_Vailima Plantation_, _Upolu_, _Samoa_, _June_ 20_th_, 1892.
SIR,—In reply to your very interesting letter, I cannot fairly say that I
have ever been poor, or known what it was to want a meal. I have been
reduced, however, to a very small sum of money, with no apparent prospect
of increasing it; and at that time I reduced myself to practically one
meal a day, with the most disgusting consequences to my health. At this
time I lodged in the house of a working man, and associated much with
others. At the same time, from my youth up, I have always been a good
deal and rather intimately thrown among the working-classes, partly as a
civil engineer in out-of-the-way places, partly from a strong and, I
hope, not ill-favoured sentiment of curiosity. But the place where,
perhaps, I was most struck with the fact upon which you comment was the
house of a friend, who was exceedingly poor, in fact, I may say
destitute, and who lived in the attic of a very tall house entirely
inhabited by persons in varying stages of poverty. As he was also in
ill-health, I made a habit of passing my afternoon with him, and when
there it was my part to answer the door. The steady procession of people
begging, and the expectant and confident manner in which they presented
themselves, struck me more and more daily; and I could not but remember
with surprise that though my father lived but a few streets away in a
fine house, beggars scarce came to the door once a fortnight or a month.
From that time forward I made it my business to inquire, and in the
stories which I am very fond of hearing from all sorts and conditions of
men, learned that in the time of their distress it was always from the
poor they sought assistance, and almost always from the poor they got it.
Trusting I have now satisfactorily answered your question, which I thank
you for asking, I remain, with sincere compliments,