WORKHOUSE LIFE.

West Coast Times, Issue 328, 11 October 1866, Page 1 (Supplement)

WORKHOUSE LIFE.

There is no other abode in the kingdom where the mortality is so great as in the workhouse. In the infirmary the incurable, in all save extreme cases, are discharged; but the major portion of those who come to* the . workhouse spend their last days -within its Avails. The Workhouse population consisting chiefly of persons disabled by sickness, constitutional infirmity, or old age, a high rate of mortality is to be expected. The workhouse, being the last'resort, is emphatically the place of death.

In Luptoii Workhouse the yearly deaths amount to about twenty-five per cent, of the average number of inmates ; and there is no reason to suppose that the mortality here is greater than in any of the workhouses of the country. But the yearly ' deaths do not fluctuate with, the variations in the list of inmates, or, at least, not to the same extent with those variations. v When there is a full house the per-centag y e of deaths is under the twenty-five per cent, ratio ; but when the number of inmates is unusually low the death-rate is considerably " over twenty-five per cent. There is, therefore, no class oi persons to whom the scenes of death are more familiar than the innutftes of the sick-room of a workhouse.

After death the corpse in borne out to the dead-house in the bed-clothes, the bearers holding by the corners and the sides ; and how familiar this sight is to those who are inmates of the' sick wards for any length of time Avill appear from AA r hat has already been stated.

Information of a death is immediately sent to the friends of the deceased, and they have the opportunity of com r eying the body away, and interring it at their own charge, if their means allow of it, and their disposition prompts them to do, so. About three-tenths of the inmates dying in Lupton Workhouse are thus conA^eyed to their long home by their surviving relatives, leaA'ing. seventenths to be interred at the expense of the union.

The Luptoii Cemetery being at the other extremity of the toAvn,' a hearse is needed for eacn interment; and a workhouse funeral, which, if not daily, is a more than"weekly sight, is known by the six bearers' avlio Avalk by the side of the hearse. They are decently habited in black, AA'hich is kept for the purpose, and are often the sole attendants. Although the ablest :of the ", able-bodied inmates" are chosen for tliis duty, two or three of the halfdozen may generally be described as men "past Avork.' 1 Frequently these six bearers are the only attendants, the deceased haA'ing no near relatives, or none in the locality, or none who have a sufficient^ regard for his memory to induce them to appear at a " pauper funeral." Sometimes there is one solitary individual folloAving as mourner, the husband or the wife, "the brother or the sister, the father or the mother, the son or the daughter of the departed one as the case may be. At one of the most recent funerals from Luptoii Workhouse the sole mourner Avas the mother, herself an inhiate, a Avidow in her eighty-fifth year. As she Avas "ll-able to Avalk the distance, an*attempt Avas made to lift her up by the .side of the driver of the hearse, but this *was found impracticable, and had it succeeded, it might have

been unsafe. So she followed on foot, the hearse being conducted slower than its wont, in accommodation to her tottering steps. Occasionally there is a display of cabs or coaches, which is greatly to be reprehended* as the individuals thereby proclaim their capability of relieving the parish of the expense of the funeral. In the taking away of corpses from the Avorkhouse for interment by friends, strange mistakes haA'e been known to occur. Some years ago, in Ireland, the cottage occupied by a decent elderlycouple Avas visited by fever, the wife being the person stricken. She" was taken to the workhouse, and her husband called from time to time ; but, in i consequence of &c nature of the disease, he Avas not permitted to see her. , He Avas >told, to his sorrow, that she was in a precarious position, and ultimately the sad intelligence of her death was conveyed to him. He Avas not admitted to the house, but was told that, if he sent a coffin, he might have the conducting of the funeral. A cart was procured, a feAv friends came, and the funeral took place at the churchyard of their native ' A'illage, some miles off. Tavo o» three evenings after the mournful duty had been performed, when the old man. had returned from his* day's labor to his noAv cold and forlorn habitation, and the sad change in his condition was being forced upon him in all its stern reality, he heard the sound of footsteps sloAvly approaching his door. He then heard the movement of the latch, and turning to the door, he Avas startled by the apparition of his late Avife. Another moment, and his ears Avere greeted by her well-known voice, and his first impression of the faint but familiar sight, as beheld in the dim tAvilight, was confirmed >by a tangible embrace. An explanation was soon made. She had been confounded wih another Avonian, - Avho was ill along with her. The one Avas taken, and the other left. The name of her Avho was spared was attached to her who died ; the mistake Avas not rectified by any Mends of either being admitted; and the old man had thus interred the corpse of another person, while his own wife Avas in a state approaching convalescence.

A similar mistake is said to liaye occurred at the Strout 1 Workhouse. The newspapers reported that the master of this workhouse wrote to the friends of one John White, of the village of Painswick, stating that he was dead. His friends agreed to inter ; and on the following Friday a coffin was sent, and the funeral was to take place at Painswick that afternoon ; but the^ driver of the cart, on seeing the corpse, expres* se_d very strong doubts as to whether it really was that of his' old fellowvillager. The master at first insisted that it was, but afterwards recollected that there was another man in the house of the same name ; this man was called, and was at once recognised by the driver as the John White of Painswick. It 'was agreed that he should show himself to his friends, and he was driven, to Painswick in the cart AA'hich had been sent with his own coffin, sat down among the friends who had assembled to follow* him to the grave, and, after partaking of the refreshments provided for the occasion, returned io his old quarters at the workhouse, tluly admonished, we would hope, of. the approaching reality of that event which had in so singular a man' nor been anticipated. .