Henry Stuart Baker at the Chester Union Workhouse, Cheshire, 1911.

CHESTER'S "WEARY WILLIES".

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A NIGHT AT THE WORKHOUSE.

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THEIR TRAITS AND CHARACTERISRICS.

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(By Amateur Casual.)

As one who for some period has studied the curious lives led by those aimless wanderers of "the road," known to readers as tramps, I trust in this brief article to interest them by describing my experiences among the "Weary Willies" while spending a night in the casual ward of the Chester Workhouse. Every evening, about half five, a number of slouching, tattered, miserable looking specimens of may be seen making their way towards the "Big House." They have tramped or "padded the oof" from Wrexham, Liverpool, Northwich, Dutton, and other places within an area of twenty miles, and their object is to claim a shelter in the tramp ward at the expense of the ratepayers of the city. Out of the four or five thousand nomads travelling the highways and byways of England and Wales, Chester, in my opinion, receives and relieves more than its share. Almost every night the number exceeds thirty, and often reaches a hundred when the fruit pickers are making their yearly excursion into the strawberry country. Probably Chester being on the direct route into Wales, the Mecca of the "Weary Willie," accounts in some measure fur the numbers quoted. I came from Northwich with an old, white-haired tramp, who boasted of having spent 40 years on the "main drag" (the road), and remarked "Chester 'spice,' lad, aint at all a bad 'un. Yer get summut warm, night an' morning, an' not a bad 'lay down' an' yer can get a good rest, for yer can easy do the bit of work they gives yer." This testimonial to the virtues of Chester casual ward I had heard verified in various parts of the country, so I determined, as I was penniless, footsore and weary, to try it for myself. Before. however, relating my experiences, it may do well for me to give my readers a few of the traits and characteristics of the tramps who visit the city. These roadsters may be divided into five classes. First comes the "gagger," a wastrel of the first water. Attired in semi-respectable clothing, and wearing a celluloid collar, his modus operandi is to accost some benevolent-looking personages in the street, and with a good "gag," viz., a pitiful story of poverty, appeal for coppers. Next comes the "griddler," that obnoxious personage who, taking up his stand in some of the back street of the city, raises his raucous voice, and chants such mournful ditties as "Where is my wandering boy to-night?" or such hymns as "Abide with me." Then we have the "moucher" or "door thumper," well known to Chester housewives. Warily, generally at meal times, he approaches the back door of their premises, carrying a small tin can, a "drum" he terms it, and begs tea, hot water and food. The fourth class is the burly navvy, in his earth-stained clothes, en route for Wales. This class are frequent visitors to the casual ward, for they seldom stick to a job for any length of time. The last class of "roadster" is the genuine unemployed workman in search of employment. Often he is compelled to shelter at Chester Workhouse, and it is this class who should claim one's sympathy. Unfortunately, under the present system of Poor Law government, he gets little better treatment than that meted out to the regular tramps. Often I have found this class, weary, hungry, discouraged at not finding work, apt to drift into the ranks of the aimless vagrants. The descent is easy, the ascent so difficult. The old "roadster" says: "Once a tramp, always a tramp," and again, "Once a man gets a taste of casual ward life, be seldom loses it," and there is certainly some truth in these sayings. Of the tramps who visit Chester 33 per cent. are ex-soldiers, many of them still, despite their precarious existence, well set-up men. Only 10 per cent., I estimate, are of the genuine un employed class, the remainder being made up of hopeless ne'er-do-wells, content to drag out a miserable life on the charity of others.

Chester canal ward is known to the tramps as a "spike," a "derrick," or a "grubber," and the workhouse is the "lump." The food served out to casuals is termed "rooty," "tommy" or "scran," the bed is a "lay down," and the workhouse inmates, who assist in the reception of the tramps, are facetiously referred to as "tramp majors." It was a cold evening when, in company with two young "mouchers," I limped towards the workhouse. One of my companions boasted of the food he had begged in the city, while the other laughed merrily over the way in which be had dodged "Johnny Gallagher," as he termed the Chester constabulary. Arrived at the workhouse gates, I found myself among a motley crowd of about twenty "Weary Willies," shivering and cursing at the delay of the gatesman in opening the portals. At length, however, we were admitted, and I hobbled painfully in the rear towards that portion of the workhouse buildings devoted to the vagrants. Soon I found myself seated in a large room, well warmed with hot water pipes. We were a curious crew of nomads. A few made a hasty meal of the food they bad begged, others smoked "H. H. U." (hand-picked, hard up), being the cigarette ends culled from the pavements; some sat sullen, in half-imbecile attitudes. At a word from the tall "tramp major" we filed up to the porter's office, and there, when my turn came, I gave in my name, age, occupation, place journeyed from, and destination. I also handed in a small parcel, containing my meagre property, then, carrying my supper, pint of hot "skilly" (gruel) and a 6oz. cob of bread, I went back to the room and made short work of the food, which I found ample and good. Then came the order of the bath, a ceremony much disliked by the regular tramps, who are compelled to partake of a score or more hot baths during a month. This ablution, however, is most necessary, for the average "roadster" is not prone to cleanliness. I enjoyed the hot bath, and donning a workhouse nightshirt, was shewn to my sleeping chamber. This I found to consist of a whitewashed cell. The sloping, wooden floor was my bed, and two rugs my covering. It was, however, well warmed, and arranging my rugs, I endeavoured to compose myself to slumber. But in vain. The boards were hard, very hard, and I turned about frequently in my endeavours to find a soft spot, so that I was very glad when about 6.30 the next morning the cell door was opened, and I was told to dress. This accomplished, breakfast arrived, a similar meal to the supper of the preceding night, and this I quickly consumed. At 8 o'clock came the call to work. Now, every tramp accommodated in the casual ward is expected by the Guardians to accomplish a task of work in return. At Chester he is detained all day, and so spends two nights in the ward. On the arrival of the porter, that official quickly picked out the "old bends," and allotted them a task of stone-breaking. Other "Weary Willies," less experienced, he sent to the wood shod, there to cut up with cross-cut saws a number of "sleepers" A certain number he retained for cleaning the premises Through that day I laboured with a fellow-roadster working a cross-cut saw, not difficult work, but apt to become wearisome. At 12 o'clock we "knocked off" for an hour, and received dinner — 8oz. of bread, with 2oz. of cheese — afterwards resuming work until about 4 o'clock in the afternoon. After a wash, a meal of skilly and bread was served out, and by 5 o'clock I was again in my cell, wrapped in my rugs. Next morning, after another gruel breakfast, I was allowed to de part. Such is the treatment meted out to Chester's "Weary Willies" by the Guardians. Is my experience of various casual wards I can vouch for the fact that the one connected with Chester Workhouse is far more humane and charitable then many I have visited. The premises are kept very clean and neat, and the officials in their often unpleasant duties shew much consideration, and are devoid of the hectoring and bullying methods often adopted in the shelters set apart for the "Weary Willies" of England and Wales.