"Psha!" exclaimed' ; "in any case it is mistaken charity. To relieve street-beggars were to encourage vice and idleness. In a country like this, Sir, where such fine provision is made for the poor, where parochial relief may be obtained, where we have a Mendicity Society instituted purposely to prevent street-begging, no one need be in distress." "Nor would they if they could help it, I suppose." "They need not beg if they would work." a woman-at Always supposing they could find employment. But to return to my exception, the case of unquestionable distress-unquestionable, I mean, so far as the appearance of the mendicant, his story, and one's own judgment (and I would almost rather that, upon such a point, the judgment should be from the heart than the head) can lead to an opinion. I see a poor creature-a woman, Mr. night-bare-footed, bare-headed, the rags about her person insufficient to cover her, crouching and shivering under such shelter as one of the alcoves of Westminster Bridge can afford her against the snow and the sleet. I may not remind her that if she had not rejected the employment which had been offered to her (I am supposing thus much), or that if she had not squandered the whole of the liberal remuneration of twelve shillings a week which she had received from Madame des Ruches, the fashionable milliner, for working the flesh off her fingers from six of the morning till ten at night, she need not have been starving on Westminster Bridge. No: in the first place this is no time for such a reminder; and, in the next, if you will not allow me to relieve, you take from me the right to remonstrate. 'No preachee and floggee too, Massa!' But I ask her, in the blandest tone imaginable, why she does not go home, instead of lying, on a stormy night, upon a cold bridge? She tells me she has no home to go to. I next ask her why, in a country like this where such fine provision is made for the poor,' she does not go to her parish? She replies that her parish is in the North Riding of Yorkshire. I then inquire why she does not apply for relief to the Mendicity Society, as she ought to do, instead of begging in the streets-a course which is highly improper? She faintly answers that the house of that excellent society is three miles off, and that, anhungred and benumbed with cold, she cannot crawl so far. Now, Mr. —, though I am as little disposed as you are to vice and idleness,' I ask you what I ought to do in a case like this, which, let me assure you, is neither exaggerated nor rare ?" 66 encourage Why, Sir, a hundred to one the woman is an impostor." "Long odds, Mr. However-granted. And what then ?” "What then! Why, if you give to impostors you do encourage vice and idleness, and, by so doing, act in opposition to the best interests of society." "As a rule, I admit it; but I am taking an exception." "Well, then; for the exception: you are laughed at by the very object of your mistaken charity." "Granted. And what then? We do not, like the benevolent man in a sentimental comedy, give a well-filled purse, or a pocket-book crammed with bank-notes, to the first beggar we meet with the relief afforded in such cases, by the most charitable, or the most gullible of us, seldom exceeds a few halfpence. Now, Sir, is it not better to run the risk of being laughed at for a dupe, by an artful, designing woman, who places herself in a situation which neither you nor I should envy for the comforts it affords, and who, in her wickedness, does this for the express purpose of deluding us into the bestowing of-let us be noble in our generosity-sixpence; is it not better than to run the other risk ?" "What other risk do you run?" "That the misery and suffering, of which she exhibits the outward and visible signs, may be real; and that by leaving her to want a few pence which would have procured for her shelter a degree or two less wretched than that afforded by a stone bench on a bleak bridge, and a morsel of bread for her supper, I leave her to die! Again, I say, and I asseverate-the case I put is neither exaggerated nor rare : consult your police reports else, or your newspapers three times in every week during the inclement season. The machinery of public charity, contrive it as you will, is insufficient to perform all the work that poverty and destitution require. Thousands of sufferers in thousands of ways there are who come not within the range of its operation. For this, also, will I refer you to the police proceedings of almost every day the whole year round. Constantly do we read of some culprit being carried before a magistrate, and charged with the heinous crime of having taken his lastnight's rest in the open street, with a stone door-step for his pillow. The luxurious rascal! will nothing less content him? He has nothing to say in his defence but that he had not wherewithal to procure a lodging; and that, owing to some form, or quirk, or quibble, his applications to the authorities' for relief had been rejected. These forms, and quirks, and quibbles being all according to law, the magistrate expresses his regret that nothing can be done for him; and if he, the magistrate, be a good-natured fellow (as many of them are) he gives the criminal a shilling from his own pocket, and dismisses him with a warning to beware of a second offence. Out, then, upon your mendicity-mongers, who hold up the scare-crow Imposture to frighten Charity out of the streets! Let her walk where she will, there is no danger that she will fatigue herself to death by her excursions." Mistaken charity, depend upon it," said Mr. "Why, Sir, a half-naked fellow will come shivering to you on a cold winter's day and beg a penny of you for bread. What does he do but go to the next public-house and buy gin with it ?" "Let him he can't afford to to drink Port or Claret to keep out the cold, which you and I should require for that objectionable purpose." 