphy, of Southwark.
It had been announced that the audience would be addressed by men
of the class invited. There was a large attendance, although one-half
of those present were not sweeps, but were working men generally.
Hymns were sung, prayers offered, and we remember that during even
the most devotional parts of the service, there were fallen women,
who had mingled with the crowd, who were plying their infamous
trade, while costermongers' lads were grinning and chattering irrever-
ently in groups of three or four during the proceedings. One master
chimney sweep-an intelligent young man, who spoke correctly and
modestly told the story of his own conversion, and very pleasantly
entreated his "mates" to accept the provisions of the gospel. He had
tried the pleasures of sin for a pretty long season, but he had never
discovered true happiness until he found it at the Cross. The next
speaker was a striking contrast to the previous one. He was about
sixty years of age. His chubby head, receding forehead, broad jaw
—always indicative of animal propensities-told plainly the charac-
teristics of the man. The maternal washings, as Lamb would say,
had long been effaced from the check, and there was but little trace
of subsequent ablutions. He was a master sweeper, he said, and
had known what it was to earn his five pounds a week. Until
within the last few years he had been a very great blackguard-" no
mistake about me "--and we thought so too. "I used to get drunk
nearly every night. You knows that." Here there was an affirma-
tive answer or two, from his "mates on the platform. "I went
home at night, whopped (beat) my wife; my wife would have a little
drink too, and she used to. whop me back again. For some ten
minutes or so, he went on describing the villanies of his life, show-
ing how disgustingly low human nature may sink, but we need not
follow him through revelations which shocked every sensitive ear,
From his address we could not gather whether he had been converted
by God's grace. He attributed his change of life to teetotalism,
which he recommended to all his " mates as the only thing that
could lift them out of their degradation. It was essentially a tem-
perance address-a glorification of total abstinence as the gospel
for the working classes. Having been a rabid drunkard, he had
become a rabid teetotaller. His God had been his belly: now his
>>
>>
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CHIMNEY SWEEPERS.
89
abstinence was his God. All sensible Christian abstainers must
deprecate the exaltation of the gospel of teetotalism at the expense
of the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ; and we regret to observe
the sad mistake made in certain places of hiring halls for temperance
harangues on Sunday evenings. The third chimney sweep who
spoke, wisely put the social principles he held dear in their
proper place, and descanted on the importance of not being
satisfied with a mere outward change the leprosy of soul
lies deep within. There are many who are trusting in the reforma-
tion of their social hoits. "Are you a Christian?" you ask, and
meet with the reply, "No, sir, but I'm a teetotaller."
Operative chimney sweepers, though frequently sharp-witted, have
but little perception of the alphabet of religious truth. They
manifest their ignorance in their speech. Indeed it is very sad to
observe the curious notions prevalent among those who do not
attend public worship, as to what Christianity is. A city missionary
on one occasion was urging a poor, slatternly woman to teach her
three dirty, shoe and stockingless children to call upon God in their
youth, when he was interrupted by the remark, "Yes, sir, and do
you know my children says their prayers every night! they have
learned a werry nice prayer-
" Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
Bless the bed that I lay on.”
And she wanted to know whether that was not a good prayer to
teach her children. Dr. Livingstone's description of the curious
beliefs of the Tette blacks might almost be applied to the heathen
blacks at home. Both believe there are spirits in the air, and that
drinking beer is the best way of propitiating their favour,
"The
uncontaminated Africans," observes the doctor, "believe that Mor-
ungo, the Great Spirit who formed all things, lives above the stars;
but they never pray to him, and know nothing of their relation to
him, or of his interest in them.' The chimney sweepers have
similar ideas as to their relation to the Almighty, who, they consider,
cares as little for them as do their fellow men in superior positions
of life. Indeed, our readers would be startled, to listen to the
confessions of ignorance of religious truth so frequently made
by this unfortunate class. That we are not misrepresenting the
character of the men of whom we are writing, we will give a speech
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
made by a Bermondsey sweep, who was converted in the Victoria
Theatre, and of the truthfulness of whose narrative we have received
confirmatory evidence. He said, "I am well known to many of you
here, and those of you who do know me, know that I have been one
of the vilest of the vile. There are plenty living in Bermondsey
who know me as being a drunkard and swearer, and everything
else that's bad, and so I continued up to the time that I went to the
Victoria Theatre. Well, the Lord Jesus took hold of me, a dirty,
black, drunken, blackguard sweep, and saved me. A dear brother
that's sitting over there, took a good deal more trouble with me than
ever I took with myself. He came after me lots 'o times to try to
get me with him to the preaching at the Victoria Theatre; so after
he had come so many times, at last I said, 'Very well, 'Whippy,'
so I will.'
So I went to the theatre this night, and sure enough,
whilst I was listening to Mr. Carter, all the whole of my weight of
wickedness came down upon me, all my sins struck me at once; so
I'll leave you to guess how I felt, for I was, as I told before, a dirty,
drunken sot. I was all bad, and no good at all. You may depend
upon it, I was miserable and wretched. So, after the preaching, I
was in the pit of the theatre, and I felt as if I should soon be
sinking in the pit of hell. Just then, Mr. Carter came and touched
me. He put his hand upon my shoulder, and it seemed to me just
as though it was an angel from heaven; for, in a moment, I
felt such happiness and joy that I can't tell you. I saw Jesus plain
enough though, and my sins was all gone; and now the Lord has
made me happy, and the Lord has taught me to pray to God for my
wife and many others. I bless God that now every night I kneel
on my knees, and my wife too goes down on her knees to pray; but
she keeps it all to herself, she does not let you hear anything that
she prays [ his wife is a Roman Catholic ], but blessed be my Jesus,
I am not so greedy; I don't mind letting all the people in the
house hear me pray.
Now, I'm not ashamed to own that, before I
was converted, I lived with my wife, although she was not my
wife; but as soon as ever I was converted I knew at once that was
wrong, so I told her I would not live with her any longer unless
we was married. My friend who first took me to the theatre asked
me about sitting down to the table of the Lord and about baptism ;
but I said, 'No, not till that little job was done.' And now, my
*
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CHIMNEY SWEEPERS.
91
dear brothers and sisters, if there's any of you here that's living as
I was, let me ask you to go and do as I have done. Come, be up to
your work; and if you can't get the money together to be married
with, borrow it of somebody, and then be honest enough to pay it
back again."
There can be no doubt that "poor chummy" is an impressible.
being. He may be reclaimed. Indeed, teetotal principles have done
much for him. And those who have held special meetings for chim-
ney sweeps, have reported favourably of the attention manifested,
and the gratitude expressed for good counsels. It is curious to ob-
serve how simple and untechnical their language is when they des-
cribe their conversion. Theologically, as we should say, they are
"nowhere." They have not had time to regard the five points. In-
deed, they do not know what they are. But they can express them-
selves satisfactorily on this point, "Whereas I was blind, now I see."
This simple testimony to us is a charm; to some hypercritical reli-
gionists, who never pardon doctrinal deficiencies, it is evidence of
delusion or insincerity. Here, for instance, is a curious speech from
a converted sweep, which will shock narrow-souled sceptics :-"Dear
brothuren-When I fust cum into this 'ere hall, thurteen months
ago, to a chimbley sweepers' tea-meeting, I was a hignorant, drunkin
sweep; I used to spend all my money at the public-house, and my
wife had to goo and work in the dustyard to get bread. When I
cum to that 'ere sweeps' meetin, I know'd nothink about Jesus, I
never heer'd his name oney in swearin', and I never know'd I'd got
a soul'd, but when Muster
lifted up Jesus and holler'd out,
Eternity! eternity!! eternity!!! I felt horful, and cried wery much.
Arterwoods, when the preacher spoke to me and told me that God
loved me, and that Jesus died for me on the cross, I was wery glad
to believe it. Well, I went home and got to bed, but couldn't sleep,
so I got out o' bed agin' and for the fust time, in my life prayed to
Jesus. My wife ast me what was the matter wi' me, and I told her
that I had bin to the sweeps' tea-meetin, and they said that I was
conwarted; I didn't know what being conwarted meant then, but I
do now tho'; I can read this here (holding up a Bible), and I know
what the Lord Jesus said is true, 'You must be borned agin,' and I
know that I am borned agin, I am a new man. Why I'm a changed
man altogether, my wife ką ws it wery well. I don't goo to the
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public-house now, and I keeps my wife at home to see arter the house
instid of working herself to death in the dustyard. Now, what the
Lord has done for me, he can and wull do for you, if you'll oney trust
him. I hope the Lord ull save all on yer, that's all I've got to say."
Other similar stories might be recorded; but what we have given
will indicate sufficiently the nature of the whole. So far as we have
been enabled to discover, there are no special organisations at work
for this class, and the Christian activities should not be confined to
any particular class of artisans, excepting under local circumstances.
To do so is only to foster a spirit of trade isolation and a hateful
feeling of caste. And as the chimney sweepers are to be found in
all parts of London, it would not be easy to open mission-rooms for
their special benefit. But evangelists, like Mr. Carter and Mr. Mur-
phy, who seek to bring the men together to partake of a social
repast, and to preach Jesus Christ to them, deserve all the encour-
agement which the Christian public can afford. Nor can we omit
to add that the Primitive Methodists have been greatly useful in
evangelising among the chimney sweepers of London: there can be
no doubt that they have been far more successful in this work than
any other denomination.
-
CHAPTER X.
DAY CAB MEN.
"No Lamps!" inscribed on every London cab! "No Lamps !"
shouted by burly voices into wondering ears. "Ah! Lamps!”—the
friendly recognition of familiar companions-the saucy, run-away
shriek of mischievous, playful boys. "No lamps!' but did cabs
ever have any ?" was the puzzled enquiry inwardly made by many
surprised Londoners. "No lamps!' but who ever wanted any ?"
asked a similarly bewildered citizen. "What, no lamps!" thought
others, who imagined a conspiracy was on foot for the extinction of
all street light, "and are we to return to Egyptian darkness-to the
days when all good people went home at dusk, and, at the toll of
curfew bell, put out the fire and went to bed?" The cry took the
city by surprise. Lamps, and their proscription, became, for the
nonce, the song of the drunkard, the jest of the street wit, the.
watchword of cabby's freedom and plic rights. The Home Office,
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DAY CABMEN.
93
that mysterious repository of late of social grievances, many and
diverse, was again threatened with a storm of popular fury, most
dangerous to the official mind-always so calm and placid, because
seldom overworked. Cabs were withdrawn in the evening, the
drivers merrily tramping to Exeter Hall, "chaffing" each other
most indecorously all the way, upsetting any unfortunate cab, the
owner of which, craven-like, refused to swell the ranks of the op-
pressed, and threatening others that were running beyond the hour
of call. At two crowded meetings, the loud hoarse cry, from clamor-
ous cabmen, of "No lamps!" went up to the Home Office, and was
heard so effectively that it speedily brought official relief. "What
C
à
a fuss," we remarked to a respectable-looking cabman, "about a lit-
tle oil." "Ah, sir," replied he, "it isn't the 'ile: 'ile's cheap. Nor
is it the lamps, for they's ornamental. But it's the oppression gener-
ally. What's government coming to now-a-days? Dickey Mayne is
always up to summat. People think lamps are a benefit, but they
isn't. Many's the man that has been run over 'cos of them.
They deceive yer on a dark night. I knew a 'bus driver who saw a
cab coming along, and thought he would jist find time to walk across
the road, when down came the cab on him and broke his leg. No,
sir, lamps is only Dickey's excuse for oppressing us, and our guv'nors
won't stand it ;" and so saying, cabby drew himself up with feelings
of pride at the resolution of his employers. In one of the daily
prints, a cabman is supposed to relate his numerous grievances, which
he does in a most original way. On the day of the strike, he deter-
mined to hire an "unhappy bein'" to see "how many of Dickey's
rules and regulations he broke in the course of a six-mile drive." At
the conclusion of the drive, so this somewhat fanciful story goes, the
self-styled "invalid cabman" convicted the "unhappy bein'" of
breaking a number of Acts of Parliament, which he does in the fol
lowing language :-
+
"That'll do, cabman," sez I, in a graceful tone, "you have broke the Fust
and Second of Villiam, cap. 22, sec. 28, makin' use of abusive langwidge and
gestures-penalty, three pounds or a cupple of months. And now we're on the
subjeck, p'raps you'd like to know what other Acts you're run into durin' the
short time we have been so 'quainted. In the fust place, you grazed 1st and 2nd
Vic., c. 86, sec. 83, by loiterin' and plyin' for hire off a stand—penalty, a pound,
which makes four pound; you had hardly got clear of that before you bumped
agin the 16 and 17, sec. 11 of the same, by neglectin' to take sum lost property
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-to wit, a tobakky pipe-to Scotland yard. As if you hadn't done enuff damije
to Villiam, you must have another fling at the 1st and 2nd, cap. 22, sec. 50, by
sufferin' another pusson to ride on your vehaycle without the consent of the
hirer—to wit, me—penalty twenty shillings, as before, which makes five pounds
o' damije, or four weeks, in less than a quarter of an hour. So far, so good, cab.
man. Arter that you has another shy at the 1st and 2nd of Villiam, by leaving
your vehaycle unattended while you went to drink, whereby you forfeited one
pound more, which makes six pound. Next you collide with is the 16th and
17th Vic.. cap. 33, sec. 17, where you are ordered to drive six mile a hour, unless
speshially hired by time, whereas you have only driven me that distance in a
hour and a half-but never mind, it's only another forty shillings, or another
month, which makes jest eight pound. Still bent on mischief agin the 16th and
17th Vic., you negleck to carry with you a book of fares, "for the information
of the person, etcettery," meanin' me-penalty forty shillings more, or a month
more, which brings it up to to ten pound, or three months. Don't fancy the
16th and 17th of ditto has done with you yet. It hasn't. By sec. 8, you ought
to carry a card, and you didn't-likewise two pound, or one mouth. So take
your choice; which makes twelve pound, or four months, both even numbers.
Arter that, as you wouldn't leave one brick standing upon another in Villiam's
house, you go back and overturn his 1st and 2nd, c. 22, s. 20, in giving a wrong
number by word of mouth-penalty five pound more, which brings it up to
seventeen pound. Then. it seems, you changed your abode without having it
endorsed on your license by Dickey Mayne-penalty, twenty bob, see 6 and 7
Vic., sec. 15. This makes eighteen pound, cabman; but you are not obliged to
pay if you have a conshientious objecksbun-you can serve the four months."
This, of course, is a caricature; but it really represents, though in
exaggerated language and with the aid of fanciful pictures, the griev
ances of this class of men. They are surrounded by clumsy Acts of
Parliament, which, if enforced, would make their lives simply un-
bearable. "The very moment a cabman takes his seat on his box,”
we are told, "he becomes liable to a penalty of fifty pounds-that
is to say, such is the sum total of the fines that may be levied on
him for neglecting to perform the duties of his calling." Let us hope
their difficulties may be speedily and pleasantly adjusted, and, if so,
the waving, in Exeter Hall, of 3,000 black hats will not have been
without a good purpose.
Cabmen may be divided either into two or three classes-into day
cabmen and night cabmen, or long day, short-day, and night cabmen.
We take the responsibility of making these distinctions, but we
believe their accuracy to be unquestionable. The day cabman is
decidedly more intelligent than the night worker, of whom we shall
have much to say in our next chapter. Indeed, there are hundreds of
!
DAY CABMEN.
95
I
(C
cabmen especially the younger men, of respectable character, consider-
able intelligence, and good morals. If we attempt to portray an old
stager," who may be regarded as typical of a large number of his
class, let no reader imagine we are so blind as to regard all cabmen
alike. There is scarcely a class of men in the whole earth in whose
characters both light and shade may not be found. Generalisations
are both vague and deceptiye. The elements that go to make up
one picture are diversely scattered in another. What Mr. Matthew
Arnold calls "light and sweetness
light and sweetness" may be found in some cabmen
as well as in some Philistines. It may be subdued light, of course,
and a "mingled sweetness long drawn out," but we must accept
what nature affords.
>>
The cabman of satirical prints does belong to a past generation.
A new order of cabmen has come in; but the old has not gone out.
He is an old " stager, and understands “hoss” flesh perhaps
better than human flesh. Looking at him out of my window, I see
him patiently waiting for some seemingly inconsiderate customers.
It is a bitterly cold, snowy day; yet he is attempting to whistle,
and is wildly beating his hands together to keep time. The old
"stager" lives in a world of his own; but, unlike the Yankee, does
not consider that world to revolve on its own axis, subject to his
own, or "the American constitution." He has his pet theories, and
nurses them. His vision is contracted on some things-enlarged on
He is
others. He enjoys his newspaper, and relishes his beer.
gladdened by professional glad tidings, and is comforted by hot rum-
and-water. He is honoured for his natural wit, and is enlivened,
spurred, and sometimes maddened, by the wit of others. He under-
stands betting, but dislikes losing. He has a wide circle of
acquaintances, all of them touched with the same mental fancies.
He knows the full history of "Tom," with whose daily "makings
he is conversant, and understands the manifold weaknesses of
"Bob." He recognises them by some friendly salute that would be
indecorous to any one out of his peculiar freemasonry; he calls
them by names by which they were never christened, save by him-
self. He is kind hearted to children, especially young girls; he is
hard hearted to the little gamins, whose annoyance in the street is
aggravated by the impossibility of his reaching them with his whip.
He laughs provokingly, yet fraternally, at the toiling anxieties of
رد
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the traffic-impeding costermonger, and growls savagely at the
officiousness of the policeman. He is won by the kindness that
adds an extra shilling to his fare; he is repelled by the client who
"bates" him in his prices. To the one he is either amiable or
stolidly indifferent-to the other he is indignant or peppery. To
his regular customers, who know his fare, he is businesslike and
civil; to his irregular or greener customers he is sometimes thank-
less and imposing. He is gallant to the well-paying fair sex, but
to the "screwing" fair, or, as he naughtily regards them, unfair,
sex, whom he protests constitute the larger portion, he is positively
rude, and wishes they were of sterner, manlier build ("Lawks,”
says he, "some of 'em is manly enough ") that he might either fight
them with the law or with his fists. The latter he regards as the
readier and more sensible way; but society, he knows, is against
him. He has the spirit of discernment, which a glass of spirits
wonderfully quickens; and a man is none the less a gentleman in
his estimation when he affords this acceptable aid. He has enough.
to provoke his temper, and more to try his patience. He has fre-
quently a painful conflict with rough weather and howling winds.
These are the foes of his peace and of his personal appearance.
He is subject to a series of physical plagues; sometimes sore with
disease, tormented with ague, disabled by gout, bloated by intem-
perance, exhausted by long hours of labour. His enemies are, he
thinks, ever ready to annoy him, but he is ever ready to annoy
them. He seldom gets blocked up in the streets without exercising
his lungs, manifesting his temper, threatening to use his whip, or
actually using his truculent, incisive, and always personal wit.
Like the costermonger, he would sing a "requiem" over the dead
body of pugilism; and like the costermonger, he would transport
all policemen who did not rigidly confine their attentions to the
criminal classes. But, unlike the costermonger, he is a bit of a
reading man, although his opportunities are scanty, and he has
far higher notions of things on the earth and under the earth, of
things seen and unseen, than the street dealer. A philosophical
cabman one does not expect to see; a Christian cabman one may
frequently meet; and when you do engage such a one, remember
Lamb's advice respecting a youthful chimney sweeper, "It is good
to give him a penny; it is better to give him twopence," or, as we
DAY CABMEN.
97
should say in our prosaic way, "It is good to give him his fare; it
is better to give him a trifle more."
treatment-in London, at least.
Sixpence a mile is cruel
Christian calmen! We have one such in our mind's eye now.
God bless him! One sunny morning, voluntarily drest in his best
honour of the event, he stood looking pleasantly on a scene in
which a young couple were permanently interested, paying some one
to take charge of his cab at the porch door meanwhile. His manly,
pious, fatherly congratulations, good wishes, spontaneously, Christian-
ly given, were among the pleasant associations of the day. It is
said of him, that on Sundays he wore what he regarded as the
Masters's livery, a white necktie. "Tis indubitably true that he
was a just man and devout, honestly battling in life for a small
army of various-sized juvenile recruits for the father's service-
consistent to the sacrifice of a good part of his weekly wage-in
the world, not of it, cheerfully "choosing rather to suffer affliction
with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a
season; esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the
treasures of Egypt; for he had respect unto the recompence of the
reward."
The grace of God be thanked! he, good man, is not the only one in
his wordly occupation who manifests a godly life, as we shall see.
Cabmen have had the privilege, for some years past, of receiving the
visits of simple-hearted men, who have borne, as on angels' wings,
the good, ever-glorious tidings of "peace on earth, good will to-
ward men." The City Mission has special men for this class, and
their work has been much blessed. Good seed has been scattered,
and in many honest hearts it has grown up to the glory of God.
One of these day missionaries has a very large district, which
includes the Great Northern, the Great Eastern, Blackwall, and
Metropolitan Railway stations, and all the city stands for omni-
buses and cabs. By visiting these stations and stands he is able
to drop a word in season; and he does not fail to enter into a
friendly chat with any cabman who may be waiting for a fare at
different places of business. Of course, judiciousness is much
required in this work, but from the way in which he refers to the
results of his labours, you are assured he does not repel by any
untimely conversation. From his reports we learn much that is
·
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1
CC
exceedingly interesting and cheering. He tells us that there are
about 6,000 cabs in London; and of these more than 2,300 are
six-day ones. This was not always the case. Not many years
ago, they were plied on the Sabbath, and the men were thus
debarred from their day of rest. We believe that this cessation
from work on one day in the week has produced very great results,
morally, religiously, and physically, upon those cabmen who are
thus privileged. The missionary will tell you that not only is the
man more cheerful and observant, but he is more capable of serious
thought. There can be no doubt that when men work fifteen hours
or more a day, they should at least enjoy the rest of one day in the
week. "Hard lines, sir, we have," said one cabman, somewhat
dolefully, yet not complainingly, to us, "we never got home before
two o'clock in the morning, and are up at work at six. Our wives
don't see much of us, nor the children ('kids,' I think he called
them) either." Bill," said one of these men to another, in our
hearing, "give us that ere paper; my gal loves reading. Bless yer
'eart, she reads every word of Lloyd's. She would go without her
grub to read." "You wouldn't, would you, Jem?" remarked his
companion. "Lor bless yer, no my boy; let 'em read as likes.
Books isn't in my way." It is the experience of the missionary
that those who work every day alike suffer severely in mind and
body: "They become so bewildered," he says, "as scarcely to know
what they are doing. I know of one man who did not go to bed
for several weeks because his wife had offended him, but worked
his cab continually night and day; and he told me that toward
the latter part of the time his mind was in such a confused state
that he could not tell whether he was putting-to the horse, or taking
him out of harness. Here and there we may find poor men in an
exactly similar state of mind, some even so bad as to require removal
to lunatic asylums. There is one man now at Colney Hatch asylum,
called Black Sam,' whose mental derangement, it is supposed, was
occasioned by overwork and too frequent application to strong drink
as a stimulant." Omnibus men are almost constantly employed, and
their life is one continued scene of bustle. The masters who work
only on week-days are reputed to be the best employers of labour,
and many keep their drivers for a long period, some as long as ten
years.
(
A
DAY CABMEN.
99
*
The day cabmen's missionary can refer you to not a few cases of
usefulness which have occurred during the years he has laboured
among these poor men. His heart is gladdened by finding one here
and there springing up, as evidences of the good done by his humble
ministrations. You take a short walk with him to one of his favour-
ite stands. He will point out men who once were careless and in-
different about divine truth, but who now are rejoicing in the
Saviour's love. "That man, sir," he will tell you, "has been a
blustering scoffer. He would say he didn't believe in a future exist-
ence, and that when we died there was an end of us. He wouldn't
hear the message of salvation. I have known him over twenty years,
and spoken to him many times. God was pleased at length to bless
the conversation I had with him, and pour in upon his awakened
soul his divine light." The missionary sincerely believes in the man's
conversion, and is glad to find that he is an attendant on divine wor-
ship, but he is now waxing old in years, and the infirmities of the
flesh are shaking him. Another cabman, a six-day proprietor and
driver, though at one time one of the greatest drunkards in London
(some considering him to have been without a rival in this terrible
vice), is now a converted man, very anxious for divine knowledge.
"I have met with him," says the missionary,
*( on many differ-
ent stands. Those who are acquainted with him-some of whom
have known him for the last twenty years-are much struck with
the great change which has taken place in him, which is visible
to all." Formerly he laughed to scorn all conversation about
divine things, but now he meets the messenger of good tidings
with a cheerful smile, an open hand, and a thankful heart. He
is a poor scholar, but unlike most poor, uneducated men, he
is anxious to read and study the Scriptures that make men
wise unto salvation. His wife is the better for his change of
heart, and both now attend divine worship. It is a noteworthy and
pleasing fact, that when those who were once reprobates in life are
cleansed by the influence of the Holy Spirit, the home begins to show
signs of a blessed transformation. We have heard many poor men
relate the circumstances of their conversion, and have frequently
been struck with the sincere and honest way in which they have
appealed for confirmation of their story. One invariably hears "Some
of my mates say, 'But am I really converted? Isn't it a Sham ?
-
لیے
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
And I says, 'Ax my wife if I aint'”—an unfailing test, so far as
change of conduct is concerned. Was it not blunt Rowland Hill
who said he would not give a farthing for the religion of a man
whose dog was not the better for it?
The missionary distributes a large number of tracts, and it would
seem that many of these leaflets are sent by the cabmen into all
parts of the country, and not a few to all parts of the world, where
the men happen to have relations or friends. In some cases, the
wives are solicitous about the tracts, which they readily devour.
These facts deserve mentioning, since it is the fashion now-a-days to
ridicule tracts altogether. A well-written tract, with no namby-
pamby lackadaisical sentiment, but manly, devout, and tersely writ
ten, always wins its way to the approval of working men. It is
satisfactory to learn that teetotal principles are becoming better
known and adopted among cabmen than they have ever yet been.
We are informed that "the wonderful reformation as to sobriety in
the cabmen of the metropolis cannot but be observed by the general
public; for, whereas in years gone by, men have frequently observed
many cases of drunkenness in a single day, they now do not meet
with a drunken cabman during their rounds of visitation once in a
month. This is a great step in the right direction, and I believe as
the six-day cabs increase, the drivers will become more temperate
and sober-minded." The following paragraphs from one of this mis-
sionary's reports will further evidence this change :-
men.
"I am thankful to be able to say I can find hundreds of reformed men in the
cab business. Mauy who have been drunkards are now become sober, thinking
Others who were swearers and scoffers at all religion are changed, and
are now quiet attendants on public worship. Numbers who were formerly care-
less are now clean and persevering, very fond of reading, especially the British
Workman,' the illustrations of which catch the eye of even the scoffer and those
out of the way. Many of these men have made enquiries after me, as I have
been unable to see them so often as usual, on account of having hurt my knee-
cap by slipping on some orange-peel, so that I was lame and under the doctor's
hands, and compelled to be on half-time, However, I have great reason to be
thankful to God, for some of the most unlikely men have become awakened,
and have enquired for me.
