“My dear brother,--I take this opportunity of writing you, as you
wrote that you would like to have a letter from me. I am very sorry
you have been ill, but I hope you are keeping better. I trust also
that affliction will be the means of leading you only more closely to
the only true source of happiness. Oh, my dear brother, you are still
young, and God has told us in His word, that those who seek Him early
shall find Him. My dear brother, we get many a sad and solemn warning
to prepare to meet our God: and oh! my dear brother, ‘what is a man
profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?’”
The last letter was dated the 5th of December last, and from his
brother:--
“We received your kind letter,” it ran, “this instant, and we hasten
to answer it. It has given my mother and me great relief to hear from
you, as my mother and I were very miserable about you, thinking you
were ill. We trust you will take care of yourself, and not get any
more cold. We hope you will be able to write on receipt of this, and
let us know how you are, and when we may expect you home, as we have
daily expected you since the month of October.”
These letters were shown to me at my request, and not produced by the
young man himself, so that it was evident they were kept by the youth
with no view of being used by him as a means of inducing charity;
indeed, the whole manner of the young man was such as entirely
precluded suspicion. On my asking whether he had any other credentials
as to character, he showed me a letter from a Scotch minister, stating
that “he had been under his charge, and that from his conduct he
had been led to form a favourable opinion of his talents and moral
character; and that he believed him to be a deserving, industrious
young man.”
* * * * *
Of the class of distressed tradesmen seeking shelter at this asylum,
the two following may be taken as fair types. One was a bankrupt
linendraper, and appeared in a most destitute state. When he spoke of
his children, his eyes flooded with tears:--
“I have been in business in the linen-drapery line--that’s five years
ago. I had about 600_l._ worth of stock at first starting, and used
to take about 65_l._ every week. My establishment was in a country
village in Essex. I went on medium well for the first two or three
years, but the alteration of the poor-laws and the reduction of the
agricultural labourers’ wages destroyed my business. My customers
were almost all among the working classes. I had dealings with a few
farmers, of whom I took butter, and cheese, and eggs, in exchange for
my goods. When the poor-laws were altered, the out-door relief was
stopped, and the paupers compelled to go inside the house. Before
that, a good part of the money given to the poor used to be expended
at my shop. The overseers used to have tickets for flannels, blankets,
and shirtings, and other goods; with these they used to send the
paupers to my house. I used to take full 8_l._ or 10_l._ a-week in
this manner; so that when the poor-laws were altered, and the previous
system discontinued, I suffered materially. Besides, the wages of
the agricultural labourers being lowered, left them less money to
lay out with me. On a market-day they were my chief customers. I
would trust them one week under the other, and give them credit for
7_s._ or 10_s._, if they wanted it. After their wages came down, they
hadn’t the means of laying out a sixpence with me; and where I had
been taking 65_l._ a-week, my receipts dwindled to 30_l._ I had been
in the habit of keeping two shopmen before, but after the reduction
I was obliged to come down to one. Then the competition of the large
houses in other towns was more than I could stand against. Having a
larger capital, they could buy cheaper, and afford to take a less
profit, and so of course they could sell much cheaper than I could.
Then, to try and keep pace with my neighbours, I endeavoured to extend
my capital by means of accommodation bills, but the interest I had
to pay on these was so large, and my profits so little, that it soon
became impossible for me to meet the claims upon me. I was made a
bankrupt. My debts at the time were 300_l._ This is about six years
ago. After that I took a public-house. Some property was left me. I
came into about 1000_l._; part of this went to my creditors, and I
superseded my bankruptcy. With the rest I determined upon starting in
the publican line. I kept at this for about ten months, but I could do
nothing with it. There was no custom to the house. I had been deceived
into taking it. By the time I got out of it all my money was gone.
After that I got a job as a referee at the time of the railway mania,
and when that was over, I got appointed as a policeman on the Eastern
Union line. There I remained two years and upwards, but then they
began reducing their establishment, both in men and in wages. I was
among the men who were turned off. Since that time, which is now two
years this Christmas, I have had no constant employment. Occasionally
I have got a little law-writing to do; sometimes I have got a job as
under-waiter at a tavern. After I left the waiter’s place, I got to be
very badly off. I had a decent suit of clothes to my back up to that
time, but then I became so reduced, I was obliged to go and live in a
low lodging-house in Whitechapel. I was enabled to get along somehow;
I know many friends, and they gave me a little money now and then. But
at last I had exhausted these. I could get nothing to do of any kind.
I have been to Shoreditch-station to try to pick up a few pence at
carrying parcels, but there were so many there that I could not get
a crust that way. I was obliged to pawn garment after garment to pay
for my food and lodging; and when they were all gone, I was wholly
destitute. I couldn’t even raise twopence for a night’s lodging, so
I came here and asked for a ticket. My wife is dead. I have three
children; but I would rather you would not say anything about them, if
you please.”
I assured the man that his name should not be printed, and he then
consented to his children being mentioned.
“The age of my eldest child is fourteen, and my youngest nine. They do
not know of the destitution of their father. They are staying with one
of my relations, who has supported them since my failure. I wouldn’t
have them know of my state on any account. None of my family are aware
of my misery. My eldest child is a girl, and it would break her heart
to know where I am, and see the state of distress I am in. My boy, I
think, would never get over it. He is eleven years old. I have tried to
get work at carrying placard-boards about, but I can’t. My clothes are
now too bad for me to do anything else. I write a good hand, and would
do anything, I don’t care what, to earn a few pence. I can get a good
character from every place I have been in.”