The man was a few paces before us.
“I sat opposite the entrance. In a few minutes an emaciated figure, cloathed meanly, but her dress clean, and adjusted in as neat a manner as possible, walked feebly along, until she reached the room-door; and then necessity compelled her to seek support from the posts. I could not behold the sight unmoved---”
We had now reached the beggar. We stopped. He held out his hat. I threw in something; my friend did the same. “May Heaven forever prosper your honours!” uttered the pauper. “Amen!” We both responded, and passed on.
“If I had her riches what a deal of good would I do with it! The poor should not depart empty from my door.”
“And perhaps,” said I, “if you had double the wealth she is possessed of, your disposition would be similar to hers.”
New-York, Sept. 1, 1796.
L. B.
CURIOUS ANECDOTE OF MR. HANDEL.
It was Mr. Handel’s usual custom, when engaged to dine out with any nobleman or gentleman, to take a little of something by way of refreshment, and to operate as a damper, that he might not display his vast powers as a gormandiser among people of puny appetites. For one of these previous dinners, or dampers, he ordered at the Crown and Anchor tavern a dozen large mackarel, a duck, and two roasted chickens. One of the waiters, judging from the quantity of victuals ordered, what number of people would probably be expected to dine, laid the cloth, and furnished the table with eight plates, &c. Mr. Handel arrived punctually at the hour he had named for the appearance of his repast, and was informed that none of the company were come, but himself; the landlord therefore humbly suggested to him that the dinner might be kept back, till some more of the company dropped in, “Company!” declaimed the dealer in harmony. “What company?---I expect no company! I ordered these few articles by way of relish for myself, and must beg to be excused from the intrusion of any company whatsoever!”