"Why, perhaps, they prefer remaining where they are. To be sure, they ought not be allowed to do so. Still, however, they are of some use. Everything has its use, you know, Adeline." Sir William was connected with the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
"But what use are beggars of, Papa," demanded Adeline, "when they do not work?"
"Do you not recollect, dear," responded Sir William, "what Farmer Gibbs puts up in his corn-fields just after they have been sown?"
"Yes, Papa, he fixes one of those great birds, those rooks, to a stick, to frighten the other rooks away from coming and eating the wheat."
"Just so, my love. Well; many years ago, before you were born, a man who had been guilty of highway robbery or other very bad things, used to be dealt with much in the same way, that is, he was hung up on a tree in chains, after he was dead, for a warning to other thieves."
"Oh, Papa! how dreadful!"
"Yes, my love, it was very unpleasant; and, besides, as the man could no longer feel, it was no punishment to him; and so, you know, the example was in a great measure lost. When bad people see other bad people suffering for what they have done, that it is that terrifies them. Now when you see a beggar in the streets, all cold and naked and uncomfortable, what do you say?"
"I say, 'Poor man! how I wish I could relieve you.'"
"Well, dearest, it is always proper to be kind, and all that; but what you ought to say, too, is, 'How glad I am that I am so well off, and have a nice house and good clothes, and plenty to eat and drink; and how dreadful it must be to stand shivering in the snow without any shoes, selling Congreve matches! I will take care to keep all the money I get, and not to spend it like an extravagant little girl, for fear one of these days, I should come to be like that person.' Beggars, my sweet, are—shall you remember, do you think, what beggars are, if I tell you?"
"Yes, Papa."