$
"I find many drivers who were in the habit of drinking to excess have become
staunch abstainers from all intoxicating liquors, thereby rendering their homes
much more comfortable, and their wives and families many degrees happier; for
they have now no cause to dread the arrival of their husbands and fathers,
knowing that they have given over their habits of intemperance. There are
DAY CABMEN.
101
some of these men who are in the habit of attending divine worship; while
others, although not yet visitors at God's house, have become much better bus-
bands and fathers, and more faithful servants. Some of them are proprietors.
This stem of total abstinence never fails to make the man more careful and
attentive to his outward appearance; while at the same time it is a strong
weapon of defence against the temptations of the riders, who in numberless cases
have made the driver drink, who has thus lost his situation, while not a few
have by this source lost their licences, and so become poverty-stricken men, and
unable again to raise themselves."
!
CHAPTER XI.
NIGHT CABMEN.
IT is midnight. A church clock strikes one. Sundry other
Ir
church clocks, far and near, strike one also. Some, with their
wonted courtesy, give warning by a merry peal of bells; others,
open throats, unceremoniously jerk out their message to a sleeping
city. One loud boom from the Clock Tower of Parliament House
comes sweeping past in noisy, yet majestic, rivalry; and its cannon-
roar is followed by a number of pellet-gun shots from adjacent
steeples. Some clocks in the rear, after due and serious reflection,
varying from one to five minutes in length, follow suit. All kinds
of tones contribute to the midnight disharmony; some impart their
information in deep bass, others in clear alto, others in squeaking,
expiring treble; some are loud, some hoarse, others modestly
tinkling and solemnly lingering, as if proud of the opportunity of
adding to people's stock of knowledge, or as if old Father Time had
not quite made up his mind to trouble anyone with his progress.
Sharp, cold winds, deep frost, falling snow! A bitter morning this!
One poor clock, half-frozen, answers affirmatively by striking One.
The city, like a water-wheel at rest, is solemn in its silence; the
cloudy bosom, that has long hoarded its crystallised treasures, fast
unburdens itself, and
"Silent and soft, and slow,
Descends the snow."
The streets are not wholly deserted. Here are the protectors and
the disturbers of the peace; the few drunkards who reel home,
singing for their own amusement, and who are arrested here and
there by the imaginary sight of some gay sprite dancing on the
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snow-flakes as they fall before their path. The rioting youths whose
evenings are spent with spirits, in the cup and in the polluted air,
arm-in-arm, march hurriedly along; while women, both fair-decked
and ill-clad, silently shrink from contact with the falling snow that
sadly reminds them of the purity once theirs, but now for ever gone.
The flakes fall gently on them, as if tenderly seeking to woo them
from their lives of mutiny 'gainst their Creator and his providence.
Cabs dash by, the muffled, drivers ejaculating, in short syllables,
their opinions as to the weather, answering each other indistinctly
enough through their woollen comforters. The passengers have
come from a private party in yonder brilliantly-lighted hotel. Num-
bers of cabmen are waiting outside in the snow for a fare. Music
inside, bustling horse-driving outside; the poor cabmen, shivering
in the cold, half-frozen, hoping that the festivities may speedily close.
'The weather's rather sharp this morning, my friend," observes a
gentlemanly-looking, middle-aged, well-spoken man, to an aged cabman.
Ay, sir; I'm almost froze to death, and I haven't a penny to
get a cup of coffee with.”
(C
(C
Well, here, father, is a penny for a cup of coffee," and the
friendly hand slips the coin between the cold fingers.
"Ah, sir, glad to see you again," cheerfully remarks another aged
cabman, as he heartily grasps the hand of the visitor; "I haven't
forgotten a little conversation we had when the cholera was about;
you read a text out of the Bible, sir, which I tried to shake off, so as
not to think about it; but it followed me wherever I went, and
often when I was on my cab it would come into my mind, and what
you said about it, too. The text was 'Set thy house in order,' &c.,
and it's made me a different man, sir. It made me feel something
like this, 'How is it so many just round about where I live, even.
my next-door neighbours, have been taken away so suddenly by
death, and I am spared.' I pray now, sir, that I may be kept by
the power of God even unto death."
On trudges the missionary. Here is Farringdon Street-a dreary
melancholy-looking deserted thoroughfare; old Fleet prison gateway
(now being pulled down at this moment) frowning moodily upon you.
Here, too, is the cab-rank. Six cabs, but no "cabby" in either of
them. At the end of the rank is a fire-escape, and the six cabmen
are seated upon it. The missionary, whose greatest chance of success
1
NIGHT CABMEN.
103
1
depends on his judicious appropriation of what he sees to illustrate
what he has to say, at once converses with the men, drawing a
vivid and by no means exaggerated analogy between the fire-escape
and the escape from that danger which threatens both body and soul.
In a few minutes a little group is formed, including two policemen,
who were going their rounds, and the missionary, with solemnity
and brotherly earnestness, impresses upon them the importance of
an application to the Saviour of sinners, by whom alone safety was
obtained from everlasting woe; and some seen ed impressed. One
cabman remarked, "I never saw religion so clear before; the
illustration is very true; and I feel there is no time to lose-I trust
I shall think more about another world than I have yet done."
After a weary round of visits, four o'clock is nigh. The missionary
leaves the cab in which he has been sitting, conversing with a driver
on his hopes of future happiness. He reaches the Great Eastern Rail-
way. He always aims to be fifteen minutes with the men before the
arrival of the early mail train. No passenger is to be seen at this
early hour. A death-like stillness pervades the station, and you begin
seriously to doubt whether you are visiting a terminus at all. Every-
thing wears a sombre aspect. The lamp flickers fitfully, as if it were
disposed to adjourn its attendance upon the ghostly scene. The wind
wails terribly. The heavy tread of the policeman, whose steps are
monotonously slow, and cause you to creep shudderingly within
yourself, is relieved now and then by the light cheerful steps of the
labourer who, whistling clearly in the sharp air, hastens on to the
scene of his morning toil. Now, there are one or two lights which
put into the shade the dull flame that almost expired in lonely
solitude. There are no cabmen yet. By-and-by, there is a sound
heard faintly in the distance; then wheels rattle, stones crash, voices
are discerned, salutes are exchanged, and a little company of men
soon assembles. The missionary chats with, them; the porters join
the little band, and at this strange hour the Word of God is
preached. No, not preached-but a few seasonable erangelical
observations are made on some appropriate text of Scripture that
bears on the eternal interests of man. The words are few; the
sentences short; and in a few minutes the quiet scene is exchanged
for one of bustle. The mail has arrived from the General Post
Office. One of the railway officials may now be seen walking very
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quickly down the platform. He has just received a telegraphic
despatch announcing the number of passengers, and how many cabs
are likely to be wanted. The number is not favourable this morn-
ing. Anxiety is visible in the countenances of the poor old cabmen.
They are disappointed this time, for many of them are not wanted.
A whistle is heard. The trains comes in. Porters run hither and
thither. All down the platform there is bustle and excitement,
which appears more intense because more observed at night than in
the daytime. Horses, as well as men, seem to take the cue, and
understand the meaning of the change. Within a short time silence
again reigns, and the station assumes a similar aspect to its former,
solitariness.
There are nearly two thousand night cabmen. They are chiefly old
men, who are less able to drive a cab in the busy streets during
the day than they once were. Like the gossiping weaver's wife who
could never beat her husband except in the morning, because that
was the only time she was at home-the night cabman is only
accessible to the Christian teacher during the hours when ordinary
creation seeks repose. Many of these men are between sixty and
eighty years of age. Some, like that soldier who, with his savage
love of fighting, cared for nothing in heaven or hell, as long as he
had his sword in hand or his pipe in mouth, are utterly regardless of
the future, with its solemn issues. Witnessing nightly scenes revolt-
ing in their glaring wickedness, thrown among the intoxicating
pleasures of sin, they are hardened and thoughtless; many of them
have never entered a place of worship for years. Some have confessed
that, but for the missionaries they would have utterly forgotten that
they had a soul to be saved. They are very docile, remarkably
glad to be taught the message of God's love. And, indeed, the two
missionaries seem greatly attached to them. Being earnestly desir-
ous for their best welfare," and remembering how close death must
be to most of them, these messengers of peace yearn over their souls.
In numbers of instances their efforts have been blessed. Poor old
men, down whose furrowed cheeks the tears of penitence have flowed,
have found in Christ the truest consolation for their wearied hearts.
In the hour of life's eclipse-for death to the Christian is nought
more-they have witnessed a good confession, and have given bright
and glorious testimonics that they had been born again. "Yes sir,
NIGHT CABMEN,
105
•
"difficult as my
said Mr. Salter, one of the missionarics referred to,
task is, I enjoy it; it is where my Master has placed me, and I am
in my right element." Yet, night work in all weathers, he confesses,
has taken seven years' wear out of his constitution, but then he is
seven years nearer Home !
Night public-houses, cab-stands, railway stations, coffee-houses, &c.,
are visited; and tracts are given away, the Word of God is explained
and enforced, and conversations are entered into on the pressing
topic of the soul's salvation. During the months of January and
February, many public and private entertainments are held in
London, and consequently they bring together many cabmen. Such
places are visited. In the summer, tea-gardens and dancing-saloons
attract multitudes of the giddy and the gay, and as the proprietors
of these resorts, in many cases, have special licences to keep open till
a later hour, large numbers of cabmen are to be found there waiting
for fares. "I try," the missionary tells me, "in a kind and faithful
manner to turn all their calamities to good account. Sometimes
they will speak of tyranny and oppression, I would then remind them
that in the service of Jesus Christ there is perfect freedom; that his
yoke is easy and his burden light. Sometimes they will refer to
their hard-earned money, and how difficult it is to lay by for a future
day. I then try to enforce the duty of laying up treasure in heaven,
&c. At other times, they will speak of the lamp agitation, and I
then endeavour to show them that God's word is a lamp, which, by
taking heed thereto, would prove a safe guide through this dark
world to the place where no lamps are needed, because God is the
light thereof." If the weather be wet, the cabmen will seek shelter
and the missionary will get up a talk" about the shelter in the
great day of God's wrath. By these and other seductive arts, so
necessary under the circumstances, the interest of the men is excited,
and they will listen gladly to the gospel.. Prior to the passing of
the Early Closing Act, the cab trade in the Haymarket was exceed-
ingly profitable, inasmuch as it was interwoven with the gross scenes
of wickedness which made that neighbourhood notorious. Now, it
is much less remunerative. At the same time, though vice has
been largely suppressed, so far as outward appearances go, it would
startle the undiscerning public were I to record how cleverly the
law is evaded, and give from the missionary's own lips a description
"
14
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
of scenes about which the less one knows, the less sad one is likely
to become. In visiting these haunts of impurity, where cabmen
make their calls to obtain refreshment, the missionary is seldom
insulted. He has been threatened with violence, but not by the
proprietor, the frail women, or the cabinen. The former, in
nearly every instance, permits the missionary to distribute his
tracts—even those which advocate temperance are not objected to
-and to converse on religious subjects at the bar. On one occa-
sion, a "swell" threatened to strike the missionary. A cabman
overheard the menacing words, and coming up, showed a formidable
pair of fists, close contact with which would be shunned by any one
who had respect to his physique, and elevating them certain degrees
into the air, he offered to show what remarkable ability he had in
flooring an antagonist. "Touch that man, if you dare; he's my
friend; hit him and I'll send yer sprawling on the pavement."
The temptation fled, and the threatened assailant sneaked away,
without even declining to show fight or offering to appoint a more
favourable season for the exhibition of his prowess
تو
It would form a wonderful work if some one could gather together
the cases of remarkable conversions seen after many days as the
result of a godly mother's instructions. She who has been described
as
"A being, seeming sent from heaven among
Mankind, to show what heavenly wonders be,"
has often been the means under the Holy Spirit's direction and in-
spiration, of turning many from darkness unto light. Yet it is not
always --perhaps it is not often-that she lives long enough to witness
the result of her efforts. The only authentic portrait we have of
Dante is a fac-simile drawing of Giotto's fresco portrait, once visible
in the chapel of the palace of the Podesta, in Florence. For years
it was covered with whitewash, and the painter's great masterpiece
was hidden from the world until the whitewash was removed in
1840, and the long-hidden likeness was discovered. So may the
untiring efforts of a mother's pious winning instruction and faithful
counsel be seemingly lost for years, but "the day" shall declare
what may now be hidden. The bread that has been cast upon the
waters shall be seen after many days. This has been proved over
and over again in the experience of the poor aged men of whom we
1
NIGHT CABMEN.
107
are writing.
Listening to the counsels and entreaties of the mis-
sionary, some sentences have been dropped which they have remem-
bered as having been spoken to them by their mothers, even fifty or
sixty years ago. Struck with this fact, they have thought it over,
and the words have so clung to them, wrestling with them with an
earnestness that will not be denied, that they haee cried, "Great
God, I yield-
'Low at thy feet I fall
Subdued by sovereign grace.'
"}
This is perhaps, one of the most distinctive result of the work of the
missionaries: they have brought to remembrance words spoken years
ago, which God has blessed when those who uttered them are “moul-
dering in the dust." Blessed be God for godly mothers! They are
emphatically soul-winners of the noblest, truest type.
In collating some of the spiritual results of the mission to night
cabmen, a difficulty presents itself. Out of a mass of material that
would fill about one hundred pages of this book with interesting
information, one must necessarily give the preference to typical cases,
and representative efforts. I will, therefore select a few such pictures
out of the mass of undigested notes lying before mé.
One cold damp night, a ball was being held in Hanover Square-
rooms, outside of which were at least fifty cabs. The missionary
entered into conversation with several cabmen who were grouped to-
gether, and offered a few remarks on the Pslamist's words,
"But I
am poor and needy, yet the Lord thinketh upon me," impressing on
each man the thought that God cared for the old and grey-haired, the
poor and the distressed. Several of the listeners shed tears copiously,
and begged that the speaker would tell them where that beautiful
verse was, that they might find it out, and think about it when they
got home.
The scene altogether was most affecting, and several men
who were deeply impressed, followed the missionary, just as sea-
birds follow a vessel, if mayhap a few crumbs may fall for their
benefit. On another occasion, at the same place, while the rain was
pouring heavily, the missionary was invited into one of the cabs,
and as many as could squeeze in and stand outside the doors did so,
and in this novel way the third chapter of St.
its lessons enforced. Mr. Salter, the missionary,
has believed, and experienced all that he relates.
John was read, and
speaks as one who
The great power
108
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
<<
of Dante, Macaulay tells us, arose from the fact that he seemed to
"his own
be an eye-witness and ear-witness of what he relates;
hands had grasped the shaggy side of Lucifer," "his own brow had
been marked by the purifying angel." The missionary's success is,
under God, to be attributed to the same cause-the glow of enthu-
siasm, the fervour of sincerity, the sympathy of tenderness, the
authority of a heaven-sent teacher, flash in the eye and sparkle in
the message.
When he speaks to the aged men of Christ, he con-
vinces them that he was no mean prophet. The world, it has been
said, has had many monarchs, but only one Michael Angelo: men
have witnessed many noble deeds of self-sacrificing love, but
greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life
for his friends." This story of the cross is most effective in chang-
ing the lives of these men, who are more arrested by the Saviour's
death than by the marvel of His birth :-
S
"Is it not strange, the darkest hour
That ever dawned on sinful carth
Should touch the heart with softer power,
For comfort, than an angel's mirth :
That to the cross the mourner's eye should turn
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn ?“ -
The missionary holds two meetings each week for cabmen-one
on Sunday and the other on Friday evening. One meeting is held
within quarter of an hour's walk of the great building hallowed to
Englishmen and to thousands by its many sacred associations.
In this room, the average attendance is 35, and good results have
followed the exhortations made to these aged men.
at Waterloo Railway Station, from forty to fifty men will assemble
to listen to the missionary's message. Of these meetings, he gives
me some telling descriptions.
Under the arch
"The time to hold the meeting," he says, "must be arranged by the arrival
of the trains, and the hour of nine is best, as there are no trains expected till
ten minutes to ten. Then I enter the place, which has been fitted up for the
purpose of gaining refreshments expressly for the cabmen. Numbers of them may
be seen conversing together, sometimes rather loudly; but when I open my
Bible everything is laid aside and they all sit very attentively till the meeting is
closed. I generally select a narrative, and endeavour to bring out some of the
great lessons to be derived, giving them the opportunity of asking any question
on the subject afterwards. Here I often find a few Christian cabmen who cheer
me in my work, and I very seldom leave without receiving many expressions of
NIGHT CABMEN.
1
109
{
thankfulness from the men ; and I believe many have often been deeply impress-
ed on the necessity of personal religion. A short time since, I addressed them
from the narrative of the Shunammite woman, who, speaking of the death of her
little child, could say amidst her grief, It is well.' I made some remarks on the
death of little children, and remarked, Perhaps some of yon. like myself, have
had to part with your children. Let me ask you, how did you feel? could you
from your beart say, 'It is well, God bas done right? This touched a very ten-
der chord, for I saw several of them wiping their eyes," &c.
Three cabmen, it appears, were arrested by the message, and, says
the missionary, "In my visitations, I often meet with cabmen who
refer this meeting." The following extract from one of the mission-
ary's reports will be worth reading-
"One wonderful thing that the Early Closing Act has accomplished is to clear
the streets of those hundreds of night-hegging impostors and outcasts who were
to be found huddled together under the porches of theatres, on the stoue seats of
the different bridges, around the National Gallery, and in fact in every available'
spot. These people used to push their way into the night houses, and tell their
pretended tale of woe to half-drunken swells, who would sometimes give them
sixpence or a shilling, which they would spend in gin. When I have warned
them of their sinful course of life, they would clasp their hands, turn up their
eyes, and appeal to God with the greatest lie imaginable on their lips. I know
of no class of people that I so disliked to meet as these, for as soon as I began
to speak to them they would begin to beg, although half drunk. Some of them
had been in good circumstances, and had had a tolerable education, but, like the
prodigal, had spent their substance in riotons living, and were now feeding on
the husks. Many of them lounge about the parks in the daytime, or where they
can find a place of seclusion; and yet even visits to this abandoned class of per-
sous have not been in vain, as the following case will show :—
"Two years ago there was to be seen at the Haymarket by night a person of
dark complexion, a native of South America, who was known among the outcast
and beggars by the name of Yankee. I had several conversations with him, and
found him to be an educated man, and that his father had been possessed of i
large property in America, which fell to him, and which he disposed of and came
to England. Here he fell into bad company, and soon ran through his money,
till by degrees he became utterly destitute of home, food, and almost clothing,
and no man gave unto him. In this condition I found bhim one night, and gave
him a cup of coffee, and ever after I used to speak to him of that Saviour who
came to seek and to save the lost, which appeared to make a deep impression on
his mind. All at once I lost sight of poor Yankee, till I went to the May Meet-
ings last May, and found a copy of the 'Revival' paper on one of the seats, which
contained an account of my old friend. It stated that as he was walking up
Whitechapel on one occasion, he wandered into a meeting, which led to his
conversion to Almighty God, and being an educated man, he was afterwards
ordained to go as a missionary abroad, and while giving an account of his
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ENGLISIIMEN AT HOME.
conversion he related the kinduess he received from the missionary, in connexion
with other things, as having led to his decision for the Lord Jesus Christ.
May not one sincerely hope that there are other instances in which good bas
been done among this class of persons, although it may never be known til the
great day of reckoning ?"
Here is another noticeable case:
"On another occasion a pugilist gave me his address, told me that when a
little boy, his mother used to teach him his prayers, some of which he repeated
to me, and said he often wept when he thought of his sinful course of life. He
told me he had got the best wife in the world, but he treated her like a brute.
I talked to the poor fellow till he wept like a child, and he took hold of my
arm and said, 'You shall go home with me to-night.' I begged to be excused,
as it was now three o'clock in the morning. However, there was no alternative
so off I went with him, arm-and-arm. He called his poor wife up, although ↑
wished him not to do so, but so far from being angry when she saw that my
object was to try and reform her husband, she thanked me with tears in her eyes.
He promised by God's help to seek to lead a new life, and give his heart to God.
As I had a Testament in my pocket I gave them it, and we knelt down and
prayed for God's blessing on our meeting. I went home musing on the event
which had occurred, and could not help feeling that the Lord had directed my
steps back with the man. I have called since, and find that by trade he is a
sawyer. He is now working at his trade, is a teetotaller, and in a hopeful state
of mind."
gag
The conversions do not seem to be frequently immediate. The men's
consciences are arrested; their attention is awakened; they go home
and meditate, or think over what they have heard while seated on
their cabs; and so are led to pray, and to confide in the Hearer and
Answerer of Prayer. The tracts are thankfully received and well
pondered over; homely truths, appropriately uttered, and suitably
applied, have a magic force with them; while what some are ever
regarding as the common-places of evangelical teaching, strike their
minds with freshness and beauty. Their profession of Christianity
is charming in its naked simplicity. They do not attain to great
knowledge; and beginning only at the close of life's history to expe-
rimentally to work out the first formulas of the divine life, they do
not gain those deeper and richer acquaintances with truth which
characterise believers who have been long taught of God. Yet they
live with bright, cheerful prospects; and die with the calm, restful
assurance of eternal enjoyment of heavenly blessings. Here they are
soldiers, training in God's military academies there they cease the
conflict and enjoy blissful repose. Or, using a figure of old Master
NIGHT CABMEN.
111
Brooks, they see their loved Lord, "in all his heavenly bravery, and
in all his divine embroidery and bespangled glory." "For now,"
saith the apostle, "we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to
face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am
known."
CHAPTER XII.
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
THE air is still. Breezes had taken their summer holiday, as if
pong with frolicking around the thousands of angles and corners of
this irregular-shaped London, and meeting only the pestilential
odours which abound in courts and alleys, in yards and dens.
This
murky, close atmosphere, so allied to fevers, cholera, and distempers,
brings out the pallid-faced people from the garrets and bedrooms,
where year after year they strive to breathe sufficient oxygen to
maintain life, into the streets and doorsteps of all crowded districts.
Seven Dials was a scene of many-typed life. Here were the young
and gay, frivolous and sad, careworn and careless, dark and fair, ill-
clothed and well-clothed, mothers with babies nestling asleep, worn
out with crying; diminutive-looking, squalid, unkept children-the
boys noisy and roguish, the girls stupidly indifferent, with their
heads propped up by their mother's lap or by the doorpost. There
were Trish and there were Scotch, but the "chatter, mainly from the
teeth outwards,” seemed too outlandish for either. Here there was a
knot of rough-haired, unbonneted women, with short dresses, flash
birds-eye handkerchiefs thrown over their shoulders for shawls, and
hobnail boots; there, a number of vagrants slouching, dirty, smoking,
as if waiting for strong incitement to lead them to activity. On one
side of the pavement groups of idlers were gazing on the idlers on
the opposite side. Ill-dressed, battered-face girls were stalking up
and down, grinning here and there, while lads were joking, laughing,
swearing, and whistling. Black eyes, red noses, flattened faces,
thick lips, cut lips, scarlet, blotchy heads, entangled hair, twisted
and curled by the exigencies of life,-all were here mixing with a
crowd of men and women whose aggregated lives represent a mass
of sin, wretchedness, and want, which eye hath not seen nor ear
heard.
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
Not far from the centre of Seven Dials may be seen a pebble-
paved court, surrounded with stables, cowhouses, &c. Up this court
there is a common lodging-house for thieves, tramps, beggars, cross-
ing-sweepers, patterers, song-singers, herb and other vendors. •Be-
hind the house there is a low barn-like building, on the floor of
which is a kitchen. Yes, a thieves' kitchen-a dirty, speckled, ill-
ventilated, ill-lighted, oblong large room, full of odours arising from
dust, tobacco, and smoke, closeness, cooked potatoes, steaming tea,
and stale-smelling ber. A room with plastered walls, here and
there showing signs of having been injured in some unknown way
or other, with no traces of whitewash, but every trace of vermin
and filth. There was one long bench stretching across the room,
and another against the old-fashioned farm-house fire that was blazing
so merrily. There were over a dozen men in the room. One old
man was huddled up against the fire, "all of a heap," drunk, but
all the others were sober. There was a rough-looking navvy, who
would have made three of the writer-a man whom one would fly
from in a dark lonely thoroughfare. He was quietly sipping a basin
of tea. Several were busily engaged in scraping new potatoes,
which they did most economically, and without injuring, as all ama-
teurs would probably do, the external appearance of that esculent
root. Some had a pot of ale and a pipe, others looked as if they
would like to have the same. Nearly all had evidently passed the
middle age of life, and some seemed not far from that bourne from
whence no traveller returns.
"Good evening, gentlemen," said our friend Mr. P, who
preaches at various times with others in this den.
"How are you
all? Haven't seen you a long while. Where have you been?"
heartily grasping the hand of one or two men, who were greatly
gratified at our visit. The big man in the smock looked sullenly on
and sipped his tea. The drunken old man at the fireside pricked up
his ears, tried to show sings of mental equilibrium, and of course
utterly failed. He professed great respect for "Misther P," and
claimed a long acquaintance with that "gintleman." While the
others were invited to an entertainment at the Mission Hall, in Moor
Street, the wretched old fellow was assured that the honour of his
company would be unsolicited for that evening. Poor man, he con-
fessed he had had a drop too much, but treated it as a failure of
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES,
113
ordinary occurrence, and one to which no great shame was attached.
Ultimately we parted with these "gentlemen," with the assurance
that several would pop in and occupy a seat at Mr. M'Cree's Mis-
sion Hall that evening.
"Misther P—————,” said a voice behind us as we were turning down
the passage leading through the stables to another lodging-house. It
proceeded from a good Christian man who had lived for many years
in this place, and who was now a member of Mr. Brock's church in
Bloomsbury. "I have been thinking," said this good man, (who by
the-bye obtains his precarious living by selling erbs which he has
to gather in the country) "and asking myself, "What is the greatest
power on earth?" The result of that day's contemplations was that
the name of Jesus was "the greatest power in the world, for," add-
cd the good old man, "'at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow,""
&c. &c., which he went on in his simple thoughtful way to explain.
Why does this man still live in such a den? Because it is cheap
and he is poor. Fourpence a night for sleeping and cooking accom-
modation is as much as a poor herb-seller can afford. Besides, he is
of great service for his Master there. When a tramp or thief is ill,
he attends his bedside and prays for him. He reports needy cases
to Mr. M'Cree, and acts as a trustworthy authority in the den.
The second kitchen we entered seemed to be more respectable,
although we are assured that more dishonest persons live there than
in the first place we visited. The men were much younger, and were
probably nearly all thieves. There were two lads of say fifteen
years of age most respectably dressed: no doubt they had fallen into
disgrace by robbing their employers, or running away from home.
They get their livelihood in the best, or rather in the worst, way
they can. Most of the men who live in these lodging-houses were
at one time in respectable positions in society, but having fallen
from the paths of rectitude they have been brought to this degraded
life. A very old man, with a most genial face, had been a French
senator, knew some nine or ten languages, and had been banished
in the time of the French Revolution. A few years ago he returned
to his native country, but during the trial of Felice Orsini for the
attempted assassination of the Emperor, he was apprehended on
suspicion, and as a refugee had his goods confiscated and was ban-
ished. Coming to England, he, an old man, without a penny in his
15
114
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME,
4
pocket-what could he do but resort to the cheapest lodging-house?
