Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, June 27, 1891

The Chairwoman (with patient good-humour). Now, I'm sure you'll all be as quiet as you can while I ... (Hubbub, caused by a personal altercation between two Women in the crowd, and shouts of "Order!") Because really my doctor has ordered me not to speak in the open air at all ... (Here an ill-conditioned female, taking offence for some inscrutable reason, remarks loudly, "_'Er_ doctor, indeed, she's a beauty, she is--'er and 'er doctor!" More calls to order, and extreme indignation of the ill-conditioned female at being informed that she is "no lady," and had "better 'old 'er jaw"; ribald and utterly meaningless jests by the larrikins.) Order, please! (Imploringly.) I know you won't make it harder for me than you can help. (A young Lady in a very tall hat and feather is heard demanding that the Gentleman in front of her should remove his "boxer," on pain of obliging her to remove it herself; the question is argued at length.) ... You all know the purpose for which we have ... (Here an enthusiastic old Lady on the drag begins to cheer aimlessly, and wave a scrubbing-brush; the Laundresses on the lorry join in.) Well, we're going to ask Parliament ... (Another female in crowd: "'Ullo, there's Mrs. JINNINGS, along with the toffs! I want to 'ear Mrs. JINNINGS speak, I do!") ... I shall now ask you to listen to a speaker--Mrs. GOFFIN--who has had several years' practical experience of laundry-work, and she will tell you, I am sure, what the hardships and injustices are which we are trying to put an end to.

[Mrs. GOFFIN, a stout, red-faced Lady, mounts the seat with a cheery confidence, amidst roars of laughter, and shouts of "Go it, old girl!" "Don't forgit to send my shirt home next week!" &c., &c. The female in the crowd repeats her preference for Mrs. JINNINGS' oratory; a string of factory-girls, in high-feathered hats, having just elbowed their way into the throng, suddenly conceive a desire to "get a breath o' air somewhere," and accordingly push and trample their way out again with a Parthian discharge of refined raillery--after which Mrs. GOFFIN's voice becomes audible.

Mrs. Goffin. Why, I've been and spoke to hover forty Members o' Parlyment on the subjeck myself, I 'ave, and they was all on our side, 'cept three or four, as was lawyers--and you know what they are! (The crowd expresses hearty disapproval of the Profession as a body.) One on 'em sez to me, "My good woman, I'm against 'aving the Factory Acts. I'm all for freedom, I am!" "So am I all for freedom," I sez, "but ..." (_Here another disturbance takes place; a little man, with red whiskers, has mildly objected to being leant upon by a burly stranger, who bawls_--"What are you afraid on? You ain't bin fresh painted, 'ave yer? Are yer 'oller inside--or what? Ga arn--I never knoo a carrotty-'aired man good for anything yet," &c., &c.) Then there's Mr. MATTHEWS, the 'OME SECKERTARY, 'e's against us, which I think 'e must be a woman-'ater hisself! (Feeling suggestion from crowd that the HOME SECRETARY has suffered a disillusion in his younger days.) But I was goin' to tell yer what we poor women 'ave got to put up with. Now there's a Mrs. HIRONMOULD, of Starch Row, Hacton Green, as I've worked for. (A Lady in crowd, who knows Mrs. H. "Ah, she's a beauty!" Cheers for Mrs. HIRONMOULD.) Well, I'll tell yer something about _'er_--it'll jest show you what she is! Why, that woman, as I know myself, she acshally ... (She relates a personal and Rabelaisian reminiscence of Mrs. H., to the huge delight of the audience.) I'll tell yer another thing--I've worked for a man down at South End, Healing, and this'll show yer the amount o' hinsult and hill-treatment we 'ave to stand, and never say nothing to. I've seed 'im, hover and hover agen, walkin' about among us in his shirtsleeves, with 'is braces 'angin' about is 'eels! (Cheers from the crowd; demonstration with scrubbing-brush by the old Lady in the drag.) I 'ave indeed, and I don't tell yer no lies. (Here a Lady in the crowd suddenly exhibits a tendency to harangue the public on her own wrongs, and has to be suppressed.) And that man 'e'd come up to me and say, "Ain't them shirts finished yet?" he sez. "No," I'd say to 'im, "they ain't, and I don't deceive yer." "It's time they was," he'd say. "Beggin' your pardon," I'd tell 'im, "it's nothink o' the kind; and, if you don't believe my word, you may go and call your Missis out of the back kitching, as knows more about it than you do!" An' are you goin' to tell me we ain't to 'ave a Factory Act, after that?

[_She stands down, having made the speech of the afternoon, and is rewarded by approving cries of "Good old girl!" An employer of labour is next introduced, and received at first with suspicion, until he explains that he is heart and soul with them, that he does not dread the application of the Factory Acts to his own establishment, and considers that it would be an excellent thing if all the smaller laundries were closed to-morrow, whereupon the ladies habitually employed in these places cheer him heartily._

A Common-Sense Speaker. It's all very well for you to come 'ere and protest against the laundresses workin' too long hours, but I tell yer _this_--it's yer own fault, it's the Public's fault. You will 'ave yer clean shirts and collars sent 'ome every week! (Several of the unwashed betray that this thrust has gone home.) A fortnight ain't a bit too long to wait for your linen! (Unanimous and hearty assent by people in dingy flannels.) And if some o' these swells and aristocrats weren't so partickler, and didn't send so much linen to the wash as they do, why, it stands to reason as the hours the washerwomen 'ud work 'ud be shorter!

[_Chorus of agreement; sudden unpopularity--especially, oddly enough, with lighthearted young laundresses--of persons in the crowd whose collars are at all aggressive in their cleanliness; universal feeling that the blame has been fitted upon the right shoulders at last. More speeches; simultaneous passing of Resolution; the Processions march away with colours flying and bands playing, and, if they have succeeded in advancing the true interests of labour, no one will be more gratified than their friend, Mr. Punch._