Pity the unhappy, said a devout, venerable, hoary-headed man, meekly holding up a box, begirt with iron, in his withered hands ----I beg for the unfortunate--good my Lady, 'tis for a prison--for an hospital--'tis for an old man--a poor man undone by shipwreck, by suretyship, by fire ----I call God and all his angels to witness----'tis to clothe the naked----to feed the hungry----'tis to comfort the sick and the broken-hearted.

'Pity the unfortunate,' said a devout old man meekly holding up a box in his withered hands. ''tis for a prison - for an hospital - 'tis for an old man - a poor man undone by shipwreck, by fire - 'tis to feed the hungry - to comfort the sick.'