He ekes out existence by selling nightingales, which he catches by
means of a most ingenious trap. This trap, with its springs, is a
marvel in its way; and the poor old man showed it to us with feel-
ings of pride.
It may be added that altogether there are about two hundred of
these lodging-houses in London, some of which are low haunts for
lascivious boys and girls of from twelve to twenty years of age. In
the majority of them missionaries are allowed to enter, and those
who conduct themselves in a judicious manner are always listened
to with great attention. There are eleven. lodging-houses under
visitation by the "Bloomsbury Mission," about six of which are
under tolerably decent management. We were most respectfully
treated on the occasion of our visit, and it is the testimony of all
Mr. M'Cree's helpers that they are never insulted. Services are
conducted in the kitchens at various times, and the word of God has
been blessed to many out of these migratory tribes.
The history of Mr. M'Cree's mission may soon be told.
In 1848,
the Rev. W. Brock came to London, followed in a few days by Mr.
M'Cree; they were both intimate friends, and were destined to see
honourable and active but different work. Mr. Brock preached in
Bloomsbury Chapel, and Mr. M'Cree sauntered alone to St. Giles.
Arriving at a barber's shop in Short's Gardens, he commenced talk-
ing of the Lord Jesus Christ to those present. That was the origin
of the mission.
F
In the course of time a Temperance Hall, situated in King Street,
was obtained, and one Tuesday evening Mr. Brock had the satis-
faction of opening the hall by preaching a sermon to a congregation
consisting of twenty-four persons, from the words, "This is a faith-
ful saying, and worthy of all acceptation," &c. On the first Sabbath
evening, Mr. M'Cree preached to eighty persons from the words,
The common salvation." This was seventeen years ago.
Here is a contrast. There are now two Mission halls. That in
King Street will hold-say three hundred persons, but the larger
hall in Moor Street, where Mr. M'Cree constantly preaches, accom-
modates five hundred. Both are frequently filled to overflowing,
and it has often been the case that numbers have not been ablę to
gain admittance. The hall in Moor Street was originally a Swiss
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
115
chapel; it has galleries all round, a deep broad pit, and a high
platform. There are moveable seats, and the general appearance of
the place is, if not altogether cheerful, comparatively comfortable.
Two separate services are held in each building for Sunday
scholars. There are two Temperance Societies connected with
the mission, two Bands of Hope, two penny banks, three Mothers'
Meetings, a singing class-and the choir is an interesting feature
-a sewing class, a Bible and book society, by which the poor
can, for a weekly trifle, obtain a good Bible or a religious book ;
two lending libraries-(the books we found to be well-thun bed,
and the paper covers black)
covers black); Bible classes for young men
and women, prayer meetings, open-air preaching, cottage prayer
meetings, Sabbath afternoon visitation of the poor, and teaching in
lodging-houses, a society for the relief of the sick, religious services
in the week evenings, popular entertainments, consisting of singing,
lectures, magic lanterns, &c. Besides all these, there are the usual
enquirers' meetings, conducted by Mr. M'Cree and others, and the
services on Sunday and Wednesday evenings in King Street Mission
Hall, at which Mr. G. Hatton preaches. In this hall early prayer
meetings have been held in the summer months, and two prayer meet-
ings a week have taken place in the homes of the poor, at which many
who would not think of attending the hall services have heard the
gospel tidings. Scarcely any of these meetings have been unattended
with some case of blessing. This paragraph summarises an amount
of work which could not be done by one person. There are many
engaged in it, and one or two leading spirits energise the whole.
There are separate organizations which work as far as possible in dis-
tinct grooves. And when the helpers meet together, as they were
good enough to do for the assistance of the writer in this his task,
they are all surprised at the varied operations and successes of their
work. The popular entertainments are specially useful in keeping
the poor from the gin shops, and in bringing them under superior
attractions. Indeed, many who attend one evening out of curiosity,
or for warmth or cheerfulness, come again, and so are brought within
the sound of the gospel.
Mr. M'Cree has been designated the Bishop of St. Giles; and if
there be any honour in the title, no man more deserves to wear it.
In every way he has caught the old apostolic spirit, and it is gratifying
[V
;
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ENGLISIIMEN AT HOME.
to observe how thoroughly he has learned to understand the wants
and to sympathize with the difliculties of the nomad wandering tribes
of English heathens to whom he ministers the truth of Jesus., Next
to the perpetual presence of Christ a greater blessing could scarcely
be desired by a church than to have connected with it, for essentially
aggressive work in outlying poor populations, a man of Mr. M'Cree's
mental calibre and gifts. One excellent feature of his character is
decision---a characteristic firmness which demands the respect of work-
ing men. His nan has never been mentioned without the prefix
..
Mr.," even by those who are accredited with but little attention to
even ordinary distinctions. But this would not be the case unless a
spirit of gentlemanly sympathy were evinced to the most degraded.
Kindness goes nearer to the heart than charity, and a courteous be-
haviour seldom loses its reward. The poor people of St. Giles are
acquainted with Mr. M'Cree's genuine and unaffected nature and
transparent motives, and honest purposes command respect every-
where but in the most blasted of natures, withered by self-love or
self-importance. The reader need not be surprised to learn that even
thieves and ticket-of-leave men can trust Mr. M'Cree. We give an
exact copy of a license which has to be presented at the police-office
once a month, supplying, of course, a fictitious name, and omitting
some of the circumstances. The certificate, which is of parchment,
has been tolerably well-thumbed, and looks as if it had been carried
about in the convicts' pockets. Some of the reformed convicts liv-
ing in the neighbourhood entrust Mr. M'Cree with their certificate
until the day arrives when they have to show it before the proper
authorities.
Order of License to a Convict, made under the statutes 16 and 17 Vic., chap. 99,
sect. 9, and 20 and 21 Vic., chap. 3.
Whitehall.
day of-
1-863.
'
HER MAJESTY is graciously pleased to grant to JOSEPH SPROUTS, in
the Portland Prison, who was convicted of stealing from the person, at the Ses-
sions of the Peace held at Clerkenwell, for the County of Middlesex, on the--
day of-
and was thence sentenced to Penal Servitude for the Term
of Seven Years, Her Royal License to be at large in the United Kingdom, from
the day of his liberation under this Order during the remaining portion of his
said Term of Penal Servitude, until it shall pleasc HER MAJESTY sooner to
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
117
revoke or alter such License. And HER MAJESTY hereby orders that the said
JOSEPH SPROUTS be set at liberty within Thirty days from the date of this Order.
Given under my hand and seal,
(Signed)
True Copy:
G. GREY.
J. M. GAMBIER.
Director of Concict Prisons.
The following is the Certificate for well-conducted men discharged
on License:
Joseph Sprouts.
Born at London.
Aged 44.
Period In Separate or other Confinemout
passed) On Public Works
Date-
ის
Years
do.
Original Trade or Occupation, Costermonger.
Prison Trade,
Labourer.
These are to certify that his conduct under Penal Servitude has been as
follows:-
(On Public Works,
Exemplary,
In other Confinement, Very good..
Given without erasure.
Months.
do.
A. H. SUTHERLAND,
Acting Governor of Broadmoor Prison.
On the back of the first document, there is a description of the person,
and a notice of the conditions under which it has been granted.
These need not be reproduced.
The Mission Hall in Moor Street on a Sabbath evening presents a
striking appearance. It is always well filled. The congregation is
indicative of the neighbourhood. There are clean and tidy people,
and there are a few to whom soap and water seem needless luxuries.
Some are decked out in their best, some in their only apparel. A
few ill-conditioned, half-starved, poorly-clad persons might have
been discerned in some of the back seats, but nearly all were better
dressed and more respectable in appearance than one would have
expected. Mr. Lewis's smaller congregation in Spitalfields had a
much more deplorable appearance. The singing was earnest, some-
times passionate, but excellent. The prayer was uttered with great
fervency, and was responded to in subdued tones of earnest feeling.
The sermon was from the solemn words, "A form of godliness."
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
What most astonished us was the large number who remained to the
after-sermon prayer-meeting. At least one-half the congregation
were present, and the meeting was of a most interesting and soul-
stirring character. No honest Christian heart could refuse to thank
God for granting so much gospel light, love and holy joy, in so dark
and benighted a district. As soon as this meeting was over, Mr.
M'Cree visited a Servants' Home to conduct family worship, a ser-
vice which is of an unusually interesting character.
If the reader antcipates a glowing description of results, and a
table of statistics, he will be grievously disappointed. Statistics
such as those published by certain revivalistic papers are invariably
dangerously delusive. They give no adequate idea of God's work;
nor are they to be depended on for accuracy. Conversions may be
numbered, and remarkable cases may be described. So far so good;
but, as daily experience teaches us, the operations of the Holy
Spirit are often as silent as they are efficacious. "After many days"
the seed shows us how deeply it has taken root; but were we to al-
ways obtain direct results from evangelistic efforts, there would be
but little living by faith, and much more walking by sight. This is
more especially the case in those missions to the wandering tribes of
London we have described in this book. These tramps come and
The word of counsel, the
go, and are perhaps heard of no more.
message of salvation, the earnest, cheerful and loving entreaty do
not utterly fail: "For my word shall not return unto me void, but
shall accomplish" the very purpose for which almighty love design-
ed it. Fruit after many days-let us expect it, those who preach
with their pen, those who show forth the riches of grace with match-
less eloquence, and those also who stammer forth His praise. Let
it not be supposed, however, that Mr. M'Cree's mission is without
good, -lasting results. Few men have been more blessed of God.
Few have received greater comforts from the results of past labours,
and more encouragement to renewed efforts.
Mr. M'Cree is a man of strong temperance principles, who winks
not at those peccadilloes which unfortunately many Christian men
With him total abstinence is a
are apt to look upon as harmless.
great power, and he treats it as a great means to a nobler end. And
facts attest the immense advantage of the adoption of this principle
among those who are tempted to indulge in strong drink. We heard,
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
119
at the entertainment given by Mr. M'Cree, from the cheerful voices
of nearly five hundred persons, the lustily-sung chorus-
:
"For I'm happy all the day since I threw the glass away,
And I'll never take to drinking any more;
With water from the fountain flashing in each sunny ray,
I have health and I have happiness in store."
And the appearance of many who entered into the noiseful song, as
compared with the rags and tatters of their former lives, was a
strong argument for Mr. M'Cree's favourite principle of thorough
abstinence. The degradation which drunkenness entails on its vic-
tims, the fearful hardening tendency of this vice, which brings in
its train the direst evils, and the amount of infamy which it en-
courages, prove how elephantine is this curse. Mr. M'Cree was
once visited by a girl who had been in prison ten times for drunken-
ness. We, ourselves, met with a woman who had been in prison
between sixty and seventy times, had spent the best part of her
life in gaol for indulging in this vice, a woman whose life in confine-
ment was so exemplary that every one commiserated her, and yet
whenever we take up a certain provincial newspaper, the heading,
"Ann Gardner again," in italics, is nearly always there. For such
inveterate cases confinement in an asylum, as the Freeman only re-
cently proposed, would be an act of mercy. But even this would
not touch the core of the evil, for it glares upon us everywhere and
defies uppression.
We enquired whether Mr. M'Cree had ever been insulted in any
way whilst engaged in his mission. The answer we give you in his
own words: "I never knew what it was to be openly insulted. On
a certain occasion I was passing along Seven Dials, when a young
thief thought it would be a capital joke to pick my pocket. He
walked behind me, and was just going to make the attempt, when
a woman who lived with a swell-mobsman saw him, and immediately
came behind me, gave him a tremendous' smack in the face which
sent him reeling against the wall, as a punishment for his imperti-
nence." Mr. M'Cree gave us another instance, which also we give,
so far as we can, in his own words :—"I was preaching in the open
air in Seven Diais one Sabbath morning, at a time when the streets
were up for the laying of new sewage-pipes, and a young man, a
stranger in the neighbourhood, was passing by, and stopped to hear
me preach. A blacksmith saw him stoop down and pick up half a
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CC
brick, and he then lingered towards the spot where I was addressing
the people. The blacksmith observed the young man's motions, and
quietly followed him and kept his eye on the position of the half
brick. The man continued to listen to my sermon, and when I had
closed he very quietly opened his hand and dropped the missile on
the ground. The blacksmith, in relating the circumstance to me,
assured me that he was quite prepared to seize the young fellow's
hand if he made any attempt to throw the brick." Another case.
Mr. M'Cree, visited the death-bed of the celebrated prize-fighter,
Champion of all England," Harry Broome. As he lay on his bed, he
told Mr. M'Cree that he heard him preaching one day in Seven.
Dials, and he saw there some men who were disposed to make a dis-
turbance. He went up to the men and said "I won't allow you to
insult that gentleman." "Oh," answered they, scornfully, "who
are you? You are only Harry Broome." Harry Broome or not,
I'm not going to let you distrub that gentleman, and if you do I'll"-
not show you the force of my physical eloquence-"have you lock-
ed up in Bow Street." Thus God protects his servants. Perfect
order is generally kept in Seven Dials when Mr. M'Cree is preaching.
:
C
Bata at
CHAPTER XIII.
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
OXFORD Street-one of the main arteries o London fashionable life
-occupies a prominent position in the map of Vanity Fair. Walk-
ing through it in the daylight, and especially through that portion
denominated New Oxford Street, we are in the midst of fashion, fop-
pery, frizzed hair, chignons, long-trailing skirts, the richest attire,
the superbest carriages, the gayest life; we are surrounded by the
most pretentious appearances, and the most assuming airs, for here
and there we have aspiring hoses, scornful looks, affected movements,
curious inspections of others' millinery vagaries, dressmaking whims,
and butterfly fancies, created for the hour to be disarranged the
next
Only half-a-dozen steps, and what a violent contrast! We have
left high life behind, and are in the arena of the lowest low life. We
are in the Rookeries-once, when its companion alleys were in exist-
ence, the terror of the honest folk, the perpetual bugbear of the
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
121
street-protectors, the resort of law-depredators and of criminals of
deepest dye-a true City of Refuge, with, not many years ago, iron
gateş at its entrance, beyond which no man who respected either the
crown of his head or the sole of his foot dare enter, for the one would
certainly be broken and the other tripped, unless a full deliverance
were speedily rendered of all marketable and convertible things to
appease the lawless cries of these criminal horse-leeches. The Rookery
is a remnant of past days, when the followers of Jack Sheppard, on
their way to some bold enterprise, would ride through with acclama-
tions, and quench their thirst at the tap where their sad earnings
were mostly spent. But it is only a remnant, smaller doubtless than
å certain class would wish it to be, yet significant of what its past
history must have been. I wonder what those fashionably-dressed
waiters upon the upper class customers in Oxford Street must think
-surely think they must of the contrast between high life and
low life which daily meets their view. From the front rooms of
their well-arranged, gorgeous marts, may be seen all the apishness of
ultra-refinement and overstrained good breeding; from the back, all
the filth and degradation which humanity in a civilised nation can
well have. Let us attempt to draw the picture. We are in an irre-
gular, narrow, street of old, ricketty, smudged, parti-coloured, dingy
hovels. Out of the windows of the first and second storeys, short
poles, attached by strings on either side to the wall, and serving for
clothes' props and lines, are protruding like so many masts-present-
ing the appearance of a gala-day in King Poverty's dominions-with
smoky-white, tattered and torn rags that have seemingly done duty
for aye, suspended as flags. In the road-walk it carefully-we see
filth of kinds which delicacy forbids to describe-vegetable refuse,
manure, sludge and soap-suds. On the pavement, sitting, sprawling,
standing, are women and children of careless attire, with clattering
tongues, discoloured faces, and many-tinted, strong-smelling clothes;
the women with broad, hard, disfigured, flattened, expressionless
faces, and the children growing not only in vice and in devotion to
uncleanliness, but also in brutality of features and of actions. Leave
nervousness of Oxford-street, and summon up courage to pierce your
way through this unearthly maze. You are stared at, and consigned
where God be thanked his mercy will never permit us to go.
Some of the gentler sex, with arms a-kimbo, growl deeply like
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
→
ventriloquists. By some of the sterner manhood we, gentle reader,
inoffensive and harmless as we are, are looked upon with suspicion as
if we were a policeman in disguise--to us an uncomfortable suspi-
cion, which might have been extremely unpleasant but for the pro-
tecting daylight. Up one court, down another, looking in this cor-
ner, then in that-" Come Jem, they're cracks," or, according to
interpretation, sanitary inspectors or swells. Still onward-through
mud and stench, up a stone-paved alley, leading to whitewashed over-
crowded dens, outside of which were half-nude squalid children roll-
ing over each other; noting here a lodging-house at three-pence a
night; and there a beer-house, patronised by the best quality-not
of liquors, but of residents. Onward still, up another alley, whose
houses seem as though they would fall with a shake, with shutters
closed, windows broken; then into the street again, to meet another
regiment of female squatters. Look below, there are dark, damp
kitchens, filled with human beings, of all degrees of destitution and
wretchedness-of one prevailing type of ignorance. Look on the
ground floor, and in the midst of a worthless miscellany of maimed
and mutilated furniture-beds, tables, seats, cracked mugs and jugs,
headless, armless, shapeless ornaments, broken all in various ways.
may be seen fowls and dogs, boys and girls, mothers and infants.
Above, first and second floor, heads are peering out on the scene
below. Everywhere you behold the seeds of disease and of premature
decay, the offspring of sinful neglect, of vice and drunkenness.
The inhabitants of this street and its arterial branches are mostly
·low Irish, costermongers, and vagabonds. The costers sort their
fruit-some of the peaches, apples, &c., are sold in the most respect-
able parts of London-in the middle of the street, hence the refuse.
It is impossible that they can have any sensible appreciation of the
laws of cleanliness, and to those who understand their habits it is a
mystery how sanitary inspectors can manage to keep the houses as
clean as they are.
*
* Murder ! "still again, "Murder !"-yet again louder and
louder, till the cry is echoed and re-echoed by lusty throats in the
street" Murder !" It is Sunday night; darkness has covered the
light of Heaven. There is a crowd-a noisy, excitable, vicious as
semblage" of the great unkempt, unwashed, irreligious residents of
1
*
*
14.
*
*
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}
the Rookeries. The noise proceeds from a bedroom in a most deso-
late-looking lodging-house. Opposite, in a room containing seven or
eight beds, each accommodating two and three persons of both sexes,
a siek-visitor tending to the wants of one Bridget, fallen ill, hears
the oft-repeated shriek of "Murder!" He ventures down the creak-
ing stairs, into the street, and enquires the cause of the distress.
"Murther was being done," answered some dogged, ill-conditioned
lookers-on. "Why don't you go and stop it? Will any gentleman
go upstairs with me?" There was no response
"Give me a light,
I will go myself." "No, don't, you'll be murthered." But he went,
burst open the door, and ran upstairs. One man was brandishing a
poker, and trying to force his way into the second floor bedroom,
which had been bolted and secured by the women inside. The in-
truder was struck at with the poker, but the blow fell short.
"Halloo, Tim, is that the way in which you salute your best
friend?" The maddened man was staggered, sat down on the stairs,
and wiped his bleeding forehead. "If the Lord Jesus Christ hadn't
sent me here, Tim, there would have been murder done, and your soul
would have been lost." At the mention of Christ's name, Tim made,
as all true Irish Catholics do, blackguards as they may be, the sign
of the cross. "Tim, my boy, don't go on so. What is the matter?
Come home along with me, and let us talk it over." The visitor
succeeded in getting him home, and apparently the man seemed
quieted, and so our friend left him to fulfil his duties in the sick
room.
What
Another cry of "Murther," and yet another. Tim has got back
to the scene of his murderous exploits. The poker was being va-
poured in the air again, and again Tim was persuaded to leave the
house. With light in hand, upstairs went our friend, and found a
man beating the door from the inside to get out to execute his de-
signs upon his offending brother Tim. As he broke the door the
bottom panels fell out. The visitor put in his candle. The infu-
riated Irishman fell back for a moment staggered, and so allowed
the heroic intruder to creep into the room. "Dan, my boy, what
are you doing? Jesus Christ has sent me here (here a mechanically-
made sign of the cross by both man and woman) to stóp you com
mitting murder." The man was calmed, the poker was laid aside,
· and a lesson was patiently listened to in which the visitor, who was
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believed at the time to be a "praste," enforced the necessity of
brotherly love and forbearance, instancing Peter's asking the Great
Master how many times he was to forgive his brother. The name of
Peter acts as a charm in teaching the ignorant Irish Catholic, for if
he does not understand one principle of religion, he knows St. Peter
-the rock on which the church is built. And so-to make a long
story short-the quarrel was put an end to, the probable consequences
averted, and an abiding lesson inculcated.
And all was due to the heroism of one of Mr. M'Cree's most use-
ful helpers-one of the most singular visitors it has been our good
fortune to meet with in our wanderings. This Mr. S. G
-has,
since his joining Mr. Brock's church at Bloomsbury Chapel, devoted
his leisure time to visiting the sick, and the way in which this is
done, and the methods he employs to win souls to the Blessed Christ
of God can be best described by the apostle when he cynically retorts,
"nevertheless, being crafty, I caught you with guile" (2 Cor. xii.
16); or when he asserts the usefulness of any means-"that I might
by all means save some." (1 Cor. ix. 22.) As an instance of this
craftiness in engaging the attention, I will give two anecdotes.
One Sabbath evening our friend was distributing tracts on Seven
Dials, when he saw a dirty-looking fellow with a pipe in his mouth,
and a dog under his arm, and having his boots blacked. The follow-
ing conversation ensued :—
"Good morning, my friend, will you have a little book ?”
The stranger stretching out his hand, with a look of surprise cried
out, "Halloo !"
A.
From some reason or other-known to no one, not even himself—
our friend cried out "Halloo !" also.
"How long have you been up to this dodge?" asked the dirty-
looking man with a dog under his arm.
"About three years," yas the answer of the man with the tracts
in his hand.
"Does it pay?" shrewdly asked the inquisitive stranger.
"Very well indeed."
"Oh yes—anything for an honest living; you may as well do this
as anything else."
"Well, rather,” replied G
"for Satan finds some mischief
still for idle hands to do."
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
125
"You said it paid well?”
"First rate."
"If it is a fair question to put, what do they stand ?”
"A crown."
"A crown!" (drawing up his breath with surprise). "Not so bad
either," thinking that a crown a-day was meant.
"The pay safe, of course?”
"Certainly."
“Does it want any introduction to get into it?”
"No; simply apply at the fountain head, and if you suit you'll be
taken on directly."
"I suppose it's pretty lasting?"
"For life, if you are faithful."
"Then there's no fear of your getting the sack?”
"No. If you are ever so old, they'll never turn you off. Even
then, there's a house to live in and a new coat."
CL
Well, it's a first-rate affair, and I should like to have a turn at
it myself. Do you think I should suit ?”
"Yes. I never knew a case yet where one sincerely applied that
was refused.
But you had better apply to the fountain head."
"Oh, of course I should go to the guv'nor. Where do you apply?"
"TO KING JESUS." The spell was broken, and the man took his
pipe out of his mouth, and gave a significant whistle. Mr. G.
whistled too, and after a pause said, "Look here, my boy. I've served
the devil for thirty-six years, and was faithful to him. Now I am
serving Jesus Christ. He gives me good wages, has prospered me,
has promised me a crown of glory, a robe of righteousness, and a
mansion to dwell in. If that isn't worth working for, I don't know
what is. Good bye.”
*
*
*
*
A steamboat was sailing from Margate to London. It was much
crowded with passengers, who had spent the day in jollification.
There was a party of fast young men, sitting at the forepart of the
vessel, singing all the popular songs of the day, and proclaiming
amidst the great approval of those by whom they were surrounded,
the meanness of their origin and habits-they were "jolly dogs."
As soon as a slight interval ensued, some faithful Christian man
.walked up to the said jolly dogs and began to speak to them of the
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attractiveness of the love of the God-man. He was immediately
hounded and hooted. Determined not to be put down, he raised
himself on a barrel and began to speak more earnestly. He was
thereupon received with redoubled scorn, and another comic song was
called for.
+
Gwho had quietly watched these proceedings, here stepped
up, and asked them whether they would like a good recitation.
There were cries of " Hear, hear, hear," and "He's a jolly good
fellow," He's one of us." He thereupon gave them a simple ditty,
known as "The Lady and the Pie,' which thus commenced-
"To the hall of the feast came the sinful and fair,
For she heard in the city that Jesus was there;
She marked not the splendour that blazon'd the board,
But quietly knelt at the feet of her Lord."
The countenances of the wild young fellows dropped, and they
began to look upon him with suspicion. At the conclusion of the
verses, one of them said, "Oh, he's another religious hypocrite!"
and another, "Button up your pockets," while another added assur-
ingly, "That's what I always do." "They're a set of villains and
clergyman is a thief," for clergyman is the incarnation of every evil
with those vapid minds who despise God and religious men." Our
friend tried to reason with the rabble crew, as to the decency of their
conduct toward the good man who had endeavoured to benefit them
by his good advice. He said it was a good thing for some of them
who had stigmatized God's people as villains that his Gentile jacket
had been taken off him, or he would have thrashed them. For our
friend has known what it is to fight fairly and openly in his unre-
generate days. Having called them an ignorant lot, the rabble of
the world, and by other uncomplimentary metaphors, he commenced.
to unlock the riddle, by saying that he had caught them like the
apostle did others in his days with guile, and thus he preached Jesus
the Saviour of the rabble, even for two hours, no signs of weariness
and no interruption being shown. They were cooled down, and at
the end of the voyage many shook him by the hand, begged his pardon,
and assured him that they would never forget the circumstance to
the end of their lives.
✔
Pe
A popular impression seems to prevail among those who are some- -
what fascinated by the symbolism of Roman Catholicism, or who at
least hope better than some of us can for the influence of a vivid
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
127
externalism, that hidden under much that is superstitious there is a
layer of granitic truth which forms a sure basis on which to erect a
purer religious system. Unfortunately this is far from a realized
fact. Impressible and intelligent natures may be affected by mere
symbolism, although the Christianity which is the result of regenera-
tion "profiteth nothing" under the most significant ritualism. But
with the people-the mass, almost untold in numbers-who are accre-
dited with the devoutest feeling toward "Holy Church" there is no
affinity between symbolical circumstances and piritual intelligence.