66 That, at any rate," said Mr. mistaken charity." with an air of triumph, "is "Charity, Mr. is never a mistake where benevolence is the motive. Mistaken charity' is a mean, sordid, purse-protecting phrase. It claps a padlock upon the breeches-pocket, which is, in general, sufficiently guarded against any very dangerous liberality by a mere button. It is most frequently in his mouth, who (tó repeat the words of Gay,) I wrapt in his virtue and a good surtout,' is glad of any plausible pretext to avoid a draught of two-pence upon his purse. Now, for men like him, Sir, meetings of this kind (where not the motive or the means of the giver, but only the amount of the gift is considered) are admirably contrived: for, either from ostentation, or some unrevealed motive of interest, he will be induced to give ten guineas, whereas, without such incentive, he would not willingly have given as many shillings.' "That's true, very true," replied "For instance, there is **** yonder, a member of my profession: he regularly gives his five guineas here, though he can no better afford it than I can. But I suppose it answers his purpose. His name is called out in a loud voice, and the company cry Bravo,' and make all sorts of disagreeable noises, and he gets into notice. See now-look at him-see how he is earwigging Sir W▬▬ C▬▬, who has lately returned with a princely fortune from India. Sir W- is said to be passionately fond of art. But let him go on; I have my card to play also." This was the second time Mr. had used this phrase, though I was but little more enlightened as to its meaning than before. Attention was now called to a speech from the chair. The purport of the oration was to exalt the Charity of the day above all other possible Charities, past, present, and to come; and to exhort the visiters to contribute with a liberality for which the orator hoped and trusted they would receive the grateful thanks of children yet unborn. The stewards then proceeded round the room to collect contributions. Mr. asked one of them for pen, ink, and paper: these were given to him, and the gentleman passed on. Mr. deliberately wrote a draught, deliberately folded it, deliberately rose from his seat, and deliberately beckoned with it between his fingers, first to one of the stewards, then to another. After considerable delay, and just when the whole of those functionaries were crowded around the treasurer, his signals were perceived. A steward approached him, received the strip of paper, pressed his hand to his heart, and retired. At the very same instant silence was called for the first list of contributions. The announcement of these was received according to their several amounts, in the manner I have already described. There was one, however, and that was the last, which was honoured with loud and long-continued cheering:"And Mr. ****, TEN guineas!" Mr. **** cast his eyes modestly down upon the table; Mr. ————— turned pale. 66 Why-confound him!" muttered ; "the ostentatious-the interested-the time-serving-the-ten guineas, and be hanged to him Had I suspected such a thing I would almost have And my five guineas! they have not called out my five guineas!" Then, calling to him the steward who had received his donation, he continued :-" Sirmy dear Sir-my five guineas-I gave you a draught for five guineas, and they have not called out my five guineas." "It was too late for the first list, my dear Sir; but your very handsome donation will be announced in the second." Saying this the speaker withdrew. "My five D-n my handsome donation!" muttered guineas-I didn't give my five guineas to be announced in the second list, when the noble president will be gone, and when nobody will be in the room to hear about it. And the people are already going away! -And Sir WC, too, whose notice I particularly desired to attract. And, as I hope to live, that ostentatious, time-serving fellow, ****, along with him-arm in arm, too!-An actual fraud! A positive fraud Fairly done out of my five guineas, for any good it will do me." At length, just as the noble president rose to depart, silence was called for the second list of contributions. And in such silence as the moving of chairs, the shuffling of feet, and exclamations of " Delightful afternoon!" "Capital chairman !" "Charming singing!" "Admirable charity!" would allow, a list of some dozen contributions, with " Mr. -'s five guineas!" amongst them, was hastily mumbled over. "Pretty treatment, upon my word!" said (striking his hat down upon his head, with a force that endangered his nose.) "Five guineas! I might just as well have given my one guinea, as usual, for anything that the meeting of to-day is the wiser, or that I am likely to be the better for it. A dead loss of four guineas to me!" "But a dead gain of exactly so much to the A stitution," thought I. s' Benevolent In Happily there are in this country thousands and thousands to whose charity may be applied the words of a popular poet : "Whose silent gifts, no tribute paid to Fame, Bless where they flow, but still conceal their source—” yet, on the other hand, it will not be denied that there are hundreds and hundreds whose coffers would for ever remain hermetically sealed against the claims of humanity, were not some such magic as has been here noticed employed to open them. P*. A NOTE FROM THE GENTLEMAN WHO IS ASHAMED TO BE SEEN. (Communicated by Mr. Blanchard.) ******.