13'2 THE BAWN VONK. 



also. For the former there might, before the spread of newspapers, 

 have been some necessity, for your idler is always a newsmonger. 

 The latter, the poor idiot, that blot upon creation, that human being 

 from whom reason is extracted and some galvanic power as it were 

 substituted to direct his helpless motions, may he too more seldom be 

 encountered, according as medical science advances and medical aid 

 becomes within reach of the poor at the critical moment, when the 

 being is to be launched into the stormy world, a weak and frail ves- 

 sel, without other compass than the hand of charity, or strong and ro- 

 bust in his own might to meet the trials which are before him. Have 

 you ever, reader, entered an Irish town at sun-rise? If you have, 

 as a matter of course, you have been surrounded by a host of beggars, 

 who at that hour awaited your arrival. Many had nothing to mark 

 them out beyond the usual characteristics of wretchedness: helpless 

 old women, some bold and hardy, others subdued and repining ; then 

 there was the mother with twins ; the active, vigorous young wo- 

 man, or the emaciated, yet sinewy man, for whom neither the law nor 

 the demands of the country for labour have provided either sustenance 

 or the means of earning it. Mingled in the group, or perhaps with 

 the involuntary homage that the heart pays to age, advanced beyond 

 the rest, is the blind old man ; his white head uncovered in an unna- 

 tural humility, the wind sporting with locks which might have added 

 beauty to the likeness of an apostle. All this grouping may be seen 

 perhaps in any country where the law respects so much the unbound- 

 ed superfluities of the rich as to leave the poor without any claim 

 upon a useless abundance. But in Ireland there are to be found two 

 peculiar characters. The first is somewhat advanced in life ; he 

 wears either a huntsman's or the remains of a soldier's cap, with 

 a coat of faded scarlet, which, like the cap, belonged once to a hero 

 of the field or the camp. His corduroy smallclothes, girt round the 

 middle with the cheapest and most convenient band that could be had, 

 are open at the knees. The legs are bare, bronzed, and well formed. 

 With a beard of a week's growth, and whiskey in his eye, he advances, 

 and all claims for eleemosynary relief are suspended while he favours 

 the stranger with a jig or a song. You are puzzled to decide whe- 

 ther this creature be more rogue or fool; it is possible that he has 

 always been an eccentric unsteady being, that gifted with some na- 

 tural skill about dogs, or extraordinary pedestrian powers, has been 

 flattered or indulged into an abhorrence of steady pursuits. A favo- 

 rite everywhere, his humour is at length made subservient to his sub- 

 sistence, while his wild animal spirits, too powerfully excited by whis- 

 key, may have soared a little too near the moon, so that,without being 

 positively mad, he is expressively termed cracked. It might be ex- 

 pected that such a one would be viewed with a jealous eye, as one 

 likely to outshine all other claimants upon your bounty, as a mono- 

 polist in the trade of beggary ; and yet it is not so. He is flattered 

 and encouraged by the surrounding crowd et Jack, give his honour 

 a touch of the ram" some favourite song. Jack, give this, Jack, 

 give that, until you are overwhelmed with so many gifts, that you 

 must give something yourself in return. Now there is reason in all 

 this. You are first put in good humour with one beggaryou are 



