The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1852-10-01
.Ur DAILY DISPATCH
A cowARDIN. Proprietor.
-cuR PLEASANTS, Editor.
- z.,11InREN OF THE POOR.

Eur CHILDREN OF THE POOR.
,,r,,u,ns touching picture from the last
'|-.f.Bleak House," is not limited IN
h'1r .noli,a,ion to the latitude OF London
-. ,nanv mothers in this city, tsays
i"', W. York rimes) whose feelings and
''s ooud no, be unlike those herein
80 s,ri who have we got here tonight" says
n, CU,kel, opening another door, and glar-
=, ~, in wiih his bulls eye. Two drunken
.A Oh ; and two wonenl The men are
n,~'i l.,rd enough" turning back each sleeper's
s,., liam his face 10 ook at him. "Are these
'on, GOOD men, my dears Z"
"yes. sir," returns one Of the women
eThey are our husbands"
"Bfickmakers, Ell T.
"Ies, sir.
What are YOU doing here7 You don't be-
long 10 LONDON. u.u,,,.a.h;n
Whereabouts in Hertlordshire ~
"St. Adams
"Come up on the irampf"
We walked up yesterday. There's no
work dosn With US at present; but We have
done no good Dy coming hefe' ana snail 90
none | expect
That's no, the way TO do much good"
Saws Mr. Bucket, turning his head in the
direction Of the unconscious figures on the
III ant. indeed" replies the woman with a
sigh. Jenny and me knows it full welt."
The room, though two or three feet higher
than the door, is so low that the head of the
tallest Of the visitors would touch the black
ened ceiling If he stood upright. 1t is often
siye 10 every sense; even the gross candle
burns pale and sicklv in the polluted air.
There ale couple Of benches, and higher
bench by way Of table. The men lie asleep
where they stumbled down. but the women sit
by The candle. Lying in the arms Of the wo-
nan who has spoken is very young child.
why. what age do you call that little
crealure?' saws Bucket. at looks as if it was
born Yesterday" He is not at all rough about
il; ard as he turns his light gently on the in
;an', Mr.. Suugsby is strangely reminded of
another infant, encircled with light that he has
seen in pictures.
He is not three weeks old yet, sir" says the
woman.
is he your child!'
"Mine."
The other woman, who was bending over it
when they came in, stoops down again, and,
kisses tas it lies asleep.
You seem as fond of il as if YOU were the
mother ycuIself' says Mr.. Bucket.
Il was the mother of one like it, master and
il died."
"Ah, Jenny. Jenny !" saws the other woman
to her; better so much better TO think of dead
than alive, Jenny! Much beiter!'
Why, YOU ant such an unnatural woman,
| hope" returns Bucket, sternly, las to wish
your own child dead 4
God knows you are right, master" she re-
turns. II am not. I'd stand betw cen it and
t1,ith / / n
any pretty lady,"
"Then don't talk in that wrong manner" says
Mr.. Bucket, Modified again. "Why do you do
III"
Its brought into my head, MASTER" returns
the woman, her eyes filling with tears, when
| look down al the child lying so. If it was
never to wake no more, you'd think me mad, |
should take on so. / know that very well.
was with Jenny when she lost her's-warn't
Jenny?-and | know how she grieved. Blu,
look round you, at this place; look at them;''
glanclng al the sleepers on the ground. "Look
at the boy you're waiting for, who's gone out
TO do me good turn. Think of thei children
that your business lays with often and often,
and that you see grow up"
well, WE'LL" says Mr.. Bucket, "you train
him respectable, and he'll be comfort to you,
and look after you in your old age, you know"
Il mean 10 try hard" she answers, wiping
her eyes. But I've been a.thnking, being
oreT-Iired tonight, and not we'll with the ague,
Ct all the many things that II come in his way
Ny master will be against il, and he'll be beat,
and made TO fear his home, ane, perhaps, to
stray wild. If | work for him ever so much,
and ever so hard, there's no one to help me:
and if he should be turned bad. spite ef all
could dc, and the time should come when
should sill by him in his sleep made hard and
changed, an't it likely should think of him
as he lies in my lap now, and wish he had died
as Jenny's child died.
There, there" says Jenny. "Liz, you're
tired and i'll. Let me take him.
la doing so she dis places the mothers dress,
but quickly re-adjusls it over the wounded and
bruised bosom where the baby has been lying.
'lt's my dead child,' says Jenny, walking
up and down as she nurses, "that makes me
love this child so DEAR and it's my dead child
that makes her love ii SO dear, too as even TO
think OF lis being taken away from her now.
While she thinks that, l think what fortune
would | give to have my darling back. But
We mean the same thing, if we knew how to
say II, US two mothers dos . ia our poor hearts,
Mr. Snagsby blows his nose, and coughs his
cough Ct sympathy.