A Real Casual on Casual Wards - St. Pancras (1866).

St. Pancras, I believe, at the present time does not take in any casuals, owing to the fever being in that workhouse. I was there last about the beginning of the month of November, 1865. A tall man, very much like a policeman disguised, takes you in at the door, and looks at you, and asks the questions — the usual ones — in the most offensive way I can imagine. In fact, a perfect bully! At last we are delivered into the hands of an aged pauper doorkeeper, who conducts us about twenty yards up the front area and knocks at a small door, which is opened by a man who evidently, by his manners and speech (both very affected), wants to impress the poor casuals with a due sense of his importance.

The casual ward is not large, and holds fifteen men, I think. Bunks with common hay mattress, and one very thin rug. A chair besides the fire to accomodate the distinguished person of our gentleman pauper, and two or three baths near the door, screened from the gaze by a piece of green stuff or cotton. The water in the bath does for all, and as towels are very valuable articles, they, also, are scarce. To make up for a very many deficiencies, there was a very good fire.

We went to bed by 8 o'clock (taken in at 6), and had a small piece of bread for supper. I managed to get to sleep very soon, being somewhat tired, but awoke about 1 o'clock, very cold, and found most of my companions were awake also. The fire had gone out, and only having one thin rug, the cold felt intense. Our clothes were taken away from us, or I should have been inclined to use them as a covering. I slept no more, and got up about 7 o'clock. At 8, breakfast, consisting of six ounces of breed and a pint of good gruel, was served, and after that, in another shed, we picked a pound of oakum, or was kept until 11 or 12 o'clock in default.

The arrangements at this workhouse, altogether, are not very bad. Another rug or two, and the adoption of the new dietary, would make it tolerably comfortable.