CORRESPONDENCE.
AMATEUR PHILANTHROPY.
Sin,—Some time ago there was an interesting essay in the Spectator, in which it was affirmed that the love of reading sermons was inherent in some people. It was not necessary that they should be religious, or even moral. They had a taste for theological literature, and the discussion of a dogma 'was as engrossing to them as is the plot of a first-rate novel to the ordinary reader. I mention this taste to make my meaning clear, when I say that philantkropy was, in the same sort of way, a species of passion with me, not entered upon from high motives, but simply from a natural impulse. From -quite early days, I was possessed with vague, wild dreams of benefiting mankind. Marcus Curtius' heroic leap was my favourite story, and I fondly imagined that if I had lived in those times I should have distinguished myself by some deed .of daring, pro bone public°, never for a moment being haunted by misgivings as to whether I might not shrink back when it came to the crisis ! As it was, I was obliged to find an outlet for my philanthropic spirit by pestering my friends to drop .pennies into my missionary-box, and, as I grew up, my desires to help mankind were turned into the commonplace channels of Sunday-school teaching, district visiting, and the like, so completely engrossing my spare time that my vague yearnings :seemed to be laid to rest. However, one day carelessly turning over the leaves of a publication issued by a certain Sisterhood, I came across a paragraph asking ladies, with time at their disposal, to come to London and take part in the work done at the Home, where they could be lodged and boarded for a small sum. This notice revived all my dormant zeal, and one -cold November evening I found myself craving admittance at the door of the Home.
I had come from far, and it was hardly reassuring to be kept some time waiting, and then to be scrutinised through the grille by the Sister, who finally opened to me. I found kth I was expected, and the Sister approved of my modest luggage, remarking that those who came with large boxes never stayed, but that the Gladstone-bag meant usually a sojourn of at least a month. Before taking me upstairs, she ushered me into a large room filled with ladies, busily chatting, and introduced me in a general way to them all. Then she kindly did the honours of my simply furnished sleeping apartment, and told me to find my way to the large room as soon as I was ready. I put on the cap and apron which were de rigueur for lady-workers, looking at myself in the tiny glass with some misgiving, as I felt that these accessories to my costume gave me much the appearance of an inferior housemaid. However, who could think of such trifles when one was about to do good work P I reproved myself while descending the stone staircase, and, bracing up my nerves to the ordeal, boldly entered the sitting-room. The buzz of con- versation had ceased, and I was chilled at the dead silence reigning around. Everybody stared at, but none deigned to speak to, me. For a moment I felt overcome with shyness ; but when I collected myself a little, I understood that this must be one of the hours of silence about which I had read, and I turned my attention to some coarse needlework lying about the long table. After awhile a bell rang, and the ladies made a simultaneous rush in one direction. Of course I followed them, and found myself assisting at a service. I fancy it was Compline, but as throughout my week's stay I never could remember the names of the many services, nor succeed in finding them in the little service-books scattered about the Chapel, I cannot be quite sure. Later on, we trooped into the great dining-hall for supper. Three long tables were devoted to the Sisters, and we visitors had one to ourselves, presided over by a Sister. I had hoped now for some con- versation, but found that silence at 'all meals was one of the rules of the Home. The food was plain, but good. I should, perhaps, have relished it more if the well-scrubbed deal table had been covered with a cloth, but doubtless it was a salutary reminder of the austerity of monastic life ! The orphans of the Home handed round the dishes, and if you wanted salt or bread, you were forced to attract the attention of the visitor nearest it, and then fix a stony glare on the desired article. One draw- back to the rule of silence was that every one ate in a tre- mendous hurry. As I had never been accustomed to do this, I suffered from hunger at first, as it would have required a bold spirit to go on eating after every one else had finished and the Sister was ready to give the signal to rise from table. We could not speak to one another from eight in the evening to after breakfast next morning, and I confess to finding the many intervals of silence trying, though I feel sure the disci- pline was wholesome. At breakfast a novice sat at our table, and read to us from a volume of Latimer's sermons, a de- pressing infliction. We then adjourned to the sitting-room, and a couple of charming Sisters came in to arrange our work for the day. As I could stay suoh a short time, they kindly determined to give me a bird's-eye view of all their work, and accordingly despatched three of us to find the Restaurant and Refuge at the Docks, which we did with the aid of a friendly policeman. A Sister took us over the cheerful Restaurant and down into the large airy kitchen, where great cauldrons of pea-soup and a sort of stew were simmering. To my horror, I noted dozens of cockroaches plastered on the wall above the cauldrons, evidently enjoying their steam bath. I wondered how many were in the habit of being converted into soup daily, and gathered up my skirts carefully, as I saw that one was comfortably installed on the Sister's long veil, from which position I record with shame that I lacked the courage to dislodge it ! We were next shown the " Refuge," where a number of sacking hammocks were slung, each pro- vided with a coloured blanket ; and by this time the " unem- ployed truck " was ready to start. A man wheeled it down to the Docks with its heavy load of soups and suet-puddings, and a Sister took me along with her to help to sell. She warned me to be careful about giving the men their proper change back, as one lady-helper had inadvertently cheated two men of a halfpenny apiece, and this so excited the hungry crowd that they nearly wrecked the truck and made off with its contents, the cause of the commotion being on the verge of fainting with terror at the storm she had raised. Fortunately, I had no experiences of this kind, Starved-looking men came up for their " ha'porth of stew," and several times a man would share his last coppers with a comrade. It needed the Sister's strongest arguments to restrain me from emptying my purse and giving a decent meal to as many as I could; but I was forced to con- tent myself with presenting " ha'porths " to a few wretched- looking mortals who had not even that requisite coin. At
times a man in an apron approached the stall, and the Sister told me to charge him double for what he bought, as the apron was a sign that he was in work.
