“Well,” replied “his lordship,” “I have no hesitation to state, that if I were as deaf as he is, I wouldn't mind subscribing myself! He's as deaf as a post, or as a dumb adder; and can not hear the sounds of your Italian charmers, charm they never so loudly. I have no such good luck.”
Thinking, doubtless, that trying to secure “his lordship's” patronage under such circumstances, and with such opinions, involved the pursuit of musical subscriptions “under difficulties,” the importunate solicitor, with a succession of low bows, left the apartment; and as he left “the presence” he thought he heard a low, chuckling laugh, but it didn't affect his risibles!
What a life-like “picture in little” is this by Hood of the “torrent of rugged humanity” that set toward an English poor-house, at sound of The Work House Clock! Remark, too, reader, the beautiful sentiment with which the extract closes:
“There's a murmur in the air,
And noise in every street;
The murmur of many tongues,
The noise of many feet.
While round the work-house door
The laboring classes flock;