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A Letter of Compassionate Woe

Dear Concerned Citizens,

I am writing to express my concern at the plight of the waifs and strays of New Babbage. Just today, whilst walking along Canal Street, I was appalled to see two poor wretches without leather upon their feet or a cloak upon their backs, rummaging around in the gutter for something to eat.

Surely in this modern era, if we can manage flying machines in the skies and speeding trams upon the streets, we must be capable of offering some form of assistance and well-being to those poor mites that are less fortunate than ourselves. Our beloved authorities can afford to illuminate our streets with that modern work of the Devil, known as town gas, whilst deprived and wretched gangs of young souls wander our streets aimlessly, praying that the good Lord may send them mercy in the form of a stale loaf or the remnants of a smouldering brazier.

Surely there must be some charitable organization or rich benefactor that is able to support an orphanage for the town, that could take these poor mites off the streets and provide a warm bowl of gruel to nourish their impoverished forms.

It grieves my soul to see such young improvised minors wandering our beloved town and I only pray that some aid may result.

Yours sincerely,

A Troubled Friend.

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7 Comments

  1. Garnet Psaltery Garnet Psaltery April 3, 2015

    Your compassion is admirable.  I know that I, amongst many in the city, had winter shelters for the urchins.  Whether an orphanage would remain standing is a question best set against the history of buildings raised for the benefit of urchins, such as schools.

  2. Nyanka Jinx Nyanka Jinx April 3, 2015

    As busy as I get with my work, I do try to help the less fortunate.  I’m planning on holding a free medical clinic for the needy as soon as my schedule allows, which hopefully should be fairly soon. In the meantime, might I suggest building a fire-resistant orphanage or homeless shelter?

    – Dr. H. Jekyll

    • Tepic Harlequin Tepic Harlequin April 3, 2015

      There is no such thing as a fire-resistant orphanage…..

  3. violet Solano violet Solano April 4, 2015

    the answer is simple enough, give them work!

    im sure the textile mills could use piecers and scavengers to glean wool from under the looms.

    and let us not forget that this is a sea port, 

    there are many jobs to be had for children aboard ships,

    such as cabin boys,

    or stewards, and maids on liners,

    and navel vessels always need powder monkeys,

    furthermore as more and more country workers come to the city for factory work it leaves shortages on the farms ,

    send them to work there ,where they may get good steady employment,

    and keep them out of the eye of those, to who they may be troublesome, or an embarrassment , to there disapproving view

    • Jimmy Branagh Jimmy Branagh April 7, 2015

      Both Krackenwell’s and Popplefot’s offer employment oppor … oppor … jobs ta the impecunious an’ starvin’ urchins ifn they wanna show up fer work faw a pittance of pay.  Popplefot’s even ‘as an evenin’ meal faw those ‘oo work th’ whole day.

      Don’t be tryin’ ta Shanghai no urchins faw shipwork aw farmin’ aw nuffin’ loike thet though.  Ifn ya reach ta grab ’em yer liable ta pull back a stump.

      Just sayin’.

       

  4. River Falcon River Falcon April 7, 2015

    I must confess that the overwhelming response to my passionate plea has reaffirmed my belief in the compassionate nature of my fellow Babbage residents. I feel so reassured that the milk of human kindness is so evident here, overflowing by a drop here and a drop there. (Maybe that second drop was a bit excessive – but the metaphor still stands!)

    I shall no longer lay awake at night worrying about the poor wretched souls shivering around the smoldering remnants of a dead matchstick, finding nourishment from chewing stray horsehairs from the gutter. It is most reassuring to know that these neglected mites might refuge in the satisfaction of extracting strands of trapped cottons from between the flying cogs and gears of exposed machinery or find consolation in stacking a multitude of tins of boot polish at the local sweat factory.

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