Now there are two contending forces in Seven Dials which are always
coming into violent contact. There are a large number of most
intelligent professed sceptics and an equally large-perhaps larger
-class of Romanists who profess to have some sort of aptitude for,
arguing about the truths of religion. The sceptics always get the
best of the wrangle because they know most of the Scriptures, while
the Romanist scarcely ever reads the Inspired Volume. The latter
are reckoned amongst the ignorant who (according to the Missal) are
not permitted to read the Word of God, lest they wrest it to their
own destruction. Our eccentric friend does battle with these Roman-
ists in a most scientific way, and even among the sceptics he has had
some most successful battles. And grand consistent Christians these
sceptics make when the power of divine grace has subdued them to
Christ. Mr. G-
Mr. G's warfare is entirely of the guerilla type, and
like Fiddler Joss he neglects no opportunity to say a stray word for
the Master. For instance, he once met an Irishman on the Dials, a
real six-footer, who was three-parts drunk, and who was crying out-
most lustily, "Who are you for? The Pope or Garibaldi !" G-
answered, "I'm for Jesus Christ, who are you for?" "Shure and
I'm the same," answered the Irishman. This conversation ultimately
led the drunkard to become a teetotaller, and now he is a morally
reformed man. To show the ignorance of the poor Irish of every-
thing connected with the leading provisions of the gospel, I will give
a sad illustration. G the morning following the adventure in
the Rookeries already described, visited the house for the purpose of
reading to the women who had counselled the violent brothers to
listen to what "the gintleman had to say." He read to them,
while they were washing, the 3rd chapter of John's Gospel. They
were quiet until he came to the words, "Except a man be born
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again," &c. One of the women dropped her clothes into the tub, and
burst out into a fit of laughter, and said, "Shure, ar'nt you pitch-
ing it now," and accused him of "making it all up," and argued
against the impossibility of a re-birth, just as Nicodemus did. Indeed
it is the common experience of those who visit the Catholics of St.
Giles that they know nothing of the way of salvation, and are con-
'tent with believing in the efficacy of good works, by which they mean
attending the ceremonial observances of the "Holy Catholic Church."
The last illustration I shall give out of this sick visitor's experien-
ces, will serve to show the necessity of genuine manifested earnest-
ness on the part of all labourers for Christ. Our friend
Our friend once visited
a dying man, a tailor, and his earnestness on that occasion was such
that the poor man blessed and thanked God that he had sent some
one to see him who really cared for his soul. It appears that a
minister of the Episcopal sect had paid him a hurried visit, had read
hurriedly and prayed hastily, without pressing eternal considerations
upon him.
Sally," said the dying man, when the minister had
left, "that is slopwork; that man does'nt care about my soul."
Mr. Barnard preaches in the open air on the Dials, and his earnest-
ness, combined with a temperate address, and appropriateness of
subject and manner have made marked impressions on the roughest
of men.
It is found that the listeners in this district will take no
notice of ranting; they must be addressed as men who have some-
thing superior to passions upon which to work. If you slightly com-
pliment their understanding-and that you may conscientiously do
of many of them-they will think all the better of your wisdom.
They appreciate anecdotes and illustrations, especially those which
are adduced from the newspapers of the past week. Newspapers they
read, or will get some one to read to them. They have a great pre-
judice against those who are paid for their services as preachers, and
would prefer a man living by sin than by the gospel. One of the
helpers has a habit of watching the crowd collected to hear Mr.
M'Cree preach, and should there be any one who is troubled with
the gift of oratory and wishes to interrupt the speaker, the spy
manages to draw him away to battle it out with him. Of course
others follow to see "fair fight," and thinking there is a disturbance
a number of watchers-on will join, and thus another audience is ob-
tained and another sermon preached.
1
J
((
the
S
AMONG THE THIEVES AND TRAMPS OF ST. GILES.
129
+
If the reader imagines all this I have been describing is easy work,
let him try it, and the probability is that the first attempt would be a
failure--perhaps worse.. Men and women who patronise such establish-
ments as that in Gibbett Street, where there is an announcement in a
barber's window, that "Ladies and gentlemen who have met with a
black eye, can have it effectually concealed by a perfectly harmless
process!" or who need the application of such a process, are not the
easiest characters to influence for good. Yet Mr. M'Cree and his
excellent helpers, who devote the little leisure they bave to evangelistic
work, are possessed of a power which enables them to do pretty much
as they please with the coarsest of men. A friend has aptly ascribed
Mr. M'Cree's influence to the invariable law of kindness on which he
acts, swathing it always in unseen bands of iron. The following
extract from a lecture by Mr. M'Cree will show the character of
some of the people of his diocese :
"In one of my visits I went into a back cellar; there was a bed, a kettle,
and a pan,—that was all the furniture. The floor was drenched with filth, and
the walls reeking with the wet, and yet they paid two shillings a week for it.
I was struck with the ignorance of the man, and I invited him to come to my
house to supper, telling him that I wanted to see him. I had this man to supper,
and I gave him some coffee, and bread and butter, and other simple fare, and I
sat down to talk to him. I asked if he knew anything of the ten command-
ments ?-No.-Did he know who Moses was?-Oh yes; he is the great tailor.-
Did he know anything of Jesus?—No; never heard of the name that he knew
of.-Could he say the Lord's Prayer?-He could say Our Father; that's all.
'How do you get your living?' I continued. 'I goes into the country to gather
herbs, and comes back and sells them. I get up at two o'clock in the morning
sometimes, and walks twenty or twenty-four miles into the country, without
anything to eat, or a copper in my pocket.' 'Well, and what do you do now on
a stormy day, after walking so far without anything to eat or drink, and get-
ting your herbs; what do you do then ?'-'I does the best I can, sir.' 'Yes, I
have no doubt you do; but how do you do?' 'Well, sir, I have sometimes
felt so miserable that I have set down under a hedge and cried.'
Now, that is only one little history which I have found in that street. One
day a man came to me and told me his wife had died. I sympathized with the
poor man, and said I hoped that she had died in peace? Yes sir,' the man
answered, 'she only asked for one thing, and that was a pork sausage.' Another
case was that of a man who made portmanteaus. I went into his room, and
found him at work, but he told me he did not want me; he was not a Christian,
and did not believe the Bible. He said, 'I tell you what I do, I go into a pub-
lic-house, and throw down a sovereign, and challenge any man to understand
the first chapter he comes at in the Bible, and no one ever can, so I pick my
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sovereign up again and walk off.' 'Oh!' said I, 'we'll try that now, if you
please.' 'I'm willing,' said he. So I sat down beside him. I pulled out my
Bible; I opened it at random, and asked him if I had done it fairly. He said,
Yes.' My eye fell on a verse, and I read, 'Blessed is the man whose trans-
gression is forgiven, and whose sin is covered;' and I then read the remainder
of the 32nd Psalm, and said, 'Do you understand that?' 'Yes,' he replied,' I
think I do.' 'Very well,' I said, 'try again.' I opened the book again at random,
aud read, 'Let all bitterness and wrath, all clamour and evil speaking cease
from among you, and put away all malice; but be you kind one towards another,
forgiving one another, God hath forgiven you.' 'Do you understand that?'
I asked. 'Yes,' he said. 'Well, let us try again.' I opened again, and read
the chapter which speaks of the duties of the husband and wife, the father and
mother, and when I had finished, the man exclaimed, 'Why, bless me, sir, if
any one had done that at the public-house I should have lost my sovereign."".
It must not be forgotten that this mission is supported by the
church and congregation of Bloomsbury Chapel, over which the Rev.
W. Brock presides. Nor would it be just to omit to add how much
the whole mission is indebted to the sympathy and personal help
afforded by Mr. Brock. The church has done itself high honour in its
support of this organization for external aggressive work.
CHAPTER XIV.
POOR SARAH.
In a populous thoroughfare, not far from the busiest haunts of
merchant life, there resided some years ago a singular unmarried
couple. To find them out it was necessary to pass through an
innocent little milkshop, up some dingy,stairs that creaked like new
boots, proverbially said to be unpaid for, and shook as though they
were subject to some staircase-fever, into a top back room which,
however clean and tidy, was, like most small rooms that accommo-
datingly serve as kitchen, parlour, and bed-room, redolent with
smells proceeding from asticles derived from all quarters of the
globe. Old Dinah's pocket was a marvellous emporium of a variety
of goods that had no natural affinity; and if nutmeg-graters, spice,
blue, tobacco, and pocket-handkerchiefs could speak, we fear they
would have been aghast at their close alliance to each other. We
care not to analyse the variety of smells which one whiff will take
in when you visit such humble domestic establishments as that in
which "Poor Sarah" lived with her deaf sister. This little room •
POOR SARAH.
131
is no worse than many others; indeed, it is far better than most of
its neighbours: it is near the skies, and is the better for it. The
leaden clouds hanging like a pall overhead, remind you of coffins
and funeral arrangements; and through such a dull atmosphere the
-persevering sun will sometimes shoot out a few benignant rays.
Those rays-great revealers of home neglectfulness, of cobwebs, and
dust; fierce enemies to the cheap varnish that cracks in the sun's
honest face! should be welcomed as cheery friends; but they so
rarely come, than when they do manifest their presence, their glow-
ing brightness is deemed to be unblushing, and, like too familiar
visitors, they are unceremoniously told, as the blinds are lowered,
"they are not wanted here." Alas! good genial sun, thou hast the
misfortune of having a red face; and as thou wilt not hide thy
colours, but like a true soldier will persist in appearing-which is not
too often in this dull country-in full regimentals, thou art treated
as a bold headed intruder, and thy room is thought to be better
than thy company.
Old maids never like thee, thou barefaced sun;
the full-moon, when not prefaced by honey, is their universal
favourite the emblem of innocence and of youth-for, like them,
it is never old, and when it looks most aged is only waiting a
favourable time when it will appear new. Yet when the sun did
dart forth a friendly ray into this top room, it lent its aid inreveal-
ing many little mysteries that were shrouded in dingy darkness.
For instance, and most notably, did it display to good advantage two
fine old tom cats, couchant like lions in two arm-chairs. These
chairs were their quiet resting-places. They were each guarded
like sacred enclosures; to infringe upon each other's rights, for one
to poach on the other's manor-that is, to attempt to gain forcible
possession of the wrong chair, was a declaration of war more fierce
than was ever waged this side of Kilkenny. These cats were honoured
by their owner, who would starve that they might not hunger.
That owner was-
-deaf; did you think I was going to write
an old maid?
But in the room, lying or sitting in a bed, the coverings of which
are snow-white"white as drip" some ladies say, whatever that
may fully mean-was an object curious, yet pleasant, to behold. A
poor woman, contracted, cramped, for thirty years an intense sufferer
. from rheumatism, ill-living, and bad-treatment, lies contentedly
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there.
You are told that she is a marvel of God's grace displayed
triumphantly over weakness and infirmity. Her cheerfulness has
a merry, genuine ring about it; her face betokens the joyousness of
her heart. "She seems full of the Holy Ghost," remarked a Bap-
tist minister once, who was struck by her happy saint-like face.
And those who knew her best, and were most with her, confessed
their amazement at seeing so contracted and disease-stricken a
form the temple of a Spirit that made her unceasingly happy.
This is "Poor Sarah. She is no longer poor in any sense. Five
or six years ago she inherited her blessed possessions; passed from
a garret in St. Luke's to a mansion in heaven; from a scene of
misery and pain to a region of joy and happiness. The story of her
life, as told me by one whom she recognised as her pastor, though
she never heard him preach nor entered his chapel, I now propose
to relate.
Poor Sarah's father was a hair-cloth weaver. She was the eldest
child of a large family. All her life she was immured in London.
No Sunday-schools, then, took her and her childish companions
into the green fields. She never saw in her life a wheat or barley
field. Her knowledge of oak trees was derived from the possession
of a few acorns given her by some friends, and she became aquaint-
ed with the nature of wheat crops by obtaining some ears of corn.
Her father died while she was a little maid-of-all-work. She left
this employment to work for longer hours at weaving. From five
in the morning till ten o'clock at night she laboured on; it was a
life of toil unbroken by pleasant associations. To awake her in the
morning tin-kettles hauging from a high window-sill in her bed-
room were rattled by a night-policeman who would, at a given hour,
pull the string. Her little heart was at that time unattracted by
the Saviour. She preferred labour on Sundays to attendance at
God's house. She knew no more of the suburbs of London, than ી.
New Zealander who had lived all his days in the trackless forest.
She once ventured as far as St. George's in the Borough, but on
crossing the bridge the sight of so much water made her head giddy.
Subsequently she attended to a relative's domestic arrangements,
and while thus engaged suffered severely from rheumatism. The
cholera came.
She fell a victim to what seemed worse than death.
She never recovered from this attack. She was obliged to use crutches.
"
POOR SARAH.
133
>>
Her friends did not well treat her. Indeed, she suffered much
at their hands. Once she was resolved to effect her own des
truction. With the help of her crutches she hobbled to the
window. Opening it, she succeeded so far as to put her head
through it, but by the interposition of providence, she could not
force her body through for lack of power. Some one ran up
stairs, and by her help she was placed again in her bed. Sarah
never referred to this circumstance without giving vent to her
feelings of gratitude in language derived from the "sweet singer
of Israel," whose songs she loved. On three othes occasions did her
heavenly Father interpose for her. A relative who lived with her
at one period, grew weary and impatient of attending to the wants of
the emaciated sufferer. She, it appears, had been worried and driven
to desperation by her low circumstances. So vexed was she at the
small sum received one morning for the shirts she had made, that
she threatened to "finish" poor Sarah on her return from shopping.
To be "finished may be an admirable condition of things in an
educational point of view, though even that is absurd. To be
"finished" in the sense of being "polished," a threat common enough
among schoolboys, may be grievous to the flesh that endures the trial.
But the "finishing" with which Poor Sarah was threatened had a
murderous signification. In all Sarah's trials she betook herself to
him who has said, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." She
had hardly ceased praying when her relative came in, limping like a
cripple. She had disabled herself by running a hook into her foot,
and, full of her own trouble, was prevented accomplishing what she
had it in her heart to effect. Nor was this the only deliverance
"Poor Sarah" experienced. On one occasion this same person, in-
furiated by evil passions, rose to strike the bed-ridden creature, but
in doing so she missed her aim, and striking the unimpressible bed-
post put out her own shoulder. She made a similar attempt on a
subsequent day, which was so signally defeated, that, convineed the
destinies were against her, she ceased her cruel attempts to injure
one who was so manifestly sustained and preserved by the hand of God.
A young lady who was in the habit of visiting the poor of St.
Luke's, in connection with Mr. Farley's little church in St. James
Street, found out Poor Sarah one fortunate day. This person was a
famous helper in all good works. Her enthusiasm for Christ and his
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cause was wonderful. One day she met a crossing-sweeper in the
streets : "Do you ever go to chapel, my good woman?" she prettily
asked. “No, ma'am." "But wouldn't you like?" "Perhaps, ma'am."
"Will you come with me now; I am going to one close by."
"Can't,
ma'am, what could I do with my broom?” "Oh, I'll manage that
for you," and so saying she took the broom, hid it under her mantle,
and arriving at the chapel, placed it behind the door, and its owner
in a comfortable seat.
seat.
Poor Sarah was in great want when this good woman first saw her.
She had scarcely any clothes; and was shivering in the cold. A
friend called, afforded suitable help, made up some warm flannel, and`
collected regularly from those with whom she worked in a warehouse
close by, in halfpennies and pence, two shillings a-week, money she
would say
"for my bird," for Sarah's surname was Bird. But it
was through the conversation and pleadings of the first visitor that
poor
Sarah was led to put her trust in him who, through the rest of
her days, was her Lover and Comforter. What grace did in trans-
forming her abject life into one of the brightest and most brilliant
manifestations ofChristian experiences, no pen can adequately de-
scribe. The blessed influences of her life of sacred communion drop-
ped, like fruit that falls to the ground by the weight of its own ripe-
ness, for the refreshment of all whose hearts were with her in fel-
lowship. If her daily life could not convince sceptics of the truth
and power of Christianity, all the books on "evidences" would be
useless. In her life was verified this sweet saying, "The flower of
Christian graces grows only under the shade of the cross, and the
root of them all is humility." Her whole days were seemingly spent
in thankfulness and in praise. It was said by Epictetus, that if he
were a nightingale, he would by singing fulfil the vocation of a night-
ingale; if he were a swan, he would fulfil the vocation of a swan;
but since he was a reasonable being, it was his calling to praise God.
Those who knew Poor Sarah testify that her constant song was,
"While I live will I praise the Lord: I will sing praises unto my
God while I have any being." She used to say when reviewing all
the kind mercies of a loving Father, "Ah, sir, I am lost in wonder,
love, and praise."
For more than sixteen years had she lain in bed, helpless, yet she
would say,
“It is wonderful I should be continued here, when 'so.
POOR SARAH.
135
4
many who are young and active are taken away. The thought that
my sins are forgiven, and my dependence is on the great love of
Jesus, my Saviour, makes me content to remain here until he is good
enough to call me home.”
She would lay awake in the night, communing with her Saviour,
and meditating on his promises. She would say she never wanted a
candle to help her to think of them. She was too poor, generally, to
burn a candle, except in time of illness. The friends who visited her
brought in their own light. A neighbour one did a thoughtful
action. She considered how lonely Sarah must be without any one
or any light, in the room; so she determined to give the poor cripple
her clock. She brought it. "A very great comfort it was to me,"
observed Sarah, "to hear it tick and see how the time went; but
afterward it stopped. We tried to have it mended, but my friend
who gave it to me feared it was a deception, sold to her by an Ameri-
can that went about with such things; still I liked to look at it for
her kindness' sake." But she had better company. Her friend who
had been the means of leading her to Christ would frequently talk with
her about the good things touching the kingdom. Two neighbours
would visit her by turns, and attend to her wants; and in long
summer's evenings would bring their needlework and sit by her side.
Mr. Farley tells me that so little did Poor Sarah need "nature's kind
restorer-sleep," that she seldom slept more than two hours during
the night. Many happy, joyous prayer-meetings has he held in this
room, and many Christian workers, toiling among the lowest classes
of the "roughs," were strengthened in their work by the influences
of those unique gatherings.
A heart so full of praise was never silent when it was possible to
recount God's acts of loving kindness. She always had some rich tale
of providential deliverance with which to interest her visitors. "The
Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want," was a text which she
could illustrate in a hundred ways out of her own wonderful experi-
ence. One day, when living with her deaf sister, she had nothing in
the house to eat, save a mouldy crust, which in her temper, her sis-
ter brought to her bedside, saying, "There, that is all the parish
will allow you this week!" "Never mind," was the answeer,
out the crumb, and wipe the crust with a clean cloth, and if you've
got any butter, scrape it together." While this was being done, a
"cut
136
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
knock was heard at the bed-room door. It was her friend who first
led her to love the Saviour, who came with a loaf in her hand, which
she had just bought at a baker's for her poor friend.
When she lived in an adjoining court, a fire broke out in the house.
Even the beam over her bed caught on fire. She lay, however, calm
and serene, watching the leapings of the flames, assured that God
would somehow prevent them hurting her. Her friends removed
her to a room in another house, of which she became the tenant.
Once she was sad at heart, for there was little for breakfast in the
morning. Unbelief came in, and she almost gave way to its insidious
advances. Before breakfast next morning, a gentleman unknown to
her and to her friends, knocked at her door. "Very early," he kindly
observed, "to disturb an invalid, but I thought that I would just leave
this parcel on my way to the city," and so saying he placed a packet
on a chair near the door, and went away. Poor Sarah had of course
the innate curiosity that characterises her sex, rich and poor, ill or
well, and it seemed a long time till her friend belonging to Mr. Farley's
church, came upstairs, and opened the parcel for her. When it was
opened, imagine her delight on seeing the necessary articles for
more than one breakfast, viz., half-a-pound of tea, half-a-pound of
coffee, a pound of loaf and an equal quantity of moist sugar. Nor
was that the only gift of the day. The expected gift which she had¨.
doubted whether she would have received, came also, and so once
more was Jesus better to her than her doubts and fears.
For nine or ten years poor Sarah received one shilling a week from
the Sick Fund in connection with the church in James street,
besides other helps from friends who were raised up at various times
to relieve the necessities of the poor woman. Toward the latter end
of her life she received from a number of sources, sufficient to meet
her current necessities, without being exercised in any way. Yet
she never manifested so brilliantly the splendour of a life of faith
as when she lived wholly upon its daily exercise. Never was her
influence so magnetic as then. The large amount of sympathy
evoked on her behalf from all who heard of her story, was, if any
thing, likely to deaden the effulgence of that wonderful life that
seemed so thoroughly to have been irradiated by the divine sunlight.
To us it has been quite a treat to look over the clean-looking
Bible which poor Sarah loved so to read. This Bible she obtained
POOR SARAH.
137
!
in the days of her deep distress, by going without butter and
sugar to pay a penny a week for it. She had only the use of one
thumb. Her other hand and all her fingers, with the exception of
this thumb, were stiff and useless. She had to lift the leaves of her
Bible with a fork, but so carefully was this done that there are not,
so far as I can see, any impressions from the prongs. It is curious
and refreshing to observe the chapters and verses which seemed to
have been most blessed to her. It would be impossible to enumer-
ate them all. Yet I noticed that the one hundred and thirtieth
Pslam must have been peculiarly precious to her waiting heart,
which would have thrilled responsive to the psalmist's experience:
"My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the
morning." The same may be said of the eighty-sixth Psalm, the
twelfth and thirteenth verses of which are emphatically marked, as
though they were doubly expressive of her noblest convictions: "I
will praise thee, O Lord my God, with all my heart and I will
glorify thy name for evermore. For great is thy mercy toward
me: and thou hast delivered my soul from the lowest hell." Matthew
twelfth, eighteenth verse, "My beloved, in whom my soul is well
pleased," was a passage which seemed to have been peculiarly appro-
priate to her appropriating faith. She
"In that charter read, with sparkling eyes,
Her title to a treasure in the skies."
""
What a fine, strongly-drawn mark there is at the twentieth verse
of the second chapter of Paul's epistle to the Galatians: “I am
crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ
liveth in me and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by
the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.'
And in the presence of a joy unspeakable and full of glory about
to be revealed to her, Faith, like an enchantress, rose from the
sordid earth, and with a wave of her magic wand, dispelled the mists
of sin and doubt: "For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain."
Through the generosity of kind friends to whom the story of her
life had become known, and the temporal and spiritual help afford-
ed through the Bible-woman of the district, poor Sarah spent the
last few years of her life in comparatively comfortable circumstances.
To the kind visitors in connection with the little active church in
James street, and to its pastor, Mr. Farley, whose care for her was
18
138
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
It
unremitting, she owed much for her sustenance and consolation.
has given the writer no little pleasure to have learned how much a
small working men's congregation may do for the Master and the
Master's poor in a quiet, unostentatious way. The little community
worshipping in James street has for some years past struggled with
the ignorance and destitution of a large number of hard-working
artisans of third-rate position, has relieved hundreds of the deserving
and starving poor, to whom the word of God has been given, and
has, by its persevering and earnest sick visitors been the means of
bringing many poor sinners to hear the gospel of the blessed God,
The pastor being a tradesman, gives his services voluntarily, and to
his exertions and liberality the cause has been greatly indebted from
its commencement. There is a debt of £300 upon the chapel, and
Mr. Farley has promised to pay £150 of it, provided the remainder
be subscribed within a given period. Through the assistance of
those whose hearts may be moved to help a church that, though
very poor, subscribes over £100 per annum for benevolent and
other purposes without any external aid, it is hoped that the
chapel debt, which is an incombrance, my be speedily removed,
so that the institutions of the church may be strengthened.
We hold that in neighbourhoods like that of St. Luke's, where the poor
are absolutely unable to raise a salary for a minister, men like Mr.
Farley, who can devote their leisure voluntarily to so good a work,
are serving God and his church in a noble, Christian spirit. And to
us it is a source of the highest gratification to find that God has
greatly blessed the work of this community-the church, the Sabbath-
school, and the other organisations being in a flourishing and increas-
ingly prosperous condition. May those who for so long a period
ministered to the necessities of so afflicted a saint as poor Sarah--
for sixteen years bedridden and a helpless cripple-be abundantly
rewarded here--and beyond!
CHAPTER XV.
WESTMINSTER.
HISTORICALLY, Westminster is the most remarkable city in the
world. For proof thereof consult any hand-book on London you
WESTMINSTER.
139
can beg, borrow or-purchase. Socially, it is no less remarkable.
For centuries, the richest and the poorest may be said to have met
together in its streets and avenues, its gardens and slums. It has
beef the haunt of the rich, and the chosen delight of the poor; the
residence of law-makers, and the home of law-breakers. So fair is
the city, with its beautiful structures, that it looks like a saint ; so
begrimed with dirt and reeking with filth are its back streets, that
it typifies the demon of the human soul. Even now-such are the
accretions of ages-its most magnificent buildings are skirted by
pestiferous dens ; and these are infested by hideous humanity, tortur.
ed by pain, victimised by intemperance, wasted by lust, and batten-
ing on its own corruption. In "the good time coming," the date of
which it would be desirable to fix, we are assured that chemistry
will be so perfected that London smoke will be condensed into solid
globes of carbon, resembling. on a more imposing scale, homœopa-
thic globules-those pretty little mysteries !-which will be burnt
at night, so that public expenditure may be economised, the clouds
rendered clearly observable to the human eye by day, and the exor-
bitant profits of gas companies considerably reduced. It is greatly
to be desired, for the sake of the inhabitants of Westminster, that
this long-expected day of the triumphs of chemistry may speedily
come. Probably, however, they would be satisfied if factories con-
sumed their own smoke.
>>
Many attempts have been made to ruin and improve Westminster
city. Whole streets of working-men's houses have been pulled down
in order to drive away the filthy and the degraded ; and courts and
alleys have been preserved for the ostensible good of the respectable,
but for the actual benefit of the fallen and impure. Such is the per-
versity of humanising societies that wish to reap large dividends for
their "improvements. The changes, in this respect have, perhaps,
been more numerous here than in any other part of the metropolis.
The poor have, of course, been driven to overcrowding in the
wretched houses that remain ; the common lodging-houses are still fill-
ed with thieves and scamps; the alleys are the resort of grambling
costermongers, and the large model lodging-house, called Westminster
Buildings, is almost bereft of the families for whom it was designed,
and is full of those for whom one room is considered a luxury, and
two rooms a burden, and an unnecessary evil.
140
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
Walk through some of the remaining fever-polluted haunts, and
you are struck with the comatosed state of the stolidly indifferent
beings, who are insensible to their wretchedness and oblivious of a
more elevated existence. Some, like eagles from their eyrie, are ready
to pounce upon any offending neighbour, with whom a quarrel
and a fight are inevitable necessities of close friendship, and to whom
an answer demands much physical enforcement to sond it home with
any power. To hear the jabbering Irish women talk is to realise
Babel in one individual. As for intelligible utterance, clear pronun-
ciation and calm delivery-these are relegated to other and more cold-
blooded people, to whom rapidity of speech would be a speedy exhaus-
tion of ideas. You are surprised to see so many of the coster class, ap
parently, lolling and idling, smoking and chaffing. What is their oc-
cupation? where their employment? As they plunge their hands into
the hidden recesses of pockets which serve as depositories for all man-
ner of articles, or swear with vigour, or denounce with emphasis
each other, the thought arises of their importance in a certain circle
of acquaintance, and their varied and perfect knowledge of the most
prominent government houses which are variously dignified and des-
cribed by those who wish to conceal the fact of their prolonged and
compulsory residence in them. Thieves still lodge in Westminster,
though typhus fever, imprisonment, demolition of houses, emigration
and transportation, have somewhat diminished their number. As
the policemen will tell you, however, the larger number work in re-
tirement, or hoodwink the public by carrying on respectable trades.
