churchwardens to take care of the children; and they, when they came, took the youngest, which was born in this parish, and have got it a very good nurse, and taken care of it; but as for the other four, they had sent them away to some of their father's relations, and who were very substantial people, and who, besides that, lived in the parish where they were born.'
'I was not so surprised at this as not presently to foresee that this trouble would be brought upon you, or upon Mr —; so I came immediately to bring word of it, that you might be prepared for it, and might not be surprised; but I see they have been too nimble for me, so that I know not what to advise. The poor woman, it seems, is turned out of doors into the street; and another of the neighbours there told me, that when they took her children from her she swooned away, and when they recovered her out of that, she ran distracted, and is put into a madhouse by the parish, for there is nobody else to take any care of her.'
This was all acted to the life by this good, kind, poor creature; for though her design was perfectly good and charitable, yet there was not one word of it true in fact; for I was not turned out of doors by the landlord, nor gone distracted. It was true, indeed, that at parting with my poor children I fainted, and was like one mad when I came to myself and found they were gone; but I remained in the house a good while after that, as you shall hear.
While the poor woman was telling this dismal story, in came the gentle woman's husband, and, though her heart was hardened against all pity, who was really and nearly related to the children, for they were the children of her own brother, yet the good man was quite softened with the dismal relation of the circumstances of the family; and when the poor woman had done, he said to his wife, 'This is a dismal case, my dear, indeed, and something must be done.' His wife fell a-raving at him: 'What', says she, 'do you want to have four children to keep? Have we not children of our own? Would you have these brats come and eat up my children's bread? No, no, let 'em go to the parish, and let them take care of them; I'll take care of my own.'
'Come, come, my dear', says the husband, 'charity is a duty to the poor, and he that gives to the poor lends to the Lord; let us lend our heavenly Father a little of our children's bread, as you call it; it will be a store well laid up for them, and will be the best security that our children shall never come to want charity, or be turned out of doors, as these poor innocent creatures are.'
'Don't tell me of security', says the wife, 'tis a good security for our children to keep what we have together, and provide for them, and then 'tis time enough to help keep other folks' children. Charity begins at home.'
'Well, my dear', says he again, 'I only talk of putting out a little money to interest; our Maker is a good borrower; never fear making a bad debt there, child, I'll be bound for it.'
'Dont banter me with your charity and your allegories', says the wife angrily; 'I tell you they are my relations, not yours, and they shall not roost here; they shall go to the parish.'
'All your relations are my relations now', says the good gentleman very calmly, 'and I won't see your relations in distress, and not pity them, any more than I would my own; indeed, my dear, they shan't go to the parish. I assure you, none of my wife's relations shall come to the parish, if I can help it'
’What! will you take four children to keep?' says the wife.
