"SEEMS SO."—THE POOR LAW REPORT.

el WHAT'S it all about, then, this here Poor Law buzz F" Dave Perring asked ; "1 an't heard nort o' it till now. What do 'em want to do avf u F"

That is the point : What do they want to do With us ? not, what do we want to do With ourselves ? not, what do we, who have to live our life, think fit ? It is pretty safe to say that the Poor Law Commission's Report, which closely concerns every working-class family in the country (for none are far removed from starvation whose only stook-in-trade is them- selves, who have nothing to fall back upon when times are bad or health fails), will go into scarcely a single working household; and it could not be read if it did, both on account of its length and on account of its use of sociological jargon.

If a homely summary could be put within reach of ell, in every club, reading-room, and poblie-house But that is too much to hope. Besides, no means exist of gathering together working-class opinions. Neither elections nor news- papers do it, and Labour representatives always go off on their own as soon as they are in a position to represent anything. In this house we have the summary of Messrs. C. B. Hawkins and J. S. Nicholson, of Toynbee Hall, and the reports of the Times and one or two other newspapers. We have read , these and discussed them over meals until the children, with that superb indifference which they learn at school, stared and thought us teazel Though we can only say, " Seems so to us from those reports," we have at any rate seen enough to make us admire the keen, just, and careful spirit of the Commissioners ; enough to make us glory in their straight talk about workhouses and relief; enough to make us hate many of their proposals, because of one detestable thing on which their working depends.

"Let's reckon up what 'twould he for the likes o' us," said Dave, when we finished the reports. "Take me. S'pose this here pain what I gets wi' hauling au' straining was to get so that I couldn't earn nort. What then F" " Thee's forgot, me," Mrs. Pet-ring remarked. "I could bring in sumnaut if I had to go out to work."

"Well, s'pose thee wast took wi' the gout from high living or too much washing-day. 'Tis the workhouse now, an' that's the end o'ee ; but they'll' going to do away wi' thic. What'd I do ? "

"You'd get doctored free by the public health people, or by club-doctors or dispensaries that you'd paid into, and you'd be maintained at home so long as you kept your house sanitary and lived healthily."

" Us knows the worth o' the doctoring that you don't pay for, an' a lot that you do.—An' how be they to know how I keeps my house?"

"They'd inspect you. They'd say: 'If you take our help, you must put up with our inspection.'" "Inspect you! Aye! That's all they minds. Pretty turn- out o' it to hue 'spectoPs always buzzing round thee! I'd like to see what they as sends 'em 'mild do if they had to live in a crib like this here an' bring up a family on my earnings, for all our house is better than most. Ought to be ; I pays more for it.—An' s'pose I fell out o' work ? "

"They'd have labour exchanges to toll you in what part of the country men of your trade were wanted. . . ."

"That's all right; only there's lots o' good men, thee know, that'd rather do nort an' go short than leave their home an' friends. Can't blame 'em.—An' if they couldn't got me a job thie way ? "

"They'd put you in a certain class of unemployed and treat you according. If you're a good man out of a regular job they'd keep you going in work and cash till you got your proper work ; if you're a casual, a fairly good man but unskilled, they'd send you to a labour colony and keep your family while you were away ; and if you're a loafer, work-shy, or a drunkard, they'll make you go to a labour colony and compel you to work."

"How be 'em to know what sort o' man I be ? "

"They'll keep papers showing your history. . . ."

" Aye! for the devil knows who to look at. An' how be they to know my history ?"

"They'd inspect and inquire."

"An' so they may, chatteriag to the neighbours, like they 'specters' ao, an' telling 'em dree-ha'p'orth o' lies in exchange for dree-penn'orth o' tittle-tattle about thee! They 'specters, always makes more mischief than they 'spects."

"They propose even, when they relieve anybody, to inquire into his family's circumstances and make them contribute..."

"An' a pretty parcel o' lies they'll get, au' well they'll deserve it too! How'd 'era like. their. own families 'spected ? You'd think the likes o' us was consignments o' rotten fish." Mrs. Perring put in her word-. " Look what the National Cruelty 'spector did for Mrs. Sherwin. 'Twas a shame, I reckon. Her's so hard-working a woman as anybody, an' Clean too, an' her's often and often gone short for to give they kids o' hers enough. They'm so happy as any chirern I knows of, for all they'm poor. Well, somebody tells up a parcel o' chatter an' down conies the 'spector 'long wi' a policeman. In they goes, wi'out any warrant as I've heard of. The 'spector asks her if her's married to her man. Says Mrs. Sherwin,

'Do'ee think I'd be bothered a family o' chil'ern like mine if I wasn't !' But her refused to show 'en her marriage lines, not if her burnt 'em or went to prison for't. Up goes the 'Spector an' turns over all the bedclothes an' feels the beds

his hands, like so. They was clean, he said. Down he Comes again, an' turns up the chil'ern's hair, an' pokes his nose into cupboards an' everywhere; an' when Mr. Sherwill, coming home, asks 'en what he wanted there, he says, None e your cheek, my lad !' Didst ever hear the like o' it P And, o' course, everybody round about know'd to once that ber'd had the 'spector in 'bug wi' the policeman, an' that don't make it no easier for her to rub along. There's no telling what they 'specter's won't do, once you lets 'em start. I tells

em to clear out pretty quick, but there's many as they frightens into it. No doubt the National Cruelty means well, an' they may do some good in rough cases, but taking it all ways they does more harm than good, I reckon."