A few years ago, a civil-looking, fair-dealing butcher, to whom the
visits of Christian visitors were generally acceptable, was ferreted
out by a keen-witted policeman, and discovered to be a bank-note
forger on a most enterprising scale. This man, Buncher by name,
was never suspected of wrong-doing; while another man, also tran-
sported, was a pest not only to the godly, but also to the most un-
godly. He was a wife-fighter, an awful blasphemer, and a ringleader
in all street rows. So greatly was he execrated by his own associates,
that this coiner of forty years was regarded by his friends as the
most notorious blackguard in London. And the atmosphere was
cleared of much moral pollution by his embarkation. Yet this man,
whom all feared and shunned, detested and despised, whose daring
in wickedness seemed unequalled, whose perfection in his sad art of.
[
};
WESTMINSTER.
141
coining was so marked that his coins were always recognised as his
at the mint, but whose cleverness was so great that up to the period
of his arrest, the police could never catch him so as to get a convic-
tion-this foul blot in humanity would often appear affected while he
was being reasoned with on righteousness and judgment to come,
"No man in the district," says the London City Mission's agent,
"would sooner take my part if any one said a word against me, or
insulted me in any way."
How miserably degraded some parts of Westminster are, may be
judged by the fact that in one district visited by a missionary there
are seven hundred visitable families, and not twenty persons who
give signs of a regenerated life. These families have five gin-shops
provided for them, five openly bad houses, and eight that are suspect-
ed; and in one of them three sisters live in sin, one being married
and supporting her husband by her infamy. This is not a large, but
a very small district. The houses are in a wretched condition, there
are no back yards, nor back windows; some of the cellars are inha-
bited; a whole family live together in one room, frequently not more
than ten feet square, and it is not unusual to find a shoemaker at
work in the midst of the family. The streets, in which most of the
poor creatures spend the best of their days, present all the charac-
teristics indigenous to such a neighbourhood. Gambling was &
favourite pastime, especially on the Sabbath; but this has been some-
what checked. The day is still desecrated by boys playing at marbles,
at pitch and toss, and by women and girls amusing themselves with
the shuttle-cock. A fight is no unusual source of merriment, although
Irish rows, and Irish screams, and Irish bullying, and cow-
ardice, are never rare where there is a nest of these choice residents.
And notably is it true with them that quarrels would never develop
into serious issues were there no spectators, no peace-lovers, no
mediators, and consequently no one to believe that meddling is a
virtue, and fighting a vice. For the latter conviction becomes a
nuisance in such a locality, inasmuch as it frequently leads to fight-
ing when it is not seriously contemplated. "Peace at any price,"
you say. Yes, but you can't enforce it by interfering or by giving
away a tract. Fetch a constable should the conflict show a serious
head; let the affairs alone, if you do not, since the skirmish will be
fikely to evaporate in words. The sight of a meddler seems to put
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
an Irishman on his mettle; contact with a policeman will exaspe-
rate but ultimately quiet him; a kind word will only add fuel to
the fire. Perhaps, after all, no one can so successfully put an end
to what the reporters call a melee, as a priest. Before a priest, an
ignorant Irishman is a dumb fool.
And yet, no fairer field for Christian enterprise can be found
than in these haunts. Wherever the depraved are, the influences
of the gospel should be felt. The time has gone by for submitting
to that spirit of Pharisaism which shuts out the lost from Christian
calculations and sympathies. Whatever fault may be found with
the church of Christ in the present day, it cannot be said that it
despairs of alleviating human misery, or refuses to touch pollution
lest it should become polluted. The churches that hedge themselves
in from the world, that refuse to associate with any but the elect,
that have no sympathising ear, no helping hand, no warm hearts to
pity, no willing feet to run, no active sentiments to stimulate, are
miserably few, contemptibly weak, and are returning fast to the
vile dust of decay and dissolution. Human sympathy is attracting
everywhere the hearts of the wretched from a life of which they
are tired; Christian holiness is drawing admiration in men and
women long diseased, long suffering from sin; the strength of holy
firmness, the unflinching ardour of noble courage, the penetrating
sweetness of a gracious simplicity, displayed in seeking among the
ruins of fallen nature, doubly lost-lost to God, lost to themselves
-and in exhibiting the cross, and him who died thereon, is van-
quishing hearts long seared by wickedness, and subduing wills long
perverted to hellish,principles. This blessed work of rescuing
humanity from its thraldom, and breaking the iron bonds of spiri-
tual slavery is a glorious occupation-
"Tis what might fill an augel's heart,
And filled the Saviour's hands."
Westminster is carefully looked after by the various churches,
although we doubt whether they do as much as the Roman Catho-
lics. Men will
"
}
"Make flexible the knees of knotted oaks"
to compass the work of proselytising. The Sisters of Mercy, with their
black dress and beads, and coal-skuttle bonnets-the last remaining
vestige to teach the present generation that formerly bonnets were
worn-are ever busy in the lowest haunts of misery. In them
WESTMINSTER.
143
indolence has received its death-shock. Like the Syrophenician
woman, though surrounded by difficulties, they are not discouraged;
though God himself frown, they persevere. Such obedience to duty,
so entire, so earnest, meets with its reward. They insinuate them-
selves into the good opinions of the poor, who are won by their
kindness, subdued and awed by their authority. The Rev. Samuel
Martin and his congregation work among the degraded, and largely
help them in their poverty. The Baptist Church in Romney-street
has a staff of lodging-house visitors, who preach and teach those
who manifest as little regard to virtue and outward cleanliness as
they do to religious principles. The London City Mission labours
here, and though not so much by preaching as some of the mission-
aries would desire, yet by visitation and instruction good is done.
This work is not altogether easy, and results cannot always be
chronicled, in consequence of the migratory habits of the people.
There are plenty of schools, and so well has the district been can
vassed that it is only among the lowest of the inhabitants that the
children are entirely neglected. This neglect is due partly to the
parents' dislike or carelessness respecting education, and to the
early habits of incorrigible rebellion formed by the children them-
selves. The missionary conducts small devotional services-so he
tells us in one of his reports-and those who attend consist of
persons who have not listened to a religious service for years.
They frequently come without shawl or bonnet.
"One woman,
who gets her living at her needle, is so interested in these meetings,
that she keeps the room (an upper room) clean, opens it, preserves
order, and frequently goes out before the service begins to invite
the people in, and all without remuneration." Similar services are
held for the servants of the Westminster Palace Hotel. The
work of visitation is characterised by most hopeful features. When
the visit is rejected, which is a rare occurrence, it is generally done
with a measure of politeness which "breaks the fall." The interest
attending each visit varies. Sometimes it is marked by extreme
indifference, as though the truths conveyed met with no sort of
response; at other times enquiry is evoked, and the visitor is greatly
encouraged in his work; and now and then, through the mercy of
God, hearts long hardened, minds long bent to evil purposes, con-
sciences long blunted and deadened, have been softened, enlightened,
144
ENGLİSİIMEN AT HOME.
and aroused. The first effect will be a moral one. Their lives
need renovating; they knew it long ago, and confessed it, some-
times in a jaunty spirit, at other time with sadness. Now, in sin-
cerity of spirit and earnestness of purpose, they desire to "turn
over a new leaf." The reader may understand that homely expres-
sion, and think the work which it implies a comparatively easy
one. Truth to tell, it is consummately difficult for some who are
surrounded by temptations and sins which lose none of their potency,
though much of their fascination. There is the temptation to
live in satisfaction with a low standard of right and wrong. This
temptation to conventional morality comes alike to all classes in all
conditions of life. It comes in a low, gross form to the poor, but
it is none the less a triumph of grace to conquer it. There is, too,
the temptation to continue receiving ill-gotten gains. It comes to a
poor costermonger, who has the choice before him of obtaining £ 3
or £4
a week by his old ways of cheating the public, or of relin-
quishing great profits and dishonest gains for one quarter of his
usual receipts. The temptation is none the less strong because he
is a poor, illiterate fellow, and not a fine, educated university man
who has swindled the public through bubble companies. Nor are
the heart-strugglings against the oppressive dread of presecution
diminished by the condition of life of these new aspirants after God
and goodness. His must be a brutal, unsympathising heart that
can mock at the tyrannous world of passions which fight for the
mastery over a soul just born to God, with but a simple, weak faith,
trembling heart, and very imperfect knowledge. But oh! when the
hour and the agony of temptation has past, when the craven fear
has fled, and the insidious seductress of mischief departed, and the
divinely-imparted strength has laid low the soul's great foe, and faith
has triumphed, and hope has revived, and joy has animated and
cheered the distressed heart-then gratitude fills the soul, and music
flows from thankfulness, and confidence springs into noble activity.
It is something worth knowing
"How sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong."
And the triumphs of divine grace over human weakness have their
lessons for us, whether they be won over our own hearts or over.
those of the poorest.
WESTMINSTER.
145
Two kinds of work are most useful in Westminster-perhaps three.
Open air preaching on Sunday afternoons in courts and by-streets,
though attended by limited numbers, is surrounded by difficulties,
but it is nevertheless owned and blessed by God. The missionary
has two stations in courts which we have looked at, and found to be
none of the sweetest or most desirable. The population is a mixed
one of English and Irish. "We never knew who heard the Word -
and who did not; for the houses were so close and the streets so
narrow, that they who chose to listen could do so without being seen
or coming into the open street." We are told that the quiet hearing
of the Word much, depends upon the amount of drink imbibed by the
fallen women and their companions during the previous part of the
day. "Numbers of young men would pass up and down, and in and
out among the women, and frequently have they stopped to listen to
the words of truth, the effect of which has been to make them feel
uneasy in their minds, and they hardly had courage to enter the
houses of iniquity, but waited and listened until drawn in by the
raillery or pressing invitations of their companions." A terrible
picture; but alas! true to nature. Then there is preaching in mis-
sion-rooms, which in this neighbourbood are not easily filled, and
most important of all-lodging-house visitation. It appears there
are now thirteen lodging-houses in the district, three of which are
very large, and will unitedly accommodate about two hundred per-
sons. They are tenanted by beggars and street hawkers. Some-
times there is interruption, of course; some one will suggest money
as the one thing needful, just as the Duke of Abercorn lately thought
that "more turnips" would cure Ireland's ills; but a judicious
speaker will turn such interpolations to advantage. When loquacious
men are in liquor, even a lion-like man is liable to look confused at
an incisive lampoon. But even these men are more impressible than
the dogged and sullen, who have only a few thoughts and fewer
ways of expressing them.
:
{
Ľ
We might give several remarkable instances of good done by
visitation among the wretched, but our allotted space has all but
gone, and we must content ourselves with two cases; we select the
two from the missionary's report of 1873, solely because they are
exceedingly striking, and in a measure representative of other of a
later date. A poor fellow, of godly parents, was sent to college,
19
146
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
obtained a good knowledge of Greek and Latin, became a Congre.
gational minister, then was tutor at a Yorkshire college for some
years, then travelled on the Continent, met one misfortune after
another, was reduced to the lowest poverty, took to selling needles,
paper, etc., in the London streets, and lacking decent clothing
ceased to attend public worship. He attended the missionary's ser-
vice, and subsequent conduct proved him to be a true child of God.
He became a great help in the neighbourhood, and though he was so
poor as scarcely to obtain more than bread and weak tea, yet he read
and talked to the poor lodging-house people, and was much liked.
***
A
Here is another case, given, because it is so painfully romantic, in
his own words, of a poor tinman, who could neither read nor write;
and knew no more about religion than that he thought he was a
sinner "like the rest of the folks."
He says:
"You knows, Mr. P
I believe what you say, but you know, the likes of us, that
never had any larning, who have always been travelling the country
ever since we was born, it arn't to be thought that we could know
much about these things. My father was a great drunkard all his life;
he could earn plenty of money, but he used to spend it as fast as he
earned it. I was born on the road, as we was travelling—at least,
se my mother tells me-poor old girl! but she has been dead for years.
From a boy I always travelled with my father. Warn't I frightened
once! Blow me, if I warn't. Why, my old dad (father), said to me
one day as we was near a wood, 'I say, boy, I have often said I will
never die with my shoes on ;' so he climbed a tree, I at the same
time crying to him not to do it for I was but quite a boy, about
twelve years old. He got up the tree, chucked me down his shoes,
and says, 'Here goes, boy,' and hung himself with his neck handker-
chief. I ran to a man close by, in the road, filling a dung-cart, and
told him my father had hung himself, and asked him to come and
cut him down ; but he would not, saying he warn't going to cut him
down if he was fool enough to hang himself. So I ran crying, and
met two gentlemen in the road. They came just in time to save my
poor old father's life; but he was ill a long time, and at last he died
raving mad, through drink, a few years after."
THE PUBLIC-HOUSES.
147
CHAPTER XVI.
THE PUBLIC-HOUSES.
A London gin-palace needs scarcely to be described. Most persons
are acquainted with its exterior aspects. Its massive plate glass
windows, solid mahogany doors, artistically decorated and gilded
pilasters, architraves, and friezes, flaming gas, polished metal pipes,
and gaily coloured vats, have made it the most unblushingly conspi-
cuous sight in the streets of London. Nor need we picture the
scenes of riot, of indelicacy, showy vulgarity, and intemperance,
which are too frequently witnessed in and outside these drinking
establishments. Nor shall we describe the less pretentious beer-
houses, nor those dingy-looking pseudo coffee-houses, in which if any
one were to ask for refreshments he would be ridiculed. We shall
assume our readers to be sufficiently well acquainted with the exter-
nal character of these houses at least; and as our object is to depict
vice and intemperance, we shall content ourselves with a simple un-
varnished recital of some of the most interesting facts with which we
have become acquainted.
•
The larger number of our readers, will, in all probability, be sur
prised to learn that there are such persons as missionaries to public-
houses. This feature of the many-sided work of the London City
Mission does not strike one as peculiarly appropriate. We have so
long and so justly regarded gin-palaces as part of the domains of the
evil One, that they do not appear, at first sight, to be the most desir-
able places in which to scatter the good seed of the kingdom. The
bare thought of entering a music hall or dancing saloon for this pur-
pose, seems an outrage upon Christian delicacy and honesty. And
yet, personally undesirable as these spheres of usefulness may be to
most of missionaries from which they should instinctively shrink as
from a foul leprosy, many persons have had cause to thank God for
the felicity that sprang from contact with good and brave men who
have sought out the lost from these borders of hell. We candidly
confess that we have not been able on this occasion to "screw up
courage" to visit with the missionary the low haunts of infamy,
vice, and degradation, to which he goes every night. We have visit-
ed some of the lowest haunts of poverty and ruffianism, and would
not object to do so again were any good purpose to be served
thereby, but to enter those nests of profligacy which, under the
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
cloak of coffee-houses and dancing saloons, are the seminaries of
sensuality in its vulgarest forms, is more than the author would do
were his existence dependent upon it. And yet these missionaries
venture, leaning wholly on the divine strength, to enter the doors
leading close to perdition, to snatch from the burning those whom
the Lord God would call. They witness, as one of them writes,
scenes that are disgusting in the extrême, and hear language of a
most diabolical character. One of these men observes, "I often go
to a public-house door, and push it open, and walk in, when my body
goes in against my feelings, and I am compelled to cry to God for
help. The door of a public-house is often to me a throne of grace,
for there it is where I lift my heart to God, and look to him for
support and success, and when I have most felt my weakness the
Lord has given me the greatest success. I am indebted to my good
friend, Mr. William Olney, who is one of the excellent of the earth,
for an introduction to one of the public-house missionaries, whose
district lies in Bermondsey and its neighbourhood. Mr. Olney's sym-
pathies so naturally flow into the channel of evangelism, that
no one who knows him will be suprised to learn that he acts
as local superintendent for the City Mission, in Bermondsey,
and is therefore well acquainted with the work of the gentle-
man who has furnished me with many of the facts recorded in this
article.
f
J
>>>
Missionary effort in public-houses and music-halls must ever be re-
garded as strange, if not exceptional work. It is so felt by those
who engage in it; yet the opportunities for usefulness are so great
that the advantages override the difficulties. It is also considered
to be strange work by the people who are visited. Religion in a
public-house!" some one will remark to the missionary, "Do you
know, sir, this is no place for you or religion?" But, if this be said,
and said it has been, some one will be sure to retort," Why, Jack,
if this be the devil's house, this is just the place for the gentleman
to come to reform us." The publicans at first ridicule the effort, but,
as we shall see further on, almost always countenance it. That
there is absolute necessity for bearding the lion of sin in his den is
only too apparent when we consider the number of persons who
spend the best part of their leisure hours in these places. Anyone
acquainted with domiciliary visitation to the poor will have recog-
((
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THE PUBLIC HOUSES.
149
2.
nised the great difficulty of meeting with the men. Where are they
to be found? Naturally, a minister of the gospel is anxious to pro-
tect his own reputation, and cannot visit public-houses to "get at”
these people. This work must be left to missionaries; and therefore
we most heartily commend the City Mission for the boldness of its
policy in selecting hardy and godly men to visit those who, finding
no attraction in their wretched homes, spend their evenings in
public-houses. The work, of course, is essentially of an aggressive
character, and for that reason we like it. There are, too, hosts of
difficulties in connection with it. There is the bitter taunt, the
black-guard language, the sottish effects of drink, the irritating mis-
representation, inuendo, and double meaning given to the clearest
reasoning, the unconquerable force of degraded habit, the contact
with fallen women, intolerable obscenity and foul blasphemy, the
frequent presentation under subtle forms of the worst temptations,
the obtuseness of the hardened intellect, and the pretentiousness of
flimsy conceit. But then there are a number of striking advantages
which those who preach in conventicles and visit the homes of the
poor seldom get. The men are in the public-house at leisure, and
will therefore grant the time for listening; they will bear to be lec-
tured in a way that they would not submit to in the presence of
their wives and children; the tracts will be sure to be read; not
only one but dozens of men who are not to be reached by other
agencies, are met with here; no privacy is invaded; no suspicion is
excited among habitually suspicious men; and "a clear stage and
no favour," or, in other words, fair-play is given where, under other
surroundings, it might be denied. Great grace is wanted for this
work. The company is sometimes dreadful; and to become familiar
with scenes of vice must depress the mind and blunt the moral
sensibilities. Even Lot could not live in Sodom without offering,
whether as the result of rashness or heat in a moment of extreme
perplexity or trial one can hardly determine, a compromise to the
demands of the violent citizens. One may well pray for the pre-
servation of the public-house missionaries.
"Several nights," says
one of them, "have I laid awake for hours and could not sleep-the
language I had heard and the scenes I had witnessed preventing
me; and yet amidst all this sin our heavenly Father has been pleased
to work by the power of his Spirit."
V
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
I said, the landlords approved of the work of these men. This is
greatly to their credit, and adds to the pleasure and encouragement
of the workers. But it is not always that the first introduction to
the publican is agreeable. It requires not a little tact, skill, and
judgment, to obtain his good opinion. Perhaps the first question
put to the missionary will be, "Do you want to make men teeto-
talers?" and if the missionary be a rigid abstainer his difficulties will
be increased. Or, he may be invited into the parlour on account of
his respectability, and asked what he will take. And perhaps he
will be considered to have taken a liberty to intrude for a purpose
so different from that of the customers. But in a few moments the
frown of disappointment, if not vexation, will be exchanged for
the smile of approval, as the proprietor will say, "Well, no doubt,
your purpose is good, and you are welcome here." Indeed, the
landlords have a deep personal regard for the visitor. In hundreds
of instances they have given their hearty welcomes, and have well
appreciated the errand on which the missionaries have been sent.
Even some landladies will distribute the tracts which are left with
them for the benefit of the most depraved of their customers. Cards
containing mottoes prettily printed-such as, "Be sober," "Swear
not at all," "Thou God seest me," &c., to the number of over five-
hundred, have been distributed among publicans, and exhibited by
them; some having previously enframed them in rosewood. "When-
ever a customer swears," says one publican, “I direct him to that
card, and it has checked many persons in using bad language.'
<
Mate, we musn't swear now," said a man to his companion. "Ah!
that's coming it too strong," remarked another, "if they left out Be
sober,' it would do very well." In a club-room in a public-house in
Lower Shadwell, each man who swears is fined one penny. There are
many instances of a like nature, proving that when the patronage of
publicans is obtained, good is frequently done. Many of them have
manifested a kind of pride in having their establishments visited by a
missionary. They have introduced him to their astonished patrons,
and his efforts have been favourably referred to and highly com-
mended by them. In two instances, they have insisted upon having
the missionary's portrait taken, and have made him presents.
A few such publicans have been brought to the Saviour's feet,
bowed down under the masterly influences of deep contrition. Their
<<
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THE PUBLIC-HOUSES.
151
wives, too, are often impressed with the importance of eternity and
its solemn issues. Some of them are Christian women, striving earn-
estly to counteract by personal piety and constant pleading with
their children, the evil influences under which their families are
brought. Surrounded by such a miasma, it is no small difficulty for
the flower of Christian virtues to grow. The soil is ungenial, the
breezes are unhealthy, and the gloomy clouds too thick for the bright-
ness of heaven's cheering rays. The missionaries declare that many
publicans are unhappy in their business. One of their reports states:
"The landlady of the told me, with tears streaming from her
eyes, that she felt her soul was lost, and that she had been training
up her children for hell all the years that she had been in the beer-
trade:And now that my children have grown up,' she added,
'they turn round and abuse me; and if I talk to them about reli-
gion, they call me a maniac.'" Some publicans resist altogether the
thought of religion, and abandon themselves to despair and to their
evil destiny. A publican said to a missionary, "I can't be religious
if I would. You come and take my place for twelve months, and
that will soon knock all religion out of you."
one of them advertises a gin-palace to let, doing £250 a week over
the bar," and another is known to pay £300 a month for malt—is a
great barrier to a religious life. An increasing number are desirous
of closing on the Sabbath day. Many do this already. Others are
undergoing a favourable change of opinion on the subject. Still,
these, I fear, are comparatively few; and although the missionaries
seem to write hopefully as to the feeling among the publicans, the
recent strong opposition to the bill placed before Parliament for
restrictions upon Sunday trading does not speak favourably of the
opinions of this class.
Their great gains-
CC
woman.
It would seem that in most districts there is a much larger pro-
portion of men than of women who visit beer-houses. We are told
by one of the mission agents that he meets with ten men to one
This average would not be found, of course, in gin-palaces,
where a larger number of disreputable women congregate. But the
women who are generally seen in common beer-houses are of the
most degraded type. Their language is frequently beyond descrip-
tion. Tho men blaspheme at intervals, but the women seem never
to stop, or allow of the possibility of an interval. The proprietors
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
I
of beer-houses, in low districts, get up special attractions for their
customers. They have, as the police-courts sometimes reveal, "rat-
pits," and bets are made upon dogs killing a given number of rats.
within a stated time. As an instance of the power of drinking
habits, and the accommodating policy of the publicans, the Ber-
mondsey missionary informed me that women will take off some of
their clothing, and hand it over the bar for gin to the publican, who
will retain the article until it is redeemed--of course, a perfectly
illegal procedure, but one, I am assured, that is by no means un-
B
on t
common.
A missionary's round on the Sunday night is full of incident. Rude
and lewd talk is not banished. He goes in one tap-room, and finds
a score of youths, with short-cropped hair, showing that their per
sonal liberty has been guarded within prison walls, gambling for
money. He is roughly received, but securing their attention by a
reference to a forthcoming royal marriage, lie passes on to Lord's
parable of the marriage of the King's son. Some of the lads are
deeply interested, and these leave the place for private conversation,
outside. In the parlour of the next beer-house, there are several
tradesman and three young Frenchmen who wish to have a contro-
versy respecting the claims of the Pope. In another public house,
there are a number of Irish labourers, and-for the missionary
always aims at appositeness-the parable of the builders is recited.
The bar of another house is filled with soldiers. The missionary
observes the entrance of a jolly-looking sailor, in company with a
young woman. He tells them when Nelson at Trafalgar was shot,
he cried, "I conquer," but he died; when the Christian died he
cried, "I conquer" too, but he lived for ever. In the next tap-we
are using one of the reports of the missionary-are some navvies, and
two men who are deaf and dumb. With these latter, a conversation
is entered upon by means of scraps of paper. A low gin-shop is next
visited. "The bar was crowded with men of the baser sort. The
barman held up the tract, and then tore it to pieces. He quickly ex-
claimed, "We expect that sort of thing, I am a sower come out to
sow, and some of my seed is sure to fall upon the wayside, or among
thorns. The men pressed round him, one of them declaring that
Bishop Colenso had proved the Bible to be all a lie. He therefore took
his seat upon a barrel, and read Matthew viii, 312, with com-.
J
A
>
THE PUBLIC-HOUSES.
153
ments." Perhaps none of these men, and thousands are met with in
the course of a few months, are ever seen again; so that the results
of this unobtrusive effort cannot be fully known until the day of uni-
versal revelation. A few months ago, a visit was paid to a thieves'
den; and as this will form the best illustration of the work of the
missionaries among the lowest class of people, I give it entire :
+.
.<3
"One evening I met with a thief of my acquaintance, who informed me that
'a lot of chaps was as how going to have a little jaw together at the beershop.'
By this I understood that thieves of his order were to have a meeting among
themselves. I therefore bent my steps towards the place. There were only
two men before the bar, to whom I said a few words. The tap-room is in a very
awkward place. A door opens from the bar into a dark passage conducting to
the tap-room. As I approached this, the landlord, in an angry tone, exclaimed
'Don't go there.' I, however, hurried through. Upon entering the tap, I was
met with a loud expression of disapprobation. About thirty men and youths
were present, two of whom I know to be ticket-of-leave men, and several were
known thieves. The majority were of the class known as 'sneaks,' or common
thieves, and I was surprised to see several gentlemanly-looking men among
them, evidently ' magsmen' or 'pickpockets.' It is true, strange as it may appear,
that these classes keep very distinct. They rarely fraternise; the one class, I
suppose, feeling the pride of ability and rank, and the other being conscious of
their inferior position. I was, therefore, surprised at finding the two classes
together. It was evident that a common interest or danger had brought them
there. Three or four ordered me out, but there was a friendly smile upon
several faces. I therefore exclaimed, Pretty fellows, indeed, to hold a secret
meeting; why I could not come down the Marylebone-road without hearing
about you, "Well,' I continued, after a pause, 'You know I'm safe, and I
have come to do you a good turn-the best thing one man can do for
another.' I was stopped by one of the men, a thorough rough, handing me
a copy of the Times newspaper. It was dirty and beer-stained. He enquired
if that was not a disgrace to the country? and if I thought men were to be
treated without justice, like savages, because they were unfortunate? and if I
didn't think that the man who wrote that ought to be garrotted? The article
in question approved of the severe sentence passed upon some prisoners for
street robbery, with violence. I quickly changed. the subject by telling them
that I had read in French history of a prison in which a blacksmith was kept to
rivet fetters upon the limbs of the unfortunate prisoners. They listened with
breathless interest to the narrative. I then told them that all men who commit
sin forge their own fetters, and so bind themselves to sin and hell. But,
exclaimed in a less solemn tone, seven hundred years before Jesus Christ
was born, a prophet wrote of him as the great fetter breaker, that he should
proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are
bound. I commented upon these words in connexion with Luke iv. 16-20,
20
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
for about ten minutes amidst profound silence, and ended by giving them an
carnest call to repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus. The men seemed sub-
dued, and discussed the difficulty of getting an honest living, after having
been convicted. One of them remarked, 'You made a Christian of 'Rattling
Bill' (a young mau named.) I told them about his conversion, and the
points of several letters I received from him and from the chaplain of Dartmoor
Convict Establishment, of bis enlisting as a soldier, and his happy death in
India. This was another matter of interest, so I stayed for more than an
hour. At leaving, several followed me out, and walked part of the way home
with me.
