THE HUMORIST.

CHARITY.

"Wrapt in my virtue and a good surtout."-GAY: Trivia.

Ar public dinners for the benefit of charitable institutions every one must have observed that the applause which follows the announcement of a donation is nicely proportioned to its amount. Thus: "Mr. White, one guinea!" is acknowledged by a scarcely audible tap on the table by the tip of the fore-finger. "Mr. Brown, one guinea!" the same. "Mr. Green, five guineas!" (announced with a marked emphasis on the "five") and there is a clattering of spoons and knife-handles. But for "Alderman Phigs, TEN guineas!" fists are brought into requisition, and the tables are thumped till the enraptured glasses and decanters skip and dance about in very ecstacy. "Mr. Black, one pound!" comes as a charm, like oil thrown upon the troubled waters, and suddenly the enthusiastic clamour subsides into the gentle tapping of the fore-finger.

Now, considering that, in all these cases, the motive that prompts the act is one and the same, namely, Charity considering, also, that the guinea of Mr. White, and the pound of Mr. Black, may be equal, or more than equal, to the ten guineas of Mr. Alderman Phigs, in proportion to their respective means; is it not ungenerous, is it not unjust, to stigmatize, as it were, by such sordid distinctions, the humbler contribution of the less affluent man? Time was, when, in the innocency of my heart, I thought so; when I fondly believed that Mr. White with his one guinea donation, no less than Mr. Alderman Phigs with his ten, was an incarnation of benevolence unalloyed; and that upon all the occasions, and in all the cases, in question, the motive, sole and simple, that quickened the liberality of the contributors was charity. Alas! and alas! for the beautiful mistakes of youth and inexperience! One by one are we forced to part with them as payment for the purchase of wicked, worldly wisdom; yet, as if our little stock would not be soon enough exhausted by the slow, but certain, operation of this hard and heartless traffic, we are now so Penny-Tutor'd, so Penny-Cyclopædia'd into premature sapience, that ere long not a pleasing illusion will remain to beguile the imagination even of a child.

Far

Amongst the many agreeable errors which unrelenting Experience has thus dispelled, and the place of which she has inhumanly supplied with nothing but a quantity of fact-fact at once useless and uncomfortableis this, concerning the motive that incites to donations in public. be it from me to assert, what truly I do not believe, that pure charity has never anything to do with these matters. On the contrary, I am satisfied that in nine cases out of ten the motive that impels the hand into that sanctum sanctorum, the pocket, is charity. The exceptions, however

-the remaining one case in every ten-are sufficient for the purpose of showing that, however objectionable in point of taste may be the practice I have noticed, it is, in its consequences, greatly beneficial to the objects in whose behalf it is exercised. Upon a recent occasion, of which I was a witness, it was four guineas clear gain to the "A----'s Benevolent Fund."

At the last anniversary dinner for the benefit of that excellent institution, I was placed next to Mr. —, a distinguished member of the profession in aid of which the fund had been established. We were seated at the cross-table, nearly facing Lord ——, the president for the day. As we were already acquainted with each other, though but slightly, we soon fell into easy conversation. Amongst other topics, the occasion which had brought us together was prominent. "This is a fine charity," said Mr. and deserves the support of the public. It is delightful to reflect that when members of my profession are overtaken by age, or sickness, or infirmity, and are thus rendered incapable of exercising their powers for their own support; it is delightful to reflect, I say, that they have then this invaluable institution to fall back upon. I have contributed my mite to it, my annual guinea, for the last seven years; though, heaven knows, I am not likely, thank heaven! ever to require assistance from it myself. No, thank heaven! I have been industrious and frugal; and, between ourselves, had all my brethren followed my example, there had been no need for this periodical call upon the public, this drain upon the pockets of the more prudent members of the profession."

"That you have exercised those qualities," said I," is greatly to your credit. At your outset in your career you made a fortunate hit, which brought you into notice: you were patronized, and employment followed: finding employment, you were industrious of prudent habits, you economized the fruits of your industry. Nothing could be more exemplary. But it was not for such as you, who are at once fortunate and wise, that institutions like the present were contemplated. They were designed to remedy the accidents of life, and, in the true spirit of charity, redress even the infirmities of poor human nature. Mark me well! I do not mean to advocate the cause of idleness or of thoughtless extravagance; but how is he to be industrious who is unfurnished with employment? and, as non-occupation is unproductive, from what in-comings is he to lay by a fund for the wants of a future day? You, my dear Sir, are, in the words of Gay, 'wrapt in your virtue;' but (of course, not intending to apply the remainder of the quotation to you)"-[I did, though; for I was disgusted with the meanness and the arrogant self-gratulation which peeped through his professions of charity,]-" but how many are there whose virtue would stand them in but little stead, were they not comfortably wrapt also in 'a good surtout ?' '

