The girls of Ratcliff are all working-girls; as might be
expected, a rough and wild company, as untrained as colts, yet open to
kindly and considerate treatment. Their first yearning is for finery;
give them a high hat with a flaring ostrich feather, a plush jacket,
and a 'fringe,' and they are happy. There are seventy-five of these
girls; they use their club every evening, and they have various
classes, though it cannot be said that they are desirous of learning
anything. Needlework, especially, they dislike; they dance, sing, have
musical drill, and read a little. Five ladies who work for the church
and for the club live in the club-house, and other ladies come to lend
assistance. When we consider what the homes and the companions of
these girls are, what kind of men will be their husbands, and that
they are to become mothers of the next generation, it seems as if one
could not possibly attempt a more useful achievement than their
civilization. Above all, this club stands in the way of the greatest
curse of East London--the boy and girl marriage. For the elder women
there are Mothers' Meetings, at which two hundred attend every week;
and there are branches of the Societies for Nursing and Helping
Married Women.
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