I gave my address, and am glad to add that I received visits from
three of them. One, who had not been convicted, though charged, bas en-
listed into the army and another called to tell me that he had obtained work
at a wharf. In each of these cases there seemed to be deep religious impres-
sions. I cannot, with certainty, say more."
It will be seen, from what has been already stated, that for this
peculiar work, the greatest prudence and the utmost possible in-
genuity are pre-requisites. These must be partly natural gifts.
Quickly to seize hold of opportune moments, to keep a sharp look-
out for any passing event or incident that may introduce some por-
tion of scriptural teaching, and to do this so surreptitiously as not
to lash the conceited and the sceptical into fury, and so simply as
not to be above the comprehension of the most muddled and fuddled
intellect, is the distinctive work of the eight missionaries employed
by the City Mission in this department of Christian labour. Take
some cases. The Bermondsey missionary was once amused by two
soldiers, one of whom seriously advised the order to "open his mouth
and shut his eyes, to see what God would send him." The soldier
was fool enough to close his eyes, and open his good-sized mouth. In
the twinkling of an eye, the missionary stepped up, and thrust a
tract in the stupid fellow's mouth, observing that there was more
probability of God's sending him that, than that he should have sent
what his comrade was about to give him. And so, this tract and
incident formed a suitable introduction to a conversation on the
bread of heaven. The news of the day necessarily forms the staple
topic of discourse in public-houses. When any great event occurs,
it is the universal subject of conversation in beer-houses. After the
wreck of the " London," some men in Bethnal Green refused to re-
ceive the missionary's tracts, on the ground of their unbelief in the
efficacy of prayer. "Were not the sailors all praying?" observed
one of the men, “but God did not hear or answer, for the ship went.
THE PUBLIC-HOUSES.
155
K
down and they were all drowned; and I have been ill for two years,
and praying for health all the time; but I am no better, so I think I
will give over praying." 'There are so many religions-which are
we to believe?" is a question often put, and the missionary who
quotes and comments on the Saviour's own words, "This is life eter-
nal, to know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou
hast sent," will be more likely to satisfactorily auswer the question
than if he were to talk to them about the distinctive peculiarities
of Protestantism, or of any section of the Protestant church. When
in February, 1864, the execution took place at Old Bailey of five
pirates, a publican said to one of the missionaries, "Let us have a
lecture on capital punishment, for we very much need it from the
the appearance outside." This afforded an opportunity for the pro-
clamation of the great truths of the Cross, and the vicarious death
thereon of the Lord. "We don't believe in God," observed a publi-
can in the west end. "Oh," replied the missionary, pointing to a
jug of flowers—
"No God 1 no God! the simplest flower
That in the wild is found,
Shrinks as it drinks its cup of dew,
And trembles at the sound."
"There is a God, my friend—a flower-maker and a star-maker, and
in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he raised
from the dead.” "You're a good chap, and no gammon," remarked
a rough-looking fellow. "Ah, if that's true," answered the mission-
ary, "I was'nt so once; if I show the portrait of the kind of charac-
ter I was before God saved me, you would say, 'He is a bad chap,
and no gammon. And so, there followed a short discourse on
man's condition by nature, and the contrast-man saved by divine
grace.
})}
We will briefly epitomise some of the remarkable cases which the
missionaries have reported to the City Mission Magazine. One, mis-
sionary can report the change of life of three hundred souls, and
although some have gone back into "the beggarly elements of the
world," he rejoices that "a number of his mission children," are
walking in the truth. One stout-willed, contemptuous landord, who
had made a small fortune at the Australian gold-diggings, amused
himself at the missionary's expense whenever he visited his bar.
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
(C
One Sunday, in the midst of the derision which was being heaped
upon the messenger of good tidings, a lamplighter was observed to
light a lamp at the door, and to walk in the bar-room and call for a
pint." The missionary, who was in want of an illustration, immediate-
ly pointed towards the new comer, and observed,
and observed, "I'm in that line of
business," "Indeed! how is that?" He was not only obtained a
light in his lamp there, but he runs about with his ladder over his
shoulder, lighting up all the dark lamps in the street. Well, the
Saviour of the world has called our hearts lamps. Some men are
wise, and get the dight of salvation in them; others are foolish, and
walk in darkness. Now, when a man obtains spiritual light he
becomes a 'light bearer,' and this is why I have come in here, to give
each of you the glorious light of the gospel of Christ." The men
listened; so did the landlord. The Holy Spirit's work of regenera-
tion was the topic; the Holy Spirit's power was felt, and the land-
lord, once so sturdy and derisive, was influenced by a supernatural
conviction that changed the current of his thoughts, For some time
he struggled against the miserable evils of his trade. He closed his
house on the Sabbath. He declined to serve drunkards. He proposed
giving up business, but ere his plans were perfected, he was seized
with disease, from which he suffered for many months. His sickness
aided his spiritual growth. His spiritual growth ripened him for
heaven. He died a believer, and his wife lived to manifest "like
precious faith." Similar cases might be mentioned; cases in which
the closing of the beer-house on the Sunday has been the precursor
of the greatest gain-the hope of heaven. One landlord gave up
Sunday trading, and found the Sabbath a rich possession. And now
"his wife and grown-up daughters confess Christ, and by their lives
give evidence of a work of grace."
Take another instance of conver-
sion through public-house visitation. One of the agents, in visiting a
public-house, met with an aged man, who had the appearance of a
gentleman, in the parlour :-
i
Totally
"A pleasant remark was made about his lonely position, and I asked permis-
sion ' to put the question to him which a great King who sat upon the throne of
the Pharaohs once put to an aged man who was led up to his throne.' He smiled
and said, 'Certainly.' 'Well, then,' I continued, 'how old art thou?'' Eighty-
four,' he replied. 'That,' I added, 'is not so good an answer as good old Jacob
gave; he said that his days had been few, but of many sorrows; has it not been
so with you?
$
'It has,' he answered. But,' I continued, he called life the
OR
i
THE PUBLIC-HOUSES.
157
days of the years of his pilgrimage-has yours been a pilgrimage to the better
country?' As I spoke the tears trickled down his cheeks, and he replied, 'That
is my trouble ; my life has been prosperous, and I have an ample fortune, but for
some years past I have felt crushed under the weight of my sins. I know that
my days are few, and at times I am so unhappy that I leave home and wander
about. That was the case this morning, and I felt weary as I passed here, and
as no one was in the parlour I stepped in for a glass of sherry.' This he had
before him. He gave anxious heed while I dwelt upon the meaning of the Savi-
our's sweetest name, 'even Jesus,' and told him about the Father's love. Several
rough men came in, and we rose to leave. He then offered me his hand, and
said, 'Do let me see you again, sir; come and dine with me.' I promised to call
upon him, and we exchanged cards. Since then I have seen him frequently, and
I have sought his salvation with much conversation and prayer. Upon a recent
visit he received me with a smile, and said, 'Oh! Mr. W, I have cast all
upon the Saviour, and can now say, 'Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in
peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation,' I continue to visit him, and I
believe that he is saved."
We might go on with such instances our patience is not exhaust-
ed-but our space is already filled. We might give instances of
conversions of landlords who have, for conscience sake, given up their
businesses, and sacrificed much for principles for which no sacrifice
can be too great; of drunkards who have dashed away the tempta-
tion, and accounted it for ever accursed; of harlots who have been
rescued even in the midst of the bewitching enchantments of gaiety;
of infidels who have turned from the intoxications of self-conceit,
and-have humbled themselves under the simple verities of the gospel;
of sailors who, scarce landed on shore, have, by divine grace, aban-
doned the infatuations of passion, and sought the soberer and more
enduring joys of a life of faith; of the conversion of those who but
for the criminal fastidiousness of those who should have warned
them, might long ago have turned from the corrupting paths of licen-
tiousness-young men who have been caught up in the whirpool of
London fast life, and who after a round of false pleasures have been
mercifully delivered from the torture-room of abused outraged na-
ture, in which room "Nature casts down the wretch, searches every
vein, makes a road of every nerve for the scorching feet of pain to
travel on, pulls at every muscle, breaks in the breast, builds fires in
the brain, eats out the skin, and casts living coals of torment on the
heart." Let the agonies witnessed in hospitals where the victims of
gaiety ooze out the remnant of a sin-besotted life, be a justification
158
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
more than sufficient for missionary operations among those who, en-
tangled by vice, must, but for the mercy and restraints of heaven, go
down from the strange woman's house through the corridors of hell,
even to "the chambers of death."
CHAPTER XVII.
"
}
THE SEVEN EVILS OF LONDON.
The first of the seven evils of London is " neglected children.”
Well may the writer call it a startling fact, that in England and
Wales, three hundred and fifty thousand children, under the age of
sixteen, are dependent more or less on parish authorities for main-
tenance; in London alone, one hundred thousand children wander in
destitution, preparing for the gaols or for the early graves. Children
of the gutter, their food is scant, their lodging foul, their clothing
ragged. Even when blessed with a mother, the young Arabs neither
fare sumptuously by night nor by day. Cradled in a gooseberry
sieve, or nestled in an egg box, the babies of the poorest class have
no injurious luxury to enervate them. Strange facts came under my
own observation. "Accompanied by a friend, I was on a visit of
exploration into the little-known regions of Baldwin's Gardens, in
Leather Lane, and entering a cellar there, the family who occupied it
were discovered in a state of dreadful commotion. The mother, a tall,
bony, ragged shrew, had a baby tucked under one arm, while she
was using the other by the aid of a pair of dilapidated nozzleless
bellows in inflicting a tremendous beating on a howling young gen-
tleman of about eleven years old. Tut! tut! what is the matter,
Mrs. Donelly? Rest your arm a moment, now, and tell us all about
it.' 'Mather! shure it's matther enough to dhrive a poor widdy...
beyant her senses!' And then her rage turning to sorrow, she in
pathetic terms described how that she left that bad boy Johnny only
for a few moments in charge of the 'darlint comfortable ashleap
in her bashket,' and that he had neglected his duty, and that the
baste of a donkey had smelt her out, and ate her clane out o' bed.'
It was not long after the incident of the gooseberry sieve,
that I discovered in one small room in which a family of six resided,
three little children, varying in age from three to eight, perhaps,
K
THE SEVEN EVILS OF LONDON.
159
stark naked.
It was noon of a summer's day, and there they were
nude as forest monkeys, and so hideously dirty that every rib-bone
in their poor wasted little bodies showed plain, and in colour like
mahogany. Soon as I put my head in at the door they scattered,
scared as rabbits, to the bed,' an arrangement of evil-smelling flock
and old potato-sacks, and I was informed by the mother that they
had not a rag to wear, and had been in their present condition for
more than three months.”
I
Had the stories told of the food of little Arab hordes in London
streets been narrated by a missionary as being, true of Chinese
or Patagonians, our hair would be on end with horror; but many
will read the following with complacency. "They draw a consider-
able amount of their sustenance from the markets. And really it
would seem that by some miraculous dispensation of Providence,
garbage was for their sake robbed of its poisonous properties, and
endowed with virtues such as wholesome food possesses. Did the
reader ever see the young market hunters at such a 'feed,' say in
the month of August or September? It is a spectacle to be witness-
ed only by early risers who can get as far as Covent Garden by the
time that the wholesale dealing in the open falls slack-which will
be about eight o'clock; and it is not to be believed unless it is seen.
They will gather about a muck heap and gobble up plums, a swelter-
ing mass of decay, and oranges and apples that have quite lost their
original shape and colour, with the avidity of ducks or pigs. I speak
according to my knowledge, for I have seen them at it. I have
seen one of these gaunt wolfish little children with his tattered cap
full of plums of a sort one of which I would not have permitted a
child of mine to eat for all the money in the Mint.
Very painful are the results of enquiries into the parentage of
these "rank outsiders" of humanity, these wretched waifs and strays
of the race; and if possible, even worse are the revelations concern-
ing the baby-farming, and other forms by which certain of these poor
little souls are reared, or rather, murdered wholesale. Advertise-
ments for nurse children, and for babes to be adopted, mean a great
deal more than unsuspecting readers have usually imagined. How
many babes have passed into eternity through the "ha'p'orth of
bread and a ha'p'orth of milk a-day" system, eternity alone can re-
$
.veal. No longer need we wonder at the large proportion of infantile
160
ENGLISHMEN AT HO ME.
:
mortality. But what unnatural, brutal sin does all this mean! How
must God be provoked as he sees his children deserted of their
parents, his babes left as beasts leave not their young! Should
these poor creatures live, and become bread-winners on their own
account, they do but escape the ogres to fall into the way of harpies
equally as vile. The amusements provided for the youth of London
are many of them such as Sodom could have never excelled for their
depravity. The low theatre, and the penny gaff, are simply open
doors to hell; they smell of Tophet, and this makes them none the
less profitable. "Now that the police are to be roused to increased
vigilance in the suppression, as well as the arrest of criminality, it
would be as well if those in authority directed their especial attention
to these penny theatres. As they at present exist, they are nothing
better than hot-beds of vice in its vilest forms. Girls and boys of
tender age are herded together to witness the splendid achievements
of 'dashing highwaymen,' and of sirens of the Starlight Sall School;
nor is this all. But bad as this is, it is really the least part of the
evil. The penny 'gaff' is usually a small place, and when a speci-
ally atrocious piece produces a corresponding 'run,' the 'house' is
incapable of containing the vast number of boys and girls who
nightly flock to see it. Scores would be turned away from the doors,
and their halfpence wasted, were it not for the worthy proprietor's
ingenuity. I am now speaking of what I was an actual witness of
in the neighbourhood of Shoreditch. Beneath the pit and stage of
the theatre was a sort of large kitchen, reached from the end of the
passage that was the entrance to the theatre, by a flight of steep
stairs. There were no seats in this kitchen, nor furniture of any
kind. There was a window looking toward the street, but this was
prudently boarded up. At night time all the light allowed in the
kitchen proceeded from a feeble and dim gas jet by the wall over
the fire-place.
"Wretched and dreary-looking as was this underground chamber,
it was a source of considerable profit to the proprietor of the 'gaff"
over-head. As before stated, when anything peculiarly attractive
was to be seen, the theatre filled within ten minutes of opening the
besieged doors. Not to disappoint the late comers, however, all who
pleased might pay and go down-stairs until the performance just
commenced (it lasted generally about an hour and a-half) terminated..
THE SEVEN EVILS OF LONDON.
161
The prime inducement held out was, that 'then they would be sure
of good seats.' The inevitable result of such an arrangement may be
easier guessed than described. For my part, I know no more about
it than was to be derived from a hasty glance from the stair-head.
There was a stench of tobacco smoke, and an uproar of mingled youth-
ful voices-swearing, chaffing, and screaming, in boisterous mirth.
This was all that was to be heard, the Babel charitably rendering
distinct pronouncing of blasphemy of indecency unintelligible. Nor
was it much easier to make out the source from whence the hideous
clamour proceeded, for the kitchen was dim as a coal cellar, and was
further obscured by the foul tobacco smoke the lads were emitting
from their short pipes. A few were romping about—'larking,' as
it is termed—but the majority, girls and boys, were squatted on the
floor, telling and listening to stories, the quality of which might
but too truly be guessed from the sort of applause they elicited. A
few-impatient of the frivolity that surrounded them, and really
anxious for the play'-stood apart, gazing with scowling envy
up at the celling, on the upper side of which, at frequent intervals,
there was a furious clatter of hobnailed boots, betokening the deli-
rious delight of the happy audience in full view of Starlight Sall,
in 'silk tights' and Hessians, dancing a Highland fling. Goaded
to desperation, one or two of the tormented ones down in the
kitchen reached up with their sticks and beat on the ceiling a tattoo,
responsive to the battering of the hobnailed boots before mentioned.
This, however, was a breach of 'gaff' rule that could not be tolerated.”
•
In the chamber of horrors the second door admits us to a view of
professional thieves, an army, at least, twenty thousand strong.
Think of that! remembering that this number is little short of the
membership of all the Baptist churches in London; and painfully
reflecting that every individual member of this synagogue of Satan
is an earnest, genuine worker in the evil cause. If this vast and
valiant host comprehended all the villainy of London the plague
would be deep and horrible enough; but, alas! the infection of dis-
honesty taints all classes of the community, and honesty is almost
as rare as in those days when the prophet complained that the best
of them was (
as a thorn-hedge."
Professional beggars figure in the third department; and from our
own large and troublesome experience we can more than confirm
21
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
many of Mr. Greenwood's statements. That there are beggars in
London whose poverty is pitiable, and who richly deserve assistance,
we know; but that mendicancy is with thousands a profitable trade,
a resort for the idle and the vicious, we are equally certain. Mere
singing in the street, squatting down in theatrical destitution on a
doorstep, or exhibiting sham sores are old and timeworn dodges,
which are but poorly remunerative; but the begging-letter dodge,
the newspaper scheme, and other delicate processes of imposture, are
still profitable speculations, and support an army of the vilest loafers
that ever disgraced a city.
On the fourth point, the curse of fallen women we confess to be
widely at variance with Mr. Greenwood's statements. We deprecate
from the bottom of our hearts the idea of licensing prostitution. The
French method, so far from having their admiration of the English
people, excites their loathing. May God avert from England the
abiding pestilence of systematic debauchery, by which sin is made
easy, and the path to hell more fascinating than ever. Yet England's
social evil is intolerable in its present shape, and something must be
done to repress it.
The crowning curse is drunkenness, which indeed is related to all
the others, and is often their mother and always their nurse. Here
it is not possible for the subject to be too highly wrought. We have
heard it averred of Mr. Greenwood that he colours a subject quite
sufficiently, and is no mean proficient in the imaginative, but in his
volume we see no evidence to substantiate the charge, perhaps be-
cause the fault was impossible. The liquor served out for public
consumption at the gin-palaces, beer-houses, and drinking bars, if all
be true, would defile the foulest kennel; and if the whole stock were
poured out into Barking Creek it would be well. Ordinary hard
drinking does quite mischief enough without the added horror of the
fact that men and women swallow seas of disgusting mixtures in
which coculus indicus, foxglove, green copperas, hartshorn shavings,
henbane, jalap, nut galls, nux vomica, opium, vitriol, potash, quas-
sia, yew-tops, and alum, are the choicer ingredients. No wonder
the topers grow mad drunk, the marvel is they do not die outright.
It ought to need no persuasion to induce men totally to abstain
from such abominations as the beers and porters, the wines and
spirits, of most of the licensed poison-shops.
THE SEVEN EVILS OF LONDON.
163
:
This demon of drink must be fought, for it swallows men by
thousands, makes their homes wretched, their children paupers, and
their souls the prey of the devil. There should be combined and
vigorous action among all temperate men for such a control of
licenses that the dens of drunkenness should be made far less numer-
ous. The Englishmen unmistakably overdone with gin-palaces and
beer-houses; they are thrust upon them at every street-corner; they
are multiplied beyond all pretence of demand. Not the public good
but the publican's good appears to be the aim of the licensers.
Quiet neighbourhoods cannot spring up because the beer-house rises
simultaneously; or if such a thing should for a few months be seen
⚫under heaven as a sober region, universally respectable, and guiltless
of intoxication, the Bacchanalian missionary soon opens his temple
and converts the population to the common error of drinking ways.
It is true, the demand for drink creates the supply, but it is as surely
true that the all-surrounding omnipresence of the stimulant sug-
gests, and propagates the craving. At any rate, no two opinions
can exist upon one point, namely, that the accursed habit of intoxi-
cation lies at the root of the main part of London's poverty, misery,
and crime.
Betting gamblers, in the sixth place, come in for their share of
Mr. Greenwood's condemnation. "There can be no doubt that the
vice of gambling is on the increase amongst the English working-
classes. Of this no better proof is afforded than in the modern
multiplication of those newspapers specially devoted to matters
'sportive.' Twenty years ago there were three or four sporting
newspapers published in London; now there are more than a dozen.”
Those who occupy the highest ranks of the social scale have the
fearful responsibility of rendering gambling fashionable, and their
example has had its influence upon all ranks, until even children bet
their shillings and the lads of the gutter cry the odds. A tribe of
"prophets," blacklegs, and advertisers, feed upon this growing vice,
swarming about it like flies around carrion. Marvellous are the
fortunes to be made by "putting on " a few pounds, and rich are
the promised gains of even a dozen postage stamps, staked upon the
horse whose name will be communicated upon the receipt of a fee;
more marvellous still is the senseless folly which can be duped by
such manifest quackery.
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
"Of all manner of advertising betting gamblers, however, none
are so pernicious, or work such lamentable evil against society, as those
who, with devilish cunning, appeal to the young and inexperienced
the factory lad and youth of the counting house or the shop.
Does anyone doubt if horse-racing has attractions for those whose
tender age renders it complimentary to style them 'young men'ʼn
Let him on the day of any great race convince himself. Let him
make a journey on the afternoon of 'Derby-day,' for instance, to
Fleet-street or the Strand, where the offices of the sporting news-
papers are situated. It may not be generally known that the pro-
prietors of the Sunday Times, Bell's Life, and other journals of a
sporting tendency, in their zeal to outdo each other in presenting
the earliest possible information to the public, are at the trouble
and expense of securing the earliest possible telegram of the result
of a horse-race, and exhibiting it enlarged on a broad-sheet in their
shop-windows. Let us take the Sunday Times, for instance. The
office of this most respectable of sporting newspapers is situated
near the corner of Fleet-street at Ludgate-hill; and wonderful is
the spectacle there to be seen on the afternoon of the great equine
contest on Epsom downs. On a small scale, and making allowance
for the absence of the living provocatives of excitement, the scene
is a reproduction of what at that moment, or shortly since, has
taken place on the race-course itself. Three o'clock is about the
time the great race is run at Epsom, and at that time the Fleet-
street crowd begins to gather. It streams in from the north, from
the east, from the south. At a glance it is evident that the mem-
bers of it are not idly curious merely. It is not composed of ordi-
nary pedestrians who happen to be coming that way. Butcher-lads,
from the neighbouring great meat-market, come bareheaded and
perspiring down Ludgate-hill, and at a pace that tells how exclusively
their eager minds are set on racing: all in blue working smocks, and
with the grease and blood of their trade adhering to their naked arms,
and to their hobnailed boots and to their hair. Hot and palpitating
they reach the obelisk in the middle of the road; and there they
take their stand, with their eyes steadfastly fixed on that at present
blank and innocent window that shall presently tell them of their fate.
"I mention the butcher-boys first, because, for some unknown
reason, they undoubtedly are foremost in the rank of juvenile bet.
4
tryin JVT-
THE SEVEN EVILS OF LONDON.
165
tors. In the days when the Fleet-lane betting abomination as yet
held out against the police authorities, and day after day a narrow
alley behind the squalid houses there served as standing room for
as many 'professional' betting men, with their boards and money-
pouches, as could crowd in a row, an observer standing at one
end of the lane might count three blue frocks for one garment of
any other colour. But though butcher-boys show conspicuously
among the anxious Fleet-street rush on a Derby-day, they are not
in a majority by a long way. To bet on the 'Derby' is a mania
that afflicts all trades; and streaming up Farringdon-street may be
seen representatives of almost every craft that practises within the
City's limits. There is the inky printer's boy, hot from the
'machine-room,' with his grimy face and his cap made of a ream
wrapper; there is the jweller's apprentice, with his bibbed white
apron, ruddy with the powder of rouge and borax ; and the paper-
stainer's lad, with the variegated splashes of the pattern of his last
'length' yet wet on his ragged breeches; and a hundred others all
hurrying pell-mell to the one spot, and, in nine cases out of ten,
with the guilt of having slipped out' visible on their streaming
faces. Take their ages as they congregate in a crowd of five hun-
dred and more (they are expected in such numbers that special
policemen are provided to keep the roadway clear), and it
will be found that more than half are under the age of
eighteen. Furthermore, it must be borne in mind that in
the majority of cases a single lad represents a score or
more employed in one 'office' or factory. They cast lots who
shall venture on the unlawful mission, and it has fallen on him.
Again, and as before mentioned, the Sunday Times is but one of ten
or a dozen sporting newspapers published between Ludgate-hill and
St. Clement Danes; and in the vicinity of every office may be met
a similar crowd. Let the reader bear these ts in mind, and he
may arrive at some faint idea of the prevalence of the horse-gamb-
ling evil amongst the rising generation."
•
The following portrait, drawn from the life, is no doubt a fair
specimen of the victims of the gambling demon. While the betting-
men were making a stand in Farringdon-street in the open air
against the city authorities, Mr. Greenwood made the acquaintance
of the subject of his story. "I had noticed him repeatedly, with
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
his pale haggard face and his dull eyes, out of which nothing but
weariness of life looked. He was a tall slim young fellow, and wore
his patched and seedy clothes as though he had been used to better
attire; and, despite the tell-tale shabbiness of his boots and his
wretched tall black hat, he still clung to the respeetable habit of
wearing black kid-gloves, though it was necessary to shut his fists
to hide the dilapidations at their finger-tips.
"He was not remarkable amongst the betting blackguards he min-
gled with on account of the active share he took in the questionable
business in which they were engaged; on the contrary, he seemed
quite out of place with them, and though occasionally one would
patronise him with a nod, it was evident that he was 'nothing to
them,' either as a comrade or a gull to be plucked. He appeared to
be drawn towards them by a fascination he could not resist, but
which he deplored and was ashamed of. It was customary in those
times for the prosperous horse-betting gambler to affect the genteel
person who could afford to keep a 'man,' and to press into his service
some poor ragged wretch glad to earn a sixpence by wearing his mas-
ter's 'card of terms' round his neck for the inspection of any person
inclined to do business. The tall shabby young fellow's chief occupa-
tion consisted in wandering restlessly from one of these betting-card
bearers to another, evidently with a view to comparing 'prices' and
'odds' offered on this or that horse; but he never bet. I don't
believe that his pecuniary affairs would have permitted him, even
though a bet as low as twopence-halfpenny might be laid.
"I was always on the look-out for my miserable-looking young
friend whenever I passed that way, and seldom failed to find him.
He seemed to possess for me a fascination something like that which
horse-betting possessed for him. One afternoon, observing him alone
and looking even more miserable than I had yet seen him, as he
slouched along the my pavement towards Holborn, I found means to
start a conversation with him. My object was to learn who and what
he was, and whether he was really as miserable as he looked, and
whether there was any help for him. I was prepared to exercise all
the ingenuity at my command to compass this delicate project, but
he saved me the trouble. As though he was glad of the chance of
doing so, before we were half-way up Holborn-hill he turned the
conversation exactly into the desired groove, and by the time the
THE SEVEN EVILS OF LONDON.
167
I
Tottenham-road was reached (he turned down there), I knew even
more of his sad history than is here subjoined.
