Here the omnibus came up, and I rode back to Manchester. The whole conversation took up very little more time than it will take to read it; but I thought it worth recording, as characteristic of the people now suffering in Lancashire from no fault of their own. I know the people well. The greatest number of them would starve themselves to that degree that they would not be of much more physical use in this world, before they would condescend to beg. But starving to death is hard work. What will winter bring to them when severe weather begins to tell upon constitutions lowered in tone by a starvation diet--a diet so different to what they have been used to when in work? What will the 1s. 6d. a-head weekly do for them in that hard time? If something more than this is not done for them, when more food, clothing, and fire are necessary to everybody, calamities may arise which will cost England a hundred times more than a sufficient relief--a relief worthy of those who are suffering, and of the nation they belong to--would have cost. In the meantime the cold wings of winter already begin to overshadow the land; and every day lost involves the lives, or the future usefulness, of thousands of our best population. CHAPTER XXIII. WANDERING MINSTRELS; OR, WAILS OF THE WORKLESS POOR. "For whom the heart of man shuts out, Straightway the heart of God takes in, And fences them all round about With silence, 'mid the world's loud din. And one of his great charities Is music; and it doth not scorn To close the lids upon the eyes Of the weary and forlorn." --JAMES RUSSEL LOWELL.