Page:The Coffee Publichouse.djvu/15

 Almost all the unmarried men and some of the married ones (away from their wives to be near their work) in these infirmaries tell the same story:—

'I live in a miserable lodging where I am not wanted, and may not poke the fire [the definition of a comfortable lodging is to be allowed to poke the fire] or even sit by the fire. I have nowhere to go to but the publichouse, nowhere to sit down, often nowhere to take my meals. We young men lodgers often sleep in one room, with two or even three generations of the same family, including young women and girls, unless, indeed, we can get into the model lodging-houses. Coffeehouses might save us, model lodging-houses might make model men of us; nothing else would. As it is, here we are, and here we shall be, in and out of this same sick ward, "every man jack of us," till the last time, when we come to die in it.'

This is the story told, with every shade of feeling, from tears to desperation or callousness, sometimes mixed up with a pitiful love story, sometimes with a theft story, or worse, of thousands.

Yet these men are so far from 'all bad,' that if the nurse of the ward is a 'trained' nurse, which implies a character and education, to carry some weight and influence, they will scrupulously respect their nurse's property, and even her feelings, and will send her word if they have 'kept straight'—how seldom!—or when they have got work.

The children of these men are as much born to the same lot as the children of English are born to be English.

The excellent medical officer of a workhouse infirmary which we nursed used to say to all such patients, 'Now, my good fellow, do drink coffee for the rest of your life.'

Where are they to get it?

Thousands and tens of thousands will, I am sure, bless the Coffeehouse Association, especially if it could be made to include lodgings. What these men want is a place where they can have coffee, read the newspapers, and play games (without temptations to gambling); also a place where they can eat, and have decent sleeping accommodation.

Have you seen 'Our Coffee Room,' two vols., by Miss Cotton, now Lady Hope?

I must not even ask forgiveness for this long letter, filled with hope at your making this subject your own, yet ashamed of taking up your time, and of asking your Grace to forward this little