that beggars are a formidable class in this country. They ramble
about, and infest every place, not entreating charity, but demanding
it. They often assemble at night in hordes, at the best country house
they can find, and taking up their abode in one of the out-buildings,
call for whatever they want, like travelers at an inn; and here they
claim the right of tarrying three days, if they like it. When a gang
of these sturdy fellows meets a traveler on the highway, he must offer
them money; and it sometimes happens that the amount of the offering
is not left to his own discretion. St. Anthony assails him on one
side, St. Francis on the other. Having satisfied their clamor in
behalf of these favorite saints, he is next attacked for the honor of
the Virgin; and thus they rob him, for the love of God."

"I wonder," Mrs. Shortridge said, "the nation tolerates such a
nuisance."

"There are laws for its abatement," answered L'Isle. "John III. and
Sebastian both warred against the beggars. A law of the sixteenth
century ordains that the lame should learn the trade of a tailor or
shoemaker, the maimed serve for subsistence any who will employ them,
and the blind, for food and raiment, give themselves to the labors of
the forge, by blowing the bellows. But we see how the law is enforced.
These men behind us are neither lame, halt, nor blind, but truly
represent the sturdy vagrants with whom Queen Bess's statute dealt so
roughly. With what result? It is but the ancestor of a long line of
laws which load our statute-books, and have built up our poor-law
system, merely substituting for one evil another which burdens the
country like an incubus, and, vulture-like, is eating out its
entrails."