LETTER XVIII. THE POOR AND THEIR DWELLINGS. Bene Paupertas Humili tecto contenta latet. Seneca. Omnes quibu' res sunt minu” secundæ, magi' sunt nescio quo modo Suspiciosi: ad contumeliam omnia accipiunt magis; Show not to the Poor thy pride, Let him not one walk behold, That only one which he must tread, Nor a chamber large and cold, Humble sheds of neighbours by, And the old and tattered bed, Where he sleeps and hopes to die. To quit of torpid sluggishness the cave, Thomson's Castle of Indolence. THE POOR AND THEIR DWELLINGS. The Method of treating the Borough Paupers.—Many maintained at their own Dwellings.-Some Characters of the Poor.-The School-mistress, when aged.-The Idiot.—The poor Sailor.-The declined Tradesman and his Companion.—This contrasted with the Maintenance of the Poor in a common Mansion erected by the Hundred.-The Objections to this Method: Not Want, nor Cruelty, but the necessary Evils of this Mode.-What they are. -Instances of the Evil.A Return to the Borough-Poor.-The Dwellings of these.-The Lanes and By-Ways.-No Attention here paid to Convenience.-The Pools in the Path-Ways.Amusements of Sea-port Children.-The Town-Flora.-Herbs on Walls and vacant Spaces.-A Female Inhabitant of an Alley.— A large Building let to several poor Inhabitants.—Their Manners and Habits. LETTER XVIII. THE POOR AND THEIR DWELLINGS. YES! we've our Borough-vices, and I know Our Poor, how feed we ?'-To the most we give A weekly Dole, and at their Homes they live ;Others together dwell,-but when they come To the low Roof, they see a kind of Home, A social People whom they've ever known, With their own Thoughts and Manners like their own. At her old House, her Dress, her Air the same, I see mine antient Letter-loving Dame: "Learning, my Child," said she, "shall Fame com"mand; "Learning is better worth than House or Land For Houses perish, Lands are gone and spent ; “In Learning then excel, for that's most excellent." 'And what her Learning?'-'Tis with awe to look In every Verse throughout one sacred Book? From this her Joy, her Hope, her Peace is sought; This she has learn'd, and she is nobly taught. If aught of mine have gain'd the public Ear; Nor I alone, who hold a trifler's Pen, And feel the pleasing Debt, and pay the just Applause: With her an harmless Idiot we behold, Who hoards up Silver Shells for shining Gold; Near these a Sailor, in that Hut of Thatch That hold his Stores, have room for twice as much : He shows the Shipping, he presents the Glass ; He makes (unask'd) their Ports and Business known, And (kindly heard) turns quickly to his own, Of noble Captains, Heroes every one,- You might as soon have made the Steeple run: And then his Mess-mates, if you 're pleas'd to stay, And as the Story verges to an end He'll wind from Deed to Deed, from Friend to Friend; As Princes gen'rous and as Heroes bold; And splice his Tale :-now take him from his Cot, Here is the poor old Merchant, he declin'd, And, as they say, is not in perfect Mind; |