g for the landlord and his family. He
takes an interest in the dressing of it; and while he assists in
removing the trivet from the fire, he feels that there is such a thing
as beef and cabbage, which he was beginning to forget at home. All
this while he deserts his wife and children. But what wife, and what
children? Prosperous men, who object to this desertion, image to
themselves some clean contented family like that which they go home
to. But look at the countenance of the poor wives who follow and
persecute their good man to the door of the public house, which he
is about to enter, when something like shame would restrain him, if
stronger misery did not induce him to pass the threshold. That face,
ground by want, in which every cheerful, every conversable lineament
has been long effaced by misery,--is that a face to stay at home with?
is it more a woman, or a wild cat? alas! it is the face of the wife
of his youth, that once smiled upon him. It can smile no longer. What
comforts can it share? what burthens can it lighten? Oh, 'tis a fine
thing to talk of the humble meal shared together! But what if there be
no bread in the cupboard? The innocent prattle of his children takes
out the sting of a man's poverty. But the children of the very poor
do not prattle. It is none of the least frightful features in that
condition, that there is no childishness in its dwellings. Poor
people, said a sensible old nurse to us once, do not bring up their
children; they drag them up. The little careless darling of the
wealthier nursery, in their hovel is transformed betimes into a
premature reflecting person. No one has time to dandle it, no one
thinks it worth while to coax it, to soothe it, to toss it up and
down, to humour it. There is none to kiss away its tears. If it cries,
it can only be beaten. It has been prettily said that "a babe is fed
with milk and praise." But the aliment of this poor babe was thin,
unnourishing; the return to its little baby-tricks, and efforts to
engage attention, bitter ceaseless objurgation. It never had a toy,
or knew what a coral meant. It grew up without the lullaby of nurses,
it was a stranger to the patient fondle, the hushing caress, the
attracting novelty, the costlier plaything, or the cheaper off-hand
contrivance to divert the child; the prattled nonsense (best sense
to it), the wise impertinences, the wholesome lies, the apt story
interposed, that puts a stop to present sufferings, and awak