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 The Ethics of Solicitation

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How far a man should isolate himself and exclude all forms of solicitation and approach depends upon circumstances, and no general rule can be laid down. Goldsmith's picture in "The Deserted Village" where "the surly porter stands in guilty state to spurn imploring famine from the gate" is certainly not a pleas ing one, but there are times and places for everything; we do not eat our dinner in church, nor say our prayers on the Common, and we may affirm without much fear of contradiction that business hours, being those for which we are paid, and during which our time usually belongs to others, are not the proper times for solicitation, and that we may properly during those hours shut our selves up and rigidly exclude all solici tors. This has been generally recog nized, and in many business buildings solicitors are excluded by notices posted at the entrance, and it will become more and more necessary as time goes on. The following communication to the Boston Transcript a year or two ago, which may perhaps be properly quoted to preserve it from oblivion if for no other purpose, humorously but truly describes the feelings of many of our best citizens:—

and small—general and special—involving everything on earth from the destinies of races to the infinitesimally specialized de mands of fractional groups of individuals— from preaching the Gospel to the heathen to founding a rest-cure for the janitors of daynurseries for the babies of club-footed Chinese women. Of course, it is all admirable, and the jani tors and heathen, etc., appeal to our highest and tenderest emotions—but—is there no end to it? In old times "tithes" were a nominal limit— but nowadays if a man can keep one tithe of his own for himself he is lucky. Trying to fill the maw of Boston charities is like the bluejay's trying to fill the empty log cabin with acorns in Mark Twain's story. Of course we all strive not to "be weary with well-do ing," but when one has given away every red cent one can scrape together it is discour aging to find the flood of begging letters rising higher than ever. I am merely a representative case—a quiet, law-abiding citizen with a moderate fixed income, heavily depleted by taxation; but apparently the charitably disposed have vowed my extermination. I have wondered whether it would satisfy them if I should advertise in the Transcript that all my worldly goods would be at their disposal at a certain hour and day, and then should hang myself to the chandelier. But it would do no good. The first charitable person who got there would cut me down—not to save me, but to get the chandelier. MINUS ZERO.

"GOD HELP THE RICH! THE POOR CAN BEG."

It is perfectly true that applications to many people by letter and circular are becoming so numerous that it is impossible without a private secretary to even read them to find out whether an answer is necessary, much less to answer them.

To the Editor of the Transcript:— Can nothing be done—nothing—to dam the overwhelming deluge of begging letters and circulars by which the community is flooded? They come in every conceivable form—great