Stranica 133 [133]
93
“Hard, indeed, majam," replied the
beadle. " Anti-porochial weather this,
ma’am. We have given away, Mrs. Cor¬
ney,—we have given away a matter of
twenty quartern loaves, and a cheese and
a half, this very blessed afternoon; and
yet them paupers are not contented.”
“Of course not. When would they
be, Mr. Bumble ?” said the matron, sipping
her tea.
“ When, indeed, ma’am!” rejoined Mr.
Bumble. “Why, here’s one man that,
in consideration of his wife and large
family, has a quartern loaf and a good
pound of cheese, full weight. Is he
grateful, ma’am,—is he grateful? Nota
copper farthing’s worth of it! What
does he do, ma’am, but ask for a few coals,
if it’s only a pocket-handkerchief full, he
says! Coals!—what would he do with
coals '—T'oast his cheese with "em, and
then come back for more. That’s the
way with these people, ma’am ;—give "em
a apron full of coals to-day, and they ’ll
come back for another the day after to¬
morrow, as brazen as alabaster !”
The matron expressed her entire con¬
currence in this intelligible simile, and
the beadle went on.
6 [ never,” said Mr. Bumble, “see any¬
thing like the pitch it’s gotto. The day
afore yesterday, a man—you have been a
married woman, ma’am, and I may men¬
tion it to you—a man, with hardly a rag
upon his back, (here Mrs. Corney looked
at the floor,) goes to our overseer’s door
when he has got company coming to din¬
ner, and says he must be relieved, Mrs.
Corney. As he wouldn’t go away, and
shocked the company very much, our
overseer sent him out a pound of potatoes
and half a pint of oatmeal. "My God!
says the ungrateful villain, ‘ what’s the
use of this to me? You might as well
give me a pair of iron spectacles.’—* Very
good,’ says our overseer, taking ’em away
again, ‘ you won’t get anything else here.’
—‘ Then I 711 die in the streets ! says the
vagrant.—* Oh no, you wo’nt,’ says our
overseer.”
like Mr. Grannet, wasn’t it ?’ interposed
the matron. ‘“ Well, Mr. Bumble ?”
“ Well, ma’am,” rejoined the beadle,
“he went away, and did die in the streets.
There ’s a obstinate pauper for you !”
“It beats anything I could have be¬
lieved !” observed the matron emphatical¬
ly. “ But don’t you think out-of-door re¬
lief a very bad t
sc Mrs. Corney,” said the beadle, smil¬
ing as men smile who are conscious of
superior information, “ out-of-door relief,
properly managed,—properly managed,
ma’am,—is the porochial safe-guard. The
great principle of out-of-door relief is to
give the paupers exactly what they don’t
want, and then they get tired of coming.”
6 Dear me!” exclaimed Mrs. Corney.
c Well, that is a good one, too!”
‘Yes, Betwixt you and me, ma’am,”
returned Mr. Bumble, “that’s the great
principle ; and that’s the reason why, if
you look at any cases that get into them
owdacious newspapers, you "11 always ob¬
serve that sick families have been reliev¬
ed with slices of cheese. That’s the
rule now, Mrs. Corney, all over the coun¬
try.—But, however,” said the beadle,
stooping to unpack his bundle, “ these are
official secrets, ma’am ; not to be spoken
of except, as | may say, among the poro¬
chial officers such as ourselves. ‘This is
the port wine, ma’am, that the board or¬
dered for the infirmary,—real fresh, gen¬
uine port wine, only out of the cask this
afternoon,—clear as a bell, and no sedi¬
ment.”
Having held the first bottle up to the
hight, and shaken it well to test its excel¬
lence, Mr. Bumble placed them both on
the top of a chest of drawers, folded the
handkerchief in which they had been
wrapped, put it carefully in his pocket,
and took up his hat as if to go.
“You “ll have a very cold walk, Mr.
Bumble,” said the matron.
“It blows, ma’am,” replied Mr. Bum¬
ble, turning up his coat-collar, “ enough
to cut one’s ears off.”
The matron looked from the little ket¬
tle to the beadle, who was moving to¬
wards the door ; and as the beadle cough¬
ed, preparatory to bidding her good-night,
bashfully inquired whether—whether he
wouldn’t take a cup of tea?
Mr. Bumble instantaneously turned
back his collar again, laid his hat and
stick upon a chair, and drew another
chair up to the table. As he slowly seat¬
ed himself, he looked at the lady: she
fixed her eyes upon the little teapot.
Mr. Bumble coughed again, and slightly
smiled.
Mrs. Corney rose to get another cup
and saucer from the closet. As she sat
down, her eyes once again encountered
those of the gallant beadle; she coloured,
and applied herself to the task of making
his tea. Again Mr. Bumble coughed,—
and ought to know. Come.”