Part 2 — AN APPEAL FOR AN OLD FRIEND.

By ANNE BEALE.

ive years ago the first appeal for the Princess Louise Home was inserted in The Girl’s Own Paper. It appeared in the weekly number dated February 25, 1882. The response to it was hearty and immediate, and from all parts of the habitable globe arrived contributions in money and goods towards a bazaar for the benefit of this “National Society for the Protection of Young Girls.” The bazaar was held in May, but the account of it was given in the number for July 22, 1882.

Every subscriber likes to know what becomes of his or her donations; therefore we purpose to look into results by paying another visit to our old friends at Woodhouse, Wanstead, before terrifying our readers by announcing another fancy fair.

“Old friends” is almost a misnomer, for new faces greet us everywhere as we enter the precincts of the grounds and ancient abode. Mrs. Talbot, the esteemed matron, has resigned, and Mrs. Macdonald reigns in her stead. Miss Tidd, the originator and untiring secretary of the bazaar, is happily married. So is the schoolmistress, who, it will be remembered, was also a pupil trained at the Home. The monatresses of to-day are the scholars of five years ago, and our own particular girls have diminished in number. Thanks to the bazaar and collateral causes, we have been privileged to gain admission for nearly a dozen, of whom the greater number are in service and doing well, and when we make urgent demands for our girls, four only respond to them; but they have not forgotten us. We find two in the kitchen and two in the laundry, and hear that a couple of these are going to service after Christmas. They all look rosy and happy, in spite of the fumes that surround them; for the young cooks are bending over two gigantic saucepans, whence issues a very savoury odour, and the juvenile laundresses are enveloped in the less appetising exhalations from damp linen; for this is folding, drying, and mangling day, and one of our particular girls is turning the mangle. This large and commodious laundry has been erected, opened, and utilised since our last visit to Woodhouse. There are different compartments for sorting, washing, drying, ironing, mangling, packing, and delivering, which all communicate with one another. We live and learn; for we had scarcely realised before all the processes of laundry work. And this is all done by manual toil; for there is no steam. Seven of the elder girls are at present in training under a special experienced matron and laundry-maid, and as customers increase, more will be drafted off to this particular work, and open the other parts of the establishment to an increased number of inmates. As laundries almost invariably pay, it is confidently hoped that the income of the Home will be greatly increased by this agency, and both friends and strangers are “cordially invited,” as the phrase now is, to try it. The tariff of charges is the ordinary one laid down in London and the neighbourhood, and arrangements have been made with those ubiquitous carriers, Carter and Paterson, to fetch and return boxes and hampers of linen from and to any part of this vast metropolis free of charge; and customers may count on being supplied with the said boxes and hampers gratis and securely padlocked. What could they want more? “Good washing and ironing,” is the reply; and we trust these will follow the demand. Over a thousand articles have to be washed weekly for the inmates of the Home alone; so under all circumstances the hand is kept in.

Our laundresses boast of a separate establishment, which they have called Primrose Cottage, probably after the Primrose League, of which they have heard. This is a long room with a long green-baize-covered table, communicating with the laundry. A short time ago it was a sort of outhouse; now it is a sitting and dining-room, adorned with texts. If funds only came in, many other tumble-down and ill-paved portions of this country seat might be vastly amended. But neither Rome nor Woodhouse was built or repaired in a day. Soon, however, we hope to see a splendid drying-ground replace the present one, for the asphalted roof of the laundries offers every facility for it. If we may be permitted to make a personal remark, we would venture to say that a rosier, healthier set of laundry-girls could nowhere be seen, and the roses extend from face to arms. As we descend from Primrose Cottage to the laundry, we are arrested by a remark made by the secretary, as he points upwards to an iron girder—

“This was a great encouragement to me. This iron came from Providence, and bears that name. I took it as a good sign, and worked on in faith,” he says.

Assuredly there is the word “Providence” stamped on the iron, and we will not pause to inquire whence its origin, but hasten onwards to see what the Divine Providence is doing for His rescued children, and what He requires us to do.

Most of them are in the playground, and their ringing voices and laughter sound mirthful, and convey no impression of the depraved homes from which they have been taken. About a dozen of them, however, are gathered round a fire in what is called their playroom, which might be better paved and appointed, if only those—we dare not mention funds again in this place, seeing we are about to make an appeal vigorous enough to melt hearts harder than these very rough stones on which the children play. A bundle of picture text cards attracts the whole school into the playroom, and we are soon surrounded by about fifty girls of ages varying from eleven to fifteen and over, all thankful for very small mercies. We are thus enabled to declare them very well-mannered; for instead of pressing forward to seize on the coveted card, they stand back, each urging a companion to the front. Slight touches indicate character and training, and this reticence speaks for itself. In spite of many difficulties inseparable from the education of girls mostly born and bred in a doubtful atmosphere, it is possible to cultivate a certain delicacy and refinement amongst them.

“I am sorry to be obliged to leave you; but I am going to take this girl to her place,” interrupts the matron, as a respectable-looking, neatly-dressed maiden appears amongst her schoolfellows to bid them good-bye.

She has passed her term of years in the Home, and is about to make her start in life. A good outfit and a respectable place have been provided for her somewhere in Kent, and the kind matron will not lose sight of her until she places her in the care of her new mistress. Indeed, the girls are never lost sight of, as their touching letters and frequent returns home prove, as well as the communications made to the matron on each change of place.