"What is the business pursuit that takes me amongst the betting-
men? Oh no, sir, I'm not at all astonished that you should ask
the question; I've asked it of myself so often, that it doesn't come
new to me. I pursue no business, sir. What business could a
wretched scare-crow like I am pursue? Say that I am pursued, and
you will be nearer the mark. Pursued by what I can never get
Pursueć
away from or shake off."
"He uttered a concluding wicked word with such decisive and
bitter emphasis, that I began to think that he had done with the sub-
ject; but he began again almost immediately.
"I wish to the Lord I had a business pursuit! If ever a fellow
was tired of his life, I am. Well-yes, I am a young man ; but it's
precious small consolation that that fact brings me. Hang it, no!
All the longer to endure it. How long have I endured it? Ah,
now you come to the point. For years, you think, I daresay. You
look at me, and you think to yourself, "There goes a poor wretch
who has been on the downhill road so long that it's time that he came
to the end of it, or made an end to it." There you are mistaken.
Eighteen months ago I was well dressed and prosperous. I was
second clerk to the provision merchants, in St. Mary Axe, on
a salary of a hundred and forty pounds-rising twenty each year.
Now look at me!
“You need not ask me how it came about. You say that you have
seen me often in Farringdon-street with the betting-men, so you can
give a good guess as to how I came to ruin, I'll be bound. Yes, sir,
it is horse-betting that did my business. No, I did not walk to ruin
with my eyes open, and because I liked the road. I was trapped into
it, sir, as I'll be bound scores and scores of young fellows have been.
I never had a passion for betting. I declaret, till within the last
two years, I never made a bet in my life. The beginning of it was
that for the fun of the thing, I wagered ten shillings with a fellow-
clerk about the Derby that was just about to come off. I never took
any interest in horse-racing before; but when I had made that bet
I was curious to look over the sporting news, and to note the odds
against the favourite. One unlucky day I was fool enough to answer
the advertisement of a professional tipster. He keeps the game going
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ENGLISIIMEN AT HOME.
that man.
still, curse him! You may read his name in the papers this morn-
ing. If I wasn't such an infernal coward, you know, I should kill
If I hadn't the money to buy a pistol, I ought to steal
one, and shoot the thief. But, what do you think? I met him ou
Monday, and he chaffed me about my boots. It was raining at the
time. "I wish I had a pair of waterproofs like yours, Bobby. You'll
never take cold while they let all the water out at the heel they take
in at the toe!" Fano me standing that after the way he had served
me! Fancy this too-me borrowing a shilling of him, and saying,
Thank you, sir,' for it! Why, you know, I ought to be pumped on
for doing it!
"Yes, I wrote to "Robert B-y, Esq., of Leicester," and sent
the half-crown's worth of stamps asked for. It doesn't matter what I
got in return. Anyhow, it was something that set my mind on betting,
and I wrote again and again. At first his replies were of a distant
and business-sort; but in a month or so after I had written to him
to complain of being misguided by him, he wrote back a friendly
note to say that he wasn't at all surprised to hear of my little
failures-novices always did fail. They absurdly attempt what they
did not understand. "Just to show you the difference," said he,
"just give me a commission to invest a pound for you on the Ascot
Cup. All that I charge is seven and-a-half per cent. on winnings.
Try it just for once; a pound won't break you, and it may open your
eyes to the way that fortunes are made." I ought to have known
then, that either he, or somebody in London he had set on, had been
making enquiries about me, for the other notes were sent to where
mine were directed from-my private lodgings-but this one came
to me at the warehouse.
CC C
Well, I sent the pound, and within a week received a post-
office order for four pounds eight as the result of its investment.
The same week I bet -two pounds this time-and won one
pound fifteen. That was over six pounds between Monday and
Saturday. "This is the way that fortunes are made," I laughed to
myself, like a fool.
"Well, he kept me going, I don't exactly recollect how, between
Ascot and Goodwood, which is about seven weeks, not more. Some-
times I won, sometimes I lost, but, on the whole, I was in pocket. I
was such a fool at last, that I was always for betting more than he
THE SEVEN EVILS OF LONDON,
169
•
advised.
I've got his letters at home now, in which he says, Pray
don't be rash; take my advice, and bear in mind that great risks
mean great losses, as well as great gains, at times." Quite fatherly,
you know! The scoundrel!
แ
the office for me. I was
"Now you may bag
"Well, one day there came a telegram to
just in from my dinner. It was from B-y.
a hundred pounds at a shot,” said he. "The odds are short but the
result certain. Never mind the money just no. You are a gentle-
You know that my motto has all along
Send me
Go in and win.' It is sure.
man, and I will trust you.
been Caution.' Now it is
a word immediately, or it may be too late; and, if you are wise, put
a. lump' on it."
"That was the infernal document-the death-warrant of all my
good prospects. It was the rascal's candour that deceived me.
He
had all along said, "Be cautious, don't be impatient to launch out;"
and now this patient careful villain saw his chance, and advised,
"Go in and win." I was quite in a maze at the prospect of bagging
a hundred pounds. To win that sum the odds were so short on the
horse he mentioned, that fifty pounds had to be risked. But he said
that there was no risk, and I believed him. I sent him back a tele-
gram at once to execute the commission.
"The horse lost. I knew it next morning before I was up, for I
had sent for the newspaper; and while I was in the midst of my
fright, up comes my landlady to say that a gentleman of the name
of B-y wished to see me.
“'I had never seen him before, and he seemed an easy fellow
enough. He was in a terrible way-chiefly on my account-though
heaven only knew how much he had lost over the 'sell.' He had
come up by express purely to relieve my anxiety, knowing how
'funky' young gentlemen sometimes were over such trifles. Al-
though he had really paid the fifty in hard out of his pocket, he
was in no hurry for it. He would take my bill at two months. It
would be all right, no doubt. He had conceived a liking for me,
merely from my straightforward way of writing. Now that he had
had the pleasure of seeing me, he shouldn't trouble himself a fig if
the fifty that I owed him was five hundred.
"I declare to you that I knew so little about bills, that I didn't
know how to draw one out; but I was mighty glad to be shown the
22
170
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
ENGL
way and to give it him, and thank him over and over again for his
kindness. That was the beginning of my going to the bad. If I
hadn't been a fool, I might have saved myself even then, for I had
friends who would have lent or given me twice fifty pounds if I had
asked them for it. But I was a fool. In the course of a day or two
I got a note from B-y, reminding me that the way out of the diffi
culty was by the same path as I had got into one, and that a little
judicious backing' would set me right before even my bill fell due.
And I was fool enough to walk into the snare. I wouldn't borrow
to pay the fifty pounds, but I borrowed left and right, of my mother,
of my brothers, on all manner of lying pretences, to follow the 'ad-
vice' B-y was constantly sending me. When I came to the end of
their forbearance, I did more than borrow; but that we won't
speak of. In five months from the beginning, I was without a relative
who would own me or speak to me, and without an employer-
cracked up, ruined. And there's B-y, as I said before, with his
white hat cocked on one side of his head, and his gold toothpick,
chaffing me about my old boots. What do I do for a living? Well,
I've told you such a precious lot, I may as well tell you that too.
Where I lodge it's a 'leaving shop,' and the old woman that keeps
it can't read or write, and I keep her 'book' for her. That's how I
get a bit of breakfast and supper and a bed to lie on.'"
We have little space and less heart to take up the seventh curse,
the waste of charity; but we must conclude with entreating the tear-
ful prayers of all God's people for the wicked city; by exhorting all
lovers of truth and righteousness to bestir themselves.
(
CHAPTER XVIII.
DUSTWOMEN.
ONE of the oddest kings in connection with woman's work is the
arbitrary distinction that is drawn between work that is womanly
and work that is not. To be a nurse is womanly enough even in
the estimation of those who regard a lady doctor as a woman who
has lost her sex, and most people who are scandalized at the un-
womanliness of the woman who lectures or preaches see nothing un-
seemly in the posturing of an actress in male attire before the foot-
lights, It is therefore in accordance with precedent that while good
DUSTWOMEN.
171
·
people are shocked at the very idea of women doing well-paid work
monopolized by men, they regard it as a matter of course that as
scavengers and dust women they should do the roughest, and coarsest,
and most repulsive work that falls to the share of the toilers of our
day. There is no work too foul or too severe to which a woman may
not be put-provided always it is not too well paid.
According to the latest Census returns the number of dust-women
is 1,403 in England and Wales. Of these the majority live in the
heart of the metropolis, in the City, at Paddington, at Lambeth, and
in all the poor quarters close to the canals, on both sides of which
the large dust-yards abound. Their number is diminishing. The
dust contractors have of late years introduced machinery, and the
machine has superseded the woman. "It was a bad day some six-
teen years ago," said one of the hoarse-voiced women, who, with
weather-beaten face and dishevelled hair, stood in her doorway,
behind her the blackness of a tumbledown stairs in a house at Pad-
dington, "it was a bad day when the first machine was put up in
yonder yard," pointing to one of the entrances to the wharf oppo-
site. "Until the very day it began to work 150 women were
employed in that place all the year round, but when that rattling
thing first began its noise all were dismissed except twelve, who
were and still are kept on." The "dusters" are strictly conserva-
tive as regards machinery, the few who are at work in yards where
machinery is employed of course excepted. The latter have the
easiest work and the best wages; they themselves as well as their
places are several shades more respectable than the rest, and they
look down in contempt on "them yards," where still, her short pipe
in mouth, the dust woman does her work in sackcloth and ashes,
enlivened by the occasional "drop" so dear to thirsty souls. The
large carts of refuse collected from the millions of London dustbins
are brought into the dustyards and massed into high heaps in front
of the canal, sufficient space, and no more, being left for the women
to stand on the edge of the canal. A boy or girl is posted on the
heap, shovelling with a large spade the refuse into the sieve which
each woman holds before her, when the shout "serve" demands
attention. The sieve filled, the dust woman shakes it, and as the
dust falls through she sorts it. Who could enumerate the thousand
LL
different articles that find their way into the dustbins of London ?
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
With lightning rapidity, she picks them out and throws them sorted
into the different baskets at her back. People often wonder how all
the host of tradesmen get rid of their goods. A look at the cart-
loads of old; kitchen utensils, broken glass and crockery, rags,
papers, bones, bread, and a multitude of other things of all descrip-
tions, which are day after day taken out of all dustyards, will en-
lighten them on that point. Each and all of them are used for
some purpose, and the value
one large dustheap-unsorted-is
said to be as much as £ 4,000 or £5,000. When the cinders and
ashes are all that remain on the sieve, the cinders are thrown on one
side, the ashes fall through, and the sieves are emptied. This goes
an hour after hour all day long, until the woman stands up to her
knees in a pyramid of damp ashes, which are removed to the barges
on the canal when the heap grows high enough to cause inconveni-
ence to the sifter. In cases where the sifting is done by machinery,
the women have only to sort the articles, which is much cleaner
work. In some cases the women are allowed to take a certain quan-
tity of wood and cinders for firing away to their homes, the value
being deducted from the wages; otherwise they are strictly forbid-
den to appropriate any of the articles that find their way into the
sieves. Should a woman be fortunate enough to find a pair of
boots that might do for a member of her family, or a "bit o' flan-
nel" not yet beyond recovery, she applies to the foreman of the
yard, and is generally allowed to retain her treasure. Small coins
are also frequently found. "Often," I was told, "I find two or
three half-pence on a morning, which go to buy the childer a loaf,
but then it is weeks before I find another coin." The mythical tales
about bank-notes and plate being found in the dust are ridiculed
by the women.
The average weekly wages of a dustwoman are ten to eleven shil-
lings. For this she works from half-past six in the morning till
five at night, with three-quarters of an hour for meals. In summer,
when the majority of dust-producing Londoners are out of town,
and when the poor people do not use much fire, the business is
slack, and in many yards the women work only half-time. The
best time is when days are dark, foggy, and cold; then a rich har-
vest is brought into the yards, and the woman rolls up her sleeves
a little higher than usual, thrusts an old sack over her shoulders;
✡
DUSTWOMEN.
173
},
puts on the lightest pair of navvie's boots that she can get, and
plunges into her work. She is not a picturesque spectacle as the
rain drips from her face and hair on the coal-crust of her arms,
leaving little rills of flesh colour in the pitch-black surface. But
trying as the work may appear to the uninitiated, there are few
emale workers who can boast of more robust health than these
women of the dustyards. Their features may be swollen by drink,
or brutalized by immorality, but there are no sickly faces to be seen
The age
among them, for weak women could not stand the work.
of the dust woman ranges from fourteen years to above sixty. Of
the latter there are not a few, and the old ladies are the liveliest of
the party, raising with pointed speech many a roar of laughter and
approval. Most of the women, however, are middle-aged, with a
large, increasing family at their homes, such as they are. If there
is a girl of ten to twelve among the children, the rest are left in
her care till she is old enough to begin work in the yard; if there
is no elder child, the small children are put under the care of
another woman, who is paid by the week. The question, 'Why do
you not let your daughter go to service or try to get some cleaner
work?" is invariably answered by "The girls like this better." "They
are out in the air all the day; cau do what they like when they get
home; and if they go into factories their wages are no better, and
they have to work as hard, and harder, at unheathly work."
Concerning the homes of these "fairies," as they are called, it is
the old story. Whole families of six or seven parents, grown-up
sons and daughters, young children, and babies-all live and sleep
in one small room, where day after day a fire is kept up, where
the air is foul within and pestilential without. But few among
the dustwomen can think of keeping their little hovel decent; when
work is over at five o'clock-and, though healthy, they all admit that
it is "dragging" work-they come home aroom full of hungry
children, who all must be satisfied. The husband also has to be
attended to; there are
CC rags "to wash and mend, the dinner for
next day has to be cooked, and it is no wonder that there is but
rarely an hour left for the necessary cleaning. Until recently the
reputation of the "dust people" has been such that few decent
visitors come near them; but of late the London City Mission has
taken them under its charge, and its agents, who carry on their
*
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
work with steadiness and perseverance, are satisfied with the small
but sure results they have attained.
CHAPTER XIX.
PREACHING IN A LOW LODGING HOUSE.
<C
Oh, yes, sir, shall be werry happy for you to talk to 'em," said
the proprietor of a common lodging house one wintry Sabbath even-
ing to a friend who had applied for permission to preach in the large
kitchen of his house.
The man who had so graciously given this permission was a short,
thick-set, not altogether unpleasant looking personage, who seemed
to be far removed from the coarse-grained characters who belong to
these dens. "I knew you would," replied my friend cheerfully,
"and I am always indebted to you for allowing my helpers to come
in on the Sunday evening."
"So we walked into the kitchen. It was a dark, dreary, oblong
room on the ground-floor of the house. In the neighbourhood it is
known as "THE GREAT HELL," and not far from it is a smaller
kiichen which is recognised as "The Little Hell." But for the large
bright coke fire that was burning so pleasantly, and the cheerful-
looking oil lamp placed on the high, old-fashioned, dirt-encrusted
mantelpiece, it would be utterly impossible to remain for a moment
in the kitchen without receiving hideous impressions that could only
be described by some Dantean pen. You felt, as it was, a mental
depression which rendered you almost unfitted for the exercise of
worship, There was a window at each end of the room, but both
were closed and fenced with shutt cs, The current of fresh air so
necessary to sweep the objectionable odours away, was obtained by
means of an open door, which formed the subject of my companion's
discourse "Behoid, It before you an open door, which no man
can shut." Rev. iii. 8. As we were entering, two females were ap-
plying themselves to their toilet, and another was with commendable
vigour, paying attention to that virtue which is next to godliness.
What must have been the colour of the face of one of the (shail we
say) FAIR sex prior to the ablution, it is impossible to say; but had
we not observed the performance of the deed, we might have con-
cluded that a long divorce had been established between the face
PREACHING IN A LOW LODGING HOUSE.
175
and the soap and towel. A somewhat younger woman, who had the
appearance of a hopeless harlot, though discoloured by a terribly
black eye, managed to put in a clean appearance, and despite her
sin, she was not altogether ill-looking. We approached the fire, took
a seat in front of it, and announced the purpose of our visit. Around
this farmhouse fire were seated on forms about a dozen men and
women, while half-a-dozen little ragged, shoeless, barely-clad boys
were rolling over each other, and using horribly bad language. At
the mention of the proposal to sing, hey assumed a quiet demeanour,
and while the words were being given out, they merely winked at
each other. The tune selected was the well-known "Home, sweet
home," and as if in direct satire, two of the boys persisted in singing
the words of the ditty in place of the hymn. You could not but
pity the poor little urchins; since the den in which they lived could
scarcely with decency be termed a "home," much less a "sweet
home." The singing brought in about eight or nine more persons,
including an aged man with a young girl, whose condition was "in-
teresting" in a sense which seemed perfectly unnatural for one so
youthful. It is said of Robertson of Brighton, that he never saw a
leering scoundrel who tracked the steps of a virtuous woman without
feeling an instinctive desire to knock him down. I confess to having
had some such feeling toward that old man, who seemed to be the
wretch who had beclouded the fair prospects of that interesting girl.
My friend read to this strange congregation, the ever acceptable
story of the Prodigal Son, and though the weirdlike scene in this
modern pandemonium was painful enough to strangle the attempt in
its infancy, yet he succeeded in interesting them in that famous para-
ble. But the prayer which followed seemed to be a mystery to the
young urchins, who, though for a time adopting the plan of the mis-
tress of the house in putting their hands before their eyes, yet opened
their fingers and laughed at each other mot irreverently. One of
the lads tickled another under his feet, and it was with difficulty the
giggling could be suppressed. It need hardly be said that the prayer
was short, and we can vouch for it that it was none the less fervent and
direct. The singing was dispensed with, since few had joined in the
first hymn, and it was deemed advisable not to tire the poor creatures
by a lengthy or ordinary service. So the preaching began. My friend
who addressed them is a model of what might be termed a business-
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like preacher he is eminently practical, and knowing that the ordi-
nary talk of common life is best comprehended by the "roughs" he
addresses, he aims at presenting the truth in just such a light as will
be most likely to engage their thoughtful attention. On this occa-
sion he succeeded admirably. His similes, illustrations, and stories,
were simple and forcible, and were evidently both understood and
appreciated by the majority of those who listened. "Now," said he,
"I shall talk to you for a few minutes from this text, Behold, I
set before you an open door, which no man can shut.' The first word
is 'behold.' A short time ago, the scientific world uttered the word
'Behold!' and many anxious eyes were up-turned to the skies. Nor
were they unrewarded; for across the vault of heaven, a multitude
of brilliant meteors were seen to dart until they were lost in the
mysterious depths of the blue ether. Bui there were some who
heeded not the injunction of the astronomer; whilst others watched,
they slept, and consequently lost a scene very beautiful and interest-
ing. The word 'Behold!' in the text is uttered by one whose com-
mands are of greater weight than those of any astronomer; it is the
utterance of Jesus Christ, and demands our prompt and reverent
attention." Then the preacher compared the word "Behold!" to a
finger-post at the junction of several roads, directing the traveller
the way to the city-to the marginal signs in quaint old books,
pointing to some important statement-and to a lighthouse at the
entrance of a harbour, guiding the tempest-tossed mariner into the
haven of rest. Then he examined the figure, and showed how Jesus
Christ became the door, and how that door was opened for the vilest
of men-
"The door of mercy's open still,
And Jesus cries, Whoever will
By me may er er in;'
I am the door, and I have died
Salvation's door to open wide
For sinners dead in sin."
CC
No part of this little sermon seemed to gain greater attention than
that portion which dealt with the value of an open door. "Have
you never," he remarked, "passed the door of a workhouse on a
cold, wet, and windy night, and seen the poor hungry and half-
naked creatures waiting and watching anxiously for the door to.
PREACHING IN A LOW LODGING HOUSE."
177
៖
•
open, that they may have food and shelter for the night?" Some
of the men here nodded to each other, as if to say, "We've been
like that!" A series of similar illustrations followed, describing
the value of a door when a large crowded building is on fire, like
that of Santiago, and how prisoners of war longed for an open door
as they looked through their iron gratings on to the green fields
in the distance. Then, the characterstics of the door were:-It was
NATTOW:
"Those boly gates for ever bar
Pollution, sin, and shame,
None but the followers of the Lamb
Can find admission there."
But it was nevertheless a wide door-wide enough for Manasseh, for
the dying thief, for the chiefest of sinners. It was, too, the only
door; therefore, good works, baptism, the Lord's Supper, were not
the doors to heaven. It was a safe door-the true Noah's ark,
within which there is safety amidst earth's stormy tempests. It was
a door no man could shut. And the whole concluded with an ex-
hortation to "peep into the open door," just as the little boys peep-
ed in at the open doors of the Great Exhibition, so that they might
glance at the glittering objects inside. "Look to Calvary," was the
burden of the closing remarks.
I observed that one poor tramp went to sleep, not as the result of
the soothing influences of the address, but in consequence of the
soporiferous effects produced by the fire in front of him. A lad in
corderoys vainly battled against the encroachments of this feeling,
and at last succumbed, waking up in time to hear the closing hymn
being sung. The adults, among whom in the dark distance the
black face of a negro was barely visible, listened with the greatest
attention, and at times they threatened to cuff the boys if they did
not "drop that 'ere," which, rendered ints, conventional English,
meant, if they refused to keep quiet. At one time the lads grew
most unruly. A poor, slim kitten would persist in squatting in front
of the fire; and the urchins manifested their affection toward the
dumb creature by making round O's of its tail, a process of disfigura-
tion which the kitten did not appreciate. The master of the house
exhibited a small cane; the mistress confined pussy in her apron ;
the naughty little thing, however, did not like her imprisonment,
23
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
but mewed for liberty, and dashing through a loophole of retreat,
managed to find her way among her tormentors. This scene was repeat-
ed several times; and yet the discourse, like a panoramic scroll, full
of admirable pictures, glided on. It was preaching under difficul-
ties;, but the Good Mastor helps his servants to conquer them, even
when they are most trying. Before leaving the room, an invitation
was given to take tea with the preacher in a contiguous mission hall;
and as the men did not think we were taking a liberty in inviting
them, we were assured of their company.
The tea meeting took place on the 29th of March, and there were
about one hundred present, all of whom had been provided with
tickets, a few of which it was found had been purchased by coster-
mongers from the members of the lodging houses. These few, how-
ever, refused to remain to the evening meeting, while the irrepressi-
ble boys persisted in staying and annoying everyone, until they were
forcibly ejected. All honour to those brethren who can deal with
such debased characters; but it need not be a matter of surprise if
some of us should shrink from such engagements.
The company
were asked whether there were any teetotallers among them. Seven
of the most reputable held up their hands; but whether their absti-
nence from intoxicating drinks was a matter of conviction or of
sheer necessity arising from poverty cannot be determined. Several
acknowledged that they had in former years been scholars in the
Sabbath-school. One strong-looking fellow wished to ask a question.
Whereupon, an endeavour was made to laugh him down. He, how-
ever, appealed to his "mates," by asking whether "the gen'lm'n"
had not invited them to say what they thought. This cooled the
vicious ardour of the noisy, and the remainder clamoured for silence
by appealing to the "cheer." The man then said that a mate of
his who worked with him in the brewery, last week fell into a vat
of boiling hops, and was killed. People were sure to say he was
drunk 'cos he worked at the beer trade, but he wasn't. There was no
guard on the stage; it wasn't by his own "instigation" (? fault)
that he fell into the copper. The poor man was a Christian, he
was sure, although he had been a blackguard and a thief in his
younger days. Now, he wanted to know why God-if he was as
merciful as had been said that evening-should let this man die
such an awful death? If he loved him, and the man really trusted.
PREACHING IN A LOW LODGING HOUSE.
179
in Jesus, why did he allow him to die in that way? The replies.
that were made satisfied the enquirer, although he seemed to think
it strange that God should save the soul, and yet kill the body in so
dreadful a way.
•
One man—a Christian bricklayer-though, as he confessed, quite
unaccustomed to public speaking, made an interesting speech, in
which he said there were many there that night who knew him and
knew what he had been in times gone by. He could be the first in
gambling and other acts of wickedness; he used to resort to all the vari-
ous dodges to get the best of any man as well as any of them, when he
had a chance. But that was all changed now, since he had found
God. He was a living monument of God's great mercy. The
speaker then proceeded most simply and artlessly to beseech them
to "try what religion could do for them;" and although he made
sorry trips in grammar, and fact, quotation, and sense, saying, at
one point, that "God had said he would help them as helps them-
selves," and so on-yet, without doubt, his address made a good
impression. Indeed, for the roughs, no better speakers can be
found than those who have, before conversion, been as bad as
they. For grossly illiterate men to preach to artisans is one of
the greatest mistakes ever made; but for the outcasts, whose moral
perceptions have been blunted until they have scarcely any left-
men ho are as ignorant as Hottentots, and so depraved that they
abhor the light, thinking it to be darkness, none are so well fitted as
their own class or as working men. Some of these rough and ready
speakers are admirably adapted for this class of work; and their
inharmonious voices, somewhat confused modes of thinking, and
demonstrative action, do not seem so irreverent and painful as they
would be elsewhere. The majority of those who thus labour arc
respectable Christian artisans. I have met with porters, ware-
housemen, city clerks, shoemakers, costerongers, and even trades-
men who have, with a spirit of intense desire for the soul-good of
the débris of society, risked their lives in preaching and conversing
about the Saviour of sinners in these pestilential abodes of vice.
They do the work far more effectively than paid agents. We would
far from depreciate other agencies, but we believe Scripture readers
generally lack the motive of these voluntary labourers. Indeed, there
are too many Church of England Scripture readers, who are as
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unfitted for their work as the hurdle-jumping, fox-hunting parsons
who hinder instead of help the cause of religion in the country. The
truth is that voluntary agency has overleaped the bounds of conven
tionality; has spontaneously and vigorously prosecuted work which
in its extent and purpose, is not confined within parochial bounda
ries that have been drawn by the Devil's measuring tapes;
* and
thus has, though quietly and unobtrusively, carved out spheres of
Christian usefulness which might not have been otherwise occupied.
The object of these voluntary agents is not to put themselves into
oppsition with existing organisations, to which, in fact, they are often
of great assistance; but they respect no time-honoured privileges,
ant care little for districts (as though God's earth were parcelled out
like milkmen's walks, postmen's runs, or policemen's beats, for a
number of favoured man-ordained priests). Sometimes they may
clash with existing organisations, but if they do, the result is gene-
rally to arouse stated missionaries into greater activity. They some-
times act the part of those men who are known in Paris as of "the
waker trade," whose duty it is to wake up the sleeping market gard-
eners, by pinching them on the arm as they are awaiting the early
dawn of morning. Dr. Bickersteth, some years ago, uttered a wail
of despondency over the labours of those who carry the gospel into
low, common lodging houses. He said :-
"Look at the testimony of experience. I appeal to all who have ever laboured
in scenes such as these-to our toil-worn parochial clergymen in metropolitan
parishes-to our Scripture readers and city missionaries, who have penetrated
these haunts of infamy, and who are familiar with these nests of pauperism and
vice-I ask if all their labour is not thrown away upon a population so circum-
stanced? Does not the same state of things go on from year to year? Is there
any moral improvement in the mass, so long as the physical condition is unchan-
ged? I have put the question to men who have faithfully toiled for years in these
dens of London, and the answer is inve iably the same. No general impression
is made. Here and there, possibly, one may be roused to some kind of moral
perception as by a miracle of mercy, and what happens? Why, the first token of
moral life is an attempt to migrate, as though by the instinct of self-preserva.
tiou, to some purer scene.
