Fred became grave as he
spoke.
"Where have you seen such poor wretches, Tom?" he asked, with a look of
interest.
"In the cities, the civilized cities of our own Christian land. If you
have ever walked about the streets of some of these cities before the
rest of the world was astir, at gray dawn, you must have seen them
shivering along and scratching among the refuse cast out by the tenants
of the neighbouring houses. O Fred, Fred! in my professional career,
short though it has been, I have seen much of these poor old women, and
many others whom the world never sees on the streets at all,
experiencing a slow, lingering death by starvation, and fatigue, and
cold. It is the foulest blot on our country that there is no sufficient
provision for the _aged poor_."
"I have seen those old women too," replied Fred, "but I never thought
very seriously about them before."
"That's it--that's just it; people don't _think_, otherwise this
dreadful state of things would not continue. Just listen _now_, for a
moment, to what I have to say. But don't imagine that I'm standing up
for the poor in general. I don't feel--perhaps I'm wrong," continued Tom
thoughtfully--"perhaps I'm wrong--I hope not--but it's a fact, I don't
feel much for the young and the sturdy poor, and I make it a rule
_never_ to give a farthing to _young_ beggars, not even to little
children, for I know full well that they are sent out to beg by idle,
good-for-nothing parents.
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