And yet the quality of the life is good.  All human potentialities are in it.  Given proper conditions, it could live through the centuries, and great men, heroes and masters, spring from it and make the world better by having lived.

I talked with a woman who was representative of that type which has been jerked out of its little out-of-the-way streets and has started on the fatal fall to the bottom.  Her husband was a fitter and a member of the Engineers’ Union.  That he was a poor engineer was evidenced by his inability to get regular employment.  He did not have the energy and enterprise necessary to obtain or hold a steady position.

The pair had two daughters, and the four of them lived in a couple of holes, called “rooms” by courtesy, for which they paid seven shillings per week.  They possessed no stove, managing their cooking on a single gas-ring in the fireplace.  Not being persons of property, they were unable to obtain an unlimited supply of gas; but a clever machine had been installed for their benefit.  By dropping a penny in the slot, the gas was forthcoming, and when a penny’s worth had forthcome the supply was automatically shut off.  “A penny gawn in no time,” she explained, “an’ the cookin’ not arf done!”

Incipient starvation had been their portion for years.  Month in and month out, they had arisen from the table able and willing to eat more.  And when once on the downward slope, chronic innutrition is an important factor in sapping vitality and hastening the descent.

Yet this woman was a hard worker.  From 4.30 in the morning till the last light at night, she said, she had toiled at making cloth dress-skirts, lined up and with two flounces, for seven shillings a dozen.  Cloth dress-skirts, mark you, lined up with two flounces, for seven shillings a dozen!  This is equal to $1.75 per dozen, or 14.75 cents per skirt.

The husband, in order to obtain employment, had to belong to the union, which collected one shilling and sixpence from him each week.  Also, when strikes were afoot and he chanced to be working, he had at times been compelled to pay as high as seventeen shillings into the union’s coffers for the relief fund.

One daughter, the elder, had worked as green hand for a dressmaker, for one shilling and sixpence per week—­37.5 cents per week, or a fraction over 5 cents per day.  However, when the slack season came she was discharged, though she had been taken on at such low pay with the understanding that she was to learn the trade and work up.  After that she had been employed in a bicycle store for three years, for which she received five shillings per week, walking two miles to her work, and two back, and being fined for tardiness.

As far as the man and woman were concerned, the game was played.  They had lost handhold and foothold, and were falling into the pit.  But what of the daughters?  Living like swine, enfeebled by chronic innutrition, being sapped mentally, morally, and physically, what chance have they to crawl up and out of the Abyss into which they were born falling?