On reaching Saffron Hill, it
was in an Irish uproar: policemen, thieves, prostitutes, and Israelites
were brawling in a satanic mass of iniquity; blood and murder was the
order of the night. My child screamed, my wife clung to my arm; she
would not, she durst not, sleep in such a place. To be brief: we had to
wander in the streets till the morning; and I believe that night, aided
by a broken heart, was the forerunner of her death. It was the first
time I had been compelled to walk trembling for a night without shelter,
or to sit frozen on a threshold; and this, too, I owe to
procrastination.
"For a time we rented a miserable garret, without furniture or fixture,
at a shilling weekly, which was paid in advance. I had delayed making
application for employment till our last sixpence was spent. We had
passed a day without food; my child appeared dying; my wife said
nothing, but she gazed upon her dear boy, and shook her head with an
expression that wrung me to the soul. I rushed out almost in madness,
and, in a state of unconsciousness, hurried from shop to shop in
agitation and in misery. It was vain; appearances were against me. I was
broken down and dejected, and my state of mind and manner appeared a
compound of the maniac and the blackguard. At night I was compelled to
return to the suffering victims of my propensity, penniless and
unsuccessful.
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