u, 'if you wait a bit for a day or two, or a
week, or maybe for a fortnight, I'll try what I can do to help you.'

"Picture to yourselves a fellow-creature in distress--suppose him
to have neither hat, shoe, nor stocking--[this was a touch of the
pathetic]--and altogether in a state of utter destitution! Can there be
a more melancholy picture than this? No, there can't. But 'tisn't
the tithe of it!--a barefaced robbery is the same tithe--think of him
without father, mother, or friend upon the earth--both dead, and ne'er
another to be had for love or money--maybe he has poor health--maybe
he's sick, an' in a sthrange country--[here Jemmy's mother and friends
sobbed aloud, and the contagion began to spread]--the priest, in fact,
knew where to touch--his face is pale--his eyes sunk with sickness and
sorrow in his head--his bones are cuttin' the skin--he knows not where
to turn himself--hunger and sickness are strivin' for him.--[Here the
grief became loud and general, and even the good-natured preacher's own
voice got somewhat unsteady.]--He's in a bad state entirely--miserable!
more miserable!! most miserable!!! [och, och, oh!] sick, sore, and
sorry!--he's to be pitied, felt for, and compassionated!--[a general
outcry!]--'tis a faver he has, or an ague, maybe, or a rheumatism, or an
embargo (* lumbago, we presume) on the limbs, or the king's evil, or
a consumption, or a decline, or God knows but it's the falling
sickness--[ooh, och, oh!--och, och, oh!] from the whole congregation,
whilst the simple old man's eyes were blinded with tears at the force of
the picture he drew.--[Ay, maybe it's the falling-sickness, and in that
case how on earth can he stand it.--He can't, he can't, wurra strew,
wurra strew!--och, och, oh!--ogh, ogh, ogh!]--The Lord in heaven look
down upon him--[amin, amin, this blessed an' holy Sunday that's in
it!--och, oh!]--pity him--[amin, amin!--och, och, an amin!]--with
miseracordial feeling and benediction! He hasn't a rap in his
company!--moneyless, friendless, houseless, an' homeless! Ay, my
friends, you all have homes--but he has none! Thrust back by every
hard-hearted spalpeen, and he, maybe, a better father's son than the
Turk that refuses him! Look at your own childre, my friends! Bring the
case home to yourselves! Suppose he was one of them--alone on the earth,
and none to pity him in his sorrows! Your own childre, I say, in a
strange land.--[Here the outcry became astounding; men, women, and
c