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d life is also very hard he says； for those who are not used to it； and there is not enough to eat。 Has had to…day a pen'orth of bread； for minding a cab。 Yesterday he spent 3 1/2d。 on a breakfast； and that lasted him all day。 Age 25。
No。 10。 Been out of work a month。 Carman by trade。 Arm withered； and cannot do work properly。 Has slept here all the week； got an awful cold through the wet。 Lives at odd jobs （they all do）。 Got sixpence yesterday for minding a cab and carrying a couple of parcels。 Earned nothing to…day； but had one good meal； a lady gave it him。 Has been walking about all day looking for work； and is tired out。
No。 11。 Youth； aged 16。 Sad case； Londoner。 Works at odd jobs and matches selling。 Has taken 3d。 to…day； i。e。； net profit 1 1/2d。 Has five boxes still。 Has slept here every night for a month。 Before that slept in Covent Garden Market or on doorsteps。 Been sleeping out six months； since he left Feltham Industrial School。 Was sent there for playing truant。 Has had one bit of bread to…day； yesterday had only some gooseberries and cherries； i。e。； bad ones that had been thrown away。 Mother is alive。 She 〃chucked him out〃 when he returned home on leaving Feltham because he could'nt find her money for drink。
No。 12。 Old man； age 67。 Seems to take rather a humorous view of the position。 Kind of Mark Tapley。 Says he can't say he does like it； but then he must like it！ Ha； ha！ Is a slater by trade。 Been out of work some time； younger men naturally get the work。 Gets a bit of bricklaying sometimes； can turn his hand to anything。 Goes miles and gets nothing。 Earned one and twopence this week at holding horses。 Finds it hard； certainly。 Used to care once； and get down…hearted； but that's no good； don't trouble now。 Had a bit of bread and butter and cup of coffee to…day。 Health is awful bad； not half the size he was； exposure and want of food is the cause； got wet last night； and is very stiff in consequence。 Has been walking about since it was light； that is 3 a。m。 Was so cold and wet and weak； scarcely knew what to do。 Walked to Hyde Park； and got a little sleep there on a dry seat as soon as the park opened。
These are fairly typical cases of the men who are now wandering homeless through the streets。 That is the way in which the nomads of civilization are constantly being recruited from above。
Such are the stories gathered at random one Midsummer night this year under the shade of the plane trees of the Embankment。 A month later； when one of my staff took the census of the sleepers out of doors along the line of the Thames from Blackfriars to Westminster； he found three hundred and sixty…eight persons sleeping in the open air。 Of these； two hundred and seventy were on the Embankment proper； and ninety…eight in and about Covent Garden Market； while the recesses of Waterloo and Blackfriars Bridges were full of human misery。
This； be it remembered； was not during a season of bad trade。 The revival of business has been attested on all hands； notably by the barometer of strong drink。 England is prosperous enough to drink rum in quantities which appall the Chancellor of the Exchequer but she is not prosperous enough to provide other shelter than the midnight sky for these poor outcasts on the Embankment。
To very many even of those who live in London it may be news that there are so many hundreds who sleep out of doors every night。 There are comparatively few people stirring after midnight； and when we are snugly tucked into our own beds we are apt to forget the multitude outside in the rain and the storm who are shivering the long hours through on the hard stone seats in the open or under the arches of the railway。 These homeless； hungry people are； however there； but being broken…spirited folk for the most part they seldom make their voices audible in the ears of their neighbours。 Now and again； however； a harsh cry from the depths is heard for a moment； jarring rudely upon the ear and then all is still。 The inarticulate classes speak as seldom as Balaam's ass。 But they sometimes find a voice。 Here for instance is one such case which impressed me much。 It was reported in one of the Liverpool papers some time back。 The speaker was haranguing a small knot of twenty or thirty men：
