The four are
seated side by side on the floor, leaning against the wall,
waiting for - death.
Bedsteads, chairs, table, and looms
have been burnt this week or more for fuel. The grate is
empty now, and lets the freezing draught blow down the
chimney. The temporary relief is accepted, but not with
thanks. These four stubbornly prefer death to the work-
house.
One other case. It is the same hard winter. The scene: a
small garret in the roof, a low slanting little skylight, now
covered six inches deep in snow. No fireplace here, no
ventilation, so put your scented cambric to your nose, my
noble Dives. The only furniture a scanty armful of - what
shall we call it? It was straw once. A starving woman and a
baby are lying on it, notwithstanding. The baby surely will
not be there to-morrow. It has a very bad cold - and the
mucus, and the - pah! The woman in a few rags - just a few -
is gnawing a raw carrot. The picture is complete. There's
nothing more to paint. The rest - the whole indeed, that is
the consciousness of it - was, and remains, with the Unseen.
You will say, 'Such things cannot be'; you will say, 'There
are relieving officers, whose duty, etc., etc.' May be. I
am only telling you what I myself have seen. There is more
goes on in big cities than even relieving officers can cope
with.
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