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more able to bring its labours and investigations to a practical result. The constant repetition, which could not be avoided in a periodical which dealt only with one subject, it was feared, would become wearisome and monotonous, and the Workhouse Infirmaries Commission would then, it was hoped and expected, work out the problems and solve the difficulties. Another ally came into the field in the year 1864, which took up most influentially the chief work aimed at by the society, viz. that of introducing visitors into workhouses. The late lamented Mrs. Tait, wife of the Archbishop, had ever been foremost in her kind support of the cause, and also in her own personal labours as a visitor, both at Fulham, St. James's, and Lambeth (attending frequently the committee meetings at that workhouse). When, therefore, the association of ladies for all kinds of work in the diocese was organized by the Archbishop (then Bishop of London) and Mrs. Tait, this branch of work

house visiting naturally claimed a prominent place, and under such powerful influence admission was gained into nearly all the workhouses of the metropolis. This work is still continued. by the members of the association, under the Bishop of London and Miss Jackson.

We believe that at the present time there is no Board of Guardians and no chaplain who would refuse admission to the lady visitors thus introduced. The "Chinese wall of prejudice" has so far been levelled during the twenty-five years since the first breach was attempted by the solitary and individual pioneers who began the work.

EXTRACTS FROM MY DIARY.

APPENDIX I.

My first visit to a workhouse was on February 1, 1853, when I went to the Strand Union, in Cleveland Street, to see old Mrs. S➖➖➖, who was obliged to give up her home and go in. I had obtained an order from the Chairman of the Board of Guardians, and the master and matron readily admitted us, and agreed to show us over the house. They were kind-hearted, old-fashioned people, and had charge of the St. Clement Danes Workhouse for many years, when it was on the present site of King's College Hospital. In visiting poor people in a district, I had often heard of some who were going in. One poor old lonely woman, in whom I felt much interest, was obliged at last to break up her home and depart. I often reproached myself with not going to see her, when I heard, in about six weeks after, that she had gone quite out of her mind and died. But in those days I fancied the workhouse was an inaccessible fortress, which could only be entered through great difficulties and dangers. At last one most respectable and good old woman, who had supported herself by doing the best kind of flannel-work for the best shops, after struggling on month after month,

was forced to give up, and her only comfort in going seemed to be the hope of seeing an old friend. ` I promised to visit her. Though she was near eighty when she went in, she yet lived some years, and was the chief object of my visits to the workhouse during that time. Her suffer. ings were great, and they were greatly aggravated by the treatment of the nurses. At the first visit I found a courteous reception. The kind master and matron asked me to go again to read to a poor sick woman to whom I had spoken. This was an opening which I gladly availed myself of, and as we were well known in the parish to which the workhouse belonged, and to the Chairman of the Board, no difficulty was in the way of my going into any ward as often as I could find time. At the very first visit, I was forcibly struck by what has been my conviction ever since: the great want which is the evil of workhouses-efficient supervision. The sight of numbers of young women, many of them with babies in their arms, left wholly alone, and with no other control than that of pauper women, appeared to me a most hopelessand unfortunate state of things.

Shortly before this visit I had read a pamphlet upon workhouses, published by Rivington, which confirmed many ideas I had previously had about them. From all I had heard from the poor, I felt sure they were not managed as they might be and ought to be.

I talked to one or two of the women in the sick ward. One spoke of having been a great sinner, but appeared to be very repentant. I offered to go again to read to her, and my proposal was willingly agreed to by the matron, who said "she would be glad if I would visit her." I determined to act upon this permission, and I continued

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to do so till her death; and afterwards I went on visiting Mrs. S- and made other acquaintances. In the course of that spring I paid thirteen visits to the Strand Union. I thought the benefit might be extended by having other ladies allowed to visit; and as I knew the chairman, I applied to him on the subject, personally and by letter. I paid him several visits in Clare Court, and he seemed favourable to the plan, though he could do nothing of himself.

He appeared to be chiefly impressed with the conviction of the hopeless character of the younger women. An application to the guardians brought an answer that unpaid and voluntary efforts were not sanctioned by the Poor Law Board, and the offer was declined. So the matter ended for the time. The master and matron would have aided me, and thought that much might be done. The chaplain seemed a very inefficient person, and I never saw him.

1854. As the difficulty seemed to rest with the Poor Law Board, and I could get no satisfactory answer from them, I determined to ask for an interview. The Hon. Matthew Talbot Baines was then President, and I was told he was a very good and benevolent man. April 8th was the day fixed for the interview. I went to Whitehall, expecting to find the "Board" to consist of a large number of gentlemen seated round a long table, and I had great fears and tremblings about it; I was quite haunted by the thoughts of it for many days beforehand, and I longed to get it over. I suppose I looked as if I was going to something formidable, for the porter or attendant who showed me in said, as we went up the stairs, "You need not be afraid, ma'am ; you will find them

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