A NIGHT IN A SALVATION ARMY SHELTER.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 9565, 22 October 1892, Page 3

A NIGHT IN A SALVATION ARMY SHELTER.

A correspondent of the Daily Telegraph who ha 3 passed a night in a Salvation Army shelter in Whitechape! gives a shocking account of his experiences. " AVBITBIt TIIAN SNOW." A notice, painted in bright colours and bigfaced letters, advertised that you could have a comfortable shelter for 2d. The mousy is taken by s, man in a small recess to the left of the passage. In return for it he bands you a metal disc. This you give up to a man stationed at the fors of a staircase. You notice that the -walls, ceiling, and floor of the corridor are clean and brightly and tastefully picked out with colour. The staircase mounted, you gain admission to the first floor of the shelter. The sight is a startling one. You catch sight of low-pitched rafters with lines of pillars supporting them. There are gaudily illuminated text-scrolls on the walls, rendered moi-a vivid because of the dark background qf mural colouring. One inscription presents itself more boldly than others, " I have been washed and made -whiter than snow." You will think of this text more than ouce during the night. COFFIN BEDS. The scene below you next invites and demands attention. You are standing on a platform ; on your right are layers upon layers of folded skins. Bach lodger iakes one; you mechanically do the same. Immediately benes.th you, far away to the front, and deep to your left aud right, ranged in regular lines, are some 150 coffin-shaped boxes, touch to touch one with the other and with the floor. The picture develops into a grim, ghastly, and gruesome sight. Quite half of ths coffins, wilb. their dull dark strips of American leather, gape for tenants; of the remainder, many hoM masses of humanity, distinguishable by a head, leg, or bust of the occupant that have emancipated themselves from the species of cobbler's apron by which warmth and decency are supposed to be ensured. Others await their occupp.uts, some of -whom are sitting and sorae standing in the shells. Many arc already stark naked, others are fast becoming so. The clothes removed are shaken vigorously, more often over a neighbour's coffin than that occupied by their owner. They are then folded, the pillow of the American cloth mattress is raised, and underneath the wooden pillow, in the slit, are placed ths clothes. Naked forms glide, tramp, and stumble across the roam, picking their way more or less gently through the intersection of coffins. There may be lavatories below, but for the use made of them to-night they might as well be on the farm colony in Essex. TURNING IN. Having selected a bed, the correspondent proceeds:—Now, to inspect the "mattress"— quite glossy, but awfully sticky; you shudder to think of the perspiring form it has had to bear. Mufiler, cost, and waistcoat off. Good. Now shoes aud socks. Store them away in the slit under the pillow. Now for the cobbler's aprop. Pugh! not quite so near the nostrils. Ko\v give a leois round. The man in front of you is stepping up vtutilation in his trousers. Another behind him is putting his supper oufcof sight; his clothes have preceded. Another, in the row of coffins on the raised platform near the wall, is endeavouring to suspend his freshly washed shirt on the gas piping. The coffin on the right is let, and so is the one on the left. Two " pals" evidently occupy them. They carry on a conversation to which 'you are a forced listener. They settle down, sleep comes quickly or sluggishly, and you are within 2ft of the heavy breathing faces. Twist and turn as you like the ccuch is hard. The atmosphere is very thick, the heat is oppressive, the air is almost fetid. Your head aches and throns. Recline you cannot, for there seems to be a foul current of air coming from the shallow shells. "A USSUHHECTiON SCENE OF AWFUL fiKUESCOIENESS." The long weary hours pass by. Not a coffin is without its tenant. Quiet there is none. Conversation—now loud, now low, lewd, and offensive—is carried on around you. Of the ;150 who occupy the 150 coffins en this floor snany are suirtriug from ailments which leave neither,the ailing nor those near them in peace. Above you there are still another ,100 lodgers, scoess to whom is gained by an pue.l) sUiK-ase t>o an open ropra. You do c, . " -