〃My lads；〃 he commenced； with one hand in the breast of his ragged vest； and the other； as usual； plucking nervously at his beard； 〃This kind o' work can't last for ever。〃 （Deep and earnest exclamations； 〃It can't！ It shan't〃） 〃Well； boys；〃 continued the speaker； 〃Somebody'll have to find a road out o' this。 What we want is work； not work'us bounty； though the parish has been busy enough amongst us lately； God knows！ What we want is honest work； （Hear； hear。） Now； what I propose is that each of you gets fifty mates to join you； that'll make about 1；200 starving chapsAnd then？〃 asked several very gaunt and hungry…looking men excitedly。 〃Why； then；〃 continued the leader。 〃Why； then；〃 interrupted a cadaverous…looking man from the farther and darkest end of the cellar； 〃of course we'll make aLondon job of it； eh？〃 〃No； no；〃 hastily interposed my friend； and holding up his hands deprecatingly； 〃we'll go peaceably about it chaps； we'll go in a body to the Town Hall； and show our poverty； and ask for work。 We'll take the women and children with us too。〃 （〃Too ragged！ Too starved！ They can't walk it！〃） 〃The women's rags is no disgrace； the staggerin' children 'll show what we come to。 Let's go a thousand strong； and ask for work and bread！〃
Three years ago； in London； there were some such processions。 Church parades to the Abbey and St。 Paul's； bivouacs in Trafalgar Square； etc。 But Lazarus showed his rags and his sores too conspicuously for the convenience of Dives； and was summarily dealt with in the name of law and order。 But as we have Lord Mayor's Days； when all the well…fed fur…clad City Fathers go in State Coaches through the town； why should we not have a Lazarus Day； in which the starving Out…of…Works； and the sweated half…starved 〃in…works〃 of London should crawl in their tattered raggedness； with their gaunt； hungry faces； and emaciated Wives and children； a Procession of Despair through the main thoroughfares past the massive houses and princely palaces of luxurious London？
For these men are gradually； but surely； being sucked down into the quicksand of modern life。 They stretch out their grimy hands to us in vain appeal； not for charity； but for work。
Work； work！ it is always work that they ask。 The Divine curse is to them the most blessed of benedictions。 〃In the sweat of thy brow thou shalt eat thy bread；〃 but alas for these forlorn sons of Adam； they fail to find the bread to eat； for Society has no work for them to do。 They have not even leave to sweat。 As well as discussing how these poor wanderers should in the second Adam 〃all be made alive；〃 ought we not to put forth some effort to effect their restoration to that share in the heritage of lab our which is theirs by right of descent from the first Adam？
CHAPTER 4。 THE OUT…OF…WORKS
There is hardly any more pathetic figure than that of the strong able worker crying plaintively in the midst of our palaces and churches not for charity； but for work； asking only to be allowed the privilege of perpetual hard labour； that thereby he may earn wherewith to fill his empty belly and silence the cry of his children for food。 Crying for it and not getting it； seeking for labour as lost treasure and finding it not； until at last； all spirit and vigour worn out in the weary quest； the once willing worker becomes a broken…down drudge； sodden with wretchedness and despairing of all help in this world or in that which is to come。 Our organisation of industry certainly leaves much to be desired。 A problem which even slave owners have solved ought not to be abandoned as insoluble by the Christian civilisation of the Nineteenth Century。
I have already given a few life stories taken down from the lip： of those who were found homeless on the Embankment which suggest somewhat of the hardships and the misery of the fruitless search for work。 But what a volume of dull； squalid horrora horror of great darkness gradually obscuring all the light of day from the life of the sufferer might be written from the simple prosaic experiences of the ragged fellows whom you meet every day in the street。 These men； whose labour is their only capital； are allowed； nay compelled to waste day after day by the want of any means of employment； and then when they have seen days and weeks roll by during which their capital has been wasted by pounds and pounds； they are lectured for not saving the pence。 When a rich man cannot employ his capital he puts it out at interest； but the bank for the labour capital of the poor man has yet to be invented。 Yet it might be worth while inventing one。 A man's labour is not only his capital but his life。 When it passes it returns never more。 To utilise it； to prevent its wasteful squandering； to enable the poor man to bank it up for use hereafter； this surely is one of the most urgent tasks before civilisation。
Of all heart…breaking toil the hunt for work is surely the worst。 Yet at any mom