The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 37, March 13, 1841Various
History
The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 37, March 13, 1841
Various
Ireland -- Periodicals
“What a collocation, not merely of the extremes of human condition, but
of almost every interposed gradation!” thought I, as, sated with the
multiform instances presented in the concourse, and half bewildered
with the medley of sights and sounds--the glittering ostentation of the
glaring shops, the hum and tramp of the jostling crowd, the din and
rattle of ceaseless vehicles, from the lumbering dray to the elastic
carriage, the oft-mingled appeal of importunate mendicants, and, not
least confounding, the sleet-laden and staggering blasts that met me
with wild caprice at almost every corner--I gladly turned aside into
a more sheltered and less frequented street, to pursue a route of
greater ease, though at the expense of a greater circuit. But misery
in the aggregate can generally be encountered with less disturbance
than when submitted to in the case of solitary sufferers; and before I
had proceeded half the length of a private and comparatively deserted
street, I had more effective calls upon my charity--there was at that
time no legal provision for the necessitous--than when passing among the
abounding instances of destitution I had just witnessed. My stock of
small change, and I must add, co-equally therewith, that of my patience
too, was nearly exhausted, when my eye fell upon the figure of a young
lad, who stood indifferently sheltered from the wind under the projected
doorway of an uninhabited house. I had made up my mind to the customary
solicitation: but he seemed so abstracted as not to notice my approach,
and, pitying the forlorn looking youth, and wondering at his forbearance,
I walked slowly past, to give him an opportunity. I found him to be
an organ-player, for the instrument, unslung from his shoulders,
rested upon the flag at his feet, and a brief notice of his collapsed
but characteristic features showed him to be an Italian. A shivering
marmoset, partly covered by his jacket, was lodged on the hollow of one
arm, while the other, resting on his raised knee, supported his head, as,
unconscious of my proximity and observation, he gazed fixedly upon the
ground. The sight of mute personal privation and friendless loneliness
would at such a crisis have been influential enough to stir up whatever
humanity one had, but when witnessed in a stranger from a far land,
in one, too, nurtured under the sapphire skies and blissful clime of
Italy, and withering now by a dismal change beneath such dense and murky
clouds, and such a pitiless and scourging breeze, the demand on one’s
kindly offices was irresistible, and, drawing near to the desolate lad,
I accompanied a small gift with a few words in his own most musical and
thrilling tongue. He started from his musing posture as the electric
syllables struck upon his ear, and, as he gazed with keen enthusiasm
upon me, the blood mantled vividly upon his chilled and weather-wrinkled
cheek, while with grateful but melancholy earnestness he poured out his
thanks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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