The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1864-02-11

a 10nao0 Ntght-HG4Ae Lower
Clasees 81 Enslish 0oe1ety Suffer.
The Lostoa 7snes has the fslsowins sccount o
some aisht scenes In Londsa, cuSiousiy illuAirs
i've Of some Of ~ statements made by nGr, IA,
tn his wosk On ~ Social Condition of the Eng
lish PsorIe:"
A fsw evenings 90, Nisle before O'Clock
when the daskncse VA heavy and damp with thai
creep under any shelter and % spread its cold
touch over every .part Of the body, any unwilling
passenger who had 70 pass II the beck Of the na-
tioDai gallery would have noticed oiose crowd OF
o 3 s.s sy yss s.y = hs u. Sso
tnae hey were waiting for the opening Of tss casu-
and litde food.
II he went up to them he wonld have seen them
taken ilttle notice Of him, except that q man on
the outside Of the circle might elaAce Hneasiiy q,
him, aud edge away a. IL he did not like 10 be
~s,.,s. ssa !. az moved sY sense Of .uspc'on
life before"
The work house only admits, a. rule, twelve
men and twelve women, and some Of them must
have tho door shut against them. The door eoon
opens, and all their eyes fasten on busiey we'll
dressed, weIl-combed, well brushed official, the
greatest possible contrast tn the ring of paeness
squslos, and dirt outside. He is well accustomed
10 this sort Of sight, and there is quite business
like GOODNESS about his manner In the strange con
trast with the eager imporing stare of the helpless
faces below him. lie surveys the group carefully,
fret to see Il there are any who have been there
before; for IL will not do TO allow the casual ward
TO become an ordinary refuge to any one. A. he is
sure 10 have to turn awey some, he will admit
thtse who have not been there before. II is too
great luxary to be enjoyed by any one Two nights
running.
Al last ne makes sign. and one wemau passed
In, and another, and another, up to a dozen or So
and then pale, weary looking woman, with young
features, but aged looking hair, Is pushed on one
side, not roughly, but rresistibly by his arm, and
her head drops back and her eyes close despairngly
as she falls away into the rzn-fOg. Then he looks
around at the men and admits few Of them, pu s,
ing one or two Of them back with a touch of
rouyhRess he hardly showed the women. ..Don't
tell me no lies " he says sharply, 10 one who
sures him "I want here last night, sir in tone
which seems to imply that he knows why he Is
leeted. Fewer Of them admitted than of the
women, hut there still about dozen and a
half men and women outside. 1t is verv>wet, sir -
says pi0us woman's voice. 81 know 1t IL wet"
he says, as though the circumstances were quite
familiar 10 him, "but haven't room for all of you. -
Aftera word with the authorities behind he ad
mits one or two more, and the door shuts quietly,
but inevitably; and II is no good for those who
main TO look up at the light above the door and
hope for warmth within, and they turn their faces
away to the night.
They do not grumbIe the mass of them hardly
make one murnur; they know their fate, and 1t is
Inevitable, and they submit In passive despair
n
complaint, and seems, alone of them all, inclined
TO relieve herself by hard words against the work
house authorities. They break the circle and be-
gin to shrink away, but, as the Irish wOmaa turns
aud sees gentieAan waiting behind, she raises
her voice to louder aud director tone ol complaint
and then the others, who seemed to want even
spirit enough TO beg, felew her loud and less sensi
tive example, and z ther in doubtful and less
puzzled circle around the stranger; and then wnen
he can get the irishwonan to be quiet, he may
hear, In dull, impassive tones, where the helpless
creatures come from and what they have been do
ing. 1t is always the same story: "NO work for
three n;onths.' g has been dull time for tade.'
Some shave had no sOrk since summer"
Another ''hopes for work in February" One
wonlnn, single woman, has only "had a few
weeks work all the spring and summer" She has
no home and no friends in London, and she
swers all questions with sort of numbered apathy
which is almost more painful to listen TO than sharp
suffering If they are asked what they will do,
they shrug themselves and say they suppose they
must steep on the stones they can get lodging
In st. Giles for three pence. That half hopeless
II ut Is the oniy approach they make to beg 1t is
night, and a man must have q hard heart to have
witnessed ana questioned their misery and not
give them enough to get a lodging all around; and
then, with the strange confidence Of fellow despair,
those'whO have the money will be trusted to go
aGd gel lodgings, and the remainder win linger uG
I'll they are stretched under the cold shelter of a
door in the wall of the work house.
We believe a similar scene, sometimes worse
than this is to be witnessed nearly every night at
the door Ol ~. Maftln'S WORK mouse. Al almost
gny hour of the night men and women may be seen
huadied all together on the steps af the National
gallery or the doorsteps of the house-the men Of
ten with no coat, torn and filthy shirt, and use
less shoes, and the women In ragged, wet, and
filthy dresses, which hang about them In still mOrs
desolate ruin than even the broken down appear
ance Of the men.
Or, more pitable still, one may come upon an
undistnguishable lump of rags, and on bending
down TO examine it, finds it to he a girl bent w
with hsr hSad between her knees, shrinking from
the weather In the bafe recess of door step, and
asleep; aud 1t seems more charitable to leave h6r
to forget her misery for an hour or two than to give
her something, and wake her ugain to dssolation.