Thus every person among the lower classes in Naples, who has any disease, or infirmity, or malformation of any kind, considers it a treasure, and comes out into the street to exhibit it to all beholders, as a means of gaining money. No imagination can conceive more shocking and disgusting spectacles than those which the police of Naples allow to be brought up right before every lady or gentleman who attempts to take a walk in the streets. These sights meet you at every turn. Even if you take a carriage, you do not escape from them; for the beggars crowd around the carriage when you get into it, at the door of the hotel, and watch for it there when you come back. And when you stop on the way to go into a shop, all that are in that street at the time gather up and wait at the door till you come out; and while you are getting into the carriage, and the coachman is shutting the door and mounting upon his box, they implore, and moan, and beg, and entreat you to give them a little money. They are so wretched, they say, they are dying of hunger.
A great many of these people are really poor, no doubt; but they have no right thus to force their poverty and their diseases upon the attention of the public, when other modes, and far better modes, are provided for their relief. A great many of them, however, are impostors. Indeed, one of the greatest objections to the system of allowing the poor to get their living by begging in the streets, is the direct tendency of it to encourage and train impostors. No one can possibly know from hearing the complaint of a poor person by the wayside, or from the appearance which he presents, either how much he needs help, or how much help he may have already received; and of course, by this mode of dispensing charity, the best possible facilities are afforded for every species of deceit and imposture.
Mrs. Gray understood all this, and she saw that if every body would firmly and perseveringly refuse to give money to applicants in the public streets, the system of making an ostentatious parade of misery, real and counterfeited, that now prevails in Naples, would soon come to an end. She accordingly never gave any thing, neither did Mr. George or Rollo. Indeed Rollo and Josie were seldom molested when they were walking by themselves, for the beggars—considering them as only two boys—did not expect to get any thing from them.
"The only beggar that I ever gave any thing to in Naples," said Rollo, "was a poor black dog. I gave him half of a fried cake that I bought at a stall. He swallowed it in an instant. I call him a beggar because he looked up into my face so piteously, though he did not ask for any thing. He did not speak a word."
"And what did he do after you gave him the cake?" asked Rosie.
"He looked up a moment to see if I was going to give him any more," said Rollo, "and then he walked away."