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AN IRISH SCENE; OR, TWO DAYS AMONG THE CABINS.

[Extracted from a Private Journal, and now published by particular request.]

[The writer of the articles upon IRELAND would acknowledge, with feelings of deepest gratitude, the receipt of £15 for the benefit of the poor starving Irish, from Jeremiah Smith, Esq., and family, Sussex; also the half of a £5 Note from the Rev. J. W. Gowring, accompanied with a letter, from which an extract is here given :

"When your article from Ireland was read to me, the thought occurred to my mind immediately, to try and raise a sum for the relief of the Irish, to be placed at your disposal. I immediately commenced such a fund myself, and last Sunday evening had a collection at my 'Cathedral,' in Thomas's Street, for this purpose, and we collected £3 10s. 10d., so that altogether, I have now just upon £8, and I hope to increase it to £10 by the end of the week. I send you half of a £5 note, and will send you the other half on hearing of the safe arrival of this. This money is not to be added to any local fund, but to be at your own sole disposal, wherever, whenever, and however, you may be led to employ it under God's blessing, it may gain you entrance into some cottages where you may be able to scatter the true bread of everlasting life; at any rate, I am sure from my own experience, that you will find it useful to have such a fund in reserve, and may the presence of a covenant God, whose blessing alone maketh rich, accompany you in the distribution of it."

Also, the application from the Principal of a large Boarding School, for information by what means contributions may be forwarded. To this inquiry it will be sufficient to state, that any contributions from a penny postage stamp to a £5 or a £10 note, will be most cheerfully received by either the Rev. J. W. Gowring, 6, Hill's Place, Stockwell; John Coe, Esq., of the Bank of England; or Mr. W. H. Collingridge, City Press, 1, Long Lane, London: which amounts will be duly acknowledged on the cover of the GOSPEL MAGAZINE, under the head "IRISH FUND," and immediately forwarded to the writer in question, to be by him dispensed among the poor famishing Irish, in the shape of moderate supplies of meal and soup, as frequently as the funds will allow.]

Called at a number of cottages to-day, all Roman Catholic, with two exceptions, and gave one ticket at each cottage. In one, a poor man

(about thirty) lay swollen to an enormous size with dropsy. The Dispensary surgeon had promised to come this day to "tap" him. In another had much conversation with an old woman, 79 years of age. In another found a poor woman about 30, with two children, and expecting every hour to be confined with a third. Her husband had a few months since gone over to England in quest of work, and the only tidings she had received were that he had been killed on a railroad: thus was she in a state of pitiable uncertainty. As it is almost impossible to call in at an Irish cabin, without other of the neighbours congregating at the door, or coming in, a got-up story is so much the more unlikely. In this case two or three neighbours were present in the cabin, which gave me an opportunity of giving them a few words of counsel collectively, and of rebutting, in the most decided terms, the notion of merit, with which I was so continually assailed. I felt it was a time to attack this strong hold of Popery, urged upon the ground of human works. Quietly as I have endeavoured to keep the fact of my distributing meal-tickets, neither giving my name or address on them, the whole town seems to be apprised of it. Twenty or thirty poot starving women have surrounded the door the greater portion of this day. As I would listen to none without tickets of recommendation from some known tradesman, each has been furnished with such recommendation; and, as a proof of their famished distress, the tradesman told Mr. S― (the Curate) this afternoon, that he had had this day, one hundred applicants for testimonials. Went down to the door this evening and dismissed them, telling them I would see them at their own cabins. Have remarked one fact, as a striking proof of the distress, that in all the cabins I have visited during the time I have been in Ireland, in only two have I seen the least particle of food, or preparation for meals of any kind. In the one exception it was a bit of bread about the size of a child's hand; in the other some mixed meal, or stirabout, as it is called.

Saturday, Dec. 19th.-Poor women were crouched down at the door before day-light this morning, waiting for me to come down. Have been visiting (in company with Mr. S) the whole of this day, until night-fall. Through the kind provision of a dear friend, have been enabled to meet in their cabins the most distressed objects it is possible to describe, and to relieve about forty families who had not had a particle of food, and Sunday before them. The first street (if street it may be called) that we went into, exceeds for filth and wretchedness, the very worst locality I ever ventured into in London. Here my friend had previously selected three or four cases; the first was a poor old dying man, lying in a dark hovel: an old Roman Catholic, who when spoken to upon the concerns of his soul, declared, that nothing weighed with him-neither food nor anything-as did the thoughts of his soul; for that to be prepared to meet its God. He listened with intense interest whilst the simple way of salvation was pointed out; we left with his warmest thanks; and surely poor old Jack Moriarty, the

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town-crier of T—, will not easily pass from my remembrance. The next case in that street was another Roman Catholic-a widow, with (if I recollect right) seven children; a pitiable scene. The third was a Protestant family; an aged sick mother, sitting up by a scanty fire. The daughter's course had been objectionable. My friend admonished. I was pleased to see her fall under the admonition, and acknowledge the kindness that prompted it. The next scene was in an upper room or loft, in which it seemed three or four families lived. The particular object called upon was a woman (evidently somewhat superior), the widow of an upper servant in a nobleman's family. Straw was their bed; a rug their covering; one out of several children sat before us dumb, and the poor woman herself labouring under a far-advanced cancer. Shocking was that scene! Next was another widow in a back hovel—a dark, miserable, stable-place; seven children,—pale, thin, wretched in the extreme; a mere handful of straw in one corner was their bed-place. Yet not a murmur! At the door-way was a cesspool. My astonishment was, that there was no fever bred in that filthy spot. Upon emerging from the wretched abode, we were accosted by a group, half-starving themselves, who besought us to seek the case of a poor man who was disabled from the public works, and they said actually starving! "Twas a touching specimen of generosity. We went. There in another wretched hovellay a once hale, powerful man; nothing had passed his lips for many hours. But oh, the gratitude for this temporary aid! Speaking, doubtless, in his accustomed language, he allowed an oath to pass his lips, as if that were deemed essential to confirm his statement. He took remonstrance kindly—begged pardon—and listened to the simple tidings of salvation. Mark! these are scenes (almost withont exception) in Popish cabins, where the readiest welcome was afforded; and ten times the number we have this day entered might we have had access to, had time and means lasted. Next was a hovel where several families lived (if living I may call it) in one dark room; I should think four families at least-perhaps numbering five-and-twenty souls. The elder of these was sadly ill. Next was a basket-maker's. Of this man we had yesterday ordered a cradle; he had promised it on Monday night, but we found he was so eager for his children's meal, that he sat up the whole of the night, in order to finish it this evening. The next was a case of smaller interest, but above-stairs was another starving family. The man very sick upon his bed. In days of plenty he had drunk, but now he listened to remonstrance, and confessed his folly. It was a touching scene to behold a man of noble frame thus brought down to the meekness of a little child. Next was a kind of lodging-house. The room was filled with beds of straw, on one of which lay a poor half-naked boy, about fifteen years of age. Just a mere rug or rag was his covering, and a shirt! I pass by a number of other cases now, and you may fancy us accosted right and left by a poor famishing group, beseeching us to enter their cabins also. We could only stay them with the promise, that they should be visited in due season, if the funds held

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