" Course they do," Dave added. "How can 'em help o' it ? Be 'em God for to know by lookiug round what you deserves, an' what's in your heart, an' how you've a-tried au' tried—or an't tried—an' what you've had to contend with ? 'Twould puzzle God Hisself to tell, some o' it as I've seed in ray experience, an' I'm sure they sort never can't. Rogues can always find a Way to fool they 'spectors, an' honest folk, as looks what they is, they gets catched ; for none on us be perfect, thees know, an' thee casn't be thy brother's keeper."

In many details the Commissioners' proposals are more kindly and thoughtful than any that have been made before; but to what end, since the general schemes of both majority and minority are dependent on inspection for their proper working ? No sooner does the Commission come to handgrips with poverty itself than out pops an inspector, like a jack- in-the-box. And not only that; voluntary charity is to be thoroughly reorganised and put on an inquisitorial basis. In the sweat of thy brow, and under the eyes of inspectors, shalt thou eat thy bread Must no one give without being certain of his money's-worth? Can no one receive without being demoralised? Inspection means the judgment of one class by the standards of another; the teaching of people bow to live under circumstances of which the teachers have bad no Personal experience. If carried through, it means also the forcing of the ideals of one class upon another class, and nothing is so demoralising as that. It is mainly by confusing el:as-ideals that elementary education, as we know it, has been able to do the harm which the Commission admits it has done. The Report proposes that a higher grade, a better educated type, of inspector should be appointed. To 'what end, again ? The semi-educated inspector, only a cut above the inspected in position, cannot but be at heart an enemy of, and unsympathetic towards, the class be is always afraid of falling into himself. And the educated inspector will be at the mercy of his educated nerves. If he hears the noise and language we don't mind, if he smells the swells that don't hurt us, if he sees the food we enjoy flung higgledy-piggledy on the table, and the house when it is "up to neck " long before the one woman who has to do all the work has bad time to tidy up,—he will condemn us because his nerves will be offended. That we are able to put up with those things is our strength, not our weakness. The Commission has judged its proposed officials by itself. We are not sure—who can be P—and we are far from wishing to cast slurs on the proposals of a Commission which has criticised and spoken with such courage; but our impression is that the twin-sisters who love us so—Destitution and Dieease—will in the long run weed out the fit from the unfit, the deserving front the undeserving, the hopeless from the hopeful, more fairly, aud more mercifully too, than a blight of inspectors let loose upon the laud.

" Let 'em gie us our chance," says Dave, "an' leave us to fight it out for ourselves." Give us a fair chance, he means, Of fioallng or sinking ; stop pushing us under; and let us

go forward on our own lines, in our own time. Mankind in the mass moves very slowly, and cannot be hustled with impunity. Sociology mil efficiency are right enough in their places, but for actual dealing with human beings, patience and charity are still of more avail : patience, always patience, though it is hard to be patient when poor creatures are brought, or bring themselves, to starvation ; and charity that suffereth long and is kind, because it knows that in the end no man's judgment of another is worth much. How can it be?

SIE.PIIEN REYNOLDS, Author of "A Poor Man's House."

[We do not doubt that the poor as a body hate inspection as heartily as the particular men and women for whom Mr. Reynolds speaks. But we must not forget that there is an easy way to avoid inspection. No man who is self- supporting is in any danger of the dreaded inspector. The priceless gift of independence closes the door to him. But if inspection is an evil, indiscriminate, muinquiring, higgledy- piggledy help—help, that is, without inquiry—is a hundred' times worse for those who receive it, and for the nation which gives it. All experience shows that help claimed as a right, or help given because a man or his wife and children and home seem sufficiently wretched and dirty—that is what help without inquiry means in practice—is the greatest of the curses that can fall on the poor. Inquiry and inspection cannot be avoided. if destitution is to be relieved by the State or by private charity. In spite of this, we can honour Dave's plea, "Leave us to fight it out for ourselves." And, remember, leaving the poor to fight it out, though it precludes doles and pauperism- tiou, need not preclude true friendship, sympathy, and respect. What it does preclude is:—" Chuck the poor devil a half- crowu. I dare say be doesn't deserve it, but I'd rather he had it without deserving it than that I should be made uncomfortable by the thought of his going without a meal. That 'ud spoil my own dinner."—En. Spectator.]