this separation. It was asserted that the Almshouse should be a place of comparative comfort, liberally though economically maintained, a refuge from the evils and miseries of life-in fine, what the poor-laws contemplated. The Work-house, on the other hand, should be a place of hardships, of ample though coarse fare, and administered with strictness and severity. It should be as repulsive as is consistent with humanity, it being evident that humanity is far more concerned in using every method to incite the laboring classes to depend on themselves rather than upon charities for support.

Upon such principles the institution which forms the subject of this paper was originally founded. It was to be a kind of House of Industry, one of its main objects to impel the decrease of pauperism. With this intention, in the first two years of its history the Workhouse people were paid a small amount for their labor. In 1850 they received, according to their class, 50, 40, and 37 cents per day. But in 1851 the scale was reduced 15 cents on each sum, because of inmates merely looking forward to a few dollars to spend in a drunken debauch in the city. Payment in money was shortly after abolished altogether, and the institution being still regarded as a connection of the Alms-house those reasons were given: "When the industrious man can with difficulty obtain subsistence it is most unjust, as well as most detrimental to the moral well-being of the individual, to encourage him in idleness by the gratuitous offer of a better, at least a sufficient subsistence. We feel for the old, infirm, sick, all who are providentially afflicted, and are anxious that

every attention should be extended to them to make them comfortable and happy; while the able-bodied, who are paupers from choice and capable of work, should not be allowed benefits without conforming to rules and giving

an equivalent in labor."

ments are to succeed. Under the Board of Ten Governors the Penitentiary exhibited a spectacle that was to be deplored. The Island Hospital at that period was a branch of it, the patients being necessarily prisoners. Their cures effected, they served a certain term in the Penitentiary as payment. The Warden's report conveys the idea that the prison was a perfect Pandemonium. Diseased prostitutes, with their victims and associates; drunkards and vagrants of all kinds, lame, maimed, and blind; wretches half-idiotic through debaucheries; thieves, rowdies, and ruffians; children without parents, and old and hardened offenders, are by him enumerated as comprised within the walls. In cases of pauperism inefficient magistrates seemed to send, ad libitum, to the Alms-house and the Penitentiary, poverty being adjudged a crime by certain of them.

With the changes that we have already noted as having taken place in the Workhouse it is easy to see that it would soon absorb a large class formerly sent to the Penitentiary, and such now is the case. To state the matter concisely, court prisoners are sent to the Penitentiary, while police prisoners are sent to the Work-house. The charges in Workhouse commitments are drunkenness, vagrancy, and disorderly conduct. Small thefts are also punishable by the Work-house, although petit larceny is a Penitentiary crime.

Doubtless some little of the confusion that once existed as to the proper place of punishment for certain offenses yet prevails. Careless officials not unfrequently send up quite innocent persons through some unfortunate circumstance of time or place; and it occasionally happens that the policeman himself is more deserving of punishment than the individual The Work-house began to be regarded now committed upon his charge. Drunkenness more as a purely penal institution. Study of "covers a multitude of sins," however, in the the history of Blackwell's Island can not fail to case of a majority of the prisoners. They may impress one with the progress that has been well be thankful it is the only charge that can made in the management of the various de- be proved against them. With these facts in partments, and with the belief that improve-mind, it is gratifying to know that destitute boys are no longer kept here until indentured to a mas ter, as some three or four years ago they

SKULKERS FROM WORK.

were.

For an insight into the variety of characters and professions that find their way to the Work-house, the reader will please take his stand on the dock at the foot of Twenty-sixth Street, East River, just previous to the starting of the steamboat Bellevue for the Island. The prisoners, while actual inmates of the institu

he is a worthless drunkard, a vagrant, and a villain. There are many who do not fall under all of these rules, as will have been seen from previous remarks; but of more, what I have written serves ill to express the depths of depravity to which they have sunk.

the Penitentiary; then follow the Hospital and Work-house, and the Insane Asylum may perhaps see the end of their career.

