And such repentance would have been THE LEPER. N. P. WILLIS. "Room for the leper! Room!" And as he came Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood—all Day was breaking, When at the altar of the temple stood The holy priest of God. The incense lamp Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off His costly raiment for the leper's garb, And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip "Depart! depart, O child Of Israel, from the temple of thy God! For he has smote thee with his chastening rod, And to the desert wild, From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, That from thy plague his people may be free. Depart! and come not near The busy mart, the crowded city, more; Voices that call thee in the way; and fly Wet not thy burning lip In streams that to a human dwelling glide; The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, And pass not thou between The weary traveler and the cooling breeze; Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain; And now depart! and when Thy heart is heavy and thine eyes are dim, Selected thee to feel his chastening rod; And he went forth alone. Not one of all Breaking within him now, to come and speak It was noon, And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, Love and awe As if his heart was moved; and stooping down, He took a little water in his hand And laid it on his brow and said, "Be clean!" A DRUNKEN SOLILOQUY IN A COAL CELLAR. ALF. BURNETT. Let's see, where am I? This is coal I'm lying on. How'd I get here? Yes, I mind now; was coming up street; met a wheel-barrow wot was drunk, coming t'other way. That wheel-barrow fell over me, or I fell over the wheel-barrow, and one of us fell into the cellar, don't mind now which; guess it must have been me. I'm a nice young man; yes, Well, I can't help it; 'taint I am; tight, tore, drunk, shot! my fault. Wonder whose fault it is? Is it Jones' fault? No! Is it my wife's fault? Well, it ain't! Is it the wheelbarrow's fault? No-o-o! IT'S WHISKY'S FAULT! WHISKY! who's Whisky? Has he got a large family? Got many relations? All poor, I reckon. I won't own him any more; cut his acquaintance. I have had a notion of doing that for the last ten years; always hated to, though, for fear of hurting his feelin's. I'll do it now, for I believe liquor is injurin' me; it's spoilin' my temper. Sometimes I gets mad and abuses Bets and the brats. I used to call 'em Lizzie and the children; that's a good while ago, though. Then, when I cum home, she used to put her arms around my neck and kiss me, and call me "dear William !" When I cum home now she takes her pipe out of her mouth, puts the hair out of her eyes, and looks at me and says, "Bill, you drunken brute, shut the door after you! We're cold enough, havin' no fire, 'thout lettin' the snow blow in that way." Yes, she's Bets and I'm Bill now; I ain't a good bill neither; I'm counterfeit; won't pass-(a tavern without goin' in and getting a drink.) Don't know wot bank I'm on; last Sunday was on the river bank, at the Corn Exchange, drunk! I stay out pretty late-sometimes out all night, when Bets bars the door with a bed-post; fact is, I'm out pretty much all over-out of friends, out of pocket, out at elbows and knees, and out-rageously dirty. So Bets says, but she's no judge, for she's never clean herself. I wonder she don't wear good clothes! Maybe she ain't got any! Whose fault is that? "Taint mine! It may be whisky's. Sometimes I'm in; I'm in-toxicated now, and in somebody's coal cellar. I've got one good principle; I never runs in debt, 'cause nobody won't trust me. One of my coat-tails is gone; got tore off, I expect, when I fell down here. I'll have to get a new suit soon. A feller told me t'other day I'd make a good sign for a paper-mill. If he hadn't been so big I'd licked him. I've had this shirt on nine days. I'd take it off, but I'm afraid I'd tear it. Guess I tore the windowshutter on my pants t'other night, when I sot on the wax in Ben Sniff's shoe-shop. I'll have to get it mended up or I'll catch cold. I ain't very stout neither, though I'm full in the face; as the boys say, "I'm fat as a match and healthy as the small-pox." My hat is standin' guard for a windowpane that went out the other day at the invitation of a brick-bat. It's getting cold down here; wonder how I'll get out? I an't able to climb. If I had a drink, think I could do it. Let's see, I ain't got thrce cents; wish I was in a tavern, I could sponge it then. When anybody treats, and says, "Come, fellers!" I always thinks my name is fellers, and I've too good manners to refuse. I must leave this place, or I'll be arrested for burglary, and I ain't come to that yet! Anyhow, it was the wheel-barrow did the harm, not me! |