-Naturally nervous-shy, sensitive, fidgetty-I am at this moment so overwhelmed with shame, so bewildered in a maze of many horrors that I seem to feel the want of a dictionary to help me to the few words necessary to the relation of my-simple-but-appalling story. Perhaps the narrative is unnecessary. Perhaps all London is now laughing at my adventure. Here in my forlorn solitude, how should I know the subject of the club's scandal, the town's gossip? Am I that subject? I can't go out to ascertain. I can see no friend. See! alas, can I ever be seen! Can I ever venture to be visible again? Yes, I dare say the whole town is already talking of the affair,quizzing the hero of the tale,-the absurd gentleman, who, in his abstractedness, in that state of mind in which a man thinks so deeply, that he's confoundedly thoughtless,-by the oddest mistake, the most ridiculous but provoking blunder,-absolutely cut off-psha! the absurdity goes beyond the absurd. And to do it with my eyes open, wide open, actually staring myself in the face all the time! If the tale is to be told, let history have the right version. Concealment is out of the question, so I may as well confess. But the public's patience for a single moment-I will but make one inquiry, and then begin. * Surely I rang that bell before. There's pull the second. That fellow Robert is afraid to enter the room, lest he should laugh outright as he looks at me. Oh, here he is. Well, Robert, what says Harris? what of the bear? Oh, he is killed, is he? That's all right. And I shall have some of the finest and purest quality? Very well, that'll do; now shut the door. I could not proceed until that matter was fairly off my mind. The reader may not have a very distinct recollection of my picture, which the artist and myself admired amazingly at Somerset House in the Exhibition before last. It was simply sent as the portrait of a gentleman-I shall be the gentleman next time. But whosoever observed that portrait must have especially remarked-there is no self-flattery in this especially remarked the flowing curl of the hair, the graceful line of the whisker, the unexceptionable arch of the eye-brow. To object to the hue, I fancy, would be to condemn the glossy black of the raven. There was no such effect in any other portrait in the Exhibition. In fact, the three hundred and seventy-two remaining gentlemen who published their heads that year were either grey or bald. If they would like to make an experiment, I can with pleasure accommodate all of them with some dye or balsam, some oil or essence, warranted infallible. Within these eight-and-forty hours I have been in communication with every hair-professor in town, and have a stock of inestimable compositions, sufficient to warrant me in opening an establishment upon a grand scale. I speak of myself as being shy and sensitive-it is my evil fortune to be so-but being shy and sensitive is no reason why a man should be blind to his own whiskers, or shut his eyes to the eyebrows which he wore in his cradle. I may, without blushing, confess to a secret consciousness that in these respects nature had singled me out for honour; that she who had given Solomon his wisdom, had given whiskers to me. I have no such consciousness of the possession of other advantages, if I have any. My eyes may be of any colour, dull or bright, for aught I can tell; my mouth-no, that is absolutely beyond my reach; but my hair-whatever strength I may possess, it certainly lies where Sampson's did. Even at this moment I cannot help consoling myself with the reflection-at this moment, when my hair-could the reader behold it!-is almost standing on end. What is it that Chillon's prisoner says about" turning white in a single night?" This consciousness, or, if the world will insist upon calling it so, this conceit, has cost me something. It is better to have a head of hair like a wiry terrier's and not know it, than hyacinthine locks, and be ever cognizant of the distinction. It is better to be unthinkingly bare-cheeked, than to have a pair of whiskers perpetually rushing across your mind. Still, there is no gainsaying, in my case, the fact of their magnificence. I, who had an inkling of it before, was sure of it when the portrait appeared. I collected the opinions of many ladies of my acquaintance, about whose ideas upon such a subject it was impossible for a person of a sensitive turn of mind, like myself, to form a notion previously. I had originally a little doubt of the propriety of exhibiting the picture, having observed that people never call you ill-looking till your portrait is produced, and then, although the painter have made you as ugly as Snarley-yow himself, they will all swear that it's a flattering likeness. Such was not my fate-I listened anxiously for the |