The most amicable understanding apparently exists between the girls and their "men." Albeit their life of shame is known to all onlookers, they chat pleasantly and laugh gayly with each other; and yet that contusion round the eye, borne by yonder pale-faced young woman, was doubtless given her by the brutal, foppish youth by her side, upon whom she smiles so sweetly. Insult and abuse are her portion in life. What little heart she has is bestowed unreservedly upon him, base enough to share her degradation. Curses and blows she expects. Yet he is kind sometimes-that sullen, execrable wretch-and the tribute of her whole soul is his due. She knows no better fate, and in her ignorance can hardly conceive of natures superior to her own and his. A degraded Miranda, she loves her Ferdinand! Another party of her frail sisters arrives, the mirth increases, hands are shaken, and jests are freely exchanged; but of what character we may fairly judge, from the fact that countenances about them wear a shocked expression, and the be

But the sour-looking policeman who has charge of the Bellevue Dock opens his gate, and we are freed from odorous and unpleasant contiguity to the crowd that presses before it. Retreating to the storehouse, farther on, we await the arrival of the "Black Maria," or prison omnibus, the passengers of which are to be our study. While so doing we can not refrain from wondering glances at the motley mass from whose ranks we have made our exit. Who are they journeying to the ill-famed isle? A well-dressed gentleman, accompanied by three ladies, proclaims by the air of refinement which hangs about his party that he is a visitor merely, animated like ourselves by curiosity concerning the public buildings of New York city; though less fortunate than we, he has not succeeded in giving the sop to Cerberus. Close by him sit three decently-attired female personages, attendants in the Alms-house or the Lunatic Asylum; all seem to be of Irish ex-fore-remarked gentleman hastily withdraws his traction, though American-born appears the long-bearded individual conversing with them, a keeper in the Penitentiary. Upon the countenances of every member of the remainder of the assemblage either disease or vice is stamped most legibly; and upon them all the watchful eye of the one-legged guardian of the visitors' receiving-room is ever cast.

companions. The one-legged watchman hurries up on his crutch, and a decorous stillness prevails.

Who is that shabbily-attired woman in black, carrying a large basket? The mother doubtless of some young thief confined in the Penitentiary; honest herself it may be, and suffering concealed agony. That man beside her, with such a look of wan despair? A pauper journeying to the Alms-house; his armless

titution. From the gate of the yard of Bellevue Hospital now emerges the attenuated figure. and ghastly, emaciated countenance of a Chinaman. His parted and parched lips, his upturned vacant gaze, seem pointing at mortal pangs. Two men support his exhausted frame. For the hospital he, undoubtedly. Will he live until he arrives there?

Quite a philanthropist is that man; and one well-versed in the ups and downs of human life-somewhat of a philosopher too. A philo-sleeve helps one to surmise the cause of his dessophical tone is given, indeed, to the minds of many of these retainers of the Commissioners. It arises from the nature of their duties and the many impulses to reflection continually received. To the school of Cynics they, however, mostly belong. The object of our gaze arises and examines tickets presented to him by two pretty girls who have not reached, apparently, eighteen years. They are rather well attired; but an impudent look is stealing over a once modest front, and denotes them to be of the class of the unfortunate and erring. They are for the Island Hospital, and many of their frail sisters, less fair, stand about them, accompanied, in several cases, by flashily-dressed, heavily-mustached, and low-browed young ruffians, their so-called "protectors." Examine them well; they are of the order that recruits the Work-house.

A rumble of wheels, the crowd parts, and our reflections are cut short by the coming of the prison van, which rattles over the planking and stops before us. The whistle of the Bellevue steamboat at the same moment startles our ears, and its black hulk creeps along the wharf. Its upper and lower decks are densely covered by some three hundred medical students-a wild, hilarious multitude, just arrived from a "clinic" at the Island Hospital. Like a flock of frightened sheep they plunge pell-mell from the boat and hurry to the lecture-room of their college.

A few years more, their good looks gonemale and female-their pestiferous existence draws to a close. Drunkenness and theft, with The captain is ready to receive his passenother continued debaucheries, drag them low-gers for the return trip, and the driver of the er and lower-they are in the Work-house or the Alms-house. Some more enterprising run the gamut of all the Institutions. Their greater abilities and bolder flights grant them occasional incarcerations in the State Prison or

"Black Maria" dismounts from his perch and unbolts the door of his vehicle. A singular structure that; not unlike the menagerie cars containing the cages of wild beasts. No windows are visible, ventilation being supplied by

apertures near the roof, fitted with three slats most of those now showing their faces from of fixed window-blind. the recesses of the car, are old acquaintances of the prison authorities.