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"True," said he, "very true; and that is why I subscribe to this charity. It is useful-eminently useful! It enables one to do a world of good! Though, like you, I am no advocate of idleness, my heart bleeds at a tale of distress, by whatever cause the distress may be produced; and I do all in my power, small as are my means, to alleviate it. It was only the other day that poor S-called at my house. Owing to an inflammation of the eyes he had been unable to do anything for six weeks. He complained that he and his wife were in great distress,

and asked me to lend him a guinea. I could not do that, for the claims upon me which I must comply with are, I do assure you, beyond belief. Besides, I am, as I said, an annual subscriber of a guinea to this fund, which is intended to meet cases like his. One cannot do it both ways. I, therefore, did what I thought best, and, indeed, all I was able to do for him, poor fellow! After gently remonstrating with him upon his improvidence in not having made some reserve out of his earnings, for a casualty of this kind, I gave him a very pressing letter in his behalf to the secretary of this institution; and I hope-sincerely hope-it has been useful to him, poor fellow! Ah! this is, indeed, an admirable charity!" "This is economising the heavenly virtue with a vengeance!" thought I. 66 Charity covereth a multitude of sins; but the sins of my acquaintance here must be few indeed, or I doubt whether the scanty garment which, at the moderate outlay of one-pound-one, he annually provides for them, will quite serve for their concealment."

"I have sometimes thought," said I, resuming the conversation, 66 that if, instead of paying a guinea for an execrable dinner, and wine more execrable still, we were to contribute that guinea as an additional gift to the fund, whatever it might be, we should thereby promote its interest, and consult one's own comfort at the same time. But, on the other hand, it must be considered how many there are who attend meetings of this kind simply as a matter of curiosity or of amusement: who are not amongst the regular subscribers to the particular institution : who, perhaps, know little and care less concerning its objects: but are attracted thither by the opportunity of staring at the President (if he be an eminent man) and hearing him speak; or by the announcement that Prince Mirza-Sham-Shoo has signified his intention of being present in his splendid native costume; or that Mr. Somebody has kindly consented to disgust the company by jumping Jim Crow on the table.* But for such an expedient, therefore, as a public dinner, all such accidental contributors would be lost. The same thing may be said with respect to charity-sermons. The Deaf-and-Dumb Asylum (for instance) is equally deserving of support, whether the sermon in its behalf be preached by one of the ordinary ministers of such-or-such a church, or by the celebrated Doctor, or the Bishop of ; yet the receipts at the church doors would show, I apprehend, with unquestionable distinctness, whether the sermon had been preached by the Bishop or the Curate. On these occasions, again, the holder of the plate will greatly influence the amount of contributions; and I have known a pretty woman to smile half a sovereign out of the identical purse, from which the fat vestryman would hardly have extorted half a crown."

"With respect to public dinners," said Mr. "you are right. By public dinners, I mean this one in particular, for I never go to any other: I subscribe to no other institution. Let every one look to his own, is my maxim; and if every body were to attend strictly to that,

*JIM CROW. I take this opportunity to record my contempt for the taste of that portion of the public, whether the lowest of the low, or the lowest of the high, who could nightly flock in crowds, not only to witness, but to applaud, an exhibition of buffoonery given under that name, which was at once stupid, senseless, and disgusting. The metropolis is, for the present, rid of it; and I trust the vulgar nuisance will never again be allowed to disgrace and degrade any stage in London pretending to higher claims to respectability than a booth in Bartholomew Fair.-JOHN POOLE.

Aug.-VOL. L. NO. CC.

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much more good would be done in the world than is done. As you say, they are useful, else one might just as well save one's guinea; for, for my part, I take no pleasure in this sort of thing; and, as for the dinner, I can dine much better at home for half-a-crown. But they are useful— they sometimes make connexions."

"Make connexions!" exclaimed I. "What mean you by making

connexions ?"

"Why,” replied he, "I mean that one sometimes meets with people one might not otherwise have encountered, and thus a stray commission may fall in one's way. I have received four or five in this very room upon different occasions of this kind. That is my motive for coming here. I do everything upon calculation; and, between ourselves, I have a great card to play to-day. You may think it strange, but" (and this he added with a look of profound knowingness) "I never give a shilling but in the hope of getting five by it."

