ACROSS THE BRIDGES,

MR. ALEXANDER PATERSON not only writes well, but writes with knowledge. This is a too rare combination in books which tell us about poor districts. We all know the clever writer whose very cleverness is a snare because his theorising

is seductive even while it leads the reader far away from reality. Mr. Paterson writes a distinguished and critical style, and he belongs to the neighbourhood he describes. The Bishop of Southwark, in an introduction, says :—

" He has spent years of work in their clubs upon the boys of one of the most crowded and difficult regions of South London. He has worked as an assistant teacher (being himself a University graduate) in an Elementary Council School in order to see from within the working upon the boys of the mental and moral in- fluences of the school ; in summer camps he has shared and disciplined their play ; through their lives he has passed into the heart of the families from which they come ; and, as a tenement- dweller himself, he has come into daily and hourly contact with all the ways of that life" Much that Mr. Paterson says about the riverside dwellers on the south side of the Thames is depressing, but the book has

this great value. in common with work like that of Miss Loane and Mr. C. E. B. Russell, that it is not ultimately depressing.

In its general effect it is a call and an incentive; it is never an exploiting of sensations.

The man who goes down the Strand, says Mr. Paterson, speaks of that part of London which lies across the bridges as a quarter in which it is not possible to find a good tailor or a big hotel. Yet in this stretch of eight miles along the river

live nearly two million persons. One may get a notion of the rarity of- any memorable buildings or monuments in South London by looking at an omnibus ticket : the names of the stopping places are public-houses and undistinguished streets. Across the bridges the Bricklayers' Arms plays the part of St. Paul's or Westminster Abbey on the other side. Nor has South London even the assistance of the sinister popularity which belongs to the "East End." We remember reading an

analysis of the temperament of South London by a clergyman

• Across the Bridges or, Life by the South London ,Rteernde. By Alexander Paterson. With an Introduction by the Bev. E. S. Talbot, D.D. London: Edward Arnold. Os.]

who knew its people well. He called South London a sort of social doldrums in which the vivacity and precocity of the youthful East-ender were wanting. Mr. Paterson does not draw any such contrast between South and East, but this may be because he does not write, like the clergyman, of streets which are not in a state of chronic want.

Chronic want waiting on sheer improvidence has, with all its terrible disadvantages, .certain mental stirrings, because it means a battle of wits fought out day by day against a fate which has never been conciliated. The newspaper boy de- scribed in Across the Bridges is typical of the subjects of Mr. Paterson's study. He takes to selling newspapers because he thus acquires more money at a leap after leaving school than he would get by apprenticing himself to a skilled trade ; be also has the unceasing panorama and excitement of the streets to beguile his eye and to satisfy the universal

London craving for watching. But the end is unemployment, drift, and disaster. Perliaps, again, there is something stimulating in . the unceasing movements of the life of the river for those who live near its banks. In any case, Mr. Paterson describes a South London boy every bit as sharp as his East End brother, but the sharpness and the joy of living soon have their eclipse. Men and girls marry young across the bridges, and settle down to a drudgery which knows few smiles after the age of about thirty. A man of between thirty and forty is no longer interested in the latest music-ball catchword nor engages in the waggeries of the • street ; yet he has no mental compensations : he has even for- gotten what he learnt at school, for he has never kept his information fresh by reading the serious parts of the news- papers. His home is uncomfortably crowded and his surroundings are utterly uninspiring. "In the riverside streets," says Mr. Paterson, "pride finds little place. Neither the name nor the condition of the street would suggest that anyone living there cared for this row of houses more than for any other."