There is much truth contained in this language, since the sanitary
abominations and repulsive associations of these dens are sufficient to
"}
* Strong language, perhaps; but those of us who know cases in which so-called
"clergymen " and their subordinates have refused to visit dying men because
they were on the borders of another parish, cannot hate too strongly this paro-.
chial system.
AMONG THE SPITALFIEKDS LODGING-HOUSES.
181
choke all the good that may be done in them; but Dr. Bickersteth's
experience is not that of hundreds of men who persistently work on,
until, by a gracious attrition, the hard stony hearts of some of the
vilest are dissolved:
Dissolved by His goodness they fall to the ground,
And weep to the praise of the mercy they've found."
It is true, that the results are not so visible as in other descriptions
of Christian effort; but so much the more honourable is the zeal of
those who labour on irrespective of results. The cases are few in
which these pariahs become Christians; but when they do, they, first
of all, invariably by the aid of their spiritual teachers, obtain some
decent employment, and live in more wholesome dwellings. But the
seed of divine truth is scattered abroad, and therein we do rejoice.
The lessons taught are not altogether forgotten. They are remem-
bered after many days. The death-bed reveals the results of lodging-
house preaching.
Eb
CHAPTER XX.
AMONG THE SPITALFIELDS LODGING-HOUSES,
A few Sabbath evenings ago the writer perambulated a low dis-
trict in Spitalfields, in company with a friend whose leisure hours,
shou God approve, are to be devoted to home-mission work. We
were in the midst of the lodging-houses of a thickly populated part
of London. Within a certain radius, there were no signs of well-
housed respectability. The nest of houses, where the seat of over-
crowding and disease may be found, was fringed with dark frowning
warehouses which emitted other than fragrant odours. Behind these
hives of industry might be seen rows and rows of demented hovels,
swarming with human life. The streets were crowded with children,
some ragged and tattered, others trimmed with finery of variegated
hues, while many, half naked and filthy, were frolicking and run-
ning, gambling and fighting, swearing and blaspheming. Those who
know anything of poor neighbourhoods will have observed the crowds
of gamins which, on Sundays especially, infest the streets and alleys.
The poor cannot afford to pay for the use of those refuges for
troublesome children known as dame schools, on the week-day; rag-
ged schools are hardly aristocratic enough; while the Sabbath school
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
might house many diminutive social tyrants but for that strong re-
pugnance to education, and that all-conquering spiteful determina-
tion and obstinacy which boys brought up in the midst of evil asso-
ciations display when overtures are made for their good. He who
wishes for a proof of human depravity, and the existence of early
iniquity, has only to walk through a miserable neighbourhood and
watch the actions of children whe have not even seen three summers.
whe
At the corner of each street, there were groups of women evidently
discussing their individual grievances, while at the doorways of most
houses you might see both women and children sitting and rolling,
laughing and vacantly looking on passers-by. You may pass through
some of those thoroughfares-I saw no policeman in them-without
molestation; but should you be respectably attired, you may be wel-
comed or dismissed with a laugh or a contemptuous, semi-mystified
sneer. We, on returning liome, were bidden to go to Jerusalem, by
a couple of big lads of the costermonger class; but though we knew
of a saying recommending disagreeable people to go to à West of
England town noted for its mineral waters, we were not prepared to
divine the reason why so uncomfortably distant a city as Jerusalem
should have been selected for the banishment of such amiable people
as ourselves. At the corner of one street, there was a knot of anxi-
ous-looking noisy hobbedeloys playing for money. They had formed
a semicircle, into the sacred limits of which no one but those er gag-
ed in the game were apparently allowed to enter. My friend pulled
out his tracts-always useful are these tracts in low neighbourhoods
-and ventured amongst the Sabbath-breakers. Although deeply and
excitingly engaged in their game, they manifested a sort of anxiety
to receieve a tract each, which they took with a mixed look of sur-
prise and stupidity, gazing as though our friend were some specially-
consecrated and wonderful human curiosity, half doubting whether
he might not be paid for his trouble by some one more religious than
themselves. For this question of pay, I may say in a parenthesis,
is one involving serious considerations amongst the roughs. They
are slow in understanding the willinghood of service, and they mani-
fest at least many do--great repugnance to accepting a leaflet at the
hands of a salaried missionary. It is different, however, if they think
the offer is made by a volunteer. For though they hate tracts, be
cause they are given by persons who would refuse to "
stand half
AMONG THE SPITALFIELDS LODGING-HOUSES.
183
a pint" of liquor, they are not altogether insensible of the worthi-
ness of self-devotion. The young fellows were amiable rather than
otherwise; and our friend in giving them a tract entitled "How
to make your fortune" advised them, as they seemed bent on
making gains by gambling, to read how to gain an everlasting
fortune. There was a hearty jovial laugh at this advice; one protested
that he was trying to get a dinner out of "Jem;" while the others
read the title of their leaflet, doubled it up, placed it in the palm of
their hand, and returned to their amusement. I feel persuaded, how-
ever, that that simple service will not altogether be without its re-
ward. These men have immortal souls, and should therefore be cared
for; they have sympathies, though intensely rude and blunted, and
by perseverance and judicious conversation, those sympathies might
be evoked for holiness and truth.
I can hardly commit myself to a description of the lodging-houses
of Spitalfields. Those I saw might be compared, in ground plan, to
an ordinary gridiron, without the handle, the bars being the courts
and alleys. These are clustered thickly together; the back gardens
(of a few feet in length) having the appearance of piggeries. The
houses and dens are occupied by beggars, thieves, tramps, and the
street folks of whose mental and physical condition I may say most •
miserable. We feared to penetrate into the maze of courts and
alley which lie beyond those in the immediate vicinity of the Gospel
Hall, into which we proposed entering; and I should not advise any
one with a delicate constitution to venture into such scenes of filth
and disease. At the end of the street we observed an open-air
preacher holding forth to three persons, two of whom were children.
The solitary man was a tramp-he may have been a thief, but we
did not go near enough to personally know-lounging against a door-
way, but manifesting in his broad German-looking visage no ray of
intelligence, no manifestation of understanding the words uttered by
the energetic speaker. Saddened we turned aside, and made en-
quiries for the Gospel Hall.
"You are one of the obstinate fellows I ever met with," said an
old woman to my friend, abruptly grasping him by the arm, as we
were pacing over the brick floor of the Gospel Hall.
"Why? Have I done anything wrong to you?"
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ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
"Why! Last night you made me out to be one of the vilest women
in the Metropolitan Tabernacle."
Madame, I don't know you; I don't remember ever seeing you
((
before."
"Never saw me before! Last night you never kept your eyes off
me a moment. I would have thought nothing of it, had you come
and told me by mysel', but to do it before a' yon folk-'twas too
bad.'!
"Where do you live?" asked my friend, “and I'll go and see
you;" for by this time a crowd had gathered on the aisle.
"Come awa', then," was her immediate reply; and leading him
to a narrow dirty lane, she ushered him into a dirty hovel, full of
smoke. This," said she, the moment they entered, to her husband,
who was sitting by the fire, "this is the man who gave me such a
redding up last night." "But is what I said true?" asked my friend,
mildly, after they had sat down upon two rickety stools, which, with
that on which the husband was sitting, composed the chief articles
of furniture in the apartment.
"True! It was all true; but if you hadn't been going about
among the neighbours, you never could have known what you said."
((
Well, what is it I have said that has given you such offence ?"
"Said? I'm sure all you said was meant for me."
"How do you think that? I never named you; as I said before, I
didn't so much as know you."
"What? you never took your eyes off me all the time you were
speaking; so you just meant me.”
“But tell me what struck you most?"
"You said that I was a liar, and that I should be cast into hell."
"Well, then, are you a liar ?"
Yes, I am."
"What kind of life have you been living?
?"
"Oh!" she said, with a tone of deepened feeling, "I've been liv-
ing a wery bad, bad life; I've for many years been a fortune-teller,
and I may say I've made my bread by telling fortunes; and that's
just telling lies, you know."
<<
Well, then, you needn't be saying that I said so. But let me
tell you, that it wasn't my words that I spoke to you, it was God's
words, and he knows your every thought, and every word you speak.
،،
AMONG THE SPITALFIELDS LODGING-HOUSES.
185
He read to her Rev. XXI. 8: "But the fearful, and unbelieving,
and the abominable, and murderers, and whore-mongers, and sor-
cererg, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth
with fire and brimstone; which is the second death.”
"If you conti-
nue in that sin,” said he, "believe me, you will never enter heaven."
He next read Rev. XXII. 11: "He that is unjust, let him be
unjust still; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still . . . .
And, behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to give
every man according as his work shall be. I am Alpha and Omega,
the beginning and the end, the first and the last. Blessed are they
that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of
life, and may enter in through the gates into the city. For withoat
are dogs, and sorcerers, and whore-mongers, and murderers, and liars,
and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie."
"Now, it is the Lord Jesus," he added, "who says all this, and
not I.»
"I see you are right," replied the woman, in a tone more and
more subdued; “I'm no less a sinner than you said I was. But
what is to become of me?"
"There's nothing for you, but to go to Jesus."
"But will he take such a wretch as I? Oh, I am a great sinner!
And oh, Billy," she added, turning to her husband, in evident con-
cern, you're no better than I; I doubt but we'll both be cast down
into hell."
1
"It really doesn't look well," said the husband, shaking his head
significantly, as if himself beginning to be alarmed also.
"But, sir, do you think," asked the woman, "that Jesus would
take such sinners ?”
{
"Yes," said my friend, opening his Bible, "it is written in this
book, "Whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sius shall have mercy,"
Prov. XXVIII. 13. "Have you a Bible in the house?"
22
"Oh! no; we have none.
"Do you ever go to church?"
Th
"Never; I haven't had my foot within a church door for sixteen
years, till last Sunday that I heard Mr. Spurgeon in the Tabernacle.
But I'll come and hear you. Have you any church ?"
He told her he had no church in London, but she might attend
Grove Road Chapel each Sunday night.
:
4
17.
24
186
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
From that day the woman gave up her fortune-telling. Along
with her husband she attended on every Sunday night the service
in the Grove Road Chapel. They got a Bible, and read it, and
prayed over it. A great change came over their whole life.
The husband lived for some years, giving marked evidence of his
interest in Christ. "Oh! had you not come to my house that day
with my wife," he used often po say to the missionary, "and had
she not gone to the meeting where she thought you exposed her so
much, I'm sure we should both have gone down into hell, for oh!
we lived a sad life of sin; but since that we have had great peace
and comfort, even when we had little to eat, for that little had God's
Blessing with it.”
CHAPTER XXI.
STRAY THOUGHTS.
:
THE HABIT OF DRUNKENNESS.-The use of spirituous liquors is be-
coming a very common habit among the natives of England. Yes,
it is unquestionably true that the great increase in the sales of liquor
by retail spirit-sellers is very largely referable to what may be styled
the habit of drunkenness and it is fully as frequent among men in
society as it is with women, whose nerves are over-taxed by hard
work and protracted illness. And I may say to every one, though
many will dispute it, that the habit of drunkenness, in its ravages,
when once thoroughly established, is more difficult to break, and
more dangerous in every respect, than the habitual use of opium or
its preparations. Few, save practising physicians, are aware of the
tremendous effects of alcoholic liquo" upon a person's system. As
you know, depending upon the quantity taken, liquor possesses four
very distinct properties, being in very small doses a tonic and
nervine, in moderate doses directly stimulant, in large doses sedative
and soporific, and in very large doses intoxicating, producing drunken-
ness, similar in its features to masked epilepsy, in which, while
performing customary actions and talking with the coherence of a
person in the full possession of his senses, the victim is really perfect-
ly unconscious of what he is doing, and totally irresponsible. There
is no question that the regular use of liquor as a stimulant is rapidly
increasing among the educated men--the fact is one of the most
ار
STRAY THOUGHTS.
187
lamentable that has come under my notice for years. The way in
which a man gets into it in the first place is very simple. He feels
a little unstrung and out of tune perhaps, and so consults the family
physician, who suggests a glass or two of port or brandy. In a day
or two he feels singularly improved; his brain is clear and bright;
the physical energies seem to have renewed their youth. Elated
with the results whenever he feels dawn-spirited or out of sorts, he
resorts, of course,to the remedy that has once served his purpose
so well; and very soon he has acquired the habit of using the spirit
or poison in regular daily doses. In three months, so insidious are
its effects, the habit of drinking is fully established, and the
probability is that the man (or woman as the case may be) has not
long to live. Worse still, so peculiar are the effects of the liquor
on the nervous system, that there is a strong probability that the
victim will die of suicide, for it is a singular fact that no tonic in
the Materia Medica acts so directly and rapidly to produce. suicidal
disposition and impulse. Morphia has no such effect, deplorable as
its ravages are.
The habit of drunkenness generally transforms the most truthful
and moral man or woman into the most inveterate liar and im-
moral person; in the course of two or three years - a romancer of
the wildest type. On the other hand, while morphia produces no
perceptible effect on veracity, it leads to a nervous irritability that
is intolerable alike to its victim and his associates, and frequently
ends in the sudden development of suicidal mania.
Again, a man may be reduced to the verge of the grave by spirit-
uous liquors, and still retain a remnant of physical and nervous
energy, when the poisonous liquor has been eliminated from the sys-
tem ; but when once the system has given way under the cumulative
influence of liquor, the break down is irrevocable.
In the course of an experience, embracing, I may say, a thousand
cases of the drunken habit in its later stages, during the last three
years, I have never seen a case in which the victim was good for
anything after the habit was broken, and as a rule, the victim
collapses and dies if the withdrawal of the stimulant is persevered
in. Knowing these facts, cannot educated men abstain from drink,
and punish the physician who prescribes brandy or any kind of
or to men a little fagged out with over-work?
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
188
THE DRUNKARD.-The victim of liquor is now a homeless beggar,
squatting in some out-of-the-way corner, and dependent upon charity
for a morsel of bread. His unshaven head well agrees with the gene-
ral squalor of his appearance, and the ground is now his only bed
and table. His sole remaining possessions are his brandy-bottle and
a tobacco-pipe. Some compassionate person, perhaps a former farm-
servant, is bringing him a small flattened loaf. This misery and des-
titution are the consequences of Government greed and wrong-doing.
England would be none the poorer were all alcoholic beverages des-
troyed to-morrow.
It is admitted on all hands that drunkenness is a terrible and
prevalent evil in the land. Judges, statesmen, magistrates-all the
most intelligent men in the community-are of one accord in the
matter. In many foreign lands the name of " Englishman » has
almost become a synonym for “drunkard."
Drunkard treats his wife, son and daughter with the most barba-
ous cruelty; and even if he allow them to survive, a terrible time of
pain is awaiting them.
ENGLISH HONOUR.-What is English honour? Is it illustrated and
glorified by the massing of men and warlike materials to crush weak
foes? No one can doubt the issue of a war either in Affghanistan
or in Africa, if such a nation as England chooses to exercise it force.
Whatever reverses may occur, unless some very unusual interference
take place, a great power will in process of time stamp out a weaker
one. Surely, however, English people have not yet reached that
depth of degradation in which brute strength seems admirable and
worshipped. And yet—and yet at all events we must testify that
"righteousness exalteth a nation," and that England's honour is to
be manifested only in truth, justice, and loving ministry of mercy,
but not in the encouragement of liquor traffic, licensed prostitution,
and crushing weak foes.
ENGLAND'S MISSON.-England's mission in the world is to spread
civilization, to abolish tyranny and all the monstrous ills of slavery
and vice. For this cause has God raised her up. But England is
responsible to God and to the nation for the tremendous vice of
drunkenness which she has spread throughout the length and breadth
of her empire by licensed liquor traffic.
STRAY THOUGHTS,
189
ENGLISH TRADESMEN.-I condemn the mode of conducting business
which prevails among thousands of shopkeepers throughout the
length and breadth of England. From facts which come to my ears
during my stay in that country, it is clear, that these men often ap-
parently respectable, and even make a decided profession ofeligion
-keep young persons of both sexes in their establishments habitu-
ally to lie for them: On one occasion a young man said, "I will tell
the truth for one day, and see how it will answer." The morning
came, and a lady presented herself at the shop, and asked for an
article." "Is it pure wool?" was her inquiry.
፡፡
No, ma'am; there is a mixture of cotton in it." On hearing
this, the lady quitted the shop without purchasing; and that very
night the young man was discharged !
But all the sin does not lie at the door of tradesmen. The cus-
tomers who are not content to pay a fair price for a genuine article
offer a premium on adulteration and imitation, and are accessories
to the evil above referred to. Some Christians are mean to their
tradesmen in order that they may be generous to the poor.
Is not
this robbery for burnt offering?
The clergy of the Church of England, and ministers of all denomi-
nations alike, are too timid to deal with the great questions of the
day, and this very important one in particular. They tell you they
would **
give offence," would "empty their church," and so forth.
One minister, being asked one day plainly by an attendant at his
church, “Is a business lie as bad any other lie?" replied, "he could
not answer that question; he really did not know." Both in churches
and chapels these great questions are shirked and avoided, and the
Word of God is handled deceitfully when practical matters have to-
be grappled with.
NOVEL-READING.-Facts are stubborn things. Here is one. From
two free libraries in London during the year 1884, 327,813 volumes
of fiction were taken out, and in the same period the total of all
other kinds of works taken out from the same two libraries number-
ed only 113,391 volumes. Will it be healthy for the national life.
hat it should so abundantly feed on the sudden surprises, the exag-
erations, the dramatic situations, the questionable morality, and the
o prevailing godlessness of the modern novel ?
“ONE SWEET KISS BEFORE WE PART ".-A young lady having
· 190.
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
¿
bought a lot of articles in a shop, on returning to her carriage,
recollected a piece she had forgotten to buy. "Sir," said she, on
re-entering the shop, "there is one thing which I had forgotten.!'
"And what is that?" replied the young shop-boy. "One sweet kiss
before we part." The jolly youth, jumping jmmediately over the
table, gave a sweet kiss to the fair customer.
{
WANTED A WIFE.-She is very much like the rose; very long in
the neck; narrow in the shoulders; slender in the waist; thin in
the legs; and short in stature; nose very sharp; and eyes very blue;
lips very thin and very red; hair glossy and copper-coloured; she
will go to market herself and keep all the money. Eats and drinks
a little, and pits very elegant.
WANTED A HUSBAND.-A modern Anglican of the Anglicans, nursed
in rising Radicalism, and cradled in, the pride of race; educated at
Oxford, well read in novels, versed in London business, and acquaint-
ed with trade and commerce; income not less than £50 a month, a
man of good family, who can love sincerely.
P
CHAPTER XXII.
ENGLISH SOCIETY AND ENGLISH CHARACTER.
V
¿
ENGLISH SOCIETY. -English Society in its present state offers à
subject for consideration which is rather amusing than edifing.
A wide-spread depravity of a' most harrowing character exists in it.
It consists of much that is good and noble, and more that is bad
and trifling; much that we envy, much that we condemn and.
weep for.
Mirth and happiness are as sweet to me as the perfume of roses,
or the ripple of the cooling brooks in the heat of harvest, I would as
soon rob the year of its summer, and the heavens of the sun, as
young people of their merriment, or old poople of their joys. But I
am a plain man, loving consistency, and therefore a great Chris-
tian nation's ways of mirth considerably puzzle me, and make me
think very queer thoughts when I adorn my brow with my consider-
'ing cap. The young lambs overflow with spirits, and are abun
dantly frolicsome and lively in their play, and yet I never saw them
-eat carrion for a treat, or howl like tigers for a change their
enjoyments are always like their nature, and they never imitate
ENGLISH SOCIETY AND ENGLISH CHARACTER.
191
i
wolves or lions in order to enjoy themselves. Let a horse loose, and
it gallops and tears round the meadow, and rolls on its back, and
throws up its leg into the air; but still it acts like a horse, and
does not for pleasure try to fly like a bird, or climb a tree like a
squirrel. How is it, then, that a great people, who call themselves
Christians, the moment they set about enjoying themselves, throw
off their supposed spiritual nature, and act like worldlings in order
to be happy? Other creatures, even in their freest sports, are
like themselves, but these beings in their pleasure seeking are as
unlike what they profess to be as owls are unlike birds of Paradise!
The nostril that can be gratified by the reek of dunghills, knows
nothing of true fragrance. To genuine virtuous men the painted
joys of earth are too vapid, too childish, too mean, to give them a
moment's satisfaction. To me it is a wonder that English people
who retain the Christian name, and yet find solace in those poison-
ous pastures which border on the plains of vice, and are the
purlieus of hell.
Thus and thus is it with the English world everywhere and ever-
more. Far away and outside the English world is harmony and
delight, nearer and more closely known it is horror and confusion.
To the young and inexperienced, the cadence sweet of love and
mirth is rapture, and the towers of English world ring out a con-
cert filling hope with transport; but when experience has brought
the man into the very city of life, he hears a terrible concert. He
is startled by mighty knells; wearied with piercing tones of care;
and worried out of hope, as with mournful accents, troubles cleave
the air, and the crazing clamours of peals of controversy, bobmajors
of nonsense, and chimes of slander, frighten sacred quiet from the
scene, and sound a hideous requiem to peace. "Things are not
what they seem.
From afar, society is full of friendship nearer,
it is hollow and hypocritical; pleasure dreamed of is Elysium, but,
mingled in, too much of it is Gehenua ; philosophy seems deep and
solid at a distance, but searched with care, it is proven to be vapid
and pretentious. All the world's a mirage; heaven alone is real.
Alas behold English Society as a repository of social influ-
ences and pleasures her alliance with the club-room and play-
house, behold her feasting and rioting with the world-her literary,
musical, dramatic entertainments, which engross so much of her life,
>>
=
192
ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
IU
and almost characterizes her as a "Bureau of Amusements" for the
world, which corrupt the moral principle, and cultivate the spirit
that leads the young people in merry throngs to the theatre, the
ball-room, and other sinful pleasures, thus helping on the world's
mad frolic to judgment and perdition.
In the midst of this manifest apostacy we hear vain boastings of
improvement and progress, and expressions of contempt for those
who see these evils and weep over them in secret places. Sad
picture indeed! Sad, because so true! Deluded or dishonest men
may easily hold up this picture to popular ridicule and scorn.
To me, English Society presents a huge sham-heartless and
hypocritical-its principles are false, its pretentions shallow, and its
big dinners and big parties veritable frauds!
ENGLISH CHARACTER.-There are many wonders in the world
which prompt the cry, "Behold!" There are wonders in nature:
the towering Himalayas, clothed with eternal snow; the foaming
cataract of Niagara, which excites the amazement of the dullest be-
holder. There are wonders of art: the Pyramids of Gizeh, in the
land of Egypt, seen from afar; the steam-engine, with its strange
irresistible power. There are wonders of genius: the genius of
Milton; the discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton, of James Watt-these
draw the admiration of every intelligent mind. The world is full of
the cry,
"Behold!" "Behold!" But who admires the wonders of
England—in every form of human wickedness and depravity.
To form a just estimate of the English people we ought to have
more than a mere acquaintance with them as they are, we require
some knowledge of the events that have raised them to their
present state, and of the Government that every day moulds their
thoughts. The ancient Saxon elem ent, already reduced in number,
was to a great extent, absorbed by the Norman element,
Notwithstanding all the advantages and disadvantages of their
positions, both past and present, the English are a remarkable
people. They are intelligent, industrious, enterprising, bold, pos-
sessed of a strong, resolute character. Intelligent and bold,
they are obedient to their parents, but they are intemperate
in their food and drink, and cold in manners. While murders,
grave crimes, debaucherries and drunkenness are frequent and
common. Such is a brief summary of the moral qualities of the
f

ENGLISH SOCIETY AND ENGLISH CHARACTESN
In the
English people, and it is concurred in by all who have had suff-
cient opportunities of forming a judgment. As regards this aspect
of English moral life, it is certain that whatever may be the construc-
tion which should fitly be put upon this and other singular customs
among this people, they are no strangers to the vice found among
the French and the Germans. This is, indeed, apparent enough
on the surface. Whether they are different in kind, or worse
in degree, is the question; and whether such customs, which
may be the result of greater depravity, are the true indications
of its existence? This is by no means so simple a question
as may appear. Where, from custom no sense of immodesty
attaches to a particular costume or habit, we know very well
the utmost purity of thought may be compatible with its adoption.
WAZ
The sense of wrong-doing and condemnation in fero conscientæ
must, in a great measure, determine the question of immodesty, or,
at all events, enter far more largely into the determining of charac-
ter than at first sight appears. It is difficult to form an opinion
of the morality of one people by the standard of another. The
Hindus and the Mahomedans think it a reproach for women to be
seen out of their harems, and, even among the lower classes, the
unveiling of the face is regarded as a shameless and indecent act,
associating with it corresponding ideas of immorality. Singularly.
enough, we seem to have some traces of this conception when we
wish to express a similar reproach of shamelessness by the word
barefaced. A Hindu woman wears a single saree, but carefully
shrouds her whole body from view. The English women expose
their faces and breasts without reserve, and paint the former
that they may be admired; while they very certainly regard their
dress their dancing in public, with their male acquaintances, and
our whole system of visiting, as the most shocking departures from
all the rules of propriety and decency, which the imagination of
man or woman could invent.
The English people are not very pleasant in company, as some
people are, because they do not like strangers, nor care much for
giving themselves trouble. They like best being at home, and that is
a good thing. They do not so much care about their houses and
furniture looking pretty, as about their being clean and comfortable.
They are very much afraid of being cheated; therefore they are

ENGLISHMEN AT HOME.
cautious and prudent, and slow to trust people till they know them,
they are, as a rule, cold in their manners, but they have warm hearts,
and will do kind things. They are industrious, for they like to get
money. deed they are too fond of money, as well as of good eating
and drinking They like reading, especially newspapers and light.
and amusing books. They do not care much for music and painting,
as some people do. They are rather given to low spirits, and are
apt to grumble, complaining of the weather, of their rulers, and of all.
kinds of things, and wishing that they were richer than they are, yet
they ought to be best, as well as the happiest people in the world, for
there is no country in which there are so many Bibles. Even children
of fire and six years old have Bibles of their own in England.

THE END.
?
CALCUTTA,
Printed by CONES & Co., 300, Bow Bazar Street.
S

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song lege
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BY THE SAME AUTHO
Life And Teachings of Krishna
Life And Teachings of Buddha
Sankara Charya
Regeneration of India
Peasantry
The Essence of Religion
Christianity Exposed
Mo
WILL BE SHORTLY PUBLISHED.
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The Bankrupt Banker (Novel)
The Disguised Physician (Novel)
The White Hall Gardens (Novel)
Harry Broome (Novel)
Tara (Historical Novel in Bengali)
Ananta Lahari (Poetical Descant upon
Creation in Bengali Blank Verse)
Amrita Lahari (Lyric Poems in Bengali
Arya Kosh (A Comprehensive, Complete
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