I made no reply; and a pause ensued. What his great card might be I did not inquire. I apprehend, however, that in this brief interval my countenance must have assumed an expression indicative of what was passing in my mind, and that that was not quite satisfactory to my companion; for thus he resumed :-

"My principle is the true one, though, rely upon it. There is much wisdom in the old saying, that charity begins at home.' We must look to Number One in the first instance, or we should never be able to assist Number Two. If I had not been, as I said before, industrious, and pains-taking, and cautious, and careful of my money, as I have been, thank Heaven! why, instead of being a contributor to this admirable fund, as I am, thank Heaven! I might have been a claimant upon it. Aye, aye; cold-blooded maxim as you may consider it, be assured that true charity begins at home."

"That there is much of general truth in what you say, I am willing to admit," replied I; "but the subject is one which I do not like to see treated upon cold calculation, or adjusted by line and rule. Now, to take your own case, and upon your own showing, I think,” (added I, at the same time forcing a laugh) "I think that you, Mr. -, might afford to be a little more profligate than you are, without becoming a much worse member of society. As for that charity which so cautiously begins at home, I fear that it is apt to acquire such a habit of domesticity as to render it irksome to it to pay an occasional visit abroad, Fortunately, however, for the poor and the destitute there is an institution, supported by involuntary contributions, which forces that housekeeping lady to show her head out of doors."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr.

"The poor's rates."

66 Aye-true," said

;"indeed! and what may that be?"

; "the poor's rates-true. In my parish, now, the poor's rates are tremendously heavy, terrifically, awfully! And, yet, what I give away in private charity is unknown."

"To anybody," thought I.

And, which is still worse, that being subjected, as we are, to that heavy tax, one is not protected by it against the nuisance of streetbeggars. To them I never give-I make that a rule. Don't you?"

"I do-but with occasional exceptions. One sometimes meets with a case of unquestionable distress.”

"Psha!" exclaimed'

; "in any case it is mistaken charity.

In a

To relieve street-beggars were to encourage vice and idleness. country like this, Sir, where such fine provision is made for the poor, where parochial relief may be obtained, where we have a Mendicity Society instituted purposely to prevent street-begging, no one need be in distress."

"Nor would they if they could help it, I suppose."

"They need not beg if they would work.”

"Always supposing they could find employment. But to return to my exception, the case of unquestionable distress-unquestionable, I mean, so far as the appearance of the mendicant, his story, and one's own judgment (and I would almost rather that, upon such a point, the judgment should be from the heart than the head) can lead to an opinion. I see a poor creature-a woman, Mr. , a woman-at night-bare-footed, bare-headed, the rags about her person insufficient to cover her, crouching and shivering under such shelter as one of the alcoves of Westminster Bridge can afford her against the snow and the sleet. I may not remind her that if she had not rejected the employment which had been offered to her (I am supposing thus much), or that if she had not squandered the whole of the liberal remuneration of twelve shillings a week which she had received from Madame des Ruches, the fashionable milliner, for working the flesh off her fingers from six of the morning till ten at night, she need not have been starving on Westminster Bridge. No: in the first place this is no time for such a reminder; and, in the next, if you will not allow me to relieve, you take from me the right to remonstrate. 'No preachee and floggee too, Massa!' But I ask her, in the blandest tone imaginable, why she does not go home, instead of lying, on a stormy night, upon a cold bridge? She tells me she has no home to go to. I next ask her why, 'in a country like this where such fine provision is made for the poor,' she does not go to her parish? She replies that her parish is in the North Riding of Yorkshire. I then inquire why she does not apply for relief to the Mendicity Society, as she ought to do, instead of begging in the streets-a course which is highly improper? She faintly answers that the house of that excellent society is three miles off, and that, anhungred and benumbed with cold, she cannot crawl so far. Now, Mr. though I am as little disposed as you are to encourage vice and idleness,' I ask you what I ought to do in a case like this, which, let me assure you, is neither exaggerated nor rare ?"

Why, Sir, a hundred to one the woman is an impostor."

"Long odds, Mr.. However-granted. And what then?" "What then! Why, if you give to impostors you do encourage vice and idleness, and, by so doing, act in opposition to the best interests of society." "As a rule, I admit it; but I am taking an exception."

"Well, then; for the exception: you are laughed at by the very object of your mistaken charity."

"Granted. And what then? We do not, like the benevolent man in a sentimental comedy, give a well-filled purse, or a pocket-book crammed with bank-notes, to the first beggar we meet with: the relief afforded in such cases, by the most charitable, or the most gullible of us, seldom exceeds a few halfpence. Now, Sir, is it not better to run the risk of being laughed at for a dupe, by an artful, designing woman,