Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1847-04-23


such an abundance of every thing which can:
tend to make life agreeable and happy. Es-
peclally should we be grateful, when we con-
template the miserable state of things which
exists in many other portions of the world
In Ireland, particularly, will be found the
strongest and most vivid contrast The des-
tuition which there prevails, is, indeed, heart
rending. The following letter will, we think,
be read with interest, and cannot but excite
feelings of sympathy. 1t is written by Elihu
Burritt -
SKIBBEREEN, February 90, 1917.
The Rev. Mr.. Fitzpatrick called,
with several gentlemen of the town, and
in their company | took my first walk through
the potters' field of restitution and death As
soon as we opened the door a crowd of hag-
gard creatures pressed upon US, and with ag-
onizing prayers for bread followed us to the
soup kitchen. One poor woman, whose en-
treaties became irresistibly importunate, had
watched all night In the graveyard, lest the
body of her husband should be stolen from its
last resting place, to which he had been con-
signed yesterday She had left five children
sick with the famine fever in her howell, and
she raised an exceedingly bitter cry for help.
man with swollen feet now pressed closely
upon us, and begged for bread most piteously.
He had pawned his shoes for food, which he
had already consumed The soup kitchen
was surrounded by crowd of these famine
spectres-half naked and standing or sitting
IN the mud, beneath cold driZZling rain
The narrow defile to the dispensary bar was
checked with young and old of both sexes,
struggling forward with their rusty tin and
iron vessels for soup-some of them upon all
Tours, like famished beasts.
There was cheap bread dispensary open
ed IN one end of the building, and the princi-
pal pressure was 1.-THE door of this Amongst
the attenuated apparitions of humanity throng-
ing this gate of stinted charity, one poor man
presented himself under circumstances that
even distinguished his case from the rest He
lived several miles from the centre of the
town, in one of the rural districts, where he
found himself on the eve OF perishing with
his family of seven small children. Life was
worth the last struggle of nature, and the mis-
cradle skeleton of a father had fastened his
youngest child to his back, and with four
more by his side, had staggered up to the door
just as we entered the bread department Of the
establishment. The hair on his face was near
| ly as long as that on his. head; his cheeks
were fallen in, and his Jaws so distended that
he could scarcely articulate aword His fom
little children were sitting upon the ground by
his feet, nesting together and trying to hide
their naked limbs under their dripping rags
How these poor things could stand upon theil
| feet and walk-wal1 five miles as they haC
done-I could not conceive
Their appearance, though common to thou
sands in this region of the shadow of death
was indescribable. Their paleness was no
that OF common sickness. There was nc
sallow tinge in it. They did not look as il
newly raised from the grave and to lift before
the blood had begun to fill their veins anew
5ut as if they had Just been thawed out of ice
in which they had been imbedded until theil
blood had turned to water
Leaving this battle field of life, accompan
led Mr.. Fitzpatrick, the Catholic minister, in
to one of the howell lanes of the town We
found in every tenement we entered enough tt
sicken the stoutest heart In one we found
shoemaker who was at work before hole il
the mud wall of his hut, about as large as
small pane of glass. There were five in hi:
family and he said when he could get any
week. In another cabin we discovered nail
er, by the small light OF his fire, working in ;
space not three feet square He too had ;
large family, half of whom were down will
the fever; and he could earn but two shil.ing
a week About the middle Of this filthy ian,
we came to the ruin of howell which had fall
len during the night and killed man who hat
taken shelter in it with his wife and child
| 10 bo6 in tho 4,
to perish with cold and hunger, had entered
his falling house of clay. He was warned o
his danger, but answered that die he mus
unless he found a shelter before morning
He had kindled a small fire with some straw
and bits of turf, and was crouching over it
when the whole roof and gable end Of eartl
and stones came down upon him and his child
and crushed him to death over the slow fire
The child had been pulled out alive, an
carried to the workhouse; but the father wa
still lying there upon the dung heap OF the fal
) len roof, slightly covered with piece of can
vass. On lifting this, humIiating spectacl
presented itself. What rags the poor man ha
upon him, when buried beneath the falln
! roof, were mostly torn from his body in tn
last faint struggle for life; his neck and shoul
ders and right ann were burnt to clnder.-
There he lay in the ruin, like the carcase CT
brute beast thrown upon the dung hill. AS W
continued our walk along this filthy lane, ha
naked women and children would come out c
their cabins, apparently in the last stage of tn
fever, to beg for food sc for the honor OF God.
As they stood upon the wet ground we coul
: almost see it smoke beneath their bare fee
burning with fever We entered the grave
yard, in the midst of which was small watch
. house. This miserable shed had served as
grave where the dying could bury themselve
It was seven feet long and six in breadth.
an embankment of graves half way to til
caves. The aperture of this horrible den {
death would scarcely admit the entrance of
common sized person. And into this noisom
sepulchre, living men, women and childre
went down to die-to pillow upon the rotte
\ straw. the grave clothes vacated by precedir
victims, and fostering with their fever He
they lay as closely to each other as if crowdt
side by side on the bottom of one grave. S.
persons had been found in this fetd sepuch
at one time, and with one only able to cray
to the door and to ask for water. Removir
: board from the entrance of this black no
> of pestilence, we found it crammed with We
e victims of famine, ready and willing to peris
A quiet, listless despair broods over the pop
ation, and cradles men for the grave.
Returned from this painful walk, nearly W
through and sad at the thought that cou
4 not administer any relief to my perishing fe
low beings Spent this evening in wrtiE
u letters to England.