t by the mothers'
meetings and other clerical agencies. There is, however, below the
shop girls, the dressmakers, the servants, and the working girls whom
the world, so to speak, knows, a very large class of women whom the
world does not know, and is not anxious to know. They are the factory
hands of London; you can see them, if you wish, trooping out of the
factories and places where they work on any Saturday afternoon, and
thus get them, so to speak, in the lump. Their amusement seems to
consist of nothing but walking about the streets, two and three
abreast, and they laugh and shout as they go so noisily that they must
needs be extraordinarily happy. These girls are, I am told, for the
most part so ignorant and helpless, that many of them do not know even
how to use a needle; they cannot read, or, if they can, they never do;
they carry the virtue of independence as far as they are able, and
insist on living by themselves, two sharing a single room; nor will
they brook the least interference with their freedom, even from those
who try to help them. Who are their friends, what becomes of them in
the end, why they all seem to be about eighteen years of age, at what
period of life they begin to get tired of walking up and down the
streets, who their sweethearts are, what are their thoughts, what are
their hopes--these are questions which no man can answer, because no
man could make them communicate their experiences and opinions.
Perhaps only a Bible-woman or two know the history, and could tell it,
of the London factory girl. Their pay is said to be wretched, whatever
work they do; their food, I am told, is insufficient for young and
hearty girls, consisting generally of tea and bread or
bread-and-butter for breakfast and supper, and for dinner a lump of
fried fish and a piece of bread. What can be done? The proprietors of
the factory will give no better wage, the girls cannot combine, and
there is no one to help them. One would not willingly add another to
the 'rights' of man or woman; but surely, if there is such a thing at
all as a 'right,' it is that a day's labour shall earn enough to pay
for sufficient food, for shelter, and for clothes. As for the
amusements of these girls, it is a thing which may be considered when
something has been done for their material condition. The possibility
of amusement only begins when we have reached the level of the well
fed. Great Gaster will let no one enjoy play who is hungry. Wou