"Come out, there!" The hand of the driver rudely grasps the arm of the nearest occupant, and arouses her from a drunken stupor. A mass of rags and filth gradually discloses itself. Can it be that the creature before us is a human being? A torn shoe on one foot, a man's boot on the other; bare, bruised, and begrimed legs visible to the knee, through the wires of a battered crinoline picked from an ash-barrel; a short petticoat above this, foul and discolored with the garbage of New York streets, and fringed with its own rags; a scanty shawl alone covering the upper portion of the shivering and swollen frame; the face bloated, inflamed, distorted; its deep-sunk eyes encircled by a hideous black aureola. Can this brutish monster, casting malevolent side-glances as it sluggishly and painfully descends from its den, be or have been a woman? Not only that, but once, perchance, a beautiful and a lovable one. It seems difficult, nay impossible, to realize it; yet naught but seduction and the consequent career may have wrought this awful effect. Not the least lingering trace of education is visible on her features; yet forty years ago her conversation may have possessed a magic charm in the social circle, and she have been the delight of fond parents. Such reflections appear far-fetched as we gaze upon her; and so in truth they are; but none the less are they allied to fact. Her present station is alone thought of by the jeering spectators. We question a policeman as to whence she comes.

"What, that old bummer? Oh, from some vile den in Cherry Street; she has served a term of six months, and was liberated yesterday; got on a spree; raised a row, and is back again to-day for another term. She's a hangeron of one of the lowest dance-houses; drinks all she can get, and pilfers what she is able." Used to such sights though he be the speaker's countenance indicates disgust as he conveys his information.

A certain great thinker has said that he never heard of a crime that he could not himself have committed; one of those paradoxical sayings that are to be taken with many reservations. In its real meaning Shakspeare was pre-eminently a man who might have declared the same. It is well-nigh equivalent to an assertion that the state of mind of the doer of the deed was fully comprehended, and to a confession of one's consciousness that he is human, and, under certain circumstances, with merely the same degree of knowledge others possess, would do as they have done.

The Work-house has its regular habitués. There are many who may be said to live there, with occasional excursions to the city, lasting from one day to a week. It is nothing unusual to see thirty women leave the institution on Monday to be all brought back by Saturday.

An exception, doubtless, to this general rule is the hatless youth who springs from the vehicle with greater agility than is shown by his companions. He is distinguished from them also by having in his countenance no such look of utter abasement as they exhibit. Deepseated shame is there, not careless indifference, It is the first time that public chastisement has been visited upon him. His garments, though soiled, have a somewhat fashionable cut. A stranger to the city, his anxiety "to see life" has led him among bad associates. Too much loose change and a reckless, idle spirit has purchased a swift descent into debauchery. The intoxicating cup, a bar-room fight, an inroad of police, the station-house, the Tombs, a sentence of six weeks' imprisonment in the Workhouse, are some of the most prominent items in his recent history. Experience is a dear schoolmistress. Let us hope that in his case she is a good one too, and has taught him an effectual lesson.

There follows close upon his heels a wildeyed German, of a large and bony frame. His clothes are torn and in great disorder; his expression is haggard and imbecile. Handcuffs are upon his wrists. One of the boat's crew takes him in special charge. He is a lunatic en route for the Asylum.

And now emerges a girl of not uncomely countenance, holding before it her faded jockey hat and feather. "Not altogether shameless, then," is our thought, when a cynical observer mutters, "She don't want to spoil her future prospects." The charge against her “vagrancy," most likely.

The remaining occupant of the car pushes her bold front into sight. "A born thief!" would be our ejaculation, did we not know the warping influences of poverty and evil association. A more incorrigibly vicious creature in appearance it would be difficult to conceive. Her furtive glance, her thin and compressed lips, her low brow, denote ignorance, rapacity, and cunning.

"How many have you there?" asks the driver, referring to a paper in his hand. "Eight," responds the Captain.

"All right; there are ten more coming," Yet the author of that singular declaration and the speaker closes and bolts the door of his could never, at the time he spoke, have enter-vehicle. tained an idea of the loathsome profession of the wretch now hurried to the steamboat, or he would have little wished to startle his auditors by its enunciation. It is too vile to hint at. "Drunk and disorderly" is the charge which has sent him up this time. He, like

Another like it takes its place, and the same scene is repeated with variations. A bloated and rough over-coated individual, with a collection of rheumatic umbrellas under his arm, is the first to descend. Of Jewish extraction evidently, his appearance is so swinish that we must believe his society is tabooed by his

tribe at least.

