Page 186 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

it.
At six we went to a Salvation Army shelter. We could
not book beds till eight and it was not certain that there
would be any vacant, but an official, who called us ‘Brother’,
let us in on the condition that we paid for two cups of tea.
The main hall of the shelter was a great white-washed barn
of a place, oppressively clean and bare, with no fires. Two
hundred decentish, rather subdued-looking people were
sitting packed on long wooden benches. One or two offi-
cers in uniform prowled up and down. On the wall were
pictures of General Booth, and notices prohibiting cooking,
drinking, spitting, swearing, quarrelling, and gambling. As
a specimen of these notices, here is one that I copied word
for word:
Any man found gambling or playing cards will be ex-
pelled and will not be admitted under any circumstances.
A reward will be given for information leading to the
discovery of such persons.
The officers in charge appeal to all lodgers to assist them
in keeping this hostel free from the DETESTABLE EVIL OF
GAMBLING.
‘Gambling or playing cards’ is a delightful phrase. To
my eye these Salvation Army shelters, though clean, are
far drearier than the worst of the common lodging-hous-
es. There is such a hopelessness about some of the people
there—decent, broken-down types who have pawned their
collars but are still trying for office jobs. Coming to a Sal-
vation Army shelter, where it is at least clean, is their last
clutch at respectability. At the next table to me were two

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