The daily exchange. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1858-1861, 1861-02-26
nTHE HORRORS OF LONDON

| The Nornjng Post has sent especial correspon-
| dent" into the more wretched quarters Of the Me-
| tropolis to depict the "Horrors of Lordon.''-
From yesterdays letter we make the following ex-
! tracts
went into one of the houses in Puteney Court
! within stones throw of Regent street-and
struck by its resemblance to one of the lowest
dwellings of Bethnal Green The small yard SEEM
! ed rotting with damp and dirt. The narrow win
dow of the lower back room was too caked with
mud to be seen through, and the kitchen one
of those black holes, filled with untold filth and
rubbish, which the inspector had condemned
twelfth-month before. The stencil throughout the
house, although the front and back doors were we'll
open, was almost sickening; and when a room door
| was opened this stencil came out in gusts.
| In one apartment found a family of six persons
| fauked by another apartment containing five. One
room little better furnished than another,
but the oom OF poverty, dirt, and foul air hung
over all. turned-up bedstead, dirty and broken,
small cracked table, couple of rickety chairs,
piece of soap lying the table, by the side of
greasy knife, pail full of soaking rags and knot
of sooty infants in a corner, seemed to be the
usual contents OF room. One thin, sharp faced
boy was minding one of these apartments for the
tenants, while they (both husband and wife) were
out seeking work. and, upon being questioned as
to whether he lived there, he told us that his
''house" was higher up.
He led the way to one of the garrets where
there more signs of misery still, and this he
told us, was his 'house." The dead cinders had
oozed out of the CRATE into the room; an empty
q
soap; cracked teacup was on the floor; an old
collapse bedstead, covered with something like
a ragged mat stood in corner; and the dismal
aspect of the place was heightened by two or three
fower-pots, full of black earth and dry sapess
sticks. The boys mother was poor shirt-maker,
deserted by her husband, and left with this one
child.
| In the next garret was a shoemaker and his fam
lily, wife and three children. The room was tidy,
| and even comfortable, though the workbench un-
der the window was idle. The rent of this apart
ment was three shillings week, although the roof
| had been broken in half a dozen places by the
| snow. The man, upon being questioned why he
lived in such hole at such rent, with the ceiling
scarcely higher than his head spoke about his long
residence in the parish, his familiarity with its
another neighborhood, which he said would be
! like 'foreign country" to him.
| This dislike of going amongst strangers is the
feeling W hich keeps up rents, and keeps the work
! ing population huddled together, and poor. In
another room was a consumptive tailor, working
on shopboard under the window; faced by his
wife, who was also employed in the same trade
One child was playing between them on the board,
| another on the floor, and five more were in the
street. The man was almost bent double with dis
ease and long stooping and, bad as he was, he was
! only like hundreds of his class.
Seen dimly through the garret windows, oppo-
site were many more similar workmen, and many
garrets in the neighborhoOd contained half dozen
| yellow, crooked workmen, stitching themselves
| into their graves as they sit cross-egged on the
floor. His employment, like that of most of the
tailors in this district, comes chiefly from the West
End houses, and he has to live IN the neghborhood
to be within reach of bis masters. He was working
| painfully at some tough piece of army cloth.
| In another small street, called New street. re-
markabe for its condemned kitchens, was little
brokers' shop, which looked miserably bare of
stock. An old bedstead and one or two sma II art-
ces stood at the door, but the interior was empty
| The room at the back of the shop where the owner
| and his wife lived, with seven children, was also
| fort he hads ar ha :
most the last of their domestic furniture. The
man French-polisher out of work, and bit
| by bit his little home had been broken to pieces
| and sold to passers-by.
1t was suggested that an application to the par
! ish was proper thing under the circumstances;
but the wife proudly declined to ask for such char
| ity, saying they were well known in the neighbor-
| hood, and after poor.law relief they would never
| be able to hold up their heads. This is very com.
mon feeling, especially among poor-rate payers.
The most singular hole and corner in the district,
| is No. Husband street. 1t is a small yard
| tanning dust bin water tank, a couple of lower
rooms or cellars, that look like condemned cells,
| and number of rooms with black wooden exteri-
ors, reached by ladders, and supplied with rude
| balconies.
| The population of each room on each fat can
look over into the yard from these balconies which
help in some degree, to ventilate the place. Each
room is crowded with distinct family, having
many children; and one room contains mother
] law, in addition to the usual family. In of
| the small garrets is an old char-woman living by
! herself, who is going to the infrmary in a few
days; ard in the other garret is widow with three
children, who supports herself as taioress. Her
few goods seized for rent at her last lodgings,
| and she is now left without single article of fur
| niture, except few rags for bed.
The children were squatting on the bare boards,
and she standing up stitching at piece OF
scarlet cloth at the window. One advantage OF
living Gin tenements,' as it is called, is that the
poor come together and help each other, or their
lot would often be harder than it is. The misera.
! BILE lodger who has no fire can often run up OF