66

To the rag-picking fraternity Though a new boat, its appropriately funereal he is closely allied. Vagrancy and drunken- garb makes it a dismal sight as to its exterior, ness are written in letters of fire on his lurid harmonious with the wretchedness to be devisage. scried within. The poetic designation given it "One of the rough-a 'Cosmos," is the by Island residents is somewhat more true, a next to appear. With his red shirt, black Tub of Misery." It has another claim to pants, and slouched felt; his tobacco-stained lips, swaggering walk, and insolent expression, he is a characteristic sample of the rowdies who infest the corners of the Bowery. "Hi! hi! there's Joe!" shouts a voice at the gate. It proceeds from one of the gay companions of the flashily-attired girls.

"How long you're in for?" continues the speaker.

Joe casts behind him a defiant grin of recognition and responds: "Ten days," adding, enigmatically, "Be sure you're there when I'm out." A rude grasp on the shoulder from an attendant policeman hurries him forward.

Like

recognition in this essay, from the fact that it is mostly manned by Work-house prisoners, whose faded and patched jackets are every where obtrusive. A stigma is plainly fixed upon them, in the name of the institution to which they belong printed on their backs. A sullen crew are they; a cringing, slave-like expression upon the countenances of two or three; yet at times much gayety is observable among them. most specimens of degraded human nature they, as a rule, possess little kindliness of feeling, even in respect to each other, and their sport frequently consists in tormenting one of their number more imbecile than the rest. Used to A painted, emaciated cyprian, with torn fin- scenes of extreme suffering, their hearts have ery, follows. She seems exhausted, and with become hardened, and they look with lazy inpainful steps joins the gang. A broad-shoul- difference upon that which causes a pang in the dered, pug-nosed, thick-set young ruffian, cre- ordinary man. Were it not for the officers ates a small sensation as he shoves his bulk over them, the agonized Hospital cases would into view. There is a muttered chorus from a often fare badly in their hands; and they apcrowd of juvenile dock-loafers and pickpockets pear to regard with especial disgust those sent at the gate. "That's him, isn't it, Bill?" to the Island upon the same charges upon which "Yes; he's a case-a jolly cove." Inquiring they themselves have been committed. A elicits the information that the renowned wor- drunken woman falling helplessly upon the thy is the hero of a recent prize-fight, in which deck would be there left to lie but for a com"Black Mike" was badly "punished." The mand; and an aged though dissolute cripple spoils of war, some twenty-five dollars, have might again and again entreat assistance, it been spent with the plainly visible effect. A would be denied him. Many of them feel litfemale sneak thief" and a 'longshoreman tle or no humiliation in their ignoble station. now appear. That haggard, and yet regular- They have never known much better. featured wretch, the intellectual sparkle of world visits upon poverty and ignorance the whose eye is not entirely lost through liquor, same contempt which it adjudges to crime, and has been a noted counterfeiter and served a to that contempt they have been all their life long term in the State Prison. used. It is their normal state. One or two, as is to be expected, possess a fair share of intelligence. They were doubtless good mechanics until drink overthrew them. Keen remorse will sometimes assail these, but they summon an ignoble philosophy to their aid; they acknowledge themselves mastered by their passion, and supinely make no struggle against its influence.

Most of those whom we have seen have committed crimes for which the Penitentiary is the fitting place of punishment, though vagrancy, with disorderly conduct, is the only charge that can be positively proved against them in the courts. The Work-house gang is completed by the addition of a rum-eaten creature, even now so overcome with "stimulant" that she has to be supported by two of the boat attend

ants.

The

There are some four or five Work-house women employed on the steamboat in keeping the vessel clean. What they are the reader has been already told in the general survey of the character of the inmates. They seem goodhumored creatures (though the Ishmaelite ex

The way to their proper receptacle on the steamboat is cleared, and the dingy, ragged gathering is marched forward, some twenty persons in all. Following, we see them disappear, single file, into the hold, through a door behind the engine-room in the centre compart-pression is to be seen in their eyes), and conment of the vessel. Although it is regularly cleaned, a noisome den must be that dépôt for so much filth, disease, and vice. We have no inclination whatever to ask to be allowed to examine its interior.

Now that we are upon the Bellevue, it is worth our while to employ our curiosity upon an institution which is so prominent a feature in the history of the criminal. Its name, Bellevue, is an euphonious title given (lucus a non lucendo) from a greater appreciation of sound than sense.

duct themselves with great decorum.

It is well known that crime, though a great leveler, has yet its aristocracy, and it may amuse the reader to learn that the Penitentiary prisoners look with disdain upon their fellows in the Work-house. Being the greater criminals, they in so far show more ability in running counter to the laws. Smartness and pluck, by those acknowledging no moral virtues, are of course the qualities most to be commended; hence doubtless their feeling of superiority.