It is a cheap form of pleasure,
even if they paid all expenses, though that would not be likely.
They would have an uphill job at first, for the sailor has been
so long accustomed to being preyed upon by the class he knows,
and neglected by everybody else except the few good people who
want to preach to him, that he would probably, in a sheepish
shame-faced sort of way, refuse to have any "truck" with you, as
he calls it. If the "sailors' home" people were worth their
salt, they would organize expeditions by carriage to such
beautiful places as--in London, for instance--Hampton Court,
Zoological Gardens, Crystal Palace, Epping Forest, and the like,
with competent guides and good catering arrangements. But no;
the sailor is allowed to step outside the door of the "home" into
the grimy, dismal streets with nothing open to him but the dance-
house and brothel on one side, and the mission hall or reading-
room on the other. God forbid that I should even appear to sneer
at missions to seamen; nothing is farther from my intention; but
I do feel that sailors need a little healthy human interest to be
taken in providing some pleasure for them, and that there are
unorthodox ways of "missioning" which are well worth a trial.
Pages:
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440