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HOW THE POOR LIVE. 57 " What are you going to do with it ? " " Please sir," he stammered, '' I'm goin' to take it 'ome to mother. She's ill and can't eat nothink, and I thought as she might manage cake, sir." In the train that brought those youngsters down came one white-faced child, who looked faint and ill with the walk to the station. The head teacher, who has the history of child at her fingers' end, saw what was the matter. " Had no breakfast to-day, Annie ? " " No, ma'am," was the faltering reply. There was a crowd of poor mothers at the station come to see the children off. One went out and presently returned with a penny, which she pressed into the child's hand—to buy herself something with. The woman had pawned her shawl for a copper or two in sheer womanly sympathy. Had she had the money about her she needn't have left the station. There was a good deal of pawning that morning, I know, from an eye-witness, and all to give the little children a copper or two to spend. And what a struggle there had been to get them something decent to wear for that grand day out! If all the stories were written that could be told of the privations and sacrifices endured by mothers, that Sally and Jane and Will might look respectable at the treat, your heart would ache. As I don't wish it to, we will not go into the matter. CHAPTER XII. To get an odd job at the Docks is often the last hope of the labouring men who are out of regular employment, and to whom the acquisition of a few shillings for rent, and the means of subsistence for themselves and families, is a task fraught with as much difficulty as were some of the labours, the accomplishment of which added in no inconsiderable degree to the posthumous fame of Hercules. When it is borne in mind that sometimes at the West India Docks—taking one for example—as many as 2,500 hands can be taken on in the morning, it will be easily understood that the chance of employment draws an immense concourse of men daily to the gates. The time to see what I venture to think is one of the most remarkable sights in the world, is an hour at which the general public is not likely to be passing by. Sometimes the hands are engaged as enrly as four, but it is generally about six o'clock that the quay-gangers ascend the rostrums or elevated stands which are placed all along the outside wall, and survey the huge crowd in front of them, and commence to call them out for work and send them into the different docks where the good ships lie, with their vast cargoes, waiting for willing hands to unload them. The pay is fivepence an hour, and the day's work lasts for eight hours. It is miscellaneous, and a man is expected to put his hand to anything in the shape of loading or unloading that the occasion may require. Stand outside the dock gates any morning about six, and you will have plenty to study among the vast crowd of men, more or less dilapidated and hungry-looking who fill all the approaches and line the banks in front of the rostrums. Many of them are regular men, who are called " Royals " and who are pretty sure to be taken on, their names being on the ganger's list and called out by him as a matter of course. These men show signs of regular employment, and differ very little from the ordinary labourer. The strangest part of the crowd are the ragged, wretched, wobegone- looking outcasts who are penniless, and whose last hope is that they may have the luck to be selected by the ganger. Many of these come from the distant parts of London, from the North, and the South, and the East, and the West. Some of them have tramped all night, and flung themselves down to sleep at the great dock gates in the early dawn, determined to be in the front rank. They are of all sorts, sizes, and conditions. Among them is the seedy clerk, the broken-down betting-man, the discharged soldier, the dismissed policeman, the ticket-of-leave man, the Jack-of-all-trades, the countryman, and the London rough. An enormous proportion of the regular men are Irish and of the ordinary labouring class, but now and then a foreigner or a nejro crops up among the crowd. One man there is among them who wears his rough jacket and his old battered billycock with a certain air of gentility, and whose features are strangely refined when compared with the coarser lineaments of those around him. In the Docks they call him " the nobleman." He is a gentleman by birth and education; he can swear, I believe, in four languages ; and as a matter of fact is the son of a
Object Description
Title | How the poor live |
Creator | Sims, George Robert |
Publisher | Chatto |
Place of Publication | London |
Date | 1883 |
Language | eng |
Type | Books/Pamphlets |
Description
Title | 00000057 |
Type | Books/Pamphlets |
Transcript | HOW THE POOR LIVE. 57 " What are you going to do with it ? " " Please sir," he stammered, '' I'm goin' to take it 'ome to mother. She's ill and can't eat nothink, and I thought as she might manage cake, sir." In the train that brought those youngsters down came one white-faced child, who looked faint and ill with the walk to the station. The head teacher, who has the history of child at her fingers' end, saw what was the matter. " Had no breakfast to-day, Annie ? " " No, ma'am," was the faltering reply. There was a crowd of poor mothers at the station come to see the children off. One went out and presently returned with a penny, which she pressed into the child's hand—to buy herself something with. The woman had pawned her shawl for a copper or two in sheer womanly sympathy. Had she had the money about her she needn't have left the station. There was a good deal of pawning that morning, I know, from an eye-witness, and all to give the little children a copper or two to spend. And what a struggle there had been to get them something decent to wear for that grand day out! If all the stories were written that could be told of the privations and sacrifices endured by mothers, that Sally and Jane and Will might look respectable at the treat, your heart would ache. As I don't wish it to, we will not go into the matter. CHAPTER XII. To get an odd job at the Docks is often the last hope of the labouring men who are out of regular employment, and to whom the acquisition of a few shillings for rent, and the means of subsistence for themselves and families, is a task fraught with as much difficulty as were some of the labours, the accomplishment of which added in no inconsiderable degree to the posthumous fame of Hercules. When it is borne in mind that sometimes at the West India Docks—taking one for example—as many as 2,500 hands can be taken on in the morning, it will be easily understood that the chance of employment draws an immense concourse of men daily to the gates. The time to see what I venture to think is one of the most remarkable sights in the world, is an hour at which the general public is not likely to be passing by. Sometimes the hands are engaged as enrly as four, but it is generally about six o'clock that the quay-gangers ascend the rostrums or elevated stands which are placed all along the outside wall, and survey the huge crowd in front of them, and commence to call them out for work and send them into the different docks where the good ships lie, with their vast cargoes, waiting for willing hands to unload them. The pay is fivepence an hour, and the day's work lasts for eight hours. It is miscellaneous, and a man is expected to put his hand to anything in the shape of loading or unloading that the occasion may require. Stand outside the dock gates any morning about six, and you will have plenty to study among the vast crowd of men, more or less dilapidated and hungry-looking who fill all the approaches and line the banks in front of the rostrums. Many of them are regular men, who are called " Royals " and who are pretty sure to be taken on, their names being on the ganger's list and called out by him as a matter of course. These men show signs of regular employment, and differ very little from the ordinary labourer. The strangest part of the crowd are the ragged, wretched, wobegone- looking outcasts who are penniless, and whose last hope is that they may have the luck to be selected by the ganger. Many of these come from the distant parts of London, from the North, and the South, and the East, and the West. Some of them have tramped all night, and flung themselves down to sleep at the great dock gates in the early dawn, determined to be in the front rank. They are of all sorts, sizes, and conditions. Among them is the seedy clerk, the broken-down betting-man, the discharged soldier, the dismissed policeman, the ticket-of-leave man, the Jack-of-all-trades, the countryman, and the London rough. An enormous proportion of the regular men are Irish and of the ordinary labouring class, but now and then a foreigner or a nejro crops up among the crowd. One man there is among them who wears his rough jacket and his old battered billycock with a certain air of gentility, and whose features are strangely refined when compared with the coarser lineaments of those around him. In the Docks they call him " the nobleman." He is a gentleman by birth and education; he can swear, I believe, in four languages ; and as a matter of fact is the son of a |