I then explained to them the German system of Relief Stations and Workmen's Homes. They were much interested and thought it excellent. They gave appreciative particulars of experiments in this direction in Manchester, and of an "ex-convict" who "knowed what a chap's feelings were," who had during the last winter opened a large room every night and let in as many men as it would hold, and let them stay till morning. I had not heard of this before. They said hundreds were turned away from the Church Army Shelter, where they could chop wood for bed and board.
I then introduced the subject of Colonies to set a man on his feet. Opinion seemed in favour, but not enthusiastic. Thanking them for their frankness, we left them after singing "Abide with me," the tramp's favourite hymn, and went upstairs.
We spent an hour over a lively discussion which would have done credit to any debating society. I read the letter as before, and it was received with admiration. "That chap's a champion writer." They told me about one part of London that was "sleeping-out" quarters; one park went by the significant name of "The Lousy Park." I wondered if its frequenters by day knew this. I asked them why a man preferred to sleep out to going to the tramp ward. A man got up and stood in the middle of the room and waxed indignant. Food and detention, as below, came in for scorn. "The Local Government Board will give you 2_s_. 6_d_. for breaking 10 cwt. of stone, and _they_ gives you 15 cwt. and prison if you don't do your task." "A man comes in who has walked fifteen miles, and they give him bare boards to sleep on," broke in another. "How is a fellow to get work when he's let out at eleven, I should like to know; he can only tramp to another workhouse." "There was a councillor once," broke in another, "he met a chap in the road, and he says, 'Young man, change clothes with me. I've got plenty of good clothes at home,' then he changes clothes and goes in the tramp ward; he's quite upset by what he sees, and when he's coming out he says, 'You can have my share, I'm going to have a good breakfast.'" "Yes," said another, "that was Councillor S---- of S----, and he did _give_ it to the guardians." "What about prison fare?" I said. "Prison is better; you get good soup, better food all round."[147] "And what about the work?" I said. "They don't make you work harder than you're able. Hard work may be oakum picking." "The worst of prison is the being kept in," broke in another. "You can do with a week, but a fortnight is too much of it." Then it suddenly seemed to occur to them that they had been "giving themselves away." "We're a nice lot," he said, "prison and workhouse, but I've been in prison more than once; I'm not ashamed to own it." Wishing to "save their face," as the Chinese say, I suggested that it was not hard for a man who was down to get into prison. "That's true for you," he replied. "I got a month once for sleeping out.[148] I was going to N----, where they keep a week at May day" [He is a cripple who gets his living by singing] "and I went the night before. The workhouse was full and the lodging-houses were full, so we had to sleep out. We goes to a heath that was common ground, but there was a bit of private ground near it, and we gets among the bushes. A bobby comes round. 'You might let us stop,' I says; 'we can't get in.' 'Keep where you are and don't let any other police see you,' he says. In about five minutes he comes back; 'Come along of me,' he says, and locks us up. I gets a month for that, 'trespassing and sleeping out.'" I remarked that in court the prisoner's side was often not properly heard. "Yes," he said, waxing indignant. "When they says, 'Any questions to ask the officer?' I says, 'Didn't you tell me to stay where I was and not let the officers see me?' 'No, I did not,' he says. 'Very well,' I said, but I knowed what he had been after--he had been down to the police-station and told on us, and the superintendent had told him to lock us up." We all agreed it was a mean trick. "They'll kiss the book and swear themselves red in the face," said another. "I've seen 'em, they know they're not telling truth, but it's 'We must believe an officer,' and if you say a word it's 'Wow, wow, wow'"--and with a significant gesture he showed how the magistrates put down a man who attempted self-defence, and all the room laughed in sympathy. "Perhaps you've had a drop of drink," he said, "but you're walking steady; an officer puts his hand on your shoulder and gives you a shove, if you say anything he has you, 'Drunk and disorderly!' A magistrate once saw an officer take a man who was quite quiet, and he followed him. The man got let off."