 .4810.] 
‘ 
Does your eldest child get any thing at 
the manufactory? 
She’s yet too young; and if she were 
old enough, they’ve hothing now to do. 
But how is it that the manufactories 
have nothing to do? 
Lord bless you, it’s this here war, and 
the paper money, that’s all our ruin, as 
one may say. . 
But what have you at Mitcham to do 
with the war? 
T can’t tell exactly how it is, but these 
here taxes runs away with the money of 
the gentry; and then Bony has got all 
the guineas and seveneshiiling pieces, 
I hav’n’t seen a seven-shilling piece these 
many months. The Jews took care of 
them. The people too that makes the 
paper-money, buys up every thing, and 
makes every thing so mortal dear, that 
@ poor man can’t live. 
How do you know that bank-notes 
make things-dear? 
I only knows that people comes from 
Lunnun with pockets full of bank-notes, 
as they call’em, and buys up every thing, 
even the calves in the cows’ bellies, the 
eges before they are laid,and domm ’em! 
even the corn and hay before it is cut, 
The poor have good cause to domm them 
there bank-notes. . 
Well but, wages of labour increase 
with other things. How long have 
Jabouring men got so much as 18s. a 
week? 
Aye, but then when we got hut 12s, a 
week, the loaf was but 6d. instead of 
igd., and a pluck could be had for 6d, 
and now I am forced to give 20d, and 
every thing else is double; and mayhap, 
as now, one can’t always get work. 
How long have you been out of work? 
A. fortnight, aud I have not a penny 
in my pocket, nor have had for several 
days. 
How then do you keep your family? 
We runs tick—-the haker lets us have 
a loaf now and then, and we get a bushel 
er two of potatoes, and pays ’em when 
we can.—Lord have mercy on us! T don’t 
know what we shall do this here winter. 
Well but you hepe to get work? ~ 
Aye, sir, there’s none to be had at 
Mitcham. I’ve tried every body, and 
those who used to keep two or three, 
Jabourers, say they’ve no money, and 
employ none, or only one. I’m going to 
_ Battersea, where I’m told there’s some 
ditching—it’s nasty work, but a poor man 
must ’nt he nice, as they say. 
Wel, bu as you are going so far, if 
don’t get a job, they will give you 
On- Poultry and their Diseases, 
Pde 
e 
403. 
some broken victuals if you tell yonr 
case, 
’*Evad, sir, I never finds people so fond 
of giving away; many of your gentry will 
sooner give their broken victuals to their - 
dovs, than to a poor man, 
Well, but what will you do when you 
grow older, and can’t work so well as you 
do now? 
[ never thinks about that; but I sup- 
pose | must then take to the workhouse, 
as others do. 
This honest fellow had now arrived at 
a place where a parting of the road was 
to separate us. He modestly wished me 
a good day; but my fellow-traveller had 
too much interested me, for me to let him 
go without half-a-crown. On putting it 
into~his hand, his eyes sparkled with joy, 
and he told me he would try for the job, 
then hasten backand bey a pluck for dame 
and the cliidren, as they hadn’t eat a bit 
of meat fora fortnight!!! 
This, reader, is a plain uavarnished 
tale, in which 1 have done my best to 
recollect the exact phraseology of this 
industrious, decent, and well-disposed, 
fellow. Read it yechildren of opulence,— 
who revel in luxury—-who think and know 
little of the privations of the poor—who 
sometimes wonder at their discontents— 
who make exclamations on the happiness — 
of cottages—who often treat the poor as 
unreasonably dissatisfied, and as. exorbis 
tant in their pretensions! 
The portrait requires no commentary of 
mine—no artificial appeal to your feels 
ings! Dwell upon it and remember it! 
Let it sink into your hearts; and influe 
ence your future practices! | 
Oct. 28. 1810. Common Sense, 
To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. ~ 
SIR, 
I AVING been for a number of years 
a | practically conversant in poultry, 
and during some, a large breeder, besides 
heing a doctor in my own defence; 4 
shall presume, without delay or hin. 
drance of business, to inform your Mids 
diesex correspondent how to cure the 
roup in fowls: which is, ta wring their 
necks, prob. est. 
Now, sir, in all human probability, 
your correspondent was already apprised 
of this remedy, so that Ihave thus far 
told him nothing new. Let me try 
again. Perhaps the cause of the disease 
may be a novelty to him, as I have no 
doubt. it has been generally ta thos 
who have wuitten the valuable thing. . 
ee called. 
i 
