The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1888-07-13
IRIS CHANT ON LONDON POVERTY.

Wv EUN LHtE \ .
Mrs. Laura Ormiston Chant has spoken
on many subjects in this country during
her crowded weeks here, but upon none
with more ea|rnestness or power thar upon
the poverty and degradation Of London,
and the earnest work which a great army
Of as noble men and women as the sun
ever shone IN are doing there to make
things better. In one of her lectures in
Ann Arbor she told the following incidents
in her own personal experience, which
throw strong light upon the terribleness of
the poverty and suffering in the great
English metropolis, poverty and suffer
ing, alas! nearly if not quite ~equalled in
some of our great cities on this side of the
sea. She said:
Il started out with a friend one morning
before daylight for n walk over the Thames
bridge, a f~avorite sleeping place for Lon
don's poor, and there we saw 207 men and
a number of women, sleeping out in the
open air, in their helpless ~piteousness,
grouped together in various positions, the
head of one resting on the body of another,
two or three here and there huddled to-
gether for mutual comfort, and occasion
ally would be seen the poor, wan, upturn-
ed face of a helpless starving
Oh! it was a picture, a study for future ar
fists. 1t was an awful sight to see 207 Of
our brothers and sisters out there sleeping
or walking YEARLY up and down the whole
night long. 1t was enough to break ones
heart.
"Another night about two o'clock, ac-
companied by my husband, | was driving
through the streets, and saw a young girl
not more than sixteen years old, carrying
Il little babe, slowly walking up and down,
alone and unattended. | went up to her
aud asked if she had no home. With an
oath she turned on me and demanded what
business was it of mine whether she had
or not. After some persuasion, she told
me she must remain in the street until
morning; that her husband had come home
drunk, kicked her and her child out Of
doors, and so she must remain walking
up and down until he saw fit to let her in
the house again. I took her into my cab
and drove to a coffee house, where for a
small sum of money, | procured her some
nourishment, and then babe her goodbye.
| could not get her to leave the drunken
brute of a husband, but turning away, she
said with a sigh, There's only one more
honr to wait, then he'll let me in ! tell
you, my friends, the price of the salvation
of our fellows is our eternal vigilance. 1t
is in these awful depths Of misery and
crime that we find our newspaper TRACE
dies.
s'If wages for men and wOne for the
same work were alike. it woHld have a
great tendency to decrease debauchery and
crime, and to stop this awful struggle for
existence. But the wages paid the work
ing women of London are nothing. Six
cents they receive Cor making a white shirt,
and find their own thread :.nd needles.
But you say, why don't they strike? Yes,
the men can strike and get higher wages,
but let the poor women strike and their
work is taken away from them altogether.
and given to others. The great curse of
the sewing women is the middlemen or
Sweaters as they are called; and nc less
than thirteen of them share in the profits
between the sewing women and the retail
err. A woman, possibly with " or three
| children, makes a pair OF trousers requiring
| four hours work, for which she is to re-
ceige two pence. She takes them to a
sweater under whose contract she is
working, and he looks them over, and fl
nally finds fault with the button holes; they
are not worked enough. He says You
must be drllled-stand there!' She stands
there hour after hour, for if she stirs she
will lose her money. Think of it! She
has perhaps left 4 little babe at home,
which il %perchance crying from hunger.
Yet stand there she must. The mex day
she returns and stands in the same posi-
ton till she has been sufficiently drilled
and the sweater gives her her money.
ooh, my friends, don't grow weary Of
your immigrants. II You could realize
how they are crushed down by the poverty
of foreign lands; how they long to reach
the shores of free America. yen would bid
them welcome"