THE HARVEST OF THE LONDON POOR.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7434, 21 June 1902, Page 3

THE HARVEST OF THE LONDON POOR.

The Purchasers of " Fpo4 Rs-ma-SLaMS.'' A (By BESSIE HATTON, in "Chambers' JournaL") What I call " the Harvest of the Poor " is an institution carried bn by many great food-providers in the various districts of London. Every night, what are called "food remainders" are sold; fishmongers -who make it a rule never to keep Certain classes of fish over night ; butchers, more . /particularly pork-butchers, who sell porkxinds,; trimmings and scraps; confection- . ers, who clear out buns and stale pastry; while some restaurateurs begin the early morning wi^ these clearances. The average price asked by the porkbatcher ior a quantity of scraps is twopence. Among these 'scraps . there are oc-casions-pieces of sausage and rinds of tongue ; all of. which, if decently and intelligently treated, will furnish many a tasty dish. Given to any peasant woman in 7ranoe,i die would, with the addition of a little garlic and vegetable, concoct a stew or soup that would satisfy a gourmet. But, alas, if we ever possessed culinary genius in England, we have lost it. As a rale, our. cooking is a disgrace. An ordinary YpQ]i*h household rarely gets beyond boiled mutton, a cabbage, an apple-dumpling ; whUe a French' bonne will dine well off what our British general servant throws •way. WHAT THE HABVEST IS. - At our London harvest of the poor,' a poulterer's odds and ; ends are more highly prued than either tbe fishmonger's or the pprk-butoher'fl ; they consist mainly of giblets, and lourpence will purchase enough to provide one or two families with soup. ..-'.;■* Fishmongers sell for twopence what are termed trimmings, among* which are bits of cod and other large fish, end in the herring season some of this poor man's fish. Sammcc- being a difficult time for, fishmongers to keep their goods, the harvesters get a better variety than during the winter ; but there' are always scraps to be bought for atews and soups. However, "first come, first served," is a law that holds good with both buyers and sellers, end those who arrive late at the sale are often obliged to return with empty bags to' their expectant friends. If all our poor women fought poverty as some women do —making it a rule to have a .clean room end as good cooking as circumstances wdl allow— there would be fewer drunken husbands. /■' Tbe cost of fuel is, of course, a most serious matter for the poor; in this requisite there is no " harvest " for them. They axe obliged to spend their money in the dearest market, paying double the price charged to the rich, because they can only bay cool in meagre quantities. Outside these ' Supplies of cheap food to tbe poorest, London- has jnany charities ; but I am dealing with tfife poor who are TOO SELS-BESEECTING TO BIEG. Being anxious to ascertain what difference there might be between 'the little, gleaners of the We&V End and those' of an artistio neighbourhood, I visited a wellknown confectioner's, situated itf a region ot stadias, near' tbe north-west district of London. It was a handsome shop, its windows -filled - with dressed tongues, croquets of veal-and-ham, many varieties of oakss and biscuits, boxes of sweets, and flat .tina of caramels newly cooked. The children waited in a small yard adjoining the shop ; and here I found them on avdamp winter evening. They were .nearly all warmly dressed, and seemed yri__V and strong, judging from the noise tbey wsre making, and norn the assiduity with which they pursued certain games of bop-scotoh and pitchrand-toss. Many of fhe (drls had brought skipping-ropes; and \»r vie -time-being the usually sedate-look-ing little yard was transformed into a Boerdrsobool playground. Meanwhile sundry P»ie» thin little ones were closely herded together upon ' a few square yards of pavement, which, notwithstanding the hu- . mii-jty of the night, was dry, being situated just- above tbe bakehouse. I made several attempts at conversation, but^the' children were not to be drawn. Thw- wears .very independent, and not too *-' graMfOl 'iac~ we nightly gleanings, for whicb* they paid threepence ; and which, on enquiry in -the shop, I found to be tfO KSBB " GLEANINGS," BUT AX ABUKDANT . y._ A_»vkst. " You most not take much notice of what tbe children say," said the genial lady manager,- a gracious young woman, .who was anxious to give me all the information she could. "Tbey are notoriously ungrateful ; if. we gave them a sack of scraps they yrdvUi. nob consider it enough." "And what do you gire them?" - "Three large loaves of bread and some

stale buns and pastry; and when, as is frequently the case, we have an extra amount of confectionery, we absolutely give ifc away." Among the busiest gleaners of the great city are the Little Sisters of the Poor. It is a common thing to see them on their excursions of charity with their cart, which is often driven by an old cripple from their Home. I visited one of their havens for the destitute, and found some two hundred and twenty old men and women happy and well cared for under their patient direction. The Reverend Mother herself showed'me over the Home. Her fage bore the impress of tbat exceeding peace of which we worldings can form no idea. It was one o'clock, and the aged household was eating dinner in the several refectories. "The food nearly all comes from the big hotels," said the Reverend Mother. " Sometimes we have forty carcases of chickens at a time." THE UTILE SISTEBS OF THE POOK. The stew whicb the old people were eating smelt delicious ; it was made out of odds and ends from the restaurants. An enormous pan of Brussels-sprouts, cooked in a special way unknown,. I fancy, to English methods, had just been taken from the oven and was still sputtering. These had been brought that morning from Covent' Garden, where the Little Sisters had been to fetch them in the early hours. In the infirmary the blind and the lame, the sick and the paralysed were, dining off chickenbroth, calves- feet jelly, and lemon custard, all daintily served and looking excellent. "I wish you would send us a cook," I said jestingly to my escort. "Our cooks are all French Sisters," she replied. " They understood the art of making the food tempting, and unless it were nicely prepared many of our poor old people would have no appetite for it." I had thought that pan of Brusselssprouts and the odour oi the stew quite un-English. . Though tbe gleanings were of the best, still they were only gleanings; and it required a master-hand to manipulate 'them into the present dainty dishes. > So far as I can ascertain, only Mr Gardner, of Red Lion Court, Fleet Street, has adopted the custom of giving, away the pieces left upon the plates after his clients have lunched. He practised this charity for sixteen years. at his old restaurant in Fetter Lane, and now continues it at Red Lion Court, utterly disclaiming meanwhile to accept any credit to himself for the transaction. He is a kindly, sympathetic man. I believe that his old restaurant in Fetter Lane was a very interesting one ; he had the quaint idea of christening each compartment with the name of a statesman. ' .' "Do you know anything about these poor creatures who come for the food?" I asked him. "Nothing whatever. We don't know where they come from, nor where they go to. We ask no questions, and they volunteer no information. Of one thing alone we are certain ; they are the poorest; of the poorj But come and see them, Miss." A PICTURE OF FOVEKTT. ' I did go. Nine milerable wretches were waiting at the end of the Court. - They were- all men except three; and the aspect of these three women was even sadder than that of the men. These grim outcasts neither spoke nor looked attach other; they stood watching the extreme end of the court, where the restaurant stood. Indifferent to all that passed around them, each one seemed to be fulfilling a self-im-posed duty. They might ha/ye been under the spell of some strict discipline, so motionless did they stand, with betrayal of neither eagerness nor impatience. Presently a boy, holding a tray upon which were about a dozen packages neatly .folded in a "piece of newspaper, appeared upon the steps of Mr Gardner's HoteL On the instant the waiting pensioners tramped down the court, each receiving a portion, and passing oub into Fleet Street. Such is the "Harvest of the London Poor," tendered in mercy, reaped in thankfulness. . •