The quiet despair and resignation among these poor unem- ployed men was heartrending. One literally yearned to do something for them, and I think I should have broken down and cried for very despair if one of my customers had not diverted my thoughts by remarking in a confidential under- tone that " he did not think the Sisters could treat their young serving-women very well, because they were always changing them. Was it because they were paid too little for helping them?" This tickled my sense of humour, and I can still hear the man's slow, " Well, I never ! " and his look of amaze- ment, as I explained that the " young women " gave their ser- vices for nothing. Next day I spent my morning in the church-school, instructing children in the three R's, and at 2 o'clock assisted in distributing bread and soup to eight hundred or nine hundred unemployed men, who filed into the large underground kitchen of the Home in relays. Piles of bread were ready, each loaf being ant into three parts, and a vigorous woman was dipping iron jugs into enormous cauldrons of pea-soup, and handing them to us when full. The men were seated on benches, grace was said, and the work began. We gave a portion of bread to each man, and poured the soup into countless bowls, which we handed round. It was a Rembrandtesque effect. The crypt-like kitchen and the dark faces of the men, only dimly seen through the wreaths of steam curling up into the air, made an impressive scene. Philanthropy aside, I never saw a more unprepossessing set of men ; and this free meal did not earn their gratitude in the least. One man grumbled because the bread was not fresh ; another complained that his piece was too small; and one or two asserted that their basins had not been washed with sufficient care.
A few days later, some friends of mine living near the Home had their house broken into ; and I was hardly surprised to hear that the police accounted for this by saying that the free meals given by the Sisters attracted bad characters from all parts of London to this neighbourhood, and, as a conse- quence, burglaries had become common there ! Perhaps the most interesting expedition I made was to Shoreditch. My companions were accustomed to the locality, and warned me to keep well in the centre of the streets, as the inhabitants were wont to throw all refuse out of their windows, heedless of passers-by. However, we passed safely through this danger, and on arriving at the depot were set to unpack parcels of the veriest rubbish (to the uninitiated), which we made up into "penny bundles" to tempt the fancy of the Shoreditch ladies. An odd glove, a scrap of tarletan, a pair of well-worn stockings, and a fragment of cloth, would be an acceptable pennyworth. But we could not stay to see the sale of the numerous bundles we had made up, as we had to carry cans of soup to various poor families. Eight human beings were herded together in one small room fvhich we entered, but for all that everything was. marvellously neat and clean. In this case, the soup was for the grandfather, a patriarchal-looking old man, who nodded cheerfully to his visitors, saying that he was as well as could be expected, con- sidering that he " lived by suction."
The ground-floor of the Vicar's house was given up to the men's club. Here the Shoreditch roughs met nightly to play bagatelle, practise with the boxing-gloves, and do gymnastics, sleeping there as well if they have no other refuge. I inquired if the musical ones had been organised into a band, but was told that it would be useless, as the instruments would be stolen. My heart was full as I thought of the noble work being done by the Vicar. Here was a man who had volun- tarily cut himself off from all culture, all society of his own class, to descend into a great gulf of sin and misery, holding out a hand of brotherhood to those in its depths, and doing all in his power to help them upwards towards the light. I was fired with enthusiasm, and longed to do some little good to the starving, suffering humanity around me. How- ever, it was the hour for the " Children's Halfpenny Tea," and I was soon occupied in handing round plates of bread-and- butter and cake to the little folks. One mite loudly rebuked me for venturing to give her her tea in an unwashed cup. " That's a dirty cup ! " she exclaimed energetically, " I shan't drink out o' that 1 Jes' go and wash it d'rectly ! " and shamefacedly I obeyed her behest. Much as I admired and reverenced the sweet, serene Sisters, yet I mentally rebelled against their life. Noble and self- denying as I knew it to be, I wondered whether any woman• ought to give up her own will so entirely to that of another.. Why must Sisters be so cut off from home ties? Why must they lose their individuality, and why is any special friend- ship between any two of them discouraged? But I feel I am, writing ignorantly, and more from hearsay than actual know- ledge. Because the set routine, the submission to the will of another, would be unendurable to me, still I trust I am not too narrow-minded to appreciate the great and good work effected by women banded together for mutual support under a strong leader, and subjecting themselves to a severe dis- cipline, in order that they may raise the fallen, nurse the sick, and feed the starving. All honour to them and their Christ-
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