One of the worst enemies to a poor man in a common lodging-house is favouritism. I have seen hundreds of instances where a man could be comparatively happy were it not for a prejudiced porter or kitchen-man. I was not long in one large house before I saw this, in the case of a porter, a bully, and a gentleman. The bully was drunk and going from place to place, insulting everyone, especially those that were better dressed than himself. Few of the lodgers took any notice of him, until he came to one that had on a silk hat and a frock-coat. This man lost his temper and told the bully that he had no right to interfere with men that wanted to be quiet. He was in the act of uttering this dignified rebuke when a porter came and stood before them. "What's the matter?" he asked. The well-dressed man began a quiet explanation, but the bully interrupted him; so the former stopped at once, thinking he would have a chance to speak when the other had done. "You had better go to bed," said the porter to the bully, "and"—addressing the well-dressed man—"you come with me to the office." When they arrived at the office the porter said a few words to the clerk, and the latter returned the well-dressed man his money, telling him to go elsewhere for a bed. There were very few lodgers in the house that did not know the meaning of this injustice. The well-dressed man was a gentleman, and, in spite of his low circumstances, did not forget it. He looked on the porters as his servants and, when he met them in the street, never invited them to have a drink. Again, there was no necessity for him to rise early, whereas the bully gave a porter sixpence a week to be called every morning.

I was not many weeks at this house before I thoroughly understood these matters. One night, when I was going to bed, a man, who was quite tipsy, wanted to detain me in conversation, and I was doing my best to escape, when up the stairs ran one of the porters. "Why don't you go to bed?" he said to me. "You haven't to get up in the morning, and others have." This porter had not heard my voice, and he could see that the other man was drunk, but of course he set upon me because the other paid to be called early. This porter became more civil after, which I could well understand. I used to tip the bath-porter twice a week, and seeing that they shared their tips—one being in a better position than another to get them—so, no doubt, the bath-porter had pointed me out for civility. There was no appeal against these porters. They allowed some men to do things which they got others turned out for, and it was no use trying to explain oneself to the manager. Although I believe that he was a very just man, he could not do otherwise than trust his men, say what they would. In fact, I believe that this manager was so just that he would have dismissed a porter at once if he could prove that that porter was prejudiced against any of the lodgers and having them turned out for his own spite.

When I left this house and went to one that was in the hands of Christianity, I found the same state of things. The Christian officer behind the food-bar gave thick slices of bread to those he liked and thin slices to others; and he skimmed the top of the soup for those he did not like or was indifferent to, but his ladle went to the bottom for favourites. The consequence was that some lodgers would have hot, greasy water, while others would have thick soup that was almost Irish stew. It was well worth while to bribe this man with a drink of whisky. One artful lodger did better than that, as he told me in confidence. This man behind the bar was not supposed to take money for food; the lodgers had to buy tin checks at the office, with which they paid for what they wanted. But my artful dodger would go to the bar when no one was there to see, put a penny down and receive what he asked for. The officer behind the bar would quickly take this money, in spite of the strict rules and the severe discipline of that Christian army. But if a newly-arrived stranger put money down, that officer would shout, loud enough to be heard at the office—"We don't take money behind the bar; go to the office for checks."

When I first went to that lodging-house I had a small bundle, in which were an extra shirt, a pair of stockings, a brush, razor, and a few other articles. Seeing that all the lockers were in use, I had no other option than to ask the kitchen-man to look after it, for which I gave him twopence, although he had no claim to anything. Whether the bar-man saw this deed or was told about it I cannot say, but I know that I soon became one of his favourites. I may as well say here that, judging by my later experience at this place, it was well that I did tip the kitchen-man, for he often took a notion to sell the things in his charge, only holding such property sacred as had been tipped for. And yet on a Sunday afternoon these two, the bar-man and the kitchen-man, would be seen one on each side of the captain, and heard crowing like two cocks that challenge each other. When the captain prayed one would shout "Hallelujah!" The other would no sooner hear this than he would stretch his neck, grow red in the face, and cry fiercely, "Praise the Lord!" These doings not only amused the lodgers, but the principals as well; for, judging by their faces, it was all they could do to keep from laughing outright.

I was at one lodging-house where the beds were clean, the cooking accommodation good, and, according to the small rent to be paid, everything as could be desired. But this place was also spoilt by a common kitchen-man, who made things uncomfortable for all those that did not give him either money, ale, or tobacco. This man would build the fire up when a disfavoured lodger was in the middle of cooking a meal, and then sweep the dusty floor when he was at his meals. Of course, these things had to be done, so that there was no use in reporting him to the manager. Still, there was no reason why he should make more dust around your food, and take longer under your table than others, and build up the fire before there was actual need of it. Yes, there was a reason—known to himself—you never gave him anything.

This kitchen-man upset me so much that I agreed with another lodger to share a furnished bed sitting-room. Alas! I was soon back in the same lodging-house, in spite of its crazy kitchen-man. The man with whom I shared the room disappeared suddenly, and when I heard his character I did likewise. Without my knowledge, he borrowed of the landlady; and the vicar came to me saying that my friend had told him that I was on the point of starvation, and got a shilling on that account. Not knowing what else he had done in the neighbourhood, I could not feel at ease. Therefore, not having the courage to give my landlady notice, I put on all my clothes—two pairs of trousers, two shirts, a waistcoat, two jackets, and an overcoat—and crept to the front door. Seeing that I had filled the pockets with a number of small articles, it did not surprise me much to find great difficulty in moving. I do not know what I would have done if the landlady had been at the front door, because I could not have squeezed past her, and she could not have helped seeing that I was as broad as I was long. What upset me was that she had said she would not have let the room to him, but had trusted my face. However, I did not owe her any rent, and if I ever meet her when I am better off I will give her a sovereign.

I have seen this favouritism even in prison. It came under my notice in an American jail, where I had to serve fifteen days, and I was as innocent as a new-born babe. All the prisoners were in one long room, with cells on each side, in which they slept at night. At the end of the room there was a square hole in the wall, which had a slide; and it was through this hole that the prisoners received their meals. When I went for my first meal, I could see the face of the old cook—who was a prisoner—and was rather surprised to see him nod and smile, as though he knew me. This smile was followed by a large plate of food, much more than others. Perhaps the old prisoner-cook thought he saw in me a fellow-prisoner in some other jail, and he may have been right, for I had been in many others; or perhaps I resembled a son of his. Whatever it was, it was quite clear that he did not give me the plate that came to my turn, but kept one apart.

XVI