RECOLLECTIONS OF POV tRTY. 169 



fascinating, none sought after with greater avidity or perused with 

 more interest than those which, relating a series of events often strange 

 and apparently unconnected, faithfully pourtray the mysterious ope- 

 rations of the rnind. But the principle of selection (with few excep- 

 tions) seems partial. The rich, the noble, and the wise claim almost 

 exclusively our attention, while those whom fortune has placed in a 

 humble sphere of life are generally consigned to unmerited oblivion. 

 Does this arise from indifference ? Oh no : there are many who 

 take a lively interest in the welfare of the poor, and delight to alle- 

 viate their load of sorrow. Rather, therefore, should it be attributed 

 to a deficiency of that information which, giving truth to a narrative, 

 renders it doubly interesting. 



It has been the fortune of the writer, in pursuit of his professional 

 avocations, to mix much with the poorer classes of society. He has 

 witnessed many a scene of heart-rending sorrow ; he has heard 

 many a tale of incredible suffering and woe. And rising superior to 

 misfortune, and shining with increased lustre amid surrounding ob- 

 scurity, traits of character which would have done honour to the most 

 exalted stations of life, have often called forth his warmest admiration. 

 Embodied in the form of a narrative, the more prominent facts are pre- 

 sented to the public. The recital may be useful. Comparison does 

 much to enhance our enjoyment of that happiness which is derived 

 from mediocrity, and may lead us to lend our aid in lightening the 

 burdens of our poorer brethren. 



It was early in the month of April, on the morning of one of those 

 lovely days which Spring claims peculiarly as her own, and whicli 

 contrasted with the rudeness and turbulence of the past are ten- fold 

 more delightful, that I was preparing for my ordinary routine of 

 business. I was about to leave the house, when a gentle knock at the 

 door was followed by the servant introducing to me a little girl, whose 

 tattered clothes told her humble condition, but her manners arid 

 countenance were strongly indicative of a superior mind. She very 

 modestly curtsied, and in a pleasing, yet plaintive tone, requested me 

 to visit her mother. 



Much pleased with her appearance, I assured her I would call 

 during the day. She thanked me in a few broken words, for her 

 heart seemed full ; but a tear which stood in the corner of her eye 

 conveyed more than language could express. As the message was 

 not urgent I determined to defer my visit till the evening, when I 

 hoped to be able to devote more time to my patient, in whom I felt 

 somewhat interested. 



An unusual pressure of engagements detained me till a late hour, 

 and the morning, which had been warm and fine for the season, was 

 succeeded by a cold and damp evening. It was dark ere I set off, 

 and my patient dwelt in an obscure part of the town, at some distance 

 from my house. I soon found myself in the street to which I had Deen 

 directed. It was almost deserted; a few drops of rain which were 

 falling had driven within-doors the multitudes who usually thronged 

 this thickly populated district, and I had to enquire at several houses 

 before I could obtain information about the person whom I sough 1. 

 At last I accosted an elderly woman, who directed me to a miserable 



