Julia Varley — Life in the Casual Ward

After turning my back on Manchester's casual ward, in company with the charwoman I had met, I made my way to friends who lived in one of the suburbs. We were both so sore and stiff with sleeping on the planks that it was difficult to get on at all, and we had often to rest. Arriving at one of the parks, we went in to rest, she improving the time by removing the traces of the casual ward by putting on a clean rough apron that she had carried in a parcel, smoothing her hair, and making herself fairly decent. She had a charing place to go to that morning, and so was sure of lodging for a few nights. She did what no other had — offered to help me. She said if I did not find my friends, and met her at the gates that evening she would give me sixpence of her money to help me on my way. I felt touched and thanked her, and we parted. I was glad that I had found one unselfish soul among my companions of the casual ward. This woman was the first worker that I had yet met, and I had journeyed many miles. I found my friends, and had a good breakfast, which I greatly relished, for it was very much more palatable than the fare provided in the wards. After a long rest I prepared for my next house of call. I was very tired and footsore in spite of the rest, and was persuaded to do what I had never done since I left Bradford — seek the aid of the train to carry me to the next ward. I took train to Warrington, seventeen miles distant, and called at an address that had been given me. The people received me gladly, made me a cup of tea, and then put me on my way to the casual ward. I was put through the usual process by an old man in the lodge, who handed me some bread and sent me on the yard. Here an old woman took charge of me, and gave me a basin of gruel. This was the most palatable of any that I had received yet, being good and slightly sweet. The bread was good, too. I was then sent into the bath room, and on to the bedroom. For the first time I came across a bed on a bedstead. This was of straw, with three rugs covering. It felt comfortable to my tired bones, and I was quickly settled. The only other occupant sat up in bed, and the usual questions were exchanged. She was a middle-aged woman, whose husband, who was a gardener, was in also.

THEY WERE NOT PROFESSIONAL ROADSTERS,

and had only commenced a fortnight ago. She was a farmer's daughter, and had lived all her life, until her marriage, a few miles out of York. She removed with her husband to another district of Yorkshire; her husband's master left the neighbourhood, and it was impossible for him to obtain work, and gradually they exhausted their small savings and had to break up their home. When I met them they were trying to get some haymaking to help them until the husband could obtain regular employment. Her husband was proud, she said, and the only food that he had taken was the dry bread that they had brought out of the casual wards, and she was very grateful for my share. which she put on one side to take out with her. Presently she fell asleep, and I was alone to think. I looked at her cheerful face as she lay there, and wondered whether it would not be possible to make a difference in the treatment of genuine poor like this couple and the regular wanderers on the road.

In the morning, when we had dressed, our breakfast was brought. It consisted of a pint of good tea, and a slice of dry bread. I drank the tea, and gave my companion the bread. We had to fold our rugs and sweep up the room, and then we were told we might go. The men had gruel, but, we were the only two women in, and I think this was why we were given tea. The woman's husband was outside when we were discharged, and they had more luggage than tramps usually have. He had a parcel strapped on his back, and she carried a carpet bag. Once more the parting of the ways. I had a copper and some tea and sugar, which I pressed them to accept, and they went on in search of work, which I fancy would be rather hard to get, as the man looked so old, though he was only fifty. I wondered if they would succeed in getting their

HOUSEHOLD GOODS TOGETHER AGAIN,

or if they would end their lives in the workhouse. The next casual ward was nine miles distant, and, after calling on my friends, I started out.. It was the loveliest walk I ever had, over country roads and through tiny villages, where roses covered the cottages, and flowers grew to the very doorsteps. I passed a churchyard, where the setting sun touched the tombstones, as with living gold, and I entered to rest. The evening air drew out all the concentrated perfumes of flowers and trees, and the subdued hum of country sounds fell on my senses, until I felt something of the fascination that a tramp's life must have for many of the regular visitors to the casual wards. At last I pulled myself together, and took a parting look, and then moved on.

"CASUALS" ON THE ROAD.

I heard two men in front enquire the way to Prescot, and so I kept them in sight until I reached the workhouse gates. I entered, and answered the usual questions that were put to me in a very sharp voice by a man who seemed to be an inmate. This over once more, I went to the bath-room, where a woman inmate presided. She was very kind, and after I had undressed left me to bath alone. I was shown into a cell, and given two thick "carpetty" rugs and a straw pillow, with a sheet of felt. I was told could arrange them as I pleased. The

BEDSTEAD WAS A WOODEN SHELF

about three feet from the floor. I spread out the felt, and covered myself with the rugs, which were rather heavy than warm. The supper consisted of a pint of tea and a "lump" of bread. The latter was the best I had had, and I ate a little and thank the tea. The window of the cell was open, and evidently looked into the street, and the shouting of men and boys, with the yelping of dogs. prevented one getting to sleep, even if the board had been softer than usual. I was roused at six, and had to proceed to the bathroom to dress, and found five women there, and a sorry collection we were. Four of them were "pals," and their language was fearful. There was a quarrel in progress about a piece of bacon that one of them had left in a lodging-house when she went to gaol a month before. One of the others had bought it for three half-pence from someone who had "pinched" it, and the situation was critical, when the door opened, breakfast appeared, and peace was restored for the time at least. Another of the women had been in a street row in one of the slums, and had her head and arm bandaged, and a fearful mark on her face showed that she had been kicked. She vowed vengeance on her assailant, who had tramped to the next place, and there will be "life" when they meet. All of them had been in gaol, which, they said, was

BETTER THAN THE CASUAL WARD.

Two of them were without stockings, and one had on a pair of odd dress shoes, tied on with a white cotton bandage. I had heard a lot about the way the clothes of casuals are destroyed The women always excuse their rags on the plea that stoving rots, and when I got my bundle I was alarmed to find that the front of my skirt was one mass of holes, a big piece hung loose, banner-fashion, so now I was on a par with the raggiest of them. When I left home the skirt, though shabby, was whole, and one that would have stood months of hard wear in a mill, being a stout cloth one. I borrowed a needle and thread, and tucked the holes up as best I could. I was glad when the portress appeared. She seemed very kind and considerate. She asked me if I had tidied my cell, and on receiving an affirmative reply she asked I had ever been there before, and I was surprised to find that I could go. I donned my hat and jacket and quickly left the room. As I was leaving I heard her rating the two who had been quarrelling, and who had applied for admission after midnight in a fearful state. She seemed to be finding them something to do. This would vex them, as the "bacon woman" was burning to have her revenge, and anxious to get to Manchester. It was only six o'clock and a beautiful morning, and that mysterious gladness at being at liberty filled my heart as I set my face towards Liverpool — the last stage of my journey.