“If you keep your situation and have a good character for one clear year, the committee will give you a guinea as a reward, together with a new dress,” says the secretary, encouragingly.

How little we realise the feelings of the young servant as she leaves the best home she has known for a stranger one, and hurries off to the train about to whirl her away into a new world! When we inquire her previous history, we are told that she was “surrounded by immoral influences, and rescued just in time.”

Let us hope that her mistress will be able to write of her as many mistresses have written this year of girls sent to service before her—in terms of high commendation. Here are one or two extracts:—“Mary has been in my service for three years, and I have much pleasure in testifying to her continued good behaviour. She works hard, is very trustworthy, and I should be very sorry to part with her.” “Ellen is a very good girl, and during the two years she has been with me has given me great satisfaction. I hope she may remain with me many years,” etc.

When we consider what may have been the fate of these young people had not friends of the Home intervened, we are thankful for what our readers have done to help them. We are attracted by one who sits rather apart, and is bigger than the others. She was rescued from a life of such awful terrorism that even now, when reproved, she hides under the beds, creeping from one to another like a wild animal. She has, it is said, lost half her wits from fear; but it is hoped that kindness may recall them from their “wool-gathering.” She seems less perplexed than she was.

We should like to linger, and learn the story of all the girls; but we are summoned from the outworks to the keep, where lessons and housework alternate, just as they did when last we were here. As to the dormitories, they are literally ablaze with colour, for a generous, anonymous donor has sent seventy scarlet woollen coverlets, and each bed boasts of one. But there are at present only sixty-one inmates, and, accordingly, nine of the said coverlets are set aside. We are anxious to fill the home, which will hold one hundred. Therefore that last resource, a bazaar, is still in contemplation. Adverse circumstances prevented its taking place in 1886, the jubilee year of the Institution; so we hope that 1887, the jubilee year of our well-beloved Queen, may see it consummated. Will the readers of The Girl’s Own Paper continue their kind efforts, and send us work or money, as seems to them best? Some eight hundred pounds resulted from the last bazaar, which was mainly attributable to the start they gave it; and already numerous contributions have been received, the work of their willing fingers. Five years ago the office of the Princess Louise Home was crowded with packages containing their gifts. May it be so again, and may the writer once more be privileged to record them, and may another round dozen or more of girls be safely housed, taught, and placed in service, as the result of their labours.

Several distinguished and influential ladies have already promised their aid in various ways, and we are stirring ourselves up to hope for “a great success.” H. R. H. the Princess Louise will open the bazaar, life and health being granted to her. We will pray that they may be extended and lengthened, and that she may see the Home that bears her name full to overflowing.

We are thankful that our readers have such good memories, and that they have not forgotten this, their first love, while contracting an attachment for another, equally worthy. Happily the philanthropic heart is large, and its hand ever open.

We have been so long the historian of the Home that we find nothing new to say about it, therefore we will wind up by a visit to the secretary’s private abode, in order to see one of the girls, now in his service, who was a Woodhouse bird when last we looked into the nest. A drive across Wanstead Flats, through a portion of the Forest, and past the picturesque village, brings us to his hospitable domicile. Hence he walks almost daily to oversee the Home, so that he, at least, is not idle, since he must also supervise monetary matters in London diurnally. We congratulate him on having such a quiet halting-ground midway.

It would be out of place to describe it, or the excellent luncheon of which we partook, but it is quite allowable to say that the neatly dressed, rosy-faced parlour-maid waits uncommonly well, and that she is a good specimen of Woodhouse training. We are gratified by her recognising us, and if all the readers of The Girl’s Own Paper could have seen her bright smile of welcome and respectable appearance, they would have rejoiced with us. But she is only one of the many who have been aided. During the fifty years of the existence of the Institution, nearly three thousand have been rescued from danger of one kind and another, fifteen hundred of whom have been received since it has been known as “The Princess Louise Home.” Forty-three of these were admitted only last year. Close upon eleven hundred have become domestic servants, and who can calculate the inestimable good done to them and society by rescuing them from indescribable evils?

As we stood upon the platform of the Snaresbrook Station awaiting the train, we moralised on this. Sunset with its heavenly glow overspread Epping Forest and Wanstead-park, beyond which lies the Home. We reflect on the Divine love which has inspired in the human heart the desire to devote all we see around us to the overworked citizens of the largest city in the world; and to open to some of her tempted children the gates of the rescue house in the distance. We recognize in the evening glow that God’s love never fails. We will strive to obey His command, which says “Let brotherly love continue.”

We perceive both degrees of love in the subjoined list, and feel assured that Christ’s little ones will be still held in tender remembrance.

In addition to the seventy coverlets already mentioned, we are requested to state that 224 valuable articles have been received at the Home from a lady who desires her name not to be announced. These vary from scarlet blankets to children’s hose.

Lady Greenall and Mrs. Edward Lloyd have also sent magnificent gifts of clothing, made and unmade; and “The Hampton Court Association of Ladies for the Care of Friendless Girls” has likewise contributed a valuable parcel of clothing, through the Dowager Lady Clifford.

In money, three guineas from Lady Martin and ten shillings from C. W. B. D. have been received.

Contributions sent to the Secretary, Mr. Gillham, at 32, Sackville-street, W., will be immediately acknowledged by him, and subsequently in this Magazine.