We speak of the family as the centre of our national life, and it is obviously important to know—more important even for those who -are jealous of the principle than for those who are indifferent to it—what the family system means across the

bridges. The pages on this subject are, to our mind, the most interesting in thebook. Mr. Paterson says :- "It is natural that the authority of the father should not be quite so strong as in those other families where he is the only bread-winner, and is the natural support of every other member. In many homes by the river he only contributes one half of the whole weekly income, the other- half coming from his boys and girls, and perhaps also from his wife. This fact tends to weaken his traditional position, and to make children of sixteen openly independent. Until the age of fourteen a boy obeys his parents, and responds to such measure of discipline as may be expected ; but at that age he leaves school, and immediately earns enough to pay the rent. He now begins to be a person of more importance, whose wishes may be observed. At whatever hour he may come in from work, he may reasonably demand his tea ; while he was at school he must needs be in at the proper time, and take what he was given or go without altogether. As a wage-earner, hard at work all day, he claims the unquestioned right to stay out till eleven o'clock at night. This abdication of the father in favour of his children is more marked in the poorer quarters. There a boy of eighteen will often be found to be the main, if not the entire, support of a small family. He will, without comment, expect and receive two kippers for his tea, while his unemployed father will make the most of bread-and-butter."

Again:—

Sunday dinner is the only time of reunion, and generally occurs at 2 p.m. The whole family does indeed assemble then and eat together,' though in small homes where there are many children the younger ones will be found scattered over the room, eating their share on the bed or by the fire. At tea-time the family is about as certain to be together again, at this time rein- forced by uncles or aunts, or old friends, from other parts of London. These hospitable customs of Sunday afternoon explain the crowded state of trams and omnibuses at this hour, for nearly everyone has friends over the water.' Often the party is pro- longed into the evening ; in some social circles music and dancing will 'carry it on till nearly midnight. Apart from these Sunday celebrations, the whole family is scarcely ever found together."

It may be' asked what is the value of such a family life as this P Is it worth postponing any political ex-

pedient, which seems desirable in itself, on the ground that it muy impair an ink** ution which has in reality so little significance or sanctity P Mr. Paterson sees below the sui-face and knows that, howeier much the family idea tuay be dishonoured, it is the only fact 'in the lives of fat& aehe -dedcribes Which serves for an ideal Viluielt remains it is always capable of extension and refinement;

even now it means many mumbling obligations ; but if it goes,' everything goes.. In times of illness and bereavement the family unites almost without fail. If an attack be made on a member of the family by a private enemy or by the law, the

family closes its ranks and stands solid. In this matter Mr.. Paterson is an optimist.. He says :- " The group instinct is so firmly inset in the national character that every healthy and hard-working man falls unconsciously into this way of living. The Poor-Law boy, who has never known a home-life himself, as soon as he has scrambled on to his legs and is in a good position, becomes the head of a model home-loving- family, doing as much for his children as any-father, and never reflecting that, because the State fed him, it should feed them also."

In his chapters on education Mr. Paterson pleads very wisely in principle as it seems to us, though we cannot say what the practical difficulties might be, for such a co-operation between elementary teachers and parents as would make the latter sensible of taking part in the education of their children:

As it is they regard education as a time when their children are conveniently off their hands, and in most cases they have- never even seen the teachers. The parents receive no "reports" from the school, and do not know whether their children are doing well or badly. The children do no -home- work, though the school hours are short ; there is no practice

of visiting by the teachers ; and thus parents are never drawn into any sense of participation in the great fact of education.: This system, Mr. Paterson thinks, is the worst enemy of "parental responsibility" in existence.

Mr. Paterson has, of course, observed the uneconomical habits which are, unfortunately, almost universal among the poor and enormously increase the cost of living. Food is bought in pennyworths; thus raising the cost unnecessarily

by fifteen or twenty per cent. Clothes are so ill cared for,. although all love buying new ones, that what might be an encouraging sign of personal pride is generally a wild extrava- gance. A boy with a new suit is so proud of it that he will wear it for all purposes outside his working hours, and its life

is less than half as long as it would be on the back of a richer

man. In Mr. Paterson's remarks on pawnbrokers we miss the note of indulgence and gratitude with which, we remember,.

Mr. John Burns once spoke of pawnbrokers as the bankers of the poor. They charge their interest, of course, but if pledg,

ing clothes and furniture does not become a habit, as it. too. often does, a loan from a pawnbroker on proper security may be a most timely assistance to a poor man, who is in the pOsi-7 tion of a richer man requiring temporarily an overdraft at his.

bank.