“I came here in January last: I knew the old man was did who used to
keep the crossin’, and I thought I would like the kind of worruk, for
I am getting blind, and hard of hearing likewise. I’ve got no parish;
since the passing of the last Act, I’ve niver lived long enough in any
one parish for that. I applied to Marabone, and they offered to sind me
back to Ireland, but I’d got no one to go to, no friends or relations,
or if I have, they’re as poor there as I am mysilf, sir.
“There was an ould man here before me. He used to have a stool to rest
himsilf on, and whin he died, last Christmas, a man as knew him and me
asked me whither I would take it or no, and I said I would. His broom
and stool were in the coal-cellar at this corner house, Mr. ----’s,
where he used to leave them at night times, and they gave them up to
me; but I didn’t use the stool, sir, it might be an obsthruction to the
passers-by; and, sir, it looks as if it was infirrumity. But, plaise
the Lord, I’ll git and make a stool for myself against the hard winter,
I will, bein’ a carpenter by thrade.
“I didn’t ask the gintlefolks’ permission to come here, but I asked
the police and the servants, and such as that. I asked the servants at
the corner-house. I don’t know whither they could have kept me away
if I had not asked. Soon after I came here the gintlefolks--some of
them--stopped and spoke to me. ‘So,’ says they, ‘you’ve taken the place
of the old man that’s did?’ ‘Yes, I have,’ says I. ‘Very will,’ says
they, and they give me a ha’penny. That was all that occurred upon my
takin’ to the crossin’.
“But there were some others who would have taken it if I had not; they
tould me I was lucky in gettin’ it so soon, or they would have had it,
but I don’t know who they are.
“I am seventy-three years ould the 2d of June last. My wife is about
the same age, and very much afflicted with the rheumatis, and she
injured hersilf, too, years ago, by fallin’ off a chair while she was
takin’ some clothes off the line.
“Not to desave you, sir, I get a shillin’ a-week from one of my childer
and ninepence from another, and a little hilp from some of the others.
I have siven childer livin’, and have had tin. They are very much
scattered: two are abroad; one is in the tinth Hussars--he is kind to
me. The one who allows me ninepence is a basket-maker at Reading; and
the shillin’ I get from my daughter, a servant, sir. One of my sons
died in the Crimmy; he was in the 13th Light Dragoons, and died at
Scutari, on the 25th of May. They could not hilp me more than they thry
to do, sir.
“I only make about two shilling a-week here, sir; and sometimes I
don’t take three ha’pence a day. On Sundays I take about sivenpence,
ninepence, or tinpence, ’cordin’ as I see the people who give rigular.
“Weather makes no difference to me--for, though the sum is small, I am
a rigular pinsioner like of theirs. I go to Somer’s-town Chapel, being
a Catholic, for I’m not ashamed to own my religion before any man. When
I go, it is at siven in the evening. Sometimes I go to St. Pathrick’s
Chapel, Soho-square. I have not been to confission for two or three
years--the last time was to Mr. Stanton, at St. Pathrick’s.
“There’s a poor woman, sir, who goes past here every Friday to get her
pay from the parish, and, as sure as she comes back again, she gives me
a ha’penny--she does, indeed. Sometimes the baker or the greengrocer
gives me a ha’penny for minding their baskets.
“I’m perfectly satisfied; it’s no use to grumble, and I might be worrus
off, sir. Yes, I go of arrinds some times; fitch water now and then,
and post letters; but I do no odd jobs, such as hilping the servants
to clean the knives, or such-like. No: they wouldn’t let me behint the
shadow of their doors.”