Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1869-04-02

'' The kind gemmum what comes to talk
to we poor people about summit better, is
here. | should like you to hear the old buf-
fer, Buster" addressing man sitting in
chair, ." cause you knew a thing or two.
It's regular stunnin' it is what's more it
cuttin', too. Come, mister, oblige me by CIV
ing these gents stave. Let's hear summit
about that young rascal what bolted away
from his poor old governor. That's reg lar
good thing, damme-that is, Buster Come
my infant, hand over the cushion ~
The chair was passed to me, and, as open
ed my Bible, the Buster remarked -
NUNS the word, coveys. Smoke your
pipes and listen to the gemmun :"
said that our friend had spoken Of the
Prodigal Son. He says he would like you to
hear about him. will read the story, and
then explain it. They listened attentively.
Eyes ghstened as | went on. They were quiet
and orderly. And when prayed, kneeling
in their midst, not word of interruption oe-
Cured But, when | endeavored to make
personal application of the truth. Buster said,
''Lord bless you, mister, how can the likes
of us repent Why, we can't get whites to
eat, let alone things to kiver us-and what's
the use?''
may be named the naval and military beg
gars distressed operative beggars, disaster beg
gars las ship-wrecked mariners, blown-up mi
ners, and burntout tradesmen); bodily-afiict-
ed beggers such as those who are crippled,
NAMED, paralyzed, deformed, blind, deaf-and
dumb, or playing the ''shallow cove, :. G.,
appearing halEclad in the streets); foreign
beggars, who stop you, and request to know
oh lin
who sell tracts ,luciler-matches and boOt-laces;
musical beggars, who sing, or play on some
instrument, as a cloak for begging and scree-
yers, who write (" sums' - (lettes) and
"fakements" (petitiOns) for others to use.
There are individuals, however, who
will not be classified; men and women, who,
by some dexterity of hand, or trick of speech
accomplish their ends outside of rules. |
met one Of this character several years ago
in St. Johns Wood, a suburb of the West
End. Walking rapidly toward home, after
the close of business, | noticed young man
keeping along at my side, asking aims.
Without either looking at him or Stacking
my pace, replied to every application he
made, 80 No : no no !" when at once,
without any incivility, he brought his face
directly in front Of mine, and, in a tone
which it is utterly impossible to describe,
more like what one would suppose drown
ing man would unconsciously use in his last
appeal for help, than anything else, asked,
- And what am | to do sir p
turned upon him, stopped, and noticing
his eagerness, replied,
81 am sure don't know what you are to
do don't think Providence expects me to
care for you.
d" So everybody has said to day, he re-
joined. . never asked help before; | am
carpenter Just discharged from st. Luke's
look at my arm, healed Of nasty cut;
and can 'tgo back tony job without clothes.
Come and see my wife and babies; it is not
two streets of. Indeed, sir, ! am no impos-
tor Here's my character for more than six
years. Its very hard, sir-indeed it Is-to
be kept from work simply because have no
Clothes
looked at him. hesitated a moment, felt
almost sure | was wrong. but finally told
him to follow me- Arrived at home gave
him a suit Of cast-Of clothing, pair Of
shirts and socks. lie was very grateful,
and promised to come back and see me as
soon as he was fairly at his work again.
Come, | said, land if it turns out that
you are what you profess to be, will be
your friend. -
1t is needless to say that he never came.
As time passed on, | had nearly forgotten the
matter, when upon alighting from an omni-
bus, one wet, cold evening in February, more
than two years atterward, man followed
me as hastened up the square my umbrella
? being held close down for shelter, and per
sisted in asking for charity. said, in my
usual way, No no no " when a face
appeared under my umbrella, directly in
front of mine asking the question of despair.
=. And what am to do. sir.
Ohio =" said l, for recognized the tones
instantly. " have found You, have -" but
before | had time 20 call a policeman, the
man, discovering his mistake, had taken to
his legs. Here was a case where, by a sim
pie trick Of speech, stumbled upon acciden-
tally, no doubt, at first, and then afterwards
adopted Systematically, rogue probably OBJ
tained a frst-rate livelihood.
The Jews. who number within the metro
pills more than 60 600 souls, and who are To
be found in every grade OF life, from the
Premier to the old-clothos' man, take care
Of their own poor, and their schools, hospi-
tails and asylums are numerous. You see
poor Jews everywhere, but never Jewish
beggar. From Aldgatc to the Barbican
though dark lanes, strips Of roadway and
stumbling courts, where c1sterm0ngers and
bonegrubbers find their homes, and musty
furniture and half decayed peltry stide the
air, you may see Jews utilizing everything
He buys and sells, cheats and lies, steals,
and receives stolen goods; but never asks
aims
1t is perhaps at night, near - O'Clock
during the 3 months Of winter, that the
hldeous aspect Of London poverty is best seen
The hum Of life has ceased. The shops ar,
closed. The gin palaces have thurst out then
beastly crowd, some to seek shelter under th'
f benches in the park. others in inches Of the
public buildings, and Others still in the Litter
Of the markets. The only living creatures
that still haunt the streets are the wretcheC
, Nlagdalens. On the door steps crouch home
less children. In the dust-heaps are bur
rowed the rag-pickers. And, where th'
main Is being mended and the gas haunt
its ragged flame, a crowd of shiyering wretch
es are stretched among piles of stone an'
mounds ofearth. In Playhouse Yard, wher,
t the - Refuge gives gratuitously to each o
, the first SIX hundred applicants, after Bow
Bells have gone midnight, albed for rest an'
loaf for breakfast, more than twice tina
number is assembled. The blue shoeles
J feet of children pale infants at the breast
, of halfstaryed mothers; the wrangling o
greedy men and boys for places nearest th'
I bars that guard the door; beggars of ever,
, race and every craft and calling-the friend
less and penniless, the imposter and untor
r tunate, the Lascar and the Pole, seeking
j eleemosynary shelter and bread with tn
, savage craving of starving wolyes-are event
p as certain TO come as midnight.
, What is London but an incongruous chaO
of riches and poverty, charity and crime
/ ambition and despair where the very bes
and the very worst types of civilization oh
, tain and where, while there is more phil
anthropy, perhaps, there is more suffering
than in any other spot in the world.
J; A SHHTLEss Main the spring of lS4
| was searching for a studio in which to sc
! up my easel. Nv - house-hunting' ende
at the New York University, where | foun
, what | wanted in one Of the turrets of tha
stately edifce. When | had fixed my choic
= the iantor, who accompanied me in my ex
= animation of the rooms, threw open a doc
9 on the opposite side of the hall and invite
. me to enter. found myself in what wa
: evidently an artists studio, but every objec
. in it bore indubtable signs of unthrift an
n neglect. The statuetts, busts, and models o
! various kinds were covered with dust AM
cobwebs dusty canyasses were faced to tn
: wall, and stumps of brushes and scraps q
: paper Uttered the floor. The only signs Q
:, industry consisted Of few mastery crayol
, drawings and little luscious studies of colo
o pinned to the wall.
. g You will have an artist for your neigh
. bor," said the Iianitor, q though he is no
> here much of late he seems to be gettin
rather shJttlesS he is wasting his time owe
= some silly invention, a machine by which b
= expects to send messages from one place to an
other. He is very good painter, and nigh
> do well if he would only stick to his busi